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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prodigal Father, by J. Storer Clouston
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Prodigal Father
+
+Author: J. Storer Clouston
+
+Release Date: June 25, 2008 [EBook #25899]
+Last updated: March 2, 2009
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRODIGAL FATHER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  The
+  Prodigal Father
+
+  BY
+
+  J. STORER CLOUSTON
+
+  AUTHOR "THE LUNATIC AT LARGE,"
+  "A COUNTY FAMILY," ETC.
+
+  New York
+  The Century Co.
+  1909
+
+
+
+
+  Copyright, 1909, by
+  J. STORER CLOUSTON
+
+  _Published, September, 1909_
+
+  J. F. TAPLEY CO.
+  NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+     WITH GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENT TO AN UNKNOWN CORRESPONDENT WHO ONCE
+     MADE A CERTAIN SUGGESTION. IF HE READS THIS STORY HE PERHAPS WILL
+     REMEMBER
+
+                                   J. S. C.
+
+
+
+
+THE PRODIGAL FATHER
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTORY
+
+
+In one of the cable tramway cars which, at a reverential pace,
+perambulate the city of Edinburgh, two citizens conversed. The winds
+without blew gustily and filled the air with sounds like a stream in
+flood, the traffic clattered noisily over the causeway, the car itself
+thrummed and rattled; but the voices of the two were hushed. Said the
+one--
+
+"It's the most extraordinary thing ever I heard of."
+
+"It's all that," said the other; "in fact, it's pairfectly
+incomprehensible."
+
+"Mr. Walkingshaw of all people!"
+
+"Of Walkingshaw and Gilliflower--that's the thing that fair takes my
+breath away!" added the other; as though the firm was an even surer
+guarantee of respectability than the honored name of the senior partner.
+
+They shook their heads ominously. It was clear this was no ordinary
+portent they were discussing.
+
+"Do you think has he taken to--?"
+
+The first citizen finished his question by a crooking of his upturned
+little finger, one of those many delicate symbols by which the north
+Briton indicates a failing not uncommon in his climate.
+
+"It's a curious thing," replied his friend, "that I haven't heard that
+given as an explanation. Of course he's not a teetotaler--"
+
+"Oh, none ever insinuated that," put in the other, with the air of one
+who desired to do justice even to the most erring.
+
+"On the other hand, he's ay had the name of being one of the most
+respectable men in the town, just an example, they've always told me."
+
+"I knew him fine myself, in a business way, and that's just the
+expression I'd have used--an Example."
+
+"Respected by all."
+
+"An elder, and what not."
+
+"A fine business, he has."
+
+"His daughter married a Ramornie of Pettigrew."
+
+They shook their heads again, if possible more gravely than before.
+
+"He must be going off his head."
+
+"He must be gone, I'd say."
+
+"Yon speech he made was an outrage to common sense and decency!"
+
+"And about his son's marriage!"
+
+"That's Andrew Walkingshaw--his partner?"
+
+"Aye."
+
+"Oh, you've heard the story, then? I wonder is it true?"
+
+"I had it on the best authority."
+
+They pursed their lips solemnly.
+
+"The man's mad!"
+
+"But think of letting him loose to make a public exhibition of himself!
+It's an awfu' end to a respected career--in fact, it's positively
+discouraging."
+
+"You're right: you're right. If as respectable a liver as him ends that
+way--well, well!"
+
+In this strain and with such comments (exceedingly natural under the
+circumstances) did his fellow-citizens discuss the remarkable thing that
+befell Mr. Walkingshaw. And yet they could see only the outward symptoms
+or manifestations of this thing. Now that the full circumstances are
+made public, it will be generally conceded that few well-authenticated
+occurrences have ever at first sight seemed less probable. This has
+actually been advanced as an argument for their suppression; but since
+enough has already leaked out to whet the public curiosity, and indeed
+to lead to damaging misconceptions in a city so unused to phenomena
+other than meteorological, it is considered wisest that the unvarnished
+facts should be placed in the hands of a scrupulous editor and allowed
+to speak for themselves.
+
+
+
+
+PART I
+
+
+
+
+THE PRODIGAL FATHER
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+At a certain windy corner in the famous city of Edinburgh, a number of
+brass plates were affixed to the framework of a door. On the largest and
+brightest of them appeared the legend "Walkingshaw & Gilliflower, W.S.";
+and on no other sheet of brass in Scotland were more respectable names
+inscribed. For the benefit of the Sassenach and other foreigners, it may
+be explained that "W.S." is a condensation of "Writers to the Signet"--a
+species of beatified solicitor holding a position so esteemed, so
+enviable, and so intensely reputable that the only scandal previously
+whispered in connection with a member of this class proved innocently
+explicable upon the discovery that he was affianced to the lady's aunt.
+The building in which the firm had their office formed one end of an
+austere range of dark stone houses overlooking a street paved with cubes
+of granite and confronted by a precisely similar line of houses on the
+farther side. The whole sloped somewhat steeply down a hill, up which
+and down which a stimulating breeze careered and eddied during three
+hundred days of the year. Had you thrust your head out of the office
+windows and looked down the street, you could have seen, generally
+beneath a gray sky and through a haze of smoke, an inspiring glimpse of
+distant sea with yet more distant hills beyond. But Mr. Walkingshaw had
+no time for looking gratis out of his window to see unprofitable views.
+The gray street had been the background to nearly fifty years of
+dignified labor on behalf of the most respectable clients.
+
+His full name was James Heriot Walkingshaw, but it had been early
+recognized that "James" was too brief a designation and "Jimmie" too
+trivial for one of his parts and presence, and so he was universally
+known as Heriot Walkingshaw. His antecedents were as respectable as his
+clients. One of his eight great-great-grandfathers owned a landed estate
+in the county of Peebles, one of his maternal uncles was a theological
+professor in the University of Aberdeen, and his father before him had
+been a W.S. Young Heriot himself was brought up on porridge, the tawse,
+the Shorter Catechism, and an allowance of five shillings a week. His
+parents were both prudent and pious. Throughout such portions of the
+Sabbath as they did not spend with their offspring in their pew, they
+kept them indoors behind drawn blinds. His mother kissed young Heriot
+seldom and severely (with a cold smack like a hailstone), and never
+permitted him to remain ten minutes in the same room with a housemaid
+unchaperoned. His father never allowed him to sleep under more than two
+blankets, and locked the front door at nine o'clock in summer and six in
+winter.
+
+The supreme merit of this system in insuring the survival of the fittest
+was seen in its results. Heriot's elder brother passed away at the age
+of two in the course of a severe winter. Clearly he would never have
+been a credit to oatmeal. His younger brother broke loose at nineteen,
+pained his relatives exceedingly, and retired to a distant colony where
+the standard was lower. His name was never mentioned till at his decease
+it was found that he had left £30,000 to be divided among the survivors
+of the ordeal. And finally, here was Heriot, a credit to his parents,
+his porridge, and his Catechism--in a word, an Example.
+
+One damp February morning, Mr. Walkingshaw, accompanied as usual by his
+eldest son, set forth from his decorous residence. It was one of a
+circle of stately houses, broken in two or three places to permit the
+sedatest kind of street to enter. The grave dignity of these mansions
+was accentuated by the straight, deep-hewn furrows at the junctions of
+the vast rectangular stones, and by the pediment and fluted pillars
+which every here and there gave one of them the appearance of a Greek
+temple dedicated to some chaste goddess. In the midst, a round,
+railed-in garden was full of lofty trees, very upright and dark, like
+monuments to the distinguished inhabitants.
+
+Just as Mr. Walkingshaw and his son had got down the steps and reached
+the pavement, the door opened again behind them and a figure appeared
+which seemed to light the dull February morning with a ray of something
+like sunshine. Her dress was a warm golden brown; her face clear-skinned
+and fresh-colored, with bright eyes, a straight little nose, and, at
+that moment, eager, parted lips; her hair a coil of curling gold; her
+age nineteen.
+
+"Father!" she cried, "you've forgotten your muffler!"
+
+"Tut, tuts," muttered Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+He stopped and let her wind the muffler round his neck, while his son
+regarded the performance with a curiously captious eye.
+
+"Thanks, Jean," said Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+He threw the girl a brief nod, and the two resumed their walk. Jean
+stood for a minute on the steps with a smile half formed upon her lips,
+as though she were prepared to wave them a farewell; but neither man
+looked back, and the smile died away, the door closed behind her, and
+the morning became as raw as ever.
+
+For a few minutes father and son walked together in silence. In Andrew's
+eye lurked the same suggestion of criticism, and in his parent's some
+consciousness of this and not a little consequent irritation. They were
+the same height--just under six feet--and there was a decided
+resemblance between Mr. Walkingshaw's portly gait and Andrew's dignified
+carriage, but otherwise they were not much alike. The father had a large
+and open countenance, very ruddy and fringed with the most respectable
+white whiskers; and something ample in his voice and eye and manner
+accorded with it admirably. Andrew's face also was full, but rather in
+places than comprehensively. The chief places were his cheeks and upper
+lip. This lip was perhaps his most striking characteristic. It was both
+full and long, meeting his cheeks at either end in a little dimple, and
+protruding above the lower lip. Beneath it his chin sloped sharply back
+and then abruptly shot forward again in the shape of a round aggressive
+little ball. His eye was cold and gray, his hair dark, his age
+six-and-thirty, and for the last few years he had been his father's
+partner. He was the first to break the silence.
+
+"Why you don't see a respectable doctor, I can't imagine," said he.
+
+"I went to Mackenzie. I went to Grant," replied Mr. Walkingshaw shortly.
+"A lot of good either of them did my gout!"
+
+"Gout!" said Andrew. "And have you exchanged that for anything better?
+You ought to have stayed in bed to-day. I wonder you ventured out in the
+state that man's got you into."
+
+The words might conceivably be taken to represent a very natural filial
+anxiety, but the voice was reminiscent of the consolation of Job. Mr.
+Walkingshaw had always been able to inspire his children with a respect
+so profound that it was a little difficult at times to distinguish it
+from awe. Even Andrew when he became his partner had not lost the
+attitude. But to-day his father accepted the rebuke without a murmur. In
+a moment the hard Scotch voice smote again--
+
+"The idea of a man in your position going to an infernal quack like
+Professor Cyrus! Professor? Humph! The man's killing you."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw's ruddy face grew redder. The standard of common sense
+is high in Scotland; the humiliation in being taken in profound; the
+respect for the professional orthodoxies intense. And he had been the
+protagonist of everything sensible, orthodox, and prudent! He felt like
+a constable caught in the pantry.
+
+"Cyrus is a man of remarkable--ah--ideas. He assures me I shall see the
+beneficial effects soon. Patience--patience; that is what he says.
+I--ah--have probably only caught a little chill. I believe in Cyrus,
+Andrew, I believe in him."
+
+Andrew received the explanation with outward respect. His father's eye
+had become formidable; but in silence his own expressed his opinion of
+this paltry defense. Presently he inquired--
+
+"Would you like people to know who you're going to?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw started.
+
+"I'll trouble other folks to mind their own business," he said sharply;
+yet he cast an uncomfortable glance at his son.
+
+"Oh, I'm not anxious they should know my family's escapades," said
+Andrew reassuringly.
+
+But his gray eye had now a triumphant gleam, and his father realized he
+had no case left to go before the court. If people were to know--well,
+he would certainly be a less shining example. Mr. Walkingshaw of
+Walkingshaw and Gilliflower in the hands of a quack doctor! It would
+sound awful bad--awful bad. Little did he dream what people would be
+saying of that reputable Writer to the Signet three months later.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Business happened to be slack that afternoon, and at the early hour of
+four o'clock Mr. Walkingshaw resumed his overcoat and muffler. As Mr.
+Thomieson, his confidential clerk, decorously tucked the scarf beneath
+the velvet collar, he offered a word or two of respectful sympathy.
+
+"Far the wisest thing to go home, sir. But will you not take a cab? It's
+an awful like day to be out with a chill on ye."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw perceived his junior partner gazing on him in severe
+silence, and defiantly decided to walk. Yet as he paced homewards he
+could not but admit, in the unquiet recesses of his own mind, that it
+certainly was an odd sort of chill. He felt--well, he found it hard to
+tell exactly how he felt--rather as though he had swallowed some ounces
+of quicksilver which kept flashing and running about inside him with
+every step he took. Suppose Cyrus's wonderful new system were actually
+to prove dangerous to the constitution, possibly even to the life, of
+his august, confiding patron? You could not always know your luck,
+however deserving you might be. The tower of Siloam fell both upon the
+righteous and the unrighteous. What would people say if Professor Cyrus
+metaphorically fell on him? Heriot Walkingshaw had more at stake than
+mere existence. He had a character to lose.
+
+The sight of his house, so dignified and so permanent, soothed him a
+little. As he hung his coat upon the substantial rack in the dark and
+spacious hall, he was soothed still further. Ascending to his
+drawing-room, the thick carpet underfoot completed his tranquillity.
+Surely nothing disconcerting could happen to a man who owned such a
+house as this. But alas! regrettable episodes have a habit, like migrant
+birds, of arriving in companies.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+Mrs. Walkingshaw had been dead for many years, and in her stead Heriot's
+maiden sister, a thin, elderly lady of exemplary views and conduct,
+ruled her household. As her brother ruled her, he found the arrangement
+worked admirably.
+
+"Are you not coming out with me in the carriage?" said she to her niece
+that afternoon.
+
+Jean excused herself. She had letters she positively must write; and so
+the two tall horses pranced off, bearing in the very large and very
+shiny carriage only the exemplary lady. As she heard them clatter off
+over the resounding granite, Jean gave a little skip. Her eyes danced
+too and her lips smiled mysteriously. She ran upstairs like a whirlwind
+and had the drawing-room door shut behind her before she paused. Only
+then did she seem to feel safely alone and not in the carriage shopping.
+The room was very long, and very wide, and immensely high, with three
+tall windows down one side and substantial furniture purchased in the
+heyday of the Victorian epoch. The slim, fair-haired figure was quite
+lost in the space considered suitable by an early nineteenth-century
+architect for the accommodation of a Scottish lady; and the fire made
+much more of a display, glowing in the gloom of that raw February
+afternoon.
+
+Jean sat by a little writing-table and took up a pen. Then she waited,
+evidently for ideas to come. Ten minutes later they arrived. The door
+was softly opened, a voice respectably subdued announced the name of
+"Mr. Vernon," and the duties of the pen were over.
+
+The gentleman who entered made a remarkable contrast to the sedate
+upholstery. He had a mop of brown hair upon a large and well-shaped
+head, a broad face with rugged, striking features, very bright blue
+eyes, a dashing cavalier mustache, and a most engaging smile. His
+clothes were light of hue and very loose, his figure was of medium
+height and strongly built, his collar wide open at the neck, and his tie
+a large silk butterfly of an artistic shade of brown. Altogether he was
+a most improbable person to find calling upon a daughter of Mr. Heriot
+Walkingshaw.
+
+He gave Jean's hand the grasp of a friend, but his eyes looked on her
+with a more than friendly light in them. When he spoke, his voice was
+as pleasant as his smile, and his accents were those of that portion of
+Britain not yet entirely occupied by the victors of Bannockburn.
+
+"It's very good of you to stay in," he said.
+
+"Oh, I wasn't going out in any case," said Jean demurely.
+
+She seated herself in one corner of the sofa, and the young man, after
+hesitating for an instant between a seat by her side and a chair close
+by, and failing to catch her eye to guide him, chose the chair, and for
+the moment looked unhappy.
+
+"I've come to say good-by," he began.
+
+She looked up quickly.
+
+"Are you going away?"
+
+He nodded his brown mop.
+
+"Yes, I'm off to London again."
+
+"For good?"
+
+"I hope so; anyhow, it can't be for much worse than I've done here."
+
+"Haven't your pictures been--been appreciated here?" she asked.
+
+"They haven't been sold," he said, with a short laugh.
+
+"What a shame! Oh, Mr. Vernon, I do think people might have had better
+taste."
+
+"So do I," he smiled, "but they haven't had. I've made nothing here but
+friends."
+
+He had a musical voice, rather deep, and very readily expressive of what
+he strongly felt. His last sentence rang in Jean's ears like a
+declaration of love. Her eyes fell and her color rose.
+
+"We have all been very glad to see you."
+
+He shook his head; his eyes fastened on her all the time.
+
+"No, you haven't."
+
+She looked up, but meeting that devouring gaze, looked down again.
+
+"Not all of you," he added. "Your father disapproves of me, your eldest
+brother detests me, and your aunt distrusts me. It's only you and Frank
+who have been my friends."
+
+Frank was her soldier brother, and Jean adored him. She thought she
+could never care for any one but a soldier, till she encountered art and
+Lucas Vernon.
+
+"Yes, Frank certainly does like you very much indeed," she said warmly.
+
+"Don't you?"
+
+"Yes," she answered firmly.
+
+He smiled and bent towards her.
+
+"Your hand on it!"
+
+She held out her hand, and he took it and kept it.
+
+(At that moment Mr. Walkingshaw was opening his front door.)
+
+For a minute they sat in silence, and then she tried gently to draw the
+hand away.
+
+"Let me keep it for a little!" he pleaded. "I'm going away. I shan't
+hold it again for Heaven knows how long."
+
+His voice was so caressing that she ceased to grudge him five small
+fingers.
+
+(Mr. Walkingshaw had removed his muffler and was hanging up his coat.)
+
+"Are you at all sorry I'm going?"
+
+"Yes," murmured Jean, "Frank and I--we'll both miss you."
+
+The artist murmured too, but very indistinctly. The idea he expressed
+thus inadequately was, "Hang Frank!" But she heard the next word too
+plainly for her self-possession.
+
+"Jean!"
+
+(Mr. Walkingshaw was now ascending his well-carpeted staircase.)
+
+She gave him one glance which she meant for reproof; but when he saw her
+eyes, so loving and a little moist, he covered the short space between
+them with one movement, and was on his knees before her.
+
+"Do you love me?" he whispered.
+
+Her head bent over his, and she answered very faintly something like
+"Yes."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw entered his drawing-room.
+
+For a moment there was a painful pause. Jean's face had turned a
+becoming shade of crimson, and the artist was on his feet. Naturally the
+woman spoke first.
+
+"I--I didn't expect you back so soon, father."
+
+"So I perceive," said Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+The young man turned to him with creditable composure.
+
+"One can hardly judge of the effect in this light," said he.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw had heard of people becoming insane under the stress of
+a sudden shock, and he wondered uneasily whether this misfortune had
+befallen Lucas Vernon or himself. The artist perceived his success, and
+hope began to rise afresh. He cocked his head professionally on one side
+and examined the confounded girl.
+
+"We must try the pose in my studio."
+
+Jean also saw the dawn of hope.
+
+"May I inquire what you are talking about?" demanded her father.
+
+"Miss Walkingshaw has promised to sit to me for her portrait,"
+explained the artist. "We were trying one or two positions."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw breathed somewhat heavily, but said nothing. Jean's
+color began to subside.
+
+"Mr. Vernon was arranging my hands," she contributed towards his
+enlightenment.
+
+Mr. Vernon was now gazing on her in the attitude which he had learnt
+from plays and poems conveyed to the laity the best conception of
+artistic fervor.
+
+"The head a little more to the right!" he exclaimed. "The hands crossed!
+A smile, please! Now, sir, how do you like that?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw ignored the question altogether and addressed his
+daughter.
+
+"If Mr. Vernon can give any reasons why he should paint your portrait, I
+think he had better give them to me before the matter goes further."
+
+His formidable eye supplied the addendum, "And you leave the room!"
+
+She obeyed, and the painter was left with this singularly favorable
+opportunity of obtaining a commission at last.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+"Well, sir?" said Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+Lucas was unused to the subtleties of diplomacy, but it seemed to him an
+evident case for tact.
+
+"What do you think about it yourself?" he began cautiously.
+
+"I think," replied the W.S., "that you'd be better back in England."
+
+His eye again spoke for him, and this time it said, "There is no further
+use in attempting to deceive me."
+
+The artist took the hint. His strong, pleasant face became a mirror
+reflecting the very truth; his blue eyes were filled with a light
+brighter even than the inspiration of art; his mellow voice burst out
+abruptly--
+
+"I love Jean!"
+
+The effect was rather like discharging a cannon and bringing down a
+scrap of plaster.
+
+"Oh, indeed," said Mr. Walkingshaw. "You mean my daughter?"
+
+"I should think I do!"
+
+"I merely asked for information, Mr. Vernon."
+
+"Then I can guarantee your information!" Lucas smiled frankly, but he
+might as well have smiled at the hat-rack in the hall. "I'm quite aware
+you don't think me good enough for her--and I agree with you. But if it
+comes to that, who is? You may say my name's neither Turner nor Rubens;
+you may think it's like my dashed impudence asking you to let me make a
+short cut to heaven across your hearth--"
+
+It was at this point that Mr. Walkingshaw discharged his ordnance.
+
+"What is your income?" he inquired coldly.
+
+His aim was more accurate. The artist descended to earth with a thud.
+
+"My _income_?" he gasped.
+
+"Your income," repeated the bombardier.
+
+The artist ran his fingers convulsively through his hair.
+
+"Now, what the deuce should I put it at?"
+
+"An approximately correct figure," suggested Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+"To tell you the truth, I haven't the least idea."
+
+"A thousand?"
+
+"Oh, good God, no!"
+
+"A hundred?"
+
+"Oh, more than that."
+
+"Can't you suggest a figure yourself?"
+
+"Well, let's say that in a good year I make anything up to three or four
+hundred pounds, and in a bad year anything down to fifty or sixty."
+
+"We'll say that if you like. Do you expect any legacies to fall in to
+you--anything of that kind?"
+
+"Unfortunately I don't."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw regarded him with contemptuous severity.
+
+"Then you propose to marry my daughter on maybe fifty or sixty pounds a
+year?"
+
+"I told you that was in a bad year," protested the artist.
+
+"Thank you, but I don't want any of your fluctuating incomes for my
+girl. I don't care if you earned ten thousand pounds this year. So
+long as you can't guarantee that to last, you're no better than a
+speculator--a hand-to-mouth, don't-know-where-you-are-to-morrow sort of
+person. Now, that sort of thing _won't do_, Mr. Vernon. Before you next
+think of marrying a girl in my daughter's position, let me give you this
+bit of advice: learn to paint your pictures on some kind of proper
+business principles. If you do them, say, once a month and sell them at
+a standard price--just as other folks have to manufacture and sell their
+goods--you'll not find yourself in the same ridiculous position you're
+in at this moment."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw rose to indicate that the interview was at an end; but
+the artist's endurance ended first.
+
+"Mr. Walkingshaw! Did you ever _make_ anything in your life?"
+
+The W.S. stared at him.
+
+"I have made most of what I possess, sir."
+
+"Pooh! You're talking of money. Does your mind never run on anything
+but money? I mean, have you ever made a hat or a shoe, or a book or a
+picture, or even a cheese? Have you ever actually turned out anything
+that was the least use or pleasure to anybody?"
+
+Vernon's blue eyes were bent upon him in such an extraordinarily intense
+and flashing manner that Mr. Walkingshaw found himself compelled to
+answer.
+
+"That kind of thing is--ah--not in my line."
+
+"Then," burst forth the artist, "you can no more judge of my work than
+a toasting-fork can judge of a steam engine. The woman who cooks your
+dinner understands more than you do. She knows better than to think it
+costs no more time and trouble to cook an omelette than boil an egg.
+A picture a month, and the same price for each! Confound it, Mr.
+Walkingshaw, you make me ashamed of you!"
+
+"Do you imagine, sir, that that affects me?"
+
+"If I were you, I'd prefer my son-in-law to respect me."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw positively jumped.
+
+"You mean to--er--"
+
+"Marry her, whether you like it or not! I'm in love--and she loves me!
+There's not the least use trying to explain to you what love means. It
+would be like trying to explain a cigar to a chicken. You're too
+respectable. You can't understand."
+
+The tirade ceased abruptly, and the young man smiled again upon the
+petrified Writer to the Signet.
+
+"I am going back to London to-night. Just give me a year or two, Mr.
+Walkingshaw. I'll make an income for her."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw regained his senses.
+
+"You will never be admitted inside this house in your life again, sir.
+You will never marry _my_ daughter; and mind you, you needn't flatter
+yourself she will correspond with you or anything of that kind. My
+children have been decently brought up. What I say is done; and what I
+say shan't be done, is not done!"
+
+He had recovered his formidableness now, and the artist's face fell. For
+a moment he looked gloomily at his father-in-law elect, and then he
+turned for the door.
+
+"We shall see," he said.
+
+"You shall not see _her_ again," retorted Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+The door slammed behind art and love and impracticability, and he stood
+in his vast drawing-room alone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+It is a pleasant and an edifying thing to contrast the difference
+between the fates of the reputable and the Bohemian even in the lists of
+love. Clearly these matters are managed by some scrupulously equitable
+power. One hesitates to dub it Providence for fear of seeming
+sentimental, but one may safely describe it as something almost as wise
+and decidedly more respectable. Here was Lucas Vernon, without a settled
+income or any very coherent notion of how to make one, dismissed the
+house of the girl he was foolish enough to love. There, on the other
+hand, was Andrew Walkingshaw, who had first devoted himself to amassing
+and investing a handsome competence, and then, without any further
+difficulty to speak of, had selected and secured one of the most
+charming girls imaginable. In every respect but one he had chosen
+obviously well. She was fair to see, and hence very gratifying to be
+seen with; she was quite young, and therefore amenable and not too
+sophisticated; and she came of so excellent and ancient a family that
+it was a pleasure merely to mention the name of his prospective
+father-in-law to his envious acquaintances. Archibald Berstoun, Esq., of
+that ilk, was the style in which that gentleman preferred to have
+correspondence addressed to him, accepting Berstoun of Berstoun as a
+less satisfactory alternative, and answering very briefly letters to
+plain Archibald Berstoun, Esq.
+
+The only drawback to Ellen Berstoun was her father's unfortunate
+financial position. Andrew had to take her without a penny; but then, on
+the other hand, he might not have got her at all had her parents the
+wherewithal to display her charms in London ballrooms. Also, Archibald
+of that ilk might have looked for a showier mate for her under more
+prosperous circumstances. As it was, her parents spent a strenuous
+fortnight in persuading her to accept so excellent an opportunity of
+reducing their supply of marriageable daughters to the more reasonable
+number of five, and the approval of their creditors was practically
+unanimous.
+
+They had been engaged for a month, when, upon that same afternoon, she
+arrived on a short visit to the Walkingshaw's house. Andrew would have
+met her at the station had her train arrived only twenty minutes later,
+but it was one of the most admirable features in his character that he
+made a point of never on any pretext leaving the office before the hour
+had struck. Frank, however, showed remarkable alacrity in offering
+himself as substitute. So zealous and obliging a brother was he that he
+started for the station with half an hour to spare, and whiled away a
+portion of that time in purchasing a bouquet of flowers and a very
+ornamental box of chocolates.
+
+Holding the chocolate-box and his umbrella under one arm and the bouquet
+in his other hand, this best of brothers paced that eligible promenade,
+the platform of the Haymarket station. People, especially women, glanced
+at him with approval as the erect, military young figure passed and
+repassed on his vigil, marching as though on parade. He was twenty-five,
+bronzed of skin, well-featured, trimly mustached, modest and yet gallant
+of mien, attired in an overcoat drawn in at the waist and a hat
+becomingly cocked a little towards his left ear--in a word, a credit to
+that distinguished corps, the Cromarty Highlanders. At present they were
+in India, and he was home on furlough.
+
+Sometimes his clear young eyes looked disconsolately into space,
+as though the saddest thoughts afflicted him; and then they would
+brighten with a sudden excitement. As these brightenings almost
+invariably coincided with the first rumbling of a train far down the
+line that glimmered beneath red lamps and green, leading from the north
+out of the gathered dusk, it seemed as though the cheering prospect came
+from thence. This probability would appear to be increased by the
+disappearance of the excitement when the train proved to come from
+some locality of no interest whatsoever. An observant female in glasses
+and a golf cape, who entertained herself by furtively studying this
+agreeable-looking stranger, smiled knowingly at each of these
+manifestations: _she_ knew whom he was waiting for, even without the
+palpable evidence of the bouquet and chocolate-box, and the only thing
+that puzzled her was why he should have these very mournful lapses. A
+secret grief seemed inappropriate both to the gentleman and the obvious
+situation. But how could she guess that she was merely witnessing an
+accentuated variety of the pleasure with which any good brother looks
+forward to meeting his future sister-in-law at the end of a cold
+journey?
+
+"Yon's her noo," said a porter to whom the young officer addressed a
+question for the fourteenth time.
+
+The north line runs for a long way very straight just there, and Frank
+could see the two round glows far off in the darkness grow larger and
+larger, brighter and brighter, with the furnace-lit smoke streaming ever
+more brilliantly above, till the shape of a great engine started out,
+thundering close upon him. And then the observant female was gratified
+by a glimpse of a slender girl, rather tall, smiling very kindly as the
+interesting unknown handed her down from her carriage and placed the
+flowers in her small gray glove. Her hair was dark; she wore handsome
+furs; she left the entire charge of her luggage to her escort, like a
+lady accustomed to be waited on; she moved down the platform with a
+graceful air of distinction, and as she passed close by, the observant
+female's heart was won by the sweet and innocent expression on her face.
+She thought them one of the nicest-looking couples she had ever seen.
+
+Meanwhile, the man whose virtues had earned this charming girl, and
+whose high position could command the services of a Highland subaltern
+to do his station work for him, was dictating a letter to his
+typewriter.
+
+But when Andrew sat down to dinner beside the lady of his choice, and
+felt that at last he could conscientiously lay aside the serious
+business of life for a little dalliance with the fruits of his industry,
+it was pleasant to see with what happy mingling of pride and calm he
+accepted his good fortune. He conveyed that suggestion of having put the
+lady in his pocket from the moment she whispered "Yes," and kept her
+there among his keys as a valued, yet not foolishly over-valued,
+possession, which is so virile a characteristic of the thoroughly
+successful man. Now he was taking her out to have a look at her, and
+incidentally--as it were, unconsciously--exhibit his trophy to the
+company. As for Ellen Berstoun, she looked so kind, so delicately
+radiant, so gently bred, and so anxious to give pleasure, that she made
+just the contrast to her dominating betrothed that sensible people
+believe in. Here, they would tell you, was a match made in a more
+practicable place than heaven.
+
+The rest of the company at dinner consisted of Mr. Walkingshaw,
+evidently proud of his future daughter-in-law, yet singularly silent and
+abstracted; Miss Walkingshaw, very erect at the end of the table; Jean,
+very downcast, poor girl (yet did she not deserve to be?); Frank,
+looking for some reason considerably less happy than when he handed
+Miss Berstoun out of her carriage; and Mrs. Dunbar. Madge Dunbar was a
+second cousin, and the widow of Captain Dunbar of Hammersmith's Horse,
+who was killed at Paardeberg. She was left with no children, a very
+small income, and a number of relatives occupying excellent stations in
+life. With one or other of these she generally stayed, but latterly had
+shown a decided preference for the hospitality of Mr. Walkingshaw. In
+fact, she had already been with them for three months, and as Mr.
+Walkingshaw was always very emphatic in his refusals to let her think of
+leaving, and remarkably gracious on every occasion on which they were
+seen in company, while his sister declared her to be one of the best
+women she knew, acquaintances had begun to exchange whispers. She was
+forty-five, full-figured, though not yet precisely stout, dark-eyed, and
+irreproachably dressed. She was also irreproachably diplomatic.
+
+Champagne was drunk in honor of Miss Berstoun, and as being the beverage
+most suitable to her pedigree (though, as a matter of fact, she had only
+tasted it twice before, since Archibald of that ilk confined himself to
+whisky, and his wife to dandelion porter). As the butler passed behind
+Mr. Walkingshaw's chair, his master arrested him by pointing to his
+glass. The vigilant Andrew bent forward in his seat.
+
+"Are you giving the system up?" he inquired, with his cross-examining
+smile.
+
+"I feel that a glass of wine would do me good to-night," his father
+replied with dignity.
+
+"Oh, I'm so glad to see you enjoying yourself again, Heriot!" smiled
+Mrs. Dunbar.
+
+"Thank you. Thank you, Madge," said he, and made a little courteously
+old-fashioned indication that he drank to her health.
+
+The lady in a sprightly fashion returned his toast, and the junior
+partner frowned. He disapproved of Mrs. Dunbar, he strongly suspected
+her of ulterior designs, and he regarded the adoption of Christian names
+by second cousins as superfluous, and in the circumstances a little
+indecorous. His long upper lip grew longer as he addressed his relative.
+
+"I was under the impression it was you who encouraged him to go in for
+this so-called system."
+
+"Oh, but it's possible to overdo everything, you know," said the lady,
+with a smile whose sweetness he inwardly decided to be compounded of
+some base imitation of sugar. "Don't you agree with me, Heriot?"
+
+"Absolutely," pronounced her host, with emphasis.
+
+So passionate a lover naturally regretted parting even for a moment from
+his betrothed, yet under the circumstances Andrew felt decidedly
+relieved when the ladies left the room, and the three Walkingshaw men
+drew together at the end of the table. His father passed the port to his
+sons and then helped himself. Andrew frowned again: he believed in never
+neglecting an opportunity for salutary criticism.
+
+"Oh, you're going to take port too?"
+
+"I am," said Mr. Walkingshaw, and drinking his glass straight off,
+filled it afresh.
+
+Andrew drew down the corners of his lips, raised his eyebrows, and
+glanced across at his brother; but Frank was staring abstractedly at the
+tablecloth.
+
+The second glass seemed to revive their father. He smacked his lips over
+it with something of his old gusto, threw out his chest, frowned
+formidably, yet with a certain complacency, and said--
+
+"I've had to perform an unpleasant duty this afternoon, Andrew."
+
+Andrew pricked up his ears and looked sternly expectant. Yet on neither
+of them did the idea of an unpleasant duty seem to have a saddening
+effect.
+
+"That fellow Vernon has been making love to Jean. I ordered him out of
+the house. He's off to London again, I'm thankful to say."
+
+"Upon my word!" said Andrew.
+
+He looked as though he had been told of the attempted assassination of
+the President of the Court of Session. But on Frank the news produced
+quite a different effect. He started out of his reverie and exclaimed--
+
+"You ordered him out? Poor Jean!"
+
+The two older and wiser men turned upon him together.
+
+"Yes, sir," said his father, "I did order him out. It would have been
+'poor Jean' if I hadn't."
+
+"I'd have kicked him downstairs!" said Andrew.
+
+"You'd have had a devilish thin time if you'd tried," retorted his
+brother. "Vernon could take you across his knee. He's a good fellow--a
+deuced good fellow; he'd have made Jean a deuced good husband. Kick him
+downstairs? By Gad, you'd have squealed when the kicking began!"
+
+He addressed himself entirely to his brother, though he had done no more
+than approve of the exiling of Lucas, and he spoke with a curious
+bitterness. Mr. Walkingshaw struck the table with his fist, not
+passionately, in any disorder of mind, but sternly and effectively.
+
+"Hold your tongue," he said, and kept his eyes on him to see that he
+held it.
+
+Frank rose.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he said to his father, and, not looking again at
+his brother, walked out of the room.
+
+The two wiser heads, being then left undisturbed by the follies of
+youth, discussed at length and in complete accord the outrageous episode
+of the afternoon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+Frank strode hurriedly across the hall, flung into the library, and
+there relieved his feelings by a few crisp expletives. Gloom succeeded
+anger, but after a few minutes youth began to prevail even over these
+high emotions. He turned up the light, adjusted his tie and smoothed his
+hair before the mirror over the mantelpiece, and ran upstairs to the
+drawing-room. Outside the door he paused, looking now like the expectant
+watcher on the platform. Faintly he heard Ellen Berstoun's voice, and
+the same look came into his eyes as when he caught the distant roaring
+of the train. He straightened his neck, banished all expression from his
+face as a soldier should, and entered the room.
+
+It is generally conceded by such as have enjoyed the privilege of
+sitting in a drawing-room waiting for the gentlemen to lay down their
+cigars that no period of the day is more immune from the bustle and
+turmoil of modern life. But the peace of an ordinary drawing-room was a
+bank holiday compared with the Walkingshaws'. Not too much gas was
+burned, or too much coal, since money is not made and well-born wives
+secured by waste of fuel. That leads to mere cheerfulness. The monastic
+atmosphere was completed by the Victorian upholstery and the hushed
+voices of the four ladies, so that even the young soldier instinctively
+trod more like a burglar than a Cromarty Highlander as he advanced
+towards one of the groups of two.
+
+Near the fireplace sat Miss Walkingshaw and Mrs. Dunbar engaged on
+fancy-work, and occasionally murmuring references to "my last
+cook"--"that tall girl Jane." But it was not they that Frank approached.
+On two chairs very close together and far removed from the others, Jean
+and Ellen talked. Their voices, too, were hushed, but the subject of
+their conversation was evidently more agitating than cooks. In fact,
+there was something very like a sob more than once in Jean's voice, and
+Ellen held her hand and gently pressed it. But when poor Jean saw her
+favorite brother coming towards her with a warm sympathy in his eyes
+that told her he knew her trouble, she could control herself no longer.
+Up she jumped, and throwing him one wry, tearful smile as she passed,
+ran out of the room.
+
+The two elder ladies looked up and then down again at their work. They
+had not yet heard of the painful episode. Frank came forward and took
+his sister's chair, which had been drawn so very close to Ellen's. He
+was thus able, by exercising caution, to take up the confidential
+conversation.
+
+"I suppose she has told you?" he muttered, with a wary glance towards
+his aunt.
+
+"Yes," murmured Ellen. "I'm so sorry!"
+
+She looked nearly as distressed as Jean, and her gentle voice made her
+words sound like a sweet lament for all unhappy loves.
+
+"I call it the deuce of a shame!" said the soldier.
+
+"Can't we do anything to persuade your father?"
+
+He was conscious of a little glow at being adopted so instinctively as
+an ally.
+
+"I've told him what I think about it."
+
+"Have you?"--there was a sparkle in her eyes.--"How good of you! What
+did he say?"
+
+"Told me to hold my tongue."
+
+Her face fell.
+
+"I must talk to Andrew about it."
+
+Frank smiled sardonically.
+
+"I'm afraid you won't find him very sympathetic either."
+
+She looked down at her little pointed shoe and said nothing.
+
+"Who isn't very sympathetic, Frank?" asked Miss Walkingshaw, suddenly
+looking up.
+
+He started guiltily.
+
+"Oh--er--a lot of fellows one can think of," he explained.
+
+Mrs. Dunbar looked at the two young people curiously. She knew whom she
+herself did not consider sympathetic, and jumped to a conclusion. There
+was nothing the junior partner would dislike more than being critically
+discussed by that dear girl who was so much too nice for him, and that
+engaging boy who was so infinitely better-looking. It seemed a pity they
+could not enjoy their conversation without interruption.
+
+"Would you like me to play you something, dear?" she asked.
+
+"Oh yes, dear," said Miss Walkingshaw. "Do, please!"
+
+They were the most affectionate of friends. Indeed, it was touching to
+see how devoted Madge was to Heriot's wintry sister. Nobody else had
+ever seen so much in her to love.
+
+The music began, and, once started, showed no sign of stopping. Over the
+top of her music Mrs. Dunbar's black eyes smiled a discreet approval of
+the confidential pair. She only wished that Andrew, gagged and bound
+beneath his brother's chair, was here to listen to them. She was sure
+they must be discussing something it would do him good to hear.
+
+"Is Mr. Vernon a very nice man?" asked Ellen.
+
+"One of the best. These artist fellows are apt to be a bit
+swollen-headed for my taste, but Lucas Vernon's a sportsman."
+
+She appreciated the distinction succinctly indicated.
+
+"He does sound nice," she said. "Oh, I wish everybody had enough money!"
+
+Frank drew another distinction.
+
+"Everybody who deserved it, anyhow."
+
+"Well," said Ellen softly, "if I had the arrangement of things, I would
+risk it and give _everybody_ enough. It makes me so unhappy to see
+people longing for things they can never possibly get--whether they
+deserve them or not."
+
+The young soldier looked at her oddly from the corner of his eye. Could
+it be possible that two people could sit so close together and speak in
+such hushed confidence, and yet that one of them could be so strangely
+oblivious as not to know when she had laid her slender little finger on
+the other's open wound? He had the strictest notions of duty and of
+honor: it was absolutely essential she never should realize: but, alas!
+the sympathetic widow was playing the most divinely romantic waltz. To
+complete the horrible temptation, Ellen looked suddenly at him with her
+tender eyes shining and her delicate skin gently flushed and murmured--
+
+"It makes me wretched--I pity them so!"
+
+The waltz grew more romantic with every note, the temptation to feel
+this pity soothe his own wound more irresistible.
+
+"I'm one of 'em," he said.
+
+He endeavored to compromise with duty by throwing the most unfeeling
+ferocity into his confession; but even the best drilled soldier cannot
+simultaneously advance and stand where he was.
+
+Ellen's eyes were riveted on him now.
+
+"I'm sorry. Have I said anything I shouldn't?"
+
+She looked distressed, and he realized he had overdone the ferocity.
+
+"No, no, I assure you. I only meant I--I--well, one can't have
+everything."
+
+He wished that delirious waltz would stop. It made it so hard to collect
+one's thoughts, and especially to recover the blank countenance he had
+managed to assume before he took this chair and heard that music and
+looked into those eyes. She smiled with playful kindness.
+
+"Are you so frightfully hard up?"
+
+"It isn't money! Oh, can't you--"
+
+He didn't finish his sentence; nor did he need to. A sudden light dawned
+in Ellen's eyes; her lips instinctively parted; and then she turned her
+face away. And thus they sat for what seemed an hour, while the
+sympathetic widow poured out voluptuous harmonies without cessation.
+
+In reality it was only two minutes later that Mr. Walkingshaw and Andrew
+entered: the senior partner looking, for a habitual diner-out, curiously
+flushed after his mild indulgence in port; the junior partner's full
+cheeks bulging with the backwash of a lover's smile. Frank sprang up,
+and his brother, smiling even more affectionately, took his chair. At
+the same moment the widow stopped playing, and the scales seemed
+suddenly to fall from the young soldier's eyes. He saw himself as the
+most despicable villain in Europe, and Ellen as lost for ever, whether
+as sister or friend. So distraught was he that he had nearly tried to
+open a mid-Victorian cabinet before he discovered it was not the door.
+Downstairs he hurried wildly, threw on an ulster and cap, and the front
+door banged behind him.
+
+The unhappy young man looked up at the circle of solemn mansions which
+towered above him, black against the dark gray heavens, and it seemed to
+him that each one as he passed it silently rebuked him; while the trees
+across the street, even though they were decidedly less solid, gave vent
+to their displeasure audibly. He had been brought up in the severest
+Scotch traditions, and though life in the army had vastly changed his
+outlook, it had in certain particulars but substituted "form" for
+"duty." To-night both standards rose spectrally and shook their awful
+fingers at him. He had let his heart get the better of his head! No
+member of his family (save luckless Jean) whom he ever knew or heard of
+had done such a thing before. Or if they had, the indiscretion had been
+judiciously hushed up, and the family escutcheon kept stainless. As for
+the divinity he had scandalized, she would never forgive him; she would
+always think of him as a traitor to his respectable brother!
+
+At this point a little star peeped out of the hurrying clouds and
+vanished again instantly. It was as though some power above had winked.
+
+On he strode through the steep, empty streets, lines of black freestone
+houses, built by regular church-goers and unbreathed upon by scandal
+ever since, frowning upon him perpetually; and the wind, which had risen
+greatly, wailing and booming all sorts of morals. And now a fresh
+trouble agitated him. He was growing less contrite! He kept seeing his
+brother's bulging cheeks, and Ellen's innocent, kind smile, and all
+sorts of backslidings suggested themselves. He had been criminal enough
+to fall in love, and now was added another crime--he could not fall out
+again. Never had he dreamt of such depths of depravity in him, Frank
+Walkingshaw.
+
+Again a little star twinkled for an instant.
+
+It was a full two hours later that he returned home, footsore (for he
+had been walking in his pumps) and with a mind as far from calm as ever.
+He assumed that everybody would be in bed, but no sooner had he shut the
+door than Jean appeared, flying downstairs to meet him.
+
+"Oh," she cried, with a note of disappointment, "I hoped it was the
+doctor!"
+
+"The doctor!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Hush!" she whispered, and came close up to him. "Father has suddenly
+been taken very ill."
+
+At that moment Andrew also appeared, to see who had entered. He looked
+portentously grave.
+
+"Well," he said, "what have I been saying? It's happened just exactly as
+anybody but a fool might have known it would--just precisely. He's no
+one to blame but himself for it--and his precious Mrs. Dunbar."
+
+He rubbed his hands almost pleasantly.
+
+"That quack's done for him--and his wine to-night finished the job.
+Well, I warned him against both. People that will not take advice must
+bide the consequences. Are you going to stay up for Dr. Mackenzie,
+Jean?"
+
+"Of course," she said.
+
+"Well then, I might as well get off to my bed. If there's any immediate
+danger,"--his face grew very solemn,--"if the end's expected in the
+night, or anything like that, just knock on my door."
+
+The junior partner bade them a grave good-night and retired; and such
+imaginative persons as are not satisfied with this bald record of facts,
+may picture him either as offering up a brief prayer for his father's
+happy recovery, or meditating upon the image of his betrothed--or both.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+Fortunately, it proved unnecessary to disturb the junior partner during
+the night, but next morning, when he had heard the doctor's report and
+personally visited the sick-bed, he took the most serious view of the
+situation. He summoned his two married sisters, urging them to lose no
+time; he spent only half an hour at the office; and then he sat down
+with his _Scotsman_ in the library (his Bible accessible in case of
+emergencies) to await the developments that he grieved to think were now
+practically inevitable. The doctor had paid a second visit and given the
+gloomiest report. Put in a nutshell, it came to this: that he could make
+neither head nor tail of his patient's symptoms, but that, as they were
+clearly the result of a course of treatment at the hands of an
+unqualified practitioner, it was improbable that Mr. Walkingshaw would
+recover from the consequences of his error.
+
+In the afternoon he was told that his father would like to see him. He
+had finished the _Scotsman_ and begun a conversation with his betrothed
+in a gently facetious vein, but it took him not a moment to adjust his
+features to the rigidity of an urn, and save for the faint squeaking of
+his boots, he ascended the stairs with noiseless solemnity. He found Mr.
+Walkingshaw propped up on pillows and breathing heavily. The demeanor of
+both was exactly becoming to the situation.
+
+"Are you suffering much pain?" inquired the son in a hushed voice.
+
+"It comes and goes," sighed the father. "It was just diabolical a few
+minutes ago; now it's a wee thing better, thanks."
+
+"A kind of temporary relief," suggested the son.
+
+"Possibly, possibly. I'd like to think it was going to last, though."
+
+"I wish I could hold out hopes," said Andrew sympathetically.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw stirred suddenly.
+
+"The doctor's not given me up yet, surely?" he exclaimed in a louder
+voice.
+
+"Hush, hush! It'll only hurry things if you let yourself get excited."
+
+"But, Andrew, my dear boy, tell me what he said to you."
+
+The junior partner shook his head, kindly but resolutely.
+
+"No, no; not yet awhile. So long as your mind remains clear, just keep
+composed; and then, when you feel any decided change, I'll hold nothing
+back from you, and we can get the rest of the family round the bedside.
+You'll agree that's the best thing."
+
+The orthodoxy of this programme ought, one would think, to have soothed
+the W.S. But it is strange what fancies sick men take.
+
+"I don't agree at all," said Mr. Walkingshaw warmly. "In fact, I may
+tell you Cyrus warned me there might be kind of temporary
+complications."
+
+He looked at his son for a moment and then added, with sudden decision--
+
+"Andrew, I'd like to see Cyrus."
+
+A grim smile dilated Andrew's cheeks.
+
+"You'll have to catch him first. He's off."
+
+"Off?"
+
+"Bolted this morning as soon as he heard he'd done for you. I hear he
+owes a couple of hundred pounds in the town, one way and another. That's
+your Professor for you!"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw groaned. His son thought it well to improve the
+occasion, since he did not expect to have many more.
+
+"Him and his radio-electricity! What was it he was going to do--renew
+the cells of the body?"
+
+"Well, why shouldn't cells be renewed?" protested the invalid weakly.
+
+"There will be," said his son facetiously. "He'll find himself in one
+again or I'm mistaken."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw lay silent for a few minutes. Then suddenly he groaned.
+
+"Another of them coming on!" he muttered, and twisted his face away.
+
+It was a few minutes more before he spoke again.
+
+"I trust they'll catch the rascal! Andrew, my boy, can you not do
+anything to assist the police?"
+
+It was impressive to see how adequately the junior partner handled each
+fresh development of the situation. At these last words he looked
+exceedingly grave.
+
+"Had your thoughts not better be turning to other things?" he suggested.
+
+The invalid's head started forward from the pillow.
+
+"Will you have the kindness to mind your own--" he began; and then, in
+judgment, another spasm assailed him.
+
+Andrew closed his eyes, drew down the corners of his mouth, and his lips
+moved silently but evidently piously. It was impossible to remain
+callous to such an elevating influence.
+
+"You are right, Andrew; you are right," said his father. "And now, just
+supposing I was taken, you'll see that affair of Guthrie and Co. through
+the way we decided on?"
+
+Andrew opened his eyes immediately and exhibited a fresh instance of his
+adaptability to each changing circumstance.
+
+"I've just been thinking of a better method still," he answered
+promptly. "Why should the creditors get any more than they're legally
+entitled to? You mind yon five thousand pounds invested in the Grand
+Trunk Railway?"
+
+"Perfectly, perfectly."
+
+"Well, when one goes into the thing, they've really no more than a moral
+right to that; and if one once begins on moral rights, there's no end to
+them."
+
+"That sounds a bit worldly-wise, Andrew; but as you like--as you like."
+
+His junior partner regarded him severely.
+
+"I may remind you that I'm only following your own precepts."
+
+"One says things in health that one repents of on a bed of sickness.
+Manage Guthrie and Co. as you like, but don't quote me if you mean to
+neglect moral obligations. I had the decency never to quote my own
+father, and it's the least you can do for yours, Andrew."
+
+Andrew still looked displeased. It seemed to his fastidious ears that
+there was an unpleasant smack of something remotely resembling cynicism
+in this speech. It sounded almost as though he were expected to
+acquiesce in the outrageous proposition that members of his family
+occasionally allowed moral to be overridden by practical considerations.
+He could not conceive of himself admitting the possibility of such a
+thing even in the secret recesses of his soul. It was most uncomfortable
+to listen to his own father going on like this. He must be very ill
+indeed--evidently at death's door.
+
+He walked to the window and looked out gloomily upon the gray clouds
+driving over the black chimney-cans. The wind had risen to a moderate
+gale, and the air was filled with sounds. It struck him as a very
+uproarious day for a Writer to the Signet to be going to his long home.
+He had given his father credit for soberer tastes. In fact, he was
+reminded unpleasantly of the riotous people he had heard of who passed
+away in company with a pint of champagne and a cigar. This sort of thing
+would really not do.
+
+"About my will, Andrew," said his father's voice.
+
+He turned with remarkable alacrity and a forgiving eye. At once he was
+the deferential offspring.
+
+"You'll find you're left very well off," continued Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+His son's cheeks bulged in a melancholy smile; precisely the right smile
+under the circumstances.
+
+"Not at the expense of the others, I hope," he answered modestly.
+
+"Oh, I was meaning you'd be well off as a family."
+
+The smile subsided.
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon," said Andrew.
+
+"But of course you'll get the bulk."
+
+The smile mournfully returned.
+
+"You have the position to keep up, and I thought it only fair to you,"
+said Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+Andrew bent his head in solemn acknowledgment of the truth of this
+observation and the justice of the arrangement.
+
+"There's just one little addendum I want to make. This unpleasant affair
+of Jean's has set me thinking, and supposing I'm taken, Andrew--just
+supposing--"
+
+"Assuming it's as we fear--I understand, I understand."
+
+"Well, then, you see, I'll not be here myself to keep Frank and Jean
+from doing foolish-like things if they happen to have a mind to; and
+they're not like you and their sisters. You've all chosen sensibly, but
+they're in a kind of way different. I ought to have had them educated at
+home."
+
+"What I've always said," his son agreed.
+
+"Anyhow, it's too late now, and what I'll just have to do is
+this--introduce a clause making them forfeit their shares if they marry
+without your consent in the next five years."
+
+"Would ten not be safer?" suggested Andrew.
+
+"We'll say seven, then. And of course you'll not withhold your consent
+unreasonably? I'll trust you for that."
+
+Andrew's attitude expressed to such perfection the confidence that might
+be reposed in him that his father shed him a satisfied smile.
+
+"And now," said he, "I wonder had you not better get me my will?--or we
+might wait till to-morrow, and see how I'm feeling then."
+
+If the junior partner had looked grave before, he looked funereal now.
+
+"Your mind's clear now," he said. "I wouldn't put it off."
+
+"Well, well," said Mr. Walkingshaw, "there are my keys on the
+dressing-table: you know where to find the will."
+
+Andrew went downstairs as solemnly as he had come up, and with the same
+faint squeak.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+It never occurred to Frank and Jean to blame their father in any way for
+electing so boisterous a day for his probable decease. Clearly they had
+not so fine an instinct for respectability as their brother. Their
+orthodoxy, compared with his, was built upon a sandy foundation: warm
+hearts can never hope to sustain, in its impressive equipoise, the head
+of an Andrew Walkingshaw. One might as well expect to find sap running
+up the legs of his office stool.
+
+That afternoon they instinctively drifted away from the others and sat
+unhappily together. The gusty booming of the wind and the clash of
+branches in the garden across the gale-scourged street tormented them
+with fancies. It seemed as though a thousand riotous misfortunes were
+buffeting their hearts.
+
+"Rain!" cried Jean, with a little start and then a shiver.
+
+"Isn't it beastly?" muttered Frank, his eyes on the carpet.
+
+It came on with the sudden violence of a thunder-clap. In a moment the
+tossing trees became gesticulating ghosts seen dimly through a veil of
+glistening rods of water sharply diagonal--nearly horizontal; and even
+through the musketry rattle on the window-panes they could hear the
+pavement hiss beneath their deluge.
+
+"Oh, Frank dear!" murmured Jean.
+
+Giving way to illogical tenderness, the young soldier took her hand and
+held it.
+
+Of course, the least turn for hard argument would have reassured them.
+The storm would blow over; they could find new lovers; their father,
+even suppose he died, would receive suitable interment. Besides, they
+would be the richer by his decease. But they remained foolishly moved.
+
+"If anything does happen to father," said Jean sorrowfully, "I shall
+never forgive myself."
+
+Frank looked surprised.
+
+"Forgive yourself--for what?"
+
+"For not loving him more. I almost hated him yesterday."
+
+Her voice sank very low and she looked apprehensively at her brother.
+But he did not rebuke her as he ought.
+
+"It's jolly difficult to love him sometimes," he admitted sadly.
+
+She seemed to gain courage.
+
+"Frank," she said, "have you _ever_ actually felt as affectionate about
+him as one ought?"
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"He never struck me as wanting that kind of thing. I've respected him,
+of course."
+
+"Oh, so have I--enormously."
+
+"Well," said Frank, "that's all he wanted out of us, I fancy."
+
+"Still," she murmured, "we might have given him something more."
+
+"'Pon my word, I don't know what he'd have done with it."
+
+She could not but admit that that, in fact, was just the difficulty. The
+cultivation of sentiment had not been included in Mr. Walkingshaw's
+youthful curriculum. His father before him had enjoyed but two forms of
+relaxation from his daily burden of obligations to clients and Calvin--a
+glass of good claret, and a primitive form of golf played with a missile
+of feathers in the interstices of a tract of whins. His mother had not
+even these amusements. Small wonder Heriot Walkingshaw found it a
+little difficult to sympathize with soft creatures who demanded
+hot-water bottles at night and affection by day. Jean had a weakness for
+both, and had only managed to obtain the hot bottle--and even that was a
+secret.
+
+The deluge continued and the wind bellowed. Lower and lower sank their
+spirits.
+
+"I sometimes wish I were more like Andrew," sighed Jean.
+
+The young soldier started.
+
+"Oh, Heaven forbid!" he exclaimed, and then in a moment added in a low
+voice, "I wish I had his luck, though."
+
+Jean softly pressed his hand. She understood.
+
+"I wish you had, Frank," she whispered.
+
+As if in rebuking answer to these impious desires, the portly form of
+Andrew filled the doorway. He looked like the reincarnation of all the
+mourners who had ever followed a hearse.
+
+"He is worse," he said in a sepulchral voice. "The end's not far off.
+You had better come up and see him."
+
+In the sick chamber they found already assembled Miss Walkingshaw, Mrs.
+Dunbar, Ellen (who kept in the background and never caught Frank's eye
+once), and their two elder sisters. Of this pair, Maggie, the eldest of
+them all, had long been coupled with Andrew as the two greatest credits
+to the family. She was the wife (and incidentally, it was said, the
+making) of Ramornie of Pettigrew, a laird of good estate in the kingdom
+of Fife. Her business capacity was almost equal to her brother's. She
+had extracted Pettigrew from the hands of the friends who had been
+"doing him no good," paid off the bonds on his property, presented him
+with three creditable children, including the necessary heir male, and
+would undoubtedly have put him into Parliament could she have ensured
+her own presence always at his side. But as he would have to deliver his
+speeches himself, even if she composed them, she was content with making
+him a deputy-lieutenant. In person this lady suggested the junior
+partner as well as in mind. She, however, was blonde, and though her
+cheeks took after his, her upper lip was not quite so substantial.
+
+Gertrude, the second sister, was now Mrs. Donaldson, wife of Hector
+Donaldson, advocate. At the time, it was considered a middling sort of
+marriage; since his cross-examination of the co-respondent in Macpherson
+_v._ Macpherson and Tattenham-Welby, it had been considered a creditable
+marriage; and if his practice continued its present rate of increase,
+it would soon become a good marriage. In any case, she had justified the
+Walkingshaw reputation for investing money or person soundly and
+shrewdly. She resembled her father, and he had always been considered a
+fine-looking man. Both Andrew and Maggie thought she got too many of her
+clothes in London. They made her a little conspicuous, and they hoped
+she could afford it. Still, one heard very encouraging things said of
+Hector nowadays.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw was evidently weakening. He lay back with his eyes
+closed till they were all assembled, and then Andrew, who seemed to have
+the entire management of the melancholy ceremony, stepped up to the
+bedside and, with lowered eyelids, murmured--
+
+"They are all here now."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw opened his eyes.
+
+"I'm likely to be taken," he said in a weak voice. "Andrew'll have told
+you."
+
+He paused: and one little stifled sob was heard, too gentle to catch his
+ear. It came from Jean.
+
+"I'd just like to say a word to you all before I go. I've tried my best
+to do my duty by my children and my sister and my kinsfolk."
+
+At this specific inclusion of herself the sympathetic widow could keep
+silence no longer.
+
+"Indeed you have, Heriot!" she murmured.
+
+"Hush!" said Andrew sternly.
+
+"Let them say what they feel, Andrew," said his father, with a glance of
+melancholy kindness at the widow. "It's natural enough."
+
+Mrs. Ramornie at once took that hint, and her brief words of eulogy were
+corroborated by a general murmur.
+
+"Thank you, thank you," said Mr. Walkingshaw. "I may possibly have made
+mistakes now and then--I am but human. At the same time, I think there's
+none will gainsay I've shown a kind of respectable example. It's a great
+thing to be thankful for if one can die without making an exhibition of
+oneself--a great thing to be thankful for."
+
+The master of ceremonies by a grave glance indicated to the company that
+another approving murmur would be appropriate, and his own voice led the
+hum.
+
+"I've another thing to be thankful for," resumed the invalid, "and
+that's my eldest son. Andrew'll take good care of you all--of you and
+the business both. Oh, Frank, my lad, he's a fine example to you; just
+as your sister Maggie is to you, Jean. Mind you both follow them. You'll
+never give folks reason to talk about you then. Don't get yourselves
+talked about! That's the main thing. Of course, you'll take every
+opportunity of bettering yourselves, both of you; but do it in a kind of
+sober, decent way. Do it like Andrew: I can say no more than that."
+
+All eyes were sadly fixed on the two distressed young people, but they
+made no answer, and the affecting scene now terminated with these last
+few words--
+
+"If by any kind of chance it happens I'm given a year or two more after
+all, I'll take no more part in worldly matters. I'll leave things to
+you, Andrew, just the same as if I was gone. If I linger on, a chastened
+man, taking for a wee while an interest in your welfare, that's all that
+will be left to me--that's the whole I look forward to."
+
+Andrew's sorrowful eyes replied, "And that's more than we do," as he
+silently shook his father's hand. Then the company tiptoed sadly out of
+the sick-room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+Of all the anticipatory mourners, the most demonstrative was the
+sympathetic widow. She could barely control her emotion till she reached
+the drawing-room. There she broke down quite.
+
+"Oh, Mary, Mary!" she sobbed.
+
+They were alone together--Mary, commonly styled Miss Walkingshaw, and
+she. The exemplary spinster was likewise distressed, but in a calmer
+manner, as became a lady who had shared Heriot's Spartan upbringing.
+
+"Whisht, whisht," said she. "He'll maybe get over it yet."
+
+"No--no, he won't! That horrible beast will see that he doesn't!"
+
+Miss Walkingshaw started nervously.
+
+"You're not meaning the nurse?"
+
+"I mean that--ugh!--that Andrew!"
+
+A bright pink spot appeared in each of Miss Walkingshaw's cheeks. But
+the widow was too agitated to observe either them or the horrified stare
+with which she greeted this outburst.
+
+"I believe he would _kill_ him to spite me!"
+
+"Madge!" said the exemplary spinster in a voice which for the first time
+reminded her of Heriot's.
+
+Mrs. Dunbar collected herself. Doubtless she realized the injustice she
+was doing that excellent man.
+
+"I am sorry, Mary," she said gently. "I don't know what I'm saying. I
+admire Andrew as much as any one. I didn't mean it. It was only that I
+felt I _had_ to blame some one for this terrible sorrow."
+
+Her friend continued to look at her with decidedly diminished warmth.
+
+"Our religion forbids us--" she began austerely; but the sympathetic
+widow hurriedly anticipated her.
+
+"I know, I know, dear--so it does. How true, Mary; oh, how true! How
+sweet of you to remind me."
+
+She turned her large black eyes, glistening pathetically, full upon her
+friend; but for some reason Mary continued to regard her with a new and
+curious expression. A trace of suspicion seemed to be among its
+ingredients.
+
+Meanwhile her slandered nephew was in the library with his two elder
+sisters. The gas was now lit and the storm curtained out. Mrs. Ramornie
+and Andrew talked in decorously lowered voices; Mrs. Donaldson more
+loudly, and almost more airily, as became her dashing appearance and
+smart reputation. Yet she too had a nice sense of the solemnity of the
+occasion, and they forgave her elevated voice, since they knew several
+people of rank who talked like that.
+
+"An irretrievable loss," Andrew was saying; "an irretrievable loss."
+
+They agreed with him as heartily as people could who were feeling so
+depressed.
+
+"A public loss," he added; and again they concurred.
+
+"That will have to be taken into consideration in making the
+arrangements," he went on.
+
+They looked graver than ever.
+
+"Something like Sir James Maitland's?" suggested Mrs. Donaldson.
+
+"Something of the sort," said he.
+
+"I only hope it will not be a wet day," said Mrs. Ramornie. "George
+caught lumbago at his last funeral--Lord Pitcullo's, you know."
+
+George was the laird of Pettigrew. Nowadays his wife saw that he mixed
+with none but the most desirable company, whether it were alive or
+dead.
+
+"Oh, my dear, he must come over for it!" said her sister.
+
+"He will," replied Mrs. Ramornie; and they knew that point was settled.
+
+"To tell the honest truth, I'm devoutly thankful for one thing,"
+observed Andrew, with the first smile he had permitted himself, and even
+it was appropriately grim: "this will put Madge Dunbar's nose out of
+joint."
+
+"Thank Heaven for that!" replied Mrs. Ramornie devoutly.
+
+"She meant to get him," said Mrs. Donaldson. "I never saw a woman try
+harder."
+
+"If you'd been living in the house, you'd have seen still more of her
+trying," replied her brother.
+
+Another fierce shower beat upon the window, with it the gale rose higher
+and the branches clashed more noisily. Even behind curtains one felt in
+the presence of something elemental. Silence fell on the three, and when
+they spoke again it was more solemnly than ever.
+
+"It will make a considerable difference to us all, of course," said Mrs.
+Donaldson.
+
+Her brother seemed to take this as a question, for he nodded gravely and
+answered--
+
+"Oh, decidedly it will make that."
+
+She mused for a moment and then turned to her sister.
+
+"What was the name of the shoot the Hendersons had last season?"
+
+"Glenfiddle."
+
+"They paid two hundred, didn't they?"
+
+"Two hundred and twenty," said Andrew.
+
+He was a mine of information on the affairs of his acquaintances,
+especially on what they paid for things.
+
+"Can you not get enough invitations in the meantime?" asked Mrs.
+Ramornie.
+
+"Oh, dozens. But we want a little shoot of our own--when we can afford
+it."
+
+"I only mean to build that new conservatory we've always been talking
+about," said Mrs. Ramornie; and Andrew pursed his lips and nodded his
+approval. The pursing was meant as a hint of criticism on their too
+dashing sister.
+
+It was at that moment that there came the first gentle tap upon the
+door.
+
+"Come in," said Andrew, and the invalid's nurse entered.
+
+"Mr. Walkingshaw would like a pint bottle of champagne," said she.
+
+The junior partner stared first at her and then at his sisters. They in
+turn opened their eyes.
+
+"Is it the--er--usual thing?" he inquired.
+
+"The doctor said nothing about it. Who would ever imagine he was going
+to want champagne again?"
+
+"Is it ever given?" asked Andrew cautiously.
+
+"Oh, I know it's given," interposed Mrs. Ramornie decisively. "George's
+uncle drank it up to five minutes before he died."
+
+George's uncle had been a very bad example. At the same time he had been
+a baronet, and Andrew swithered between the dissoluteness of the request
+and a certain stylishness it undoubtedly possessed.
+
+"Mr. Walkingshaw is very determined for it," said the nurse.
+
+"Very well," he answered. "I'll get it for you."
+
+He went out with her and then returned to his sisters.
+
+"Does it mean the end is near?" asked Mrs. Donaldson in a very hushed
+voice.
+
+"It means it's nearer," he answered grimly.
+
+Undoubtedly this was a wild end for one of the most respectable lives
+ever lived in Edinburgh. Outside, the gale was now positively
+shrieking; and inside, he presumed the cork was already popping.
+
+"What a pity!" said Gertrude.
+
+"Oh, I don't know about that," replied her sister. "It keeps them happy.
+George's uncle tried to sing after they thought all was over."
+
+Her brother frowned. The possibility that the head of Walkingshaw &
+Gilliflower might exit singing exceeded his gloomiest forebodings. He
+wished women did not have that habit of talking about unpleasant things.
+Could they not keep the like of that to themselves?
+
+Even as he frowned the second tap disturbed them.
+
+"What is it now?" he snapped.
+
+"Could you tell me," asked the nurse, "where Mr. Walkingshaw keeps his
+cigars?"
+
+"Cigars!" he cried.
+
+"He is very set upon one."
+
+Andrew silently opened a cupboard and handed her a box of cigars. Then,
+still in silence, he seated himself before the fire and frowned at the
+dancing flames. Behind his back his sisters talked in low voices, but he
+seemed to have no taste for further conversation.
+
+A few minutes later came the third tap, and this time there was so
+curious a look in the nurse's face that the junior partner was on his
+feet in an instant.
+
+"Is it--shall we come up?" he exclaimed.
+
+"Mr. Walkingshaw would like to know what there's to be for dinner," said
+the nurse.
+
+He looked at his sisters and they at him, and then he rang the bell.
+Nobody spoke till the butler came up.
+
+"Will you ask the cook what's for dinner? Mr. Walkingshaw wants to
+know."
+
+Andrew threw into this speech all the concentrated bitterness of his
+soul. Here was the quintessence of unorthodoxy in the very home of
+Walkingshaw & Gilliflower! The head of the firm proposed to die not
+merely drinking and smoking, but, if possible, feasting. They might be
+in some wretched Bohemian den.
+
+In a few minutes the butler returned with a menu. Andrew read it with a
+sardonic smile.
+
+"Tell him," he said, "that he can have cocky-leeky soup, boiled cod and
+oyster sauce, loin of mutton, apple charlotte, and cheese straws--any or
+all of them he likes."
+
+"Thank you," said the nurse.
+
+Andrew planted himself before the fire.
+
+"A fine story this is to get about!" he exclaimed darkly.
+
+"But surely father must be light-headed," said Mrs. Ramornie.
+
+"Umph," he replied.
+
+He clearly did not consider this a very creditable excuse.
+
+"Or perhaps he is really feeling better," suggested Gertrude.
+
+"Better! A man at death's door one minute--given up by the doctors--and
+wanting to eat his dinner the next!"
+
+He started.
+
+"I wonder's that nurse fooling us! I didn't like the look of the woman
+from the moment she came into the house. I don't believe in your
+good-looking nurses."
+
+On this point his sisters cordially agreed with him. Still they didn't
+believe it was the nurse.
+
+"Then what is it?" he demanded. "If he's light-headed, why does she pay
+any attention to him?"
+
+The door opened, this time without a tap, and in petrified silence they
+beheld the portly form of Heriot Walkingshaw, arrayed in a yellow
+dressing-gown, holding between his fingers a cigar, and smiling upon
+them with a curious blend of satisfaction and meekness.
+
+"I have recovered," said he.
+
+As he made this simple announcement he blew luxuriously through his nose
+two thin streams of smoke, while the meekness of his aspect seemed to
+make some conscious effort to keep on terms with the satisfaction.
+
+A duet of questions and exclamations arose from the two ladies, and
+again some conscious restraint appeared to underlie the paternal calm
+with which he answered them.
+
+"Yes," said he, "it is probably one of the most extraordinary recoveries
+on record. It began all of a sudden. The spasms passed completely away,
+my temperature fell to normal, and I felt a curious sensation almost of
+exhilaration. It grew stronger and stronger till at last I could keep in
+bed no longer. I felt livelier than I have for years."
+
+He passed the cigar under his nose, drew in his breath, and smiled at it
+with a kind of partially chastened affection.
+
+"Do you think could we not have dinner put on a little earlier, eh?"
+
+A cry from the open door startled them. The sympathetic widow, her
+black eyes dilated, was gazing at the patient.
+
+"Heriot!" she exclaimed, and there was a note in her voice that came
+very near to damping the junior partner's enthusiasm at finding the head
+of his firm restored to him.
+
+"Yes, Madge," said Mr. Walkingshaw, his beatific smile still blander, "I
+have indeed been spared."
+
+He drew another deep whiff from his cigar, and added gently--
+
+"For maybe a few more years of quiet usefulness."
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Down the steep street where stands the office of Walkingshaw &
+Gilliflower, careers a hat. It is a silk hat and of a large size, the
+hat of a professional man of the most dignified standing and evident
+brain capacity. Nothing could show better the innate depravity of March
+winds than their choice of such a hat to play with. They had thousands
+to choose from--bowlers, caps, wideawakes, all kinds of commonplace
+head-gear--and here they have selected for their sport this cylinder of
+silk, symbolical of all most worthy of the city's respect. It leaps and
+bumps and slides, propelled by the breeze and the law of gravitation,
+down the decorously paved hill, in company with a little cloud of dust
+and some scraps of dirty paper. And behind it, now at a canter, now at a
+panting trot, ambles the portly form of Mr. Heriot Walkingshaw. The very
+devil must be in the wind to-day.
+
+At the corner of Queen Street the hat met the full force of the
+easterly blast, and bidding good-by to gravitation, turned at right
+angles and skimmed for forty yards through space as though the brothers
+Wright had mounted it. Then it resumed the action of a Rugby football,
+pitching now on its end and now on its middle, and behaving accordingly
+each time. Mr. Walkingshaw, perceiving that it was now bouncing in the
+direction he desired to go, fell for a moment to a walk and looked
+around for some assistant. But the only spectators within hail happened
+to be two errand boys who had not seen a circus for some time and
+evinced no desire to interrupt the entertainment. So off he started
+again, his white spats twinkling beneath his flapping overcoat, and
+covered the first fifty yards in such promising fashion that he was able
+to strike the revolving rim a series of smart raps with his umbrella
+before the wind had recovered its breath. Then suddenly up leapt the
+hat, cannoned from a lamp-post on to the railings of the Queen Street
+Gardens, from them across the pavement into the gutter, and there,
+getting nicely on edge, careered like a hoop, with the thud of Heriot's
+footsteps growing fainter behind.
+
+Down the next cross street came two acquaintances of the Writer to the
+Signet, and they stopped at the corner in amazement.
+
+"Good God, that's Heriot Walkingshaw!" cried one.
+
+"A man of his age!" replied the other; "he's running like a wing
+three-quarter--look at his stride!"
+
+A benevolent lady half stopped the hat with her umbrella. The W.S. was
+up to it. He stooped to reach it--a quick grab and he had it by the rim.
+
+"Well picked up, sir!" cried one of the acquaintances.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw did not hear. He was on the other side of the street and
+engrossed in brushing his quarry with his coat sleeve.
+
+"It's a wonderful performance," remarked the other acquaintance; "but it
+ought just about to finish him."
+
+"Will it? Look at him--he hasn't turned a hair!"
+
+"It's amazing--positively amazing!" they murmured together as they
+watched their elderly friend not only replace his trophy on his head,
+but cock it at an angle that breathed reckless defiance to the March
+winds.
+
+"Did you ever see Heriot Walkingshaw with his hat at that angle before?"
+
+"As often as I've seen him do even time chasing it!"
+
+Off he strode, breathing faster than usual, and his hat still a little
+ruffled, but otherwise as jaunty a figure as ever left an office; while
+his two acquaintances went away to narrate to the wondering city what
+their astonished eyes had seen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile the junior partner was unburdening his soul to the
+confidential clerk.
+
+"That's the end of Guthrie and Co.!" he exclaimed wrathfully. "The whole
+thing settled in a fortnight--we might be a marriage registry! It's just
+been 'we agree to this,' 'we agree to that,' 'we agree to anything you
+suggest.' We haven't fought a single point. I'd have made those
+creditors whistle a bit before they saw yon five thousand pounds! But
+what's my father say? You heard him yourself--'moral obligation'--'might
+be fought!'--'get it settled.' He's botched the whole business."
+
+Mr. Thomieson shook his grizzled head.
+
+"It's certainly not been our usual way of doing business."
+
+Andrew glowered at his desk.
+
+"He said he was going to leave the business to me, and in forty-eight
+hours he was taking more responsibilities on his shoulders than he had
+for years! He barely has the decency to ask me for my opinion now; and
+when I give it, he tells me it's timid. Timid!" The junior partner's
+voice rose to a shout. "He just goes at things like a bull, and before
+I've time to get in two words edgeways, the thing is settled and he's
+out of the office whistling!"
+
+"That whistling's a queer thing he's taken to," observed the clerk.
+
+"He was doing it coming home from church last Sunday."
+
+"Verra strange, verra strange," commented Mr. Thomieson.
+
+He seemed more struck with the peculiarity of the senior partner's
+conduct; Andrew with its offensiveness.
+
+"He shows a fine grasp of things all the same," added the clerk. "In
+that way it fairly does me good sir, to see him so speerited. It minds
+me of old times."
+
+"A proper like business we'd have had to-day if he'd gone on like this
+in old times!" grumbled Andrew. "He gets through things quick enough, I
+admit; but I tell you he does not take the same interest in them. He
+talks of 'dry details'!"
+
+"Is that so?" said Mr. Thomieson, his eyes opening.
+
+"It's a fact. And he's started cracking jokes with the clerks."
+
+"Aye, I heard him yesterday myself. It sounded awful bad in this
+office."
+
+"I tell you what it'll end in," said Andrew. "It'll end in our losing
+our business--that'll be the end of it. And this is what he calls 'a few
+years of quiet usefulness'!"
+
+The junior partner's upper lip seemed to hang like a curtain half
+covering his face. Behind it he swore so distinctly that the
+confidential clerk discreetly withdrew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+"It's quite remarkable how well I'm keeping--quite astonishing," said
+Mr. Walkingshaw to himself, as he continued his walk with his recovered
+hat perched at the angle that had so surprised his acquaintances.
+
+A month had passed since the stormy afternoon when he had said farewell
+to his family, and he now looked back upon that adieu as the rashest and
+most premature act of his life. Andrew must have frightened him; that
+was the only conceivable excuse for his conduct, seen in the white light
+of his present rude health; and he secretly decided that the junior
+partner had been getting a little too much rope. If you once let these
+lads kick up their heels, the deuce was in it. He would do nothing
+unjust, but he would see that he didn't encourage Andrew to alarm him
+again. Thus does the virtue even of the most exemplary occasionally
+over-exert itself.
+
+Meanwhile, it was uncommonly pleasant to be able to chase one's hat for
+a quarter of a mile and feel not a twinge of gout or rheumatism after
+the merry pursuit. Mr. Walkingshaw felt half inclined to give his hat a
+start again. What a joke it would be to kick it over the railings next
+time! At this very undignified thought, he recollected himself and for a
+few minutes looked as decorously pompous as the head of the firm should.
+But somehow or other that run seemed to have stirred his blood. The fun
+of kicking his hat over the railings returned so forcibly that there
+spread over his ruddy face a smile which greatly surprised the wife of
+one of his most respected clients passing at that moment in her
+carriage. She too returned home to talk of Mr. Walkingshaw's curious
+demeanor in the public streets of his native city.
+
+The kicking fancy, by a natural chain of thought, reminded him that the
+England and Scotland International was being played next Saturday. He
+must be there, of course; and wouldn't he shout himself hoarse for
+Scotland! He had a moment's dismay when he remembered that old Berstoun
+had made an appointment to come in on Saturday and see him about his
+confounded money affairs. Then he cheered up again. Let the old chap be
+hanged! He would wire and put him off. In fact, he must be put off. For
+had not Madge Dunbar promised to come to the match with him? By this
+time he had reached the door of his house, and it occurred to him
+forcibly that afternoon tea was always a much pleasanter function if
+Madge were present. He hoped she wouldn't be out calling.
+
+The dignified twilight of his hall sobered him considerably. He had been
+following a strangely frivolous line of thought, he told himself.
+Certainly he must never allow his hat to escape again. That run had
+quite upset his equanimity: he found himself going upstairs two steps at
+a time, and had to pause and shorten his stride.
+
+In the drawing-room he found his sister and the widow.
+
+"Hullo!" said the W.S. before he could recollect himself.
+
+"Hullo!" smiled the widow archly.
+
+He had felt ashamed of the exclamation the moment it escaped him, but
+finding it received so prettily, he secretly resolved to say it again
+some day--after a week or two had elapsed, perhaps; confining himself to
+more dignified remarks in the interval.
+
+"You look as though you had heard good news," said Mrs. Dunbar.
+
+"I've been chasing my hat," he chuckled.
+
+He had meant to make no allusion to the undignified episode, and here he
+was blurting it out first thing! He began to feel puzzled by this odd
+persistence of high spirits.
+
+"Not in the street, surely?" said Miss Walkingshaw, with her longest
+face.
+
+"Oh, I hope it was in the street!" cried the widow. "I'd have loved to
+see you!"
+
+Her dear friend regarded this speech with the strongest disapproval; in
+fact, she had never quite approved of Madge since those unlucky words of
+hers. But Mrs. Dunbar had ceased for some reason to show the same marked
+regard for her opinion. It was Heriot who had again refused to hear of
+her leaving, and she seemed content to win his approval.
+
+"It was in the street," smiled Mr. Walkingshaw. "I chased it for quite
+half a mile, and ran it down single-handed. I wish you had been there,
+Madge. You'd have seen there was life in the old dog still!"
+
+He had doubled the distance and forgotten the lady with the umbrella;
+but then, as Andrew had remarked, a distaste for dry detail had suddenly
+become characteristic of his recovered health.
+
+"Too much life sometimes, I think!" she exclaimed coquettishly; and Mr.
+Walkingshaw winked in reply.
+
+He was inwardly as surprised at the wink as he had been at the "hullo."
+These aberrations seemed to come quite spontaneously. He wished he could
+understand what caused them.
+
+"Have you had a tiring day at the office?" asked the dry Scotch voice of
+his sister.
+
+Her familiar accents instinctively banished the aberrations.
+
+"Tolerably, tolerably," he said, with his old air. "We had the affairs
+of Guthrie and Co. to settle up. I settled them, though."
+
+"Andrew would be a great help," she replied, with an apprehensive glance
+at him. She was much in her nephew's confidence at present.
+
+"Andrew, pooh!" said his father. "He'd talk the hind leg off an
+elephant. When things need settling, I just settle them myself and leave
+him to grumble away to Thomieson."
+
+Miss Walkingshaw gasped, and the widow gave the sweetest little laugh.
+
+"Poor Andrew!" said she.
+
+"Poor Andrew indeed," retorted her friend, with more indignation than
+she had almost ever permitted herself in the presence of her formidable
+brother.
+
+He looked at her in genuine surprise. So subtly had his point of view
+altered that he quite failed to grasp her cause of complaint.
+
+"What's the matter, Mary?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, if you don't see, what's the good in my trying to explain?"
+
+He merely stared at her, and the widow tactfully interposed.
+
+"Of course you are going to the match on Saturday?" said she.
+
+"Of course, Madge."
+
+"Have you forgotten Mr. Berstoun is coming to see you?" asked Miss
+Walkingshaw.
+
+He waved aside this objection with a dignified sweep of his hand. A
+piece of cake happened to be in it, and the icing flew across the floor.
+On the instant he was on his hands and knees collecting it.
+
+"Berstoun's a mere nuisance," he answered from the carpet. "He'll never
+get out of debt if he lives to a thousand. What's the good in his coming
+to see me? Let him tell his creditors to go to the devil; that's the
+only sensible thing to do."
+
+He rose chuckling--
+
+"He'll go himself some day; so they'll meet again."
+
+His sister's face was too much for the widow's gravity. She began to
+laugh hysterically, her black eyes dancing all the time in the merriest
+fashion at her host. It was so infectious that in a moment he had joined
+her.
+
+"Won't they?" he kept asking through his chuckles. "Won't they, Madge?"
+
+She kept nodding, choked with laughter, and another strange sensation
+began to puzzle Mr. Walkingshaw. It was not so much something new as
+something forgotten which was beginning to return, and it concerned this
+very sympathetic widow. She was an uncommonly nice woman--really
+uncommonly: and what an odd pleasure he began to feel in her society! He
+felt even more satisfaction than when he had run down his hat.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+It was upon a fine April morning that Mr. Walkingshaw made his momentous
+discovery. His sister had left her room on her way to breakfast when she
+heard his voice calling her. It had so curious a note of excitement that
+she got a little flustered. Whatever could be the matter? She hurried to
+his dressing-room door and tapped with a trembling hand. She was not
+easily agitated as a rule, but her brother had been very disconcerting
+for the past few weeks, and now his voice was odd. She remembered
+reading of gentlemen lying on their dressing-room floors with razors in
+their hands--
+
+"Come in!" he cried impatiently.
+
+She found him dressed all but his coat, and he was standing by the
+window looking out over the street and the circular garden.
+
+"Come here, Mary," he said, and pointed at the houses seen through the
+leafless trees. "Have they been doing anything to the Hendersons'
+house?"
+
+"What doing to it?" she exclaimed.
+
+"Painting it, or brightening it, or--or anything of that kind?"
+
+"Who ever heard of painting a house!"
+
+From which it may be gathered that the good lady was not in the habit of
+visiting other cities.
+
+"Well then, washing it?"
+
+"Mr. Henderson washing his house! Whatever would he do that for?"
+
+"Tuts, tuts," said her brother, "I'm only asking you. It looks so
+uncommonly distinct. Can you not count the chimney-cans?"
+
+"Me? You must get younger eyes than mine, Heriot."
+
+"I can count them," he answered.
+
+"_You_ can! But I thought you'd been complaining you couldn't always
+recognize people across the street nowadays."
+
+"I can count those chimneys," he repeated. "I've counted them five
+times, and they come to fourteen each time. I'd like to get some one
+younger to count them too. Where's Madge Dunbar?"
+
+He started impetuously for the door.
+
+"She's dressing!" cried the horrified lady. "You can't get her in
+here--you with your coat off, too!"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw turned back.
+
+"Well, anyhow," said he, "I'll lay you half a crown there are fourteen
+chimneys on Henderson's house. Will you take it up?"
+
+"When did you hear I'd taken to betting?" she gasped.
+
+He waved aside the reproach airily, much as he waved aside everything
+she said nowadays, the poor lady reflected. His next words merely
+deepened her distress.
+
+"Look at my face carefully," he commanded. "Study it--touch it if you
+like--examine it with a lens--give it your undivided attention while I
+count twenty."
+
+He counted slowly, while she stared conscientiously, afraid even to
+wink. "Now, what have you observed?"
+
+"You're looking very well, Heriot," she answered timidly.
+
+"Did you ever see a man of my age look better?"
+
+"N--no," she stammered.
+
+"Well, don't be afraid to say so, for it's perfectly true. Do you mind a
+kind of deep wrinkle under my eyes? Where's that gone now?"
+
+"I can't imagine, Heriot."
+
+"Well, don't look distressed; it's bonnier away."
+
+"Yes," she said in a flustered voice, "you do have a kind of smoother
+look."
+
+"Smoother and harder," he replied, prodding his ribs with his fingers.
+
+She gave a little cry of distress.
+
+"You're growing thin! Your waistcoat's hanging quite loose. Oh, Heriot,
+it's terrible to see you that way!"
+
+Her heart might be a little withered by all those northern winters, with
+never another heart to keep it warm, but it could still beat faster at a
+breath of suspicion cast upon her hospitality. She had not been feeding
+her only brother properly!
+
+"Tell me yourself what you'd like for your dinner!" she entreated him.
+
+He laughed at her genially.
+
+"Pooh! Tuts! Did you ever in your life see me eat a better dinner than
+I've been taking lately? You might give one a suet pudding oftener, but
+that's all I have to complain of."
+
+Heriot had always been addicted to suet pudding, but for a number of
+years past his doctor's opinion had been adverse to this form of diet
+for a gentleman of gouty habit.
+
+"But what about your gout, Heriot?" she asked.
+
+"Gout? Fiddle-de-dee! Who's got gout? Not I, for one."
+
+He had been glancing complacently at his improved reflection in the
+mirror. Abruptly he stepped up close to the glass and examined his
+visage with unconcealed excitement.
+
+"Good God!" he murmured.
+
+Then, with much the expression Crusoe must have worn when he spied the
+footprint, he turned to his sister, and, grasping a lock of hair upon
+his brow, bent his head towards her, and demanded--
+
+"What color's that?"
+
+"Dear me," she said, "it looks quite brown. I didn't know you had any
+brown hair left."
+
+He raised his head and looked at her in solemn silence till she began to
+feel dreadfully confused. Then he bent again.
+
+"Do you notice anything else?"
+
+"N--no; unless your hair's got thicker. But that's not likely at your
+time of life."
+
+"It is _not_ likely," said he. "It is most improbable--in fact, it is
+practically impossible; but it is thicker."
+
+He rubbed his chin and gazed at her with the queerest look. Mary had
+known him since he trundled a hoop, but she never remembered him go on
+like this before. As for Heriot, he seemed to be debating whether he
+should spring something still more surprising on her or not. But she
+looked so uncomfortable already, so totally without the least clue to
+his mysterious words, so unconscious of anything stranger about him than
+his shirt-sleeves and loss of weight, that he only uttered something
+between a gasp and a sigh, and, turning away from her, took up his
+brushes to smooth his augmented hairs.
+
+"I'll be down to breakfast in a jiffy," he said.
+
+Miss Walkingshaw thought that an odd kind of phrase for Heriot to be
+using.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+Andrew no longer walked to the office with his father in the mornings.
+Not that _he_ had anything to do with the altered custom: in fact, he
+was always most careful to assure his friends that he had more than once
+waited as long as five minutes to give his father the opportunity of
+having his company--if he was wishing it. But Mr. Walkingshaw was never
+less than ten minutes late nowadays.
+
+On this particular morning he set forth a full half-hour after his son.
+He had been very absent-minded after his talk with his sister,--not even
+Mrs. Dunbar could keep his attention for more than a moment,--and he had
+sat for the best part of twenty minutes thoughtfully putting on his
+boots. One or two acquaintances who saw him on the way from his house to
+his office often recalled his demeanor that morning. Now he would loiter
+along with bent shoulders, his hands behind his back, trailing his
+umbrella and brooding as though he contemplated bankruptcy. Then
+suddenly his pace would quicken, the umbrella whirled round and round
+like a Catherine wheel, and with his head held jauntily and the merriest
+smile he would swagger along like a young blood of twenty-six who had
+just been accepted by an heiress. And then abruptly he would lapse into
+his mournful gait.
+
+"I want to see Mr. Andrew," said he, as soon as he was seated in his
+private room.
+
+The junior partner entered with a melancholy visage and a reproachful
+eye.
+
+"Oh, you've come at last," he remarked, too quietly to be rude, too
+pointedly to be pleasant.
+
+But his father seemed not to have heard.
+
+"Sit down, sit down," he said; and then in an earnest manner and with
+the gravest face began, "I've something to tell you, Andrew, that I
+think you ought to know."
+
+Andrew's visage relaxed. This gravity promised better than anything his
+father's behavior had led him to expect of late.
+
+"Something most extraordinary has happened. You've noticed a little kind
+of difference in me of late, possibly?"
+
+"I have," said Andrew, with an intonation that made his acquiescence
+particularly thorough.
+
+"A sort of cheerfulness and healthiness, and so on?"
+
+"And so on," assented Andrew.
+
+"Well, I've accounted for it at last!"
+
+"Oh?" said Andrew.
+
+This did not strike him as quite so interesting. He thought of the
+papers he had left, and glanced at his watch.
+
+"You mind my telling you about Cyrus's theory of the cells of the
+body--that all they needed was the proper kind of stimulation, and
+they'd be as good as new? Well, he went one better than that sometimes.
+I never told you what his idea was--it sounded kind of daft-like when
+you didn't hear him laying it down himself--but I'll tell you now."
+
+His voice sank impressively, and his junior partner grew vaguely uneasy.
+This was a most unsuitable place and hour to be discussing quack medical
+theories. He didn't approve of it at all.
+
+"His idea was that every cell of the body--mine and yours,
+Andrew,"--(Andrew grew exceedingly uncomfortable: this verged on the
+indecent),--"every single cell of them is just a kind of wee vessel in
+which chemical and electrical changes are going on. While they keep
+brisk we keep young, and when they get off the boil, so to speak, we
+grow old. Well now, what's to hinder one stirring them up to boil faster
+and faster, instead of slower and slower? And if they once did that, of
+course you'd begin to grow young instead of going on getting old.
+Andrew, it's happened to me."
+
+Andrew started.
+
+"What has?"
+
+"I'm growing young again!"
+
+His junior partner looked at him for half a minute in dead silence. Then
+he decided that this statement had better be answered humorously.
+
+"Is this story a sample?" he inquired.
+
+"You don't believe me?"
+
+Andrew's cheeks bulged in a faint smile.
+
+"Am I expected to?"
+
+"Look at my waistcoat--when did you ever see it as loose as that, and me
+healthier than I've been for years, and eating more? Look at my
+face--where are the wrinkles gone? Look at my head--how long is it since
+you've seen a patch of brown hair there?"
+
+To complete this overwhelming series of proofs, he leapt up, and with
+an agile jump on one foot whirled the other leg clean over the back of
+his chair.
+
+"It's twenty years and more since I last did that!"
+
+Andrew was fairly startled out of his skepticism now. He had the eyes of
+a goldfish, and his upper lip and swelling cheeks twitched nervously.
+
+"What an awful thing to happen!" he murmured.
+
+"It has happened, though," said his father.
+
+"But surely--oh, it must just be temporary. You don't think it will
+last, do you?"
+
+"I think nothing," replied Mr. Walkingshaw, with conviction. "I have no
+settled opinions left. I am a mass of cells in active eruption."
+
+He began to chuckle.
+
+"I'm like a dashed volcano, Andrew!"
+
+His son looked at him piteously. To suffer this sea change was bad
+enough, but to laugh about it was diabolical. Mr. Walkingshaw could not
+but sober down under such an eye. He gathered his countenance into an
+aspect as portentously solemn as his dwindled wrinkles could achieve.
+His son grieved afresh to see how their passing diminished the once
+overpowering respectability of his parent.
+
+"It's an awful predicament," said Mr. Walkingshaw, shaking his bronzing
+head.
+
+"Awful--just awful! What will people say?"
+
+"That's just what I've been wondering. How am I going to break it to
+them?"
+
+"You're not going to tell people!"
+
+"But they'll notice for themselves."
+
+Andrew gazed at him gloomily.
+
+"It may pass off,"--his face cleared a little,--"in fact, it's certain
+to."
+
+"It doesn't feel much like it at present: I'm fairly bursting with
+spirits," smiled Mr. Walkingshaw, and then recollected himself and grew
+grave again. "What's to be done supposing people do notice?" he asked.
+
+"We'll just have to stretch a point," said Andrew somberly, "and give
+some other explanation."
+
+"We might give some decent, respectable doctor the credit for it," his
+father suggested.
+
+"They'd all be afraid to take it, if it went on any further. Imagine a
+respectable doctor admitting he'd made a man grow younger! I dare say
+they might be proud of such a performance in London, but they've more
+decency here!"
+
+It seemed characteristic of Mr. Walkingshaw's calamity that he should
+bounce up like a tennis ball after each well-meant effort to depress
+him.
+
+"In that case," said he cheerfully, "we'll just have to say I am trying
+to make myself more of a companion for you."
+
+Andrew started violently.
+
+"We'll say no such thing! Do you suppose _I'm_ going to have my name
+mixed up with it?"
+
+His father remained serene.
+
+"Well then, what do you suggest?"
+
+Andrew's cheeks drooped, carrying the corners of his mouth down with
+them.
+
+"There's no good in suggesting. You can trust your friends to do that
+for you. Pretty stories they'll be circulating!"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw regarded him with dignity, mingled with a trace of
+good-natured contempt for such a lack of spirit.
+
+"My dear Andrew," said he, "you need not be under the slightest
+apprehension. Whatever my external appearance may become--and I trust it
+will remain not altogether unpleasing--I shall see to it that my conduct
+rebuts any breath of scandal. I shall be, if possible, more circumspect,
+more scrupulously observant of the rules which should regulate the
+behavior of a man in my position, more discreet both in speech and
+conduct. The tongues of the libelous will be effectually silenced
+_then_."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw accompanied these excellent sentiments by gently
+swinging himself to and fro in his revolving chair and rolling a scrap
+of blotting-paper into a pellet, which, at the conclusion of his speech,
+he absent-mindedly discharged at the office clock. His son seemed as
+impressed by these movements as by his words.
+
+"You'll find it easier," he began bitterly, "to set people talking than
+to--"
+
+"When you come to think of it, the situation is not without decided
+advantages," his father interrupted, springing up and pacing the room
+with an animated air. "Just think of the renewed opportunities for doing
+all kinds of useful and beneficial things! I might take a more prominent
+part in public life: I might even go in for politics. I certainly shall
+take a bit of salmon-fishing. The study of some of our classical authors
+suggests itself as a relaxation for my leisure moments. The subjects of
+aeroplanes and national defense are worthy of consideration, too. I
+should like to visit several of the continental countries--our own
+colonies are even more attractive; there wouldn't be the same
+difficulties about the language. Or, by Jingo, Andrew, I might learn
+French and Italian! Yes, the position is not without its compensations."
+
+He stopped beside his son and laid his hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"I propose to widen greatly the scope of my energies, without in the
+least forfeiting the respect of my fellow-citizens. That is my ideal,
+Andrew. Ah, my boy, you and I will have some great times together! By
+that I mean, of course, some beneficial and profitable times."
+
+He took a sudden step forward and kicked the wastepaper-basket into the
+fireplace.
+
+"I might even take up football some day, if this goes on," he smiled,
+and then abruptly recovered his solemnity.
+
+"Beneficial and profitable," he repeated gravely. "Those are to be our
+watchwords. Will you have a weed?"
+
+The junior partner started out of the reverie into which he had fallen.
+
+"Are you going to start smoking _here_?" he cried.
+
+"Why the deuce shouldn't I? It's my own office. These old-fashioned
+ideas of yours about not smoking on business premises are getting out
+of date. Besides, it keeps the flies away. And now I must get on to my
+correspondence."
+
+With a cigar in the corner of his mouth and humming something resembling
+an air, the senior partner dashed into his day's work with the ardor of
+an egg-collector.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+In the meantime, the two least satisfactory members of the family were
+sadly enduring the consequences of their foolishness. To Frank and Jean
+the world seemed a very gray place at present; and even the daily
+increasing juvenility of their parent failed to enliven them. They were
+too engrossed in their own unhappiness to take much notice of it; and
+what they saw merely distressed them, for so far his beneficent projects
+had not included them. Frank moped about the house, consorted
+occasionally with an acquaintance, now and then went away for a day's
+golf, and at frequent intervals confided to Jean his disgust with the
+arrangements of the universe. Ellen Berstoun was to have paid them
+another visit, but for some reason she put it off; and at this decision
+he was plunged for forty-eight consecutive hours into a frenzy,
+alternately of relief and despair, which left him at last more
+lackadaisical than ever. A few days after his father's momentous
+interview with Andrew, he was roused to fresh anguish by the junior
+partner's departure to spend a week-end at Berstoun Castle, and his
+state of mind now became so unbearable that he abruptly announced to
+his sister--
+
+"I can't stick this any longer! I'm going up to town."
+
+"What for?" she asked.
+
+"For a bust," he answered desperately. "I'm going to try to--to--to
+forget."
+
+And the poor youth strode hurriedly out of the room to examine the state
+of his silk hat and his finances.
+
+Jean devoutly wished she too could fly to London! Like a dutiful girl,
+she had returned, at her father's peremptory bidding, two unopened
+letters received from that city. Frank knew his address and forwarded
+them for her. Once or twice after that he himself received a letter in a
+hand suspiciously resembling the writing on the unbroken envelopes, and
+it certainly was a fact that on each of these occasions the erring pair
+were closeted for long together, and that Jean's spirits rose a little
+for a few hours afterwards. But they soon sank again.
+
+After Frank had announced his desperate resolution she sat alone
+for some time in the drawing-room. Everybody else was out, and the
+house seemed prodigiously silent and vast. At last she heard a little
+noise, which presently took the form of footsteps bounding upstairs,
+accompanied by a cheerful tuneless whistling. The door was flung
+open, and her father entered.
+
+It was only at that moment that Jean realized he was a curiously altered
+man. He was dressed in brown tweeds and a light waistcoat; his face was
+flushed, and a smile danced in his eyes.
+
+"I've been for a bicycle ride," he announced.
+
+She could hardly believe her ears.
+
+"You--on a bicycle?" she gasped; for Mr. Walkingshaw had been born long
+before bicycles.
+
+"Yes; I've had a couple of lessons--only two, and I went for a six-mile
+ride all alone to-day!"
+
+"Then weren't you at the office?"
+
+"In the morning; but one gets no exercise in that beastly office. I need
+a lot nowadays."
+
+He threw himself into a chair and a smile broke over his face, in which,
+to her further bewilderment, she recognized an unmistakable flavor of
+roguishness.
+
+"Thinking of him?" he inquired.
+
+Poor Jean nearly jumped out of her chair.
+
+"Of--of whom?" she gasped.
+
+"The artist fellow, what's his name--Vernon."
+
+"Father!" she said in a low, pained voice.
+
+"Eh? What's the matter?"
+
+She looked at him between grief and amazement.
+
+"You said that his name was never to be mentioned. Do you mean to--why
+do you--what do you mean, father?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw was finding it harder every day to retain his old
+attitudes in all their dignity. He was altering at an astonishing pace.
+How many years younger he had become already he could not compute. He
+had tried once or twice to calculate about where he stood but the
+surprising thing was that he found he cared less and less what was
+happening, and how fast it happened. He enjoyed himself amazingly so
+long as he did not worry; and the obvious moral was--don't worry. At the
+same time, he had no intention whatsoever of forfeiting the respect of
+his fellow-citizens, still less of his family. It was true this proviso
+occurred to him more often after than before he had surprised them by
+some trifling deviation; still, when it did occur, it occurred forcibly.
+On this present occasion he suddenly became preternaturally solemn,
+coughed with a little dry, respectable sound, and replied severely--
+
+"I meant that it must never be mentioned by you, but--ahem--it
+is--ah--different with your father. I still leave myself at liberty
+to mention him with reprobation."
+
+Jean jumped up with a sparkling eye.
+
+"In that case I'll leave you. I've obeyed you so far, but I certainly
+shan't obey you if you tell me to sit and listen to _anything_ against
+him!"
+
+And she started for the door.
+
+"My dear girl!" cried Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+He jumped up too, caught her by the hand, and led her to the sofa.
+
+"Now, now," he said kindly; "sit down and tell me all about it."
+
+She looked at him in fresh amazement.
+
+"All about what?"
+
+He found it a little difficult to explain precisely what he meant. He
+only knew that he felt an unwonted expansion of his heart towards this
+really charming little daughter.
+
+"All about the weather and crops," he suggested playfully.
+
+Jean began to tremble a little.
+
+"I--I don't understand you at all," said she.
+
+He smiled pleasantly.
+
+"Am I such a very mysterious old fellow?"
+
+At this odd and novel mixture of kindness and queerness she felt her
+words choking her, as much with fear as anything.
+
+"We--we never have understood each other," she found herself saying.
+
+He looked startled.
+
+"What? You don't mean to say you--But I'm your father."
+
+"I suppose that's the reason."
+
+"I have always tried to do my duty."
+
+"The trouble is, you succeeded."
+
+"What!" he exclaimed. "Do you actually mean to say you--ah--didn't
+appreciate my duty?"
+
+She was sitting by his side on the sofa, her eyes downcast and her lips
+obstinately set. Never before in her life had she stood up to him like
+this, but now that she had begun she was discovering to her surprise
+that she had more of her father's temper than she had dreamt of.
+
+"No," she said. "I didn't sometimes."
+
+Instead of getting angry, Mr. Walkingshaw seemed merely astonished and
+interested.
+
+"Perhaps it was the way I did it," he suggested.
+
+She looked up quickly.
+
+"Yes," she answered.
+
+"Well, my dear, I have lately discovered that I shall never be too old
+to learn. Just tell me how you'd like to be treated, and I'll try to
+manage it. I am very fond of you, Jean."
+
+Her mouth lost its obstinacy; her eyes and voice grew kind.
+
+"Father dear, if only you'd show it! If only--"
+
+He interrupted her by a resounding kiss.
+
+"More that kind of way?" he smiled.
+
+For answer she threw her arms round him and gave him what he immediately
+decided to be the pleasantest hugging he had ever enjoyed. This was a
+method of doing his duty that must certainly be repeated; he had no
+doubts about that. It led to such surprising results, too. In a few
+minutes he found himself embarked upon the most charmingly confidential
+conversation.
+
+"It was a little rough on you," he confessed.
+
+"You mean--?" she hesitated.
+
+"Well, well, perhaps we'd better not allude to it again," he answered
+kindly.
+
+But apparently she had no intention at all of avoiding the subject.
+
+"Oh, yes," she said eagerly. "I'd like to talk about it with you now."
+
+It did not seem to occur to the W.S. that he might end by committing
+himself to some expression of sympathy he would repent of later.
+
+"Capital," he answered genially. "You still like the fellow, then?"
+
+"Like him!" she exclaimed. "Oh, father, I--I still love him."
+
+"I wish he'd brush his hair a little better and wear a respectable tie;
+still, he undoubtedly has some original ideas."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw found himself musing on the artist's outrageous opinions
+with a new catholicity. They had staggered him at the moment: they began
+to interest him now.
+
+"It's a pity he can't make a little more money," he added.
+
+"But I don't need a large income to be happy, father."
+
+"Eh?" said Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+This was going rather too fast; yet when he looked into her shining
+eyes, he found it really very difficult to keep severe.
+
+"Money is a very important thing, my dear," he replied.
+
+"It's not nearly so important as love! Surely, father, it's far, far
+better that two people should be very, very fond of each other than
+have plenty of money! You do agree with that, don't you?"
+
+It was at this moment that there came to the little advocate-for-love's
+assistance a recollection of the sympathetic widow. In his mind's eye
+Mr. Walkingshaw suddenly saw a vision of her black eyes vivaciously
+beaming, and for some reason this enabled him to regard Jean's point of
+view in a wholly new and original light.
+
+"Well," said he, "I'm not sure that there isn't something in what you
+say. I do believe you're right, my dear--in fact, I'm positive you're
+right. The love for a fine woman--well, it's a first-rate
+sensation--most refreshing."
+
+"For a woman?" asked Jean, a little surprised. "But we were talking
+about a man."
+
+There was no mirror available, but Mr. Walkingshaw had a strong
+suspicion that he must be blushing.
+
+"For a man--of course," he said hastily. "I meant for a man. But in a
+general way I think I may say that love's the thing for everybody! It's
+the thing for you and me anyhow, eh, Jean?"
+
+Jean felt as though she had scrubbed a lump of crystal and found it to
+be a diamond. How was it she had never before discovered these depths of
+affection and geniality below his awe-inspiring exterior? She had not
+scrubbed hard enough!
+
+"Yes, indeed!" said she. "Oh, I do understand you now. Father, I'm so
+happy! And you won't think too hardly of Mr. Vernon, will you?"
+
+"H'm," smiled her father. "That's a matter we might well take to
+avizandum, I think."
+
+For a daughter of a Writer to the Signet, Jean was woefully ignorant.
+She did not know what avizandum meant in the least. But she felt sure it
+was the name of one of the roads to happiness; and she hugged him again.
+
+It was in the midst of this embrace that Mrs. Donaldson entered. She
+had always esteemed the author of her own existence and her family's
+prosperity, but she had never hugged him; nor had he shown any evidence
+of desiring such an operation.
+
+"Good gracious, Jean!" she exclaimed.
+
+"We are arranging a bike ride," beamed her father.
+
+To complete the confusion of his more creditable daughter, this
+improbable announcement was accompanied by an unabashed wink, directed
+at his less creditable child apparently for the superfluous purpose of
+assuring her he jested.
+
+That evening Mr. Walkingshaw began to be discussed by his
+fellow-citizens in earnest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+"You're not drinking, Andrew," said Mr. Walkingshaw. "Go on, fill up
+your glass. Man, do you call that filling a glass? Here's the way."
+
+Leaning across the table, he poured in the port till it stood above the
+rim, with the steady hand of a man of forty. He was hardly as young as
+that yet, but he was amazingly rejuvenated. It could not possibly last,
+Andrew said to himself; still, he felt dreadfully uncomfortable.
+
+"You seem very anxious I should drink," he said gloomily, looking
+askance at his brimming glass.
+
+"You're so dull, my boy," his father answered genially. "There's no life
+in you at all. You for a lover! You ought to have come back looking
+happy. One would think she'd broken it off."
+
+It was the evening of the same day. Andrew had returned from his visit
+to the Berstouns shortly after Mrs. Donaldson departed, and as Frank was
+dining out, he and his father sat alone together over their wine.
+
+"I've no reason to feel particularly happy," he said.
+
+"Eh?" cried his father. "Nothing gone wrong, is there?"
+
+"I don't understand these women."
+
+"No," said Mr. Walkingshaw, with jovial candor, "you'd be a bit of a
+stick with the sex, I can well imagine. You haven't the cut of a ladies'
+man: but it's all a matter of practice, my boy; just a matter of
+learning experience as you go along. What did she say to you?"
+
+Andrew was divided in mind. This tone exasperated him beyond measure. He
+felt inclined to leave the room. Yet, on the other hand, he judged
+himself ill-used by his betrothed, and when he had any ground of
+grievance, he had the pleasant habit of venting his complaints as long
+as his audience would listen to him. To-night the habit proved even
+stronger than his distaste for his high-spirited parent.
+
+"She was queer," said he.
+
+"They're all that," replied Mr. Walkingshaw knowingly. "The great thing
+is not to mind what they say. It's what they do that counts: and she'd
+be affectionate, I suppose, eh?"
+
+"I've never gone in for much of your spooning and kissing and that sort
+of thing," began Andrew.
+
+"The more fool you!" interrupted his parent. "What do you think a girl
+gets engaged for if it isn't to be cuddled?"
+
+He surprised himself by his own acumen. The late Mrs. W. had not been in
+the least that sort of lady, and he had never been engaged to anybody
+else; yet here he was laying down the law with the serenest confidence.
+Some divine instinct must be inspiring him. His son seemed less
+favorably impressed with his sagacity.
+
+"Ellen's not that sort of girl," said he.
+
+"My dear fellow, they're all that sort. At least, that's my view of the
+matter. Well, what's gone wrong?"
+
+"I don't know," said Andrew sourly. "I can't make her out. She's
+different somehow. It was almost as though she wasn't so fond of me."
+
+"Are you sure you've done nothing to annoy her? They're very touchy, you
+know."
+
+"I haven't done a thing to annoy her. I can swear to _that_."
+
+"Then," said Mr. Walkingshaw, with inspired conviction, "there's some
+other fellow cutting you out."
+
+Andrew started.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know all her neighbors. It's nobody she's met here, I
+suppose."
+
+"She never saw a man when she was here but Frank and me."
+
+"Then it's some one in Perthshire," pronounced Mr. Walkingshaw,
+emphatically but cheerfully.
+
+Andrew frowned at his still brimming glass. He trusted that he did not
+overvalue himself; at the same time, the idea of another being preferred
+by a girl who had once enjoyed the privilege of being engaged to Andrew
+Walkingshaw struck him as far-fetched.
+
+"I don't think it's another man," he said.
+
+"It's my opinion it is, Andrew; and I'm not wanting to lose so nice a
+daughter-in-law, so you've got to see that she doesn't turn round
+altogether. You've got to go in and win; make sure of her, my boy!"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw grew more and more animated and his son more and more
+distressed. He was behaving so unlike the senior partner in Walkingshaw
+& Gilliflower.
+
+"What are you wanting me to do?"
+
+"Behave less like a damned umbrella," pronounced Mr. Walkingshaw, with
+a startling lapse into epigram.
+
+Andrew stared.
+
+"Oh?" said he.
+
+"Be lively, and--er--amorous, and--ah--sparkling; that's the sort of
+thing. Go in for a few new ties and waistcoats. Socks, too, are things
+that the young men display considerable enterprise in. I was tempted
+myself this afternoon by a shop window full of really remarkably chaste
+hosiery--pale green with stripes! you'd look first class in them. I came
+to the conclusion at last that perhaps I was hardly young enough for
+them yet; but I invested in half a dozen ties of quite a tasty design."
+
+"_You_ bought half a dozen ties!" exclaimed Andrew.
+
+"I did; and you're welcome to any of them you like. Or will you come
+with me and we'll choose something?"
+
+"Thank you," replied his son sardonically; "but on the whole I'd sooner
+trust to nature."
+
+"In that case, Heaven help you, my poor boy! You have your good points,
+but beauty's not among them. Imagine you as a statue, Andrew! Eh?"
+
+The worthy gentleman laughed genially, but the unhappy lover did not
+join in his mirth.
+
+"I am glad I amuse you," he said, and rose to leave the table.
+
+"Sit down, sit down, man," his father commanded; "I haven't half
+finished with you yet. Have you read any poetry to her?"
+
+"I have not."
+
+"Well, read some; try a bit of--er--I'm not so well up in the poets as I
+hope to be soon, but I fancy Byron has written some very stimulating
+verses; or why go over the border for them--why not try her with Burns?
+What's finer than--
+
+     "'Had we never loved sae kindly,
+     Had we--um--um--sae blindly,
+     Never--something--um--um--parted,
+     We should--something about being broken-hearted?'"
+
+"It's very sentimental, I've no doubt," answered the junior partner, in
+a tone which implied that he was uttering the last word in caustic
+criticism.
+
+But his father merely grew the more enthusiastic.
+
+"And what else have you got to be but sentimental? My dear boy, my eyes
+have been opened this very afternoon. I've never been sentimental
+enough with my children; and what's the consequence? Here's you letting
+a pretty girl slip through your fingers because you don't let yourself
+loose on her! Now what you ought to say to her is something like this:
+'My own darling--or sweetheart--or even duckie,'--use some popular
+symbol, as it were, of affection,--'I am so passionately'--or fervently,
+if you like--let us say, 'so fervently in love with you that I can't
+hold out'--or perhaps you might find a better word than that; you want
+to inflame the lassie without startling her. 'I can't endure'--that's a
+better word--'I can't endure for another month. Marry me four weeks from
+to-day!' And there you have the whole thing done."
+
+Andrew had remained standing beside the table.
+
+"Is that all now?" he inquired.
+
+His father regarded him with a fine jovial scorn, much as Sir John
+Falstaff might have regarded the inventor of lemonade.
+
+"I doubt you're a hopeless case," said he. "There's ginger enough in an
+ordinary policeman to make three of you. But I'm not going to let you
+lose Ellen Berstoun if I can help it. Run away now and complain to your
+auntie."
+
+In pointed silence Andrew availed himself of this permission, while his
+father remained to light a cigar and meditate upon the disadvantages of
+unalloyed respectability. A fine example in many ways Andrew undoubtedly
+was, just as he trusted he had been himself; but he showed up poorly
+when it came to love-making. He was too old for his age; that was the
+trouble with Andrew. Now that he came to think of it, there was
+something uncompanionable in elderly people. It was surprising he had
+not noticed it before, but lately it had occurred to him forcibly. A
+brisk young fellow like Frank, a pretty girl like Jean--one felt more in
+touch with them. Perhaps they were a trifle on the juvenile side: the
+choicest, the most sympathetic period of life was undoubtedly that
+attained by--Mr. Walkingshaw jumped up, laid down his cigar, and started
+for the drawing-room. What a fine woman Madge was!
+
+He spent a delightful hour in the ladies' society. The obliging widow
+was easily prevailed upon to gratify a passion he had lately developed
+for tuneful and romantic melody, and she thrummed through five waltzes
+and the whole of two comic operas, while he sat on the sofa holding
+Jean's hand and exchanging confidential smiles. Jean was in the seventh
+heaven of happiness; the widow enthusiastically approved of the
+symptoms; and the only critic present appeared to be his exemplary
+sister. She listened to the concert with a bleak face, and regarded the
+dalliance on the sofa out of a troubled and uncomprehending eye.
+
+Aglow with sentiments, which from being mere amorphous ecstasies were
+rapidly developing into shapely visions of black eyes and well-nourished
+contours, Mr. Walkingshaw bade good-night to the ladies and settled
+himself comfortably in his easy-chair before a friendly fire and in
+company with a fragrant pipe. How delicious his tobacco tasted!
+Evidently this last tin must be of a superior quality. He resolved that
+he should insist on being supplied with the same high-class variety in
+future.
+
+At this point his pleasant reverie was interrupted by the entrance of
+Frank, just returned from dining with a friend. His father greeted him
+genially.
+
+"Well, my boy, help yourself to a drink and light your pipe."
+
+Frank glanced at him suspiciously. He had never before been encouraged
+either to drink or to smoke; indeed, he had more than once complained
+that his father seemed to forget he was now a grown-up man. What his
+sudden cordiality meant he could not divine; but on general principles
+he feared it. This did not prevent him from accepting both overtures
+and sitting down on the other side of the fire. Mr. Walkingshaw asked
+him a few questions about how he had spent the evening, always with the
+same friendly air, till the young soldier began to suspect he had
+negotiated some peculiarly fortunate business transaction. He became
+emboldened to approach what he feared might prove a delicate subject.
+
+"I'm thinking of running up to London for a week or two," he began.
+
+"An excellent idea," said his parent. "It must be rather slow for you
+here."
+
+Frank got more and more encouraged.
+
+"The only trouble is, I find myself rather short of funds."
+
+"How much do you want?"
+
+The going was too smooth to last, thought Frank. He became cautious.
+
+"Oh, a tenner or so, I suppose," he suggested.
+
+"A tenner!" exclaimed his father.
+
+"Say a fiver, then," said Frank hurriedly.
+
+"A fiver for a week or two in London? My dear boy, you don't know how to
+do the thing at all. Your return ticket will cost you over three pounds;
+supposing one averages your dinners at ten shillings a night for a
+fortnight--that's seven pounds more; suppers, even if you supped alone"
+(here he winked upon his startled offspring), "will run you at least as
+much. Put railway and grub at thirty pounds--just to be safe. Then
+you'll be going to theaters and music-halls, and taking cabs, and having
+a week-end at Brighton--and the Lord knows what else. My hat, it will be
+a spree!"
+
+With sparkling eyes and a beaming smile he leant forward in his chair
+and tapped his son upon the knee.
+
+"I'll come with you, Frank."
+
+"You!" gasped the poor youth.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Walkingshaw, apparently more to himself than to Frank,
+"that's the way to set about it!"
+
+He beamed upon his son confidentially.
+
+"I've got a splendid idea, and you're just the very chap to help me. I
+won't spoil sport, my boy, but I'll travel up with you--and, by Jove, we
+might stop at the same hotel, if that wouldn't embarrass you. Would it?"
+
+"N--no," said Frank, "n--not at all."
+
+"Just what we were needing--a little blow-out in London, eh?"
+
+Frank gave a little nervous laugh.
+
+"Do you really mean it?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw was now standing in front of the fire, alternately
+rising on tiptoe and thumping down on his heels.
+
+"Don't I just! When shall we start--to-morrow morning?"
+
+"To-morrow! But I haven't done any packing."
+
+"Well, no more have I. We'll just chuck in a few things and buy anything
+else we want in London. I need practically a new outfit myself. Can you
+introduce me to a good tailor?"
+
+"Ye--es," stammered Frank.
+
+"That's all settled, then."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw began to laugh mysteriously.
+
+"I'd like to see Andrew's face when he learns I've gone!"
+
+"But aren't you going to tell him?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw's voice sank.
+
+"Not a word to any of them, Frank! You put my things into your cab
+without any one noticing; I'll say I'm going to the office; and we'll
+meet at the station. I don't want to get talked about, you see."
+
+It was reassuring to find that Mr. Walkingshaw still valued his
+reputation, even though the measures he took to preserve it were not
+excessively convincing.
+
+"All right, then," said Frank; "I'd better go and pack now. Good-night."
+
+"Good-night, my boy," his father answered fervently. "God bless you!"
+
+The Cromarty Highlander had been through some nerve-testing experiences,
+but, as he went to his room, he realized that the severest ordeals often
+occur in civil life.
+
+Meanwhile, his parent at a leisurely pace was following him upstairs
+when he perceived a light still burning in the drawing-room. He gently
+pushed the door open, and a smile of peculiar pleasure irradiated his
+rosy face. There, busy at the writing-table and quite alone, sat the
+sympathetic widow. He remembered how prettily she had answered a simple
+interjection once before.
+
+"Hullo!" he warbled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+The widow started and turned in her chair. This time she did not archly
+cap his greeting. Instead, her exclamation had a tincture of alarm. He
+was so very unlike his usual self.
+
+"Writing a billet-doux?" he inquired, still smiling.
+
+He softly closed the door behind him, and approached her with a kind of
+jaunty, springy gait that increased her perplexity. She loved to see him
+lively, but this smirking manner was really almost peculiar.
+
+"May I sit at your feet, Madge?" he asked, and without waiting for an
+answer, drew up a footstool and planted himself so close to her knees
+that the sense of propriety felt by all fine women with any experience
+of life impelled her to withdraw them some three inches farther from his
+shoulder. At the same time she bent her head a very little forward and
+gently drew in her breath. The late Captain Dunbar had possessed in
+addition to the virtues of a dashing temperament, certain of its
+failings, and her cousin's demeanor decidedly reminded her of his
+conduct after particularly convivial evenings at the mess. But the test
+was reassuring. Her nose was keen, and she noticed nothing--absolutely
+nothing.
+
+"What a beastly big barn of a room this is," he began.
+
+She was at a loss quite what to answer. Could he mean this: he who
+prided himself on the becoming stateliness of his house?
+
+"Oh, I think it is a very fine and--and--impressive room, Heriot," she
+answered guardedly.
+
+"It's too big and gloomy for a widower. It makes one feel kind of
+lonely."
+
+The widow smiled sweetly. She quite understood what he meant now. The
+reminiscence of the late Captain Dunbar faded away, and once more she
+was sympathy itself.
+
+"Are you often lonely?" she inquired softly.
+
+He looked up into her face with a curious hint of boyishness in his
+face.
+
+"Not while you are here, Madge."
+
+Again a species of divine instinct possessed Mr. Walkingshaw. Without
+permission asked or given, he took his fair cousin's hand and gently
+held it. At the same time a longing to be confidential invaded him. He
+had a really prime secret to share with her.
+
+"I am going up to London to-morrow morning!" he announced.
+
+It did not surprise her that business should take him up to town; it did
+that his eyes should twinkle at the prospect. She began to feel a trifle
+less sympathetic.
+
+"Oh," she said, "why are you going?"
+
+For a moment he hesitated. Could he venture to confide in her? The young
+and amorous Heriot said, "Of course! Such a divinity will be all
+sympathy." But the senior partner in Walkingshaw & Gilliflower
+emphatically retorted. "Never tell a woman what you don't want the whole
+town to know!" He was still old enough to obey the more prudent
+counselor.
+
+"I'm going to see my old friend Colonel Munro."
+
+Decidedly Mr. Walkingshaw was fast acquiring that quick adaptation to
+circumstances which is the hall-mark of youth. He had not thought of his
+old friend Charlie Munro for the last year or more, and here he was
+coming in most usefully just when he was wanted. Heriot recognized with
+a touch of awe his own unwonted fertility.
+
+"Don't tell any one!" he added, and then immediately realized that at
+the same time he must be losing a little of that valuable discretion
+which had characterized the head of Walkingshaw & Gilliflower.
+
+"My dear Heriot, this sounds suspicious."
+
+He realized now the penalties for indiscretion.
+
+"I am going to see him on particularly private business. We do not wish
+it to get talked about."
+
+He thought he had recovered his old manner to a nicety, but what was his
+surprise when his cousin shook a well-manicured finger in his face, and
+cried--
+
+"What a naughty boy you are getting! I wonder whether I ought to tell on
+you or not?"
+
+This time he tried another of his ingenuous smiles.
+
+"_You_ wouldn't tell on me, Madge!"
+
+"Oh, indeed! Why should I care about your reputation?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw deliberately faced the situation. He had not meant to
+commit himself that evening--not, in fact, till he had enjoyed an
+untrammeled week in town; but he had placed his reputation in this
+charming lady's hands, and he realized he must obtain a receipt for it.
+
+"Don't you care about me?" he inquired tenderly.
+
+"What--what do you mean, Heriot?" she faltered.
+
+"You are everything to me," he answered, and looking into her black
+eyes, inwardly decided that this expressed very little more than the
+precise truth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a very few minutes after this that he found himself seated very
+close to the sympathetic widow's side, with one arm encircling a
+considerable segment of what had been a remarkably trim waist, and the
+other hand toying with a collection of ruby and amethyst rings.
+
+"I do hope I shan't disappoint you, Heriot," she murmured.
+
+"No fear of that, my dear," said he, pinching one of her plump fingers.
+
+"It will be rather a Darby and Joan marriage, of course," she smiled.
+
+"Will it?" replied Heriot, with a glint out of the corner of his eye
+that reminded her forcibly of the late Captain Dunbar.
+
+"Oh, Heriot!" she expostulated. "Remember you're the father of a
+grown-up family."
+
+"Well," he replied, with amorous facetiousness, "what man has done, man
+can do."
+
+The lady endeavored gently to withdraw her hand, but he held it firmly.
+
+"Will it be a long engagement?" she asked, with a colder smile.
+
+"By Jove, not very!" he whispered riotously.
+
+She felt like one of those intelligent persons who pull the triggers of
+supposititiously unloaded guns. By a supreme effort she mastered her
+emotion and remarked--
+
+"I wonder what your family will say."
+
+He kissed her demonstratively and cried--
+
+"My family be hanged! I'm not going to tell them yet."
+
+"When will you?" she asked, disengaging herself with a difficulty that
+impressed her still further.
+
+"Time enough when I get back from London."
+
+The widow was not altogether unsophisticated. This blend of abandonment
+and secrecy impressed her unfavorably. She had known of more than one
+ballroom proposal where the gentleman was just sufficiently master of
+his emotions to stipulate for silence till he had departed on a
+twelvemonth's furlough.
+
+"How soon are you coming back?" she inquired.
+
+"Week or two," he answered airily.
+
+"A week or two to see Colonel Munro!"
+
+"Intricate business," he answered her, with a fresh salute.
+
+"Poor old Charles Munro is a kind of relation of mine," she observed.
+
+He eyed her with more surprise than passion.
+
+"Oh! I didn't know that."
+
+"I haven't written to him for years. I think I must send him a letter
+this week."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw realized that he was marrying brains as well as beauty.
+He also realized that Colonel Munro was now part of his London
+programme. However, on second thoughts, Charlie Munro was a dear old
+fellow, and very likely he'd have been looking him up in any case. His
+spirits bounded up again. In fact, why should they ever sink with such a
+fair creature by his side?
+
+"Do, darling," he whispered.
+
+She surrendered herself to his affection and sighed happily. Why should
+she feel disturbed with one of the most respectable of Writers to the
+Signet pledged to devote his declining years to her consolation?
+
+"I trust you, Heriot," she murmured.
+
+"My little duck!" he answered tenderly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At twelve o'clock next morning the London express thundered on to the
+bridge across the Solway. Mr. Walkingshaw looked up at his son.
+
+"We're out of Scotland now," he said, with a sigh of reminiscent ardor.
+"Home and beauty are far behind us, Frank."
+
+Then in a different key he added--
+
+"It is curious that my spirits should keep rising."
+
+From which it appeared that he had grown young enough to realize that
+though lunch may be over, there is always dinner to look forward to.
+
+
+
+
+PART III
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Colonel Munro drew the ends of his white tie through the loop in the
+middle with infinite care. In a very wide circle of acquaintances he was
+universally known as "Charlie" Munro; and you had only to look at him to
+see how appropriate was this gallant diminutive. His head was bald at
+the top, but cleanly and beautifully bald, like a head of the finest
+marble; on either side and behind, his hair was both white and curly;
+his eye was bright, his features remarkably handsome, his mustache a
+slender ornament of silver, and his figure tall and slender. At
+sixty-three he was probably handsomer than he had ever been before in
+his life; and that was saying a great deal. He lived in very pleasant
+bachelor chambers in St. James' under the charge of a competent valet.
+
+"Let me see that card again," he said, as he gave his tie those little
+finishing touches that converted it from an elegant accessory into a
+work of art.
+
+The valet went to his sitting-room and returned with a calling card on
+a tray. Colonel Munro studied it a trifle lugubriously.
+
+"James Heriot Walkingshaw," he read, with this addendum in pencil,
+"Shall call for you 7:30. Count on your company at dinner."
+
+The Colonel buttoned his white waistcoat.
+
+"Didn't you tell Mr. Walkingshaw that I would probably be engaged?" he
+asked.
+
+"Well, sir," said the valet smoothly, "the gentleman seemed such an old
+friend of yours, I thought perhaps you wouldn't like to miss him."
+
+"One's oldest friends are sometimes d----d nuisances, Forman."
+
+The Colonel saw the pleasant evening he had contemplated spending in the
+society of two or three of the gayest old bloods in London darkening
+into a _tête-à-tête_ with Mr. Walkingshaw at his portentously
+respectable club, and regretted he had allowed Forman to lay out a clean
+white waistcoat; for he was, by force of circumstances, economical as
+well as gallant.
+
+"I tell you what," said he, "I don't mean to wait a minute after 7:30.
+If he turns up late, you can make my apologies, and say I'll be happy to
+lunch with him to-morrow."
+
+He put on his coat, added an overcoat and white scarf, cocked his opera
+hat on his shapely old head, and sat confronting his sitting-room clock.
+At 7:29 he rose briskly, and then with a sigh sank back into his chair.
+He heard a footstep on the stair.
+
+"Mr. Walkingshaw," announced the valet.
+
+The Colonel advanced with that courteous smile for which he was
+renowned.
+
+"My dear Charlie!" cried his visitor.
+
+"Well, Heriot," smiled the Colonel, looking a little surprised at the
+remarkable joviality of this greeting.
+
+He surveyed his old friend up and down, and seemed still more surprised.
+
+"What a buck you are!" he exclaimed.
+
+In truth, Mr. Walkingshaw, arrayed in a new opera hat, a new and shining
+pair of dress boots, and a fashionable new overcoat, cut a very
+different figure from the sedate W.S. of the Colonel's previous
+acquaintance.
+
+Heriot looked a trifle self-conscious.
+
+"I hope I haven't overdone the thing," said he.
+
+"Not a bit," smiled the Colonel, as a bright inspiration struck him.
+"The only criticism I'd make is that you are really thrown away on the
+members of your very sedate club, Heriot."
+
+"Oh, but I didn't mean to dine you at my club."
+
+Colonel Munro opened his eyes and smiled again.
+
+"Where do you propose?"
+
+"Well, I thought perhaps you might advise me."
+
+"Let me see," mused Charlie, with a pleasant air.
+
+"What about the Carlton?"
+
+"First-rate, if you care to run to that."
+
+"I've booked a table there on spec," said Heriot.
+
+The Colonel beamed.
+
+"I say, you're coming out, Heriot. Blowing the expense this time, what?"
+
+"I don't care what I spend!" replied his old friend, in a burst of
+confidence.
+
+"Then let's start," said the Colonel. "Like to take a cab?"
+
+"I've got one waiting."
+
+"After you," said Charlie, holding the door open.
+
+He was struck by the agility with which his old friend descended the
+stairs, and smiled afresh at the increasing possibilities of the
+situation.
+
+"I say, this is very pleasant," beamed Mr. Walkingshaw as they jingled
+off in a hansom.
+
+Rather bashfully he took from his overcoat pocket a pair of dazzling
+white kid gloves.
+
+"These are the proper things in the evening, aren't they?" he inquired.
+"I notice you've got on a pair."
+
+His guest chuckled.
+
+"They'll do to dance in afterwards if we go on to Covent Garden," he
+laughed, and then added waggishly, "How would you like to go to a fancy
+dress ball, Heriot?"
+
+"Is there one on to-night?" asked Heriot.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Are you going?"
+
+"Oh, I've given up that sort of thing years ago; but of course, if
+you're keen to go, I might stretch a point."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw looked at him doubtfully out of the corner of his eye
+and answered nothing.
+
+A little later the two old friends had grown more merrily confidential
+than they had been since the days of their youth. Charlie Munro was a
+little puzzled by the subtle alteration in his host, but he was not in
+the least disposed to criticize it. He felt more and more inclined to
+tempt him into a further display of frivolity.
+
+"Well, now, what about the Covent Garden ball?" he suggested.
+
+Heriot's eyes grew bright, but his mouth pursed cautiously.
+
+"Aren't they rather--er--fast?" he inquired.
+
+"As fast as you choose to make 'em."
+
+"But aren't the ladies rather--er--rather--well--"
+
+"Not a bit," said the Colonel. "There's a mixture, that's all."
+
+"But I say, Charlie, what about being seen by any one we know?"
+
+"We'll get a disguise for you," smiled Charlie.
+
+"Really, can you?"
+
+"Oh, I'll see to that."
+
+He began to picture a very amusing evening with his old friend Heriot.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw drank off his glass of champagne.
+
+"Well, if you're game--" said he.
+
+"I'm game for anything, my dear fellow, so long as I've you by my side,"
+laughed Charlie. "When you're tired, I'll promise to take you away.
+Shall we call it arranged?"
+
+"I'll risk it," said Heriot stoutly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+Round came the big man in the purple domino and the long false nose,
+hopping blithely to the crashing waltz, his arm encircling the waist of
+a little lady attired to represent a hot cross-bun. Then he was lost in
+the crowd, and the Colonel's eyes, in which for a moment a spark of
+wonder had burned, grew old and tired again. As he stood there alone,
+with youth and recklessness gamboling before him, he realized somberly
+that for him this revel was ended. How he would have enjoyed it once!
+But never, never again. His straight, soldierly back bent with
+weariness; he jerked back his shoulders, but they slipped forward,
+forward, and he let them stay. How little the fair faces interested him;
+how stupidly riotous these young fellows were!
+
+Round came the false nose again, and this time the empurpled figure
+unclasped one hand of the hot cross-bun and waved a genial greeting as
+they stampeded by. And again a gleam, almost of fear, lit the Colonel's
+weary eyes. It was horrible, grotesque, inhuman, to see the friend of
+his youth, a man older than himself, the honored head of a respectable
+firm, the father of five grown-up children, going on like this. The
+Colonel had thought it would be funny, but as hour succeeded hour, and
+the ringleader of the frolic gradually became a wearied spectator, this
+superhuman display of high-spirited energy grew long past a joke.
+Charlie had never been austere, but there were limits to all things.
+Good Gad, there were limits! If the man had got drunk or grown vicious,
+he might have excused him. But to see him interminably bounding round
+that floor behind six inches of pasteboard nose! He began to move away.
+He could stand the spectacle no longer.
+
+Again the false nose hopped by, and this time disengaged himself
+hurriedly from his partner and hastened after the retiring Colonel.
+
+"You're not going, Charlie?" he cried.
+
+His friend turned and stared at him piteously.
+
+"For Heaven's sake, take off that nose, Heriot!"
+
+The W.S. removed it with a laugh.
+
+"Put it on yourself, Charlie, and have a turn with my partner," he
+urged. "She dances really magnificently, you know."
+
+Colonel Munro laid his hand beseechingly upon his arm.
+
+"Come home, Heriot! You'll be devilish sorry for this to-morrow, as it
+is; and if you dance any more, by Gad, you may kill yourself! My dear
+fellow, think of your age."
+
+Heriot received this objection with a cheerful laugh.
+
+"You're not going yourself, surely?" he inquired.
+
+"I am."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw looked at him anxiously.
+
+"I say, you do look tired, Charlie. How's that?"
+
+"I am sixty-three," replied the Colonel, with an instinctive lowering of
+his voice. He never stated his age if he could help it.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw continued to gaze at him oddly.
+
+"I had forgotten how one feels at that time of life," he said musingly,
+"quite forgotten. Poor old Charlie; I oughtn't to have kept you up so
+late. I'd have felt like that at sixty-three myself. Well, my dear
+fellow, I'm glad we were able to have this night together before it
+became too late. It has made me feel quite old again to see you."
+
+Colonel Munro seized his arm and drew him towards the door, with all the
+vehemence of which he was capable.
+
+"Come along--come along, Heriot!" he implored him; "you have had a
+little more to drink than you quite realize!"
+
+Heriot disengaged himself very easily from his trembling grip.
+
+"My poor old boy," he smiled, "I'm as sober as you were when you
+started! I positively require the exercise. Besides, you must remember
+that this sort of thing is only just beginning for me; don't grudge me
+my fling. Get you to bed as quick as you can, Charlie. Sleep is what
+you're needing."
+
+"And do you know what you need?" exclaimed the Colonel, with another
+grab at his sleeve.
+
+"A taste of life!" cried Heriot, evading his old fingers with wonderful
+agility, and slipping on his pasteboard nose.
+
+He waved a gay farewell, threw his arm round the waist of the hot
+cross-bun, and waltzed out of the Colonel's vision.
+
+It was not till two hours later that Heriot Walkingshaw, smiling with
+reminiscent pleasure and perspiring freely, set out on foot for his
+hotel. A brisk walk in the early morning air was the only pick-me-up
+_he_ needed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+During their descent upon the Metropolis of England, Mr. Walkingshaw and
+his son were residing at the Hotel Gigantique, that stately new pile in
+Piccadilly, so styled, it is understood, from the bills presented when
+you leave. On the morning after his evening spent with Charlie Munro,
+they met as usual at breakfast. Fortunately, the state of Mr.
+Walkingshaw's health did not in the least seem to justify the
+forebodings of his friend. On the contrary, he tackled a fried sole with
+confidence, even with ardor, and put a great deal of cream into his
+coffee.
+
+"What were you about last night?" he inquired genially.
+
+"I dined with one or two fellows at the Rag," said Frank.
+
+"Doesn't sound very lively," observed his father, "that's to say, at
+your age," he hastened to add; for he still believed in retaining the
+confidence of his children.
+
+Frank smiled dreamily. This "bust" in town was proving less solacing
+than he had hoped. Now that he had got here, he found himself too
+lovelorn to bust with any relish. At the same time, it was pleasant and
+soothing to enjoy each day the society of so charming a parent. Any
+disquietude he felt at the singular nature of the change had been
+allayed by one of his friends, an R.A.M.C. man, who assured him that a
+serious illness at his father's time of life was not infrequently
+followed by a marked rejuvenation of the patient; so that he was able to
+regard with unqualified gratitude the generosity and kindness of the
+truant Writer to the Signet.
+
+"What were you doing yourself?" he inquired presently.
+
+"Dining with Colonel Munro," replied his father, truthfully if a trifle
+meagerly.
+
+He sipped his coffee, and then remarked--
+
+"Poor Charlie Munro is growing old, I'm afraid. He knocks up very
+easily."
+
+He sighed and added, "It's a melancholy thing, Frank, my boy, to see
+one's old friends slipping away from one."
+
+"What! Is he seriously ill?" asked Frank.
+
+"Oh, I don't mean that. I mean--well, everything has its compensating
+disadvantages. Mine is that my contemporaries are outgrowing me.
+Charlie and I started the evening in capital style; he was up to
+anything, and I was on for anything. But by the end of the night we were
+quite out of sympathy. The fact is, he is still in the sixties. However,
+my duty has been done; I've seen him, and that's over."
+
+He helped himself to some more fish, and continued with animation--
+
+"Now I can carry out my idea! I may or may not set about it the right
+way, but I do want to make you all happy Frank."
+
+It was perhaps well for his continued equanimity that during the first
+part of this speech Frank was lost in contemplation of a singularly
+vivid image of Ellen Berstoun. She had a distracting habit of appearing
+like that to the young soldier, of which he was unable to cure her. He
+started out of his reverie with the last words.
+
+"My dear father, you're the best sportsman I know," he replied warmly.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw looked highly gratified at this compliment.
+
+"That's what I'm aiming at," he answered.
+
+He leaned over the table and continued confidentially--
+
+"Of course you are happy, Frank. There's really nothing Providence could
+do for you except put a little money in your pocket, and give you a good
+time--eh?"
+
+"Oh--er--nothing."
+
+"What's the matter? That doesn't sound very cheerful."
+
+"I assure you I'm as cheerful as--er--er--anything," said Frank
+heroically.
+
+"I was sure of it. But poor Jean--she's got her troubles, eh, Frank?"
+
+Frank warmed up at his sister's name.
+
+"She has," he admitted.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw thoughtfully piled several slices of bacon on his plate.
+It would have reassured Colonel Munro greatly to have seen him.
+
+"I wish I was sure that Vernon was good enough for her."
+
+Frank looked up quickly.
+
+"I don't think anybody is quite good enough for Jean; but Lucas Vernon
+is really a deuced fine fellow."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw still seemed doubtful.
+
+"A bit lazy, I'm afraid."
+
+"I assure you he's not," said Frank. "He works, sir, like the very
+dickens."
+
+"He can't sell his pictures," replied his father. "I'll never believe in
+an artist till he can sell what he paints."
+
+"The difficulty for a painter is to get hold of the right man--the
+fellow with the money," urged Frank.
+
+"That's a mere matter of time," said his father; "they are sure to meet
+sooner or later, and then the point is, has he painted anything worth
+selling? If Vernon can manage to prove that, I may begin to believe in
+him. If he's a fraud it is time the thing was stopped for Jean's sake."
+
+He looked much more like the old Heriot Walkingshaw than he had for some
+weeks. Then he smiled, though still with an exceedingly shrewd air.
+
+"Well," he concluded, "we'll see."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+There is a by-street which opens out of the King's Road, Chelsea, and
+for a short distance pursues a course as respectable as the early career
+of Mr. Walkingshaw. Then, not unlike that gentleman, it diverges at
+right angles; and having once begun, goes on doubling for the remainder
+of its existence, shedding, as it gets round each corner, the more
+orthodox houses that once bore it company, till at last it becomes a
+mere devious lane, the haunt of low eccentric buildings; in places,
+owing to a casual tree or two, positively shady. The eccentric
+buildings, one is not greatly surprised to hear, are nothing more
+decorous than the studios of Bohemian painters. Such are the dangers of
+deviating from a straight and adequately lamp-lit route.
+
+In one of these studios a young man fiercely painted. His powerful,
+loosely clad figure stepped nervously back and forward, his brush
+now poised trembling in the air, now dabbing and swishing on the
+long-suffering canvas. His mop of brown hair had started the day brushed
+back and comparatively sleek; it was now a mere tousel. His butterfly
+tie had been a thing of some esthetic pretensions; it was become a
+tangle of silk. His smile had been bland and his manner courteous; he
+now resembled a buffalo with a bullet in it.
+
+"The beastly thing won't come right!" he roared.
+
+Another young man reclined upon a deck-chair in company with three
+cushions. His appearance was equally artistic, but he seemed less
+strenuous. He was pale, slim, rather pretty than handsome, and
+engagingly polite.
+
+"Cheer up, dear old fellow," he suggested.
+
+"Damn!" muttered Lucas.
+
+He toiled in agitated silence for some minutes, and then burst out
+again.
+
+"No one will ever exhibit the thing; no one will ever look twice at it;
+there's not a fool big enough in England to buy it! And it's all but the
+best bit of work I've ever done."
+
+"That 'all but' lets you down, I suppose," observed the other gently.
+
+"One could fill a lunatic asylum with you alone," replied the painter.
+"Why don't you go off and do some work instead of exhibiting your
+incompetence here?"
+
+"I told you I'd a headache," said the young man in the chair languidly.
+
+"What the devil's in your head to ache beats me," declared Lucas,
+accompanying this unkind speech by a brutal onslaught on the canvas.
+
+"Dear Lucas!" smiled his friend. "You seem to have come under some
+softening influence lately. Can you be in love?"
+
+The painter turned and confronted him with a less furious air.
+
+"You know I am," he replied, and strode to the end of the studio and
+back, while the other contemplated him in pitying silence.
+
+"I feel a fraud, Hillary," he resumed.
+
+"So long as you aren't found out--" began Hillary.
+
+"I have found myself out," retorted Lucas. "I boasted I could make an
+income for her--and look at this daub!"
+
+"The public likes daubs."
+
+"If they know the signature; yes, by all means. But who knows mine?"
+
+"Some Jews are great picture-buyers," suggested Hillary.
+
+An answering gleam lit Lucas's eye for an instant, and then burned out.
+
+"For the artist there are three ways of making a living," he pronounced.
+"One is painting for the million--children with rosy cheeks and large
+wheelbarrows; beds with angels hovering over them and kind doctors with
+stethoscopes sitting beside them--that sort of thing--the obvious road
+to the heart. The second is hitting the superior kind of idiot in the
+eye--inventing a cheap new formula--putting a goblin upside down in one
+corner, an immoral-looking woman in another, and passing the arrangement
+off as an allegory. Then up jumps an interpreter and booms you. The
+third is slowly making your name by the sweat of your brow, and selling
+your pictures when you are fifty-five to people who never recognized
+their merit till they had been told you were famous."
+
+"Well," said Hillary, "that gives you a biggish target."
+
+"Does it? I have no popular knack; I lack the conjurer's instincts; and
+I don't mean to wait for Jean Walkingshaw till I am fifty-five."
+
+"Must it be she?" asked Hillary.
+
+"It must!"
+
+"Her father won't help?"
+
+"If he wasn't so infernally respectable he'd shoot me at sight."
+
+"Run away with her. Once you've got her, he won't be heathen enough to
+let her starve."
+
+"In the first place," replied Lucas, "she wouldn't run away with me.
+That's the infernal, charming, irritating, splendid thing about her--she
+is true to us both."
+
+"Won't chuck you and won't chuck the old boy either?"
+
+Lucas nodded.
+
+"The thing can be done," said Hillary languidly; "it only wants a little
+energy and enterprise. Great achievements are never accomplished by
+slackness. Woman was created to yield to the energetic advances of man.
+Remember that, Luc--"
+
+"Besides," interrupted the painter, who had paid singularly little
+attention to this stirring speech, "I happen to be handicapped by a
+little pride. Can you imagine me helping her to compose begging letters
+to her father? 'We are in great distress this winter, and a check for
+twenty pounds will be gratefully, etc. etc. etc.!' Can you see me
+stooping to that sort of thing? What?"
+
+"I merely threw out the idea as it were tentatively," said Hillary
+mildly.
+
+Lucas gave his mustaches a fierce twist and planted himself firmly with
+his back to the despised picture.
+
+"It must have been a practical joke of the Devil's that gave Jean that
+father and then threw me in her way. Old Heriot Walkingshaw is one of
+those men who were created as an antidote to human affection. He stands
+between his children's hearts and the sunshine outside like the brick
+wall of a prison. His virtues are those of a paperweight. Neither his
+daughter nor his fortune are likely to blow away while he is planted on
+them; and there his merits end."
+
+"What a dreadful fellow," murmured Hillary.
+
+"And the worst of such fellows is that they are infectious. One can
+catch grimness and hardness of soul just as one can catch high spirits
+and courage. Bah! I won't think of him any more. I'll have another shot
+at this thing."
+
+He took his brush again and faced the canvas. For a few minutes he
+labored painfully, and then turned with an exclamation.
+
+"The memory of the old devil has got into my brush--" he began, and then
+stopped.
+
+There was a knock upon the studio door.
+
+"Hullo! A patron?" said Hillary.
+
+"A dun more probably," muttered Lucas.
+
+He opened the door and found himself confronting the rubicund
+countenance and imposing form of Heriot Walkingshaw. Over the shoulder
+of this apparition he looked into the clear eyes of Frank. They were
+trying to convey a caution to use whatever tact he possessed; but the
+artist was too dumbfounded to heed them.
+
+"Well?" he demanded.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+"Good-day, Mr. Vernon," said his guest.
+
+He held out his hand, and Lucas mechanically shook it.
+
+"May we come in?" he asked.
+
+"If you want to--certainly," said Lucas; and they entered.
+
+"A fellow-artist, I presume?" inquired Mr. Walkingshaw, glancing at the
+pale and pretty youth.
+
+Lucas automatically introduced them.
+
+"Very happy to meet you, Mr. Hillary," said the W.S. genially. "Let me
+introduce my son."
+
+Leaving the two young men to entertain each other, he walked aside for a
+few paces with his host. His countenance was composed and his air
+dignified; though, as he thoughtlessly took Vernon's arm to direct his
+partially paralyzed movements, the artist began dimly to apprehend that
+no overt outrage was premeditated.
+
+"I say," he began in that pleasantly unconventional vein which appeared
+to afford his vigorous reflections the readiest outlet, "this must seem
+a bit odd and so on, but why the deuce should we go on quarreling just
+because we've once begun? We're above that, eh?"
+
+"I have no wish--" began the artist.
+
+"Exactly, exactly," interrupted his visitor breezily; "we both mean the
+same thing, so that's all right. Perhaps we misunderstood each other on
+a previous occasion. Of course perhaps we didn't--we may be a couple of
+scoundrels just as we imagined, eh? Ha, ha! Still, let's assume there
+was a little misunderstanding. Now what have you been painting?"
+
+The artist's blue eyes looked at him fixedly.
+
+"I am addressing the same Mr. Heriot Walkingshaw?" he inquired in a
+voice compounded of several emotions.
+
+"The same, my dear fellow--essentially the same. I look
+better--younger--fitter, I dare say, eh?"
+
+"Yes," said Lucas, still eyeing him curiously, "you do."
+
+"But you see I am still Frank's father."
+
+He laughed genially, and this argument at last seemed to convince the
+young man that he was not the victim of a strange delusion.
+
+"I am sorry for being a little hasty--" he began, with a candid smile.
+
+"Not at all," interrupted Mr. Walkingshaw good-humoredly. "Don't mention
+it. There was a lady in the case; that's excuse enough for any two men
+quarreling. By the way, my daughter is not with me, but she would no
+doubt wish to have her kind regards--that is to say--well, well, let me
+see the pictures."
+
+In the course of this speech the affable gentleman had been reminded by
+the senior partner that one must be careful not to commit oneself
+rashly. It was odd how often he required these warnings nowadays--and
+how frequently they came just half a sentence too late.
+
+"Brush been busy?" he added hastily.
+
+Lucas pointed to a dozen or more canvases stacked against the wall.
+
+"Fairly," he said.
+
+"May I look at them? Oh, don't trouble to take them off the floor. I'll
+just turn them over for myself, if I may."
+
+He stooped over the stack and moved each canvas in turn till he could
+catch a glimpse of its face. With this ocular demonstration that there
+actually were pictures upon all of them he seemed content, for he
+turned to his host with an approving smile.
+
+"You have not been altogether idle, then?"
+
+"Altogether idle!"
+
+Hillary turned at the exclamation.
+
+"Poor old Lucas is working himself to death," he said, with his gentle
+and insinuating air.
+
+"Indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Walkingshaw, and surveyed the artist with
+increased respect.
+
+"Hillary is inclined to talk--" began Lucas, but was silenced by a
+ferocious stamp of Frank's boot.
+
+"Hush, you idiot!" he murmured.
+
+"No, Lucas," said his friend readily, "I am not inclined to talk as a
+rule, but I cannot bear to hear you maligned. I never saw a man work as
+you do."
+
+"Is that your candid opinion of our friend?" smiled Mr. Walkingshaw with
+a pleasant air.
+
+"It feebly endeavors to express my opinion," replied the engaging young
+man. "He paints on an average one picture per six hours of daylight; and
+the most astounding thing sir, is their consistently high merit."
+
+Lucas looked decidedly uncomfortable.
+
+"I don't sell them, unfortunately," he blurted out.
+
+The W.S. turned grave.
+
+"None of them?" he inquired.
+
+"I haven't sold much lately."
+
+"How's that?"
+
+"The public is not yet educated up to him," said Hillary. "But between
+ourselves, Mr. Walkingshaw, if I had a thousand pounds at this moment, I
+should put it all in Vernons; they'll be worth five thousand in ten
+years' time at a modest estimate--a very modest estimate."
+
+"You are a critic?" inquired the W.S.
+
+"I am considered so," answered the youth modestly.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw turned to the embarrassed artist.
+
+"At the same time, I gather that whatever your merits, this is one of
+your lean years, eh?"
+
+"Devilish," said Lucas.
+
+"That must be discouraging?"
+
+"It might be if I let it."
+
+"That is a damned good answer, Vernon," said Mr. Walkingshaw
+emphatically.
+
+Before the three young men had recovered from the sympathetic surprise
+which this reply occasioned, he had planted himself in front of the
+unfinished picture on the easel.
+
+"What's this you're doing? A wood? Ah, yes, I recognize the trees. Very
+lifelike indeed--most creditable. What's the price of it, if I may ask?"
+
+"What I can get," replied Lucas, with a reminiscence of his afternoon's
+despair.
+
+"Still the same unpractical fellow!" smiled Mr. Walkingshaw. "You're not
+very strong on figures, eh?"
+
+"I don't meet many," said the artist candidly.
+
+"Well," suggested his visitor kindly, "what about fifty pounds?"
+
+"I'd think myself devilish lucky."
+
+"May I have it at that?"
+
+"_You?_"
+
+"It isn't booked already, I trust?"
+
+"N--no."
+
+"That's a bargain, then?"
+
+Lucas's eyes were again fixed in a strange stare. Then a quick change of
+expression broke over his face.
+
+"You're very kind, Mr. Walkingshaw!" he said warmly.
+
+"Tuts, tuts, not a bit. I want to warm up my study with a splash of
+color. That's the way you artists would put it. Eh?"
+
+"A splash of color--yes."
+
+"You see, I'm getting the hang of your lingo already, Vernon. And now,
+what else have you got for sale? What do you recommend, Hillary, eh?"
+
+That young man displayed a sudden aptitude for business which had never
+characterized his own efforts to make a livelihood.
+
+"As a work of art likely to rise enormously in value, I conscientiously
+recommend that," he said, pointing to another canvas.
+
+"A nice head," commented Mr. Walkingshaw. "High-toned yet spiritual, one
+might term it. I like the way the eyes seem to look out of the paper--or
+is it canvas it's done on?"
+
+"Oh--er--I beg your pardon," said Lucas, waking suddenly from his
+reverie; "I--I'll let you have that thrown in."
+
+"Wits a wool-gathering, Vernon?" smiled his patron indulgently. "But I
+dare say you've some excuse. I'll take the picture with pleasure, but I
+insist on paying for it. Let us put this at twenty-five pounds."
+
+"I won't let you!" cried Lucas. "I give it you--I make you a present of
+it. You've been so kind already--"
+
+"Pooh! Come, come," interrupted Mr. Walkingshaw kindly, yet firmly.
+"You've got to make your way, and how will you do that if you give away
+your--fruits of the brush you'd call them, I suppose, eh?"
+
+The artist could not but admit the force of this argument, and in the
+course of an hour had the satisfaction of selling, at considerably above
+his usual market price, no fewer than four of his masterpieces; while
+Mr. Walkingshaw, on his part, became the fortunate possessor of a
+promising but unfinished sylvan scene, the portrait of an unknown lady,
+a rainy day upon the Norfolk coast, and (what he considered the gem of
+the collection) a recognizable panorama of Edinburgh from the north,
+including among its minor details a splash of red ocher which he felt
+certain was the grand stand at the Scottish Union's football field. This
+recalled the sympathetic widow, and gave the picture a sentimental as
+well as an artistic value. He could have wished that on this, as indeed
+on most other occasions, the artist had paid more attention to
+verisimilitude and less to mere vague harmonies and so forth, but as he
+was assured by that intelligent young Hillary that this method was all
+the Go at present, and that his friend Lucas was recognized as a rising
+Dab at it. That at least is how he retailed the argument afterwards.
+
+At the conclusion of these arrangements he again drew the artist aside.
+
+"Would you like a check immediately," he inquired, "or upon delivery of
+the pictures?"
+
+With considerable animation Lucas assured him there was no hurry at all.
+
+"There is a distinction between punctuality and hurry," replied Mr.
+Walkingshaw. "I recommend it to your notice, Vernon. As to the date of
+payment, I suggest by the first post after the delivery of the pictures.
+Does that satisfy you?"
+
+"Quite," said the painter, with a subdued air.
+
+"Strenuous work, patience, and the cultivation of business habits are
+the recommendations I make to you, my dear fellow--as I would to any
+other young man. They have been, if I may say so, the secret of any
+little success I may have achieved myself. Good-by, Vernon, good-by!"
+
+He departed thus upon a note of austere benevolence, leaving behind him
+a grateful yet chastened artist.
+
+"Well, Frank," said he, as they drove back together, "that young fellow
+has managed to sell one or two pictures, I'm glad to find."
+
+His eyes twinkled merrily as he spoke, but before his son had time to
+reply the senior partner spoke again.
+
+"I only hope he keeps it up," was his addendum.
+
+For a young man, Frank had remarkable discretion (apart from his one
+lamentable lapse). He dutifully agreed with this sentiment, and then
+proceeded to congratulate his parent on the taste with which he had
+selected his pictures and the excellence of the investment he had made.
+Mr. Walkingshaw appeared gratified by his approval.
+
+"I don't throw my money away, Frank," he said complacently. "By the way,
+what's the cab fare?"
+
+"One and six," said Frank.
+
+In the temporary absence of the senior partner, Mr. Walkingshaw handed
+the man half a crown, and entered the hotel humming a romantic melody.
+
+As he crossed the hall a deferential attendant approached with a
+telegram.
+
+"Hullo!" said he, "a wire. I wonder who the deuce this is from."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+It is a lamentable fact, remarked upon even by popular politicians, that
+the very measures which give the highest satisfaction to some people
+produce the profoundest depression in others. And it is worth adding
+that it is not always the most original reflections which have procured
+for their authors the widest reputation (though, if one wanted to quote
+an authority for this last axiom, one would perhaps turn rather to the
+popular theologians).
+
+Of the truth of the first proposition, that worthy young man, Andrew
+Walkingshaw, was an unhappy example. It is the case that his parent's
+disappearance was not without compensating advantages. He was spared a
+number of minor annoyances, which of late had been the undeserved
+accompaniment of his blameless life; but then, the mystery of that
+disappearance, its unorthodoxy, its appalling suggestions of scandal!
+He knew now what it must feel like to have a relative engaged upon
+fashionable divorce proceedings or conspicuously notorious on
+the music-hall stage. For, despite his industry in circulating a
+circumstantial account of the business that had called the head of the
+firm so suddenly away, he thought he observed in the face of every
+acquaintance a kind of sly and knowing expression. "Aha!" every one of
+them seemed to say, "I've got my knife into _you_, Andrew!"
+
+Beneath the roof of the respectable mansion in which he had hitherto
+spent a life unsullied by mystery or romance he found, to his horror,
+that these sinister manifestations were even more marked than in his
+club. The restored happiness of Jean was a bad sign, very ominous under
+the circumstances. It is true that she professed complete ignorance of
+their father's movements, but Andrew was too astute a lawyer to pay much
+attention to what people said; it was how they behaved that he went by;
+and Jean's conduct was suspicious. Why should she be smiling while this
+dark cloud hung over their reputations? The like of that looked very
+bad. He resolved to probe the matter a bit further.
+
+"There's some one wanting to know where Frank has got to," he began,
+with an ingenuous air, when he met her next.
+
+"What does he want to see him about?" inquired Jean.
+
+"He didn't say, but I thought perhaps you had heard Frank mention where
+he was going. Did you by any chance?"
+
+His air remained as ingenuous as ever, but Jean looked at him
+doubtfully. For a moment she hesitated.
+
+"Yes," she said.
+
+"Oh, where was it?"
+
+"Of course I don't know whether he has gone there."
+
+"The chances are he has," said Andrew. "What was his intention?"
+
+"Who was the man that wanted to know?"
+
+Andrew was particularly scrupulous never to deviate far from the high
+road of truth. Of course there were footpaths alongside that led to the
+same place, and gave one a certain amount of latitude; but beyond these
+no moral or respectable man should venture. Supposing one were caught in
+an adjoining field cutting a corner!
+
+"That's neither here nor there," he said evasively.
+
+"Was there really anybody at all asking for him, or is the 'some one'
+yourself?"
+
+Her brother looked severe.
+
+"Look here, Jean," said he, "you know where he has gone--I've got that
+much out of you; and it's your duty to tell me."
+
+Her eyes were fixed on him steadily.
+
+"You think Frank and father have gone off together?"
+
+"I know nothing about that."
+
+"And that's why you are suddenly so curious about Frank?"
+
+He regarded her in injured silence; but instead of appearing affected by
+his unspoken reproach, she continued with an air of knowing both his
+intentions and her own.
+
+"If father wanted you to know he would have told you himself."
+
+"It is for his own sake I want to find out."
+
+"Then you admit you were trying to find out about father! What benefit
+would it be to him if you knew?"
+
+"It is most inconvenient at the office not knowing his address."
+
+"If it really were very inconvenient, father would be certain to think
+of that and send you his address himself."
+
+"He has not thought of it."
+
+"Well then, there can't be any great inconvenience."
+
+Not for the first time in his life Andrew wished that all humanity
+belonged to his own sensible, candid, trustworthy sex.
+
+"I tell you there is," he insisted.
+
+"I trust father implicitly," she replied.
+
+"Oh, you think his recent behavior has been the kind of thing to inspire
+confidence?"
+
+"It has in me!" she answered enthusiastically.
+
+"You have a high opinion of his sense," he sneered.
+
+"A great deal higher than I have of anybody else's in the world--in
+Edinburgh, anyhow!" she retorted, and with her chin held high broke off
+the conference.
+
+This was sufficiently exasperating, but it was not the worst that
+treacherous sex could do. The widow's demeanor was a hundred times more
+menacing. She was so motherly towards Jean, so sisterly towards his
+unfortunate aunt, so skittishly condescending towards himself, that his
+previous suspicions of her were sunshiny compared with the dark
+convictions that lay heavier upon him each day. Her black eyes danced
+mockingly whenever he looked into them; she seemed always to be hugging
+the most delicious secret. Andrew doubted she had hugged more than a
+secret in this house.
+
+It was a further confirmation of her perfidy that ever since his
+father's flight she had made a point of being down to breakfast before
+him, so that he could never see what letters she received. That was
+damning evidence against her--damnable evidence, in fact, for it argued
+a degree both of intelligence and energy for which he had not given her
+credit. Like his father before him, he was discovering that there was
+more up this sparkling lady's sleeve than met the eye.
+
+A few mornings after the disappearance he thought he had caught her.
+When he entered the room she was reading a letter. He snapped up the
+chance instantly.
+
+"Is that my father's writing?" he inquired, dissimulating his acuteness
+under an easy conversational air.
+
+"It's a little like it," she replied, with an amiable smile, slipping
+the letter into its envelop and turning that face downwards on the
+table.
+
+The W.S. began to respect as much as he detested her. All through
+breakfast she rippled with the happiest smiles and the gayest
+conversation. At the end, his detestation had again got its head in
+front of his respect.
+
+But the following morning he himself received a letter which threw the
+widow and her smiles so completely into the background that for the next
+forty-eight hours he was scarcely aware of her existence. It ran thus:
+
+                                 250 BURY STREET,
+                                   ST. JAMES', S.W.
+
+     "MY DEAR ANDREW,--It is with the greatest concern and regret that I
+     feel myself compelled to write to you on the subject of my old
+     friend, your poor father. No doubt you will be able to judge better
+     than myself how far he is responsible for his conduct, and whether
+     or not there is any serious need for anxiety; but I consider I
+     should be doing less than my duty if I failed to inform you of the
+     risks to his health and his reputation which he is running at
+     present. I spent last night with him; in fact, it was only in the
+     small hours of this morning that I left him still dancing at the
+     Covent Garden Fancy Ball. I assure you I am at a loss how to
+     express my consternation and alarm at his peculiar behavior. Are
+     you aware that he has taken to dyeing his hair and doctoring his
+     face, so that at first sight one might almost mistake him for a
+     much younger man than we know him to be? The extravagance of his
+     language and restlessness of his movements lends color to the
+     suspicion that he is a little wrong in his head. I do not wish to
+     alarm you unnecessarily, but if you had seen him galloping about in
+     a domino and a false nose at two o'clock in the morning I cannot
+     help thinking you would share my concern. He seems also to have
+     lost all his old caution about money matters. Are you aware that he
+     is stopping at the Hotel Gigantique, of all places, and doing
+     himself and your brother Frank like a couple of millionaires? I
+     cannot help considering this a very remarkable symptom.
+
+     "I myself am in bed to-day, so pray forgive the handwriting.--With
+     kind regards to you all, believe me, yours sincerely,
+
+                                   "CHARLES MUNRO."
+
+The firmament seemed to darken as though a thunderstorm brooded over the
+devoted house. Already in fancy Andrew could hear the first crashings
+and flashes of the coming scandal. His appetite vanished, his coffee
+grew cold, and presently he rose and silently left the room. Yet the man
+of superior mental equipment rarely fails to extract some crumbs of
+consolation out of the direst disaster. Andrew extracted his by
+summoning Jean before he started for the office and handing her the
+terrible letter. As he watched her read it, the phrase shaped by his
+countenance might be read without the aid of any signal-book--
+
+"What did I tell you?"
+
+Certainly there was a well-earned morsel of satisfaction to be derived
+from her startled eyes and the little catches in her breath. She could
+believe him now! When she spoke at last her first words were exceedingly
+gratifying.
+
+"What a horrid old man he must be!"
+
+He looked suitably reproachful.
+
+"That is strong language to use of your father."
+
+Her eyes blazed.
+
+"I am talking of Colonel Munro! The idea of giving father away like
+that. It's one of the very meanest things I ever heard of! I sincerely
+hope he may be in bed for a month."
+
+She swept away, and her brother was left to brood gloomily upon the
+selfish perversity that thus actually defrauded him of his legitimate
+triumph.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+"Well," said Andrew, "what is to be done?"
+
+The problem was undoubtedly delicate. He had paid it the compliment of
+summoning his two sensible married sisters to aid him with their
+counsel; and even they, though not lacking in decision as a rule,
+regarded first the Colonel's letter and then their brother with
+disturbed and doubtful eyes. He gave them no hint of the dreadful and
+disreputable change in their father's very being; that was positively
+too shocking to confide even to a sister (besides, they wouldn't have
+believed him), but he considered that the essentials of the problem were
+now fairly grasped by them both, and he was pleased to find a
+sympathetic unanimity of horror.
+
+"He can't be allowed to go on disgracing himself in London; that much is
+perfectly clear," said Mrs. Ramornie.
+
+"Not to speak of ruining us all," added Andrew.
+
+"Can you not go and fetch him home?" asked Mrs. Donaldson.
+
+Andrew pursed his lips.
+
+"In the first place, would he come? You know how infernally obstinate he
+can be. In the second place, do we want him making an exhibition of
+himself here?"
+
+"He would not have quite the opportunities here."
+
+"Not for spending money, I admit; but we don't want him taking the chair
+and making speeches at the W.S. dinner to-morrow night in his present
+condition."
+
+"Will he not remember and come back for it, anyhow?" suggested Mrs.
+Ramornie.
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"He has never spoken about it for a long while. I'm practically positive
+he has forgotten."
+
+"But do you not need him at the office?" asked Mrs. Donaldson.
+
+"_Need_ him!"
+
+"I can only tell you," she replied, "that Hector says he gets through
+business in a most surprising way, for all his eccentricity."
+
+"Very surprising," he retorted sarcastically.
+
+"Oh," she said airily, "I know you fancy yourself, but Hector declares
+father is the man for his money nowadays."
+
+Andrew's cheeks drooped gloomily. He had heard hints of this
+preposterous opinion once or twice lately, and they disgusted his sense
+of fitness. How could a man possibly be good at business if he rushed
+through it like a steam-engine? Supposing one of the telegraph posts at
+the side wanted a touch of tar, how could you notice it going at that
+pace! But what was the use in arguing with a woman?
+
+"Well, I can only tell you this," he snapped: "there's Madge Dunbar
+waiting for him here with her mouth open."
+
+The two sisters immediately relinquished all idea of bringing him home.
+
+"But if we let him stay in London, he'll be bankrupt in a month!" cried
+Andrew desperately.
+
+"What the deuce is to be done?"
+
+They pondered for a few minutes in silence, and then Mrs. Ramornie
+exclaimed, with an inspired air--
+
+"He must go abroad!"
+
+"And how are you going to manage that?" inquired Andrew.
+
+"You've got to go and take him."
+
+"Me!" he cried. "But--but, dash it, Maggie, he'll never go with _me_."
+
+"You will have to dissemble a little, of course; pretend you want a
+holiday too, and take him to--to, well, we must look up some inexpensive
+French watering-place."
+
+Gertrude smiled her approval.
+
+"That's the idea, Andrew! Go up in a white felt hat, and tell him you
+know of a naughty little place in France where you can get dancing.
+He'll jump at it!"
+
+Their brother regarded them with ever-increasing gloom.
+
+"That kind of thing is not in my line--" he began; but once more he was
+impressed with the disadvantages of a bi-sexual world. The two ladies
+seemed positively incapable of grasping his objections, either to
+wearing a Homburg hat or recommending a naughty French watering-place.
+
+"I don't insist on its being white; grey will do," said Mrs. Donaldson.
+
+"Of course, I should never dream of taking him to a really disreputable
+place," said Mrs. Ramornie; "you only want a Casino and a little
+promenading, and so on."
+
+"It will be great fun, Andrew!"
+
+"It is your duty, Andrew."
+
+"Yes, yes; of course we know you are an Elder of the Kirk and all the
+rest of it; but on an occasion, don't you know, Andrew!"
+
+"What alternative do you suggest, Andrew?"
+
+Yet he was still hanging fire when Jean entered. It had been tacitly
+understood that her presence was not required at the council of war,
+and the marked silence which followed her entry might reasonably have
+warned her that matters were being discussed too complicated for young
+unmarried girls. Yet she closed the door behind her and came forward
+with a quietly resolute air.
+
+"I've only just heard you were here," she said. "You are talking about
+father, I suppose."
+
+"We are," replied Mrs. Ramornie briefly.
+
+Jean sat down.
+
+"What have you decided?" she asked.
+
+"We have decided he should go abroad with Andrew for a little change."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Do you need to ask why, Jean? Surely you don't want him to go on making
+a fool of himself in London?"
+
+"I don't see why he shouldn't go to a dance occasionally if he wants
+to."
+
+"Go to a dance!" exclaimed Mrs. Donaldson.
+
+"My dear Jean! do you suppose this was an ordinary--"
+
+"Hush, Gertrude," said their brother austerely.
+
+"Anyhow," said Mrs. Ramornie, "it is quite settled that he must leave
+London at all costs, and that it is inadvisable he should return to
+Edinburgh at present."
+
+"But Aunt Mary was only saying to-day that he has to preside at a dinner
+to-morrow night."
+
+"Oh, he'll forget all about that," said Gertrude, "and, of course, we
+don't mean to remind him."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because he is not to be trusted at present," said Andrew.
+
+A quick flush irradiated Jean's clear face.
+
+"He _is_ to be trusted. He is to be trusted far more than ever before in
+his life!"
+
+The three counselors exchanged glances.
+
+"We know better than you do," said Mrs. Ramornie severely.
+
+But Jean was not easily to be quelled.
+
+"I think it will be a perfect shame if you allow father to forget his
+engagement," she protested.
+
+Her eldest sister's face grew more like Andrew's than ever.
+
+"He must _not_ come home at present, and we trust that Andrew will do
+his duty and not permit him to stay in London."
+
+"Andrew!" exclaimed Jean. "How can he prevent him?"
+
+Their brother hung back no longer.
+
+"I shall go up to London to-morrow morning," he announced.
+
+"Splendid!" cried Gertrude.
+
+He looked at her coldly.
+
+"I do not propose to do anything ridiculous. If I can get him to go to
+some place in the south of England and stop for a month or two, that
+will be quite sufficient; and I do not propose, either, to wear any
+other clothes than what I've got at present."
+
+Having thus asserted his independence of conduct and apparel, he turned
+again to Jean.
+
+"That is what we have decided," he said.
+
+She jumped up, her lip quivering a little. Then she controlled herself,
+and as she left the room only said quietly--
+
+"Thank you for telling me."
+
+The council was then able to conclude its deliberations without further
+interruption.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+After dinner that night, Andrew found Mrs. Dunbar alone in the
+drawing-room, and immediately turned to withdraw.
+
+"Are you not going to have coffee, Andrew?" she asked.
+
+There was something different in her manner; something almost nervous;
+something apparently less hostile. Andrew glanced at her suspiciously.
+What new move in her diabolical game did this signify?
+
+"I've got letters to write," he answered coldly, and shut the door
+decisively behind him.
+
+The fair widow sighed, and again picked up a letter lying in her lap and
+looked at it unhappily. She had kept her word and written to Charlie
+Munro, and unfortunately Heriot had forgotten to warn him that his
+answer to any such communication must be exceedingly discreet. No wonder
+she seemed distressed.
+
+Naturally, the junior partner gave his fair enemy no information
+regarding his movements. She saw him leave in the morning as usual,
+apparently to go to the office, and it was not till some time later
+that she learned from his aunt of his departure for London. Curiously
+enough, she seemed rather pleased than otherwise by this move. Her
+correspondence with Colonel Munro had left the most unsettling effects.
+
+Meanwhile, Andrew was nearing London. He was pleased to find his train
+arrive upon the stroke of 6:15, for he valued punctuality above
+everything except his reputation. From the station he drove to the large
+political club where he always put up, ate a dinner that exactly
+accorded with his station in life, and took a horse bus to the Hotel
+Gigantique. (Motor buses were only just beginning to be seen upon the
+streets at that time, and he was always suspicious of noisy
+innovations.)
+
+By the merest chance, the first person he saw in the hall of the hotel
+was Frank, attired in overcoat and opera hat, and evidently bound for
+some extravagant expedition, the cost of which would no doubt be
+defrayed by his parent to the detriment of his brother's and sisters'
+patrimony.
+
+"Well, Frank," said the elder brother, "where's your father?"
+
+The "your" was a subtle indication of the depth to which Mr.
+Walkingshaw had fallen in the estimation of the right-minded.
+
+"Out of town," said Frank briefly.
+
+"Where's he gone?"
+
+Frank shook his head.
+
+"You can ask at the office," he suggested.
+
+"Do you mean to say you don't know?"
+
+"I mean to say it's none of my business."
+
+Andrew had begun the conversation in a decidedly hectoring manner. He
+now began to alter his key a little.
+
+"Look here, Frank, things are pretty serious. We've got to stop this
+tomfoolery."
+
+The other interrupted him.
+
+"What tomfoolery?"
+
+"Making an exhibition of himself all over London, and wasting his money
+at a place like this. You know perfectly well what I mean."
+
+"I only know that he's in the best form I've ever seen him in my life.
+He's just a devilish kind and sporting guv'nor, that's what he is."
+
+"If you mean going about the most disreputable places in London in a
+half-intoxicated condition--"
+
+"That's a lie, anyhow," said Frank calmly, yet with a glint in his eye.
+
+His brother recoiled a pace, but his manner grew none the less
+uncompromising.
+
+"I suppose you'll say he's moving in fine high-class society, do you?"
+
+"It's a lot better than anything he ever found in his office."
+
+"Thank you," replied the junior partner; "and now perhaps you'll tell me
+when he's expected back?"
+
+"Day or two," said Frank shortly.
+
+Andrew pondered for a moment.
+
+"Oh?" he remarked at length, and without so much as a good-night he
+turned on his heel and walked out of the hotel.
+
+Frank's conscience harassed him for a long time after this interview.
+He wished he could be quite certain that his manner towards his brother
+was entirely the result of Andrew's disagreeable references to their
+father. He would be the most ill-conditioned sweep unkicked, the most
+dishonorable sneaking blackguard, if by any chance he had allowed his
+luckless passion to prejudice him! He began to wish he were back in
+India again. Was this beastly furlough never coming to an end? And so
+he drove off in his hansom, alternately sighing and cursing himself,
+to watch what he had selected from the pictures in the illustrated
+papers as the most sentimental drama in town.
+
+The advantage of living a well-regulated life was never better
+illustrated than in the person of his brother Andrew. No qualms of
+conscience annoyed him as he drove back economically in his bus. He
+knew that he was right, and that people who violated his standards,
+and disagreed with him impertinently were wrong; and secure in that
+knowledge, he was enabled to hug against his outraged feelings the warm
+consolation of a grievance. All through his life this form of moral
+hot-water bottle had kept Andrew snug during many a painful night. It is
+worth being consistently righteous for the mere privilege of possessing
+this invaluable perquisite.
+
+He decided to wait in London for twenty-four hours longer on the chance
+of his father returning, and so it happened that he found himself in his
+club reading-room on the following afternoon at the hour when the
+_Scotsman_ appeared to cheer the exiles from the north. He secured it at
+once, and with a consoling sense of homeliness proceeded to turn its
+familiar pages. All at once he was galvanized into the rigidity of a
+fire-iron--
+
+"Writers to the Signets' Annual Dinner. Remarkable speech by Mr. Heriot
+Walkingshaw."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a few minutes before he summoned up his courage to read any
+further.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     "Mr. Walkingshaw began by remarking that it was by the merest
+     chance he was present among them to-night. He had been so engrossed
+     by the attractions of London (laughter)--he did not mean what they
+     meant (renewed laughter)--that he had positively forgotten all
+     about his duty to his convivial fellow-practitioners till he was
+     reminded by a telegram from a young lady (a laugh). He alluded to
+     his daughter (cheers). Several morals might be drawn from this
+     little incident. The advantages of the sixpenny telegram and the
+     even greater advantages of getting on the right side of the fair
+     sex (cheers and laughter); these were two morals, but what he
+     proposed to bring more particularly under their notice to-night was
+     this: that if a respectable old chap like himself could enjoy
+     himself so thoroughly as to forget his duty, there was hope even
+     for the oldest of them (slight applause). What satisfaction was it
+     to become prosperous and respected if at the same time one became a
+     bugbear to one's children and a bore to one's acquaintances?
+     Supposing that one of the old and valued friends he saw before him
+     could suddenly see himself with the eyes of a young man of forty,
+     or better still of thirty, what would he think of himself?--He
+     would desire to drive a pin through the old fossil's trousers and
+     wake him up! (a laugh). He would realize he was out of touch with
+     life; that he was neglecting a dozen opportunities a day for giving
+     pleasure to people who were still young enough to enjoy themselves,
+     and thereby bucking himself up too. Mr. Walkingshaw begged his
+     audience, particularly that portion of it over fifty, to beware of
+     the fatal habit of growing old. How was this to be avoided? Well,
+     everybody could not hope to have his own good fortune, but he could
+     give them a few tips. In the first place, they should make a point
+     of falling in love at least twice a year (laughter). The old duffer
+     who ceased to fall in love was doomed. Then, while leading a
+     strictly abstemious life on six days of the week, they should let
+     themselves go a bit on the seventh; and when in that condition (a
+     laugh)--he did not mean 'blind fu',' but merely a little the
+     happier for it--while in that condition they should unlock their
+     cash boxes and distribute a substantial sum among the poor and
+     deserving young. Furthermore, they should make a point of mixing at
+     least twice a week in fresh society--Bohemians, sportsmen, and the
+     like. Also, nothing should be allowed to degenerate into a habit,
+     especially churchgoing--"
+
+Andrew read no further. Half an hour later he was driving for King's
+Cross as fast as a cab could take him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+It was characteristic of Andrew's serviceable and soundly unimaginative
+intellect that it should decline to grasp such a phenomenon as a father
+who was rapidly approaching his own age. It accepted the fact, since the
+evidence was now becoming overwhelming, but it firmly refused to go an
+inch beyond this concession. If one were seriously to regard his conduct
+as the natural result of youth and high spirits, there would be in a
+kind of way an excuse for it; and once you started that line of
+reasoning, where were you? You would be pardoning beggars because they
+were hungry, and bankrupts because they had no money, and all kinds of
+things. Andrew's conceptions of justice were not to be tampered with
+like that. It therefore followed (since he was extremely logical) that
+his parent must be looked upon simply as an erring and impenitent man.
+His age did not matter. That was his business. His son's was to see
+that, whether Mr. Heriot Walkingshaw professed to be eighty or eighteen,
+he conducted himself in a manner befitting the head of so respectable a
+family and firm.
+
+The only defect in this pre-eminently honest way of regarding the matter
+was that it handicapped the junior partner when it came to forecasting
+his parent's probable movements. If you persist in basing your
+calculations on the assumption that a bird _ought_ to be too old to fly,
+when it actually isn't, you will probably be wrong in expecting to find
+it always in your garden.
+
+Andrew let himself into the house about the hour of 8:30 a. m., and
+almost fell into the arms of the agitated widow.
+
+"Have you found him? Where is he? What has happened?" she implored him.
+
+It was another of Andrew's wholesome peculiarities that, having once
+distrusted a person, his suspicions could hardly be allayed, even by
+evidence that would have satisfied a hypochondriacal ex-detective. This
+safeguard against deception effectually preserved him from the dangerous
+extremes both of indigence and greatness. He looked upon his second
+cousin with a shocked and doubtful eye. She had come very close. Did she
+expect _him_ to toy with her?
+
+"Have I found who?" he inquired coldly.
+
+"Heriot!"
+
+"If you mean my father, I did not find him."
+
+He looked at her sarcastically, and added, "He didn't mention that
+himself, of course?"
+
+"I haven't seen him!" she almost shouted.
+
+He looked thoroughly startled now.
+
+"Hasn't he been here?"
+
+"He was only in the house for an hour. That was the day before
+yesterday. He didn't let me know he was here--he didn't let his sister
+know--nobody knew but Jean!"
+
+"Where was he staying?"
+
+"At an hotel."
+
+"An hotel!" exclaimed Andrew in horror. "Going to all that expense, with
+his house standing waiting for him? That beats everything I've heard
+yet! Is he there still?"
+
+"No, no, he's not!" she cried, almost sobbing. "He's gone back to
+London."
+
+"Gone back to London!"
+
+"And Jean's gone with him!"
+
+"Jean! Has he not got enough bills to pay at that infernal millionaire's
+hotel without hers?"
+
+"I don't know," wailed the lady. "I don't understand him. I thought he
+cared for me--and he didn't even let me know he was here!"
+
+In spite of his anger with his erring parent, he was sufficiently master
+of his emotions to feel a lively concern at all this speech suggested.
+
+"I must get my breakfast," he observed icily, and was starting for the
+dining-room.
+
+She collected herself instantly.
+
+"Andrew!" she said, "you've got to go after him."
+
+He stared at her, first in extreme surprise, then with an exceedingly
+sophisticated smile.
+
+"Thank you, I've got my business to attend to."
+
+"You can go to the office first. There's a train about two."
+
+"I'll not be on it," he replied.
+
+"Some one's _got_ to go and fetch him back."
+
+"It won't be me."
+
+She looked at him for a moment with an expression which did not interest
+him. He neither professed to understand women nor to think it worth
+while trying.
+
+"Very well," she answered.
+
+They went in to breakfast, but throughout the meal she never referred to
+Heriot again. Andrew flattered himself he had choked her off _that_
+subject.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+While Andrew was still patiently waiting in London, a south-bound
+express swung down the long slope from Shap; past Oxenholme, past
+Milnthorpe, past Carnforth, out into the green levels of Lancashire. In
+one corner of a first-class carriage sat Jean Walkingshaw, her eyes
+smiling approval at that very paper which was to disturb her brother's
+serenity a few hours later. Her father sat opposite watching her.
+
+"Well, what do you think of it?" he inquired.
+
+"I think it's most amusing and--and--"
+
+"Spirited?"
+
+"Oh, very spirited!" she laughed. "In fact, I think it's a splendid
+speech."
+
+He seemed gratified.
+
+"Some fellows didn't seem to care for it," he observed.
+
+"They must have been very stupid, then!"
+
+"Old buffers generally are," he replied. "Some of the young chaps
+thought it first-rate, even though they were a little startled for the
+moment. Though why people should feel startled by anything so
+self-evident as my remarks beats me. Be hanged to them for silly idiots!
+Eh, Jean?"
+
+His momentary expression of chagrin made way for a merry smile, which
+set his daughter smiling gaily back.
+
+"If they disagree with you, father, they must be!" she laughed.
+
+They sat silent for a few minutes, Jean watching the green fields and
+trees and gates and walls rush past to join the jagged fells behind
+them, her father watching her.
+
+"It's awfully good of you taking me back with you," she said presently.
+
+"If it's a treat for you, you deserve it," he answered affectionately;
+"and if it's not--well, anyhow, it's pleasant for me having your
+company."
+
+"It is a treat for me, though I don't quite see what I've done to
+deserve it."
+
+"You have stood by your father, my dear; and one good turn deserves
+another. I'd have been most infernally sick if I'd forgotten that
+dinner. It gave me the very chance of saying a word or two in season
+I'd been longing for. I only hope it will do the old fogies good."
+
+He took up the paper and glanced again at the report.
+
+"'Remarkable speech,' they call it," he continued complacently. "Well,
+they are not very far wrong. It _was_ a remarkable speech. Eh, Jean?"
+
+The good gentleman seemed unable to obtain his daughter's approval often
+enough. The fact was he had been a trifle disappointed with the attitude
+of some of his old friends last night. There was no doubt about it, he
+must go to the young folks for the meed of sympathy he deserved.
+
+Jean again looked out of the window, but she ceased to pay much
+attention to the backward-drifting landscape. Her heart was too full of
+hopes and questionings and restless wonder. In a little she turned to
+her father again and said, with an eye so candid and a smile so kind
+that many members even of her own sex would never have suspected a hint
+of ulterior design--
+
+"Do you know, you are the very best of fathers!"
+
+He replied in the same spirit of affection, and she continued--
+
+"I can't tell you how much I am looking forward to being in London
+again! You couldn't have done anything I'd have liked better."
+
+"Yes," he confessed, "London is an amusing place."
+
+"And one always meets so many people one knows there. That is one of its
+attractions."
+
+He agreed that it was.
+
+"I wonder who I'll meet this time?"
+
+She spoke with an air of the most innocent speculation, but the nature
+of her parent's smile changed subtly.
+
+"Goodness knows who one will meet in London," he replied. "Not Andrew,
+we'll hope, eh? I wonder where he is now."
+
+At this change of subject her breast gave a quick little heave that
+might have marked a stifled sigh, but she dutifully joined in what she
+could not but think an unnecessarily prolonged series of speculations
+regarding the movements of a quite uninteresting young man.
+
+But her eyes were very bright indeed and her face distinct with
+suppressed excitement as they drove from Euston Station into the life of
+the streets. All the while she kept looking out of the cab window, as
+though amid the passing myriads she might happen already to recognize
+one of those acquaintances she hoped to meet. At last she was in
+London! And London in early spring; London with the smuts washed off by
+torrential showers and then flooded with glorious sunshine; London with
+the young leaves like a thin veil of green on the limes and elms, and
+the tassels hanging from the poplars, and the sycamores and horse
+chestnuts already casting grateful shade; London with the mowing
+machines whirling in the parks and the watering-carts swishing down the
+streets--is a fairy city for a young girl with a large hotel to live in,
+a generous father, and a lover somewhere hidden in those mysterious
+miles of crowds and houses. Jean half wished she could feel a little
+less impatient, so that she might relish every passing moment to its
+dregs.
+
+Her father, Frank, and she dined sumptuously and went to the most
+entertaining play afterwards--a stimulating medley of waltz refrains and
+gorgeous clothes and a funny man and fifty pretty girls. She did not
+pose as a dramatic critic, and thought it splendid. Then they had supper
+at the Savoy, and--so to bed.
+
+But though she had gone to her room, Jean lingered for long before her
+open window, looking wistfully over the humming, lamp-lit town. _His_
+name had not been mentioned.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+Lucas painted, but not so fiercely as before; and again from the
+deck-chair Hillary watched him. He rented the studio next door, and
+having a comfortable private income of £80 a year, generally spent his
+afternoons encouraging his friend. Occasionally, however, he considered
+it advisable to supply chastening reflections.
+
+"I don't like it," he observed.
+
+"Don't like what?"
+
+"If he really meant to buy those pictures, I can't help thinking you
+would have heard from him again."
+
+The artist turned abruptly.
+
+"It was only three days ago. I don't expect to hear yet."
+
+"Dear old Lucas, I don't want to discourage you, but I call it fishy.
+Supposing he has met some one since who really knew something about
+pictures?"
+
+His friend resumed work in silence.
+
+"There is also another possibility," continued Hillary in his gentle
+voice. "He struck me as suspiciously extravagant--supposing he has
+gone bankrupt? I noticed, too, that his complexion was somewhat
+rubicund--supposing he has had an apoplectic fit? In that case, would
+his executors be bound by his verbal promise? Honestly, Lucas, I don't
+think so."
+
+There came a sharp rap on the door.
+
+"It will relax the strain on your intellect if you go and see who that
+is," suggested the painter.
+
+"A telegram," said Hillary, strolling back from the door.
+
+"Good heavens!" cried Lucas. "Read that."
+
+Hillary read--
+
+     "Come immediately. Unfortunate complication here. Require you to
+     explain fully.--HERIOT WALKINGSHAW."
+
+He looked considerably sobered.
+
+"Of course I didn't really mean what I was saying--"
+
+Lucas interrupted him brusquely.
+
+"I'm off. Look after things here. What the devil--"
+
+He strode down the lane, hailed a cab, and drove off to an
+accompaniment of the most anxious speculations.
+
+"This way, sir," said the attendant at the Hotel Gigantique.
+
+Lucas followed him, still racking his brains for some explanation not
+too disastrous to his hopes. The man opened the door of a sitting-room
+and closed it quietly behind him. In the room there was only one person,
+a girl with the sunniest hair and the straightest little nose and the
+most delightfully astonished face imaginable.
+
+"Jean!" he cried.
+
+He took a quick step towards her and then remembered the gravity of the
+summons.
+
+"What's the matter?" he demanded.
+
+"Then it was you!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Me?"
+
+"Father only told me that some one--a man--"
+
+He held out the telegram abruptly.
+
+"What do you make of that?"
+
+She read it, and then read it again, and her bewilderment seemed to
+change into another emotion.
+
+"What did your father tell you to do?" asked Lucas.
+
+She gave him the queerest look.
+
+"Get rid of the man if I could," she said.
+
+He ran his fingers through his mop of brown hair.
+
+"But I don't understand--what's the 'complication'?"
+
+She began to smile shyly--
+
+"Lucas, don't you think--don't you see--there's nothing else. _I_ must
+be the complication here."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Ahem!" coughed Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+The lovers endeavored to look as though the artist had been merely
+posing his patron's daughter.
+
+"Well?" inquired that patron genially.
+
+Lucas had not altogether lost his ready audacity.
+
+"I came at once, sir," he replied, "and I have explained fully. The
+complication has been cleared up."
+
+Laughing gleefully, chattering away much more like the prospective best
+man than the future father-in-law, he led them (an arm thrown about
+each) towards the sofa, where they sat together, crowded but happy.
+
+"What would you put your income at now, Lucas?" he inquired
+mischievously.
+
+Lucas looked a little rueful.
+
+"The same fluctuating figures, I'm afraid," he confessed.
+
+"My dear fellow, don't worry," said Heriot kindly. "Money isn't
+everything in this world. Youth and love and pluck are the main things.
+Hang it, what if you do get into debt occasionally? You've got a
+pretty oofy father-in-law. Of course, my dear chap, I don't encourage
+extravagance; far from it"--he glanced complacently at the chaste
+upholstery of the Hotel Gigantique. "I believe in paying your way, and
+laying by for a rainy day, and all that kind of thing, just as much as
+ever I did--in theory, anyhow. But in practice I may just as well tell
+you at once, to ease your mind, that Jean will have three hundred a year
+to keep the pot boiling."
+
+He pooh-poohed their gratitude with the most genial air.
+
+"Don't mention it, my dear young people, don't mention it. It comes out
+of Andrew's share, so it's all right."
+
+"But I couldn't dream of robbing Andrew!" cried Jean warmly.
+
+"He spends his days in robbing our clients," chuckled the senior
+partner, "so you needn't worry about him. Besides, he doesn't know
+how to spend money even when he has got it." He lowered his voice
+confidentially. "Andrew hasn't a spark of the sportsman in him; he's all
+very well as a partner--one wants 'em tough; but as a son--good Lord!"
+
+And then the good gentleman tactfully retired to the billiard-room,
+leaving behind him the two happiest people in London.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+Naturally, Lucas stayed to dinner, and naturally also he and Jean were
+left in uninterrupted occupation of the private sitting-room, while her
+father and Frank smoked and talked together in a quiet corner of the
+hall. Mr. Walkingshaw was radiant with the reflection of the happiness
+he had brought about. He could do nothing but make little plans for
+introducing Lucas to his picture-buying acquaintances, select eligible
+districts of London for their residence, and jot down various articles
+of furniture or ornament that he could spare them from his own mansion.
+Frank seemed equally delighted, though his good spirits were
+occasionally interrupted by fits of reverie.
+
+"Somehow or other," said Mr. Walkingshaw, "I feel more and more like a
+friend of Jean and you, and less and less like your father. Odd thing,
+isn't it, Frank?"
+
+"A jolly fine thing," said Frank warmly. "By Jove, sir, I can't tell you
+how much I prefer it!"
+
+"Do you really? Well, then, I won't worry about the feeling any more."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw had not given the impression that he was worrying about
+that or any other feeling, but one was bound to take his word for it.
+
+"I enjoy the sensation far more myself," he went on. "It produces a kind
+of mutual confidence and that sort of thing. I hardly feel inclined to
+explain the cause of this improvement yet, Frank; but you may take my
+word that there is nothing in the least discreditable about it. In fact,
+when one comes to think of it, there's nothing so very extraordinary
+either. It's a perfectly sound scientific idea, perfectly sound; so you
+can make your mind at ease too, Frank."
+
+As a matter of fact, Frank's mind had already wandered far afield from
+these interesting but slightly obscure speculations.
+
+"Oh, that's all right, I assure you," he answered vaguely.
+
+"It's a grand thing to know that Jean's love affair has turned out so
+happily," his father continued. "I can't tell you what a satisfaction it
+is to me."
+
+"Yes, isn't it?" Frank murmured from the clouds.
+
+"I only wish I could feel as sure of Andrew falling on his feet."
+
+Frank's wits were wide awake now.
+
+"Andrew!" he exclaimed. "Good heavens, do you mean to say you don't
+think he has fallen on his feet?"
+
+His father shook his head dubiously.
+
+"But, my dear father, I thought you agreed with me--agreed with all of
+us, I mean--that Ellen's just the--well, the--er--the--er--the nicest
+girl in the world."
+
+"Oh, she's all that."
+
+"Then what on earth do you mean?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw leant confidentially over the arm of his easy-chair.
+
+"Between ourselves, Frank, I'm rather doubtful whether she thinks Andrew
+the nicest man in the world."
+
+"But--but--surely she--er--I mean, they are engaged."
+
+"Frank, my boy, not a word of this to a soul--not even to Jean or Lucas.
+I may be wrong, and I don't want to make mischief; but I have a strong
+suspicion there's another fellow."
+
+"What kind of fellow?"
+
+"A rival."
+
+"Good God!" cried Frank. "Who the devil is he?"
+
+"Hush, hush--not so violently, my dear fellow. It's pretty sickening, of
+course; but till you know who he is, you can't knock him down."
+
+"Well, then, tell me who he is."
+
+"That's just what I'd like to know myself. It's some one in Perthshire."
+
+"How do you know?" demanded Frank.
+
+He controlled his voice, but in his eyes burned a light that boded ill
+for his brother's rival when he caught him.
+
+"Well, you can judge for yourself how I know. Andrew noticed the change
+in Ellen's manner the first time he saw her after she'd been staying
+with us. The only fellow she met in Edinburgh was yourself, so it must
+be some one in Perthshire."
+
+The militant Highlander fell back in his chair with a gasp, and the
+light of battle died out of his eyes.
+
+"Don't you agree with me?" asked his father.
+
+"I--er--I don't know," he stammered.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw had grown none the less shrewd as his weight of years
+was lightened.
+
+"Eh?" he demanded quickly, "what do you know about it? Be perfectly
+frank with me."
+
+"But why should you think that--er--I--"
+
+"Tell me this--do you know of any one who's been paying attention to
+Ellen Berstoun?"
+
+Poor Frank's color grew deeper and deeper.
+
+"There--there was one fellow, I'm ashamed to say."
+
+"Ashamed? Why should you be ash--" Mr. Walkingshaw broke off suddenly
+and gazed at his son with very wide-open eyes. "Frank--it was yourself!"
+
+The treacherous brother hung his head. And then, in the depths of his
+penitence, he heard these extraordinary words--
+
+"My dear, dear chap, this is almost too good to be true!"
+
+"Too _good_!" gasped Frank.
+
+"What did you do--kiss her?"
+
+"No, no; not so bad as that!"
+
+"You let her know, though? There's no mistake about that, eh?"
+
+"I'm afraid I did."
+
+His father took his hand.
+
+"She is yours," said he.
+
+"_Mine?_ But, my dear father, she is Andrew's!"
+
+"She was; but he's such a perfect sumph, I'm thankful she's got quit
+of him."
+
+"What! Is it broken off?"
+
+"It will be."
+
+"An engagement?"
+
+"What's an engagement? Speaking as a lawyer of many years' standing, I
+may tell you candidly that engagements, and agreements, and bargains are
+simply devices for keeping rascals from swindling one another. If honest
+men agree, they don't need a stamped bit of paper; and if they disagree,
+where's the point in leashing them together, like a couple of growling
+dogs? And the case is a thousand times stronger when it comes to a man
+and a girl. I was only afraid I should lose a charming daughter-in-law,
+and now you've taken that weight off my mind. I can't tell you how happy
+I feel!"
+
+Frank's young face was grave and his candid eyes looked straight at his
+father.
+
+"Look here," he replied, "I'm going to do the straight thing by Andrew.
+I don't know that I've ever loved him as much as I ought, but that's all
+the more reason why I shouldn't chisel him now."
+
+"Oh, that's your military idea of discipline and all the rest of it; but
+let me tell you, falling in love is a different kind of thing from
+forming fours."
+
+For the first time the young soldier clearly disapproved of his father's
+rejuvenation.
+
+"Duty is duty," he persisted, "and I tell you honestly I'm not going to
+sneak in behind my brother's back."
+
+"Is Ellen to have nothing to say in the matter? Do you propose to marry
+her to the man she doesn't love, instead of the man she does, without so
+much as giving her the choice?"
+
+The soldier met this flank attack by a change of front.
+
+"But Andrew has the means to marry her, and I've not."
+
+"I'll give you the means," said his father.
+
+Frank began to realize that Duty was in a very tight corner.
+
+"But I haven't any grounds whatever for thinking that Ellen cares for
+me."
+
+"I have."
+
+"You'll have to convince _me_."
+
+"Is it not clearly your duty to settle that point first?"
+
+Frank hesitated.
+
+"Well--perhaps it is."
+
+The crafty strategist smiled.
+
+"We'll settle it!"
+
+"When?"
+
+"At once. Where's a time-table?"
+
+"But look here, my dear father, there's the question of honor to be
+settled after that."
+
+"After that--exactly; I'm with you all the way. But in the meanwhile,
+first get this into your head. An engagement is an affair of two hearts,
+not of two pockets or two heads. If the hearts are off, the bargain's
+off. That's the whole ethics of an engagement. And let me tell you I'm
+not without some experience."
+
+"Heriot!" exclaimed a familiar voice.
+
+The W.S. looked round with a start. There, through the middle of the
+hall, attired in a most becoming traveling coat of fur, advanced the
+sympathetic widow.
+
+"My dear Madge!" cried her betrothed.
+
+Almost in the same instant his off eye signaled to his son a hurried but
+expressive warning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+The hour was late, but in spite of Heriot's kindly suggestion that
+the rapture he anticipated from her conversation should be postponed
+till she had recovered from the fatigues of her journey, his fiancée
+unselfishly preferred to recompense him immediately for his prolonged
+deprivation of her society. He acceded at once to her wishes, with the
+most amiable air imaginable.
+
+"And now, my dear Madge," said he, when they were seated in a secluded
+corner of the lounge, "tell me all your news. In the first place, how's
+my own precious?"
+
+"I am very well, thank you," replied the lady, a little coolly.
+
+"Delighted to hear it!"
+
+"You could, of course, have discovered it sooner by simply writing to
+inquire," she pointed out, with the same air.
+
+"But I did, my dear girl, I did."
+
+"Once."
+
+"Only once, was it? Now, I could have sworn it was twice."
+
+"And did you think twice was often enough?"
+
+"Well, you see, Madge," he explained, "we got engaged in such a deuce
+of a hurry, and I had to rush off next morning, and so on. I didn't
+have time to ask you how often you wished me to write."
+
+"Didn't my last two unanswered letters give you any idea on the
+subject?"
+
+"Two letters, Madge? Now, do you know, I could have sworn it was only
+one."
+
+She looked at him steadily.
+
+"Heriot, what is the meaning of your conduct?"
+
+"To what points in it do you refer, my dear?"
+
+"I may tell you I have heard from Charlie Munro."
+
+It was remarkable how quickly Mr. Walkingshaw had developed. That
+reputation he still clung to when he saw her last was no longer a
+brake upon his downward career.
+
+"Poor old Charlie!" he laughed. "By Jove, Madge, I jolly well hoisted
+him with his own thingamajig!"
+
+She regarded him stonily.
+
+"And what of the business you went to see him about?"
+
+"Did I say I was going to see him on business?"
+
+"You did!"
+
+"Oh, no, no, my dear girl; you must have misunderstood me. Of course, it
+was natural enough; we were both rather carried away by our feelings
+that night, weren't we, Madge?"
+
+He took her hand and pressed it affectionately, but it made no response.
+
+"Why didn't you come to see me when you were in Edinburgh?" she
+inquired.
+
+"I ought to have," he answered, with an expression of the sincerest
+apology. "Yes, I suppose I ought to have."
+
+"You suppose! Didn't it occur to you at the time?"
+
+"Oh, yes, it occurred. In fact, my difficulty was to keep myself away
+from you."
+
+"May I ask why it was necessary to make the effort?"
+
+"Well, the fact is," he explained, "I had a little scheme for Jean which
+I wanted to keep a secret--"
+
+"And you couldn't trust me!" she interrupted.
+
+"A charming woman and a secret?" he smiled archly. "My dear girl, your
+rosy lips would have gone chatter, chatter, chatter all over the town!"
+
+She snatched her hand away with some degree of violence.
+
+"You talk like an idiot!" she replied.
+
+"My dear Madge! This is your own Heriot?"
+
+She took out a little handkerchief of lace and gently touched first one
+eye and then the other.
+
+"I don't believe you love me!"
+
+Heriot's kind heart was sincerely moved.
+
+"I adore you!"
+
+A faint smile at last appeared upon her face.
+
+"How can you possibly when you go on like this?"
+
+"Like what?"
+
+The smile died away and a quick frown took its place.
+
+"Heriot! Do you mean to say you think your behavior has looked like
+loving me?"
+
+"It's the heart that counts, Madge, not the behavior," he assured her.
+
+She sat up in her chair with an air of decision.
+
+"The behavior does count; so please don't talk as though you thought I
+was a fool. For your own sake, for the sake of your reputation and your
+family, you've got to come back with me to-morrow!"
+
+He seized her hand.
+
+"My dear Madge, that's just what I meant to do."
+
+He rose and bent over her with every symptom of affection.
+
+"And now you must really go to bed. You're looking tired; really you
+are. It quite distresses me."
+
+She still kept her seat.
+
+"You promise to come with me?"
+
+"I assure you I've got to come."
+
+"I must have your promise."
+
+He looked hurt.
+
+"Hang it, Madge, can't you trust me?"
+
+"No, I cannot. Give me your promise."
+
+His air of affection decidedly diminished, but he gave the pledge--
+
+"I promise to go north to-morrow."
+
+"I can really trust you?"
+
+He began to frown.
+
+"Implicitly."
+
+She rose at last, and they went together towards the lift.
+
+"When do you breakfast?" she asked.
+
+He answered somewhat stiffly--
+
+"There is no necessity of starting before two o'clock. Breakfast when
+you like."
+
+"We shall say ten o'clock, then."
+
+"That is fairly late, isn't it?"
+
+"You forget that I have had a tiring day, and perhaps you hardly realize
+whose conduct has tired me. Good-night."
+
+"Good-night," he replied in an unimpassioned voice.
+
+As the widow ascended she told herself that she had adopted entirely the
+right attitude. She might relent to-morrow, but till then it was well he
+should be deprived of the sunshine of her smiles.
+
+Next morning at the hour of 10:15 she stepped out of the lift to find
+Jean waiting in the hall. She greeted Mrs. Dunbar with a markedly
+composed air.
+
+"I hope you won't mind breakfasting alone?" she said.
+
+It was evident that the widow did mind.
+
+"Do you mean to say your father has actually breakfasted without me?"
+
+"Unfortunately, he had to."
+
+"Had to!"
+
+"He and Frank found they must catch the ten o'clock train."
+
+Mrs. Dunbar gasped.
+
+"He--has gone?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But he promised to go with me!"
+
+"I understood him to say," said Jean quietly, "that he had merely
+promised to go north."
+
+"Oh, indeed! Then he has run away?"
+
+"From whom?" asked Jean demurely.
+
+The widow bit her lip.
+
+"I consider his conduct simply disgraceful--"
+
+Jean interrupted her quickly--
+
+"I had rather not discuss my father's conduct. Don't let me keep you
+from breakfast."
+
+Mrs. Dunbar remained standing in silence, a magnificent statue of
+displeasure. In a moment she inquired--
+
+"And why are you waiting here?"
+
+"Father thought you might like my company on the journey."
+
+"How very thoughtful of him! Then you go at two?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The widow gazed at her intently.
+
+"I can hardly believe this of Heriot. Is all this his own idea?"
+
+Jean flushed slightly, but answered as demurely as ever--
+
+"It is his wish."
+
+"Ah, I see!" exclaimed Mrs. Dunbar bitterly, "I thought there was a
+woman's hand in this affair."
+
+"Do you mean another woman's hand?"
+
+The injured lady began uneasily to realize that there was a fresh
+factor in the situation. But who would have dreamt of little Jean
+Walkingshaw being dangerous? As Madge traveled north that afternoon,
+uncompromisingly secluded behind a lady's journal, she could not get
+out of her head the uncomfortable fancy that her trim, fair-haired
+escort sat like a protecting deity (heathen and sinister) between
+Heriot and all who desired, even with the most loving purpose, to
+chasten his faults and moderate the exuberance of his too virile
+spirit.
+
+Jean herself was warmly conscious that some such duty was surely laid
+upon her. With what less reward could she repay all he had done for her?
+It will be discovered, however, from the succeeding instalment of facts,
+that though the guardian angel of Heriot Walkingshaw might go the pace
+with him thus far, it would probably have been beyond the power even of
+a genuinely celestial spirit to keep at his shoulder when he spurted.
+
+
+
+
+PART IV
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Archibald Berstoun of that ilk ("of y' ilk" was the form that most
+delicately tickled his palate) still dwelt in the fortalice built by
+his ancestors at a time when to the average Scot the national tartan
+suggested but an alien barbarian who stole his cattle; and the national
+bagpipe, the national heather, and the national whisky were merely the
+noise the brute made, the cover that preserved him from the gallows, and
+the stuff that gave you your one chance of catching him asleep.
+
+(A few reflections on the whirligig of time were here inserted, but have
+since been omitted, as they were found to occur in a modified form
+elsewhere.)
+
+The castle stood in the lowland part of Perthshire, and was erected by
+the second of that ilk as a tribute to the dexterity with which his
+highland neighbors had removed the effects and cut the throat of the
+first. It was a sober and simple building, steep-roofed and battlemented
+at the top, turreted at the angles, and pierced with a few narrow
+windows so irregularly scattered about its gray harled walls as
+to suggest that no two rooms could possibly be on the same level.
+Naturally, the architectural genius who illumines the quiet annals of
+every landed family had knocked out a number of French windows into the
+lawn and constructed the first story of a Chinese pagoda, in which he
+proposed to store Etruscan curios with an aviary above; but his
+descendants had fortunately lacked the funds to complete these
+improvements. In fact, the stump of the pagoda was now so entirely
+overgrown with ivy that it had become the traditional fortress of
+Agricola.
+
+This ancient habitation of a hard-fighting race was framed on two sides
+by a garden that looked as old as the walls which towered above it, and
+was well-nigh as simple and sober. Dark clipped yews, and smooth green
+grass, and graceful old-world flowers were its chief and sufficient
+ingredients. The genius who designed the pagoda had not yet turned his
+attention to the garden when Providence checked his career.
+
+A wood of black Scotch firs stretched for a long way beyond this
+pleasant garden, and struck a stern northern note befitting the gnarled
+battlements; while, nearer the house, gray beech stems towered out of
+the brown dead leaves below up to the brown live buds a hundred feet
+nearer the clouds.
+
+On the remaining two sides of the castle you were not supposed to bestow
+attention, since after the old custom the home farm approached more
+closely than is fashionable nowadays; though to the curious they were
+the sides best worth attention, owing to the cultured pagoda-builder
+having deemed it beneath his dignity to molest them.
+
+One afternoon in early spring Ellen Berstoun walked slowly down a
+sheltered garden path. She had been singularly moody of late--so
+distressed, indeed, and so little like a lucky girl whose wedding might
+be fixed for any day she chose to name, that her five unmarried sisters
+held many private debates on the causes of her conduct. The three next
+to her in years expressed grave apprehensions lest the very fairly
+creditable marriage arranged for her should after all fall through.
+Ellen was not treating Andrew well, they complained; while on the other
+hand, the two youngest, being as yet irresponsibly romantic, declared
+vigorously that they had sooner dear Ellen remained single to the end of
+her days than introduced such a long-lipped, fat-cheeked brother-in-law
+into the family.
+
+It was a part of poor Ellen's burden that she was acutely conscious of
+the duty which her parents and all her aunts assured her she owed these
+sisters. But, on the other hand, to share the remainder of her existence
+with Andrew Walkingshaw--There rose vividly a picture of that most
+respectable of partners, and the emotion attendant on this vision drew
+from her a sigh that ought to have convinced the most skeptical she was
+very hard hit indeed.
+
+It was at this moment that she spied a lad approaching from the house.
+
+"Well, Jimmy?" she inquired.
+
+With an appearance of some caution, he handed her a note.
+
+"It was to be gi'en to yoursel' privately, miss," he said mysteriously,
+and turned to go.
+
+"Is there no answer?" she asked.
+
+"He said I wasna to bide for an answer."
+
+He hurried off as though his directions had been peremptory, and Ellen
+opened the letter. It was written upon the notepaper of a local inn, and
+if she was surprised to discover the writer, she was still more
+astonished by the contents.
+
+     "MY DEAR ELLEN," it ran, "I should take it as a very great favor
+     indeed if you would come immediately on receiving this and meet me
+     at the farther end of the wood below your garden. Follow the path,
+     and you will find me waiting for you. The matter is of such
+     importance that I make no apologies for suggesting this romantic
+     proceeding!--With love, yours affectionately,
+
+                              "J. HERIOT WALKINGSHAW.
+
+     "P.S.--Don't say a word to one of your family. Secrecy is
+     absolutely essential."
+
+Ellen stood lost in perplexity. Rumors had reached her of Mr.
+Walkingshaw's recent eccentricity. The request was entirely out of
+keeping with all her previous acquaintance with him; that point of
+exclamation after "romantic proceeding" struck her as uncomfortably
+dissimilar to his usual methods of composition. Ought she not to consult
+one of her parents, or at least a sister? And yet the postscript was too
+explicit to be neglected.
+
+For a few minutes she hesitated. Then she made up her mind; her warm
+heart could not bear to disappoint anybody; and besides, Mr. Heriot
+Walkingshaw, however odd his conduct might have been lately was such a
+pompously respectable--indeed venerable--old gentleman that a maiden
+might surely trust herself with him alone, even in a grove of trees. And
+so, in a furtive and backward-glancing manner, she stole into the wood.
+It was an unusual way of approaching one's father's man of business and
+one's financé's parent, but Ellen consoled herself by the reflection
+that an experienced Writer to the Signet should best know how these
+things were done.
+
+She hurried down a narrow, winding glade, lined by countless slender
+columns supporting far overhead a roof of millions of dark green needles
+swaying and murmuring in the breeze. Suddenly sunshine and green fields
+filled the opening of the glade, and as suddenly a tall gentleman
+stepped from behind a tree and politely raised a fashionable felt hat.
+In all essential features he was the image of Mr. Heriot Walkingshaw,
+only that he was so very much younger.
+
+"Well, my dear Ellen!" he exclaimed heartily.
+
+She stared at him, too amazed for speech.
+
+"Am I really so changed already?" he inquired with a smile. "That shows
+the beneficial effect of seeing you."
+
+Even though his manner had altered as much as his appearance, she found
+the change so agreeable that she overlooked its strangeness. She smiled
+back at him.
+
+"I am glad to see you looking so well," she said.
+
+He beamed upon her in what he sincerely meant for a paternal manner.
+
+"You, my dear child, look ripping! My hat, you are pretty! Ellen dear,
+my only wish is to make you as happy as you are bonny."
+
+She looked at him searchingly, and her voice had a note of guarded
+alarm.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+His air became sympathy itself.
+
+"My dear girl, I have been greatly distressed to hear that all has not
+been going smoothly with you and Andrew."
+
+She gave him a quick glance and then looked away.
+
+"Indeed!" she answered a little coldly. "Who told you that?"
+
+"I can read it in my son's altered health."
+
+She looked at him in surprise, but without anxiety.
+
+"I didn't know there was anything the matter with him."
+
+"He had to hasten up to London for a change of air."
+
+"I hope it did him good," she said indifferently.
+
+"My dear girl, have you no wish to hurry to his bedside?"
+
+"I'm afraid I shouldn't be any good if I did."
+
+"And you wouldn't find him in bed, either," smiled Mr. Walkingshaw, with
+a change of manner. "No, no, Ellen; you needn't pretend you're in love
+with Andrew if that's all the concern you feel. And I may tell you at
+once that he's as tough as ever, and as great a fool. The fellow is
+totally unworthy of you, so don't you worry your head about him any
+longer."
+
+He bent over her confidentially.
+
+"Supposing some one were to cut him out, eh?"
+
+"Some one--" she stammered. "Who?"
+
+"Guess!" he smiled.
+
+She did guess; and it was a shocking surmise.
+
+"I--I have no idea," she fibbed.
+
+"Oh, come now, hang it, look me in the eye and repeat that!"
+
+For an instant, she looked into that roguish eye, and her worst
+suspicions were confirmed.
+
+"Mr. Walkingshaw," she answered, with trembling candor, "I feel very
+much honored, but really I must ask you not to--not to say anything
+more. Our ages--oh, everything--I couldn't! I had better go back now."
+
+The philanthropic father gasped.
+
+"Ellen! stop! My dear child, I don't mean myself! Good heavens, I am
+far too old for a young girl like you!"
+
+Yet it was at that moment that he suddenly realized he wasn't.
+
+"Then--then what--" she began, and stopped, overwhelmed with confusion.
+
+Hurriedly he endeavored to put things once more upon a paternal footing.
+
+"My fault, my dear Ellen, my fault entirely. Naturally you
+thought--er--yes, yes, it was quite natural. I--I put it badly. I didn't
+think what I was saying. The fact is, I've been"--a brilliant
+inspiration suddenly illumined the chaos of his mind--"I've been so
+troubled about poor Frank!"
+
+Her expression altogether changed.
+
+"What's the matter?" she exclaimed.
+
+His mind calmed down. Composing his countenance, he shook his head
+sadly.
+
+"I don't think he'll get over it."
+
+She laid her hand upon his arm with a quick, involuntary gesture.
+
+"But what has happened? Tell me!"
+
+The wisdom of age and the shrewdness of youth twinkled together in Mr.
+Walkingshaw's eye, but he managed to retain a decorously solemn air.
+
+"You are really concerned this time?"
+
+"Of course! I--I mean, naturally."
+
+He drew her hand through his arm and led her along the fringe of the
+pine woods.
+
+"Come and see," he said gently. "Poor boy he's had a bad fall."
+
+"What! Is he here--with you?"
+
+"Yes--yes," he answered, with an absent and melancholy air.
+
+He led her a few paces into the trees, and there, seated on a fallen
+trunk, they saw the victim of fate smoking a cigarette with a meditative
+air. He sprang to his feet with a light in his eye that might have been
+the result of some acute disaster, but scarcely looked like it.
+
+"Frank, my boy," said his father, "I have just been explaining to Ellen
+that you have fallen"--he turned to the girl with a merry air--"in
+love!" he chuckled, and the next moment they were listening to his
+flying footsteps and looking at one another.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+High overhead the pines murmured gently, and Mr. Walkingshaw, strolling
+through the quiet colonnades below in solitude and shade, heard the
+strangest messages whispered down by those riotous tree-tops. He was no
+longer even middle-aged! Or at least his heart certainly was not. It
+seemed to keep a decade or so younger than his body, and Heaven knew
+that was growing younger fast enough! At this rate how much longer could
+he play the beneficent parent? Good Lord, he had jolly nearly fallen
+head over ears in love with sweet Ellen Berstoun in the course of five
+minutes' conversation! She wasn't a day too old for Heriot W. That's to
+say, he could do with a lassie of that age fine, and, by Gad, he
+shouldn't wonder but Ellen mightn't have rather cottoned to him if her
+heart had been free. She looked deuced coy when she thought he was
+proposing. Yes, a girl like Ellen was the ticket for him. But in that
+case, what about Madge?
+
+For several minutes Mr. Walkingshaw stood very solemnly studying the
+bark on an entirely ordinary pine, concluding his scrutiny by hitting it
+a sharp smack with his walking-stick and turning away from the sight of
+it with apparent distaste. However, a minute or two later he seemed to
+find one he liked better, for he placed his back against it, removed his
+hat, and gazed upwards at the softly murmuring branches. Once more their
+whispers made him smile. Sufficient for the day were the difficulties
+thereof! That was the way to look at it. Meanwhile, the spring was
+young, and the little flowers in the wood were young, and the blue sky
+that showed in peeps through the swinging tree-tops looked as young as
+any of them, and certainly it was a young and lusty breeze that swayed
+them. By Jingo, what excellent company they all were for him!
+
+And then he heard another murmuring sound, coming this time from behind
+him. He held his breath and caught the words--
+
+"Ellen! I love you--I love you!"
+
+He peeped round the tree, and for an instant saw them. A most gratifying
+tribute to his diplomacy--but devilish disturbing to a young fellow
+without a girl! Hurriedly he snapped a twig; he snapped another; he
+broke a branch; he whistled, he coughed, he shouted. And then they
+looked up, vaguely surprised to find there was another person in the
+world.
+
+"Well, Frank," said his father, as they walked back together towards
+their inn, "are you not feeling happy now, my boy, eh?"
+
+"Happy!" exclaimed Frank. "I'm stupefied with happiness!"
+
+As Heriot Walkingshaw strode between the spring breeze and the murmuring
+pines, his son's arm through his, listening to his gratitude and Ellen's
+praises, he too felt happier than ever before in his life. What a lot of
+pleasure he had learned how to give. And the way to give it was so
+simple once you found it out. Apparently you had merely to get in
+sympathy with people, and then do the things which naturally, under
+those circumstances, you would both like to be done. There was really
+nothing in it at all; still, it was jolly well worth doing.
+
+Only as they neared the inn did a qualm begin to trouble Frank.
+
+"It's deuced rough luck on Andrew, losing that girl," he said suddenly.
+"Hang it, it would kill _me_!"
+
+"It's only losing his money that'll ever hurt Andrew," replied his
+father cheerfully. "Don't you worry about what he'll say."
+
+Unfortunately, Mr. Walkingshaw forgot that the provision for this happy
+marriage was, in fact, coming indirectly from Andrew's pocket. Even the
+youngest of us cannot foresee everything, or Heriot would not have been
+humming "Gin a laddie kiss a lassie," quite so lightheartedly.
+
+"I must say I funk having it out with him," remarked Frank.
+
+"Just you leave it all to me. I'm a match for Andrew any day."
+
+It would have been well if Mr. Walkingshaw had "touched wood" as he made
+this vaunt; but at that moment his confidence was so serene that he felt
+master of any emergency conceivable by man.
+
+"Andrew's not the mate for Ellen," he said presently. "The young are for
+each other, Frank; that's the law of nature."
+
+He smiled to himself.
+
+"I learnt that this afternoon. By Jove, what a pretty girl Ellen is!"
+
+And then again his young heart remembered the sympathetic widow, and he
+stopped smiling.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+The backbone of our country is that band of civic heroes who, when
+turmoil rages and disaster threatens, are the last men to desert the
+desk. In this glorious company Andrew Walkingshaw was numbered. His
+father might tear up and down the country like a disreputable whirlwind,
+his widowed relative fume and plot, his sister disgrace the family by an
+unsuitable engagement, his betrothed leave his affectionate letters
+unanswered, his own soul writhe in decorous anguish at these calamities,
+but Casabianca himself was not more faithful to his post than he. It is
+true, indeed, that he had once tried the alternative policy and chased
+that cyclone, but he had taken to heart the lesson, and thenceforth
+closed his ears to disquieting rumors, his eyes to distressing symptoms,
+and went about his work, if possible, more conscientiously than ever.
+That was the proper way to get through business--conscientiously. He was
+sickened with the people (clients of some eminence, but evidently with a
+screw loose) who kept deferring their more important concerns till the
+senior partner returned with his infernal headlong methods. Let them
+wait if they liked! Let them take their business elsewhere if they were
+such fools! Deliberately and calmly _he_ had washed his hands of his
+senior partner. That was the end of him so far as he was concerned, said
+Andrew to himself. But alas! you may wash your hands of a tornado, but
+supposing it retorts by blowing down your house?
+
+It was about nine in the evening, and he sat by himself, severely
+scrutinizing the pleadings drawn up by his clerk for a forthcoming case,
+connected with so large a sum of money that it was a pleasure merely to
+read the imposing figures. The ladies were upstairs in the drawing-room.
+So long as Mrs. Dunbar was among them, he was not likely to show his
+face _there_.
+
+The door opened, and he turned, frowning at the interruption, and then
+sprang up with a troubled eye. It was his father certainly; but what a
+remarkable change since he had seen him last! For the first time Andrew
+realized the full enormity of his conduct in growing younger. His very
+appearance had become a crying scandal.
+
+"Sweating away at your old papers?" inquired Heriot pleasantly.
+
+Andrew stiffly resumed his seat.
+
+"Yes, I am busy," he replied, and took up the pleadings again.
+
+But his father ignored the hint. Straddling comfortably before the fire,
+he remarked--
+
+"Frank and I have been up to Perthshire."
+
+Andrew looked up quickly, but merely answered--
+
+"Oh, indeed?"
+
+"We've been seeing Ellen."
+
+"What about?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw threw himself into a chair.
+
+"My boy," said he, with the air of friendly commiseration which he felt
+that the occasion undoubtedly demanded, "I find I was right about your
+rival."
+
+Andrew remained calm, though not quite so calm as before.
+
+"Do you mean there's some one else after her?"
+
+"He's got her."
+
+The calm departed.
+
+"Got! What the deuce d'ye mean?"
+
+"She has chosen another, Andrew."
+
+"Chosen! But she's no choice left her. She's engaged to me."
+
+"She was engaged to you. She's now engaged to him."
+
+"To _him_? Who the dev--er--what are you driving at? Who's the man?"
+
+"Frank."
+
+"Frank!"
+
+Andrew stared at his father incredulously.
+
+"I don't believe a word of it."
+
+"Well, you may ask Frank if you like; but I assure you you can take my
+word for it."
+
+It was characteristic of Andrew's robust mind that, instead of wasting
+time in noisy vaporings and sentimental sorrow, it seized at once the
+weak point in the case.
+
+"But he can't afford to marry."
+
+"Oh, I'll see to that."
+
+"_You'll_ see!" shouted Andrew. "Do you mean to say _you've_ had a
+finger in the pie?"
+
+"Four fingers and a thumb," smiled his parent.
+
+Once more Andrew, without waste of words in expostulation or commentary,
+summarized the situation in a sentence--
+
+"This is fair damnable!"
+
+"Come, come, my dear fellow," said Mr. Walkingshaw soothingly. "I owe
+you an explanation, of course, but when you've heard it, I know you'll
+agree I've done the right thing."
+
+"An explanation!" exclaimed Andrew sardonically. "Go on, let's hear it."
+
+"I can give you the gist of it in a sentence: she loves Frank, and she
+doesn't love you. Now, in that case, which of you ought she to marry?"
+
+"That's nothing to do with it--"
+
+"What! love's nothing to do with marriage?"
+
+"When a woman's once engaged, she's got to implement her promise."
+
+"Whether it makes her happy or miserable?"
+
+"Who was miserable, I'd like to know?"
+
+"Ellen."
+
+"It's the first I've heard of it."
+
+"Do you mean to say you couldn't see it for yourself?"
+
+"No, I could not; and even if she was, there's not the shadow of an
+excuse for your conduct. You're just making a mess of everything you
+meddle with. Getting me jilted like this! What do you suppose people
+will say? What'll they be thinking of me? Oh, good Lord!"
+
+The unhappy young man brooded somberly. Mr. Walkingshaw lit a cigar,
+and then settled himself down to remove by gentle argument the cloud
+that temporarily obscured his son's serenity.
+
+"Just look at the thing for a moment in a quiet and reasonable light,
+Andrew. Happiness, as you are well aware, is the chief aim of humanity.
+Damn it, our religion teaches us that--or practically that. A kind of
+warm and amiable gleefulness--that's the ideal. Now, how can a young
+girl like Ellen be happy or gleeful married to a sober old codger like
+you, eh? Man, the thing's clean impossible. She's no more suited to you
+than a lace cover to a coal-scuttle. Well, then what's the obvious thing
+to do? Hand her over to a brisk young fellow who can do her justice, of
+course. Besides, just think of your own brother pining away in the--what
+do they call it?--torrid zone, all for love of a girl who's pining away
+for love of him. The thing's totally illogical. A society of hedgehogs
+would have more sense than to allow an arrangement like that. You see my
+point now, don't you?"
+
+"I've heard you say with your own lips," retorted Andrew, "that all a
+girl required was a comfortable home and a husband who knew his own
+mind."
+
+"But you must remember," explained his father, "I was an old fool then."
+
+Andrew sprang to his feet with a wry and bitter face.
+
+"You certainly haven't the qualities of age now. I never heard such
+daft-like rubbish in my life. For Heaven's sake, just try to use any
+common sense you've got left. Frank will never have enough money to keep
+her properly."
+
+"Ah, but naturally I mean to alter my arrangements."
+
+Gradually the full possibilities of the situation were revealing
+themselves to the well-regulated mind of the junior partner.
+
+"You mean to change your will?"
+
+"I do."
+
+Yet another horrid possibility showed its head.
+
+"And are you going to alter Jean's share too, so that this precious
+Vernon fellow may have something to squander?"
+
+"Something respectable to live on," corrected his parent. "You mustn't
+starve art, you know."
+
+Andrew stared at him in silence, and when he spoke, it was with the air
+of a much-wronged worm which has deliberately resolved to turn at last.
+
+"I'm not wanting any of your Ellen Berstouns. If she's played this trick
+on me, that's enough of her. But I tell you plainly I'm not going to let
+you rob me to keep a pack of worthless painters and people out of the
+gutter, without taking some steps. I warn you of that."
+
+"My dear Andrew," said his father reproachfully, "that's hardly the
+attitude of a professing Christian. Just think, now; is it? You'll
+easily find a decent, quiet woman with a bit of money and no objection
+to hearing every day for an hour or two how you've been worried by your
+clients and swindled by your father, and I do honestly believe you'll
+get as near happiness as you're capable of. That's common sense, now;
+isn't it?"
+
+The slamming of the door answered him.
+
+"What a sulky fellow he is!" said Heriot to himself.
+
+Yet so conscious was he of the rectitude of his intentions, and so
+confiding had his disposition grown, that it never crossed his mind to
+beware of an infuriated lawyer. Besides, when Andrew had slept over it,
+he would surely realize how unanswerable were his father's arguments.
+
+"We'll see the old stick-in-the-mud dancing at Frank's wedding!"
+thought he. "There's no vice in Andrew; only a bit of obstinacy.
+It's all bark and no bite with him."
+
+With these amiable reflections he speedily consoled himself for the
+discomfort of any little temporary friction. And then the door opened
+gently.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+"I heard you had come back again," said Mrs. Dunbar.
+
+She closed the door as gently as she had opened it. The action
+pathetically expressed the quiet sorrow of a much-wronged woman's
+heart.
+
+"Yes," said Heriot gallantly, "I'm back again to Scotland, home and
+beauty. Ha, ha! Now that was quite pretty, wasn't it?"
+
+But her black eyes declined to sparkle, as she glided silently to a
+chair. Out of the corner of his own eye her lover looked at her
+critically.
+
+"I'm delighted to see you again, Madge," he went on; but his words had a
+hollow ring, and his eye continued to express more doubt than passion.
+
+"Have you no apology to offer me?" she inquired, with the same ominous
+calm.
+
+"For what, my dear lady?"
+
+She started a little and glanced at him apprehensively. "My dear lady"
+hardly indicated love's divinest frenzy.
+
+"For treating me shamefully!"
+
+"This is strong language," he smiled indulgently. "Tell me now, I say,
+just tell me what I've done."
+
+Thus invited, the lady described his conduct in leaving her alone and
+unprotected in a London hotel, to the neglect of his affectionate
+assurances and the shame and confusion of herself, in language which did
+no more than justice to the theme.
+
+"But I left Jean to look after you," he protested.
+
+"When I want your daughter to look after me I shall ask you for her
+assistance," she replied tartly. "You broke your word to me, and you
+can't deny it."
+
+"I do deny it," he replied, with dignity. "I told you I should travel
+north--"
+
+"Oh!" she interrupted, with scathing contempt, "you were very
+straightforward and gentlemanly, I know!"
+
+He looked at her ever more critically. A recollection of Ellen and the
+pine-wood returned forcibly.
+
+"Put it as you will," he replied philosophically, and turned towards the
+fire.
+
+She watched him jealously.
+
+"But why did you run away?" she persisted. "Where have you been since?
+Heriot, I insist upon knowing that--I insist!"
+
+She rose and came towards him. He took her hand and pressed it gently.
+
+"I shall tell you all," he said, as he led her back to her chair and
+drew another towards it. When they were about three feet apart he sat
+down himself and bent confidentially towards her. Yet he did not attempt
+to bridge entirely the intervening space.
+
+"I have been up to Perthshire," he began, "assisting dear Ellen Berstoun
+to break off her engagement with Andrew."
+
+Mrs. Dunbar sat up with a much more alert expression.
+
+"I am glad to hear it," she said, with decision.
+
+"I discovered that Frank and she loved one another. I am very glad to
+say he is now engaged to her instead."
+
+She smiled at last.
+
+"Do tell me what Andrew said!"
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"I'm afraid he is somewhat unreasonably annoyed."
+
+She smiled more brightly still.
+
+"How very good for him! Really, Heriot, you have done a very sensible
+thing indeed."
+
+Heriot smiled back.
+
+"It seemed to me," said he, "that there was really too much disparity in
+years. The young should marry the young, Madge."
+
+"I agree with you entirely."
+
+It was his smile that now seemed to indicate an increasing satisfaction.
+
+"You agree also that under those circumstances it is no longer the duty
+of two people to marry, even if they have unfortunately become engaged?"
+
+"I think it would only lead to wretchedness if they did. Honestly, I
+don't feel in the least sorry for Andrew. In fact, I thoroughly agree
+that people ought to have their engagements broken off for them if they
+haven't the sense to see they are unsuitable for themselves."
+
+Heriot received this assurance with evident pleasure. His manner grew
+more confidential still.
+
+"Madge," he said, "I think it is time I made you a very serious
+confession."
+
+Her smile departed.
+
+"You may have noticed," he continued, "a certain bloom, so to speak,
+upon me, a sort of freshness, and so on. Madge, it is the bloom of
+youth."
+
+She grew uneasy.
+
+"Oh, really?"
+
+"It is a literal, physical fact. I am rapidly approaching thirty."
+
+She moved into the farthest corner of her chair, but made no other
+comment.
+
+"You will thus see that it is merely a question of time before there
+will be an even greater disparity of years between you and me than
+between Ellen and Andrew."
+
+Her expression changed entirely.
+
+"Heriot!" she exclaimed indignantly.
+
+"Yes, Madge, I grieve deeply to resign the hopes of happiness I had
+formed on a life spent in your society, but alas! I must. Your adult
+charms cannot be thrown away upon an unappreciative youth; it would be a
+tragedy."
+
+"You are many years older than I!"
+
+"I was a short time ago, but to-day we are roughly speaking,
+twins--though with this difference, that as I am looking forward to a
+strenuous youth, and you to a handsome old age, naturally I feel a
+chicken compared with you. But then think of the next year or two, when
+I shall perhaps be playing football, and you will find it no longer
+possible to keep your gray hairs so artistically brushed beneath your
+black tresses: think of that, Madge!"
+
+"Are you out of your mind?" she gasped.
+
+"On the contrary, I have never been clearer-headed in my life."
+
+"Then," she exclaimed wrathfully, "you are merely inventing a ridiculous
+fable to excuse your shuffling out of your engagement!"
+
+"My dear lady," he replied pacifically, "shall I jump over this chair to
+convince you?"
+
+"_Nothing_ would convince me."
+
+"Ah," he said, with a friendly smile, "I see that you want to have me
+whether I'm a suitable mate or not, whether my feelings have changed--"
+
+"I certainly do not!" she interrupted.
+
+"Then in that case shall we call it off?"
+
+He rose and picked up an evening paper.
+
+She tried the resource of tears. The spectacle of a handsome woman
+weeping had brought him temporarily to his senses once before. But this
+time, though his manner was as kind as any widow could desire, his words
+brought the unfortunate lady no more consolation than his conduct.
+
+"My dear Madge, just look at the thing sensibly. Surely you are old
+enough by this time to take a practical view of what after all is a very
+simple situation. You laid down the law yourself not five minutes ago,
+and laid it down very justly. If two people are unsuitably mated, the
+engagement should be broken off. Very well; just try to realize for a
+moment what it means to marry a man who is getting fuller and fuller of
+beans all the time--at your age, mark you. The fact is, we are just like
+two trains rushing in opposite directions. For a moment we may be side
+by side, and then--whit!--we have passed each other and are getting a
+couple of miles farther apart every minute."
+
+Even this graphic allegory failed to dry her tears.
+
+"You are deserting me--you are breaking my heart!" she wailed.
+
+"Hush, hush," he answered soothingly; "on the contrary, I am sparing
+you--sparing you no end of anxiety."
+
+She looked at him like a tragedy queen.
+
+"Have you no thought of how my reputation will suffer, Heriot?"
+
+"How can it suffer? Nobody knows we've been engaged."
+
+"Do you suppose they haven't guessed?"
+
+"Not from anything I've said or done, I can assure you."
+
+She sprang up indignantly.
+
+"Have you no sense of honor?"
+
+"Look here," he answered, with his most ingratiating manner, "I'll be a
+son to you, Madge--an affectionate, dutiful--"
+
+"You coward!" she cried.
+
+Heriot found himself alone in his library with his engagement
+satisfactorily ended.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+Andrew had retired to the dining-room. Once the day's eating was over,
+this apartment, with its vast space of dignified gloom, its black marble
+mantelpiece, and the cloth of indigo plushette which now covered the
+table, made the most congenial refuge conceivable. His thoughts were in
+exact harmony with everything there, from the Venetian blinds to the
+portrait of his great-grandmother. The only discordant element was the
+presence of a few errant bread-crumbs, and happily they were under the
+table.
+
+It was to this lair that he was tracked by Madge Dunbar. She never
+paused to ask if she disturbed him, or gave him any chance of protest,
+but advancing straight up to him, exclaimed--
+
+"Your father is off his head!"
+
+The junior partner eyed her warily, divided between suspicion and a glow
+of sympathy with her opinion.
+
+"What has he done now?" he inquired gloomily.
+
+"He has treated me exactly as he has treated you!"
+
+The sympathy deepened; the suspicion began to ooze away; but all he
+remarked was, "Oh?"
+
+He was indeed a magnificently cautious man.
+
+"What can we do?" she cried.
+
+Andrew scrutinized her carefully. She might be fibbing; she might be up
+to some of her tricks again; this might even be a move arranged with his
+father. One could not be too prudent.
+
+"What do you propose to do?" he asked.
+
+"Bring him to his senses if it's possible: if not--Oh, Andrew, his
+conduct is infamous! I don't care what we do to punish--I mean to
+restrain him."
+
+At last, after many days' abstinence, the junior partner smiled. It was
+not a very wide, nor in the least a merry smile; his cheeks bulged only
+slightly under its gentle pressure, and the satisfaction which smiles
+traditionally notify seemed savored with a squeeze or two of lemon. But
+it marked the beginning of a new coalition, an ominous disturbance of
+the balance of power.
+
+"That is exactly the point I have under consideration myself," he said.
+"The difficulty is, how is it to be managed?"
+
+She seated herself within twelve feet of him, and yet he did not shrink
+from her now with modest mistrust.
+
+"It seems to me perfectly obvious what we should do. Just offer him an
+alternative."
+
+"What alternative?" asked Andrew.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile, Mr. Walkingshaw was spending one of the happiest evenings he
+remembered. There was indeed some slight constraint in the drawing-room
+so long as his sister remained there, but when, after a series of sighs
+which punctuated some twenty minutes' pointed silence, she at last bade
+them a depressed good-night, the three happy lovers gave rein to their
+hearts. Heriot gave the loosest rein of all. It almost seemed as if a
+lover set at liberty was even happier than a lover just engaged. He had
+that air of animated relief noticeable in the escaped victims of a
+conscientious dentist. As for his children, they adored him little less
+than they adored two other people who were not there.
+
+Yet once or twice Jean fell thoughtful. At last she said--
+
+"I wonder whether we ought to go out to the Comyns' to-morrow after
+all?"
+
+"My dear girl, why not? You'll have a very pleasant time there; and
+anyhow, it's too late to write and tell them you aren't coming."
+
+"We could wire in the morning," she said. "Frank, do you think we ought
+to go?"
+
+He looked a little surprised, but answered readily, "Not if you don't
+want to."
+
+"But why not go?" their father repeated.
+
+She hesitated. "Are you quite sure Andrew and Madge won't--won't try to
+be unpleasant?"
+
+"Let them try if they like!" laughed Heriot. "But I assure you, my dear
+girl, I was so reasonable--so unanswerable, in fact--that they simply
+can't feel annoyed for more than a few hours. Hang it, they are very
+nice good people at heart. Just give 'em time to let the proper point of
+view sink in, and they'll be chirpy as sparrows again. Besides, what
+good could you do by staying at home? The Comyns have a nice place;
+you'll have a capital time. I insist on your going."
+
+"Very well, then," said Jean.
+
+Yet she could hardly picture Andrew and her cousin quite as chirpy as
+sparrows.
+
+And all this time, beneath the very floor of the room where they
+laughed, the plans of the coalition ripened.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+In the course of breakfast upon the following morning, Heriot startled
+his junior partner by announcing his intention of putting in a strenuous
+day's work at the office. Andrew exchanged a curious glance with Mrs.
+Dunbar, and then merely inquired--
+
+"When will you be back?"
+
+"Four o'clock," said Heriot cheerfully. "Quite long enough hours for a
+man of my age" (he smiled humorously at his son). "Of course there's
+sure to be a lot of things to put right, and so on" (Andrew raised a
+startled eye), "but I'll polish 'em off by four."
+
+He ate a remarkably hearty breakfast and strode off blithely, this time
+a few minutes ahead of his partner. It was an even more singular thing
+that Andrew should linger to confer once more with the lady he had so
+lately regarded as the impersonation of everything suspicious.
+
+Another curious incident happened later in the day. At lunch-time the
+junior partner left the office, and, without giving an explanation,
+remained absent through the afternoon. Not that Heriot missed him. He
+smoked and wrote and rallied Mr. Thomieson, and dictated letters which
+left his confidential clerk divided between the extremes of admiration
+for their shrewdness and horror at the terse and lively style in which
+they were couched; in short, he got through a day's work that sent him
+home at four o'clock in the best of spirits.
+
+Andrew met him in the hall.
+
+"Hullo," said Heriot, "where have you been all this time?"
+
+"I want to speak to you for a minute," his son replied, and then, as his
+father turned naturally towards the library door, stayed him. "There's
+some one in there. Just come into the dining-room for a moment."
+
+"Who's in there?"
+
+Andrew waited till he had got him behind the closed door, and then said
+very gravely--
+
+"It's Mrs. Dunbar and a friend of hers."
+
+"What friend?--Not old Charlie Munro?"
+
+"A Mr. Brown. Possibly you've not heard of him before, but I understand
+he's a connection of her late husband's family. She's asked him to come
+and meet you."
+
+The exceeding solemnity of his manner obviously affected Heriot's high
+spirits.
+
+"What's up?" he inquired.
+
+"I should hardly think you would need to ask that, considering what has
+passed between you. In fact, I gather that they want to be satisfied
+there's some reasonable explanation of your conduct."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw gently whistled.
+
+"Oh, that's the game, is it? Well, I suppose I'll just have to tell him
+the simple truth, in justice to myself."
+
+His son heartily agreed.
+
+"It's the only thing to be done," said he, "the only honest course left,
+so far as I can see. Just make a clean breast of everything, and you may
+trust me to confirm all you say."
+
+"My dear boy, you're devilish good. I'm afraid I really haven't been as
+appreciative lately as I ought. You're talking like a sportsman now.
+Come on, we'll go in and tackle 'em together."
+
+He took his son's arm and gave him a friendly smile as they crossed the
+hall; but the seriousness of the situation seemed to prevent Andrew from
+returning these evidences of comradeship.
+
+The injured lady met her betrayer with marked constraint. She seemed to
+anticipate little pleasure from the interview, but had evidently made
+up her mind to go through with it as a duty she owed her reputation and
+her friend Mr. Brown. This gentleman was grave, elderly, and of an
+unmistakably professional aspect. In a vague way Heriot fancied he had
+seen his face before, though he could not recollect where.
+
+"Well," said Mr. Walkingshaw genially, "here we all are; and now what's
+the business before the meeting?"
+
+"I understand," replied Mr. Brown, in a calm and gentle voice, "that you
+have broken off your engagement with this lady. Now, as a--well, I may
+say, as an interested friend of Mrs. Dunbar, I should very much like to
+have your reasons."
+
+Heriot smiled.
+
+"Will you undertake to believe them?"
+
+"I undertake to give them my closest professional consideration,
+whatever they are."
+
+"May I ask if you are a lawyer?"
+
+Mr. Brown coughed once or twice before replying.
+
+"He is," said Andrew decisively, and Mr. Brown seemed content to let
+this reply pass as his own.
+
+"You can talk to me with the utmost frankness," he said; "in fact, I
+infinitely prefer it."
+
+"Well," began Heriot, "the simple fact of the matter is that I am
+growing rapidly younger."
+
+"Ah?" commented Mr. Brown.
+
+It was curious that he should exchange a quick glance, not with the lady
+whose interests he was representing, but with her errant lover's
+faithful son.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Walkingshaw, warming to his narrative, "I am literally
+racing backwards. It is like a drive over a road one has passed along
+before, only in the opposite direction and much faster. I simply whizz
+past the old milestones. Now, a man who is behaving like that has no
+business to marry an already mature lady, who is growing older at the
+rate of, say one, while he is growing younger at the rate of, say ten;
+has he, Mr. Brown?"
+
+"No," replied Mr. Brown emphatically, "I honestly don't think he has."
+
+Heriot was delighted with this confirmation of his judgment. He threw a
+glance at the widow to see how she took it, but her eyes were cast down,
+and she displayed no emotion whatever.
+
+"That's the long and the short of the matter, Mr. Brown. I make the
+profoundest apologies to my charming relative; but if you agree that I
+acted for the best, I suppose we might as well adjourn and have a cup of
+tea."
+
+"Just one moment," said Mr. Brown gently. "I should like to have a few
+more particulars regarding this very interesting phenomenon, if you
+don't mind."
+
+"Not a bit, my dear sir. It's a very natural curiosity."
+
+"You feel, of course, a considerable exhilaration of spirits in
+consequence of this change?"
+
+"I'm simply bursting with them."
+
+"Naturally, naturally. And you propose, no doubt, to exercise your
+activities in some beneficial way?"
+
+"In a dozen ways. I've already been the means of securing two happy
+engagements for my youngest children."
+
+"And breaking off two," said Andrew.
+
+His father turned to him with a frown. This was hardly the support he
+expected. To his great pleasure, the sympathetic Mr. Brown also
+disapproved of the interruption.
+
+"One thing at a time, please," said he, and resumed his intelligent
+inquiries. "These young persons to whom your children have become
+engaged--they are hardly the matches you would have made at one time,
+are they?"
+
+"I'm afraid I was a bit of an ass at one time," Mr. Walkingshaw
+confessed.
+
+"I see, I see. And now, as to the engagements you have broken off--you
+felt yourself inspired, prompted from within, as it were, to bring them
+to an end, I take it?"
+
+"You've put it deuced well," said Heriot.
+
+"Did you feel in any way inspired from without--any visions or voices,
+so to speak, any manifestations or appearances--anything of that kind?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw looked a little puzzled.
+
+"The voices of romance and love, and that sort of thing, I certainly
+heard."
+
+"Quite so, quite so, Mr. Walkingshaw. You heard them, did you? Well,
+it's not every one who hears these things."
+
+He smiled pleasantly, and Mr. Walkingshaw became confirmed in his
+opinion that this was quite one of the most agreeable men he had met
+for a long time.
+
+"May I ask whether you propose to take any more steps to put this poor
+world of ours to rights?" inquired Mr. Brown.
+
+"He is taking control of the business again," said Andrew.
+
+"Again?" retorted Heriot. "When did I ever lose control of the business,
+I'd like to know? I've had my holiday, and now I'm going to make things
+hum in the office."
+
+"You are going to make them hum?" asked Mr. Brown. "Do you mean you are
+going to override your partner's decisions, and so on?"
+
+"My dear Mr. Brown, if I waited for his decisions, I'd be kicking up my
+heels in the office half the day. Metaphorically speaking, my son is
+somewhat like a man who fills his bath from a teacup instead of turning
+on the tap. I don't override his decisions, I simply anticipate them."
+
+"That is his account of it," said Andrew darkly.
+
+"Well, well," smiled Mr. Brown, "I think I understand. And now, Mr.
+Walkingshaw, may I ask if there is anything else you propose to do?"
+
+This time he glanced at Andrew, as if courting information.
+
+"He is altering his will," said the junior partner.
+
+"Ah!" remarked his visitor again.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw drew himself up.
+
+"That is my own affair," he said, with dignity.
+
+"Quite so--quite so," replied Mr. Brown in that peculiarly soothing
+voice he had at his command. "We would wish to make no inquiries into
+that. Only, there's just one thing I'd like to know--you don't mean to
+let the grass grow under your feet, I take it?"
+
+"No fears," said Heriot. "What I mean to do, I'm going to do at once.
+By Jingo, I'll be under age in a few years! I've got to do things
+promptly."
+
+"Thank you," replied Mr. Brown suavely, "I think that is all I want to
+know. We needn't detain you any longer, Mr. Walkingshaw."
+
+It struck Heriot that this was a funny way for the agreeable Mr. Brown
+to treat him in his own house. He assumed the air of a host at once.
+
+"Then we'll go up and have some tea. Come along, Mr. Brown."
+
+"I think," said his visitor politely, "that possibly your son and I had
+better have just a word or two with this lady first, if you'll permit
+us."
+
+"Certainly, my dear sir; just come up when you're ready."
+
+As he went upstairs, it suddenly struck him as rather odd that her
+connection by marriage and legal adviser should refer to Madge as "this
+lady"; and also that she should have sat so silently through a
+conversation which primarily concerned herself. But then such rum things
+did happen in this amusing world that it was never worth while worrying.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+Stroking the cat and sipping his tea, Mr. Walkingshaw conversed
+pleasantly with his sister. Jean and Frank had gone into the country,
+and the two sat alone together in the drawing-room.
+
+"Brown?" said Miss Walkingshaw. "I never knew the Dunbars had a relative
+of that name. Who will he be?"
+
+"I seem to mind seeing his face somewhere," replied her brother, "but
+more about him I can't tell you, except that he's a very pleasant
+fellow. Hullo, Andrew, where's Brown?"
+
+The junior partner had entered alone.
+
+"He had to go," said he.
+
+"Dash it, he might have said good-by."
+
+Andrew made no answer. He was looking at his aunt in a way that he had
+borrowed from his father's bygone manner. Though he had only quite
+recently begun to practise it seriously, he was sufficiently expert to
+convey unmistakably the fact that he desired her to withdraw. She rose
+obediently.
+
+"Hullo, where are you off to?" asked her brother.
+
+"I have things to do, Heriot," she answered nervously, "just a few
+things to do."
+
+As she passed Andrew she paused, and her lips framed a question. There
+was something in his manner that frightened her; strange things were
+happening, she felt sure. But his glowering eye silenced her, and she
+faded noiselessly out of the room. Then Andrew advanced upon his father.
+
+"Just run your eye through that," he said quietly.
+
+He handed his father a large double sheet of blue foolscap containing a
+great deal of printed matter. The particular portion of it to which Mr.
+Walkingshaw's attention was directed ran thus--
+
+                         "CERTIFICATE OF EMERGENCY
+
+     "(This certificate authorizes the detention of a Patient in an
+     Asylum for a period not exceeding three days, without any order by
+     the Sheriff.)
+
+     "I, the undersigned George William Downie, being M.D., Glasgow,
+     hereby certify on soul and conscience, that I have this day at 15,
+     Roray Place, in the County of Edinburgh, seen and personally
+     examined James Heriot Walkingshaw, and that the said person is of
+     unsound mind, and a proper Patient to be placed in an Asylum, and
+     is in a sufficiently good state of bodily health at this date to
+     be removed to the Asylum.
+
+     "And I hereby certify that the case of the said Person is one of
+     emergency."
+
+It was then dated, and signed, "George W. Downie."
+
+"Asylum--Dr. Downie!" gasped Heriot. "But--what _is_ this?"
+
+"It says on the paper. Just look--can't you read?"
+
+Heriot gave a convulsive start.
+
+"Was--was _that_ Dr. Downie?"
+
+His son nodded.
+
+Again Heriot's startled eyes ran over the certificate, and then they
+turned upon his son. It is regrettable that his next words were not more
+worthy of his reputation.
+
+"You d----d young skunk!"
+
+"It's no use swearing," his son replied coldly.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw fell back in his chair and seemed to meditate.
+
+"You wired to Glasgow for him?" he inquired in a moment.
+
+"I did."
+
+"So that I shouldn't recognize him, I suppose?"
+
+"Naturally."
+
+"What a sell if I'd spotted him and talked what the silly fool would
+have thought sense!"
+
+"You didn't," said Andrew.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw shook his head.
+
+"Man, I'd never have given you credit for the brains to do the like of
+this."
+
+Then he started.
+
+"I see it all now! It was Madge put you up to the idea! Eh? Oh, you
+needn't trouble to deny it; I know you haven't the imagination
+yourself."
+
+With a calmer air he studied the paper afresh.
+
+"It's only for three days," he observed in a cheerier tone.
+
+"Do you actually imagine you're likely to get out at the end of three
+days?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw looked at his son steadily.
+
+"You know perfectly well that every word I said was true."
+
+Andrew remained coldly immovable.
+
+"I am no judge myself. I'd sooner depend on Dr. Downie's opinion."
+
+"Hypocrite to the last!" scoffed Heriot. "Can you look me in the face,
+Andrew, and tell me that you honestly thought it was insanity to make
+friends of my children and help them to marry the people they loved, and
+divide my money fairly among you all? Can you?"
+
+"Permit me to remind you that it was not I who signed the certificate."
+
+There was a moment's very dead silence, and then Heriot asked--
+
+"Then do you actually mean to shut me up in a lunatic asylum for the
+rest of my days?"
+
+Andrew had some of the finer points of the legal mind. He noted the
+trace of emotion in his father's voice, and knew he was fairly on top at
+last. To let this fact sink still further into Heriot's mind, he eyed
+him in austere silence for a few moments before he answered--
+
+"If I have to, I shall."
+
+"If you _have_ to? What d'ye mean?"
+
+"I mean that I am not going to have my business ruined--"
+
+"Ruined! Can you not stick to the truth on a single point? I am putting
+new life into it!"
+
+"I don't care for your kind of life, thanks," said Andrew primly, "and
+I repeat that I am not going to have my business--enlivened, if that's
+how you choose to put it, and my family disgraced, and my reputation
+lost; and if I let you go on another day as you've been going, it'll be
+too late to save any of them. But I don't want to be harder than I can
+help." He paused for a moment, and his lip grew longer and straighter.
+"So I'll offer you an alternative."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"If you'll guarantee to clear out of the country and not come back
+again, I'll take no further proceedings on the strength of this
+certificate. I don't want to put you in an asylum any more than you
+want to go, but I've got to protect myself."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw mused.
+
+"When do you want me to start?"
+
+"At once."
+
+"At once!"
+
+"Yes, at once, before you see anybody else."
+
+"I'm not even to say good-by?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You've got some game on," said Heriot.
+
+"I've got to protect myself and my family."
+
+His father looked at him searchingly; but his face remained a solemn
+medallion of virtue. Then Mr. Walkingshaw again fell back in his chair
+and mused. Gradually the flicker of a smile appeared in his eye. It
+spread to his lips, and he sprang up cheerfully.
+
+"It's not half a bad idea!" he exclaimed. "I'm just getting to the age
+when a young man ought to go about a bit and see something of the world.
+New Zealand now--that's a fine country--or Japan--or Texas. By Gad, you
+know I've several times wanted to do a bit of roughing it and big game
+shooting lately."
+
+His son looked at him suspiciously. This cheerfulness was unusual in
+people he had worsted, and the unusual was always to be distrusted. But
+to the less vigilant, ordinary mind Mr. Walkingshaw merely presented the
+spectacle of a man of young middle-age with a heart some ten years
+younger still.
+
+"Of course it will be a wrench," he added, with a sobered air. "I'll
+miss 'em all: Frank--Ellen--Jean. By Gad, I shall miss Jean. However, it
+need only be for a year or two. Meanwhile--by Jingo, there's no doubt
+about it!--this is the chance of my life. Let's see now, what does one
+need? A revolver with six thingamajigs--top-boots and riding breeches--a
+good compass--"
+
+The chill voice of Andrew interrupted this catalogue.
+
+"Once you go away, you've got to stay away."
+
+"Stay away!"
+
+"Your allowance will depend on that."
+
+"My allowance!" gasped Heriot.
+
+"Your estate has got to be administered by me just as though you were"
+(instinctively this pious young man's face grew solemn) "taken away from
+us."
+
+"I wish I were not your father," sighed Heriot. "In happier
+circumstances, the pleasure of kicking you would just be immense."
+
+Andrew disliked physical brutality. His cheeks grew flabbier at the very
+idea of such an outrage--even in theory.
+
+"If you were to try anything of that kind, I warn you I'd withdraw my
+alternative."
+
+His father laughed reassuringly.
+
+"Oh, you needn't keep your back against the bookcase: I'll leave the job
+for some luckier devil."
+
+A thought struck him.
+
+"By the way, I've promised to give Jean and Frank enough to keep them
+going. You'll see to that?"
+
+"I'll carry out the provisions made when you were in your right mind."
+
+"What provisions?"
+
+"The terms of your will."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw looked at his son steadily and in silence. After a full
+minute under this stare Andrew began to grow uneasy.
+
+"There's to be no more nonsense, I warn you," he said.
+
+"You mean either to rob your brother and sister of their money, or
+revenge yourself by stopping their marriages? By Heaven, Andrew--"
+
+He broke off and plunged into meditation. Then his eyes began to smile,
+though his lips were now compressed.
+
+"Very well," he murmured.
+
+His son still felt a vague sense of apprehension.
+
+"Mind, you've got to stay abroad."
+
+"For ever?"
+
+"You must give me your word you won't come back for two years certain,
+and after that you lose your allowance if you land in Great Britain or
+Ireland."
+
+"Including the Channel Islands?"
+
+"Including them."
+
+"I see your game," smiled Heriot. "But I give you my word. Poor Jean,
+poor Frank--"
+
+"You're not even to write to them," interrupted Andrew.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw stroked his chin meditatively.
+
+"I agree to that," he said. "Any more conditions?"
+
+The smile that prevailed in his discomfited parent's eye perturbed the
+junior partner. He warily scanned all possible loopholes.
+
+"You're not to communicate with Madge Dunbar."
+
+"God forbid!" said Heriot fervently.
+
+"Nor my aunt."
+
+"Bless her, poor soul; no fears of that."
+
+"I think that's all," said Andrew reluctantly.
+
+So long as those eyes continued to look at him like that, he desired to
+pile condition on condition. But the overwhelming advantages of being
+encumbered with no imagination occasionally--very occasionally--have
+compensating drawbacks. He could imagine nothing else to be guarded
+against.
+
+"Then I'd better pack and be off."
+
+"You had," said Andrew.
+
+Just as he was leaving the room, Heriot turned and asked--
+
+"You've heard of changelings?"
+
+Andrew stared.
+
+"Do you not mind hearing of goblins that get put into cradles instead of
+the real babies? That accounts for you. Thank the Lord, I need never
+again claim the discredit of begetting you!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+A luggage-laden cab clattered over the granite cubes and passed out of
+the ring of tall mansions and the shadow of the stately trees within the
+garden. The career of Heriot Walkingshaw, W.S., was ended, and shocked
+respectability could lower again her up-rolled eyes and see nothing more
+outrageous than a prowling cat. May her troubles always end as happily!
+Undoubtedly, had the full facts been there and then made public, a
+statue of the junior partner (completely clad) would have adorned that
+decorous garden.
+
+But his modest reticence was remarkable. He stood in the somber hall
+listening intently to make sure that the cab really did ascend the steep
+street towards the station, when his ally, after peering over the
+banisters, ran downstairs to meet him. He was just heaving a deep sigh
+of relief.
+
+"Did some one go away in a cab?" she asked.
+
+He looked at her sharply.
+
+"Quite possibly."
+
+In her eyes gleamed a sudden hint of suspicion.
+
+"Was it Heriot?"
+
+He took his time before answering very deliberately--
+
+"It was."
+
+"Where is he going?"
+
+Again he paused. As every moment took his father farther from them, so
+every moment was precious.
+
+"Can you not guess?"
+
+"What!" she cried. "You're actually putting him into an asylum?"
+
+"It's the best place for him."
+
+She seized his arm.
+
+"Did you give him the alternative?"
+
+With a chaste movement he withdrew the arm.
+
+"I gave him an alternative, certainly."
+
+Her black eyes seemed to pierce into his brain. He disliked being looked
+at like that exceedingly.
+
+"_Our_ alternative?"
+
+"Our?" he questioned.
+
+"The alternative we discussed last night?"
+
+"We discussed a good many things."
+
+She kept following him up till his back was nearly against the front
+door.
+
+"Did you offer him the alternative of keeping his promise to me?"
+
+"Look out," he muttered. "Some of the servants may be coming."
+
+"Did you?"
+
+"Would you marry a man that's off his head?"
+
+"He isn't; he was only pretending!"
+
+"That's not what Dr. Downie thought."
+
+"Dr. Downie! What did he know!"
+
+"He certified him."
+
+He was backed against the front door now.
+
+"Did you offer Heriot that alternative?"
+
+He paused for a moment. Heriot must be at the station by now, and he had
+not many spare minutes before the train started.
+
+"No, I did not," he answered.
+
+The sympathetic widow's hand shot out; there was a smack and then a
+thud. The smack was caused by a momentary encounter between the hand and
+his spherical cheek, the thud by a meeting of his head and the door.
+
+"You miserable creature!" she hissed.
+
+With a look such as only the righteous can ever hope to wear, and that
+in the moment of martyrdom, he watched her rush upstairs sobbing.
+
+And thus the coalition, having served its beneficent purpose, came
+abruptly to an end. A great deal might be written in this connection,
+adducing this instance to illustrate the wider fields of statecraft,
+but unfortunately the present narrative is a simple record of facts, and
+not a philosophical treatise. The immediate consequence of the episode
+was that on the following morning Mrs. Dunbar set out for the west of
+Ross-shire to pay a long-promised visit to a third cousin who possessed
+several thousand acres of moorland in that vicinity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+It was on the following morning that Jean and Frank returned, their
+faces glowing with country sunshine and spring wind, their hearts
+quickened with anticipation. In the train coming home they had exchanged
+many confidences. Could he possibly manage to get married before he went
+out to India? Frank wondered. Would Lucas have to wait till he had sold
+a few more pictures? wondered Jean. He ran whistling up the steps and
+rang the bell. She burst radiantly into the somber hall. And then, at
+twelve o'clock in the morning of an ordinary working week-day, they
+found the junior partner at home to receive them. Such a portent had
+never before been seen.
+
+"Where's father?" asked Jean.
+
+Andrew's cheeks twitched nervously; yet on the whole he maintained a
+compassionate expression highly honorable to his fraternal instincts.
+In a hushed voice he addressed his sister.
+
+"I want to have a word with you," said he.
+
+He took her apart from her brother and shut the library door securely.
+Frank was such a hot-tempered young fellow; and he had suffered one
+physical outrage already. In a voice as appropriate as his face he
+gently broke the news--
+
+"Our father has been removed to an asylum."
+
+"Removed--to an asylum!" gasped Jean.
+
+She did not strike him, but on the whole he was even more glad when that
+interview came to an end than when he saw the widow's muscular back at
+last turn from the front door.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A few days afterwards a tall man in a sportsmanlike ulster walked up the
+gangway of a steamship bound for a port in South America. He was
+followed on board by a friend with very blue eyes and a cavalier
+mustache. They talked for a few minutes and then shook hands
+affectionately.
+
+"Well, Lucas, good-by, old fellow," said the passenger. "And remember
+now what you're to tell them. They're not to drop a hint--not a whisper
+of what they know. Just keep your tails up all of you, as best you can.
+Handy thing, this revolver we chose. I must practise shooting from the
+hip pocket. I say, take special care of Jean. Tell her I know how plucky
+she is--she'll be staunch--she'll wait. Tell her I'll often be
+thinking--Hullo, last bell; you'd better get on shore."
+
+A little later the steamer was in the middle of the gray Thames, bearing
+Heriot, his fortunes, and his six-shooter far, far from the office of
+Walkingshaw & Gilliflower. The protagonist of virtuous respectability
+sat there triumphantly enshrined. He had done everything a good man
+could reasonably be expected to do; only he had not imagined Lucas
+Vernon waving a farewell to his late partner.
+
+
+
+
+PART V
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Even in the heyday of Mr. Walkingshaw's career, when he was most
+conspicuously an example to his fellow-citizens, revered by the young
+and applauded by the old, there were to be found certain austere critics
+who held that, for themselves, the character of Andrew presented the
+more chaste ideal. Exemplary though his father's life had been (up to
+that fatal illness), there was always a latent vein of geniality in his
+character, a reminiscence of good living in his ruddy countenance, a
+brightness in his eye, that suggested possibilities; and even a
+possibility might conceivably, under certain circumstances, given this
+and that--well, it might be safer away. Whereas Andrew's pale round
+cheeks and solemn aspect were as reassuring as a plate of porridge.
+
+These pioneers of criticism were thought extremists six months ago; now,
+they had all respectable society at their back. Of course it was never a
+point in a man's favor that his father (or indeed any relative) could
+run amuck as Andrew's had done. On the other hand, he had so promptly
+and fearlessly plucked out the parent who offended him, and behaved,
+moreover, through all this tribulation with such becoming solemnity,
+that he very soon began rather to gain than to lose by his martyrdom.
+Each step he took was discretion itself. His father, people learnt, had
+been quietly removed to a retreat for the mentally infirm, situated,
+some said in Devonshire, and others in North Wales. The very ambiguity
+on this point was highly approved. It argued the perfection of prudence.
+As for the ungrateful girl who had jilted him, he had talked at
+considerable length to his friends on that subject, and they reported
+that, though naturally grieved, and even offended, by her conduct, he
+was nevertheless able to express in a calm voice many Christian
+sentiments; frequently, for instance, assuring his audience that he
+forgave her, and that if she preferred to stew in her own juice he was
+too much of a gentleman to interfere with her pleasure. At this rate, it
+was recognized that very soon nothing the Goddess of Mediocrity could
+offer would be beyond his reach. She had many worshipers, but
+unquestionably Andrew Walkingshaw looked like her favorite.
+
+He himself was modestly disposed to agree with this opinion. Really,
+the success of his prompt procedure had been remarkable. From his two
+sensible married sisters he had never anticipated trouble, and they had
+loyally fulfilled his expectations. With both he held private
+consultations, and each accepted his version of the facts without a
+single unnecessary or disquieting question. They knew they could trust
+Andrew. But what did surprise him was the calmness into which the
+impotent indignation of Frank and Jean subsided. Within three days they
+were converted from volcanoes to icebergs. It was a condition too frigid
+to give him unalloyed delight, yet all things considered he could not
+but think it exceedingly encouraging.
+
+"I presume you don't intend to give either of us a marrying allowance?"
+said Frank, interrupting with this practical inquiry the guarded
+narrative of his elder brother.
+
+"If I could feel it in any way to be my duty--"
+
+Frank interrupted him again.
+
+"But you don't; what?"
+
+"No, Frank, I may tell you candidly--"
+
+For the third time the soldier cut in--
+
+"And I may tell _you_ candidly that of all contemptible hounds I've ever
+had the misfortune to meet, you're the most despicable."
+
+That concluded the conference; and judging from Jean's pointed neglect
+of any opportunities for consultation with which Andrew provided her, he
+gathered that Frank had sufficiently expressed her opinion also. It was,
+no doubt, painful to see oneself thus misjudged, but at the same time he
+could not feel too thankful for their abstinence from any further
+inquiry regarding their father's fate. At first this lack of curiosity
+struck him as almost suspicious, but he was reassured by his conviction
+of their depravity. While their father was favoring them, they made a
+fuss about him: now that he could favor them no more, their feigned
+affection for him disappeared, and all they thought of was reviling the
+one member of the family who knew what was best for them. Each time he
+recalled those monstrous epithets of Frank's, this conviction deepened,
+till he became positively ashamed of them for their indifference. They
+might at least have gone through the form of asking for some news of
+their father now and then, even if they had not the hearts to sympathize
+with his malady. But they had no sense of decency, those two.
+
+Fortunately, he was soon relieved of Frank's society. Some weeks before
+his furlough was up he returned to India, and the house was well rid of
+him. A meandering and indignant letter from Archibald Berstoun of that
+ilk, informing Mr. Andrew Walkingshaw (in the third person) that he
+would be obliged if he would kindly keep his brother from trespassing in
+his garden, indicated that the despairing lover had paid a farewell, and
+surreptitious, visit to his mistress; but that was the last
+inconvenience he inflicted.
+
+To add to Andrew's relief, Jean came to him a few days after Frank's
+departure and announced her intention of repairing to London and
+adopting the profession of nursing. In retailing this incident to his
+friends, her brother laid particular emphasis on the generosity he had
+displayed and the scanty thanks she had tendered him. The financial
+assistance he offered her was ample--perfectly ample for all that a girl
+wanted; while in the matter of good advice he had been positively
+extravagant.
+
+"You'll think well over this, Jean," said he.
+
+"I have thought," she answered briefly.
+
+"It's an arduous profession you're embarking on, and a responsible
+profession, and an honorable profession. It requires--"
+
+"Oh, I know what it requires," she interrupted. "It will be much better
+if you simply tell your friends what you intended to tell me. They may
+be impressed: I am not."
+
+And, like the obliging brother he was, Andrew obeyed her wishes
+literally. He had his reward, for such of his friends as were able to
+wait till he had finished his narrative told him candidly that they
+thought he had left nothing unsaid, and that certainly his sister ought
+to consider herself fortunate. In fact, he only relinquished his grasp
+of their buttonholes when they had acquiesced in these conclusions.
+
+The spectacle was now presented to the world of poor Andrew Walkingshaw,
+bereft of his father and deserted by his sister, living in that great
+house in company only with his sense of duty and his aunt. People were
+very sorry for him indeed; they said he should marry; in fact, such as
+enjoyed the privilege of his acquaintance even began to select suitable
+young women for his approval. Andrew inspected these candidates gravely,
+but at the same time let it be clearly understood that he was in no
+hurry; he might decide to marry, or he might not--anyhow, if he did, the
+lady would be conferring no favor. It was left to your common sense to
+decide by whom, in that case, the favor would be conferred.
+
+All this sympathy was very consoling, but in a world partially
+compounded of people less sensible than Andrew Walkingshaw, a few
+disappointments are inevitable. He found his in the annoying attitude of
+two or three valuable but wrong-headed clients, who would persist in
+making frequent inquiries as to the probable duration of the senior
+partner's indisposition. There was an unpleasant sense of comparison
+implied in these questions, a hint of preference for the slap-dash,
+hang-technicalities method with which, in his latter days, Heriot had
+scandalized aggrieved spinsters in quest of consolation and hesitating
+suitors desirous of having their minds made up. The trouble was that
+these latter classes, though delightful company to one of Andrew's
+sympathetic disposition, were considerably less remunerative than the
+irritating inquirers; and so long as there seemed any possibility of his
+father's return to sanity and his office, he felt that he could never
+regard his position as wholly satisfactory; on the other hand, though a
+sick lion may possibly be compared with a live dog, a defunct lion is
+proverbially out of the running.
+
+Andrew thought over this aspect of the case long and conscientiously. He
+was exceedingly truthful, he disliked superfluous butchery, but what
+choice had he?
+
+It is said by the more inspired species of social reformer that what
+good men deem theoretically advisable is sure to happen sooner or later.
+In some cases, if the man be talented as well as good, it happens
+quickly. Within a few months of Jean's desertion came the last touch
+that was needed to complete the pathos of her brother's position and
+disarm the most hostile critic. Among the deaths in the _Scotsman_
+appeared the name of James Heriot Walkingshaw. Nothing was said as
+to how or where he had died; and, in fact, the point was never
+satisfactorily settled whether the sad event took place in North Wales
+or Devonshire; but, of course, the cause was only too evident. Well,
+poor man, it was a mercy the end had come as swiftly as it had. His
+friends were sorry, of course, but not surprised and quite resigned.
+They were very pleased with the way his son took it. He departed quietly
+for the funeral in a hatband six inches wide, and returned with a
+thoughtful and chastened air to resume his daily work. The interment
+took place, it was understood, in a churchyard adjacent to the retreat;
+and under the sad circumstances people thought Andrew had done well to
+attend it unaccompanied by other mourners. In short, every circumstance
+connected with the tragedy served to increase the respect in which he
+was held. Even Jean's unfortunate omission to use black-edged paper when
+writing a few brief and curiously stiff acknowledgments of the letters
+of condolence she received, reacted indirectly in Andrew's favor. People
+pitied the brother of this unfeeling girl. How wounded he must feel by
+her callousness!
+
+But the most satisfactory consequence of all was the cessation of
+inquiries for any other Walkingshaw than Andrew. He considered himself
+justified in holding that this tacitly implied an admission that nobody
+could desire a better lawyer than he. And as there were none to
+contradict this assumption (since he had always made a point of avoiding
+the candid critic like the Devil, the impecunious school friend, and
+Sunday golf), he derived from it the full gratification to which he was
+entitled.
+
+Never, surely, was there a more signal triumph for the meek. His brother
+had abused him, and he was now broiling in India, torn for ever from his
+betrothed; his sister had snubbed him, and there she was homeless in
+London slaving in a hospital; Mrs. Dunbar had smacked his face, and she
+was an exile in the moors of Ross-shire; and now here was his father,
+who had plagued and despised him, numbered in the list of the deceased.
+Alas for Heriot Walkingshaw! He had despised the wrong man when he
+despised Andrew. "The Example is dead; long live the Example!" might
+well have been inscribed upon his tombstone, had their friends been able
+to learn precisely where that monument was situated.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+It is pleasant to be able to turn (still adhering closely to the facts
+as they occurred) from tombstones to orange blossom. His friends
+unanimously felt that Andrew, having suffered so much and so heroically,
+should now obtain the consolation he deserved. Among his many virtues
+none was more remarkable than his instinct for doing exactly what was
+expected of him, and at precisely the right moment. Forthwith he
+announced his engagement to Miss Catherine Henderson, whose father's
+residence had been used as the test by which Heriot first realized his
+disastrous return to youth. Mr. Henderson was now defunct, but his
+possessions served a better purpose than being stared at by a reprobate
+neighbor. They passed, in fact, into Andrew's keeping.
+
+The lady who accompanied them was, of course, an only child, and the
+income of two thousand pounds a year she enjoyed was derived from such
+extraordinarily safe investments that even the cautious Andrew, when he
+went into her affairs with a fellow-solicitor (on the week before he
+proposed), remarked at once that he saw an increase of three hundred and
+fifty pounds to be got without risking a halfpenny. As she was only four
+years older than he, there was no disparity of years on this occasion;
+while her appearance effectually guaranteed her lover against the
+discomforts of rivalry. In short, she was generally admitted to be an
+ideal mate for Andrew Walkingshaw.
+
+It was just eight months after Heriot's disappearance from public life
+that his son led Miss Henderson to the altar of St. Giles' Cathedral,
+and after a brief honeymoon in Switzerland established her in the
+stately mansion overlooking the circular garden. The fortunate couple
+had the further advantage of overlooking (when the leaves were off the
+trees) a substantial addition to their income in the shape of the
+bride's late residence, now let on very advantageous terms to a wealthy
+relative of Mr. Ramornie of Pettigrew. It seemed impossible for any step
+Andrew took to avoid being profitable. When he lost an umbrella at the
+club, it was always to find a better one in its place. And the most
+satisfactory thing of all was the consciousness that his prosperity was
+entirely the result of following the proper kind of principles.
+
+One would fain avert one's eyes from the spectacle presented by the
+luckless Ellen Berstoun, were it not that her unhappy condition makes
+the contrast between lax and proper principles the more poignant. No
+mate with two thousand pounds a year for her! Instead, merely a hopeless
+passion for an impecunious subaltern sweltering in far-off India. That
+was poor company throughout the long series of monotonous months that
+were now her portion. The brown buds on the tall beeches broke into
+leaf, and the dark pines were tipped with vivid green; the leaves
+withered and fell, and the dead needles littered the moss. Those were
+the most exciting changes that happened. Her father (a victim of gout)
+cursed her and Frank and Andrew and Heriot impartially. Her mother
+sighed and let her into secrets of their housekeeping and finances which
+clearly showed how selfish she had been. Her sisters were kind upon the
+whole, but dreadfully disposed to talk things over in a practical kind
+of way.
+
+And then at intervals arrived those letters, very long and very loving,
+and very full of riding and marching under strange skies, and adventures
+of which strange dark peoples and stranger beasts were the sinister
+ingredients. They brightened her eyes for a little while, and then left
+her sadder than before.
+
+In the course of the second year of her bereavement, the disappointment
+of her parents with her failure was converted into satisfaction at the
+success of her sister Mary. An astonishingly wealthy shooting tenant in
+the neighborhood danced seven times with her at the County Ball, and
+proposed next morning by letter. He would have been accepted by telegram
+had Archibald of that ilk had his way, but fortunately the gentleman's
+ardor had not cooled by the time the next post reached him. A week later
+his prospective best man wriggled out of his duties by coming to an
+arrangement with Mary's younger sister that the wedding should be a
+double-barreled affair, with two brides and two grooms. As this second
+suitor was very nearly as rich as the first, Ellen found her fate
+alleviated by the entire and permanent removal of her parents'
+displeasure. She became now a mere object of pity, mingled at times with
+contempt for her folly in dooming herself to a sterile spinsterhood; for
+it was clear that Frank and she could never hope to marry, however much
+writing-paper they might waste.
+
+Just as the world never plumbed the depths of dignity and purpose in
+Woman till it saw her chained to a railing, clasping the hated constable
+like a lover, a hoarse example to her sluggish sisters, so it can never
+realize her capacity for foolishness till it has seen her waiting
+through weary years, hoping against reason, the victim of illogical
+constancy to a mere young man. Sweet and gracious Ellen Berstoun, so
+slender and pretty and charming, wasting her fragrance in the old garden
+and the dark pine-woods for the sake of certain passionate memories and
+the most impractical of day-dreams, was a sight to make a philosopher
+despair.
+
+Undoubtedly Andrew's were the proper principles.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+With the drawing in of dusk a thin mist stole up from the river and
+stealthily crept through the streets and lanes of Chelsea. It was not
+yet five o'clock, but on an afternoon in the depth of winter the little
+touch of fog converted dusk to darkness. The mist was not thick, but
+very cold and clammy, and in the zigzag lane the lamps were blurred and
+the shadows deep. Two people left a bus in the King's Road and turned
+down it. He was broad-shouldered, and swung along with a fine decided
+stride: she was trim and erect, and very quietly clad; her face was
+fresh and bright, a smile haunted her eyes, and her straight little nose
+seemed to breathe independence.
+
+"The air is beastly damp," said he. "I wish you'd let me bring you in a
+cab."
+
+"Nonsense, Lucas," she answered stoutly; "we neither of us can afford
+it. You must learn to be sensible."
+
+"But, my dear girl, I tell you I'm beginning to make money now."
+
+"Well, don't begin to spend it; and then perhaps you may have a little
+in the bank in a year or two."
+
+"A year or two!" he exclaimed; "I'll have enough in six months to--"
+
+She interrupted him briskly.
+
+"Lucas! Don't you remember we agreed that whichever of us said 'marry'
+first should be fined?"
+
+"I never agreed."
+
+"Then I shall break off the engagement."
+
+Yet she continued walking quickly by his side till they came to the
+studio. He took out his key, but she stopped short on the pavement with
+a fine air of decision.
+
+"I won't come in unless you promise to be more or less rational," she
+said.
+
+And then with the same air of decision she entered.
+
+After a few minutes' apparently unnecessary delay he lit the gas and she
+settled herself in the deck-chair while he filled the teapot.
+
+"Nursing is too heavy work for you," he said suddenly.
+
+"Don't be absurd," she smiled.
+
+He put down the teapot, took her by the shoulders, and looked into her
+eyes, at once critic and adorer.
+
+"Jean! You can't deceive me. It's my business to know how people sit
+when they are tired, and what signs in their faces show they are
+overworked. You are nearly dead beat."
+
+"Only--only a very little, Lucas," she said less stoutly.
+
+Her spirit was brave, but her feet were weary, and how her back ached!
+
+"I'm going to take you away from that infernal hospital," he announced.
+
+Her back stiffened again.
+
+"Lucas! you promised to be sensible."
+
+He smiled down at her.
+
+"I have the sense to marry you--and do it at once, too!"
+
+She jumped up.
+
+"Lucas!"
+
+"Jean!"
+
+He held her fast.
+
+"You may be strong enough to hold me," she panted, "but you aren't
+strong enough to marry me against my will!"
+
+"But why shouldn't we? Why the mischief, why the dickens, why the devil
+not?"
+
+"Because you'd be bankrupt in a month. You've _no_ sense, dear. Do get
+that into your head. By your own admission you have only just begun to
+sell your pictures. Wait and see whether it lasts--wait for a couple of
+years--"
+
+"A couple of--! I won't, and that's flat!"
+
+"One year, then."
+
+"Twelve months? I can't, Jean."
+
+"You must!"
+
+"Daren't you risk it now?"
+
+She drew herself back a little.
+
+"Lucas, that isn't fair. I dare do _anything_--except come to you
+without a penny, and probably ruin you. If I had even twenty pounds a
+year to bring you, I'd risk it; but you know quite well that if I marry
+against Andrew's wishes any time within seven years I forfeit
+everything."
+
+"If I killed Andrew," asked the painter grimly, "who would his money go
+to?"
+
+"Wait!" she said, her spirit smiling through her eyes. "Don't you trust
+father to help us somehow--some time or other?"
+
+He twisted his mustache desperately upwards.
+
+"I want to help myself."
+
+She smiled openly now.
+
+"You can't be trusted yet; you're so greedy!"
+
+He laughed, but a little wryly.
+
+"It's because I'm starving."
+
+"Then work, work!" said Jean.
+
+"I can't work harder," he answered more philosophically. "I can only
+sell faster."
+
+"And you're doing that too," she said encouragingly.
+
+They needed all the encouragement they could snatch, these two perverse
+and desperate lovers. People who lack the sense to provide themselves
+with an income after falling in love generally do.
+
+At the end of an hour, one of those galloping hours that fly swifter
+than ten ordinary minutes, they passed out into the lane again. The mist
+was now so thick that even when the way grew straight they could see no
+more than two lamps ahead, and it was very chill and damp.
+
+"I'll hail a cab as soon as I see one."
+
+"I won't drive in it, I warn you."
+
+He implored, but she shook her fair head resolutely.
+
+"One of us must be practical," she persisted.
+
+"And the other in love?"
+
+She pressed his hand, but remained the charming incarnation of
+obstinacy. He laughed at last, though a little anxiously as he saw a
+fringe of tiny drops gather on her hair; and he let her have her way.
+Together they entered a bus and slowly rumbled eastwards. The bus was
+full, and for a long time they sat in silence.
+
+"It's quite fine here!" she exclaimed at last; "we've come out of the
+mist--look at the stars!"
+
+They both cheered up amazingly. It actually seemed as if they were
+preposterous enough to take this ordinary meteorological incident as an
+omen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+"We'll have to ask the Rivingtons," said Andrew.
+
+"And not the Donaldsons?" inquired his wife.
+
+Andrew reflected. This was to be a very special dinner party; quite the
+smartest function they had given yet. His sister would want to be there,
+especially when she heard the Ramornies were coming over for it. On the
+other hand, they knew a great many more distinguished people than Hector
+and his wife had yet become, and of these they could only invite a small
+selection to the dinner party. It was a case in which principle clashed
+with principle.
+
+"We'll have Gertrude and Hector too," he announced.
+
+He had just remembered that Walkingshaw & Gilliflower were briefing
+Hector in a forthcoming case, and that there had been some discussion in
+the office as to the precisely proper fee to which, at that moment in
+his upward career, he was entitled. He would set this dinner against the
+odd two guineas in dispute. That, anyhow was an equitable principle, if
+ever there was one.
+
+"And of course Lord and Lady Kilconquar?"
+
+"Of course," said Andrew.
+
+"And Sir William Sinclair?"
+
+Andrew nodded.
+
+"Must we ask the Mackintoshes?"
+
+Andrew frowned.
+
+"They'll do for our next dinner."
+
+That was not going to be quite so smart a function.
+
+"That's twenty-two," said Mrs. Walkingshaw.
+
+"Just the right number," replied her husband. "It was what the
+Kilconquars had when we dined there."
+
+Everything that Andrew had done was right, and his circumstances
+reflected his rectitude. No dodging about devious lanes in the fog for
+him and Mrs. Walkingshaw; no slow progress in crowded omnibuses; no
+Bohemian teas in paint-smelling studios. The streets through which they
+passed were wide and stately, even if a trifle windy; a motor car
+whirled them to their destination (which was always the right place to
+be seen at); their meals were consumed in sedate Georgian apartments,
+and in every detail would have satisfied a peer. They moved through
+life on oiled and noiseless wheels, wrapped in comfort and attended by
+respect. Let no carping critic say that the good things in this life
+are not distributed according to the most laudable principle. The
+guinea-fowl lays where she sees a nest-egg, and the larger it is the
+more does she deposit. And the prosperous nest-owner is he who stays
+always beside his treasure, gently coaxing the fowl, and vigilantly
+guarding against the least suspicion of disturbance, theft, or injury.
+Let anything happen that may in the world outside; here is his post of
+duty, and he sticks to it.
+
+It is true that for a short while an uncomfortable shadow seemed to
+cloud the serenity of Andrew's soul. This happened about the second
+anniversary of his late father's removal from his native city to that
+retreat where he ended his days, and was believed by his aunt to result
+from the painful memories evoked by his recollection of the date. It is
+certain that his serenity returned with each succeeding week, till by
+this time, when several months had passed, he had thrown off his anxiety
+altogether. He remained perhaps a little more constantly vigilant than
+before--even, for instance, when coming home from church; but it seemed
+now he had rather the alertness of the coastguardsman than the tension
+of the sailor when the decks are cleared for action.
+
+It is impossible to imagine a more ideal scene of domestic felicity than
+that presented by Andrew and his spouse this evening. The room had been
+redecorated and partially refurnished by its new mistress. As she never
+expressed any opinion without quoting a competent authority, her husband
+at once took into respectful consideration her suggestion that
+fashionable people no longer dangled a cut-glass chandelier from their
+ceiling, and always had colored tiles in their hearths. When she further
+suggested that it should be her privilege to effect these and other
+improvements out of the dowry she was bringing him, he passed from
+consideration to consent. So that the fortunate couple were now mounted
+in a setting worthy of their price.
+
+Sitting at a Sheraton table in a semi-evening toilet that had cost her
+forty guineas, writing the names of some twenty of their most eminent
+fellow citizens in the spaces on the invitation cards, Catherine
+impressed her husband favorably--entirely favorably. A very satisfactory
+mate indeed he considered her. One could not imagine her pale eyes
+winking, or a saucy smile on her thin lips, or anything but the plainest
+common sense coming out of them. Yes, she was very satisfactory. It is
+true that he had once, in a burst of confidence, confided to one of his
+friends that she was "Awful skinny," but it is wonderful how far forty
+guineas will go towards modifying that defect. In short, she was--well,
+satisfactory. When one has secured the right adjective, why change it?
+
+Andrew's complacency was completed by the presence of his aunt. He still
+kept her with him as a kind of perpetual testimonial to his solid worth.
+Her mere presence proved he was a kind and hospitable nephew; and on the
+least provocation she would enlarge upon his virtues in a way that was
+most pleasant for a visitor to hear. At other times she kept discreetly
+in the background, just as she had all her life. There was also this
+further advantage: that her legacy was much more satisfactorily employed
+in defraying (at her own desire, of course) some portion of her nephew's
+increasing expenses, than going into the pocket of a worthless landlord
+or hydropathic company.
+
+Andrew was glancing through an evening paper, and his aunt
+conscientiously studying that morning's _Scotsman_. Suddenly she
+exclaimed:
+
+"The Cromarty Highlanders have come to Glasgow!"
+
+Andrew stared at her.
+
+"Not the second battalion?"
+
+"Yes, Frank's regiment."
+
+"But they weren't to leave India for three years yet."
+
+Mrs. Andrew looked over her shoulder.
+
+"Oh, I saw they'd been ordered home some time ago."
+
+"You didn't mention it to me," said Andrew.
+
+She looked a little surprised, for she knew that Frank's was not a name
+mentioned in that house.
+
+"I didn't think you'd be interested."
+
+"I am not in the least," replied her husband.
+
+His eye reproved her coldly. She exchanged with his aunt one of those
+sympathetic glances that pass between indulgent but comprehending women.
+"He is a noble creature, but at moments a little inconsistent," they
+mutually confided. And then she wrote the names of Lord and Lady
+Kilconquar on their card.
+
+And that is how Jean might have been spending her evenings too, had she
+had proper principles.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+The gentlemen entered the drawing-room, bringing a faint aroma of
+Andrew's excellent cigars. The ladies' conversation died away to the
+whispered ends of one or two stories too interesting to be left
+unfinished, and then with a deeper note and on manlier topics the flood
+of talk poured on again.
+
+It had been a most successful dinner--soup excellent, fish first-rate,
+everything good. Of course the wines were unexceptionable, while the
+company recognized itself as a homogeneous specimen of all that was best
+in the city--with the Ramornies of Pettigrew thrown in. Here they were
+now, the whole twenty-two of them from old Lord Kilconquar, most eminent
+of judges, down to that rising young Hector Donaldson, bearing implicit
+testimony to the status of Andrew Walkingshaw. He stood there beside
+Lady Kilconquar's chair gravely discoursing on a well-chosen topic of
+local interest and bending solemnly at intervals to hear her comments.
+You could see at once from the attitude of all who addressed him that he
+was recognized as far from the least distinguished member of the
+company. He had touched the very apex of his career.
+
+"Hush, Andrew," murmured his wife. "Mrs. Rivington is going to sing."
+
+Hector opened the piano, and Mrs. Rivington sat down and touched the
+keyboard. Then she looked around for silence, and it fell completely.
+All the eye-witnesses present are agreed that it was in the moment of
+this pause that the drawing-room door opened, and they heard the butler
+announce the name of Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+The company turned with one accord and beheld a tall youth, attired in
+tweeds, march confidently into the room. In fact, he seemed so much at
+home, that, though naturally surprised (especially at his unorthodox
+costume), they never dreamt of any but the most obvious and simple
+explanation. They scrutinized him as he advanced, merely wondering what
+cousin--or could it be brother?--he was.
+
+"Surely that's not Frank?" murmured Lord Kilconquar.
+
+It certainly was not Frank; and yet it was some one who looked
+strangely familiar to one or two of the older people present. He made
+straight for Andrew, his hand outstretched.
+
+"Don't you know me?" he asked; and the voice recalled strange memories
+too.
+
+Andrew was not altogether unprepared for some such apparition appearing
+some day, though scarcely on such a horribly ill-timed occasion.
+Somehow, he had always imagined the dread possibility as happening in
+his office. But he remembered exactly how he had decided to confront it.
+He pulled his lip hard down, his eyes contracted dangerously, and then
+he merely shook his head.
+
+"What!" cried the young man, with a touching note of rebuffed affection.
+"Don't you recognize your own son?"
+
+Andrew's brain reeled. His mouth fell open, and his stare lost all
+traces of formidableness.
+
+"Father!" said the stranger in a moving voice.
+
+Incoherently Andrew burst out.
+
+"You--you--you're not my son!"
+
+His disclaimer seemed so evidently sincere that the sense of the company
+was already in sympathy with the victim of this outrageous intrusion,
+when--alas for him!--his aunt chose that fatal moment, of all others,
+to rush out of her chronic background.
+
+"Andrew!" she cried, her cheeks suddenly very pink, her eyes strangely
+excited, her voice trembling with the fervor of her appeal. "He must
+be--oh, he must be! Look--look at the likeness to your father! Oh,
+Andrew, what if it is irregular; surely you wouldn't deny the living
+image of poor Heriot!"
+
+"By Gad! So he is," exclaimed Lord Kilconquar.
+
+A general murmur instinctively confirmed this verdict. They wished to be
+charitable--but what a family resemblance!
+
+"I--I--I tell you it's a put-up job!" stammered their host.
+
+"Who put it up, father?" asked the strange youth plaintively.
+
+Lord Kilconquar shook his head, and again the startled company followed
+his lead.
+
+"Look, Andrew!" cried his aunt, pointing to a tinted photograph of James
+Heriot Walkingshaw at the age of twenty, which hung above the
+mantelpiece. "Oh, just look at the resemblance!"
+
+The young man regarded this work of art with evident emotion.
+
+"My sainted grandfather!" he murmured, though quite loud enough for the
+company to hear.
+
+The poor lady stretched her thin clasped hands beseechingly under
+Andrew's very nose.
+
+"He says it himself--he says it himself!" she pleaded. "For Heriot's
+sake, don't disown him!"
+
+There was a rustle of silk, decisive and ominous. It was caused by the
+skirt of the chaste lady of Pettigrew.
+
+"Good-night," she said.
+
+She only touched her brother's hand with the tips of her fingers, and
+her stony glance gave him his first clear vision of the appalling chasm
+that yawned beneath his feet.
+
+"Maggie!" he besought her, "you don't believe it?"
+
+"Can you not disgrace yourself _quietly_?" she hissed, and a moment
+later was gone.
+
+Andrew realized that he was already in the chasm, hurtling downwards
+with fearful velocity. One after another, his guests followed the
+example of his scandalized sister; and their host was too unmanned to
+hold up his head and carry off the partings with the air of injured
+innocence that alone might have given his reputation another (though a
+feeble) chance.
+
+As they left the hang-dog figure that so lately was a respected Writer
+to the Signet, they said to one another that all was over socially with
+Andrew Walkingshaw. And it had been so public, so dramatic, that they
+feared--of course they hoped against hope, but still they feared that
+the fine old business could not but suffer too. In London one might
+disgrace oneself and yet retain one's clients; but could one here? Well,
+anyhow, that and many other interesting aspects of the case would be
+debated by all Edinburgh to-morrow morning.
+
+Meanwhile, the unhappy victim of fate was left alone with his wife, his
+aunt, and his long-lost offspring. A desperate gesture dismissed Miss
+Walkingshaw; yet, though she trembled beneath his wrathful eye, she
+could not refrain from beseeching him again--
+
+"He must be, Andrew--he must be! Just compare him with the picture."
+
+And then she shrank out of the drawing-room.
+
+"Leave us," he commanded his wife.
+
+Her pale eyes gazed on him defiantly.
+
+"I certainly shall not. I demand a full explanation, Andrew!"
+
+"Go away, will you!"
+
+For answer she sat down firmly upon the sofa.
+
+"Papa, papa, don't be rough with her," expostulated the youth.
+
+Andrew confronted him indignantly.
+
+"That's enough of this nonsense!" he thundered. "What d'ye mean? Who are
+you?"
+
+"Doesn't the voice of nature tell you?" the youth inquired sadly.
+
+"The voice of nature be damned!"
+
+The young man turned to the cold lady on the sofa.
+
+"Stepmother," he asked, "will you protect me?"
+
+She looked at him at first stonily, and then suddenly more kindly. He
+was remarkably good-looking, with such nice bright eyes, and a manner
+difficult to resist.
+
+"I shall certainly see that justice is done you," she replied.
+
+The young man seated himself beside her and took her hand.
+
+"Thank you," he murmured affectionately.
+
+Andrew swore aloud and vigorously, but the pale eyes never flinched.
+
+"Do you mean deliberately to tell me you don't know who this young man
+is?" she demanded.
+
+Put in that form, the question made him hesitate for an instant. The
+hesitation did honor to his sense of veracity, but it finally cost him
+the remains of his character.
+
+"You needn't trouble to answer!" she cried. "You _do_ know who he is.
+Come, you had better tell me all about it at once. I presume you have
+not been _married_ previously?"
+
+The youth spoke quickly.
+
+"You don't think father was so scandalous as not to marry her?"
+
+"Did you?" she demanded.
+
+The luckless Writer fell into the trap. It seemed to him a gleam of
+hope--a chance of saving his precious reputation.
+
+"Er--ye--es," he stammered.
+
+"You were married?" she cried.
+
+There was a dreadful pause, and then abruptly she demanded, "What became
+of her?"
+
+A dark frown answered this pertinent inquiry. She turned to the young
+man.
+
+"Do you know?"
+
+He seemed to have some difficulty in controlling his voice as he
+answered--
+
+"She lives in London."
+
+"Lives!" shrieked the lady. "Andrew--you are a bigamist! And I--I am
+not lawfully--"
+
+She leapt up and gave him one terrible look; and before he could speak
+she had swept wrathfully from the room.
+
+And then the most surprising thing occurred. Instead of continuing his
+filial overtures, the young man sank into the corner of the sofa and
+burst into peal upon peal of boyish laughter.
+
+"Oh, my dear Andrew!" he gasped. "Oh, I can't help it--you a bigamist!
+Poor respectable old blighter! I say, what a joke! Oh, Andrew, Andrew,
+my bonny, bonny boy!"
+
+In silence through it all, Andrew gazed darkly down at the late Heriot
+Walkingshaw.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+"When you have finished," said Andrew grimly.
+
+He looked a nasty customer to tackle now, but the laugher on the sofa
+merely subsided into a friendly smile.
+
+"Shake hands, Andrew," he cried, jumping up.
+
+Andrew placed his hands behind his back, and his glowering eyes answered
+this overture.
+
+"What!" said Heriot, "won't you even shake hands?"
+
+Andrew still stared darkly.
+
+"You'd rather have it war than peace?"
+
+"I had rather conclude this conversation as soon as possible."
+
+Heriot looked at him for a moment, and then shook his head with a smile
+compounded of sorrow and humor.
+
+"You're a hopeless case," said he. "Well, your blood be on your own
+head!"
+
+Andrew's lip grew longer and longer.
+
+"I admit you've made a fool of me," he said, "if that's any
+satisfaction. But you'll make nothing out of me; not a shilling, not a
+halfpenny. Do you hear?"
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"Practically; but I may just as well point out, to let you see where you
+stand, that as you have now done your worst, there's no use trying on
+blackmail or anything of that kind. You have been so very clever, you've
+thrown away any hold you might fancy you had. Do you quite understand
+that?"
+
+Heriot began to smile again, and Andrew's face grew grimmer.
+
+"You can prove _nothing_. You may say you're my father if you like--"
+
+"God forbid!" Heriot interrupted devoutly. "I've had enough of fathering
+a bogle. Claim any sire you like from Lucifer downwards, but don't put
+the blame on me. I won't be disgraced with you again; not at any price."
+
+For a few moments Andrew seemed to be in travail of a fitting repartee.
+When it appeared it possessed all the practical characteristics of its
+parent.
+
+"In that case," he retorted, "you had better clear out of my house as
+quick as you can."
+
+Heriot regarded him with extreme composure.
+
+"Do you actually imagine you are going to get off as easy as this?" he
+inquired, "Man Andrew, I haven't been senior partner in Walkingshaw &
+Gilliflower for nothing. You're just a rat in a trap. That's precisely
+your position at this moment."
+
+"I'd be glad to hear you explain how you make that out," said Andrew.
+
+Heriot smiled humorously as he produced a bulky pocket-book. Out of this
+he selected one of many letters it contained.
+
+"Do you know the writing?" he asked.
+
+Andrew turned a thought more solemn, but his only answer was a wary
+sidelong glance.
+
+"Don't be afraid to say. A hundred people can swear to it. There's no
+secret to be kept."
+
+"It is my late father's hand," said Andrew gravely.
+
+His guest burst into a shout of laughter, and then with an effort pulled
+himself together again.
+
+"Read it," he said, "and by the way, I may just as well tell you I've
+plenty more like it, so there's no point in putting it in the fire."
+
+Andrew took it with gingerly suspicion, which changed into a different
+emotion as he read:
+
+     "DEAR HARRIS,--I write to let you know that I have reached this
+     city in safety and am slowly recovering from the mental anguish I
+     have undergone. As regards my wretched and ungrateful son Andrew, I
+     still disagree with you. No, Harris, I cannot bring myself to
+     expose the infamy of my eldest boy to a thunder-struck world; I
+     simply cannot do it. His immorality and dishonesty temporarily
+     unhinged my mind. I am exiled through his perfidy, but I forgive
+     him, Harris; I forgive him. Hoping to see you again someday,--
+
+                              "Your unhappy friend,
+
+                                   "J. HERIOT WALKINGSHAW"
+
+The address was an hotel in Monte Video, and the date about two years
+before.
+
+"What--what's all this rigmarole?" gasped Andrew. "It's sheer nonsense
+from beginning to end."
+
+His unwelcome guest was again shaken with boyish laughter.
+
+"Prove it!" he cried. "Prove it's nonsense! Eh? How'll you manage that?"
+
+Andrew's face grew darker and darker.
+
+"Who does 'Harris' profess to be, I'd like to know?"
+
+"Grandson of Mrs. Harris!" laughed Heriot.
+
+"What Mrs. Harris?"
+
+"Sarah Gamp's pal."
+
+"You are drunk," said Andrew.
+
+Heriot regarded him with portentous solemnity.
+
+"Mr. Harris was the kind gentleman who befriended my grandfather on his
+voyage to South America. He received afterwards many letters from your
+papa, Andrew; and very, very thoughtfully handed them to me. They prove,
+my boy, that you treated your parent outrageously. They prove that you
+must have been a shocking bad hat yourself. Some of them prove that your
+kind and forgiving parent is still alive at this moment; others prove
+that he expired under heart-rending circumstances six months ago; and I
+propose to use whichever alternative seems best--that's to say,
+whichever will flatten you out most effectively. And that's who Harris
+is."
+
+For some minutes Andrew studied the letter in silence. He felt like a
+heavy-weight boxer in the grip of a professor of Ju-Jitsu. What use was
+a lifelong apprenticeship to common sense, respectability, and the law
+of Scotland, when it came to wrestling with a juggler of this kind? he
+asked himself bitterly. One ought to have led a life of crime! The
+longer he looked at the preposterous epistle, the more diabolical did
+it appear. At last he spoke--
+
+"This is an impudent forgery."
+
+"There are some hundreds of specimens of your father's hand to compare
+it with," said Heriot calmly; "I am perfectly willing to let any expert
+judge whether it's genuine or not."
+
+The heavy-weight tried another wriggle.
+
+"This is the letter of a lunatic. I have a certificate to prove it. I
+can call Dr. Downie to prove it."
+
+"You needn't go to so much trouble. You'll find that plot against my
+grandfather's liberty fully described in some of the letters. The point
+that will be put to you by the cross-examining Counsel is, if you
+thought him off his chump, why did you only pretend to put him in an
+asylum?"
+
+"I did put him," snapped Andrew.
+
+Heriot rose and rang the bell.
+
+"What's that for?" asked Andrew; but he was only answered by a smile.
+
+"Show up the other two gentlemen," said Heriot.
+
+The discreet butler glanced at his master, but he was too dumbfounded to
+give any indication of his pleasure one way or the other.
+
+A minute later, Frank and Lucas entered. They nodded coolly, but Andrew
+only stared.
+
+"Now, Lucas, dear boy," said Heriot genially, "tell this old cockalorum
+who you saw off on a steamer for South America."
+
+Lucas smiled grimly at his brother-in-law to be.
+
+"Heriot Walkingshaw," he replied.
+
+"Swear to it?" smiled Heriot.
+
+Lucas nodded, his blue eyes glittering on Andrew all the time; and there
+followed a pause in the conversation.
+
+"What do you propose to do?" asked Andrew.
+
+"Make you disgorge, old cock," said Heriot.
+
+"Disgorge what?"
+
+"Every single penny you inherited!"
+
+Andrew made a last convulsive struggle.
+
+"I'll not do it!"
+
+"In that case, the following interesting facts will immediately be made
+public: that you lied when you said your father was in an asylum, and
+lied again when you said he was dead; that he suffered indescribable
+agonies in consequence of your ill-treatment; that he is either alive at
+this moment or died a death that will bring tears to the eyes of all
+Edinburgh; and that, in any case, you helped yourself to his fortune
+with precisely as much justification as a burglar who opens a safe. The
+matter will then be placed in the hands of Thompson, Gilray, & Young."
+
+This choice of a vindictive rival firm struck Andrew as the most
+diabolical artifice of all. His eyes blinked and his cheeks twitched;
+and when he spoke his voice reminded them painfully of the professional
+mendicant of the pavement.
+
+"Would you ruin me?"
+
+"Ruin be hanged! Your wife has two thousand pounds a year, and you've
+got the lion's share of the business. But you've got to shell out every
+brass farthing you bagged from your poor dear father, and settle it in
+equal shares on Frank and Jean."
+
+Frank made a quick movement of gratitude and protest.
+
+"Shut up," said Heriot jovially. "You mind your own business, Frank.
+This is my shout."
+
+"My dear Frank--" his brother began solemnly.
+
+"Andrew!" thundered Heriot, "if you make any miserable whining appeal to
+your brother, I'll tell Lucas to kick you. Are you ready, Lucas?"
+
+"Quite," said the artist.
+
+A few minutes later the present head of Walkingshaw & Gilliflower had
+appended his signature to the following document (the unaided
+composition of the late senior partner in the aforesaid firm):
+
+    "I, Andrew Walkingshaw, having the fear of this world and the next
+    before my eyes, do hereby promise and swear that upon the morning
+    following the above date of the month and year, at the hour of 10
+    a.m., I shall formally, legally, and irrevocably settle in equal
+    shares upon my brother and sister, Frank and Jean Walkingshaw, the
+    whole estate, real and personal, of my revered father, except such
+    portion of it inherited and enjoyed by my sisters Margaret
+    Walkingshaw or Ramornie and Gertrude Walkingshaw or Donaldson, and
+    my aunt Mary Walkingshaw. This I do for the following consideration:
+    that through their kindness and charity my despicable,
+    unsportsmanlike, and criminal conduct may never be revealed. I
+    humbly and sorrowfully confess that I had my estimable father
+    aforesaid certified as insane when I knew his brain to be
+    considerably sounder than my own; that I did this in order to diddle
+    him and my younger brother and sister out of their money; that
+    instead of putting him under restraint, I exiled him furth of Great
+    Britain and Ireland, so that he thereby suffered discomforts and
+    torments for whose virulence I take his word; that I announced his
+    death knowing him to be alive; and that I then in a criminal and
+    shameful manner appropriated his estate to my own use. May all
+    wicked and foolish men be laid by the heels as I have been, and may
+    their relatives be as forgiving as mine! This paper I sign
+    cheerfully and penitently."
+
+It was a pale and flabby-cheeked Writer to the Signet who laid down his
+pen after reading and signing this lucid document. He stalked solemnly
+to the door, and then with a chastened air addressed them--
+
+"May Heaven forgive you."
+
+Thus in a blaze of appropriate piety the star of Andrew Walkingshaw set.
+There is small probability of his ever becoming an Example again. At
+present it is his arduous task to live down, by the austerity of his
+demeanor and the judicious expenditure of his wife's income, the
+suspicions connected with the apparition at his dinner party, and his
+subsequent act of inexplicable magnanimity in divesting himself of his
+fortune and handing it to his brother and sister. It is with the
+greatest regret that the editor of these few simple facts finds himself
+unable to cap with a suitable reward the career of well-principled
+respectability so unfortunately interrupted; but his obligations to the
+illogical truth are peremptory.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"My dear old boys and jolly good sportsmen, and all the rest of it,"
+said Heriot jovially, "don't mention it--don't mention it. What can you
+do to show your dashed gratitude? There's only one thing; one blooming
+favor I ask of you: send me to a good public school!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+The devious lane was filled with sunshine; the studio being lighted only
+from the north was filled instead with happiness. The same two sat
+there; but to-day she was no longer so demurely clad and all the aches
+and weariness were gone, and he no longer fumed.
+
+"Is this better than scrubbing the floor of a ward?" he smiled.
+
+"Buying a trousseau is harder work than you realize, Lucas," she
+answered, with that touch of reproof by which all good women remind man
+gently but daily that it is her part to suffer, his to misunderstand.
+
+There followed a space of happy silence, and then she said--
+
+"Didn't I tell you that everything would come right if we waited?"
+
+"Yes," he admitted, "that was one of your good guesses."
+
+She raised her delicate brows.
+
+"Aren't you happy _now_?"
+
+"Good heavens! I should think so."
+
+"Then be more grateful, dear," she smiled.
+
+Rapturously he confessed he had erred, and was even sufficiently in love
+to think he perceived how.
+
+"I positively must go now," she said in a little, and, despite his
+protestations, rose.
+
+"Shall we walk?" he asked.
+
+"Haven't you a cab call?"
+
+"But you haven't been out of a hansom all day, and it's only ten
+minutes--"
+
+"Oh, bother the expense!" she cried. "I believe in being sensibly
+economical, but not in being _close_."
+
+Again he cheerfully accepted the gentle rebuke as the reproof his
+inconsistency deserved.
+
+And so off they whirled in a hansom.
+
+At that very same hour, far, far to the northward, the winter sun was
+struggling in gleams through the pine-tops and falling in patches on the
+moss. For an instant one patch lit the hat of straw and gentle face of
+Ellen Berstoun; and though it was but a small patch, it also lit a large
+tweed cap a few inches higher up. Beneath the cap a voice murmured--
+
+"Ellen!"
+
+No more letters came to her now from India; and no longer she walked
+alone.
+
+These incidents occurred nearly three years ago. Since then Mr. and Mrs.
+Frank Walkingshaw and Mr. and Mrs. Lucas Vernon have grown into
+comparatively old married couples.
+
+As for the genial and sagacious author of their happiness, the latest
+report to hand informs the present editor that the name of James Heriot
+Walkingshaw stands first in the batting averages of a select preparatory
+school.
+
+                              THE END
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise,
+every effort has been made to remain true to the author's intent.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Prodigal Father, by J. Storer Clouston
+
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+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of  The Prodigal Father, by J. Storer Clouston.
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
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+    p {  margin-top: .75em;
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prodigal Father, by J. Storer Clouston
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Prodigal Father
+
+Author: J. Storer Clouston
+
+Release Date: June 25, 2008 [EBook #25899]
+Last updated: March 2, 2009
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRODIGAL FATHER ***
+
+
+
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+produced from images generously made available by The
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+
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+</pre>
+
+
+<h1> The<br />
+ Prodigal Father</h1>
+
+<h3> BY</h3>
+
+<h2> J. STORER CLOUSTON</h2>
+
+<p class="center"> <span class="smcap">Author "The Lunatic at Large,"<br />
+"A County Family," etc.</span></p>
+
+<p class="gap">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 127px;">
+<img src="images/i001.jpg" width="127" height="125" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="gap">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h3> New York</h3>
+<h2>The Century Co.</h2>
+<h3>1909</h3>
+
+<hr class="biggest" />
+
+<p class="center">Copyright, 1909, by</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">J. Storer Clouston</span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Published, September, 1909</i></p>
+
+<p class="center">J. F. TAPLEY CO.</p>
+<p class="center">NEW YORK</p>
+
+<hr class="biggest" />
+
+<div class="blockquot2"><p>WITH GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENT TO AN UNKNOWN CORRESPONDENT WHO ONCE
+MADE A CERTAIN SUGGESTION. IF HE READS THIS STORY HE PERHAPS WILL
+REMEMBER</p>
+
+<p class="right">
+J. S. C.<br />
+</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="biggest" />
+
+<h2>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table border="0" width="50%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="1" summary="CONTENTS">
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Introductory</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Part I</span></td>
+<td align="right">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter I</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter II</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter III</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter IV</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter V</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter VI</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter VII</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter VIII</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Part II</span></td>
+<td align="right">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter I</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_81">80</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter II</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter III</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter IV</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter V</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter VI</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter VII</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Part III</span></td>
+<td align="right">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter I</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter II</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter III</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter IV</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter V</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter VI</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter VII</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter VIII</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_194">194</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter IX</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter X</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter XI</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter XII</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter XIII</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Part IV</span></td>
+<td align="right">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter I</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_235">234</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter II</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_247">247</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter III</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_251">251</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter IV</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_260">260</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter V</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_268">268</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter VI</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter VII</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_282">282</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter XIII</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter IX</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_297">297</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Part V</span></td>
+<td align="right">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter I</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_301">300</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter II</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_313">313</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter III</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_318">318</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter IV</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_324">324</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter V</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_330">330</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter VI</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_339">339</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="add1em"><span class="smcap">Chapter VII</span></span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_350">350</a></td></tr>
+
+</table></div>
+
+<hr class="biggest" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1-2]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="THE_PRODIGAL_FATHER" id="THE_PRODIGAL_FATHER"></a>THE PRODIGAL FATHER </h2>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="INTRODUCTORY" id="INTRODUCTORY"></a>INTRODUCTORY</h3>
+
+<p>In one of the cable tramway cars which, at a reverential pace,
+perambulate the city of Edinburgh, two citizens conversed. The winds
+without blew gustily and filled the air with sounds like a stream in
+flood, the traffic clattered noisily over the causeway, the car itself
+thrummed and rattled; but the voices of the two were hushed. Said the
+one&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It's the most extraordinary thing ever I heard of."</p>
+
+<p>"It's all that," said the other; "in fact, it's pairfectly
+incomprehensible."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Walkingshaw of all people!"</p>
+
+<p>"Of Walkingshaw and Gilliflower&mdash;that's the thing that fair takes my
+breath away!" added the other; as though the firm was an even surer
+guarantee of respectability than the honored name of the senior partner.</p>
+
+<p>They shook their heads ominously. It was clear this was no ordinary
+portent they were discussing. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p><p>"Do you think has he taken to&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>The first citizen finished his question by a crooking of his upturned
+little finger, one of those many delicate symbols by which the north
+Briton indicates a failing not uncommon in his climate.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a curious thing," replied his friend, "that I haven't heard that
+given as an explanation. Of course he's not a teetotaler&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, none ever insinuated that," put in the other, with the air of one
+who desired to do justice even to the most erring.</p>
+
+<p>"On the other hand, he's ay had the name of being one of the most
+respectable men in the town, just an example, they've always told me."</p>
+
+<p>"I knew him fine myself, in a business way, and that's just the
+expression I'd have used&mdash;an Example."</p>
+
+<p>"Respected by all."</p>
+
+<p>"An elder, and what not."</p>
+
+<p>"A fine business, he has."</p>
+
+<p>"His daughter married a Ramornie of Pettigrew."</p>
+
+<p>They shook their heads again, if possible more gravely than before.</p>
+
+<p>"He must be going off his head."</p>
+
+<p>"He must be gone, I'd say." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p><p>"Yon speech he made was an outrage to common sense and decency!"</p>
+
+<p>"And about his son's marriage!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's Andrew Walkingshaw&mdash;his partner?"</p>
+
+<p>"Aye."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you've heard the story, then? I wonder is it true?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had it on the best authority."</p>
+
+<p>They pursed their lips solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>"The man's mad!"</p>
+
+<p>"But think of letting him loose to make a public exhibition of himself!
+It's an awfu' end to a respected career&mdash;in fact, it's positively
+discouraging."</p>
+
+<p>"You're right: you're right. If as respectable a liver as him ends that
+way&mdash;well, well!"</p>
+
+<p>In this strain and with such comments (exceedingly natural under the
+circumstances) did his fellow-citizens discuss the remarkable thing that
+befell Mr. Walkingshaw. And yet they could see only the outward symptoms
+or manifestations of this thing. Now that the full circumstances are
+made public, it will be generally conceded that few well-authenticated
+occurrences have ever at first sight seemed less probable. This has
+actually been advanced <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>as an argument for their suppression; but since
+enough has already leaked out to whet the public curiosity, and indeed
+to lead to damaging misconceptions in a city so unused to phenomena
+other than meteorological, it is considered wisest that the unvarnished
+facts should be placed in the hands of a scrupulous editor and allowed
+to speak for themselves. </p>
+
+<hr class="biggest" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7-8]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="PART_I" id="PART_I"></a>PART I </h2>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE PRODIGAL FATHER</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h3>
+
+<p>At a certain windy corner in the famous city of Edinburgh, a number of
+brass plates were affixed to the framework of a door. On the largest and
+brightest of them appeared the legend "Walkingshaw &amp; Gilliflower, W.S.";
+and on no other sheet of brass in Scotland were more respectable names
+inscribed. For the benefit of the Sassenach and other foreigners, it may
+be explained that "W.S." is a condensation of "Writers to the Signet"&mdash;a
+species of beatified solicitor holding a position so esteemed, so
+enviable, and so intensely reputable that the only scandal previously
+whispered in connection with a member of this class proved innocently
+explicable upon the discovery that he was affianced to the lady's aunt.
+The building in which the firm had their office formed one end of an
+austere range of dark stone houses overlooking a street paved with cubes
+of granite and confronted by a precisely similar line of houses on the
+farther <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>side. The whole sloped somewhat steeply down a hill, up which
+and down which a stimulating breeze careered and eddied during three
+hundred days of the year. Had you thrust your head out of the office
+windows and looked down the street, you could have seen, generally
+beneath a gray sky and through a haze of smoke, an inspiring glimpse of
+distant sea with yet more distant hills beyond. But Mr. Walkingshaw had
+no time for looking gratis out of his window to see unprofitable views.
+The gray street had been the background to nearly fifty years of
+dignified labor on behalf of the most respectable clients.</p>
+
+<p>His full name was James Heriot Walkingshaw, but it had been early
+recognized that "James" was too brief a designation and "Jimmie" too
+trivial for one of his parts and presence, and so he was universally
+known as Heriot Walkingshaw. His antecedents were as respectable as his
+clients. One of his eight great-great-grandfathers owned a landed estate
+in the county of Peebles, one of his maternal uncles was a theological
+professor in the University of Aberdeen, and his father before him had
+been a W.S. Young Heriot himself was brought up on porridge, the tawse,
+the Shorter Catechism, and an allowance of five shillings a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>week. His
+parents were both prudent and pious. Throughout such portions of the
+Sabbath as they did not spend with their offspring in their pew, they
+kept them indoors behind drawn blinds. His mother kissed young Heriot
+seldom and severely (with a cold smack like a hailstone), and never
+permitted him to remain ten minutes in the same room with a housemaid
+unchaperoned. His father never allowed him to sleep under more than two
+blankets, and locked the front door at nine o'clock in summer and six in
+winter.</p>
+
+<p>The supreme merit of this system in insuring the survival of the fittest
+was seen in its results. Heriot's elder brother passed away at the age
+of two in the course of a severe winter. Clearly he would never have
+been a credit to oatmeal. His younger brother broke loose at nineteen,
+pained his relatives exceedingly, and retired to a distant colony where
+the standard was lower. His name was never mentioned till at his decease
+it was found that he had left &pound;30,000 to be divided among the survivors
+of the ordeal. And finally, here was Heriot, a credit to his parents,
+his porridge, and his Catechism&mdash;in a word, an Example.</p>
+
+<p>One damp February morning, Mr. Walkingshaw, accompanied as usual by his
+eldest son, set forth <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>from his decorous residence. It was one of a
+circle of stately houses, broken in two or three places to permit the
+sedatest kind of street to enter. The grave dignity of these mansions
+was accentuated by the straight, deep-hewn furrows at the junctions of
+the vast rectangular stones, and by the pediment and fluted pillars
+which every here and there gave one of them the appearance of a Greek
+temple dedicated to some chaste goddess. In the midst, a round,
+railed-in garden was full of lofty trees, very upright and dark, like
+monuments to the distinguished inhabitants.</p>
+
+<p>Just as Mr. Walkingshaw and his son had got down the steps and reached
+the pavement, the door opened again behind them and a figure appeared
+which seemed to light the dull February morning with a ray of something
+like sunshine. Her dress was a warm golden brown; her face clear-skinned
+and fresh-colored, with bright eyes, a straight little nose, and, at
+that moment, eager, parted lips; her hair a coil of curling gold; her
+age nineteen.</p>
+
+<p>"Father!" she cried, "you've forgotten your muffler!"</p>
+
+<p>"Tut, tuts," muttered Mr. Walkingshaw.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped and let her wind the muffler round <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>his neck, while his son
+regarded the performance with a curiously captious eye.</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, Jean," said Mr. Walkingshaw.</p>
+
+<p>He threw the girl a brief nod, and the two resumed their walk. Jean
+stood for a minute on the steps with a smile half formed upon her lips,
+as though she were prepared to wave them a farewell; but neither man
+looked back, and the smile died away, the door closed behind her, and
+the morning became as raw as ever.</p>
+
+<p>For a few minutes father and son walked together in silence. In Andrew's
+eye lurked the same suggestion of criticism, and in his parent's some
+consciousness of this and not a little consequent irritation. They were
+the same height&mdash;just under six feet&mdash;and there was a decided
+resemblance between Mr. Walkingshaw's portly gait and Andrew's dignified
+carriage, but otherwise they were not much alike. The father had a large
+and open countenance, very ruddy and fringed with the most respectable
+white whiskers; and something ample in his voice and eye and manner
+accorded with it admirably. Andrew's face also was full, but rather in
+places than comprehensively. The chief places were his cheeks and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>upper
+lip. This lip was perhaps his most striking characteristic. It was both
+full and long, meeting his cheeks at either end in a little dimple, and
+protruding above the lower lip. Beneath it his chin sloped sharply back
+and then abruptly shot forward again in the shape of a round aggressive
+little ball. His eye was cold and gray, his hair dark, his age
+six-and-thirty, and for the last few years he had been his father's
+partner. He was the first to break the silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Why you don't see a respectable doctor, I can't imagine," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"I went to Mackenzie. I went to Grant," replied Mr. Walkingshaw shortly.
+"A lot of good either of them did my gout!"</p>
+
+<p>"Gout!" said Andrew. "And have you exchanged that for anything better?
+You ought to have stayed in bed to-day. I wonder you ventured out in the
+state that man's got you into."</p>
+
+<p>The words might conceivably be taken to represent a very natural filial
+anxiety, but the voice was reminiscent of the consolation of Job. Mr.
+Walkingshaw had always been able to inspire his children with a respect
+so profound that it was a little difficult at times to distinguish it
+from awe. Even Andrew when he became his partner had not lost <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>the
+attitude. But to-day his father accepted the rebuke without a murmur. In
+a moment the hard Scotch voice smote again&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"The idea of a man in your position going to an infernal quack like
+Professor Cyrus! Professor? Humph! The man's killing you."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw's ruddy face grew redder. The standard of common sense
+is high in Scotland; the humiliation in being taken in profound; the
+respect for the professional orthodoxies intense. And he had been the
+protagonist of everything sensible, orthodox, and prudent! He felt like
+a constable caught in the pantry.</p>
+
+<p>"Cyrus is a man of remarkable&mdash;ah&mdash;ideas. He assures me I shall see the
+beneficial effects soon. Patience&mdash;patience; that is what he says.
+I&mdash;ah&mdash;have probably only caught a little chill. I believe in Cyrus,
+Andrew, I believe in him."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew received the explanation with outward respect. His father's eye
+had become formidable; but in silence his own expressed his opinion of
+this paltry defense. Presently he inquired&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like people to know who you're going to?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw started.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll trouble other folks to mind their own business," <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>he said sharply;
+yet he cast an uncomfortable glance at his son.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm not anxious they should know my family's escapades," said
+Andrew reassuringly.</p>
+
+<p>But his gray eye had now a triumphant gleam, and his father realized he
+had no case left to go before the court. If people were to know&mdash;well,
+he would certainly be a less shining example. Mr. Walkingshaw of
+Walkingshaw and Gilliflower in the hands of a quack doctor! It would
+sound awful bad&mdash;awful bad. Little did he dream what people would be
+saying of that reputable Writer to the Signet three months later.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Business happened to be slack that afternoon, and at the early hour of
+four o'clock Mr. Walkingshaw resumed his overcoat and muffler. As Mr.
+Thomieson, his confidential clerk, decorously tucked the scarf beneath
+the velvet collar, he offered a word or two of respectful sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>"Far the wisest thing to go home, sir. But will you not take a cab? It's
+an awful like day to be out with a chill on ye."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw perceived his junior partner gazing on him in severe
+silence, and defiantly decided to walk. Yet as he paced homewards he
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>could not but admit, in the unquiet recesses of his own mind, that it
+certainly was an odd sort of chill. He felt&mdash;well, he found it hard to
+tell exactly how he felt&mdash;rather as though he had swallowed some ounces
+of quicksilver which kept flashing and running about inside him with
+every step he took. Suppose Cyrus's wonderful new system were actually
+to prove dangerous to the constitution, possibly even to the life, of
+his august, confiding patron? You could not always know your luck,
+however deserving you might be. The tower of Siloam fell both upon the
+righteous and the unrighteous. What would people say if Professor Cyrus
+metaphorically fell on him? Heriot Walkingshaw had more at stake than
+mere existence. He had a character to lose.</p>
+
+<p>The sight of his house, so dignified and so permanent, soothed him a
+little. As he hung his coat upon the substantial rack in the dark and
+spacious hall, he was soothed still further. Ascending to his
+drawing-room, the thick carpet underfoot completed his tranquillity.
+Surely nothing disconcerting could happen to a man who owned such a
+house as this. But alas! regrettable episodes have a habit, like migrant
+birds, of arriving in companies. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h3>
+
+<p>Mrs. Walkingshaw had been dead for many years, and in her stead Heriot's
+maiden sister, a thin, elderly lady of exemplary views and conduct,
+ruled her household. As her brother ruled her, he found the arrangement
+worked admirably.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you not coming out with me in the carriage?" said she to her niece
+that afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>Jean excused herself. She had letters she positively must write; and so
+the two tall horses pranced off, bearing in the very large and very
+shiny carriage only the exemplary lady. As she heard them clatter off
+over the resounding granite, Jean gave a little skip. Her eyes danced
+too and her lips smiled mysteriously. She ran upstairs like a whirlwind
+and had the drawing-room door shut behind her before she paused. Only
+then did she seem to feel safely alone and not in the carriage shopping.
+The room was very long, and very wide, and immensely high, with three
+tall windows down one side and substantial furniture purchased in the
+heyday of the Victorian epoch. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>The slim, fair-haired figure was quite
+lost in the space considered suitable by an early nineteenth-century
+architect for the accommodation of a Scottish lady; and the fire made
+much more of a display, glowing in the gloom of that raw February
+afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>Jean sat by a little writing-table and took up a pen. Then she waited,
+evidently for ideas to come. Ten minutes later they arrived. The door
+was softly opened, a voice respectably subdued announced the name of
+"Mr. Vernon," and the duties of the pen were over.</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman who entered made a remarkable contrast to the sedate
+upholstery. He had a mop of brown hair upon a large and well-shaped
+head, a broad face with rugged, striking features, very bright blue
+eyes, a dashing cavalier mustache, and a most engaging smile. His
+clothes were light of hue and very loose, his figure was of medium
+height and strongly built, his collar wide open at the neck, and his tie
+a large silk butterfly of an artistic shade of brown. Altogether he was
+a most improbable person to find calling upon a daughter of Mr. Heriot
+Walkingshaw.</p>
+
+<p>He gave Jean's hand the grasp of a friend, but his eyes looked on her
+with a more than friendly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>light in them. When he spoke, his voice was
+as pleasant as his smile, and his accents were those of that portion of
+Britain not yet entirely occupied by the victors of Bannockburn.</p>
+
+<p>"It's very good of you to stay in," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I wasn't going out in any case," said Jean demurely.</p>
+
+<p>She seated herself in one corner of the sofa, and the young man, after
+hesitating for an instant between a seat by her side and a chair close
+by, and failing to catch her eye to guide him, chose the chair, and for
+the moment looked unhappy.</p>
+
+<p>"I've come to say good-by," he began.</p>
+
+<p>She looked up quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going away?"</p>
+
+<p>He nodded his brown mop.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I'm off to London again."</p>
+
+<p>"For good?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope so; anyhow, it can't be for much worse than I've done here."</p>
+
+<p>"Haven't your pictures been&mdash;been appreciated here?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"They haven't been sold," he said, with a short laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"What a shame! Oh, Mr. Vernon, I do think people might have had better
+taste." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p><p>"So do I," he smiled, "but they haven't had. I've made nothing here but
+friends."</p>
+
+<p>He had a musical voice, rather deep, and very readily expressive of what
+he strongly felt. His last sentence rang in Jean's ears like a
+declaration of love. Her eyes fell and her color rose.</p>
+
+<p>"We have all been very glad to see you."</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head; his eyes fastened on her all the time.</p>
+
+<p>"No, you haven't."</p>
+
+<p>She looked up, but meeting that devouring gaze, looked down again.</p>
+
+<p>"Not all of you," he added. "Your father disapproves of me, your eldest
+brother detests me, and your aunt distrusts me. It's only you and Frank
+who have been my friends."</p>
+
+<p>Frank was her soldier brother, and Jean adored him. She thought she
+could never care for any one but a soldier, till she encountered art and
+Lucas Vernon.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Frank certainly does like you very much indeed," she said warmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she answered firmly.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled and bent towards her.</p>
+
+<p>"Your hand on it!" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p><p>She held out her hand, and he took it and kept it.</p>
+
+<p>(At that moment Mr. Walkingshaw was opening his front door.)</p>
+
+<p>For a minute they sat in silence, and then she tried gently to draw the
+hand away.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me keep it for a little!" he pleaded. "I'm going away. I shan't
+hold it again for Heaven knows how long."</p>
+
+<p>His voice was so caressing that she ceased to grudge him five small
+fingers.</p>
+
+<p>(Mr. Walkingshaw had removed his muffler and was hanging up his coat.)</p>
+
+<p>"Are you at all sorry I'm going?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," murmured Jean, "Frank and I&mdash;we'll both miss you."</p>
+
+<p>The artist murmured too, but very indistinctly. The idea he expressed
+thus inadequately was, "Hang Frank!" But she heard the next word too
+plainly for her self-possession.</p>
+
+<p>"Jean!"</p>
+
+<p>(Mr. Walkingshaw was now ascending his well-carpeted staircase.)</p>
+
+<p>She gave him one glance which she meant for reproof; but when he saw her
+eyes, so loving and a little moist, he covered the short space between
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>them with one movement, and was on his knees before her.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you love me?" he whispered.</p>
+
+<p>Her head bent over his, and she answered very faintly something like
+"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw entered his drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment there was a painful pause. Jean's face had turned a
+becoming shade of crimson, and the artist was on his feet. Naturally the
+woman spoke first.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I didn't expect you back so soon, father."</p>
+
+<p>"So I perceive," said Mr. Walkingshaw.</p>
+
+<p>The young man turned to him with creditable composure.</p>
+
+<p>"One can hardly judge of the effect in this light," said he.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw had heard of people becoming insane under the stress of
+a sudden shock, and he wondered uneasily whether this misfortune had
+befallen Lucas Vernon or himself. The artist perceived his success, and
+hope began to rise afresh. He cocked his head professionally on one side
+and examined the confounded girl.</p>
+
+<p>"We must try the pose in my studio."</p>
+
+<p>Jean also saw the dawn of hope. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p><p>"May I inquire what you are talking about?" demanded her father.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Walkingshaw has promised to sit to me for her portrait," explained
+the artist. "We were trying one or two positions."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw breathed somewhat heavily, but said nothing. Jean's
+color began to subside.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Vernon was arranging my hands," she contributed towards his
+enlightenment.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Vernon was now gazing on her in the attitude which he had learnt
+from plays and poems conveyed to the laity the best conception of
+artistic fervor.</p>
+
+<p>"The head a little more to the right!" he exclaimed. "The hands crossed!
+A smile, please! Now, sir, how do you like that?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw ignored the question altogether and addressed his
+daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"If Mr. Vernon can give any reasons why he should paint your portrait, I
+think he had better give them to me before the matter goes further."</p>
+
+<p>His formidable eye supplied the addendum, "And you leave the room!"</p>
+
+<p>She obeyed, and the painter was left with this singularly favorable
+opportunity of obtaining a commission at last. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h3>
+
+<p>"Well, sir?" said Mr. Walkingshaw.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas was unused to the subtleties of diplomacy, but it seemed to him an
+evident case for tact.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think about it yourself?" he began cautiously.</p>
+
+<p>"I think," replied the W.S., "that you'd be better back in England."</p>
+
+<p>His eye again spoke for him, and this time it said, "There is no further
+use in attempting to deceive me."</p>
+
+<p>The artist took the hint. His strong, pleasant face became a mirror
+reflecting the very truth; his blue eyes were filled with a light
+brighter even than the inspiration of art; his mellow voice burst out
+abruptly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I love Jean!"</p>
+
+<p>The effect was rather like discharging a cannon and bringing down a
+scrap of plaster.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, indeed," said Mr. Walkingshaw. "You mean my daughter?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should think I do!" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p><p>"I merely asked for information, Mr. Vernon."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I can guarantee your information!" Lucas smiled frankly, but he
+might as well have smiled at the hat-rack in the hall. "I'm quite aware
+you don't think me good enough for her&mdash;and I agree with you. But if it
+comes to that, who is? You may say my name's neither Turner nor Rubens;
+you may think it's like my dashed impudence asking you to let me make a
+short cut to heaven across your hearth&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>It was at this point that Mr. Walkingshaw discharged his ordnance.</p>
+
+<p>"What is your income?" he inquired coldly.</p>
+
+<p>His aim was more accurate. The artist descended to earth with a thud.</p>
+
+<p>"My <i>income</i>?" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Your income," repeated the bombardier.</p>
+
+<p>The artist ran his fingers convulsively through his hair.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, what the deuce should I put it at?"</p>
+
+<p>"An approximately correct figure," suggested Mr. Walkingshaw.</p>
+
+<p>"To tell you the truth, I haven't the least idea."</p>
+
+<p>"A thousand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, good God, no!"</p>
+
+<p>"A hundred?" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, more than that."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you suggest a figure yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, let's say that in a good year I make anything up to three or four
+hundred pounds, and in a bad year anything down to fifty or sixty."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll say that if you like. Do you expect any legacies to fall in to
+you&mdash;anything of that kind?"</p>
+
+<p>"Unfortunately I don't."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw regarded him with contemptuous severity.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you propose to marry my daughter on maybe fifty or sixty pounds a
+year?"</p>
+
+<p>"I told you that was in a bad year," protested the artist.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, but I don't want any of your fluctuating incomes for my
+girl. I don't care if you earned ten thousand pounds this year. So long
+as you can't guarantee that to last, you're no better than a
+speculator&mdash;a hand-to-mouth, don't-know-where-you-are-to-morrow sort of
+person. Now, that sort of thing <i>won't do</i>, Mr. Vernon. Before you next
+think of marrying a girl in my daughter's position, let me give you this
+bit of advice: learn to paint your pictures on some kind of proper
+business principles. If you do them, say, once a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>month and sell them at
+a standard price&mdash;just as other folks have to manufacture and sell their
+goods&mdash;you'll not find yourself in the same ridiculous position you're
+in at this moment."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw rose to indicate that the interview was at an end; but
+the artist's endurance ended first.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Walkingshaw! Did you ever <i>make</i> anything in your life?"</p>
+
+<p>The W.S. stared at him.</p>
+
+<p>"I have made most of what I possess, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh! You're talking of money. Does your mind never run on anything but
+money? I mean, have you ever made a hat or a shoe, or a book or a
+picture, or even a cheese? Have you ever actually turned out anything
+that was the least use or pleasure to anybody?"</p>
+
+<p>Vernon's blue eyes were bent upon him in such an extraordinarily intense
+and flashing manner that Mr. Walkingshaw found himself compelled to
+answer.</p>
+
+<p>"That kind of thing is&mdash;ah&mdash;not in my line."</p>
+
+<p>"Then," burst forth the artist, "you can no more judge of my work than a
+toasting-fork can judge of a steam engine. The woman who cooks your
+dinner understands more than you do. She <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>knows better than to think it
+costs no more time and trouble to cook an omelette than boil an egg. A
+picture a month, and the same price for each! Confound it, Mr.
+Walkingshaw, you make me ashamed of you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you imagine, sir, that that affects me?"</p>
+
+<p>"If I were you, I'd prefer my son-in-law to respect me."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw positively jumped.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean to&mdash;er&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Marry her, whether you like it or not! I'm in love&mdash;and she loves me!
+There's not the least use trying to explain to you what love means. It
+would be like trying to explain a cigar to a chicken. You're too
+respectable. You can't understand."</p>
+
+<p>The tirade ceased abruptly, and the young man smiled again upon the
+petrified Writer to the Signet.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going back to London to-night. Just give me a year or two, Mr.
+Walkingshaw. I'll make an income for her."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw regained his senses.</p>
+
+<p>"You will never be admitted inside this house in your life again, sir.
+You will never marry <i>my</i> daughter; and mind you, you needn't flatter
+yourself she will correspond with you or anything of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>that kind. My
+children have been decently brought up. What I say is done; and what I
+say shan't be done, is not done!"</p>
+
+<p>He had recovered his formidableness now, and the artist's face fell. For
+a moment he looked gloomily at his father-in-law elect, and then he
+turned for the door.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall see," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall not see <i>her</i> again," retorted Mr. Walkingshaw.</p>
+
+<p>The door slammed behind art and love and impracticability, and he stood
+in his vast drawing-room alone. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+
+<p>It is a pleasant and an edifying thing to contrast the difference
+between the fates of the reputable and the Bohemian even in the lists of
+love. Clearly these matters are managed by some scrupulously equitable
+power. One hesitates to dub it Providence for fear of seeming
+sentimental, but one may safely describe it as something almost as wise
+and decidedly more respectable. Here was Lucas Vernon, without a settled
+income or any very coherent notion of how to make one, dismissed the
+house of the girl he was foolish enough to love. There, on the other
+hand, was Andrew Walkingshaw, who had first devoted himself to amassing
+and investing a handsome competence, and then, without any further
+difficulty to speak of, had selected and secured one of the most
+charming girls imaginable. In every respect but one he had chosen
+obviously well. She was fair to see, and hence very gratifying to be
+seen with; she was quite young, and therefore amenable and not too
+sophisticated; and she came of so excellent and ancient a family that
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>it was a pleasure merely to mention the name of his prospective
+father-in-law to his envious acquaintances. Archibald Berstoun, Esq., of
+that ilk, was the style in which that gentleman preferred to have
+correspondence addressed to him, accepting Berstoun of Berstoun as a
+less satisfactory alternative, and answering very briefly letters to
+plain Archibald Berstoun, Esq.</p>
+
+<p>The only drawback to Ellen Berstoun was her father's unfortunate
+financial position. Andrew had to take her without a penny; but then, on
+the other hand, he might not have got her at all had her parents the
+wherewithal to display her charms in London ballrooms. Also, Archibald
+of that ilk might have looked for a showier mate for her under more
+prosperous circumstances. As it was, her parents spent a strenuous
+fortnight in persuading her to accept so excellent an opportunity of
+reducing their supply of marriageable daughters to the more reasonable
+number of five, and the approval of their creditors was practically
+unanimous.</p>
+
+<p>They had been engaged for a month, when, upon that same afternoon, she
+arrived on a short visit to the Walkingshaw's house. Andrew would have
+met her at the station had her train arrived only twenty minutes later,
+but it was one of the most <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>admirable features in his character that he
+made a point of never on any pretext leaving the office before the hour
+had struck. Frank, however, showed remarkable alacrity in offering
+himself as substitute. So zealous and obliging a brother was he that he
+started for the station with half an hour to spare, and whiled away a
+portion of that time in purchasing a bouquet of flowers and a very
+ornamental box of chocolates.</p>
+
+<p>Holding the chocolate-box and his umbrella under one arm and the bouquet
+in his other hand, this best of brothers paced that eligible promenade,
+the platform of the Haymarket station. People, especially women, glanced
+at him with approval as the erect, military young figure passed and
+repassed on his vigil, marching as though on parade. He was twenty-five,
+bronzed of skin, well-featured, trimly mustached, modest and yet gallant
+of mien, attired in an overcoat drawn in at the waist and a hat
+becomingly cocked a little towards his left ear&mdash;in a word, a credit to
+that distinguished corps, the Cromarty Highlanders. At present they were
+in India, and he was home on furlough.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes his clear young eyes looked disconsolately into space, as
+though the saddest thoughts afflicted him; and then they would brighten
+with a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>sudden excitement. As these brightenings almost invariably
+coincided with the first rumbling of a train far down the line that
+glimmered beneath red lamps and green, leading from the north out of the
+gathered dusk, it seemed as though the cheering prospect came from
+thence. This probability would appear to be increased by the
+disappearance of the excitement when the train proved to come from some
+locality of no interest whatsoever. An observant female in glasses and a
+golf cape, who entertained herself by furtively studying this
+agreeable-looking stranger, smiled knowingly at each of these
+manifestations: <i>she</i> knew whom he was waiting for, even without the
+palpable evidence of the bouquet and chocolate-box, and the only thing
+that puzzled her was why he should have these very mournful lapses. A
+secret grief seemed inappropriate both to the gentleman and the obvious
+situation. But how could she guess that she was merely witnessing an
+accentuated variety of the pleasure with which any good brother looks
+forward to meeting his future sister-in-law at the end of a cold
+journey?</p>
+
+<p>"Yon's her noo," said a porter to whom the young officer addressed a
+question for the fourteenth time. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p><p>The north line runs for a long way very straight just there, and Frank
+could see the two round glows far off in the darkness grow larger and
+larger, brighter and brighter, with the furnace-lit smoke streaming ever
+more brilliantly above, till the shape of a great engine started out,
+thundering close upon him. And then the observant female was gratified
+by a glimpse of a slender girl, rather tall, smiling very kindly as the
+interesting unknown handed her down from her carriage and placed the
+flowers in her small gray glove. Her hair was dark; she wore handsome
+furs; she left the entire charge of her luggage to her escort, like a
+lady accustomed to be waited on; she moved down the platform with a
+graceful air of distinction, and as she passed close by, the observant
+female's heart was won by the sweet and innocent expression on her face.
+She thought them one of the nicest-looking couples she had ever seen.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the man whose virtues had earned this charming girl, and
+whose high position could command the services of a Highland subaltern
+to do his station work for him, was dictating a letter to his
+typewriter.</p>
+
+<p>But when Andrew sat down to dinner beside the lady of his choice, and
+felt that at last he could <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>conscientiously lay aside the serious
+business of life for a little dalliance with the fruits of his industry,
+it was pleasant to see with what happy mingling of pride and calm he
+accepted his good fortune. He conveyed that suggestion of having put the
+lady in his pocket from the moment she whispered "Yes," and kept her
+there among his keys as a valued, yet not foolishly over-valued,
+possession, which is so virile a characteristic of the thoroughly
+successful man. Now he was taking her out to have a look at her, and
+incidentally&mdash;as it were, unconsciously&mdash;exhibit his trophy to the
+company. As for Ellen Berstoun, she looked so kind, so delicately
+radiant, so gently bred, and so anxious to give pleasure, that she made
+just the contrast to her dominating betrothed that sensible people
+believe in. Here, they would tell you, was a match made in a more
+practicable place than heaven.</p>
+
+<p>The rest of the company at dinner consisted of Mr. Walkingshaw,
+evidently proud of his future daughter-in-law, yet singularly silent and
+abstracted; Miss Walkingshaw, very erect at the end of the table; Jean,
+very downcast, poor girl (yet did she not deserve to be?); Frank,
+looking for some reason considerably less happy than when he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>handed
+Miss Berstoun out of her carriage; and Mrs. Dunbar. Madge Dunbar was a
+second cousin, and the widow of Captain Dunbar of Hammersmith's Horse,
+who was killed at Paardeberg. She was left with no children, a very
+small income, and a number of relatives occupying excellent stations in
+life. With one or other of these she generally stayed, but latterly had
+shown a decided preference for the hospitality of Mr. Walkingshaw. In
+fact, she had already been with them for three months, and as Mr.
+Walkingshaw was always very emphatic in his refusals to let her think of
+leaving, and remarkably gracious on every occasion on which they were
+seen in company, while his sister declared her to be one of the best
+women she knew, acquaintances had begun to exchange whispers. She was
+forty-five, full-figured, though not yet precisely stout, dark-eyed, and
+irreproachably dressed. She was also irreproachably diplomatic.</p>
+
+<p>Champagne was drunk in honor of Miss Berstoun, and as being the beverage
+most suitable to her pedigree (though, as a matter of fact, she had only
+tasted it twice before, since Archibald of that ilk confined himself to
+whisky, and his wife to dandelion porter). As the butler passed behind
+Mr. Walkingshaw's chair, his master arrested him <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>by pointing to his
+glass. The vigilant Andrew bent forward in his seat.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you giving the system up?" he inquired, with his cross-examining
+smile.</p>
+
+<p>"I feel that a glass of wine would do me good to-night," his father
+replied with dignity.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm so glad to see you enjoying yourself again, Heriot!" smiled
+Mrs. Dunbar.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you. Thank you, Madge," said he, and made a little courteously
+old-fashioned indication that he drank to her health.</p>
+
+<p>The lady in a sprightly fashion returned his toast, and the junior
+partner frowned. He disapproved of Mrs. Dunbar, he strongly suspected
+her of ulterior designs, and he regarded the adoption of Christian names
+by second cousins as superfluous, and in the circumstances a little
+indecorous. His long upper lip grew longer as he addressed his relative.</p>
+
+<p>"I was under the impression it was you who encouraged him to go in for
+this so-called system."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but it's possible to overdo everything, you know," said the lady,
+with a smile whose sweetness he inwardly decided to be compounded of
+some base imitation of sugar. "Don't you agree with me, Heriot?" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p><p>"Absolutely," pronounced her host, with emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>So passionate a lover naturally regretted parting even for a moment from
+his betrothed, yet under the circumstances Andrew felt decidedly
+relieved when the ladies left the room, and the three Walkingshaw men
+drew together at the end of the table. His father passed the port to his
+sons and then helped himself. Andrew frowned again: he believed in never
+neglecting an opportunity for salutary criticism.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you're going to take port too?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am," said Mr. Walkingshaw, and drinking his glass straight off,
+filled it afresh.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew drew down the corners of his lips, raised his eyebrows, and
+glanced across at his brother; but Frank was staring abstractedly at the
+tablecloth.</p>
+
+<p>The second glass seemed to revive their father. He smacked his lips over
+it with something of his old gusto, threw out his chest, frowned
+formidably, yet with a certain complacency, and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I've had to perform an unpleasant duty this afternoon, Andrew."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew pricked up his ears and looked sternly expectant. Yet on neither
+of them did the idea of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>an unpleasant duty seem to have a saddening
+effect.</p>
+
+<p>"That fellow Vernon has been making love to Jean. I ordered him out of
+the house. He's off to London again, I'm thankful to say."</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my word!" said Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>He looked as though he had been told of the attempted assassination of
+the President of the Court of Session. But on Frank the news produced
+quite a different effect. He started out of his reverie and exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You ordered him out? Poor Jean!"</p>
+
+<p>The two older and wiser men turned upon him together.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," said his father, "I did order him out. It would have been
+'poor Jean' if I hadn't."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd have kicked him downstairs!" said Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd have had a devilish thin time if you'd tried," retorted his
+brother. "Vernon could take you across his knee. He's a good fellow&mdash;a
+deuced good fellow; he'd have made Jean a deuced good husband. Kick him
+downstairs? By Gad, you'd have squealed when the kicking began!"</p>
+
+<p>He addressed himself entirely to his brother, though he had done no more
+than approve of the exiling of Lucas, and he spoke with a curious
+bitterness. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>Mr. Walkingshaw struck the table with his fist, not
+passionately, in any disorder of mind, but sternly and effectively.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold your tongue," he said, and kept his eyes on him to see that he
+held it.</p>
+
+<p>Frank rose.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon," he said to his father, and, not looking again at
+his brother, walked out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>The two wiser heads, being then left undisturbed by the follies of
+youth, discussed at length and in complete accord the outrageous episode
+of the afternoon. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h3>
+
+<p>Frank strode hurriedly across the hall, flung into the library, and
+there relieved his feelings by a few crisp expletives. Gloom succeeded
+anger, but after a few minutes youth began to prevail even over these
+high emotions. He turned up the light, adjusted his tie and smoothed his
+hair before the mirror over the mantelpiece, and ran upstairs to the
+drawing-room. Outside the door he paused, looking now like the expectant
+watcher on the platform. Faintly he heard Ellen Berstoun's voice, and
+the same look came into his eyes as when he caught the distant roaring
+of the train. He straightened his neck, banished all expression from his
+face as a soldier should, and entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>It is generally conceded by such as have enjoyed the privilege of
+sitting in a drawing-room waiting for the gentlemen to lay down their
+cigars that no period of the day is more immune from the bustle and
+turmoil of modern life. But the peace of an ordinary drawing-room was a
+bank holiday compared with the Walkingshaws'. Not too much gas <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>was
+burned, or too much coal, since money is not made and well-born wives
+secured by waste of fuel. That leads to mere cheerfulness. The monastic
+atmosphere was completed by the Victorian upholstery and the hushed
+voices of the four ladies, so that even the young soldier instinctively
+trod more like a burglar than a Cromarty Highlander as he advanced
+towards one of the groups of two.</p>
+
+<p>Near the fireplace sat Miss Walkingshaw and Mrs. Dunbar engaged on
+fancy-work, and occasionally murmuring references to "my last
+cook"&mdash;"that tall girl Jane." But it was not they that Frank approached.
+On two chairs very close together and far removed from the others, Jean
+and Ellen talked. Their voices, too, were hushed, but the subject of
+their conversation was evidently more agitating than cooks. In fact,
+there was something very like a sob more than once in Jean's voice, and
+Ellen held her hand and gently pressed it. But when poor Jean saw her
+favorite brother coming towards her with a warm sympathy in his eyes
+that told her he knew her trouble, she could control herself no longer.
+Up she jumped, and throwing him one wry, tearful smile as she passed,
+ran out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>The two elder ladies looked up and then down <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>again at their work. They
+had not yet heard of the painful episode. Frank came forward and took
+his sister's chair, which had been drawn so very close to Ellen's. He
+was thus able, by exercising caution, to take up the confidential
+conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose she has told you?" he muttered, with a wary glance towards
+his aunt.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," murmured Ellen. "I'm so sorry!"</p>
+
+<p>She looked nearly as distressed as Jean, and her gentle voice made her
+words sound like a sweet lament for all unhappy loves.</p>
+
+<p>"I call it the deuce of a shame!" said the soldier.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't we do anything to persuade your father?"</p>
+
+<p>He was conscious of a little glow at being adopted so instinctively as
+an ally.</p>
+
+<p>"I've told him what I think about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you?"&mdash;there was a sparkle in her eyes.&mdash;"How good of you! What
+did he say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Told me to hold my tongue."</p>
+
+<p>Her face fell.</p>
+
+<p>"I must talk to Andrew about it."</p>
+
+<p>Frank smiled sardonically. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p><p>"I'm afraid you won't find him very sympathetic either."</p>
+
+<p>She looked down at her little pointed shoe and said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Who isn't very sympathetic, Frank?" asked Miss Walkingshaw, suddenly
+looking up.</p>
+
+<p>He started guiltily.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;er&mdash;a lot of fellows one can think of," he explained.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dunbar looked at the two young people curiously. She knew whom she
+herself did not consider sympathetic, and jumped to a conclusion. There
+was nothing the junior partner would dislike more than being critically
+discussed by that dear girl who was so much too nice for him, and that
+engaging boy who was so infinitely better-looking. It seemed a pity they
+could not enjoy their conversation without interruption.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like me to play you something, dear?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, dear," said Miss Walkingshaw. "Do, please!"</p>
+
+<p>They were the most affectionate of friends. Indeed, it was touching to
+see how devoted Madge was to Heriot's wintry sister. Nobody else had
+ever seen so much in her to love. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p><p>The music began, and, once started, showed no sign of stopping. Over the
+top of her music Mrs. Dunbar's black eyes smiled a discreet approval of
+the confidential pair. She only wished that Andrew, gagged and bound
+beneath his brother's chair, was here to listen to them. She was sure
+they must be discussing something it would do him good to hear.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Mr. Vernon a very nice man?" asked Ellen.</p>
+
+<p>"One of the best. These artist fellows are apt to be a bit
+swollen-headed for my taste, but Lucas Vernon's a sportsman."</p>
+
+<p>She appreciated the distinction succinctly indicated.</p>
+
+<p>"He does sound nice," she said. "Oh, I wish everybody had enough money!"</p>
+
+<p>Frank drew another distinction.</p>
+
+<p>"Everybody who deserved it, anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Ellen softly, "if I had the arrangement of things, I would
+risk it and give <i>everybody</i> enough. It makes me so unhappy to see
+people longing for things they can never possibly get&mdash;whether they
+deserve them or not."</p>
+
+<p>The young soldier looked at her oddly from the corner of his eye. Could
+it be possible that two people could sit so close together and speak in
+such <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>hushed confidence, and yet that one of them could be so strangely
+oblivious as not to know when she had laid her slender little finger on
+the other's open wound? He had the strictest notions of duty and of
+honor: it was absolutely essential she never should realize: but, alas!
+the sympathetic widow was playing the most divinely romantic waltz. To
+complete the horrible temptation, Ellen looked suddenly at him with her
+tender eyes shining and her delicate skin gently flushed and murmured&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It makes me wretched&mdash;I pity them so!"</p>
+
+<p>The waltz grew more romantic with every note, the temptation to feel
+this pity soothe his own wound more irresistible.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm one of 'em," he said.</p>
+
+<p>He endeavored to compromise with duty by throwing the most unfeeling
+ferocity into his confession; but even the best drilled soldier cannot
+simultaneously advance and stand where he was.</p>
+
+<p>Ellen's eyes were riveted on him now.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry. Have I said anything I shouldn't?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked distressed, and he realized he had overdone the ferocity.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, I assure you. I only meant I&mdash;I&mdash;well, one can't have
+everything." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p><p>He wished that delirious waltz would stop. It made it so hard to collect
+one's thoughts, and especially to recover the blank countenance he had
+managed to assume before he took this chair and heard that music and
+looked into those eyes. She smiled with playful kindness.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you so frightfully hard up?"</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't money! Oh, can't you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He didn't finish his sentence; nor did he need to. A sudden light dawned
+in Ellen's eyes; her lips instinctively parted; and then she turned her
+face away. And thus they sat for what seemed an hour, while the
+sympathetic widow poured out voluptuous harmonies without cessation.</p>
+
+<p>In reality it was only two minutes later that Mr. Walkingshaw and Andrew
+entered: the senior partner looking, for a habitual diner-out, curiously
+flushed after his mild indulgence in port; the junior partner's full
+cheeks bulging with the backwash of a lover's smile. Frank sprang up,
+and his brother, smiling even more affectionately, took his chair. At
+the same moment the widow stopped playing, and the scales seemed
+suddenly to fall from the young soldier's eyes. He saw himself as the
+most despicable villain in Europe, and Ellen as lost for ever, whether
+as sister or friend. So <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>distraught was he that he had nearly tried to
+open a mid-Victorian cabinet before he discovered it was not the door.
+Downstairs he hurried wildly, threw on an ulster and cap, and the front
+door banged behind him.</p>
+
+<p>The unhappy young man looked up at the circle of solemn mansions which
+towered above him, black against the dark gray heavens, and it seemed to
+him that each one as he passed it silently rebuked him; while the trees
+across the street, even though they were decidedly less solid, gave vent
+to their displeasure audibly. He had been brought up in the severest
+Scotch traditions, and though life in the army had vastly changed his
+outlook, it had in certain particulars but substituted "form" for
+"duty." To-night both standards rose spectrally and shook their awful
+fingers at him. He had let his heart get the better of his head! No
+member of his family (save luckless Jean) whom he ever knew or heard of
+had done such a thing before. Or if they had, the indiscretion had been
+judiciously hushed up, and the family escutcheon kept stainless. As for
+the divinity he had scandalized, she would never forgive him; she would
+always think of him as a traitor to his respectable brother!</p>
+
+<p>At this point a little star peeped out of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>hurrying clouds and
+vanished again instantly. It was as though some power above had winked.</p>
+
+<p>On he strode through the steep, empty streets, lines of black freestone
+houses, built by regular church-goers and unbreathed upon by scandal
+ever since, frowning upon him perpetually; and the wind, which had risen
+greatly, wailing and booming all sorts of morals. And now a fresh
+trouble agitated him. He was growing less contrite! He kept seeing his
+brother's bulging cheeks, and Ellen's innocent, kind smile, and all
+sorts of backslidings suggested themselves. He had been criminal enough
+to fall in love, and now was added another crime&mdash;he could not fall out
+again. Never had he dreamt of such depths of depravity in him, Frank
+Walkingshaw.</p>
+
+<p>Again a little star twinkled for an instant.</p>
+
+<p>It was a full two hours later that he returned home, footsore (for he
+had been walking in his pumps) and with a mind as far from calm as ever.
+He assumed that everybody would be in bed, but no sooner had he shut the
+door than Jean appeared, flying downstairs to meet him.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she cried, with a note of disappointment, "I hoped it was the
+doctor!"</p>
+
+<p>"The doctor!" he exclaimed. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p><p>"Hush!" she whispered, and came close up to him. "Father has suddenly
+been taken very ill."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Andrew also appeared, to see who had entered. He looked
+portentously grave.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said, "what have I been saying? It's happened just exactly as
+anybody but a fool might have known it would&mdash;just precisely. He's no
+one to blame but himself for it&mdash;and his precious Mrs. Dunbar."</p>
+
+<p>He rubbed his hands almost pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>"That quack's done for him&mdash;and his wine to-night finished the job.
+Well, I warned him against both. People that will not take advice must
+bide the consequences. Are you going to stay up for Dr. Mackenzie,
+Jean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well then, I might as well get off to my bed. If there's any immediate
+danger,"&mdash;his face grew very solemn,&mdash;"if the end's expected in the
+night, or anything like that, just knock on my door."</p>
+
+<p>The junior partner bade them a grave good-night and retired; and such
+imaginative persons as are not satisfied with this bald record of facts,
+may picture him either as offering up a brief prayer for his father's
+happy recovery, or meditating upon the image of his betrothed&mdash;or both.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h3>
+
+<p>Fortunately, it proved unnecessary to disturb the junior partner during
+the night, but next morning, when he had heard the doctor's report and
+personally visited the sick-bed, he took the most serious view of the
+situation. He summoned his two married sisters, urging them to lose no
+time; he spent only half an hour at the office; and then he sat down
+with his <i>Scotsman</i> in the library (his Bible accessible in case of
+emergencies) to await the developments that he grieved to think were now
+practically inevitable. The doctor had paid a second visit and given the
+gloomiest report. Put in a nutshell, it came to this: that he could make
+neither head nor tail of his patient's symptoms, but that, as they were
+clearly the result of a course of treatment at the hands of an
+unqualified practitioner, it was improbable that Mr. Walkingshaw would
+recover from the consequences of his error.</p>
+
+<p>In the afternoon he was told that his father would like to see him. He
+had finished the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span><i>Scotsman</i> and begun a conversation with his betrothed
+in a gently facetious vein, but it took him not a moment to adjust his
+features to the rigidity of an urn, and save for the faint squeaking of
+his boots, he ascended the stairs with noiseless solemnity. He found Mr.
+Walkingshaw propped up on pillows and breathing heavily. The demeanor of
+both was exactly becoming to the situation.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you suffering much pain?" inquired the son in a hushed voice.</p>
+
+<p>"It comes and goes," sighed the father. "It was just diabolical a few
+minutes ago; now it's a wee thing better, thanks."</p>
+
+<p>"A kind of temporary relief," suggested the son.</p>
+
+<p>"Possibly, possibly. I'd like to think it was going to last, though."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could hold out hopes," said Andrew sympathetically.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw stirred suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"The doctor's not given me up yet, surely?" he exclaimed in a louder
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, hush! It'll only hurry things if you let yourself get excited."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Andrew, my dear boy, tell me what he said to you." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p><p>The junior partner shook his head, kindly but resolutely.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no; not yet awhile. So long as your mind remains clear, just keep
+composed; and then, when you feel any decided change, I'll hold nothing
+back from you, and we can get the rest of the family round the bedside.
+You'll agree that's the best thing."</p>
+
+<p>The orthodoxy of this programme ought, one would think, to have soothed
+the W.S. But it is strange what fancies sick men take.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't agree at all," said Mr. Walkingshaw warmly. "In fact, I may
+tell you Cyrus warned me there might be kind of temporary
+complications."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at his son for a moment and then added, with sudden decision&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Andrew, I'd like to see Cyrus."</p>
+
+<p>A grim smile dilated Andrew's cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll have to catch him first. He's off."</p>
+
+<p>"Off?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bolted this morning as soon as he heard he'd done for you. I hear he
+owes a couple of hundred pounds in the town, one way and another. That's
+your Professor for you!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw groaned. His son thought it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>well to improve the
+occasion, since he did not expect to have many more.</p>
+
+<p>"Him and his radio-electricity! What was it he was going to do&mdash;renew
+the cells of the body?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, why shouldn't cells be renewed?" protested the invalid weakly.</p>
+
+<p>"There will be," said his son facetiously. "He'll find himself in one
+again or I'm mistaken."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw lay silent for a few minutes. Then suddenly he groaned.</p>
+
+<p>"Another of them coming on!" he muttered, and twisted his face away.</p>
+
+<p>It was a few minutes more before he spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"I trust they'll catch the rascal! Andrew, my boy, can you not do
+anything to assist the police?"</p>
+
+<p>It was impressive to see how adequately the junior partner handled each
+fresh development of the situation. At these last words he looked
+exceedingly grave.</p>
+
+<p>"Had your thoughts not better be turning to other things?" he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>The invalid's head started forward from the pillow.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you have the kindness to mind your own&mdash;" he began; and then, in
+judgment, another spasm assailed him. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p><p>Andrew closed his eyes, drew down the corners of his mouth, and his lips
+moved silently but evidently piously. It was impossible to remain
+callous to such an elevating influence.</p>
+
+<p>"You are right, Andrew; you are right," said his father. "And now, just
+supposing I was taken, you'll see that affair of Guthrie and Co. through
+the way we decided on?"</p>
+
+<p>Andrew opened his eyes immediately and exhibited a fresh instance of his
+adaptability to each changing circumstance.</p>
+
+<p>"I've just been thinking of a better method still," he answered
+promptly. "Why should the creditors get any more than they're legally
+entitled to? You mind yon five thousand pounds invested in the Grand
+Trunk Railway?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly, perfectly."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, when one goes into the thing, they've really no more than a moral
+right to that; and if one once begins on moral rights, there's no end to
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"That sounds a bit worldly-wise, Andrew; but as you like&mdash;as you like."</p>
+
+<p>His junior partner regarded him severely.</p>
+
+<p>"I may remind you that I'm only following your own precepts." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p><p>"One says things in health that one repents of on a bed of sickness.
+Manage Guthrie and Co. as you like, but don't quote me if you mean to
+neglect moral obligations. I had the decency never to quote my own
+father, and it's the least you can do for yours, Andrew."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew still looked displeased. It seemed to his fastidious ears that
+there was an unpleasant smack of something remotely resembling cynicism
+in this speech. It sounded almost as though he were expected to
+acquiesce in the outrageous proposition that members of his family
+occasionally allowed moral to be overridden by practical considerations.
+He could not conceive of himself admitting the possibility of such a
+thing even in the secret recesses of his soul. It was most uncomfortable
+to listen to his own father going on like this. He must be very ill
+indeed&mdash;evidently at death's door.</p>
+
+<p>He walked to the window and looked out gloomily upon the gray clouds
+driving over the black chimney-cans. The wind had risen to a moderate
+gale, and the air was filled with sounds. It struck him as a very
+uproarious day for a Writer to the Signet to be going to his long home.
+He had given his father credit for soberer tastes. In fact, he was
+reminded unpleasantly of the riotous people <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>he had heard of who passed
+away in company with a pint of champagne and a cigar. This sort of thing
+would really not do.</p>
+
+<p>"About my will, Andrew," said his father's voice.</p>
+
+<p>He turned with remarkable alacrity and a forgiving eye. At once he was
+the deferential offspring.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll find you're left very well off," continued Mr. Walkingshaw.</p>
+
+<p>His son's cheeks bulged in a melancholy smile; precisely the right smile
+under the circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at the expense of the others, I hope," he answered modestly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I was meaning you'd be well off as a family."</p>
+
+<p>The smile subsided.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I beg your pardon," said Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>"But of course you'll get the bulk."</p>
+
+<p>The smile mournfully returned.</p>
+
+<p>"You have the position to keep up, and I thought it only fair to you,"
+said Mr. Walkingshaw.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew bent his head in solemn acknowledgment of the truth of this
+observation and the justice of the arrangement. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p><p>"There's just one little addendum I want to make. This unpleasant affair
+of Jean's has set me thinking, and supposing I'm taken, Andrew&mdash;just
+supposing&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Assuming it's as we fear&mdash;I understand, I understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, you see, I'll not be here myself to keep Frank and Jean
+from doing foolish-like things if they happen to have a mind to; and
+they're not like you and their sisters. You've all chosen sensibly, but
+they're in a kind of way different. I ought to have had them educated at
+home."</p>
+
+<p>"What I've always said," his son agreed.</p>
+
+<p>"Anyhow, it's too late now, and what I'll just have to do is
+this&mdash;introduce a clause making them forfeit their shares if they marry
+without your consent in the next five years."</p>
+
+<p>"Would ten not be safer?" suggested Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll say seven, then. And of course you'll not withhold your consent
+unreasonably? I'll trust you for that."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew's attitude expressed to such perfection the confidence that might
+be reposed in him that his father shed him a satisfied smile.</p>
+
+<p>"And now," said he, "I wonder had you not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>better get me my will?&mdash;or we
+might wait till to-morrow, and see how I'm feeling then."</p>
+
+<p>If the junior partner had looked grave before, he looked funereal now.</p>
+
+<p>"Your mind's clear now," he said. "I wouldn't put it off."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well," said Mr. Walkingshaw, "there are my keys on the
+dressing-table: you know where to find the will."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew went downstairs as solemnly as he had come up, and with the same
+faint squeak. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h3>
+
+<p>It never occurred to Frank and Jean to blame their father in any way for
+electing so boisterous a day for his probable decease. Clearly they had
+not so fine an instinct for respectability as their brother. Their
+orthodoxy, compared with his, was built upon a sandy foundation: warm
+hearts can never hope to sustain, in its impressive equipoise, the head
+of an Andrew Walkingshaw. One might as well expect to find sap running
+up the legs of his office stool.</p>
+
+<p>That afternoon they instinctively drifted away from the others and sat
+unhappily together. The gusty booming of the wind and the clash of
+branches in the garden across the gale-scourged street tormented them
+with fancies. It seemed as though a thousand riotous misfortunes were
+buffeting their hearts.</p>
+
+<p>"Rain!" cried Jean, with a little start and then a shiver.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it beastly?" muttered Frank, his eyes on the carpet. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p><p>It came on with the sudden violence of a thunder-clap. In a moment the
+tossing trees became gesticulating ghosts seen dimly through a veil of
+glistening rods of water sharply diagonal&mdash;nearly horizontal; and even
+through the musketry rattle on the window-panes they could hear the
+pavement hiss beneath their deluge.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Frank dear!" murmured Jean.</p>
+
+<p>Giving way to illogical tenderness, the young soldier took her hand and
+held it.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, the least turn for hard argument would have reassured them.
+The storm would blow over; they could find new lovers; their father,
+even suppose he died, would receive suitable interment. Besides, they
+would be the richer by his decease. But they remained foolishly moved.</p>
+
+<p>"If anything does happen to father," said Jean sorrowfully, "I shall
+never forgive myself."</p>
+
+<p>Frank looked surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive yourself&mdash;for what?"</p>
+
+<p>"For not loving him more. I almost hated him yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>Her voice sank very low and she looked apprehensively at her brother.
+But he did not rebuke her as he ought. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p><p>"It's jolly difficult to love him sometimes," he admitted sadly.</p>
+
+<p>She seemed to gain courage.</p>
+
+<p>"Frank," she said, "have you <i>ever</i> actually felt as affectionate about
+him as one ought?"</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"He never struck me as wanting that kind of thing. I've respected him,
+of course."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, so have I&mdash;enormously."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Frank, "that's all he wanted out of us, I fancy."</p>
+
+<p>"Still," she murmured, "we might have given him something more."</p>
+
+<p>"'Pon my word, I don't know what he'd have done with it."</p>
+
+<p>She could not but admit that that, in fact, was just the difficulty. The
+cultivation of sentiment had not been included in Mr. Walkingshaw's
+youthful curriculum. His father before him had enjoyed but two forms of
+relaxation from his daily burden of obligations to clients and Calvin&mdash;a
+glass of good claret, and a primitive form of golf played with a missile
+of feathers in the interstices of a tract of whins. His mother had not
+even these amusements. Small wonder Heriot <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>Walkingshaw found it a
+little difficult to sympathize with soft creatures who demanded
+hot-water bottles at night and affection by day. Jean had a weakness for
+both, and had only managed to obtain the hot bottle&mdash;and even that was a
+secret.</p>
+
+<p>The deluge continued and the wind bellowed. Lower and lower sank their
+spirits.</p>
+
+<p>"I sometimes wish I were more like Andrew," sighed Jean.</p>
+
+<p>The young soldier started.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Heaven forbid!" he exclaimed, and then in a moment added in a low
+voice, "I wish I had his luck, though."</p>
+
+<p>Jean softly pressed his hand. She understood.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you had, Frank," she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>As if in rebuking answer to these impious desires, the portly form of
+Andrew filled the doorway. He looked like the reincarnation of all the
+mourners who had ever followed a hearse.</p>
+
+<p>"He is worse," he said in a sepulchral voice. "The end's not far off.
+You had better come up and see him."</p>
+
+<p>In the sick chamber they found already assembled Miss Walkingshaw, Mrs.
+Dunbar, Ellen (who kept in the background and never caught Frank's eye
+once), and their two elder sisters. Of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>this pair, Maggie, the eldest of
+them all, had long been coupled with Andrew as the two greatest credits
+to the family. She was the wife (and incidentally, it was said, the
+making) of Ramornie of Pettigrew, a laird of good estate in the kingdom
+of Fife. Her business capacity was almost equal to her brother's. She
+had extracted Pettigrew from the hands of the friends who had been
+"doing him no good," paid off the bonds on his property, presented him
+with three creditable children, including the necessary heir male, and
+would undoubtedly have put him into Parliament could she have ensured
+her own presence always at his side. But as he would have to deliver his
+speeches himself, even if she composed them, she was content with making
+him a deputy-lieutenant. In person this lady suggested the junior
+partner as well as in mind. She, however, was blonde, and though her
+cheeks took after his, her upper lip was not quite so substantial.</p>
+
+<p>Gertrude, the second sister, was now Mrs. Donaldson, wife of Hector
+Donaldson, advocate. At the time, it was considered a middling sort of
+marriage; since his cross-examination of the co-respondent in Macpherson
+<i>v.</i> Macpherson and Tattenham-Welby, it had been considered a creditable
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>marriage; and if his practice continued its present rate of increase,
+it would soon become a good marriage. In any case, she had justified the
+Walkingshaw reputation for investing money or person soundly and
+shrewdly. She resembled her father, and he had always been considered a
+fine-looking man. Both Andrew and Maggie thought she got too many of her
+clothes in London. They made her a little conspicuous, and they hoped
+she could afford it. Still, one heard very encouraging things said of
+Hector nowadays.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw was evidently weakening. He lay back with his eyes
+closed till they were all assembled, and then Andrew, who seemed to have
+the entire management of the melancholy ceremony, stepped up to the
+bedside and, with lowered eyelids, murmured&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"They are all here now."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw opened his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm likely to be taken," he said in a weak voice. "Andrew'll have told
+you."</p>
+
+<p>He paused: and one little stifled sob was heard, too gentle to catch his
+ear. It came from Jean.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd just like to say a word to you all before <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>I go. I've tried my best
+to do my duty by my children and my sister and my kinsfolk."</p>
+
+<p>At this specific inclusion of herself the sympathetic widow could keep
+silence no longer.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed you have, Heriot!" she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" said Andrew sternly.</p>
+
+<p>"Let them say what they feel, Andrew," said his father, with a glance of
+melancholy kindness at the widow. "It's natural enough."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ramornie at once took that hint, and her brief words of eulogy were
+corroborated by a general murmur.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, thank you," said Mr. Walkingshaw. "I may possibly have made
+mistakes now and then&mdash;I am but human. At the same time, I think there's
+none will gainsay I've shown a kind of respectable example. It's a great
+thing to be thankful for if one can die without making an exhibition of
+oneself&mdash;a great thing to be thankful for."</p>
+
+<p>The master of ceremonies by a grave glance indicated to the company that
+another approving murmur would be appropriate, and his own voice led the
+hum.</p>
+
+<p>"I've another thing to be thankful for," resumed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>the invalid, "and
+that's my eldest son. Andrew'll take good care of you all&mdash;of you and
+the business both. Oh, Frank, my lad, he's a fine example to you; just
+as your sister Maggie is to you, Jean. Mind you both follow them. You'll
+never give folks reason to talk about you then. Don't get yourselves
+talked about! That's the main thing. Of course, you'll take every
+opportunity of bettering yourselves, both of you; but do it in a kind of
+sober, decent way. Do it like Andrew: I can say no more than that."</p>
+
+<p>All eyes were sadly fixed on the two distressed young people, but they
+made no answer, and the affecting scene now terminated with these last
+few words&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"If by any kind of chance it happens I'm given a year or two more after
+all, I'll take no more part in worldly matters. I'll leave things to
+you, Andrew, just the same as if I was gone. If I linger on, a chastened
+man, taking for a wee while an interest in your welfare, that's all that
+will be left to me&mdash;that's the whole I look forward to."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew's sorrowful eyes replied, "And that's more than we do," as he
+silently shook his father's hand. Then the company tiptoed sadly out of
+the sick-room. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h3>
+
+<p>Of all the anticipatory mourners, the most demonstrative was the
+sympathetic widow. She could barely control her emotion till she reached
+the drawing-room. There she broke down quite.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mary, Mary!" she sobbed.</p>
+
+<p>They were alone together&mdash;Mary, commonly styled Miss Walkingshaw, and
+she. The exemplary spinster was likewise distressed, but in a calmer
+manner, as became a lady who had shared Heriot's Spartan upbringing.</p>
+
+<p>"Whisht, whisht," said she. "He'll maybe get over it yet."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;no, he won't! That horrible beast will see that he doesn't!"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Walkingshaw started nervously.</p>
+
+<p>"You're not meaning the nurse?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that&mdash;ugh!&mdash;that Andrew!"</p>
+
+<p>A bright pink spot appeared in each of Miss Walkingshaw's cheeks. But
+the widow was too agitated to observe either them or the horrified stare
+with which she greeted this outburst. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p><p>"I believe he would <i>kill</i> him to spite me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Madge!" said the exemplary spinster in a voice which for the first time
+reminded her of Heriot's.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dunbar collected herself. Doubtless she realized the injustice she
+was doing that excellent man.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry, Mary," she said gently. "I don't know what I'm saying. I
+admire Andrew as much as any one. I didn't mean it. It was only that I
+felt I <i>had</i> to blame some one for this terrible sorrow."</p>
+
+<p>Her friend continued to look at her with decidedly diminished warmth.</p>
+
+<p>"Our religion forbids us&mdash;" she began austerely; but the sympathetic
+widow hurriedly anticipated her.</p>
+
+<p>"I know, I know, dear&mdash;so it does. How true, Mary; oh, how true! How
+sweet of you to remind me."</p>
+
+<p>She turned her large black eyes, glistening pathetically, full upon her
+friend; but for some reason Mary continued to regard her with a new and
+curious expression. A trace of suspicion seemed to be among its
+ingredients.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile her slandered nephew was in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>library with his two elder
+sisters. The gas was now lit and the storm curtained out. Mrs. Ramornie
+and Andrew talked in decorously lowered voices; Mrs. Donaldson more
+loudly, and almost more airily, as became her dashing appearance and
+smart reputation. Yet she too had a nice sense of the solemnity of the
+occasion, and they forgave her elevated voice, since they knew several
+people of rank who talked like that.</p>
+
+<p>"An irretrievable loss," Andrew was saying; "an irretrievable loss."</p>
+
+<p>They agreed with him as heartily as people could who were feeling so
+depressed.</p>
+
+<p>"A public loss," he added; and again they concurred.</p>
+
+<p>"That will have to be taken into consideration in making the
+arrangements," he went on.</p>
+
+<p>They looked graver than ever.</p>
+
+<p>"Something like Sir James Maitland's?" suggested Mrs. Donaldson.</p>
+
+<p>"Something of the sort," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"I only hope it will not be a wet day," said Mrs. Ramornie. "George
+caught lumbago at his last funeral&mdash;Lord Pitcullo's, you know."</p>
+
+<p>George was the laird of Pettigrew. Nowadays his wife saw that he mixed
+with none but the most <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>desirable company, whether it were alive or
+dead.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my dear, he must come over for it!" said her sister.</p>
+
+<p>"He will," replied Mrs. Ramornie; and they knew that point was settled.</p>
+
+<p>"To tell the honest truth, I'm devoutly thankful for one thing,"
+observed Andrew, with the first smile he had permitted himself, and even
+it was appropriately grim: "this will put Madge Dunbar's nose out of
+joint."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank Heaven for that!" replied Mrs. Ramornie devoutly.</p>
+
+<p>"She meant to get him," said Mrs. Donaldson. "I never saw a woman try
+harder."</p>
+
+<p>"If you'd been living in the house, you'd have seen still more of her
+trying," replied her brother.</p>
+
+<p>Another fierce shower beat upon the window, with it the gale rose higher
+and the branches clashed more noisily. Even behind curtains one felt in
+the presence of something elemental. Silence fell on the three, and when
+they spoke again it was more solemnly than ever.</p>
+
+<p>"It will make a considerable difference to us all, of course," said Mrs.
+Donaldson.</p>
+
+<p>Her brother seemed to take this as a question, for he nodded gravely and
+answered&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, decidedly it will make that."</p>
+
+<p>She mused for a moment and then turned to her sister.</p>
+
+<p>"What was the name of the shoot the Hendersons had last season?"</p>
+
+<p>"Glenfiddle."</p>
+
+<p>"They paid two hundred, didn't they?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two hundred and twenty," said Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>He was a mine of information on the affairs of his acquaintances,
+especially on what they paid for things.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you not get enough invitations in the meantime?" asked Mrs.
+Ramornie.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dozens. But we want a little shoot of our own&mdash;when we can afford
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"I only mean to build that new conservatory we've always been talking
+about," said Mrs. Ramornie; and Andrew pursed his lips and nodded his
+approval. The pursing was meant as a hint of criticism on their too
+dashing sister.</p>
+
+<p>It was at that moment that there came the first gentle tap upon the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in," said Andrew, and the invalid's nurse entered.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Walkingshaw would like a pint bottle of champagne," said she. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p><p>The junior partner stared first at her and then at his sisters. They in
+turn opened their eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it the&mdash;er&mdash;usual thing?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"The doctor said nothing about it. Who would ever imagine he was going
+to want champagne again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Is it ever given?" asked Andrew cautiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know it's given," interposed Mrs. Ramornie decisively. "George's
+uncle drank it up to five minutes before he died."</p>
+
+<p>George's uncle had been a very bad example. At the same time he had been
+a baronet, and Andrew swithered between the dissoluteness of the request
+and a certain stylishness it undoubtedly possessed.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Walkingshaw is very determined for it," said the nurse.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," he answered. "I'll get it for you."</p>
+
+<p>He went out with her and then returned to his sisters.</p>
+
+<p>"Does it mean the end is near?" asked Mrs. Donaldson in a very hushed
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"It means it's nearer," he answered grimly.</p>
+
+<p>Undoubtedly this was a wild end for one of the most respectable lives
+ever lived in Edinburgh. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>Outside, the gale was now positively
+shrieking; and inside, he presumed the cork was already popping.</p>
+
+<p>"What a pity!" said Gertrude.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know about that," replied her sister. "It keeps them happy.
+George's uncle tried to sing after they thought all was over."</p>
+
+<p>Her brother frowned. The possibility that the head of Walkingshaw &amp;
+Gilliflower might exit singing exceeded his gloomiest forebodings. He
+wished women did not have that habit of talking about unpleasant things.
+Could they not keep the like of that to themselves?</p>
+
+<p>Even as he frowned the second tap disturbed them.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it now?" he snapped.</p>
+
+<p>"Could you tell me," asked the nurse, "where Mr. Walkingshaw keeps his
+cigars?"</p>
+
+<p>"Cigars!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"He is very set upon one."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew silently opened a cupboard and handed her a box of cigars. Then,
+still in silence, he seated himself before the fire and frowned at the
+dancing flames. Behind his back his sisters talked in low voices, but he
+seemed to have no taste for further conversation.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later came the third tap, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>this time there was so
+curious a look in the nurse's face that the junior partner was on his
+feet in an instant.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it&mdash;shall we come up?" he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Walkingshaw would like to know what there's to be for dinner," said
+the nurse.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at his sisters and they at him, and then he rang the bell.
+Nobody spoke till the butler came up.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you ask the cook what's for dinner? Mr. Walkingshaw wants to
+know."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew threw into this speech all the concentrated bitterness of his
+soul. Here was the quintessence of unorthodoxy in the very home of
+Walkingshaw &amp; Gilliflower! The head of the firm proposed to die not
+merely drinking and smoking, but, if possible, feasting. They might be
+in some wretched Bohemian den.</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes the butler returned with a menu. Andrew read it with a
+sardonic smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell him," he said, "that he can have cocky-leeky soup, boiled cod and
+oyster sauce, loin of mutton, apple charlotte, and cheese straws&mdash;any or
+all of them he likes."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said the nurse.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew planted himself before the fire. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p><p>"A fine story this is to get about!" he exclaimed darkly.</p>
+
+<p>"But surely father must be light-headed," said Mrs. Ramornie.</p>
+
+<p>"Umph," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>He clearly did not consider this a very creditable excuse.</p>
+
+<p>"Or perhaps he is really feeling better," suggested Gertrude.</p>
+
+<p>"Better! A man at death's door one minute&mdash;given up by the doctors&mdash;and
+wanting to eat his dinner the next!"</p>
+
+<p>He started.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder's that nurse fooling us! I didn't like the look of the woman
+from the moment she came into the house. I don't believe in your
+good-looking nurses."</p>
+
+<p>On this point his sisters cordially agreed with him. Still they didn't
+believe it was the nurse.</p>
+
+<p>"Then what is it?" he demanded. "If he's light-headed, why does she pay
+any attention to him?"</p>
+
+<p>The door opened, this time without a tap, and in petrified silence they
+beheld the portly form of Heriot Walkingshaw, arrayed in a yellow
+dressing-gown, holding between his fingers a cigar, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>smiling upon
+them with a curious blend of satisfaction and meekness.</p>
+
+<p>"I have recovered," said he.</p>
+
+<p>As he made this simple announcement he blew luxuriously through his nose
+two thin streams of smoke, while the meekness of his aspect seemed to
+make some conscious effort to keep on terms with the satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>A duet of questions and exclamations arose from the two ladies, and
+again some conscious restraint appeared to underlie the paternal calm
+with which he answered them.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said he, "it is probably one of the most extraordinary recoveries
+on record. It began all of a sudden. The spasms passed completely away,
+my temperature fell to normal, and I felt a curious sensation almost of
+exhilaration. It grew stronger and stronger till at last I could keep in
+bed no longer. I felt livelier than I have for years."</p>
+
+<p>He passed the cigar under his nose, drew in his breath, and smiled at it
+with a kind of partially chastened affection.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think could we not have dinner put on a little earlier, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>A cry from the open door startled them. The <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>sympathetic widow, her
+black eyes dilated, was gazing at the patient.</p>
+
+<p>"Heriot!" she exclaimed, and there was a note in her voice that came
+very near to damping the junior partner's enthusiasm at finding the head
+of his firm restored to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Madge," said Mr. Walkingshaw, his beatific smile still blander, "I
+have indeed been spared."</p>
+
+<p>He drew another deep whiff from his cigar, and added gently&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"For maybe a few more years of quiet usefulness." </p>
+
+<hr class="biggest" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 80-82]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="PART_II" id="PART_II"></a>PART II </h2>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER I</h3>
+
+<p>Down the steep street where stands the office of Walkingshaw &amp;
+Gilliflower, careers a hat. It is a silk hat and of a large size, the
+hat of a professional man of the most dignified standing and evident
+brain capacity. Nothing could show better the innate depravity of March
+winds than their choice of such a hat to play with. They had thousands
+to choose from&mdash;bowlers, caps, wideawakes, all kinds of commonplace
+head-gear&mdash;and here they have selected for their sport this cylinder of
+silk, symbolical of all most worthy of the city's respect. It leaps and
+bumps and slides, propelled by the breeze and the law of gravitation,
+down the decorously paved hill, in company with a little cloud of dust
+and some scraps of dirty paper. And behind it, now at a canter, now at a
+panting trot, ambles the portly form of Mr. Heriot Walkingshaw. The very
+devil must be in the wind to-day.</p>
+
+<p>At the corner of Queen Street the hat met the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>full force of the
+easterly blast, and bidding good-by to gravitation, turned at right
+angles and skimmed for forty yards through space as though the brothers
+Wright had mounted it. Then it resumed the action of a Rugby football,
+pitching now on its end and now on its middle, and behaving accordingly
+each time. Mr. Walkingshaw, perceiving that it was now bouncing in the
+direction he desired to go, fell for a moment to a walk and looked
+around for some assistant. But the only spectators within hail happened
+to be two errand boys who had not seen a circus for some time and
+evinced no desire to interrupt the entertainment. So off he started
+again, his white spats twinkling beneath his flapping overcoat, and
+covered the first fifty yards in such promising fashion that he was able
+to strike the revolving rim a series of smart raps with his umbrella
+before the wind had recovered its breath. Then suddenly up leapt the
+hat, cannoned from a lamp-post on to the railings of the Queen Street
+Gardens, from them across the pavement into the gutter, and there,
+getting nicely on edge, careered like a hoop, with the thud of Heriot's
+footsteps growing fainter behind.</p>
+
+<p>Down the next cross street came two acquaintances <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>of the Writer to the
+Signet, and they stopped at the corner in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"Good God, that's Heriot Walkingshaw!" cried one.</p>
+
+<p>"A man of his age!" replied the other; "he's running like a wing
+three-quarter&mdash;look at his stride!"</p>
+
+<p>A benevolent lady half stopped the hat with her umbrella. The W.S. was
+up to it. He stooped to reach it&mdash;a quick grab and he had it by the rim.</p>
+
+<p>"Well picked up, sir!" cried one of the acquaintances.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw did not hear. He was on the other side of the street and
+engrossed in brushing his quarry with his coat sleeve.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a wonderful performance," remarked the other acquaintance; "but it
+ought just about to finish him."</p>
+
+<p>"Will it? Look at him&mdash;he hasn't turned a hair!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's amazing&mdash;positively amazing!" they murmured together as they
+watched their elderly friend not only replace his trophy on his head,
+but cock it at an angle that breathed reckless defiance to the March
+winds. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p><p>"Did you ever see Heriot Walkingshaw with his hat at that angle before?"</p>
+
+<p>"As often as I've seen him do even time chasing it!"</p>
+
+<p>Off he strode, breathing faster than usual, and his hat still a little
+ruffled, but otherwise as jaunty a figure as ever left an office; while
+his two acquaintances went away to narrate to the wondering city what
+their astonished eyes had seen.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Meanwhile the junior partner was unburdening his soul to the
+confidential clerk.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the end of Guthrie and Co.!" he exclaimed wrathfully. "The whole
+thing settled in a fortnight&mdash;we might be a marriage registry! It's just
+been 'we agree to this,' 'we agree to that,' 'we agree to anything you
+suggest.' We haven't fought a single point. I'd have made those
+creditors whistle a bit before they saw yon five thousand pounds! But
+what's my father say? You heard him yourself&mdash;'moral obligation'&mdash;'might
+be fought!'&mdash;'get it settled.' He's botched the whole business."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Thomieson shook his grizzled head.</p>
+
+<p>"It's certainly not been our usual way of doing business." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p><p>Andrew glowered at his desk.</p>
+
+<p>"He said he was going to leave the business to me, and in forty-eight
+hours he was taking more responsibilities on his shoulders than he had
+for years! He barely has the decency to ask me for my opinion now; and
+when I give it, he tells me it's timid. Timid!" The junior partner's
+voice rose to a shout. "He just goes at things like a bull, and before
+I've time to get in two words edgeways, the thing is settled and he's
+out of the office whistling!"</p>
+
+<p>"That whistling's a queer thing he's taken to," observed the clerk.</p>
+
+<p>"He was doing it coming home from church last Sunday."</p>
+
+<p>"Verra strange, verra strange," commented Mr. Thomieson.</p>
+
+<p>He seemed more struck with the peculiarity of the senior partner's
+conduct; Andrew with its offensiveness.</p>
+
+<p>"He shows a fine grasp of things all the same," added the clerk. "In
+that way it fairly does me good sir, to see him so speerited. It minds
+me of old times."</p>
+
+<p>"A proper like business we'd have had to-day if he'd gone on like this
+in old times!" grumbled <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>Andrew. "He gets through things quick enough, I
+admit; but I tell you he does not take the same interest in them. He
+talks of 'dry details'!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is that so?" said Mr. Thomieson, his eyes opening.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a fact. And he's started cracking jokes with the clerks."</p>
+
+<p>"Aye, I heard him yesterday myself. It sounded awful bad in this
+office."</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you what it'll end in," said Andrew. "It'll end in our losing
+our business&mdash;that'll be the end of it. And this is what he calls 'a few
+years of quiet usefulness'!"</p>
+
+<p>The junior partner's upper lip seemed to hang like a curtain half
+covering his face. Behind it he swore so distinctly that the
+confidential clerk discreetly withdrew. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER II</h3>
+
+<p>"It's quite remarkable how well I'm keeping&mdash;quite astonishing," said
+Mr. Walkingshaw to himself, as he continued his walk with his recovered
+hat perched at the angle that had so surprised his acquaintances.</p>
+
+<p>A month had passed since the stormy afternoon when he had said farewell
+to his family, and he now looked back upon that adieu as the rashest and
+most premature act of his life. Andrew must have frightened him; that
+was the only conceivable excuse for his conduct, seen in the white light
+of his present rude health; and he secretly decided that the junior
+partner had been getting a little too much rope. If you once let these
+lads kick up their heels, the deuce was in it. He would do nothing
+unjust, but he would see that he didn't encourage Andrew to alarm him
+again. Thus does the virtue even of the most exemplary occasionally
+over-exert itself.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, it was uncommonly pleasant to be able to chase one's hat for
+a quarter of a mile and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>feel not a twinge of gout or rheumatism after
+the merry pursuit. Mr. Walkingshaw felt half inclined to give his hat a
+start again. What a joke it would be to kick it over the railings next
+time! At this very undignified thought, he recollected himself and for a
+few minutes looked as decorously pompous as the head of the firm should.
+But somehow or other that run seemed to have stirred his blood. The fun
+of kicking his hat over the railings returned so forcibly that there
+spread over his ruddy face a smile which greatly surprised the wife of
+one of his most respected clients passing at that moment in her
+carriage. She too returned home to talk of Mr. Walkingshaw's curious
+demeanor in the public streets of his native city.</p>
+
+<p>The kicking fancy, by a natural chain of thought, reminded him that the
+England and Scotland International was being played next Saturday. He
+must be there, of course; and wouldn't he shout himself hoarse for
+Scotland! He had a moment's dismay when he remembered that old Berstoun
+had made an appointment to come in on Saturday and see him about his
+confounded money affairs. Then he cheered up again. Let the old chap be
+hanged! He would wire and put him off. In fact, he must be put off. For
+had not Madge Dunbar <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>promised to come to the match with him? By this
+time he had reached the door of his house, and it occurred to him
+forcibly that afternoon tea was always a much pleasanter function if
+Madge were present. He hoped she wouldn't be out calling.</p>
+
+<p>The dignified twilight of his hall sobered him considerably. He had been
+following a strangely frivolous line of thought, he told himself.
+Certainly he must never allow his hat to escape again. That run had
+quite upset his equanimity: he found himself going upstairs two steps at
+a time, and had to pause and shorten his stride.</p>
+
+<p>In the drawing-room he found his sister and the widow.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo!" said the W.S. before he could recollect himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo!" smiled the widow archly.</p>
+
+<p>He had felt ashamed of the exclamation the moment it escaped him, but
+finding it received so prettily, he secretly resolved to say it again
+some day&mdash;after a week or two had elapsed, perhaps; confining himself to
+more dignified remarks in the interval.</p>
+
+<p>"You look as though you had heard good news," said Mrs. Dunbar.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been chasing my hat," he chuckled. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p><p>He had meant to make no allusion to the undignified episode, and here he
+was blurting it out first thing! He began to feel puzzled by this odd
+persistence of high spirits.</p>
+
+<p>"Not in the street, surely?" said Miss Walkingshaw, with her longest
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I hope it was in the street!" cried the widow. "I'd have loved to
+see you!"</p>
+
+<p>Her dear friend regarded this speech with the strongest disapproval; in
+fact, she had never quite approved of Madge since those unlucky words of
+hers. But Mrs. Dunbar had ceased for some reason to show the same marked
+regard for her opinion. It was Heriot who had again refused to hear of
+her leaving, and she seemed content to win his approval.</p>
+
+<p>"It was in the street," smiled Mr. Walkingshaw. "I chased it for quite half a mile, and ran it down single-handed. I
+wish you had been there, Madge. You'd have seen there was life in the
+old dog still!"</p>
+
+<p>He had doubled the distance and forgotten the lady with the umbrella;
+but then, as Andrew had remarked, a distaste for dry detail had suddenly
+become characteristic of his recovered health. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p><p>"Too much life sometimes, I think!" she exclaimed coquettishly; and Mr.
+Walkingshaw winked in reply.</p>
+
+<p>He was inwardly as surprised at the wink as he had been at the "hullo."
+These aberrations seemed to come quite spontaneously. He wished he could
+understand what caused them.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you had a tiring day at the office?" asked the dry Scotch voice of
+his sister.</p>
+
+<p>Her familiar accents instinctively banished the aberrations.</p>
+
+<p>"Tolerably, tolerably," he said, with his old air. "We had the affairs
+of Guthrie and Co. to settle up. I settled them, though."</p>
+
+<p>"Andrew would be a great help," she replied, with an apprehensive glance
+at him. She was much in her nephew's confidence at present.</p>
+
+<p>"Andrew, pooh!" said his father. "He'd talk the hind leg off an
+elephant. When things need settling, I just settle them myself and leave
+him to grumble away to Thomieson."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Walkingshaw gasped, and the widow gave the sweetest little laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Andrew!" said she.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Andrew indeed," retorted her friend, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>with more indignation than
+she had almost ever permitted herself in the presence of her formidable
+brother.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her in genuine surprise. So subtly had his point of view
+altered that he quite failed to grasp her cause of complaint.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, Mary?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if you don't see, what's the good in my trying to explain?"</p>
+
+<p>He merely stared at her, and the widow tactfully interposed.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you are going to the match on Saturday?" said she.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, Madge."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you forgotten Mr. Berstoun is coming to see you?" asked Miss
+Walkingshaw.</p>
+
+<p>He waved aside this objection with a dignified sweep of his hand. A
+piece of cake happened to be in it, and the icing flew across the floor.
+On the instant he was on his hands and knees collecting it.</p>
+
+<p>"Berstoun's a mere nuisance," he answered from the carpet. "He'll never
+get out of debt if he lives to a thousand. What's the good in his coming
+to see me? Let him tell his creditors to go to the devil; that's the
+only sensible thing to do." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p><p>He rose chuckling&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"He'll go himself some day; so they'll meet again."</p>
+
+<p>His sister's face was too much for the widow's gravity. She began to
+laugh hysterically, her black eyes dancing all the time in the merriest
+fashion at her host. It was so infectious that in a moment he had joined
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't they?" he kept asking through his chuckles. "Won't they, Madge?"</p>
+
+<p>She kept nodding, choked with laughter, and another strange sensation
+began to puzzle Mr. Walkingshaw. It was not so much something new as
+something forgotten which was beginning to return, and it concerned this
+very sympathetic widow. She was an uncommonly nice woman&mdash;really
+uncommonly: and what an odd pleasure he began to feel in her society! He
+felt even more satisfaction than when he had run down his hat. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER III</h3>
+
+<p>It was upon a fine April morning that Mr. Walkingshaw made his momentous
+discovery. His sister had left her room on her way to breakfast when she
+heard his voice calling her. It had so curious a note of excitement that
+she got a little flustered. Whatever could be the matter? She hurried to
+his dressing-room door and tapped with a trembling hand. She was not
+easily agitated as a rule, but her brother had been very disconcerting
+for the past few weeks, and now his voice was odd. She remembered
+reading of gentlemen lying on their dressing-room floors with razors in
+their hands&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Come in!" he cried impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>She found him dressed all but his coat, and he was standing by the
+window looking out over the street and the circular garden.</p>
+
+<p>"Come here, Mary," he said, and pointed at the houses seen through the
+leafless trees. "Have they been doing anything to the Hendersons'
+house?"</p>
+
+<p>"What doing to it?" she exclaimed. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p><p>"Painting it, or brightening it, or&mdash;or anything of that kind?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who ever heard of painting a house!"</p>
+
+<p>From which it may be gathered that the good lady was not in the habit of
+visiting other cities.</p>
+
+<p>"Well then, washing it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Henderson washing his house! Whatever would he do that for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tuts, tuts," said her brother, "I'm only asking you. It looks so
+uncommonly distinct. Can you not count the chimney-cans?"</p>
+
+<p>"Me? You must get younger eyes than mine, Heriot."</p>
+
+<p>"I can count them," he answered.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>You</i> can! But I thought you'd been complaining you couldn't always
+recognize people across the street nowadays."</p>
+
+<p>"I can count those chimneys," he repeated. "I've counted them five
+times, and they come to fourteen each time. I'd like to get some one
+younger to count them too. Where's Madge Dunbar?"</p>
+
+<p>He started impetuously for the door.</p>
+
+<p>"She's dressing!" cried the horrified lady. "You can't get her in
+here&mdash;you with your coat off, too!" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p><p>Mr. Walkingshaw turned back.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, anyhow," said he, "I'll lay you half a crown there are fourteen
+chimneys on Henderson's house. Will you take it up?"</p>
+
+<p>"When did you hear I'd taken to betting?" she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>He waved aside the reproach airily, much as he waved aside everything
+she said nowadays, the poor lady reflected. His next words merely
+deepened her distress.</p>
+
+<p>"Look at my face carefully," he commanded. "Study it&mdash;touch it if you
+like&mdash;examine it with a lens&mdash;give it your undivided attention while I
+count twenty."</p>
+
+<p>He counted slowly, while she stared conscientiously, afraid even to
+wink. "Now, what have you observed?"</p>
+
+<p>"You're looking very well, Heriot," she answered timidly.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you ever see a man of my age look better?"</p>
+
+<p>"N&mdash;no," she stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, don't be afraid to say so, for it's perfectly true. Do you mind a
+kind of deep wrinkle under my eyes? Where's that gone now?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't imagine, Heriot." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p><p>"Well, don't look distressed; it's bonnier away."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said in a flustered voice, "you do have a kind of smoother
+look."</p>
+
+<p>"Smoother and harder," he replied, prodding his ribs with his fingers.</p>
+
+<p>She gave a little cry of distress.</p>
+
+<p>"You're growing thin! Your waistcoat's hanging quite loose. Oh, Heriot,
+it's terrible to see you that way!"</p>
+
+<p>Her heart might be a little withered by all those northern winters, with
+never another heart to keep it warm, but it could still beat faster at a
+breath of suspicion cast upon her hospitality. She had not been feeding
+her only brother properly!</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me yourself what you'd like for your dinner!" she entreated him.</p>
+
+<p>He laughed at her genially.</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh! Tuts! Did you ever in your life see me eat a better dinner than
+I've been taking lately? You might give one a suet pudding oftener, but
+that's all I have to complain of."</p>
+
+<p>Heriot had always been addicted to suet pudding, but for a number of
+years past his doctor's opinion had been adverse to this form of diet
+for a gentleman of gouty habit. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p><p>"But what about your gout, Heriot?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Gout? Fiddle-de-dee! Who's got gout? Not I, for one."</p>
+
+<p>He had been glancing complacently at his improved reflection in the
+mirror. Abruptly he stepped up close to the glass and examined his
+visage with unconcealed excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"Good God!" he murmured.</p>
+
+<p>Then, with much the expression Crusoe must have worn when he spied the
+footprint, he turned to his sister, and, grasping a lock of hair upon
+his brow, bent his head towards her, and demanded&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"What color's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me," she said, "it looks quite brown. I didn't know you had any
+brown hair left."</p>
+
+<p>He raised his head and looked at her in solemn silence till she began to
+feel dreadfully confused. Then he bent again.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you notice anything else?"</p>
+
+<p>"N&mdash;no; unless your hair's got thicker. But that's not likely at your
+time of life."</p>
+
+<p>"It is <i>not</i> likely," said he. "It is most improbable&mdash;in fact, it is
+practically impossible; but it is thicker."</p>
+
+<p>He rubbed his chin and gazed at her with the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>queerest look. Mary had
+known him since he trundled a hoop, but she never remembered him go on
+like this before. As for Heriot, he seemed to be debating whether he
+should spring something still more surprising on her or not. But she
+looked so uncomfortable already, so totally without the least clue to
+his mysterious words, so unconscious of anything stranger about him than
+his shirt-sleeves and loss of weight, that he only uttered something
+between a gasp and a sigh, and, turning away from her, took up his
+brushes to smooth his augmented hairs.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be down to breakfast in a jiffy," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Walkingshaw thought that an odd kind of phrase for Heriot to be
+using. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+
+<p>Andrew no longer walked to the office with his father in the mornings.
+Not that <i>he</i> had anything to do with the altered custom: in fact, he
+was always most careful to assure his friends that he had more than once
+waited as long as five minutes to give his father the opportunity of
+having his company&mdash;if he was wishing it. But Mr. Walkingshaw was never
+less than ten minutes late nowadays.</p>
+
+<p>On this particular morning he set forth a full half-hour after his son.
+He had been very absent-minded after his talk with his sister,&mdash;not even
+Mrs. Dunbar could keep his attention for more than a moment,&mdash;and he had
+sat for the best part of twenty minutes thoughtfully putting on his
+boots. One or two acquaintances who saw him on the way from his house to
+his office often recalled his demeanor that morning. Now he would loiter
+along with bent shoulders, his hands behind his back, trailing his
+umbrella and brooding as though he contemplated bankruptcy. Then
+suddenly his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>pace would quicken, the umbrella whirled round and round
+like a Catherine wheel, and with his head held jauntily and the merriest
+smile he would swagger along like a young blood of twenty-six who had
+just been accepted by an heiress. And then abruptly he would lapse into
+his mournful gait.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to see Mr. Andrew," said he, as soon as he was seated in his
+private room.</p>
+
+<p>The junior partner entered with a melancholy visage and a reproachful
+eye.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you've come at last," he remarked, too quietly to be rude, too
+pointedly to be pleasant.</p>
+
+<p>But his father seemed not to have heard.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, sit down," he said; and then in an earnest manner and with
+the gravest face began, "I've something to tell you, Andrew, that I
+think you ought to know."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew's visage relaxed. This gravity promised better than anything his
+father's behavior had led him to expect of late.</p>
+
+<p>"Something most extraordinary has happened. You've noticed a little kind
+of difference in me of late, possibly?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have," said Andrew, with an intonation that made his acquiescence
+particularly thorough. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p><p>"A sort of cheerfulness and healthiness, and so on?"</p>
+
+<p>"And so on," assented Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I've accounted for it at last!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh?" said Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>This did not strike him as quite so interesting. He thought of the
+papers he had left, and glanced at his watch.</p>
+
+<p>"You mind my telling you about Cyrus's theory of the cells of the
+body&mdash;that all they needed was the proper kind of stimulation, and
+they'd be as good as new? Well, he went one better than that sometimes.
+I never told you what his idea was&mdash;it sounded kind of daft-like when
+you didn't hear him laying it down himself&mdash;but I'll tell you now."</p>
+
+<p>His voice sank impressively, and his junior partner grew vaguely uneasy.
+This was a most unsuitable place and hour to be discussing quack medical
+theories. He didn't approve of it at all.</p>
+
+<p>"His idea was that every cell of the body&mdash;mine and yours,
+Andrew,"&mdash;(Andrew grew exceedingly uncomfortable: this verged on the
+indecent),&mdash;"every single cell of them is just a kind of wee vessel in
+which chemical and electrical <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>changes are going on. While they keep
+brisk we keep young, and when they get off the boil, so to speak, we
+grow old. Well now, what's to hinder one stirring them up to boil faster
+and faster, instead of slower and slower? And if they once did that, of
+course you'd begin to grow young instead of going on getting old.
+Andrew, it's happened to me."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew started.</p>
+
+<p>"What has?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm growing young again!"</p>
+
+<p>His junior partner looked at him for half a minute in dead silence. Then
+he decided that this statement had better be answered humorously.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this story a sample?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't believe me?"</p>
+
+<p>Andrew's cheeks bulged in a faint smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Am I expected to?"</p>
+
+<p>"Look at my waistcoat&mdash;when did you ever see it as loose as that, and me
+healthier than I've been for years, and eating more? Look at my
+face&mdash;where are the wrinkles gone? Look at my head&mdash;how long is it since
+you've seen a patch of brown hair there?"</p>
+
+<p>To complete this overwhelming series of proofs, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>he leapt up, and with
+an agile jump on one foot whirled the other leg clean over the back of
+his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"It's twenty years and more since I last did that!"</p>
+
+<p>Andrew was fairly startled out of his skepticism now. He had the eyes of
+a goldfish, and his upper lip and swelling cheeks twitched nervously.</p>
+
+<p>"What an awful thing to happen!" he murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"It has happened, though," said his father.</p>
+
+<p>"But surely&mdash;oh, it must just be temporary. You don't think it will
+last, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think nothing," replied Mr. Walkingshaw, with conviction. "I have no
+settled opinions left. I am a mass of cells in active eruption."</p>
+
+<p>He began to chuckle.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm like a dashed volcano, Andrew!"</p>
+
+<p>His son looked at him piteously. To suffer this sea change was bad
+enough, but to laugh about it was diabolical. Mr. Walkingshaw could not
+but sober down under such an eye. He gathered his countenance into an
+aspect as portentously solemn as his dwindled wrinkles could achieve.
+His son grieved afresh to see how their passing diminished the once
+overpowering respectability of his parent. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p><p>"It's an awful predicament," said Mr. Walkingshaw, shaking his bronzing
+head.</p>
+
+<p>"Awful&mdash;just awful! What will people say?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's just what I've been wondering. How am I going to break it to
+them?"</p>
+
+<p>"You're not going to tell people!"</p>
+
+<p>"But they'll notice for themselves."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew gazed at him gloomily.</p>
+
+<p>"It may pass off,"&mdash;his face cleared a little,&mdash;"in fact, it's certain
+to."</p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't feel much like it at present: I'm fairly bursting with
+spirits," smiled Mr. Walkingshaw, and then recollected himself and grew
+grave again. "What's to be done supposing people do notice?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll just have to stretch a point," said Andrew somberly, "and give
+some other explanation."</p>
+
+<p>"We might give some decent, respectable doctor the credit for it," his
+father suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"They'd all be afraid to take it, if it went on any further. Imagine a
+respectable doctor admitting he'd made a man grow younger! I dare say
+they might be proud of such a performance in London, but they've more
+decency here!" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p><p>It seemed characteristic of Mr. Walkingshaw's calamity that he should
+bounce up like a tennis ball after each well-meant effort to depress
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"In that case," said he cheerfully, "we'll just have to say I am trying
+to make myself more of a companion for you."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew started violently.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll say no such thing! Do you suppose <i>I'm</i> going to have my name
+mixed up with it?"</p>
+
+<p>His father remained serene.</p>
+
+<p>"Well then, what do you suggest?"</p>
+
+<p>Andrew's cheeks drooped, carrying the corners of his mouth down with
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"There's no good in suggesting. You can trust your friends to do that
+for you. Pretty stories they'll be circulating!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw regarded him with dignity, mingled with a trace of
+good-natured contempt for such a lack of spirit.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Andrew," said he, "you need not be under the slightest
+apprehension. Whatever my external appearance may become&mdash;and I trust it
+will remain not altogether unpleasing&mdash;I shall see to it that my conduct
+rebuts any breath of scandal. I shall be, if possible, more circumspect,
+more scrupulously observant of the rules which should <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>regulate the
+behavior of a man in my position, more discreet both in speech and
+conduct. The tongues of the libelous will be effectually silenced
+<i>then</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw accompanied these excellent sentiments by gently
+swinging himself to and fro in his revolving chair and rolling a scrap
+of blotting-paper into a pellet, which, at the conclusion of his speech,
+he absent-mindedly discharged at the office clock. His son seemed as
+impressed by these movements as by his words.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll find it easier," he began bitterly, "to set people talking than
+to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"When you come to think of it, the situation is not without decided
+advantages," his father interrupted, springing up and pacing the room
+with an animated air. "Just think of the renewed opportunities for doing
+all kinds of useful and beneficial things! I might take a more prominent
+part in public life: I might even go in for politics. I certainly shall
+take a bit of salmon-fishing. The study of some of our classical authors
+suggests itself as a relaxation for my leisure moments. The subjects of
+aeroplanes and national defense are worthy of consideration, too. I
+should like to visit several of the continental countries&mdash;our own
+colonies are even more attractive; there wouldn't be the same
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>difficulties about the language. Or, by Jingo, Andrew, I might learn
+French and Italian! Yes, the position is not without its compensations."</p>
+
+<p>He stopped beside his son and laid his hand upon his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"I propose to widen greatly the scope of my energies, without in the
+least forfeiting the respect of my fellow-citizens. That is my ideal,
+Andrew. Ah, my boy, you and I will have some great times together! By
+that I mean, of course, some beneficial and profitable times."</p>
+
+<p>He took a sudden step forward and kicked the wastepaper-basket into the
+fireplace.</p>
+
+<p>"I might even take up football some day, if this goes on," he smiled,
+and then abruptly recovered his solemnity.</p>
+
+<p>"Beneficial and profitable," he repeated gravely. "Those are to be our
+watchwords. Will you have a weed?"</p>
+
+<p>The junior partner started out of the reverie into which he had fallen.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going to start smoking <i>here</i>?" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Why the deuce shouldn't I? It's my own office. These old-fashioned
+ideas of yours about not smoking on business premises are getting out
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>of date. Besides, it keeps the flies away. And now I must get on to my
+correspondence."</p>
+
+<p>With a cigar in the corner of his mouth and humming something resembling
+an air, the senior partner dashed into his day's work with the ardor of
+an egg-collector. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER V</h3>
+
+<p>In the meantime, the two least satisfactory members of the family were
+sadly enduring the consequences of their foolishness. To Frank and Jean
+the world seemed a very gray place at present; and even the daily
+increasing juvenility of their parent failed to enliven them. They were
+too engrossed in their own unhappiness to take much notice of it; and
+what they saw merely distressed them, for so far his beneficent projects
+had not included them. Frank moped about the house, consorted
+occasionally with an acquaintance, now and then went away for a day's
+golf, and at frequent intervals confided to Jean his disgust with the
+arrangements of the universe. Ellen Berstoun was to have paid them
+another visit, but for some reason she put it off; and at this decision
+he was plunged for forty-eight consecutive hours into a frenzy,
+alternately of relief and despair, which left him at last more
+lackadaisical than ever. A few days after his father's momentous
+interview with Andrew, he was roused to fresh anguish by the junior
+partner's departure <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>to spend a week-end at Berstoun Castle, and his
+state of mind now became so unbearable that he abruptly announced to his
+sister&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I can't stick this any longer! I'm going up to town."</p>
+
+<p>"What for?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"For a bust," he answered desperately. "I'm going to try to&mdash;to&mdash;to
+forget."</p>
+
+<p>And the poor youth strode hurriedly out of the room to examine the state
+of his silk hat and his finances.</p>
+
+<p>Jean devoutly wished she too could fly to London! Like a dutiful girl,
+she had returned, at her father's peremptory bidding, two unopened
+letters received from that city. Frank knew his address and forwarded
+them for her. Once or twice after that he himself received a letter in a
+hand suspiciously resembling the writing on the unbroken envelopes, and
+it certainly was a fact that on each of these occasions the erring pair
+were closeted for long together, and that Jean's spirits rose a little
+for a few hours afterwards. But they soon sank again.</p>
+
+<p>After Frank had announced his desperate resolution she sat alone for
+some time in the drawing-room. Everybody else was out, and the house
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>seemed prodigiously silent and vast. At last she heard a little noise,
+which presently took the form of footsteps bounding upstairs,
+accompanied by a cheerful tuneless whistling. The door was flung open,
+and her father entered.</p>
+
+<p>It was only at that moment that Jean realized he was a curiously altered
+man. He was dressed in brown tweeds and a light waistcoat; his face was
+flushed, and a smile danced in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been for a bicycle ride," he announced.</p>
+
+<p>She could hardly believe her ears.</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;on a bicycle?" she gasped; for Mr. Walkingshaw had been born long
+before bicycles.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I've had a couple of lessons&mdash;only two, and I went for a six-mile
+ride all alone to-day!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then weren't you at the office?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the morning; but one gets no exercise in that beastly office. I need
+a lot nowadays."</p>
+
+<p>He threw himself into a chair and a smile broke over his face, in which,
+to her further bewilderment, she recognized an unmistakable flavor of
+roguishness.</p>
+
+<p>"Thinking of him?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Jean nearly jumped out of her chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Of&mdash;of whom?" she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"The artist fellow, what's his name&mdash;Vernon." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p><p>"Father!" she said in a low, pained voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh? What's the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him between grief and amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"You said that his name was never to be mentioned. Do you mean to&mdash;why
+do you&mdash;what do you mean, father?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw was finding it harder every day to retain his old
+attitudes in all their dignity. He was altering at an astonishing pace.
+How many years younger he had become already he could not compute. He
+had tried once or twice to calculate about where he stood but the
+surprising thing was that he found he cared less and less what was
+happening, and how fast it happened. He enjoyed himself amazingly so
+long as he did not worry; and the obvious moral was&mdash;don't worry. At the
+same time, he had no intention whatsoever of forfeiting the respect of
+his fellow-citizens, still less of his family. It was true this proviso
+occurred to him more often after than before he had surprised them by
+some trifling deviation; still, when it did occur, it occurred forcibly.
+On this present occasion he suddenly became preternaturally solemn,
+coughed with a little dry, respectable sound, and replied severely&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I meant that it must never be mentioned by <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>you, but&mdash;ahem&mdash;it
+is&mdash;ah&mdash;different with your father. I still leave myself at liberty to
+mention him with reprobation."</p>
+
+<p>Jean jumped up with a sparkling eye.</p>
+
+<p>"In that case I'll leave you. I've obeyed you so far, but I certainly
+shan't obey you if you tell me to sit and listen to <i>anything</i> against
+him!"</p>
+
+<p>And she started for the door.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear girl!" cried Mr. Walkingshaw.</p>
+
+<p>He jumped up too, caught her by the hand, and led her to the sofa.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, now," he said kindly; "sit down and tell me all about it."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him in fresh amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"All about what?"</p>
+
+<p>He found it a little difficult to explain precisely what he meant. He
+only knew that he felt an unwonted expansion of his heart towards this
+really charming little daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"All about the weather and crops," he suggested playfully.</p>
+
+<p>Jean began to tremble a little.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I don't understand you at all," said she.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Am I such a very mysterious old fellow?"</p>
+
+<p>At this odd and novel mixture of kindness and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>queerness she felt her
+words choking her, as much with fear as anything.</p>
+
+<p>"We&mdash;we never have understood each other," she found herself saying.</p>
+
+<p>He looked startled.</p>
+
+<p>"What? You don't mean to say you&mdash;But I'm your father."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose that's the reason."</p>
+
+<p>"I have always tried to do my duty."</p>
+
+<p>"The trouble is, you succeeded."</p>
+
+<p>"What!" he exclaimed. "Do you actually mean to say you&mdash;ah&mdash;didn't
+appreciate my duty?"</p>
+
+<p>She was sitting by his side on the sofa, her eyes downcast and her lips
+obstinately set. Never before in her life had she stood up to him like
+this, but now that she had begun she was discovering to her surprise
+that she had more of her father's temper than she had dreamt of.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said. "I didn't sometimes."</p>
+
+<p>Instead of getting angry, Mr. Walkingshaw seemed merely astonished and
+interested.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps it was the way I did it," he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>She looked up quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my dear, I have lately discovered that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>I shall never be too old
+to learn. Just tell me how you'd like to be treated, and I'll try to
+manage it. I am very fond of you, Jean."</p>
+
+<p>Her mouth lost its obstinacy; her eyes and voice grew kind.</p>
+
+<p>"Father dear, if only you'd show it! If only&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He interrupted her by a resounding kiss.</p>
+
+<p>"More that kind of way?" he smiled.</p>
+
+<p>For answer she threw her arms round him and gave him what he immediately
+decided to be the pleasantest hugging he had ever enjoyed. This was a
+method of doing his duty that must certainly be repeated; he had no
+doubts about that. It led to such surprising results, too. In a few
+minutes he found himself embarked upon the most charmingly confidential
+conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a little rough on you," he confessed.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean&mdash;?" she hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, perhaps we'd better not allude to it again," he answered
+kindly.</p>
+
+<p>But apparently she had no intention at all of avoiding the subject.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," she said eagerly. "I'd like to talk about it with you now."</p>
+
+<p>It did not seem to occur to the W.S. that he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>might end by committing
+himself to some expression of sympathy he would repent of later.</p>
+
+<p>"Capital," he answered genially. "You still like the fellow, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Like him!" she exclaimed. "Oh, father, I&mdash;I still love him."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish he'd brush his hair a little better and wear a respectable tie;
+still, he undoubtedly has some original ideas."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw found himself musing on the artist's outrageous opinions
+with a new catholicity. They had staggered him at the moment: they began
+to interest him now.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a pity he can't make a little more money," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't need a large income to be happy, father."</p>
+
+<p>"Eh?" said Mr. Walkingshaw.</p>
+
+<p>This was going rather too fast; yet when he looked into her shining
+eyes, he found it really very difficult to keep severe.</p>
+
+<p>"Money is a very important thing, my dear," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>"It's not nearly so important as love! Surely, father, it's far, far
+better that two people should be very, very fond of each other than have
+plenty <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>of money! You do agree with that, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>It was at this moment that there came to the little advocate-for-love's
+assistance a recollection of the sympathetic widow. In his mind's eye
+Mr. Walkingshaw suddenly saw a vision of her black eyes vivaciously
+beaming, and for some reason this enabled him to regard Jean's point of
+view in a wholly new and original light.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said he, "I'm not sure that there isn't something in what you
+say. I do believe you're right, my dear&mdash;in fact, I'm positive you're
+right. The love for a fine woman&mdash;well, it's a first-rate
+sensation&mdash;most refreshing."</p>
+
+<p>"For a woman?" asked Jean, a little surprised. "But we were talking
+about a man."</p>
+
+<p>There was no mirror available, but Mr. Walkingshaw had a strong
+suspicion that he must be blushing.</p>
+
+<p>"For a man&mdash;of course," he said hastily. "I meant for a man. But in a
+general way I think I may say that love's the thing for everybody! It's
+the thing for you and me anyhow, eh, Jean?"</p>
+
+<p>Jean felt as though she had scrubbed a lump of crystal and found it to
+be a diamond. How was it she had never before discovered these depths of
+affection and geniality below his awe-inspiring exterior? <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>She had not
+scrubbed hard enough!</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed!" said she. "Oh, I do understand you now. Father, I'm so
+happy! And you won't think too hardly of Mr. Vernon, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"H'm," smiled her father. "That's a matter we might well take to
+avizandum, I think."</p>
+
+<p>For a daughter of a Writer to the Signet, Jean was woefully ignorant.
+She did not know what avizandum meant in the least. But she felt sure it
+was the name of one of the roads to happiness; and she hugged him again.</p>
+
+<p>It was in the midst of this embrace that Mrs. Donaldson entered. She had
+always esteemed the author of her own existence and her family's
+prosperity, but she had never hugged him; nor had he shown any evidence
+of desiring such an operation.</p>
+
+<p>"Good gracious, Jean!" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"We are arranging a bike ride," beamed her father.</p>
+
+<p>To complete the confusion of his more creditable daughter, this
+improbable announcement was accompanied by an unabashed wink, directed
+at his less creditable child apparently for the superfluous purpose of
+assuring her he jested.</p>
+
+<p>That evening Mr. Walkingshaw began to be discussed by his
+fellow-citizens in earnest. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3>
+
+<p>"You're not drinking, Andrew," said Mr. Walkingshaw. "Go on, fill up
+your glass. Man, do you call that filling a glass? Here's the way."</p>
+
+<p>Leaning across the table, he poured in the port till it stood above the
+rim, with the steady hand of a man of forty. He was hardly as young as
+that yet, but he was amazingly rejuvenated. It could not possibly last,
+Andrew said to himself; still, he felt dreadfully uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>"You seem very anxious I should drink," he said gloomily, looking
+askance at his brimming glass.</p>
+
+<p>"You're so dull, my boy," his father answered genially. "There's no life
+in you at all. You for a lover! You ought to have come back looking
+happy. One would think she'd broken it off."</p>
+
+<p>It was the evening of the same day. Andrew had returned from his visit
+to the Berstouns shortly after Mrs. Donaldson departed, and as Frank was
+dining out, he and his father sat alone together over their wine. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p><p>"I've no reason to feel particularly happy," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh?" cried his father. "Nothing gone wrong, is there?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand these women."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mr. Walkingshaw, with jovial candor, "you'd be a bit of a
+stick with the sex, I can well imagine. You haven't the cut of a ladies'
+man: but it's all a matter of practice, my boy; just a matter of
+learning experience as you go along. What did she say to you?"</p>
+
+<p>Andrew was divided in mind. This tone exasperated him beyond measure. He
+felt inclined to leave the room. Yet, on the other hand, he judged
+himself ill-used by his betrothed, and when he had any ground of
+grievance, he had the pleasant habit of venting his complaints as long
+as his audience would listen to him. To-night the habit proved even
+stronger than his distaste for his high-spirited parent.</p>
+
+<p>"She was queer," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"They're all that," replied Mr. Walkingshaw knowingly. "The great thing
+is not to mind what they say. It's what they do that counts: and she'd
+be affectionate, I suppose, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've never gone in for much of your spooning <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>and kissing and that sort
+of thing," began Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>"The more fool you!" interrupted his parent. "What do you think a girl
+gets engaged for if it isn't to be cuddled?"</p>
+
+<p>He surprised himself by his own acumen. The late Mrs. W. had not been in
+the least that sort of lady, and he had never been engaged to anybody
+else; yet here he was laying down the law with the serenest confidence.
+Some divine instinct must be inspiring him. His son seemed less
+favorably impressed with his sagacity.</p>
+
+<p>"Ellen's not that sort of girl," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear fellow, they're all that sort. At least, that's my view of the
+matter. Well, what's gone wrong?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said Andrew sourly. "I can't make her out. She's
+different somehow. It was almost as though she wasn't so fond of me."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you sure you've done nothing to annoy her? They're very touchy, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't done a thing to annoy her. I can swear to <i>that</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Then," said Mr. Walkingshaw, with inspired conviction, "there's some
+other fellow cutting you out." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p><p>Andrew started.</p>
+
+<p>"Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know all her neighbors. It's nobody she's met here, I
+suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"She never saw a man when she was here but Frank and me."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it's some one in Perthshire," pronounced Mr. Walkingshaw,
+emphatically but cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew frowned at his still brimming glass. He trusted that he did not
+overvalue himself; at the same time, the idea of another being preferred
+by a girl who had once enjoyed the privilege of being engaged to Andrew
+Walkingshaw struck him as far-fetched.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think it's another man," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"It's my opinion it is, Andrew; and I'm not wanting to lose so nice a
+daughter-in-law, so you've got to see that she doesn't turn round
+altogether. You've got to go in and win; make sure of her, my boy!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw grew more and more animated and his son more and more
+distressed. He was behaving so unlike the senior partner in Walkingshaw
+&amp; Gilliflower.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you wanting me to do?" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>
+"Behave less like a damned umbrella," pronounced Mr. Walkingshaw, with a
+startling lapse into epigram.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew stared.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh?" said he.</p>
+
+<p>"Be lively, and&mdash;er&mdash;amorous, and&mdash;ah&mdash;sparkling; that's the sort of
+thing. Go in for a few new ties and waistcoats. Socks, too, are things
+that the young men display considerable enterprise in. I was tempted
+myself this afternoon by a shop window full of really remarkably chaste
+hosiery&mdash;pale green with stripes! you'd look first class in them. I came
+to the conclusion at last that perhaps I was hardly young enough for
+them yet; but I invested in half a dozen ties of quite a tasty design."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>You</i> bought half a dozen ties!" exclaimed Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>"I did; and you're welcome to any of them you like. Or will you come
+with me and we'll choose something?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," replied his son sardonically; "but on the whole I'd sooner
+trust to nature."</p>
+
+<p>"In that case, Heaven help you, my poor boy! You have your good points,
+but beauty's not among them. Imagine you as a statue, Andrew! Eh?" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p><p>The worthy gentleman laughed genially, but the unhappy lover did not
+join in his mirth.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad I amuse you," he said, and rose to leave the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, sit down, man," his father commanded; "I haven't half
+finished with you yet. Have you read any poetry to her?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have not."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, read some; try a bit of&mdash;er&mdash;I'm not so well up in the poets as I
+hope to be soon, but I fancy Byron has written some very stimulating
+verses; or why go over the border for them&mdash;why not try her with Burns?
+What's finer than&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i4">"'Had we never loved sae kindly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Had we&mdash;um&mdash;um&mdash;sae blindly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Never&mdash;something&mdash;um&mdash;um&mdash;parted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">We should&mdash;something about being broken-hearted?'"<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"It's very sentimental, I've no doubt," answered the junior partner, in
+a tone which implied that he was uttering the last word in caustic
+criticism.</p>
+
+<p>But his father merely grew the more enthusiastic.</p>
+
+<p>"And what else have you got to be but sentimental? My dear boy, my eyes
+have been opened this very afternoon. I've never been sentimental
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>enough with my children; and what's the consequence? Here's you letting
+a pretty girl slip through your fingers because you don't let yourself
+loose on her! Now what you ought to say to her is something like this:
+'My own darling&mdash;or sweetheart&mdash;or even duckie,'&mdash;use some popular
+symbol, as it were, of affection,&mdash;'I am so passionately'&mdash;or fervently,
+if you like&mdash;let us say, 'so fervently in love with you that I can't
+hold out'&mdash;or perhaps you might find a better word than that; you want
+to inflame the lassie without startling her. 'I can't endure'&mdash;that's a
+better word&mdash;'I can't endure for another month. Marry me four weeks from
+to-day!' And there you have the whole thing done."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew had remained standing beside the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that all now?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>His father regarded him with a fine jovial scorn, much as Sir John
+Falstaff might have regarded the inventor of lemonade.</p>
+
+<p>"I doubt you're a hopeless case," said he. "There's ginger enough in an
+ordinary policeman to make three of you. But I'm not going to let you
+lose Ellen Berstoun if I can help it. Run away now and complain to your
+auntie."</p>
+
+<p>In pointed silence Andrew availed himself of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>this permission, while his
+father remained to light a cigar and meditate upon the disadvantages of
+unalloyed respectability. A fine example in many ways Andrew undoubtedly
+was, just as he trusted he had been himself; but he showed up poorly
+when it came to love-making. He was too old for his age; that was the
+trouble with Andrew. Now that he came to think of it, there was
+something uncompanionable in elderly people. It was surprising he had
+not noticed it before, but lately it had occurred to him forcibly. A
+brisk young fellow like Frank, a pretty girl like Jean&mdash;one felt more in
+touch with them. Perhaps they were a trifle on the juvenile side: the
+choicest, the most sympathetic period of life was undoubtedly that
+attained by&mdash;Mr. Walkingshaw jumped up, laid down his cigar, and started
+for the drawing-room. What a fine woman Madge was!</p>
+
+<p>He spent a delightful hour in the ladies' society. The obliging widow
+was easily prevailed upon to gratify a passion he had lately developed
+for tuneful and romantic melody, and she thrummed through five waltzes
+and the whole of two comic operas, while he sat on the sofa holding
+Jean's hand and exchanging confidential smiles. Jean was in the seventh
+heaven of happiness; the widow enthusiastically <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>approved of the
+symptoms; and the only critic present appeared to be his exemplary
+sister. She listened to the concert with a bleak face, and regarded the
+dalliance on the sofa out of a troubled and uncomprehending eye.</p>
+
+<p>Aglow with sentiments, which from being mere amorphous ecstasies were
+rapidly developing into shapely visions of black eyes and well-nourished
+contours, Mr. Walkingshaw bade good-night to the ladies and settled
+himself comfortably in his easy-chair before a friendly fire and in
+company with a fragrant pipe. How delicious his tobacco tasted!
+Evidently this last tin must be of a superior quality. He resolved that
+he should insist on being supplied with the same high-class variety in
+future.</p>
+
+<p>At this point his pleasant reverie was interrupted by the entrance of
+Frank, just returned from dining with a friend. His father greeted him
+genially.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my boy, help yourself to a drink and light your pipe."</p>
+
+<p>Frank glanced at him suspiciously. He had never before been encouraged
+either to drink or to smoke; indeed, he had more than once complained
+that his father seemed to forget he was now a grown-up man. What his
+sudden cordiality meant he could not divine; but on general principles
+he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>feared it. This did not prevent him from accepting both overtures
+and sitting down on the other side of the fire. Mr. Walkingshaw asked
+him a few questions about how he had spent the evening, always with the
+same friendly air, till the young soldier began to suspect he had
+negotiated some peculiarly fortunate business transaction. He became
+emboldened to approach what he feared might prove a delicate subject.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm thinking of running up to London for a week or two," he began.</p>
+
+<p>"An excellent idea," said his parent. "It must be rather slow for you
+here."</p>
+
+<p>Frank got more and more encouraged.</p>
+
+<p>"The only trouble is, I find myself rather short of funds."</p>
+
+<p>"How much do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>The going was too smooth to last, thought Frank. He became cautious.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a tenner or so, I suppose," he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"A tenner!" exclaimed his father.</p>
+
+<p>"Say a fiver, then," said Frank hurriedly.</p>
+
+<p>"A fiver for a week or two in London? My dear boy, you don't know how to
+do the thing at all. Your return ticket will cost you over three pounds;
+supposing one averages your dinners at ten shillings <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>a night for a
+fortnight&mdash;that's seven pounds more; suppers, even if you supped alone"
+(here he winked upon his startled offspring), "will run you at least as
+much. Put railway and grub at thirty pounds&mdash;just to be safe. Then
+you'll be going to theaters and music-halls, and taking cabs, and having
+a week-end at Brighton&mdash;and the Lord knows what else. My hat, it will be
+a spree!"</p>
+
+<p>With sparkling eyes and a beaming smile he leant forward in his chair
+and tapped his son upon the knee.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll come with you, Frank."</p>
+
+<p>"You!" gasped the poor youth.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mr. Walkingshaw, apparently more to himself than to Frank,
+"that's the way to set about it!"</p>
+
+<p>He beamed upon his son confidentially.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got a splendid idea, and you're just the very chap to help me. I
+won't spoil sport, my boy, but I'll travel up with you&mdash;and, by Jove, we
+might stop at the same hotel, if that wouldn't embarrass you. Would it?"</p>
+
+<p>"N&mdash;no," said Frank, "n&mdash;not at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Just what we were needing&mdash;a little blow-out in London, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>Frank gave a little nervous laugh. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p><p>"Do you really mean it?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw was now standing in front of the fire, alternately
+rising on tiptoe and thumping down on his heels.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't I just! When shall we start&mdash;to-morrow morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow! But I haven't done any packing."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, no more have I. We'll just chuck in a few things and buy anything
+else we want in London. I need practically a new outfit myself. Can you
+introduce me to a good tailor?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ye&mdash;es," stammered Frank.</p>
+
+<p>"That's all settled, then."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw began to laugh mysteriously.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to see Andrew's face when he learns I've gone!"</p>
+
+<p>"But aren't you going to tell him?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw's voice sank.</p>
+
+<p>"Not a word to any of them, Frank! You put my things into your cab
+without any one noticing; I'll say I'm going to the office; and we'll
+meet at the station. I don't want to get talked about, you see."</p>
+
+<p>It was reassuring to find that Mr. Walkingshaw still valued his
+reputation, even though the measures <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>he took to preserve it were not
+excessively convincing.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, then," said Frank; "I'd better go and pack now. Good-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night, my boy," his father answered fervently. "God bless you!"</p>
+
+<p>The Cromarty Highlander had been through some nerve-testing experiences,
+but, as he went to his room, he realized that the severest ordeals often
+occur in civil life.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, his parent at a leisurely pace was following him upstairs
+when he perceived a light still burning in the drawing-room. He gently
+pushed the door open, and a smile of peculiar pleasure irradiated his
+rosy face. There, busy at the writing-table and quite alone, sat the
+sympathetic widow. He remembered how prettily she had answered a simple
+interjection once before.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo!" he warbled. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3>
+
+<p>The widow started and turned in her chair. This time she did not archly
+cap his greeting. Instead, her exclamation had a tincture of alarm. He
+was so very unlike his usual self.</p>
+
+<p>"Writing a billet-doux?" he inquired, still smiling.</p>
+
+<p>He softly closed the door behind him, and approached her with a kind of
+jaunty, springy gait that increased her perplexity. She loved to see him
+lively, but this smirking manner was really almost peculiar.</p>
+
+<p>"May I sit at your feet, Madge?" he asked, and without waiting for an
+answer, drew up a footstool and planted himself so close to her knees
+that the sense of propriety felt by all fine women with any experience
+of life impelled her to withdraw them some three inches farther from his
+shoulder. At the same time she bent her head a very little forward and
+gently drew in her breath. The late Captain Dunbar had possessed in
+addition to the virtues of a dashing temperament, certain of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>its
+failings, and her cousin's demeanor decidedly reminded her of his
+conduct after particularly convivial evenings at the mess. But the test
+was reassuring. Her nose was keen, and she noticed nothing&mdash;absolutely
+nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"What a beastly big barn of a room this is," he began.</p>
+
+<p>She was at a loss quite what to answer. Could he mean this: he who
+prided himself on the becoming stateliness of his house?</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I think it is a very fine and&mdash;and&mdash;impressive room, Heriot," she
+answered guardedly.</p>
+
+<p>"It's too big and gloomy for a widower. It makes one feel kind of
+lonely."</p>
+
+<p>The widow smiled sweetly. She quite understood what he meant now. The
+reminiscence of the late Captain Dunbar faded away, and once more she
+was sympathy itself.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you often lonely?" she inquired softly.</p>
+
+<p>He looked up into her face with a curious hint of boyishness in his
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"Not while you are here, Madge."</p>
+
+<p>Again a species of divine instinct possessed Mr. Walkingshaw. Without
+permission asked or given, he took his fair cousin's hand and gently
+held it. At the same time a longing to be confidential invaded <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>him. He
+had a really prime secret to share with her.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going up to London to-morrow morning!" he announced.</p>
+
+<p>It did not surprise her that business should take him up to town; it did
+that his eyes should twinkle at the prospect. She began to feel a trifle
+less sympathetic.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she said, "why are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>For a moment he hesitated. Could he venture to confide in her? The young
+and amorous Heriot said, "Of course! Such a divinity will be all
+sympathy." But the senior partner in Walkingshaw &amp; Gilliflower
+emphatically retorted. "Never tell a woman what you don't want the whole
+town to know!" He was still old enough to obey the more prudent
+counselor.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to see my old friend Colonel Munro."</p>
+
+<p>Decidedly Mr. Walkingshaw was fast acquiring that quick adaptation to
+circumstances which is the hall-mark of youth. He had not thought of his
+old friend Charlie Munro for the last year or more, and here he was
+coming in most usefully just when he was wanted. Heriot recognized with
+a touch of awe his own unwonted fertility. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p><p>"Don't tell any one!" he added, and then immediately realized that at
+the same time he must be losing a little of that valuable discretion
+which had characterized the head of Walkingshaw &amp; Gilliflower.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Heriot, this sounds suspicious."</p>
+
+<p>He realized now the penalties for indiscretion.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to see him on particularly private business. We do not wish
+it to get talked about."</p>
+
+<p>He thought he had recovered his old manner to a nicety, but what was his
+surprise when his cousin shook a well-manicured finger in his face, and
+cried&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"What a naughty boy you are getting! I wonder whether I ought to tell on
+you or not?"</p>
+
+<p>This time he tried another of his ingenuous smiles.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>You</i> wouldn't tell on me, Madge!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, indeed! Why should I care about your reputation?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw deliberately faced the situation. He had not meant to
+commit himself that evening&mdash;not, in fact, till he had enjoyed an
+untrammeled week in town; but he had placed his reputation in this
+charming lady's hands, and he realized he must obtain a receipt for it.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p><p>"Don't you care about me?" he inquired tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>"What&mdash;what do you mean, Heriot?" she faltered.</p>
+
+<p>"You are everything to me," he answered, and looking into her black
+eyes, inwardly decided that this expressed very little more than the
+precise truth.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>It was a very few minutes after this that he found himself seated very
+close to the sympathetic widow's side, with one arm encircling a
+considerable segment of what had been a remarkably trim waist, and the
+other hand toying with a collection of ruby and amethyst rings.</p>
+
+<p>"I do hope I shan't disappoint you, Heriot," she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"No fear of that, my dear," said he, pinching one of her plump fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"It will be rather a Darby and Joan marriage, of course," she smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Will it?" replied Heriot, with a glint out of the corner of his eye
+that reminded her forcibly of the late Captain Dunbar.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Heriot!" she expostulated. "Remember you're the father of a
+grown-up family." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p><p>"Well," he replied, with amorous facetiousness, "what man has done, man
+can do."</p>
+
+<p>The lady endeavored gently to withdraw her hand, but he held it firmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Will it be a long engagement?" she asked, with a colder smile.</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove, not very!" he whispered riotously.</p>
+
+<p>She felt like one of those intelligent persons who pull the triggers of
+supposititiously unloaded guns. By a supreme effort she mastered her
+emotion and remarked&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder what your family will say."</p>
+
+<p>He kissed her demonstratively and cried&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"My family be hanged! I'm not going to tell them yet."</p>
+
+<p>"When will you?" she asked, disengaging herself with a difficulty that
+impressed her still further.</p>
+
+<p>"Time enough when I get back from London."</p>
+
+<p>The widow was not altogether unsophisticated. This blend of abandonment
+and secrecy impressed her unfavorably. She had known of more than one
+ballroom proposal where the gentleman was just sufficiently master of
+his emotions to stipulate for silence till he had departed on a
+twelvemonth's furlough. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p><p>"How soon are you coming back?" she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Week or two," he answered airily.</p>
+
+<p>"A week or two to see Colonel Munro!"</p>
+
+<p>"Intricate business," he answered her, with a fresh salute.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor old Charles Munro is a kind of relation of mine," she observed.</p>
+
+<p>He eyed her with more surprise than passion.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I didn't know that."</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't written to him for years. I think I must send him a letter
+this week."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw realized that he was marrying brains as well as beauty.
+He also realized that Colonel Munro was now part of his London
+programme. However, on second thoughts, Charlie Munro was a dear old
+fellow, and very likely he'd have been looking him up in any case. His
+spirits bounded up again. In fact, why should they ever sink with such a
+fair creature by his side?</p>
+
+<p>"Do, darling," he whispered.</p>
+
+<p>She surrendered herself to his affection and sighed happily. Why should
+she feel disturbed with one of the most respectable of Writers to the
+Signet pledged to devote his declining years to her consolation?</p>
+
+<p>"I trust you, Heriot," she murmured. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p><p>"My little duck!" he answered tenderly.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>At twelve o'clock next morning the London express thundered on to the
+bridge across the Solway. Mr. Walkingshaw looked up at his son.</p>
+
+<p>"We're out of Scotland now," he said, with a sigh of reminiscent ardor.
+"Home and beauty are far behind us, Frank."</p>
+
+<p>Then in a different key he added&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It is curious that my spirits should keep rising."</p>
+
+<p>From which it appeared that he had grown young enough to realize that
+though lunch may be over, there is always dinner to look forward to. </p>
+
+<hr class="biggest" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143-144]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="PART_III" id="PART_III"></a>PART III </h2>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER I</h3>
+
+<p>Colonel Munro drew the ends of his white tie through the loop in the
+middle with infinite care. In a very wide circle of acquaintances he was
+universally known as "Charlie" Munro; and you had only to look at him to
+see how appropriate was this gallant diminutive. His head was bald at
+the top, but cleanly and beautifully bald, like a head of the finest
+marble; on either side and behind, his hair was both white and curly;
+his eye was bright, his features remarkably handsome, his mustache a
+slender ornament of silver, and his figure tall and slender. At
+sixty-three he was probably handsomer than he had ever been before in
+his life; and that was saying a great deal. He lived in very pleasant
+bachelor chambers in St. James' under the charge of a competent valet.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me see that card again," he said, as he gave his tie those little
+finishing touches that converted it from an elegant accessory into a
+work of art.</p>
+
+<p>The valet went to his sitting-room and returned <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>with a calling card on
+a tray. Colonel Munro studied it a trifle lugubriously.</p>
+
+<p>"James Heriot Walkingshaw," he read, with this addendum in pencil,
+"Shall call for you 7:30. Count on your company at dinner."</p>
+
+<p>The Colonel buttoned his white waistcoat.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you tell Mr. Walkingshaw that I would probably be engaged?" he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir," said the valet smoothly, "the gentleman seemed such an old
+friend of yours, I thought perhaps you wouldn't like to miss him."</p>
+
+<p>"One's oldest friends are sometimes d&mdash;&mdash;d nuisances, Forman."</p>
+
+<p>The Colonel saw the pleasant evening he had contemplated spending in the
+society of two or three of the gayest old bloods in London darkening
+into a <i>t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te</i> with Mr. Walkingshaw at his portentously
+respectable club, and regretted he had allowed Forman to lay out a clean
+white waistcoat; for he was, by force of circumstances, economical as
+well as gallant.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you what," said he, "I don't mean to wait a minute after 7:30.
+If he turns up late, you can make my apologies, and say I'll be happy to
+lunch with him to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>He put on his coat, added an overcoat and white <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>scarf, cocked his opera
+hat on his shapely old head, and sat confronting his sitting-room clock.
+At 7:29 he rose briskly, and then with a sigh sank back into his chair.
+He heard a footstep on the stair.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Walkingshaw," announced the valet.</p>
+
+<p>The Colonel advanced with that courteous smile for which he was
+renowned.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Charlie!" cried his visitor.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Heriot," smiled the Colonel, looking a little surprised at the
+remarkable joviality of this greeting.</p>
+
+<p>He surveyed his old friend up and down, and seemed still more surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"What a buck you are!" he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>In truth, Mr. Walkingshaw, arrayed in a new opera hat, a new and shining
+pair of dress boots, and a fashionable new overcoat, cut a very
+different figure from the sedate W.S. of the Colonel's previous
+acquaintance.</p>
+
+<p>Heriot looked a trifle self-conscious.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope I haven't overdone the thing," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"Not a bit," smiled the Colonel, as a bright inspiration struck him.
+"The only criticism I'd make is that you are really thrown away on the
+members of your very sedate club, Heriot." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, but I didn't mean to dine you at my club."</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Munro opened his eyes and smiled again.</p>
+
+<p>"Where do you propose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I thought perhaps you might advise me."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me see," mused Charlie, with a pleasant air.</p>
+
+<p>"What about the Carlton?"</p>
+
+<p>"First-rate, if you care to run to that."</p>
+
+<p>"I've booked a table there on spec," said Heriot.</p>
+
+<p>The Colonel beamed.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, you're coming out, Heriot. Blowing the expense this time, what?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care what I spend!" replied his old friend, in a burst of
+confidence.</p>
+
+<p>"Then let's start," said the Colonel. "Like to take a cab?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've got one waiting."</p>
+
+<p>"After you," said Charlie, holding the door open.</p>
+
+<p>He was struck by the agility with which his old friend descended the
+stairs, and smiled afresh at the increasing possibilities of the
+situation.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, this is very pleasant," beamed Mr. Walkingshaw as they jingled
+off in a hansom. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p><p>Rather bashfully he took from his overcoat pocket a pair of dazzling
+white kid gloves.</p>
+
+<p>"These are the proper things in the evening, aren't they?" he inquired.
+"I notice you've got on a pair."</p>
+
+<p>His guest chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>"They'll do to dance in afterwards if we go on to Covent Garden," he
+laughed, and then added waggishly, "How would you like to go to a fancy
+dress ball, Heriot?"</p>
+
+<p>"Is there one on to-night?" asked Heriot.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I've given up that sort of thing years ago; but of course, if
+you're keen to go, I might stretch a point."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw looked at him doubtfully out of the corner of his eye
+and answered nothing.</p>
+
+<p>A little later the two old friends had grown more merrily confidential
+than they had been since the days of their youth. Charlie Munro was a
+little puzzled by the subtle alteration in his host, but he was not in
+the least disposed to criticize it. He felt more and more inclined to
+tempt him into a further display of frivolity. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p><p>"Well, now, what about the Covent Garden ball?" he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>Heriot's eyes grew bright, but his mouth pursed cautiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Aren't they rather&mdash;er&mdash;fast?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"As fast as you choose to make 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"But aren't the ladies rather&mdash;er&mdash;rather&mdash;well&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a bit," said the Colonel. "There's a mixture, that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"But I say, Charlie, what about being seen by any one we know?"</p>
+
+<p>"We'll get a disguise for you," smiled Charlie.</p>
+
+<p>"Really, can you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'll see to that."</p>
+
+<p>He began to picture a very amusing evening with his old friend Heriot.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw drank off his glass of champagne.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if you're game&mdash;" said he.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm game for anything, my dear fellow, so long as I've you by my side,"
+laughed Charlie. "When you're tired, I'll promise to take you away.
+Shall we call it arranged?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll risk it," said Heriot stoutly. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER II</h3>
+
+<p>Round came the big man in the purple domino and the long false nose,
+hopping blithely to the crashing waltz, his arm encircling the waist of
+a little lady attired to represent a hot cross-bun. Then he was lost in
+the crowd, and the Colonel's eyes, in which for a moment a spark of
+wonder had burned, grew old and tired again. As he stood there alone,
+with youth and recklessness gamboling before him, he realized somberly
+that for him this revel was ended. How he would have enjoyed it once!
+But never, never again. His straight, soldierly back bent with
+weariness; he jerked back his shoulders, but they slipped forward,
+forward, and he let them stay. How little the fair faces interested him;
+how stupidly riotous these young fellows were!</p>
+
+<p>Round came the false nose again, and this time the empurpled figure
+unclasped one hand of the hot cross-bun and waved a genial greeting as
+they stampeded by. And again a gleam, almost of fear, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>lit the Colonel's
+weary eyes. It was horrible, grotesque, inhuman, to see the friend of
+his youth, a man older than himself, the honored head of a respectable
+firm, the father of five grown-up children, going on like this. The
+Colonel had thought it would be funny, but as hour succeeded hour, and
+the ringleader of the frolic gradually became a wearied spectator, this
+superhuman display of high-spirited energy grew long past a joke.
+Charlie had never been austere, but there were limits to all things.
+Good Gad, there were limits! If the man had got drunk or grown vicious,
+he might have excused him. But to see him interminably bounding round
+that floor behind six inches of pasteboard nose! He began to move away.
+He could stand the spectacle no longer.</p>
+
+<p>Again the false nose hopped by, and this time disengaged himself
+hurriedly from his partner and hastened after the retiring Colonel.</p>
+
+<p>"You're not going, Charlie?" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>His friend turned and stared at him piteously.</p>
+
+<p>"For Heaven's sake, take off that nose, Heriot!"</p>
+
+<p>The W.S. removed it with a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Put it on yourself, Charlie, and have a turn <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>with my partner," he
+urged. "She dances really magnificently, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Munro laid his hand beseechingly upon his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Come home, Heriot! You'll be devilish sorry for this to-morrow, as it
+is; and if you dance any more, by Gad, you may kill yourself! My dear
+fellow, think of your age."</p>
+
+<p>Heriot received this objection with a cheerful laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"You're not going yourself, surely?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"I am."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw looked at him anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, you do look tired, Charlie. How's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am sixty-three," replied the Colonel, with an instinctive lowering of
+his voice. He never stated his age if he could help it.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw continued to gaze at him oddly.</p>
+
+<p>"I had forgotten how one feels at that time of life," he said musingly,
+"quite forgotten. Poor old Charlie; I oughtn't to have kept you up so
+late. I'd have felt like that at sixty-three myself. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>Well, my dear
+fellow, I'm glad we were able to have this night together before it
+became too late. It has made me feel quite old again to see you."</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Munro seized his arm and drew him towards the door, with all the
+vehemence of which he was capable.</p>
+
+<p>"Come along&mdash;come along, Heriot!" he implored him; "you have had a
+little more to drink than you quite realize!"</p>
+
+<p>Heriot disengaged himself very easily from his trembling grip.</p>
+
+<p>"My poor old boy," he smiled, "I'm as sober as you were when you
+started! I positively require the exercise. Besides, you must remember
+that this sort of thing is only just beginning for me; don't grudge me
+my fling. Get you to bed as quick as you can, Charlie. Sleep is what
+you're needing."</p>
+
+<p>"And do you know what you need?" exclaimed the Colonel, with another
+grab at his sleeve.</p>
+
+<p>"A taste of life!" cried Heriot, evading his old fingers with wonderful
+agility, and slipping on his pasteboard nose.</p>
+
+<p>He waved a gay farewell, threw his arm round the waist of the hot
+cross-bun, and waltzed out of the Colonel's vision. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p><p>It was not till two hours later that Heriot Walkingshaw, smiling with
+reminiscent pleasure and perspiring freely, set out on foot for his
+hotel. A brisk walk in the early morning air was the only pick-me-up
+<i>he</i> needed. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER III</h3>
+
+<p>During their descent upon the Metropolis of England, Mr. Walkingshaw and
+his son were residing at the Hotel Gigantique, that stately new pile in
+Piccadilly, so styled, it is understood, from the bills presented when
+you leave. On the morning after his evening spent with Charlie Munro,
+they met as usual at breakfast. Fortunately, the state of Mr.
+Walkingshaw's health did not in the least seem to justify the
+forebodings of his friend. On the contrary, he tackled a fried sole with
+confidence, even with ardor, and put a great deal of cream into his
+coffee.</p>
+
+<p>"What were you about last night?" he inquired genially.</p>
+
+<p>"I dined with one or two fellows at the Rag," said Frank.</p>
+
+<p>"Doesn't sound very lively," observed his father, "that's to say, at
+your age," he hastened to add; for he still believed in retaining the
+confidence of his children.</p>
+
+<p>Frank smiled dreamily. This "bust" in town <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>was proving less solacing
+than he had hoped. Now that he had got here, he found himself too
+lovelorn to bust with any relish. At the same time, it was pleasant and
+soothing to enjoy each day the society of so charming a parent. Any
+disquietude he felt at the singular nature of the change had been
+allayed by one of his friends, an R.A.M.C. man, who assured him that a
+serious illness at his father's time of life was not infrequently
+followed by a marked rejuvenation of the patient; so that he was able to
+regard with unqualified gratitude the generosity and kindness of the
+truant Writer to the Signet.</p>
+
+<p>"What were you doing yourself?" he inquired presently.</p>
+
+<p>"Dining with Colonel Munro," replied his father, truthfully if a trifle
+meagerly.</p>
+
+<p>He sipped his coffee, and then remarked&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Charlie Munro is growing old, I'm afraid. He knocks up very
+easily."</p>
+
+<p>He sighed and added, "It's a melancholy thing, Frank, my boy, to see
+one's old friends slipping away from one."</p>
+
+<p>"What! Is he seriously ill?" asked Frank.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't mean that. I mean&mdash;well, everything has its compensating
+disadvantages. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>Mine is that my contemporaries are outgrowing me.
+Charlie and I started the evening in capital style; he was up to
+anything, and I was on for anything. But by the end of the night we were
+quite out of sympathy. The fact is, he is still in the sixties. However,
+my duty has been done; I've seen him, and that's over."</p>
+
+<p>He helped himself to some more fish, and continued with animation&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Now I can carry out my idea! I may or may not set about it the right
+way, but I do want to make you all happy Frank."</p>
+
+<p>It was perhaps well for his continued equanimity that during the first
+part of this speech Frank was lost in contemplation of a singularly
+vivid image of Ellen Berstoun. She had a distracting habit of appearing
+like that to the young soldier, of which he was unable to cure her. He
+started out of his reverie with the last words.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear father, you're the best sportsman I know," he replied warmly.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw looked highly gratified at this compliment.</p>
+
+<p>"That's what I'm aiming at," he answered.</p>
+
+<p>He leaned over the table and continued confidentially&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p><p>"Of course you are happy, Frank. There's really nothing Providence could
+do for you except put a little money in your pocket, and give you a good
+time&mdash;eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;er&mdash;nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter? That doesn't sound very cheerful."</p>
+
+<p>"I assure you I'm as cheerful as&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;anything," said Frank
+heroically.</p>
+
+<p>"I was sure of it. But poor Jean&mdash;she's got her troubles, eh, Frank?"</p>
+
+<p>Frank warmed up at his sister's name.</p>
+
+<p>"She has," he admitted.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw thoughtfully piled several slices of bacon on his plate.
+It would have reassured Colonel Munro greatly to have seen him.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I was sure that Vernon was good enough for her."</p>
+
+<p>Frank looked up quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think anybody is quite good enough for Jean; but Lucas Vernon
+is really a deuced fine fellow."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw still seemed doubtful.</p>
+
+<p>"A bit lazy, I'm afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"I assure you he's not," said Frank. "He works, sir, like the very
+dickens." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p><p>"He can't sell his pictures," replied his father. "I'll never believe in
+an artist till he can sell what he paints."</p>
+
+<p>"The difficulty for a painter is to get hold of the right man&mdash;the
+fellow with the money," urged Frank.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a mere matter of time," said his father; "they are sure to meet
+sooner or later, and then the point is, has he painted anything worth
+selling? If Vernon can manage to prove that, I may begin to believe in
+him. If he's a fraud it is time the thing was stopped for Jean's sake."</p>
+
+<p>He looked much more like the old Heriot Walkingshaw than he had for some
+weeks. Then he smiled, though still with an exceedingly shrewd air.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he concluded, "we'll see." </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+
+<p>There is a by-street which opens out of the King's Road, Chelsea, and
+for a short distance pursues a course as respectable as the early career
+of Mr. Walkingshaw. Then, not unlike that gentleman, it diverges at
+right angles; and having once begun, goes on doubling for the remainder
+of its existence, shedding, as it gets round each corner, the more
+orthodox houses that once bore it company, till at last it becomes a
+mere devious lane, the haunt of low eccentric buildings; in places,
+owing to a casual tree or two, positively shady. The eccentric
+buildings, one is not greatly surprised to hear, are nothing more
+decorous than the studios of Bohemian painters. Such are the dangers of
+deviating from a straight and adequately lamp-lit route.</p>
+
+<p>In one of these studios a young man fiercely painted. His powerful,
+loosely clad figure stepped nervously back and forward, his brush now
+poised trembling in the air, now dabbing and swishing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>on the
+long-suffering canvas. His mop of brown hair had started the day brushed
+back and comparatively sleek; it was now a mere tousel. His butterfly
+tie had been a thing of some esthetic pretensions; it was become a
+tangle of silk. His smile had been bland and his manner courteous; he
+now resembled a buffalo with a bullet in it.</p>
+
+<p>"The beastly thing won't come right!" he roared.</p>
+
+<p>Another young man reclined upon a deck-chair in company with three
+cushions. His appearance was equally artistic, but he seemed less
+strenuous. He was pale, slim, rather pretty than handsome, and
+engagingly polite.</p>
+
+<p>"Cheer up, dear old fellow," he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"Damn!" muttered Lucas.</p>
+
+<p>He toiled in agitated silence for some minutes, and then burst out
+again.</p>
+
+<p>"No one will ever exhibit the thing; no one will ever look twice at it;
+there's not a fool big enough in England to buy it! And it's all but the
+best bit of work I've ever done."</p>
+
+<p>"That 'all but' lets you down, I suppose," observed the other gently.</p>
+
+<p>"One could fill a lunatic asylum with you alone," replied the painter.
+"Why don't you go <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>off and do some work instead of exhibiting your
+incompetence here?"</p>
+
+<p>"I told you I'd a headache," said the young man in the chair languidly.</p>
+
+<p>"What the devil's in your head to ache beats me," declared Lucas,
+accompanying this unkind speech by a brutal onslaught on the canvas.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Lucas!" smiled his friend. "You seem to have come under some
+softening influence lately. Can you be in love?"</p>
+
+<p>The painter turned and confronted him with a less furious air.</p>
+
+<p>"You know I am," he replied, and strode to the end of the studio and
+back, while the other contemplated him in pitying silence.</p>
+
+<p>"I feel a fraud, Hillary," he resumed.</p>
+
+<p>"So long as you aren't found out&mdash;" began Hillary.</p>
+
+<p>"I have found myself out," retorted Lucas. "I boasted I could make an
+income for her&mdash;and look at this daub!"</p>
+
+<p>"The public likes daubs."</p>
+
+<p>"If they know the signature; yes, by all means. But who knows mine?"</p>
+
+<p>"Some Jews are great picture-buyers," suggested Hillary. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p><p>An answering gleam lit Lucas's eye for an instant, and then burned out.</p>
+
+<p>"For the artist there are three ways of making a living," he pronounced.
+"One is painting for the million&mdash;children with rosy cheeks and large
+wheelbarrows; beds with angels hovering over them and kind doctors with
+stethoscopes sitting beside them&mdash;that sort of thing&mdash;the obvious road
+to the heart. The second is hitting the superior kind of idiot in the
+eye&mdash;inventing a cheap new formula&mdash;putting a goblin upside down in one
+corner, an immoral-looking woman in another, and passing the arrangement
+off as an allegory. Then up jumps an interpreter and booms you. The
+third is slowly making your name by the sweat of your brow, and selling
+your pictures when you are fifty-five to people who never recognized
+their merit till they had been told you were famous."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Hillary, "that gives you a biggish target."</p>
+
+<p>"Does it? I have no popular knack; I lack the conjurer's instincts; and
+I don't mean to wait for Jean Walkingshaw till I am fifty-five."</p>
+
+<p>"Must it be she?" asked Hillary.</p>
+
+<p>"It must!" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p><p>"Her father won't help?"</p>
+
+<p>"If he wasn't so infernally respectable he'd shoot me at sight."</p>
+
+<p>"Run away with her. Once you've got her, he won't be heathen enough to
+let her starve."</p>
+
+<p>"In the first place," replied Lucas, "she wouldn't run away with me.
+That's the infernal, charming, irritating, splendid thing about her&mdash;she
+is true to us both."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't chuck you and won't chuck the old boy either?"</p>
+
+<p>Lucas nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"The thing can be done," said Hillary languidly; "it only wants a little
+energy and enterprise. Great achievements are never accomplished by
+slackness. Woman was created to yield to the energetic advances of man.
+Remember that, Luc&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Besides," interrupted the painter, who had paid singularly little
+attention to this stirring speech, "I happen to be handicapped by a
+little pride. Can you imagine me helping her to compose begging letters
+to her father? 'We are in great distress this winter, and a check for
+twenty pounds will be gratefully, etc. etc. etc.!' Can you see me
+stooping to that sort of thing? What?" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p><p>"I merely threw out the idea as it were tentatively," said Hillary
+mildly.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas gave his mustaches a fierce twist and planted himself firmly with
+his back to the despised picture.</p>
+
+<p>"It must have been a practical joke of the Devil's that gave Jean that
+father and then threw me in her way. Old Heriot Walkingshaw is one of
+those men who were created as an antidote to human affection. He stands
+between his children's hearts and the sunshine outside like the brick
+wall of a prison. His virtues are those of a paperweight. Neither his
+daughter nor his fortune are likely to blow away while he is planted on
+them; and there his merits end."</p>
+
+<p>"What a dreadful fellow," murmured Hillary.</p>
+
+<p>"And the worst of such fellows is that they are infectious. One can
+catch grimness and hardness of soul just as one can catch high spirits
+and courage. Bah! I won't think of him any more. I'll have another shot
+at this thing."</p>
+
+<p>He took his brush again and faced the canvas. For a few minutes he
+labored painfully, and then turned with an exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>"The memory of the old devil has got into my brush&mdash;" he began, and then
+stopped. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p><p>There was a knock upon the studio door.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo! A patron?" said Hillary.</p>
+
+<p>"A dun more probably," muttered Lucas.</p>
+
+<p>He opened the door and found himself confronting the rubicund
+countenance and imposing form of Heriot Walkingshaw. Over the shoulder
+of this apparition he looked into the clear eyes of Frank. They were
+trying to convey a caution to use whatever tact he possessed; but the
+artist was too dumbfounded to heed them.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" he demanded. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER V</h3>
+
+<p>"Good-day, Mr. Vernon," said his guest.</p>
+
+<p>He held out his hand, and Lucas mechanically shook it.</p>
+
+<p>"May we come in?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"If you want to&mdash;certainly," said Lucas; and they entered.</p>
+
+<p>"A fellow-artist, I presume?" inquired Mr. Walkingshaw, glancing at the
+pale and pretty youth.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas automatically introduced them.</p>
+
+<p>"Very happy to meet you, Mr. Hillary," said the W.S. genially. "Let me
+introduce my son."</p>
+
+<p>Leaving the two young men to entertain each other, he walked aside for a
+few paces with his host. His countenance was composed and his air
+dignified; though, as he thoughtlessly took Vernon's arm to direct his
+partially paralyzed movements, the artist began dimly to apprehend that
+no overt outrage was premeditated.</p>
+
+<p>"I say," he began in that pleasantly unconventional vein which appeared
+to afford his vigorous <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>reflections the readiest outlet, "this must seem
+a bit odd and so on, but why the deuce should we go on quarreling just
+because we've once begun? We're above that, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no wish&mdash;" began the artist.</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly, exactly," interrupted his visitor breezily; "we both mean the
+same thing, so that's all right. Perhaps we misunderstood each other on
+a previous occasion. Of course perhaps we didn't&mdash;we may be a couple of
+scoundrels just as we imagined, eh? Ha, ha! Still, let's assume there
+was a little misunderstanding. Now what have you been painting?"</p>
+
+<p>The artist's blue eyes looked at him fixedly.</p>
+
+<p>"I am addressing the same Mr. Heriot Walkingshaw?" he inquired in a
+voice compounded of several emotions.</p>
+
+<p>"The same, my dear fellow&mdash;essentially the same. I look
+better&mdash;younger&mdash;fitter, I dare say, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Lucas, still eyeing him curiously, "you do."</p>
+
+<p>"But you see I am still Frank's father."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed genially, and this argument at last seemed to convince the
+young man that he was not the victim of a strange delusion. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p><p>"I am sorry for being a little hasty&mdash;" he began, with a candid smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," interrupted Mr. Walkingshaw good-humoredly. "Don't mention
+it. There was a lady in the case; that's excuse enough for any two men
+quarreling. By the way, my daughter is not with me, but she would no
+doubt wish to have her kind regards&mdash;that is to say&mdash;well, well, let me
+see the pictures."</p>
+
+<p>In the course of this speech the affable gentleman had been reminded by
+the senior partner that one must be careful not to commit oneself
+rashly. It was odd how often he required these warnings nowadays&mdash;and
+how frequently they came just half a sentence too late.</p>
+
+<p>"Brush been busy?" he added hastily.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas pointed to a dozen or more canvases stacked against the wall.</p>
+
+<p>"Fairly," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"May I look at them? Oh, don't trouble to take them off the floor. I'll
+just turn them over for myself, if I may."</p>
+
+<p>He stooped over the stack and moved each canvas in turn till he could
+catch a glimpse of its face. With this ocular demonstration that there
+actually were pictures upon all of them he seemed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>content, for he
+turned to his host with an approving smile.</p>
+
+<p>"You have not been altogether idle, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Altogether idle!"</p>
+
+<p>Hillary turned at the exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor old Lucas is working himself to death," he said, with his gentle
+and insinuating air.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Walkingshaw, and surveyed the artist with
+increased respect.</p>
+
+<p>"Hillary is inclined to talk&mdash;" began Lucas, but was silenced by a
+ferocious stamp of Frank's boot.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, you idiot!" he murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Lucas," said his friend readily, "I am not inclined to talk as a
+rule, but I cannot bear to hear you maligned. I never saw a man work as
+you do."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that your candid opinion of our friend?" smiled Mr. Walkingshaw with
+a pleasant air.</p>
+
+<p>"It feebly endeavors to express my opinion," replied the engaging young
+man. "He paints on an average one picture per six hours of daylight; and
+the most astounding thing sir, is their consistently high merit."</p>
+
+<p>Lucas looked decidedly uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't sell them, unfortunately," he blurted out. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p><p>The W.S. turned grave.</p>
+
+<p>"None of them?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't sold much lately."</p>
+
+<p>"How's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"The public is not yet educated up to him," said Hillary. "But between
+ourselves, Mr. Walkingshaw, if I had a thousand pounds at this moment, I
+should put it all in Vernons; they'll be worth five thousand in ten
+years' time at a modest estimate&mdash;a very modest estimate."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a critic?" inquired the W.S.</p>
+
+<p>"I am considered so," answered the youth modestly.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw turned to the embarrassed artist.</p>
+
+<p>"At the same time, I gather that whatever your merits, this is one of
+your lean years, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Devilish," said Lucas.</p>
+
+<p>"That must be discouraging?"</p>
+
+<p>"It might be if I let it."</p>
+
+<p>"That is a damned good answer, Vernon," said Mr. Walkingshaw
+emphatically.</p>
+
+<p>Before the three young men had recovered from the sympathetic surprise
+which this reply occasioned, he had planted himself in front of the
+unfinished picture on the easel. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p><p>"What's this you're doing? A wood? Ah, yes, I recognize the trees. Very
+lifelike indeed&mdash;most creditable. What's the price of it, if I may ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"What I can get," replied Lucas, with a reminiscence of his afternoon's
+despair.</p>
+
+<p>"Still the same unpractical fellow!" smiled Mr. Walkingshaw. "You're not
+very strong on figures, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't meet many," said the artist candidly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," suggested his visitor kindly, "what about fifty pounds?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd think myself devilish lucky."</p>
+
+<p>"May I have it at that?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>You?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't booked already, I trust?"</p>
+
+<p>"N&mdash;no."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a bargain, then?"</p>
+
+<p>Lucas's eyes were again fixed in a strange stare. Then a quick change of
+expression broke over his face.</p>
+
+<p>"You're very kind, Mr. Walkingshaw!" he said warmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Tuts, tuts, not a bit. I want to warm up my study with a splash of
+color. That's the way you artists would put it. Eh?" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p><p>"A splash of color&mdash;yes."</p>
+
+<p>"You see, I'm getting the hang of your lingo already, Vernon. And now,
+what else have you got for sale? What do you recommend, Hillary, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>That young man displayed a sudden aptitude for business which had never
+characterized his own efforts to make a livelihood.</p>
+
+<p>"As a work of art likely to rise enormously in value, I conscientiously
+recommend that," he said, pointing to another canvas.</p>
+
+<p>"A nice head," commented Mr. Walkingshaw. "High-toned yet spiritual, one
+might term it. I like the way the eyes seem to look out of the paper&mdash;or
+is it canvas it's done on?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;er&mdash;I beg your pardon," said Lucas, waking suddenly from his
+reverie; "I&mdash;I'll let you have that thrown in."</p>
+
+<p>"Wits a wool-gathering, Vernon?" smiled his patron indulgently. "But I
+dare say you've some excuse. I'll take the picture with pleasure, but I
+insist on paying for it. Let us put this at twenty-five pounds."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't let you!" cried Lucas. "I give it you&mdash;I make you a present of
+it. You've been so kind already&mdash;" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p><p>"Pooh! Come, come," interrupted Mr. Walkingshaw kindly, yet firmly.
+"You've got to make your way, and how will you do that if you give away
+your&mdash;fruits of the brush you'd call them, I suppose, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>The artist could not but admit the force of this argument, and in the
+course of an hour had the satisfaction of selling, at considerably above
+his usual market price, no fewer than four of his masterpieces; while
+Mr. Walkingshaw, on his part, became the fortunate possessor of a
+promising but unfinished sylvan scene, the portrait of an unknown lady,
+a rainy day upon the Norfolk coast, and (what he considered the gem of
+the collection) a recognizable panorama of Edinburgh from the north,
+including among its minor details a splash of red ocher which he felt
+certain was the grand stand at the Scottish Union's football field. This
+recalled the sympathetic widow, and gave the picture a sentimental as
+well as an artistic value. He could have wished that on this, as indeed
+on most other occasions, the artist had paid more attention to
+verisimilitude and less to mere vague harmonies and so forth, but as he
+was assured by that intelligent young Hillary that this method was all
+the Go at present, and that his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>friend Lucas was recognized as a rising
+Dab at it. That at least is how he retailed the argument afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>At the conclusion of these arrangements he again drew the artist aside.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like a check immediately," he inquired, "or upon delivery of
+the pictures?"</p>
+
+<p>With considerable animation Lucas assured him there was no hurry at all.</p>
+
+<p>"There is a distinction between punctuality and hurry," replied Mr.
+Walkingshaw. "I recommend it to your notice, Vernon. As to the date of
+payment, I suggest by the first post after the delivery of the pictures.
+Does that satisfy you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite," said the painter, with a subdued air.</p>
+
+<p>"Strenuous work, patience, and the cultivation of business habits are
+the recommendations I make to you, my dear fellow&mdash;as I would to any
+other young man. They have been, if I may say so, the secret of any
+little success I may have achieved myself. Good-by, Vernon, good-by!"</p>
+
+<p>He departed thus upon a note of austere benevolence, leaving behind him
+a grateful yet chastened artist.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Frank," said he, as they drove back together, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>"that young fellow
+has managed to sell one or two pictures, I'm glad to find."</p>
+
+<p>His eyes twinkled merrily as he spoke, but before his son had time to
+reply the senior partner spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"I only hope he keeps it up," was his addendum.</p>
+
+<p>For a young man, Frank had remarkable discretion (apart from his one
+lamentable lapse). He dutifully agreed with this sentiment, and then
+proceeded to congratulate his parent on the taste with which he had
+selected his pictures and the excellence of the investment he had made.
+Mr. Walkingshaw appeared gratified by his approval.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't throw my money away, Frank," he said complacently. "By the way,
+what's the cab fare?"</p>
+
+<p>"One and six," said Frank.</p>
+
+<p>In the temporary absence of the senior partner, Mr. Walkingshaw handed
+the man half a crown, and entered the hotel humming a romantic melody.</p>
+
+<p>As he crossed the hall a deferential attendant approached with a
+telegram.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo!" said he, "a wire. I wonder who the deuce this is from." </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3>
+
+<p>It is a lamentable fact, remarked upon even by popular politicians, that
+the very measures which give the highest satisfaction to some people
+produce the profoundest depression in others. And it is worth adding
+that it is not always the most original reflections which have procured
+for their authors the widest reputation (though, if one wanted to quote
+an authority for this last axiom, one would perhaps turn rather to the
+popular theologians).</p>
+
+<p>Of the truth of the first proposition, that worthy young man, Andrew
+Walkingshaw, was an unhappy example. It is the case that his parent's
+disappearance was not without compensating advantages. He was spared a
+number of minor annoyances, which of late had been the undeserved
+accompaniment of his blameless life; but then, the mystery of that
+disappearance, its unorthodoxy, its appalling suggestions of scandal! He
+knew now what it must feel like to have a relative engaged upon
+fashionable divorce proceedings or <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>conspicuously notorious on the
+music-hall stage. For, despite his industry in circulating a
+circumstantial account of the business that had called the head of the
+firm so suddenly away, he thought he observed in the face of every
+acquaintance a kind of sly and knowing expression. "Aha!" every one of
+them seemed to say, "I've got my knife into <i>you</i>, Andrew!"</p>
+
+<p>Beneath the roof of the respectable mansion in which he had hitherto
+spent a life unsullied by mystery or romance he found, to his horror,
+that these sinister manifestations were even more marked than in his
+club. The restored happiness of Jean was a bad sign, very ominous under
+the circumstances. It is true that she professed complete ignorance of
+their father's movements, but Andrew was too astute a lawyer to pay much
+attention to what people said; it was how they behaved that he went by;
+and Jean's conduct was suspicious. Why should she be smiling while this
+dark cloud hung over their reputations? The like of that looked very
+bad. He resolved to probe the matter a bit further.</p>
+
+<p>"There's some one wanting to know where Frank has got to," he began,
+with an ingenuous air, when he met her next. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p><p>"What does he want to see him about?" inquired Jean.</p>
+
+<p>"He didn't say, but I thought perhaps you had heard Frank mention where
+he was going. Did you by any chance?"</p>
+
+<p>His air remained as ingenuous as ever, but Jean looked at him
+doubtfully. For a moment she hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, where was it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I don't know whether he has gone there."</p>
+
+<p>"The chances are he has," said Andrew. "What was his intention?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who was the man that wanted to know?"</p>
+
+<p>Andrew was particularly scrupulous never to deviate far from the high
+road of truth. Of course there were footpaths alongside that led to the
+same place, and gave one a certain amount of latitude; but beyond these
+no moral or respectable man should venture. Supposing one were caught in
+an adjoining field cutting a corner!</p>
+
+<p>"That's neither here nor there," he said evasively.</p>
+
+<p>"Was there really anybody at all asking for him, or is the 'some one'
+yourself?" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p><p>Her brother looked severe.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Jean," said he, "you know where he has gone&mdash;I've got that
+much out of you; and it's your duty to tell me."</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes were fixed on him steadily.</p>
+
+<p>"You think Frank and father have gone off together?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know nothing about that."</p>
+
+<p>"And that's why you are suddenly so curious about Frank?"</p>
+
+<p>He regarded her in injured silence; but instead of appearing affected by
+his unspoken reproach, she continued with an air of knowing both his
+intentions and her own.</p>
+
+<p>"If father wanted you to know he would have told you himself."</p>
+
+<p>"It is for his own sake I want to find out."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you admit you were trying to find out about father! What benefit
+would it be to him if you knew?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is most inconvenient at the office not knowing his address."</p>
+
+<p>"If it really were very inconvenient, father would be certain to think
+of that and send you his address himself."</p>
+
+<p>"He has not thought of it." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p><p>"Well then, there can't be any great inconvenience."</p>
+
+<p>Not for the first time in his life Andrew wished that all humanity
+belonged to his own sensible, candid, trustworthy sex.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you there is," he insisted.</p>
+
+<p>"I trust father implicitly," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you think his recent behavior has been the kind of thing to inspire
+confidence?"</p>
+
+<p>"It has in me!" she answered enthusiastically.</p>
+
+<p>"You have a high opinion of his sense," he sneered.</p>
+
+<p>"A great deal higher than I have of anybody else's in the world&mdash;in
+Edinburgh, anyhow!" she retorted, and with her chin held high broke off
+the conference.</p>
+
+<p>This was sufficiently exasperating, but it was not the worst that
+treacherous sex could do. The widow's demeanor was a hundred times more
+menacing. She was so motherly towards Jean, so sisterly towards his
+unfortunate aunt, so skittishly condescending towards himself, that his
+previous suspicions of her were sunshiny compared with the dark
+convictions that lay heavier upon him each day. Her black eyes danced
+mockingly whenever he looked into them; she seemed always <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>to be hugging
+the most delicious secret. Andrew doubted she had hugged more than a
+secret in this house.</p>
+
+<p>It was a further confirmation of her perfidy that ever since his
+father's flight she had made a point of being down to breakfast before
+him, so that he could never see what letters she received. That was
+damning evidence against her&mdash;damnable evidence, in fact, for it argued
+a degree both of intelligence and energy for which he had not given her
+credit. Like his father before him, he was discovering that there was
+more up this sparkling lady's sleeve than met the eye.</p>
+
+<p>A few mornings after the disappearance he thought he had caught her.
+When he entered the room she was reading a letter. He snapped up the
+chance instantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that my father's writing?" he inquired, dissimulating his acuteness
+under an easy conversational air.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a little like it," she replied, with an amiable smile, slipping
+the letter into its envelop and turning that face downwards on the
+table.</p>
+
+<p>The W.S. began to respect as much as he detested her. All through
+breakfast she rippled with the happiest smiles and the gayest
+conversation. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>At the end, his detestation had again got its head in
+front of his respect.</p>
+
+<p>But the following morning he himself received a letter which threw the
+widow and her smiles so completely into the background that for the next
+forty-eight hours he was scarcely aware of her existence. It ran thus:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="right2">"250 <span class="smcap">Bury Street,</span></span><br />
+<span class="right3"><span class="smcap">St. James', S.W.</span></span></p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Andrew</span>,&mdash;It is with the greatest concern and regret that I
+feel myself compelled to write to you on the subject of my old
+friend, your poor father. No doubt you will be able to judge better
+than myself how far he is responsible for his conduct, and whether
+or not there is any serious need for anxiety; but I consider I
+should be doing less than my duty if I failed to inform you of the
+risks to his health and his reputation which he is running at
+present. I spent last night with him; in fact, it was only in the
+small hours of this morning that I left him still dancing at the
+Covent Garden Fancy Ball. I assure you I am at a loss how to
+express my consternation and alarm at his peculiar behavior. Are
+you aware that he has taken to dyeing his hair and doctoring his
+face, so that at first sight one might almost mistake him for a
+much younger man than we know him to be? The extravagance of his
+language <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>and restlessness of his movements lends color to the
+suspicion that he is a little wrong in his head. I do not wish to
+alarm you unnecessarily, but if you had seen him galloping about in
+a domino and a false nose at two o'clock in the morning I cannot
+help thinking you would share my concern. He seems also to have
+lost all his old caution about money matters. Are you aware that he
+is stopping at the Hotel Gigantique, of all places, and doing
+himself and your brother Frank like a couple of millionaires? I
+cannot help considering this a very remarkable symptom.</p>
+
+<p>"I myself am in bed to-day, so pray forgive the handwriting.&mdash;With
+kind regards to you all, believe me, yours sincerely,</p>
+
+<p><span class="right3">"<span class="smcap">Charles Munro.</span>"</span><br />
+</p></div>
+
+<p>The firmament seemed to darken as though a thunderstorm brooded over the
+devoted house. Already in fancy Andrew could hear the first crashings
+and flashes of the coming scandal. His appetite vanished, his coffee
+grew cold, and presently he rose and silently left the room. Yet the man
+of superior mental equipment rarely fails to extract some crumbs of
+consolation out of the direst disaster. Andrew extracted his by
+summoning Jean before he started for the office and handing her the
+terrible letter. As he watched <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>her read it, the phrase shaped by his
+countenance might be read without the aid of any signal-book&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"What did I tell you?"</p>
+
+<p>Certainly there was a well-earned morsel of satisfaction to be derived
+from her startled eyes and the little catches in her breath. She could
+believe him now! When she spoke at last her first words were exceedingly
+gratifying.</p>
+
+<p>"What a horrid old man he must be!"</p>
+
+<p>He looked suitably reproachful.</p>
+
+<p>"That is strong language to use of your father."</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes blazed.</p>
+
+<p>"I am talking of Colonel Munro! The idea of giving father away like
+that. It's one of the very meanest things I ever heard of! I sincerely
+hope he may be in bed for a month."</p>
+
+<p>She swept away, and her brother was left to brood gloomily upon the
+selfish perversity that thus actually defrauded him of his legitimate
+triumph. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3>
+
+<p>"Well," said Andrew, "what is to be done?"</p>
+
+<p>The problem was undoubtedly delicate. He had paid it the compliment of
+summoning his two sensible married sisters to aid him with their
+counsel; and even they, though not lacking in decision as a rule,
+regarded first the Colonel's letter and then their brother with
+disturbed and doubtful eyes. He gave them no hint of the dreadful and
+disreputable change in their father's very being; that was positively
+too shocking to confide even to a sister (besides, they wouldn't have
+believed him), but he considered that the essentials of the problem were
+now fairly grasped by them both, and he was pleased to find a
+sympathetic unanimity of horror.</p>
+
+<p>"He can't be allowed to go on disgracing himself in London; that much is
+perfectly clear," said Mrs. Ramornie.</p>
+
+<p>"Not to speak of ruining us all," added Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you not go and fetch him home?" asked Mrs. Donaldson.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew pursed his lips. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p><p>"In the first place, would he come? You know how infernally obstinate he
+can be. In the second place, do we want him making an exhibition of
+himself here?"</p>
+
+<p>"He would not have quite the opportunities here."</p>
+
+<p>"Not for spending money, I admit; but we don't want him taking the chair
+and making speeches at the W.S. dinner to-morrow night in his present
+condition."</p>
+
+<p>"Will he not remember and come back for it, anyhow?" suggested Mrs.
+Ramornie.</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"He has never spoken about it for a long while. I'm practically positive
+he has forgotten."</p>
+
+<p>"But do you not need him at the office?" asked Mrs. Donaldson.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Need</i> him!"</p>
+
+<p>"I can only tell you," she replied, "that Hector says he gets through
+business in a most surprising way, for all his eccentricity."</p>
+
+<p>"Very surprising," he retorted sarcastically.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she said airily, "I know you fancy yourself, but Hector declares
+father is the man for his money nowadays."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew's cheeks drooped gloomily. He had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>heard hints of this
+preposterous opinion once or twice lately, and they disgusted his sense
+of fitness. How could a man possibly be good at business if he rushed
+through it like a steam-engine? Supposing one of the telegraph posts at
+the side wanted a touch of tar, how could you notice it going at that
+pace! But what was the use in arguing with a woman?</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I can only tell you this," he snapped: "there's Madge Dunbar
+waiting for him here with her mouth open."</p>
+
+<p>The two sisters immediately relinquished all idea of bringing him home.</p>
+
+<p>"But if we let him stay in London, he'll be bankrupt in a month!" cried
+Andrew desperately.</p>
+
+<p>"What the deuce is to be done?"</p>
+
+<p>They pondered for a few minutes in silence, and then Mrs. Ramornie
+exclaimed, with an inspired air&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"He must go abroad!"</p>
+
+<p>"And how are you going to manage that?" inquired Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>"You've got to go and take him."</p>
+
+<p>"Me!" he cried. "But&mdash;but, dash it, Maggie, he'll never go with <i>me</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"You will have to dissemble a little, of course; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>pretend you want a
+holiday too, and take him to&mdash;to, well, we must look up some inexpensive
+French watering-place."</p>
+
+<p>Gertrude smiled her approval.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the idea, Andrew! Go up in a white felt hat, and tell him you
+know of a naughty little place in France where you can get dancing.
+He'll jump at it!"</p>
+
+<p>Their brother regarded them with ever-increasing gloom.</p>
+
+<p>"That kind of thing is not in my line&mdash;" he began; but once more he was
+impressed with the disadvantages of a bi-sexual world. The two ladies
+seemed positively incapable of grasping his objections, either to
+wearing a Homburg hat or recommending a naughty French watering-place.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't insist on its being white; grey will do," said Mrs. Donaldson.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I should never dream of taking him to a really disreputable
+place," said Mrs. Ramornie; "you only want a Casino and a little
+promenading, and so on."</p>
+
+<p>"It will be great fun, Andrew!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is your duty, Andrew."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes; of course we know you are an Elder <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>of the Kirk and all the
+rest of it; but on an occasion, don't you know, Andrew!"</p>
+
+<p>"What alternative do you suggest, Andrew?"</p>
+
+<p>Yet he was still hanging fire when Jean entered. It had been tacitly
+understood that her presence was not required at the council of war, and
+the marked silence which followed her entry might reasonably have warned
+her that matters were being discussed too complicated for young
+unmarried girls. Yet she closed the door behind her and came forward
+with a quietly resolute air.</p>
+
+<p>"I've only just heard you were here," she said. "You are talking about
+father, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"We are," replied Mrs. Ramornie briefly.</p>
+
+<p>Jean sat down.</p>
+
+<p>"What have you decided?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"We have decided he should go abroad with Andrew for a little change."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you need to ask why, Jean? Surely you don't want him to go on making
+a fool of himself in London?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see why he shouldn't go to a dance occasionally if he wants
+to."</p>
+
+<p>"Go to a dance!" exclaimed Mrs. Donaldson. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p><p>"My dear Jean! do you suppose this was an ordinary&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, Gertrude," said their brother austerely.</p>
+
+<p>"Anyhow," said Mrs. Ramornie, "it is quite settled that he must leave
+London at all costs, and that it is inadvisable he should return to
+Edinburgh at present."</p>
+
+<p>"But Aunt Mary was only saying to-day that he has to preside at a dinner
+to-morrow night."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he'll forget all about that," said Gertrude, "and, of course, we
+don't mean to remind him."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because he is not to be trusted at present," said Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>A quick flush irradiated Jean's clear face.</p>
+
+<p>"He <i>is</i> to be trusted. He is to be trusted far more than ever before in
+his life!"</p>
+
+<p>The three counselors exchanged glances.</p>
+
+<p>"We know better than you do," said Mrs. Ramornie severely.</p>
+
+<p>But Jean was not easily to be quelled.</p>
+
+<p>"I think it will be a perfect shame if you allow father to forget his
+engagement," she protested.</p>
+
+<p>Her eldest sister's face grew more like Andrew's than ever.</p>
+
+<p>"He must <i>not</i> come home at present, and we <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>trust that Andrew will do
+his duty and not permit him to stay in London."</p>
+
+<p>"Andrew!" exclaimed Jean. "How can he prevent him?"</p>
+
+<p>Their brother hung back no longer.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall go up to London to-morrow morning," he announced.</p>
+
+<p>"Splendid!" cried Gertrude.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not propose to do anything ridiculous. If I can get him to go to
+some place in the south of England and stop for a month or two, that
+will be quite sufficient; and I do not propose, either, to wear any
+other clothes than what I've got at present."</p>
+
+<p>Having thus asserted his independence of conduct and apparel, he turned
+again to Jean.</p>
+
+<p>"That is what we have decided," he said.</p>
+
+<p>She jumped up, her lip quivering a little. Then she controlled herself,
+and as she left the room only said quietly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you for telling me."</p>
+
+<p>The council was then able to conclude its deliberations without further
+interruption. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3>
+
+<p>After dinner that night, Andrew found Mrs. Dunbar alone in the
+drawing-room, and immediately turned to withdraw.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you not going to have coffee, Andrew?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>There was something different in her manner; something almost nervous;
+something apparently less hostile. Andrew glanced at her suspiciously.
+What new move in her diabolical game did this signify?</p>
+
+<p>"I've got letters to write," he answered coldly, and shut the door
+decisively behind him.</p>
+
+<p>The fair widow sighed, and again picked up a letter lying in her lap and
+looked at it unhappily. She had kept her word and written to Charlie
+Munro, and unfortunately Heriot had forgotten to warn him that his
+answer to any such communication must be exceedingly discreet. No wonder
+she seemed distressed.</p>
+
+<p>Naturally, the junior partner gave his fair enemy no information
+regarding his movements. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>She saw him leave in the morning as usual,
+apparently to go to the office, and it was not till some time later that
+she learned from his aunt of his departure for London. Curiously enough,
+she seemed rather pleased than otherwise by this move. Her
+correspondence with Colonel Munro had left the most unsettling effects.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Andrew was nearing London. He was pleased to find his train
+arrive upon the stroke of 6:15, for he valued punctuality above
+everything except his reputation. From the station he drove to the large
+political club where he always put up, ate a dinner that exactly
+accorded with his station in life, and took a horse bus to the Hotel
+Gigantique. (Motor buses were only just beginning to be seen upon the
+streets at that time, and he was always suspicious of noisy
+innovations.)</p>
+
+<p>By the merest chance, the first person he saw in the hall of the hotel
+was Frank, attired in overcoat and opera hat, and evidently bound for
+some extravagant expedition, the cost of which would no doubt be
+defrayed by his parent to the detriment of his brother's and sisters'
+patrimony.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Frank," said the elder brother, "where's your father?"</p>
+
+<p>The "your" was a subtle indication of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>depth to which Mr.
+Walkingshaw had fallen in the estimation of the right-minded.</p>
+
+<p>"Out of town," said Frank briefly.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's he gone?"</p>
+
+<p>Frank shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"You can ask at the office," he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to say you don't know?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean to say it's none of my business."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew had begun the conversation in a decidedly hectoring manner. He
+now began to alter his key a little.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Frank, things are pretty serious. We've got to stop this
+tomfoolery."</p>
+
+<p>The other interrupted him.</p>
+
+<p>"What tomfoolery?"</p>
+
+<p>"Making an exhibition of himself all over London, and wasting his money
+at a place like this. You know perfectly well what I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"I only know that he's in the best form I've ever seen him in my life.
+He's just a devilish kind and sporting guv'nor, that's what he is."</p>
+
+<p>"If you mean going about the most disreputable places in London in a
+half-intoxicated condition&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's a lie, anyhow," said Frank calmly, yet with a glint in his eye.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p><p>His brother recoiled a pace, but his manner grew none the less
+uncompromising.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you'll say he's moving in fine high-class society, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a lot better than anything he ever found in his office."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," replied the junior partner; "and now perhaps you'll tell me
+when he's expected back?"</p>
+
+<p>"Day or two," said Frank shortly.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew pondered for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh?" he remarked at length, and without so much as a good-night he
+turned on his heel and walked out of the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>Frank's conscience harassed him for a long time after this interview. He
+wished he could be quite certain that his manner towards his brother was
+entirely the result of Andrew's disagreeable references to their father.
+He would be the most ill-conditioned sweep unkicked, the most
+dishonorable sneaking blackguard, if by any chance he had allowed his
+luckless passion to prejudice him! He began to wish he were back in
+India again. Was this beastly furlough never coming to an end? And so he
+drove off in his hansom, alternately sighing and cursing himself, to
+watch what he had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>selected from the pictures in the illustrated papers
+as the most sentimental drama in town.</p>
+
+<p>The advantage of living a well-regulated life was never better
+illustrated than in the person of his brother Andrew. No qualms of
+conscience annoyed him as he drove back economically in his bus. He knew
+that he was right, and that people who violated his standards, and
+disagreed with him impertinently were wrong; and secure in that
+knowledge, he was enabled to hug against his outraged feelings the warm
+consolation of a grievance. All through his life this form of moral
+hot-water bottle had kept Andrew snug during many a painful night. It is
+worth being consistently righteous for the mere privilege of possessing
+this invaluable perquisite.</p>
+
+<p>He decided to wait in London for twenty-four hours longer on the chance
+of his father returning, and so it happened that he found himself in his
+club reading-room on the following afternoon at the hour when the
+<i>Scotsman</i> appeared to cheer the exiles from the north. He secured it at
+once, and with a consoling sense of homeliness proceeded to turn its
+familiar pages. All at once he was galvanized into the rigidity of a
+fire-iron&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p><p>"Writers to the Signets' Annual Dinner. Remarkable speech by Mr. Heriot
+Walkingshaw."</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>It was a few minutes before he summoned up his courage to read any
+further.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"Mr. Walkingshaw began by remarking that it was by the merest
+chance he was present among them to-night. He had been so engrossed
+by the attractions of London (laughter)&mdash;he did not mean what they
+meant (renewed laughter)&mdash;that he had positively forgotten all
+about his duty to his convivial fellow-practitioners till he was
+reminded by a telegram from a young lady (a laugh). He alluded to
+his daughter (cheers). Several morals might be drawn from this
+little incident. The advantages of the sixpenny telegram and the
+even greater advantages of getting on the right side of the fair
+sex (cheers and laughter); these were two morals, but what he
+proposed to bring more particularly under their notice to-night was
+this: that if a respectable old chap like himself could enjoy
+himself so thoroughly as to forget his duty, there was hope even
+for the oldest of them (slight applause). What satisfaction was it
+to become prosperous and respected if at the same time one became a
+bugbear to one's children and a bore to one's acquaintances?
+Supposing that one of the old and valued friends he saw before him
+could <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>suddenly see himself with the eyes of a young man of forty,
+or better still of thirty, what would he think of himself?&mdash;He
+would desire to drive a pin through the old fossil's trousers and
+wake him up! (a laugh). He would realize he was out of touch with
+life; that he was neglecting a dozen opportunities a day for giving
+pleasure to people who were still young enough to enjoy themselves,
+and thereby bucking himself up too. Mr. Walkingshaw begged his
+audience, particularly that portion of it over fifty, to beware of
+the fatal habit of growing old. How was this to be avoided? Well,
+everybody could not hope to have his own good fortune, but he could
+give them a few tips. In the first place, they should make a point
+of falling in love at least twice a year (laughter). The old duffer
+who ceased to fall in love was doomed. Then, while leading a
+strictly abstemious life on six days of the week, they should let
+themselves go a bit on the seventh; and when in that condition (a
+laugh)&mdash;he did not mean 'blind fu',' but merely a little the
+happier for it&mdash;while in that condition they should unlock their
+cash boxes and distribute a substantial sum among the poor and
+deserving young. Furthermore, they should make a point of mixing at
+least twice a week in fresh society&mdash;Bohemians, sportsmen, and the
+like. Also, nothing should be allowed to degenerate into a habit,
+especially churchgoing&mdash;" </p></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p><p>Andrew read no further. Half an hour later he was driving for King's
+Cross as fast as a cab could take him. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3>
+
+<p>It was characteristic of Andrew's serviceable and soundly unimaginative
+intellect that it should decline to grasp such a phenomenon as a father
+who was rapidly approaching his own age. It accepted the fact, since the
+evidence was now becoming overwhelming, but it firmly refused to go an
+inch beyond this concession. If one were seriously to regard his conduct
+as the natural result of youth and high spirits, there would be in a
+kind of way an excuse for it; and once you started that line of
+reasoning, where were you? You would be pardoning beggars because they
+were hungry, and bankrupts because they had no money, and all kinds of
+things. Andrew's conceptions of justice were not to be tampered with
+like that. It therefore followed (since he was extremely logical) that
+his parent must be looked upon simply as an erring and impenitent man.
+His age did not matter. That was his business. His son's was to see
+that, whether Mr. Heriot Walkingshaw professed to be eighty or eighteen,
+he conducted himself in a manner <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>befitting the head of so respectable a
+family and firm.</p>
+
+<p>The only defect in this pre-eminently honest way of regarding the matter
+was that it handicapped the junior partner when it came to forecasting
+his parent's probable movements. If you persist in basing your
+calculations on the assumption that a bird <i>ought</i> to be too old to fly,
+when it actually isn't, you will probably be wrong in expecting to find
+it always in your garden.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew let himself into the house about the hour of 8:30 a. m., and
+almost fell into the arms of the agitated widow.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you found him? Where is he? What has happened?" she implored him.</p>
+
+<p>It was another of Andrew's wholesome peculiarities that, having once
+distrusted a person, his suspicions could hardly be allayed, even by
+evidence that would have satisfied a hypochondriacal ex-detective. This
+safeguard against deception effectually preserved him from the dangerous
+extremes both of indigence and greatness. He looked upon his second
+cousin with a shocked and doubtful eye. She had come very close. Did she
+expect <i>him</i> to toy with her?</p>
+
+<p>"Have I found who?" he inquired coldly. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p><p>"Heriot!"</p>
+
+<p>"If you mean my father, I did not find him."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her sarcastically, and added, "He didn't mention that
+himself, of course?"</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't seen him!" she almost shouted.</p>
+
+<p>He looked thoroughly startled now.</p>
+
+<p>"Hasn't he been here?"</p>
+
+<p>"He was only in the house for an hour. That was the day before
+yesterday. He didn't let me know he was here&mdash;he didn't let his sister
+know&mdash;nobody knew but Jean!"</p>
+
+<p>"Where was he staying?"</p>
+
+<p>"At an hotel."</p>
+
+<p>"An hotel!" exclaimed Andrew in horror. "Going to all that expense, with
+his house standing waiting for him? That beats everything I've heard
+yet! Is he there still?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, he's not!" she cried, almost sobbing. "He's gone back to
+London."</p>
+
+<p>"Gone back to London!"</p>
+
+<p>"And Jean's gone with him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Jean! Has he not got enough bills to pay at that infernal millionaire's
+hotel without hers?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," wailed the lady. "I don't understand him. I thought he
+cared for me&mdash;and he didn't even let me know he was here!" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p><p>In spite of his anger with his erring parent, he was sufficiently master
+of his emotions to feel a lively concern at all this speech suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"I must get my breakfast," he observed icily, and was starting for the
+dining-room.</p>
+
+<p>She collected herself instantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Andrew!" she said, "you've got to go after him."</p>
+
+<p>He stared at her, first in extreme surprise, then with an exceedingly
+sophisticated smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, I've got my business to attend to."</p>
+
+<p>"You can go to the office first. There's a train about two."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll not be on it," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Some one's <i>got</i> to go and fetch him back."</p>
+
+<p>"It won't be me."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him for a moment with an expression which did not interest
+him. He neither professed to understand women nor to think it worth
+while trying.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>They went in to breakfast, but throughout the meal she never referred to
+Heriot again. Andrew flattered himself he had choked her off <i>that</i>
+subject. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER X</h3>
+
+<p>While Andrew was still patiently waiting in London, a south-bound
+express swung down the long slope from Shap; past Oxenholme, past
+Milnthorpe, past Carnforth, out into the green levels of Lancashire. In
+one corner of a first-class carriage sat Jean Walkingshaw, her eyes
+smiling approval at that very paper which was to disturb her brother's
+serenity a few hours later. Her father sat opposite watching her.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what do you think of it?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"I think it's most amusing and&mdash;and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Spirited?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, very spirited!" she laughed. "In fact, I think it's a splendid
+speech."</p>
+
+<p>He seemed gratified.</p>
+
+<p>"Some fellows didn't seem to care for it," he observed.</p>
+
+<p>"They must have been very stupid, then!"</p>
+
+<p>"Old buffers generally are," he replied. "Some of the young chaps
+thought it first-rate, even though they were a little startled for the
+moment. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>Though why people should feel startled by anything so
+self-evident as my remarks beats me. Be hanged to them for silly idiots!
+Eh, Jean?"</p>
+
+<p>His momentary expression of chagrin made way for a merry smile, which
+set his daughter smiling gaily back.</p>
+
+<p>"If they disagree with you, father, they must be!" she laughed.</p>
+
+<p>They sat silent for a few minutes, Jean watching the green fields and
+trees and gates and walls rush past to join the jagged fells behind
+them, her father watching her.</p>
+
+<p>"It's awfully good of you taking me back with you," she said presently.</p>
+
+<p>"If it's a treat for you, you deserve it," he answered affectionately;
+"and if it's not&mdash;well, anyhow, it's pleasant for me having your
+company."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a treat for me, though I don't quite see what I've done to
+deserve it."</p>
+
+<p>"You have stood by your father, my dear; and one good turn deserves
+another. I'd have been most infernally sick if I'd forgotten that
+dinner. It gave me the very chance of saying a word or two in season I'd
+been longing for. I only hope it will do the old fogies good." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p><p>He took up the paper and glanced again at the report.</p>
+
+<p>"'Remarkable speech,' they call it," he continued complacently. "Well,
+they are not very far wrong. It <i>was</i> a remarkable speech. Eh, Jean?"</p>
+
+<p>The good gentleman seemed unable to obtain his daughter's approval often
+enough. The fact was he had been a trifle disappointed with the attitude
+of some of his old friends last night. There was no doubt about it, he
+must go to the young folks for the meed of sympathy he deserved.</p>
+
+<p>Jean again looked out of the window, but she ceased to pay much
+attention to the backward-drifting landscape. Her heart was too full of
+hopes and questionings and restless wonder. In a little she turned to
+her father again and said, with an eye so candid and a smile so kind
+that many members even of her own sex would never have suspected a hint
+of ulterior design&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know, you are the very best of fathers!"</p>
+
+<p>He replied in the same spirit of affection, and she continued&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I can't tell you how much I am looking forward to being in London
+again! You couldn't <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>have done anything I'd have liked better."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he confessed, "London is an amusing place."</p>
+
+<p>"And one always meets so many people one knows there. That is one of its
+attractions."</p>
+
+<p>He agreed that it was.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder who I'll meet this time?"</p>
+
+<p>She spoke with an air of the most innocent speculation, but the nature
+of her parent's smile changed subtly.</p>
+
+<p>"Goodness knows who one will meet in London," he replied. "Not Andrew,
+we'll hope, eh? I wonder where he is now."</p>
+
+<p>At this change of subject her breast gave a quick little heave that
+might have marked a stifled sigh, but she dutifully joined in what she
+could not but think an unnecessarily prolonged series of speculations
+regarding the movements of a quite uninteresting young man.</p>
+
+<p>But her eyes were very bright indeed and her face distinct with
+suppressed excitement as they drove from Euston Station into the life of
+the streets. All the while she kept looking out of the cab window, as
+though amid the passing myriads she might happen already to recognize
+one of those acquaintances she hoped to meet. At last she was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>in
+London! And London in early spring; London with the smuts washed off by
+torrential showers and then flooded with glorious sunshine; London with
+the young leaves like a thin veil of green on the limes and elms, and
+the tassels hanging from the poplars, and the sycamores and horse
+chestnuts already casting grateful shade; London with the mowing
+machines whirling in the parks and the watering-carts swishing down the
+streets&mdash;is a fairy city for a young girl with a large hotel to live in,
+a generous father, and a lover somewhere hidden in those mysterious
+miles of crowds and houses. Jean half wished she could feel a little
+less impatient, so that she might relish every passing moment to its
+dregs.</p>
+
+<p>Her father, Frank, and she dined sumptuously and went to the most
+entertaining play afterwards&mdash;a stimulating medley of waltz refrains and
+gorgeous clothes and a funny man and fifty pretty girls. She did not
+pose as a dramatic critic, and thought it splendid. Then they had supper
+at the Savoy, and&mdash;so to bed.</p>
+
+<p>But though she had gone to her room, Jean lingered for long before her
+open window, looking wistfully over the humming, lamp-lit town. <i>His</i>
+name had not been mentioned. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER XI</h3>
+
+<p>Lucas painted, but not so fiercely as before; and again from the
+deck-chair Hillary watched him. He rented the studio next door, and
+having a comfortable private income of &pound;80 a year, generally spent his
+afternoons encouraging his friend. Occasionally, however, he considered
+it advisable to supply chastening reflections.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like it," he observed.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't like what?"</p>
+
+<p>"If he really meant to buy those pictures, I can't help thinking you
+would have heard from him again."</p>
+
+<p>The artist turned abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"It was only three days ago. I don't expect to hear yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear old Lucas, I don't want to discourage you, but I call it fishy.
+Supposing he has met some one since who really knew something about
+pictures?"</p>
+
+<p>His friend resumed work in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"There is also another possibility," continued <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>Hillary in his gentle
+voice. "He struck me as suspiciously extravagant&mdash;supposing he has gone
+bankrupt? I noticed, too, that his complexion was somewhat
+rubicund&mdash;supposing he has had an apoplectic fit? In that case, would
+his executors be bound by his verbal promise? Honestly, Lucas, I don't
+think so."</p>
+
+<p>There came a sharp rap on the door.</p>
+
+<p>"It will relax the strain on your intellect if you go and see who that
+is," suggested the painter.</p>
+
+<p>"A telegram," said Hillary, strolling back from the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Good heavens!" cried Lucas. "Read that."</p>
+
+<p>Hillary read&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot2"><p>"Come immediately. Unfortunate complication here. Require you to
+explain fully.&mdash;<span class="smcap">Heriot Walkingshaw.</span>" </p></div>
+
+<p>He looked considerably sobered.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I didn't really mean what I was saying&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Lucas interrupted him brusquely.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm off. Look after things here. What the devil&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He strode down the lane, hailed a cab, and drove <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>off to an
+accompaniment of the most anxious speculations.</p>
+
+<p>"This way, sir," said the attendant at the Hotel Gigantique.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas followed him, still racking his brains for some explanation not
+too disastrous to his hopes. The man opened the door of a sitting-room
+and closed it quietly behind him. In the room there was only one person,
+a girl with the sunniest hair and the straightest little nose and the
+most delightfully astonished face imaginable.</p>
+
+<p>"Jean!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>He took a quick step towards her and then remembered the gravity of the
+summons.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"Then it was you!" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Father only told me that some one&mdash;a man&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He held out the telegram abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you make of that?"</p>
+
+<p>She read it, and then read it again, and her bewilderment seemed to
+change into another emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"What did your father tell you to do?" asked Lucas. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p><p>She gave him the queerest look.</p>
+
+<p>"Get rid of the man if I could," she said.</p>
+
+<p>He ran his fingers through his mop of brown hair.</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't understand&mdash;what's the 'complication'?"</p>
+
+<p>She began to smile shyly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Lucas, don't you think&mdash;don't you see&mdash;there's nothing else. <i>I</i> must
+be the complication here."</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>"Ahem!" coughed Mr. Walkingshaw.</p>
+
+<p>The lovers endeavored to look as though the artist had been merely
+posing his patron's daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" inquired that patron genially.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas had not altogether lost his ready audacity.</p>
+
+<p>"I came at once, sir," he replied, "and I have explained fully. The
+complication has been cleared up."</p>
+
+<p>Laughing gleefully, chattering away much more like the prospective best
+man than the future father-in-law, he led them (an arm thrown about
+each) towards the sofa, where they sat together, crowded but happy.</p>
+
+<p>"What would you put your income at now, Lucas?" he inquired
+mischievously. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p><p>Lucas looked a little rueful.</p>
+
+<p>"The same fluctuating figures, I'm afraid," he confessed.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear fellow, don't worry," said Heriot kindly. "Money isn't
+everything in this world. Youth and love and pluck are the main things.
+Hang it, what if you do get into debt occasionally? You've got a pretty
+oofy father-in-law. Of course, my dear chap, I don't encourage
+extravagance; far from it"&mdash;he glanced complacently at the chaste
+upholstery of the Hotel Gigantique. "I believe in paying your way, and
+laying by for a rainy day, and all that kind of thing, just as much as
+ever I did&mdash;in theory, anyhow. But in practice I may just as well tell
+you at once, to ease your mind, that Jean will have three hundred a year
+to keep the pot boiling."</p>
+
+<p>He pooh-poohed their gratitude with the most genial air.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't mention it, my dear young people, don't mention it. It comes out
+of Andrew's share, so it's all right."</p>
+
+<p>"But I couldn't dream of robbing Andrew!" cried Jean warmly.</p>
+
+<p>"He spends his days in robbing our clients," chuckled the senior
+partner, "so you needn't <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>worry about him. Besides, he doesn't know how
+to spend money even when he has got it." He lowered his voice
+confidentially. "Andrew hasn't a spark of the sportsman in him; he's all
+very well as a partner&mdash;one wants 'em tough; but as a son&mdash;good Lord!"</p>
+
+<p>And then the good gentleman tactfully retired to the billiard-room,
+leaving behind him the two happiest people in London. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER XII</h3>
+
+<p>Naturally, Lucas stayed to dinner, and naturally also he and Jean were
+left in uninterrupted occupation of the private sitting-room, while her
+father and Frank smoked and talked together in a quiet corner of the
+hall. Mr. Walkingshaw was radiant with the reflection of the happiness
+he had brought about. He could do nothing but make little plans for
+introducing Lucas to his picture-buying acquaintances, select eligible
+districts of London for their residence, and jot down various articles
+of furniture or ornament that he could spare them from his own mansion.
+Frank seemed equally delighted, though his good spirits were
+occasionally interrupted by fits of reverie.</p>
+
+<p>"Somehow or other," said Mr. Walkingshaw, "I feel more and more like a
+friend of Jean and you, and less and less like your father. Odd thing,
+isn't it, Frank?"</p>
+
+<p>"A jolly fine thing," said Frank warmly. "By Jove, sir, I can't tell you
+how much I prefer it!" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p><p>"Do you really? Well, then, I won't worry about the feeling any more."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw had not given the impression that he was worrying about
+that or any other feeling, but one was bound to take his word for it.</p>
+
+<p>"I enjoy the sensation far more myself," he went on. "It produces a kind
+of mutual confidence and that sort of thing. I hardly feel inclined to
+explain the cause of this improvement yet, Frank; but you may take my
+word that there is nothing in the least discreditable about it. In fact,
+when one comes to think of it, there's nothing so very extraordinary
+either. It's a perfectly sound scientific idea, perfectly sound; so you
+can make your mind at ease too, Frank."</p>
+
+<p>As a matter of fact, Frank's mind had already wandered far afield from
+these interesting but slightly obscure speculations.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's all right, I assure you," he answered vaguely.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a grand thing to know that Jean's love affair has turned out so
+happily," his father continued. "I can't tell you what a satisfaction it
+is to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, isn't it?" Frank murmured from the clouds. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p><p>"I only wish I could feel as sure of Andrew falling on his feet."</p>
+
+<p>Frank's wits were wide awake now.</p>
+
+<p>"Andrew!" he exclaimed. "Good heavens, do you mean to say you don't
+think he has fallen on his feet?"</p>
+
+<p>His father shook his head dubiously.</p>
+
+<p>"But, my dear father, I thought you agreed with me&mdash;agreed with all of
+us, I mean&mdash;that Ellen's just the&mdash;well, the&mdash;er&mdash;the&mdash;er&mdash;the nicest
+girl in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, she's all that."</p>
+
+<p>"Then what on earth do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw leant confidentially over the arm of his easy-chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Between ourselves, Frank, I'm rather doubtful whether she thinks Andrew
+the nicest man in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but&mdash;surely she&mdash;er&mdash;I mean, they are engaged."</p>
+
+<p>"Frank, my boy, not a word of this to a soul&mdash;not even to Jean or Lucas.
+I may be wrong, and I don't want to make mischief; but I have a strong
+suspicion there's another fellow."</p>
+
+<p>"What kind of fellow?"</p>
+
+<p>"A rival." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p><p>"Good God!" cried Frank. "Who the devil is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, hush&mdash;not so violently, my dear fellow. It's pretty sickening, of
+course; but till you know who he is, you can't knock him down."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, tell me who he is."</p>
+
+<p>"That's just what I'd like to know myself. It's some one in Perthshire."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know?" demanded Frank.</p>
+
+<p>He controlled his voice, but in his eyes burned a light that boded ill
+for his brother's rival when he caught him.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you can judge for yourself how I know. Andrew noticed the change
+in Ellen's manner the first time he saw her after she'd been staying
+with us. The only fellow she met in Edinburgh was yourself, so it must
+be some one in Perthshire."</p>
+
+<p>The militant Highlander fell back in his chair with a gasp, and the
+light of battle died out of his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you agree with me?" asked his father.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;er&mdash;I don't know," he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw had grown none the less shrewd as his weight of years
+was lightened.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh?" he demanded quickly, "what do you know about it? Be perfectly
+frank with me." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p><p>"But why should you think that&mdash;er&mdash;I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me this&mdash;do you know of any one who's been paying attention to
+Ellen Berstoun?"</p>
+
+<p>Poor Frank's color grew deeper and deeper.</p>
+
+<p>"There&mdash;there was one fellow, I'm ashamed to say."</p>
+
+<p>"Ashamed? Why should you be ash&mdash;" Mr. Walkingshaw broke off suddenly
+and gazed at his son with very wide-open eyes. "Frank&mdash;it was yourself!"</p>
+
+<p>The treacherous brother hung his head. And then, in the depths of his
+penitence, he heard these extraordinary words&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, dear chap, this is almost too good to be true!"</p>
+
+<p>"Too <i>good</i>!" gasped Frank.</p>
+
+<p>"What did you do&mdash;kiss her?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no; not so bad as that!"</p>
+
+<p>"You let her know, though? There's no mistake about that, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I did."</p>
+
+<p>His father took his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"She is yours," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Mine?</i> But, my dear father, she is Andrew's!" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p><p>"She was; but he's such a perfect sumph, I'm thankful she's got quit of
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"What! Is it broken off?"</p>
+
+<p>"It will be."</p>
+
+<p>"An engagement?"</p>
+
+<p>"What's an engagement? Speaking as a lawyer of many years' standing, I
+may tell you candidly that engagements, and agreements, and bargains are
+simply devices for keeping rascals from swindling one another. If honest
+men agree, they don't need a stamped bit of paper; and if they disagree,
+where's the point in leashing them together, like a couple of growling
+dogs? And the case is a thousand times stronger when it comes to a man
+and a girl. I was only afraid I should lose a charming daughter-in-law,
+and now you've taken that weight off my mind. I can't tell you how happy
+I feel!"</p>
+
+<p>Frank's young face was grave and his candid eyes looked straight at his
+father.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here," he replied, "I'm going to do the straight thing by Andrew.
+I don't know that I've ever loved him as much as I ought, but that's all
+the more reason why I shouldn't chisel him now."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's your military idea of discipline and all the rest of it; but
+let me tell you, falling in love <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>is a different kind of thing from
+forming fours."</p>
+
+<p>For the first time the young soldier clearly disapproved of his father's
+rejuvenation.</p>
+
+<p>"Duty is duty," he persisted, "and I tell you honestly I'm not going to
+sneak in behind my brother's back."</p>
+
+<p>"Is Ellen to have nothing to say in the matter? Do you propose to marry
+her to the man she doesn't love, instead of the man she does, without so
+much as giving her the choice?"</p>
+
+<p>The soldier met this flank attack by a change of front.</p>
+
+<p>"But Andrew has the means to marry her, and I've not."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll give you the means," said his father.</p>
+
+<p>Frank began to realize that Duty was in a very tight corner.</p>
+
+<p>"But I haven't any grounds whatever for thinking that Ellen cares for
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"I have."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll have to convince <i>me</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it not clearly your duty to settle that point first?"</p>
+
+<p>Frank hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;perhaps it is."</p>
+
+<p>The crafty strategist smiled. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p><p>"We'll settle it!"</p>
+
+<p>"When?"</p>
+
+<p>"At once. Where's a time-table?"</p>
+
+<p>"But look here, my dear father, there's the question of honor to be
+settled after that."</p>
+
+<p>"After that&mdash;exactly; I'm with you all the way. But in the meanwhile,
+first get this into your head. An engagement is an affair of two hearts,
+not of two pockets or two heads. If the hearts are off, the bargain's
+off. That's the whole ethics of an engagement. And let me tell you I'm
+not without some experience."</p>
+
+<p>"Heriot!" exclaimed a familiar voice.</p>
+
+<p>The W.S. looked round with a start. There, through the middle of the
+hall, attired in a most becoming traveling coat of fur, advanced the
+sympathetic widow.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Madge!" cried her betrothed.</p>
+
+<p>Almost in the same instant his off eye signaled to his son a hurried but
+expressive warning. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3>
+
+<p>The hour was late, but in spite of Heriot's kindly suggestion that the
+rapture he anticipated from her conversation should be postponed till
+she had recovered from the fatigues of her journey, his fianc&eacute;e
+unselfishly preferred to recompense him immediately for his prolonged
+deprivation of her society. He acceded at once to her wishes, with the
+most amiable air imaginable.</p>
+
+<p>"And now, my dear Madge," said he, when they were seated in a secluded
+corner of the lounge, "tell me all your news. In the first place, how's
+my own precious?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am very well, thank you," replied the lady, a little coolly.</p>
+
+<p>"Delighted to hear it!"</p>
+
+<p>"You could, of course, have discovered it sooner by simply writing to
+inquire," she pointed out, with the same air.</p>
+
+<p>"But I did, my dear girl, I did."</p>
+
+<p>"Once." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p><p>"Only once, was it? Now, I could have sworn it was twice."</p>
+
+<p>"And did you think twice was often enough?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you see, Madge," he explained, "we got engaged in such a deuce of
+a hurry, and I had to rush off next morning, and so on. I didn't have
+time to ask you how often you wished me to write."</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't my last two unanswered letters give you any idea on the
+subject?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two letters, Madge? Now, do you know, I could have sworn it was only
+one."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him steadily.</p>
+
+<p>"Heriot, what is the meaning of your conduct?"</p>
+
+<p>"To what points in it do you refer, my dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"I may tell you I have heard from Charlie Munro."</p>
+
+<p>It was remarkable how quickly Mr. Walkingshaw had developed. That
+reputation he still clung to when he saw her last was no longer a brake
+upon his downward career.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor old Charlie!" he laughed. "By Jove, Madge, I jolly well hoisted
+him with his own thingamajig!"</p>
+
+<p>She regarded him stonily. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p><p>"And what of the business you went to see him about?"</p>
+
+<p>"Did I say I was going to see him on business?"</p>
+
+<p>"You did!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, no, my dear girl; you must have misunderstood me. Of course, it
+was natural enough; we were both rather carried away by our feelings
+that night, weren't we, Madge?"</p>
+
+<p>He took her hand and pressed it affectionately, but it made no response.</p>
+
+<p>"Why didn't you come to see me when you were in Edinburgh?" she
+inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"I ought to have," he answered, with an expression of the sincerest
+apology. "Yes, I suppose I ought to have."</p>
+
+<p>"You suppose! Didn't it occur to you at the time?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, it occurred. In fact, my difficulty was to keep myself away
+from you."</p>
+
+<p>"May I ask why it was necessary to make the effort?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the fact is," he explained, "I had a little scheme for Jean which
+I wanted to keep a secret&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And you couldn't trust me!" she interrupted. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p><p>"A charming woman and a secret?" he smiled archly. "My dear girl, your
+rosy lips would have gone chatter, chatter, chatter all over the town!"</p>
+
+<p>She snatched her hand away with some degree of violence.</p>
+
+<p>"You talk like an idiot!" she replied.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Madge! This is your own Heriot?"</p>
+
+<p>She took out a little handkerchief of lace and gently touched first one
+eye and then the other.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe you love me!"</p>
+
+<p>Heriot's kind heart was sincerely moved.</p>
+
+<p>"I adore you!"</p>
+
+<p>A faint smile at last appeared upon her face.</p>
+
+<p>"How can you possibly when you go on like this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Like what?"</p>
+
+<p>The smile died away and a quick frown took its place.</p>
+
+<p>"Heriot! Do you mean to say you think your behavior has looked like
+loving me?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's the heart that counts, Madge, not the behavior," he assured her.</p>
+
+<p>She sat up in her chair with an air of decision.</p>
+
+<p>"The behavior does count; so please don't talk as though you thought I
+was a fool. For your own sake, for the sake of your reputation and your
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>family, you've got to come back with me to-morrow!"</p>
+
+<p>He seized her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Madge, that's just what I meant to do."</p>
+
+<p>He rose and bent over her with every symptom of affection.</p>
+
+<p>"And now you must really go to bed. You're looking tired; really you
+are. It quite distresses me."</p>
+
+<p>She still kept her seat.</p>
+
+<p>"You promise to come with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I assure you I've got to come."</p>
+
+<p>"I must have your promise."</p>
+
+<p>He looked hurt.</p>
+
+<p>"Hang it, Madge, can't you trust me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I cannot. Give me your promise."</p>
+
+<p>His air of affection decidedly diminished, but he gave the pledge&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I promise to go north to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"I can really trust you?"</p>
+
+<p>He began to frown.</p>
+
+<p>"Implicitly."</p>
+
+<p>She rose at last, and they went together towards the lift.</p>
+
+<p>"When do you breakfast?" she asked. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p><p>He answered somewhat stiffly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"There is no necessity of starting before two o'clock. Breakfast when
+you like."</p>
+
+<p>"We shall say ten o'clock, then."</p>
+
+<p>"That is fairly late, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"You forget that I have had a tiring day, and perhaps you hardly realize
+whose conduct has tired me. Good-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night," he replied in an unimpassioned voice.</p>
+
+<p>As the widow ascended she told herself that she had adopted entirely the
+right attitude. She might relent to-morrow, but till then it was well he
+should be deprived of the sunshine of her smiles.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning at the hour of 10:15 she stepped out of the lift to find
+Jean waiting in the hall. She greeted Mrs. Dunbar with a markedly
+composed air.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you won't mind breakfasting alone?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>It was evident that the widow did mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to say your father has actually breakfasted without me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Unfortunately, he had to."</p>
+
+<p>"Had to!" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p><p>"He and Frank found they must catch the ten o'clock train."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dunbar gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"He&mdash;has gone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"But he promised to go with me!"</p>
+
+<p>"I understood him to say," said Jean quietly, "that he had merely
+promised to go north."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, indeed! Then he has run away?"</p>
+
+<p>"From whom?" asked Jean demurely.</p>
+
+<p>The widow bit her lip.</p>
+
+<p>"I consider his conduct simply disgraceful&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Jean interrupted her quickly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I had rather not discuss my father's conduct. Don't let me keep you
+from breakfast."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dunbar remained standing in silence, a magnificent statue of
+displeasure. In a moment she inquired&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"And why are you waiting here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Father thought you might like my company on the journey."</p>
+
+<p>"How very thoughtful of him! Then you go at two?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>The widow gazed at her intently. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p><p>"I can hardly believe this of Heriot. Is all this his own idea?"</p>
+
+<p>Jean flushed slightly, but answered as demurely as ever&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It is his wish."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I see!" exclaimed Mrs. Dunbar bitterly, "I thought there was a
+woman's hand in this affair."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean another woman's hand?"</p>
+
+<p>The injured lady began uneasily to realize that there was a fresh factor
+in the situation. But who would have dreamt of little Jean Walkingshaw
+being dangerous? As Madge traveled north that afternoon,
+uncompromisingly secluded behind a lady's journal, she could not get out
+of her head the uncomfortable fancy that her trim, fair-haired escort
+sat like a protecting deity (heathen and sinister) between Heriot and
+all who desired, even with the most loving purpose, to chasten his
+faults and moderate the exuberance of his too virile spirit.</p>
+
+<p>Jean herself was warmly conscious that some such duty was surely laid
+upon her. With what less reward could she repay all he had done for her?
+It will be discovered, however, from the succeeding instalment of facts,
+that though the guardian <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>angel of Heriot Walkingshaw might go the pace
+with him thus far, it would probably have been beyond the power even of
+a genuinely celestial spirit to keep at his shoulder when he spurted. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 234-236]</a></span></p><h2>PART IV</h2>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER I</h3>
+
+<p>Archibald Berstoun of that ilk ("of y' ilk" was the form that most
+delicately tickled his palate) still dwelt in the fortalice built by his
+ancestors at a time when to the average Scot the national tartan
+suggested but an alien barbarian who stole his cattle; and the national
+bagpipe, the national heather, and the national whisky were merely the
+noise the brute made, the cover that preserved him from the gallows, and
+the stuff that gave you your one chance of catching him asleep.</p>
+
+<p>(A few reflections on the whirligig of time were here inserted, but have
+since been omitted, as they were found to occur in a modified form
+elsewhere.)</p>
+
+<p>The castle stood in the lowland part of Perthshire, and was erected by
+the second of that ilk as a tribute to the dexterity with which his
+highland neighbors had removed the effects and cut the throat of the
+first. It was a sober and simple building, steep-roofed and battlemented
+at the top, turreted at the angles, and pierced with a few narrow
+windows so irregularly scattered about its gray <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>harled walls as to
+suggest that no two rooms could possibly be on the same level.
+Naturally, the architectural genius who illumines the quiet annals of
+every landed family had knocked out a number of French windows into the
+lawn and constructed the first story of a Chinese pagoda, in which he
+proposed to store Etruscan curios with an aviary above; but his
+descendants had fortunately lacked the funds to complete these
+improvements. In fact, the stump of the pagoda was now so entirely
+overgrown with ivy that it had become the traditional fortress of
+Agricola.</p>
+
+<p>This ancient habitation of a hard-fighting race was framed on two sides
+by a garden that looked as old as the walls which towered above it, and
+was well-nigh as simple and sober. Dark clipped yews, and smooth green
+grass, and graceful old-world flowers were its chief and sufficient
+ingredients. The genius who designed the pagoda had not yet turned his
+attention to the garden when Providence checked his career.</p>
+
+<p>A wood of black Scotch firs stretched for a long way beyond this
+pleasant garden, and struck a stern northern note befitting the gnarled
+battlements; while, nearer the house, gray beech stems towered out of
+the brown dead leaves below up <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>to the brown live buds a hundred feet
+nearer the clouds.</p>
+
+<p>On the remaining two sides of the castle you were not supposed to bestow
+attention, since after the old custom the home farm approached more
+closely than is fashionable nowadays; though to the curious they were
+the sides best worth attention, owing to the cultured pagoda-builder
+having deemed it beneath his dignity to molest them.</p>
+
+<p>One afternoon in early spring Ellen Berstoun walked slowly down a
+sheltered garden path. She had been singularly moody of late&mdash;so
+distressed, indeed, and so little like a lucky girl whose wedding might
+be fixed for any day she chose to name, that her five unmarried sisters
+held many private debates on the causes of her conduct. The three next
+to her in years expressed grave apprehensions lest the very fairly
+creditable marriage arranged for her should after all fall through.
+Ellen was not treating Andrew well, they complained; while on the other
+hand, the two youngest, being as yet irresponsibly romantic, declared
+vigorously that they had sooner dear Ellen remained single to the end of
+her days than introduced such a long-lipped, fat-cheeked brother-in-law
+into the family.</p>
+
+<p>It was a part of poor Ellen's burden that she was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>acutely conscious of
+the duty which her parents and all her aunts assured her she owed these
+sisters. But, on the other hand, to share the remainder of her existence
+with Andrew Walkingshaw&mdash;There rose vividly a picture of that most
+respectable of partners, and the emotion attendant on this vision drew
+from her a sigh that ought to have convinced the most skeptical she was
+very hard hit indeed.</p>
+
+<p>It was at this moment that she spied a lad approaching from the house.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Jimmy?" she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>With an appearance of some caution, he handed her a note.</p>
+
+<p>"It was to be gi'en to yoursel' privately, miss," he said mysteriously,
+and turned to go.</p>
+
+<p>"Is there no answer?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"He said I wasna to bide for an answer."</p>
+
+<p>He hurried off as though his directions had been peremptory, and Ellen
+opened the letter. It was written upon the notepaper of a local inn, and
+if she was surprised to discover the writer, she was still more
+astonished by the contents.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Ellen</span>," it ran, "I should take it as a very great favor
+indeed if you would come immediately on receiving this and meet me
+at the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>farther end of the wood below your garden. Follow the path,
+and you will find me waiting for you. The matter is of such
+importance that I make no apologies for suggesting this romantic
+proceeding!&mdash;With love, yours affectionately,</p>
+
+<p><span class="right3"><span class="smcap">"J. Heriot Walkingshaw</span>.</span></p>
+
+<p>"P.S.&mdash;Don't say a word to one of your family. Secrecy is
+absolutely essential." </p></div>
+
+<p>Ellen stood lost in perplexity. Rumors had reached her of Mr.
+Walkingshaw's recent eccentricity. The request was entirely out of
+keeping with all her previous acquaintance with him; that point of
+exclamation after "romantic proceeding" struck her as uncomfortably
+dissimilar to his usual methods of composition. Ought she not to consult
+one of her parents, or at least a sister? And yet the postscript was too
+explicit to be neglected.</p>
+
+<p>For a few minutes she hesitated. Then she made up her mind; her warm
+heart could not bear to disappoint anybody; and besides, Mr. Heriot
+Walkingshaw, however odd his conduct might have been lately was such a
+pompously respectable&mdash;indeed venerable&mdash;old gentleman that a maiden
+might surely trust herself with him alone, even in a grove of trees. And
+so, in a furtive and backward-glancing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>manner, she stole into the wood.
+It was an unusual way of approaching one's father's man of business and
+one's financ&eacute;'s parent, but Ellen consoled herself by the reflection
+that an experienced Writer to the Signet should best know how these
+things were done.</p>
+
+<p>She hurried down a narrow, winding glade, lined by countless slender
+columns supporting far overhead a roof of millions of dark green needles
+swaying and murmuring in the breeze. Suddenly sunshine and green fields
+filled the opening of the glade, and as suddenly a tall gentleman
+stepped from behind a tree and politely raised a fashionable felt hat.
+In all essential features he was the image of Mr. Heriot Walkingshaw,
+only that he was so very much younger.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my dear Ellen!" he exclaimed heartily.</p>
+
+<p>She stared at him, too amazed for speech.</p>
+
+<p>"Am I really so changed already?" he inquired with a smile. "That shows
+the beneficial effect of seeing you."</p>
+
+<p>Even though his manner had altered as much as his appearance, she found
+the change so agreeable that she overlooked its strangeness. She smiled
+back at him.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad to see you looking so well," she said. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p><p>He beamed upon her in what he sincerely meant for a paternal manner.</p>
+
+<p>"You, my dear child, look ripping! My hat, you are pretty! Ellen dear,
+my only wish is to make you as happy as you are bonny."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him searchingly, and her voice had a note of guarded
+alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>His air became sympathy itself.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear girl, I have been greatly distressed to hear that all has not
+been going smoothly with you and Andrew."</p>
+
+<p>She gave him a quick glance and then looked away.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed!" she answered a little coldly. "Who told you that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can read it in my son's altered health."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him in surprise, but without anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know there was anything the matter with him."</p>
+
+<p>"He had to hasten up to London for a change of air."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope it did him good," she said indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear girl, have you no wish to hurry to his bedside?" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p><p>"I'm afraid I shouldn't be any good if I did."</p>
+
+<p>"And you wouldn't find him in bed, either," smiled Mr. Walkingshaw, with
+a change of manner. "No, no, Ellen; you needn't pretend you're in love
+with Andrew if that's all the concern you feel. And I may tell you at
+once that he's as tough as ever, and as great a fool. The fellow is
+totally unworthy of you, so don't you worry your head about him any
+longer."</p>
+
+<p>He bent over her confidentially.</p>
+
+<p>"Supposing some one were to cut him out, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Some one&mdash;" she stammered. "Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"Guess!" he smiled.</p>
+
+<p>She did guess; and it was a shocking surmise.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I have no idea," she fibbed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, come now, hang it, look me in the eye and repeat that!"</p>
+
+<p>For an instant, she looked into that roguish eye, and her worst
+suspicions were confirmed.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Walkingshaw," she answered, with trembling candor, "I feel very
+much honored, but really I must ask you not to&mdash;not to say anything
+more. Our ages&mdash;oh, everything&mdash;I couldn't! I had better go back now."</p>
+
+<p>The philanthropic father gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Ellen! stop! My dear child, I don't mean <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>myself! Good heavens, I am
+far too old for a young girl like you!"</p>
+
+<p>Yet it was at that moment that he suddenly realized he wasn't.</p>
+
+<p>"Then&mdash;then what&mdash;" she began, and stopped, overwhelmed with confusion.</p>
+
+<p>Hurriedly he endeavored to put things once more upon a paternal footing.</p>
+
+<p>"My fault, my dear Ellen, my fault entirely. Naturally you
+thought&mdash;er&mdash;yes, yes, it was quite natural. I&mdash;I put it badly. I didn't
+think what I was saying. The fact is, I've been"&mdash;a brilliant
+inspiration suddenly illumined the chaos of his mind&mdash;"I've been so
+troubled about poor Frank!"</p>
+
+<p>Her expression altogether changed.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>His mind calmed down. Composing his countenance, he shook his head
+sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think he'll get over it."</p>
+
+<p>She laid her hand upon his arm with a quick, involuntary gesture.</p>
+
+<p>"But what has happened? Tell me!"</p>
+
+<p>The wisdom of age and the shrewdness of youth twinkled together in Mr.
+Walkingshaw's eye, but he managed to retain a decorously solemn air. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p><p>"You are really concerned this time?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course! I&mdash;I mean, naturally."</p>
+
+<p>He drew her hand through his arm and led her along the fringe of the
+pine woods.</p>
+
+<p>"Come and see," he said gently. "Poor boy he's had a bad fall."</p>
+
+<p>"What! Is he here&mdash;with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;yes," he answered, with an absent and melancholy air.</p>
+
+<p>He led her a few paces into the trees, and there, seated on a fallen
+trunk, they saw the victim of fate smoking a cigarette with a meditative
+air. He sprang to his feet with a light in his eye that might have been
+the result of some acute disaster, but scarcely looked like it.</p>
+
+<p>"Frank, my boy," said his father, "I have just been explaining to Ellen
+that you have fallen"&mdash;he turned to the girl with a merry air&mdash;"in
+love!" he chuckled, and the next moment they were listening to his
+flying footsteps and looking at one another. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER II</h3>
+
+<p>High overhead the pines murmured gently, and Mr. Walkingshaw, strolling
+through the quiet colonnades below in solitude and shade, heard the
+strangest messages whispered down by those riotous tree-tops. He was no
+longer even middle-aged! Or at least his heart certainly was not. It
+seemed to keep a decade or so younger than his body, and Heaven knew
+that was growing younger fast enough! At this rate how much longer could
+he play the beneficent parent? Good Lord, he had jolly nearly fallen
+head over ears in love with sweet Ellen Berstoun in the course of five
+minutes' conversation! She wasn't a day too old for Heriot W. That's to
+say, he could do with a lassie of that age fine, and, by Gad, he
+shouldn't wonder but Ellen mightn't have rather cottoned to him if her
+heart had been free. She looked deuced coy when she thought he was
+proposing. Yes, a girl like Ellen was the ticket for him. But in that
+case, what about Madge?</p>
+
+<p>For several minutes Mr. Walkingshaw stood <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>very solemnly studying the
+bark on an entirely ordinary pine, concluding his scrutiny by hitting it
+a sharp smack with his walking-stick and turning away from the sight of
+it with apparent distaste. However, a minute or two later he seemed to
+find one he liked better, for he placed his back against it, removed his
+hat, and gazed upwards at the softly murmuring branches. Once more their
+whispers made him smile. Sufficient for the day were the difficulties
+thereof! That was the way to look at it. Meanwhile, the spring was
+young, and the little flowers in the wood were young, and the blue sky
+that showed in peeps through the swinging tree-tops looked as young as
+any of them, and certainly it was a young and lusty breeze that swayed
+them. By Jingo, what excellent company they all were for him!</p>
+
+<p>And then he heard another murmuring sound, coming this time from behind
+him. He held his breath and caught the words&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Ellen! I love you&mdash;I love you!"</p>
+
+<p>He peeped round the tree, and for an instant saw them. A most gratifying
+tribute to his diplomacy&mdash;but devilish disturbing to a young fellow
+without a girl! Hurriedly he snapped a twig; he snapped another; he
+broke a branch; he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>whistled, he coughed, he shouted. And then they
+looked up, vaguely surprised to find there was another person in the
+world.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Frank," said his father, as they walked back together towards
+their inn, "are you not feeling happy now, my boy, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Happy!" exclaimed Frank. "I'm stupefied with happiness!"</p>
+
+<p>As Heriot Walkingshaw strode between the spring breeze and the murmuring
+pines, his son's arm through his, listening to his gratitude and Ellen's
+praises, he too felt happier than ever before in his life. What a lot of
+pleasure he had learned how to give. And the way to give it was so
+simple once you found it out. Apparently you had merely to get in
+sympathy with people, and then do the things which naturally, under
+those circumstances, you would both like to be done. There was really
+nothing in it at all; still, it was jolly well worth doing.</p>
+
+<p>Only as they neared the inn did a qualm begin to trouble Frank.</p>
+
+<p>"It's deuced rough luck on Andrew, losing that girl," he said suddenly.
+"Hang it, it would kill <i>me</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's only losing his money that'll ever hurt <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>Andrew," replied his
+father cheerfully. "Don't you worry about what he'll say."</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, Mr. Walkingshaw forgot that the provision for this happy
+marriage was, in fact, coming indirectly from Andrew's pocket. Even the
+youngest of us cannot foresee everything, or Heriot would not have been
+humming "Gin a laddie kiss a lassie," quite so lightheartedly.</p>
+
+<p>"I must say I funk having it out with him," remarked Frank.</p>
+
+<p>"Just you leave it all to me. I'm a match for Andrew any day."</p>
+
+<p>It would have been well if Mr. Walkingshaw had "touched wood" as he made
+this vaunt; but at that moment his confidence was so serene that he felt
+master of any emergency conceivable by man.</p>
+
+<p>"Andrew's not the mate for Ellen," he said presently. "The young are for
+each other, Frank; that's the law of nature."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled to himself.</p>
+
+<p>"I learnt that this afternoon. By Jove, what a pretty girl Ellen is!"</p>
+
+<p>And then again his young heart remembered the sympathetic widow, and he
+stopped smiling. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER III</h3>
+
+<p>The backbone of our country is that band of civic heroes who, when
+turmoil rages and disaster threatens, are the last men to desert the
+desk. In this glorious company Andrew Walkingshaw was numbered. His
+father might tear up and down the country like a disreputable whirlwind,
+his widowed relative fume and plot, his sister disgrace the family by an
+unsuitable engagement, his betrothed leave his affectionate letters
+unanswered, his own soul writhe in decorous anguish at these calamities,
+but Casabianca himself was not more faithful to his post than he. It is
+true, indeed, that he had once tried the alternative policy and chased
+that cyclone, but he had taken to heart the lesson, and thenceforth
+closed his ears to disquieting rumors, his eyes to distressing symptoms,
+and went about his work, if possible, more conscientiously than ever.
+That was the proper way to get through business&mdash;conscientiously. He was
+sickened with the people (clients of some eminence, but evidently with a
+screw loose) <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>who kept deferring their more important concerns till the
+senior partner returned with his infernal headlong methods. Let them
+wait if they liked! Let them take their business elsewhere if they were
+such fools! Deliberately and calmly <i>he</i> had washed his hands of his
+senior partner. That was the end of him so far as he was concerned, said
+Andrew to himself. But alas! you may wash your hands of a tornado, but
+supposing it retorts by blowing down your house?</p>
+
+<p>It was about nine in the evening, and he sat by himself, severely
+scrutinizing the pleadings drawn up by his clerk for a forthcoming case,
+connected with so large a sum of money that it was a pleasure merely to
+read the imposing figures. The ladies were upstairs in the drawing-room.
+So long as Mrs. Dunbar was among them, he was not likely to show his
+face <i>there</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened, and he turned, frowning at the interruption, and then
+sprang up with a troubled eye. It was his father certainly; but what a
+remarkable change since he had seen him last! For the first time Andrew
+realized the full enormity of his conduct in growing younger. His very
+appearance had become a crying scandal. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p><p>"Sweating away at your old papers?" inquired Heriot pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew stiffly resumed his seat.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am busy," he replied, and took up the pleadings again.</p>
+
+<p>But his father ignored the hint. Straddling comfortably before the fire,
+he remarked&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Frank and I have been up to Perthshire."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew looked up quickly, but merely answered&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, indeed?"</p>
+
+<p>"We've been seeing Ellen."</p>
+
+<p>"What about?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw threw himself into a chair.</p>
+
+<p>"My boy," said he, with the air of friendly commiseration which he felt
+that the occasion undoubtedly demanded, "I find I was right about your
+rival."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew remained calm, though not quite so calm as before.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean there's some one else after her?"</p>
+
+<p>"He's got her."</p>
+
+<p>The calm departed.</p>
+
+<p>"Got! What the deuce d'ye mean?" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p><p>"She has chosen another, Andrew."</p>
+
+<p>"Chosen! But she's no choice left her. She's engaged to me."</p>
+
+<p>"She was engaged to you. She's now engaged to him."</p>
+
+<p>"To <i>him</i>? Who the dev&mdash;er&mdash;what are you driving at? Who's the man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Frank."</p>
+
+<p>"Frank!"</p>
+
+<p>Andrew stared at his father incredulously.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe a word of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you may ask Frank if you like; but I assure you you can take my
+word for it."</p>
+
+<p>It was characteristic of Andrew's robust mind that, instead of wasting
+time in noisy vaporings and sentimental sorrow, it seized at once the
+weak point in the case.</p>
+
+<p>"But he can't afford to marry."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'll see to that."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>You'll</i> see!" shouted Andrew. "Do you mean to say <i>you've</i> had a
+finger in the pie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Four fingers and a thumb," smiled his parent.</p>
+
+<p>Once more Andrew, without waste of words in expostulation or commentary,
+summarized the situation in a sentence&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"This is fair damnable!" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p><p>"Come, come, my dear fellow," said Mr. Walkingshaw soothingly. "I owe
+you an explanation, of course, but when you've heard it, I know you'll
+agree I've done the right thing."</p>
+
+<p>"An explanation!" exclaimed Andrew sardonically. "Go on, let's hear it."</p>
+
+<p>"I can give you the gist of it in a sentence: she loves Frank, and she
+doesn't love you. Now, in that case, which of you ought she to marry?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's nothing to do with it&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What! love's nothing to do with marriage?"</p>
+
+<p>"When a woman's once engaged, she's got to implement her promise."</p>
+
+<p>"Whether it makes her happy or miserable?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who was miserable, I'd like to know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ellen."</p>
+
+<p>"It's the first I've heard of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to say you couldn't see it for yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I could not; and even if she was, there's not the shadow of an
+excuse for your conduct. You're just making a mess of everything you
+meddle with. Getting me jilted like this! What do you suppose people
+will say? What'll they be thinking of me? Oh, good Lord!"</p>
+
+<p>The unhappy young man brooded somberly. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>Mr. Walkingshaw lit a cigar,
+and then settled himself down to remove by gentle argument the cloud
+that temporarily obscured his son's serenity.</p>
+
+<p>"Just look at the thing for a moment in a quiet and reasonable light,
+Andrew. Happiness, as you are well aware, is the chief aim of humanity.
+Damn it, our religion teaches us that&mdash;or practically that. A kind of
+warm and amiable gleefulness&mdash;that's the ideal. Now, how can a young
+girl like Ellen be happy or gleeful married to a sober old codger like
+you, eh? Man, the thing's clean impossible. She's no more suited to you
+than a lace cover to a coal-scuttle. Well, then what's the obvious thing
+to do? Hand her over to a brisk young fellow who can do her justice, of
+course. Besides, just think of your own brother pining away in the&mdash;what
+do they call it?&mdash;torrid zone, all for love of a girl who's pining away
+for love of him. The thing's totally illogical. A society of hedgehogs
+would have more sense than to allow an arrangement like that. You see my
+point now, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've heard you say with your own lips," retorted Andrew, "that all a
+girl required was a comfortable home and a husband who knew his own
+mind." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p><p>"But you must remember," explained his father, "I was an old fool then."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew sprang to his feet with a wry and bitter face.</p>
+
+<p>"You certainly haven't the qualities of age now. I never heard such
+daft-like rubbish in my life. For Heaven's sake, just try to use any
+common sense you've got left. Frank will never have enough money to keep
+her properly."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but naturally I mean to alter my arrangements."</p>
+
+<p>Gradually the full possibilities of the situation were revealing
+themselves to the well-regulated mind of the junior partner.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean to change your will?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do."</p>
+
+<p>Yet another horrid possibility showed its head.</p>
+
+<p>"And are you going to alter Jean's share too, so that this precious
+Vernon fellow may have something to squander?"</p>
+
+<p>"Something respectable to live on," corrected his parent. "You mustn't
+starve art, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew stared at him in silence, and when he spoke, it was with the air
+of a much-wronged worm which has deliberately resolved to turn at last.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p><p>"I'm not wanting any of your Ellen Berstouns. If she's played this trick
+on me, that's enough of her. But I tell you plainly I'm not going to let
+you rob me to keep a pack of worthless painters and people out of the
+gutter, without taking some steps. I warn you of that."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Andrew," said his father reproachfully, "that's hardly the
+attitude of a professing Christian. Just think, now; is it? You'll
+easily find a decent, quiet woman with a bit of money and no objection
+to hearing every day for an hour or two how you've been worried by your
+clients and swindled by your father, and I do honestly believe you'll
+get as near happiness as you're capable of. That's common sense, now;
+isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>The slamming of the door answered him.</p>
+
+<p>"What a sulky fellow he is!" said Heriot to himself.</p>
+
+<p>Yet so conscious was he of the rectitude of his intentions, and so
+confiding had his disposition grown, that it never crossed his mind to
+beware of an infuriated lawyer. Besides, when Andrew had slept over it,
+he would surely realize how unanswerable were his father's arguments.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll see the old stick-in-the-mud dancing at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>Frank's wedding!"
+thought he. "There's no vice in Andrew; only a bit of obstinacy. It's
+all bark and no bite with him."</p>
+
+<p>With these amiable reflections he speedily consoled himself for the
+discomfort of any little temporary friction. And then the door opened
+gently. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+
+<p>"I heard you had come back again," said Mrs. Dunbar.</p>
+
+<p>She closed the door as gently as she had opened it. The action
+pathetically expressed the quiet sorrow of a much-wronged woman's heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Heriot gallantly, "I'm back again to Scotland, home and
+beauty. Ha, ha! Now that was quite pretty, wasn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>But her black eyes declined to sparkle, as she glided silently to a
+chair. Out of the corner of his own eye her lover looked at her
+critically.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm delighted to see you again, Madge," he went on; but his words had a
+hollow ring, and his eye continued to express more doubt than passion.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you no apology to offer me?" she inquired, with the same ominous
+calm.</p>
+
+<p>"For what, my dear lady?"</p>
+
+<p>She started a little and glanced at him apprehensively. "My dear lady"
+hardly indicated love's divinest frenzy.</p>
+
+<p>"For treating me shamefully!" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p><p>"This is strong language," he smiled indulgently. "Tell me now, I say,
+just tell me what I've done."</p>
+
+<p>Thus invited, the lady described his conduct in leaving her alone and
+unprotected in a London hotel, to the neglect of his affectionate
+assurances and the shame and confusion of herself, in language which did
+no more than justice to the theme.</p>
+
+<p>"But I left Jean to look after you," he protested.</p>
+
+<p>"When I want your daughter to look after me I shall ask you for her
+assistance," she replied tartly. "You broke your word to me, and you
+can't deny it."</p>
+
+<p>"I do deny it," he replied, with dignity. "I told you I should travel
+north&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" she interrupted, with scathing contempt, "you were very
+straightforward and gentlemanly, I know!"</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her ever more critically. A recollection of Ellen and the
+pine-wood returned forcibly.</p>
+
+<p>"Put it as you will," he replied philosophically, and turned towards the
+fire.</p>
+
+<p>She watched him jealously.</p>
+
+<p>"But why did you run away?" she persisted. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>"Where have you been since?
+Heriot, I insist upon knowing that&mdash;I insist!"</p>
+
+<p>She rose and came towards him. He took her hand and pressed it gently.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall tell you all," he said, as he led her back to her chair and
+drew another towards it. When they were about three feet apart he sat
+down himself and bent confidentially towards her. Yet he did not attempt
+to bridge entirely the intervening space.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been up to Perthshire," he began, "assisting dear Ellen Berstoun
+to break off her engagement with Andrew."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dunbar sat up with a much more alert expression.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad to hear it," she said, with decision.</p>
+
+<p>"I discovered that Frank and she loved one another. I am very glad to
+say he is now engaged to her instead."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Do tell me what Andrew said!"</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid he is somewhat unreasonably annoyed."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled more brightly still. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p><p>"How very good for him! Really, Heriot, you have done a very sensible
+thing indeed."</p>
+
+<p>Heriot smiled back.</p>
+
+<p>"It seemed to me," said he, "that there was really too much disparity in
+years. The young should marry the young, Madge."</p>
+
+<p>"I agree with you entirely."</p>
+
+<p>It was his smile that now seemed to indicate an increasing satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"You agree also that under those circumstances it is no longer the duty
+of two people to marry, even if they have unfortunately become engaged?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think it would only lead to wretchedness if they did. Honestly, I
+don't feel in the least sorry for Andrew. In fact, I thoroughly agree
+that people ought to have their engagements broken off for them if they
+haven't the sense to see they are unsuitable for themselves."</p>
+
+<p>Heriot received this assurance with evident pleasure. His manner grew
+more confidential still.</p>
+
+<p>"Madge," he said, "I think it is time I made you a very serious
+confession."</p>
+
+<p>Her smile departed.</p>
+
+<p>"You may have noticed," he continued, "a certain bloom, so to speak,
+upon me, a sort of freshness, and so on. Madge, it is the bloom of
+youth." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p><p>She grew uneasy.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, really?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is a literal, physical fact. I am rapidly approaching thirty."</p>
+
+<p>She moved into the farthest corner of her chair, but made no other
+comment.</p>
+
+<p>"You will thus see that it is merely a question of time before there
+will be an even greater disparity of years between you and me than
+between Ellen and Andrew."</p>
+
+<p>Her expression changed entirely.</p>
+
+<p>"Heriot!" she exclaimed indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Madge, I grieve deeply to resign the hopes of happiness I had
+formed on a life spent in your society, but alas! I must. Your adult
+charms cannot be thrown away upon an unappreciative youth; it would be a
+tragedy."</p>
+
+<p>"You are many years older than I!"</p>
+
+<p>"I was a short time ago, but to-day we are roughly speaking,
+twins&mdash;though with this difference, that as I am looking forward to a
+strenuous youth, and you to a handsome old age, naturally I feel a
+chicken compared with you. But then think of the next year or two, when
+I shall perhaps be playing football, and you will find it no longer
+possible to keep your gray hairs so <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>artistically brushed beneath your
+black tresses: think of that, Madge!"</p>
+
+<p>"Are you out of your mind?" she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"On the contrary, I have never been clearer-headed in my life."</p>
+
+<p>"Then," she exclaimed wrathfully, "you are merely inventing a ridiculous
+fable to excuse your shuffling out of your engagement!"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear lady," he replied pacifically, "shall I jump over this chair to
+convince you?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Nothing</i> would convince me."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," he said, with a friendly smile, "I see that you want to have me
+whether I'm a suitable mate or not, whether my feelings have changed&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I certainly do not!" she interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>"Then in that case shall we call it off?"</p>
+
+<p>He rose and picked up an evening paper.</p>
+
+<p>She tried the resource of tears. The spectacle of a handsome woman
+weeping had brought him temporarily to his senses once before. But this
+time, though his manner was as kind as any widow could desire, his words
+brought the unfortunate lady no more consolation than his conduct.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Madge, just look at the thing sensibly. Surely you are old
+enough by this time to take a practical view of what after all is a very
+simple <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>situation. You laid down the law yourself not five minutes ago,
+and laid it down very justly. If two people are unsuitably mated, the
+engagement should be broken off. Very well; just try to realize for a
+moment what it means to marry a man who is getting fuller and fuller of
+beans all the time&mdash;at your age, mark you. The fact is, we are just like
+two trains rushing in opposite directions. For a moment we may be side
+by side, and then&mdash;whit!&mdash;we have passed each other and are getting a
+couple of miles farther apart every minute."</p>
+
+<p>Even this graphic allegory failed to dry her tears.</p>
+
+<p>"You are deserting me&mdash;you are breaking my heart!" she wailed.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, hush," he answered soothingly; "on the contrary, I am sparing
+you&mdash;sparing you no end of anxiety."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him like a tragedy queen.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you no thought of how my reputation will suffer, Heriot?"</p>
+
+<p>"How can it suffer? Nobody knows we've been engaged."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you suppose they haven't guessed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not from anything I've said or done, I can assure you." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p><p>She sprang up indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you no sense of honor?"</p>
+
+<p>"Look here," he answered, with his most ingratiating manner, "I'll be a
+son to you, Madge&mdash;an affectionate, dutiful&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You coward!" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>Heriot found himself alone in his library with his engagement
+satisfactorily ended. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER V</h3>
+
+<p>Andrew had retired to the dining-room. Once the day's eating was over,
+this apartment, with its vast space of dignified gloom, its black marble
+mantelpiece, and the cloth of indigo plushette which now covered the
+table, made the most congenial refuge conceivable. His thoughts were in
+exact harmony with everything there, from the Venetian blinds to the
+portrait of his great-grandmother. The only discordant element was the
+presence of a few errant bread-crumbs, and happily they were under the
+table.</p>
+
+<p>It was to this lair that he was tracked by Madge Dunbar. She never
+paused to ask if she disturbed him, or gave him any chance of protest,
+but advancing straight up to him, exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Your father is off his head!"</p>
+
+<p>The junior partner eyed her warily, divided between suspicion and a glow
+of sympathy with her opinion.</p>
+
+<p>"What has he done now?" he inquired gloomily. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p><p>"He has treated me exactly as he has treated you!"</p>
+
+<p>The sympathy deepened; the suspicion began to ooze away; but all he
+remarked was, "Oh?"</p>
+
+<p>He was indeed a magnificently cautious man.</p>
+
+<p>"What can we do?" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew scrutinized her carefully. She might be fibbing; she might be up
+to some of her tricks again; this might even be a move arranged with his
+father. One could not be too prudent.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you propose to do?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Bring him to his senses if it's possible: if not&mdash;Oh, Andrew, his
+conduct is infamous! I don't care what we do to punish&mdash;I mean to
+restrain him."</p>
+
+<p>At last, after many days' abstinence, the junior partner smiled. It was
+not a very wide, nor in the least a merry smile; his cheeks bulged only
+slightly under its gentle pressure, and the satisfaction which smiles
+traditionally notify seemed savored with a squeeze or two of lemon. But
+it marked the beginning of a new coalition, an ominous disturbance of
+the balance of power.</p>
+
+<p>"That is exactly the point I have under consideration myself," he said.
+"The difficulty is, how is it to be managed?" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p><p>She seated herself within twelve feet of him, and yet he did not shrink
+from her now with modest mistrust.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me perfectly obvious what we should do. Just offer him an
+alternative."</p>
+
+<p>"What alternative?" asked Andrew.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Mr. Walkingshaw was spending one of the happiest evenings he
+remembered. There was indeed some slight constraint in the drawing-room
+so long as his sister remained there, but when, after a series of sighs
+which punctuated some twenty minutes' pointed silence, she at last bade
+them a depressed good-night, the three happy lovers gave rein to their
+hearts. Heriot gave the loosest rein of all. It almost seemed as if a
+lover set at liberty was even happier than a lover just engaged. He had
+that air of animated relief noticeable in the escaped victims of a
+conscientious dentist. As for his children, they adored him little less
+than they adored two other people who were not there.</p>
+
+<p>Yet once or twice Jean fell thoughtful. At last she said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder whether we ought to go out to the Comyns' to-morrow after
+all?" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p><p>"My dear girl, why not? You'll have a very pleasant time there; and
+anyhow, it's too late to write and tell them you aren't coming."</p>
+
+<p>"We could wire in the morning," she said. "Frank, do you think we ought
+to go?"</p>
+
+<p>He looked a little surprised, but answered readily, "Not if you don't
+want to."</p>
+
+<p>"But why not go?" their father repeated.</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated. "Are you quite sure Andrew and Madge won't&mdash;won't try to
+be unpleasant?"</p>
+
+<p>"Let them try if they like!" laughed Heriot. "But I assure you, my dear
+girl, I was so reasonable&mdash;so unanswerable, in fact&mdash;that they simply
+can't feel annoyed for more than a few hours. Hang it, they are very
+nice good people at heart. Just give 'em time to let the proper point of
+view sink in, and they'll be chirpy as sparrows again. Besides, what
+good could you do by staying at home? The Comyns have a nice place;
+you'll have a capital time. I insist on your going."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, then," said Jean.</p>
+
+<p>Yet she could hardly picture Andrew and her cousin quite as chirpy as
+sparrows.</p>
+
+<p>And all this time, beneath the very floor of the room where they
+laughed, the plans of the coalition ripened. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3>
+
+<p>In the course of breakfast upon the following morning, Heriot startled
+his junior partner by announcing his intention of putting in a strenuous
+day's work at the office. Andrew exchanged a curious glance with Mrs.
+Dunbar, and then merely inquired&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"When will you be back?"</p>
+
+<p>"Four o'clock," said Heriot cheerfully. "Quite long enough hours for a
+man of my age" (he smiled humorously at his son). "Of course there's
+sure to be a lot of things to put right, and so on" (Andrew raised a
+startled eye), "but I'll polish 'em off by four."</p>
+
+<p>He ate a remarkably hearty breakfast and strode off blithely, this time
+a few minutes ahead of his partner. It was an even more singular thing
+that Andrew should linger to confer once more with the lady he had so
+lately regarded as the impersonation of everything suspicious.</p>
+
+<p>Another curious incident happened later in the day. At lunch-time the
+junior partner left the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>office, and, without giving an explanation,
+remained absent through the afternoon. Not that Heriot missed him. He
+smoked and wrote and rallied Mr. Thomieson, and dictated letters which
+left his confidential clerk divided between the extremes of admiration
+for their shrewdness and horror at the terse and lively style in which
+they were couched; in short, he got through a day's work that sent him
+home at four o'clock in the best of spirits.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew met him in the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo," said Heriot, "where have you been all this time?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want to speak to you for a minute," his son replied, and then, as his
+father turned naturally towards the library door, stayed him. "There's
+some one in there. Just come into the dining-room for a moment."</p>
+
+<p>"Who's in there?"</p>
+
+<p>Andrew waited till he had got him behind the closed door, and then said
+very gravely&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It's Mrs. Dunbar and a friend of hers."</p>
+
+<p>"What friend?&mdash;Not old Charlie Munro?"</p>
+
+<p>"A Mr. Brown. Possibly you've not heard of him before, but I understand
+he's a connection of her late husband's family. She's asked him to come
+and meet you." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p><p>The exceeding solemnity of his manner obviously affected Heriot's high
+spirits.</p>
+
+<p>"What's up?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"I should hardly think you would need to ask that, considering what has
+passed between you. In fact, I gather that they want to be satisfied
+there's some reasonable explanation of your conduct."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw gently whistled.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's the game, is it? Well, I suppose I'll just have to tell him
+the simple truth, in justice to myself."</p>
+
+<p>His son heartily agreed.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the only thing to be done," said he, "the only honest course left,
+so far as I can see. Just make a clean breast of everything, and you may
+trust me to confirm all you say."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear boy, you're devilish good. I'm afraid I really haven't been as
+appreciative lately as I ought. You're talking like a sportsman now.
+Come on, we'll go in and tackle 'em together."</p>
+
+<p>He took his son's arm and gave him a friendly smile as they crossed the
+hall; but the seriousness of the situation seemed to prevent Andrew from
+returning these evidences of comradeship.</p>
+
+<p>The injured lady met her betrayer with marked constraint. She seemed to
+anticipate little pleasure <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>from the interview, but had evidently made
+up her mind to go through with it as a duty she owed her reputation and
+her friend Mr. Brown. This gentleman was grave, elderly, and of an
+unmistakably professional aspect. In a vague way Heriot fancied he had
+seen his face before, though he could not recollect where.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Mr. Walkingshaw genially, "here we all are; and now what's
+the business before the meeting?"</p>
+
+<p>"I understand," replied Mr. Brown, in a calm and gentle voice, "that you
+have broken off your engagement with this lady. Now, as a&mdash;well, I may
+say, as an interested friend of Mrs. Dunbar, I should very much like to
+have your reasons."</p>
+
+<p>Heriot smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you undertake to believe them?"</p>
+
+<p>"I undertake to give them my closest professional consideration,
+whatever they are."</p>
+
+<p>"May I ask if you are a lawyer?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brown coughed once or twice before replying.</p>
+
+<p>"He is," said Andrew decisively, and Mr. Brown seemed content to let
+this reply pass as his own.</p>
+
+<p>"You can talk to me with the utmost frankness," he said; "in fact, I
+infinitely prefer it." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p><p>"Well," began Heriot, "the simple fact of the matter is that I am
+growing rapidly younger."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah?" commented Mr. Brown.</p>
+
+<p>It was curious that he should exchange a quick glance, not with the lady
+whose interests he was representing, but with her errant lover's
+faithful son.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mr. Walkingshaw, warming to his narrative, "I am literally
+racing backwards. It is like a drive over a road one has passed along
+before, only in the opposite direction and much faster. I simply whizz
+past the old milestones. Now, a man who is behaving like that has no
+business to marry an already mature lady, who is growing older at the
+rate of, say one, while he is growing younger at the rate of, say ten;
+has he, Mr. Brown?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied Mr. Brown emphatically, "I honestly don't think he has."</p>
+
+<p>Heriot was delighted with this confirmation of his judgment. He threw a
+glance at the widow to see how she took it, but her eyes were cast down,
+and she displayed no emotion whatever.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the long and the short of the matter, Mr. Brown. I make the
+profoundest apologies to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>my charming relative; but if you agree that I
+acted for the best, I suppose we might as well adjourn and have a cup of
+tea."</p>
+
+<p>"Just one moment," said Mr. Brown gently. "I should like to have a few
+more particulars regarding this very interesting phenomenon, if you
+don't mind."</p>
+
+<p>"Not a bit, my dear sir. It's a very natural curiosity."</p>
+
+<p>"You feel, of course, a considerable exhilaration of spirits in
+consequence of this change?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm simply bursting with them."</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally, naturally. And you propose, no doubt, to exercise your
+activities in some beneficial way?"</p>
+
+<p>"In a dozen ways. I've already been the means of securing two happy
+engagements for my youngest children."</p>
+
+<p>"And breaking off two," said Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>His father turned to him with a frown. This was hardly the support he
+expected. To his great pleasure, the sympathetic Mr. Brown also
+disapproved of the interruption.</p>
+
+<p>"One thing at a time, please," said he, and resumed his intelligent
+inquiries. "These young <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>persons to whom your children have become
+engaged&mdash;they are hardly the matches you would have made at one time,
+are they?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I was a bit of an ass at one time," Mr. Walkingshaw
+confessed.</p>
+
+<p>"I see, I see. And now, as to the engagements you have broken off&mdash;you
+felt yourself inspired, prompted from within, as it were, to bring them
+to an end, I take it?"</p>
+
+<p>"You've put it deuced well," said Heriot.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you feel in any way inspired from without&mdash;any visions or voices,
+so to speak, any manifestations or appearances&mdash;anything of that kind?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw looked a little puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"The voices of romance and love, and that sort of thing, I certainly
+heard."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so, quite so, Mr. Walkingshaw. You heard them, did you? Well,
+it's not every one who hears these things."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled pleasantly, and Mr. Walkingshaw became confirmed in his
+opinion that this was quite one of the most agreeable men he had met for
+a long time.</p>
+
+<p>"May I ask whether you propose to take any <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>more steps to put this poor
+world of ours to rights?" inquired Mr. Brown.</p>
+
+<p>"He is taking control of the business again," said Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>"Again?" retorted Heriot. "When did I ever lose control of the business,
+I'd like to know? I've had my holiday, and now I'm going to make things
+hum in the office."</p>
+
+<p>"You are going to make them hum?" asked Mr. Brown. "Do you mean you are
+going to override your partner's decisions, and so on?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Mr. Brown, if I waited for his decisions, I'd be kicking up my
+heels in the office half the day. Metaphorically speaking, my son is
+somewhat like a man who fills his bath from a teacup instead of turning
+on the tap. I don't override his decisions, I simply anticipate them."</p>
+
+<p>"That is his account of it," said Andrew darkly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well," smiled Mr. Brown, "I think I understand. And now, Mr.
+Walkingshaw, may I ask if there is anything else you propose to do?"</p>
+
+<p>This time he glanced at Andrew, as if courting information.</p>
+
+<p>"He is altering his will," said the junior partner. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p><p>"Ah!" remarked his visitor again.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw drew himself up.</p>
+
+<p>"That is my own affair," he said, with dignity.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so&mdash;quite so," replied Mr. Brown in that peculiarly soothing
+voice he had at his command. "We would wish to make no inquiries into
+that. Only, there's just one thing I'd like to know&mdash;you don't mean to
+let the grass grow under your feet, I take it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No fears," said Heriot. "What I mean to do, I'm going to do at once. By
+Jingo, I'll be under age in a few years! I've got to do things
+promptly."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," replied Mr. Brown suavely, "I think that is all I want to
+know. We needn't detain you any longer, Mr. Walkingshaw."</p>
+
+<p>It struck Heriot that this was a funny way for the agreeable Mr. Brown
+to treat him in his own house. He assumed the air of a host at once.</p>
+
+<p>"Then we'll go up and have some tea. Come along, Mr. Brown."</p>
+
+<p>"I think," said his visitor politely, "that possibly your son and I had
+better have just a word or two with this lady first, if you'll permit
+us."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, my dear sir; just come up when you're ready." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p><p>As he went upstairs, it suddenly struck him as rather odd that her
+connection by marriage and legal adviser should refer to Madge as "this
+lady"; and also that she should have sat so silently through a
+conversation which primarily concerned herself. But then such rum things
+did happen in this amusing world that it was never worth while worrying.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3>
+
+<p>Stroking the cat and sipping his tea, Mr. Walkingshaw conversed
+pleasantly with his sister. Jean and Frank had gone into the country,
+and the two sat alone together in the drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>"Brown?" said Miss Walkingshaw. "I never knew the Dunbars had a relative
+of that name. Who will he be?"</p>
+
+<p>"I seem to mind seeing his face somewhere," replied her brother, "but
+more about him I can't tell you, except that he's a very pleasant
+fellow. Hullo, Andrew, where's Brown?"</p>
+
+<p>The junior partner had entered alone.</p>
+
+<p>"He had to go," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"Dash it, he might have said good-by."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew made no answer. He was looking at his aunt in a way that he had
+borrowed from his father's bygone manner. Though he had only quite
+recently begun to practise it seriously, he was sufficiently expert to
+convey unmistakably the fact that he desired her to withdraw. She rose
+obediently. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p><p>"Hullo, where are you off to?" asked her brother.</p>
+
+<p>"I have things to do, Heriot," she answered nervously, "just a few
+things to do."</p>
+
+<p>As she passed Andrew she paused, and her lips framed a question. There
+was something in his manner that frightened her; strange things were
+happening, she felt sure. But his glowering eye silenced her, and she
+faded noiselessly out of the room. Then Andrew advanced upon his father.</p>
+
+<p>"Just run your eye through that," he said quietly.</p>
+
+<p>He handed his father a large double sheet of blue foolscap containing a
+great deal of printed matter. The particular portion of it to which Mr.
+Walkingshaw's attention was directed ran thus&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="center">"<span class="smcap">Certificate of Emergency</span></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"(This certificate authorizes the detention of a Patient in an Asylum
+for a period not exceeding three days, without any order by the
+Sheriff.)</p>
+
+<p>"I, the undersigned George William Downie, being M.D., Glasgow, hereby
+certify on soul and conscience, that I have this day at 15, Roray Place,
+in the County of Edinburgh, seen and personally examined James Heriot
+Walkingshaw, and that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>the said person is of unsound mind, and a proper
+Patient to be placed in an Asylum, and is in a sufficiently good state
+of bodily health at this date to be removed to the Asylum.</p>
+
+<p>"And I hereby certify that the case of the said Person is one of
+emergency."</p></div>
+
+<p>It was then dated, and signed, "George W. Downie."</p>
+
+<p>"Asylum&mdash;Dr. Downie!" gasped Heriot. "But&mdash;what <i>is</i> this?"</p>
+
+<p>"It says on the paper. Just look&mdash;can't you read?"</p>
+
+<p>Heriot gave a convulsive start.</p>
+
+<p>"Was&mdash;was <i>that</i> Dr. Downie?"</p>
+
+<p>His son nodded.</p>
+
+<p>Again Heriot's startled eyes ran over the certificate, and then they
+turned upon his son. It is regrettable that his next words were not more
+worthy of his reputation.</p>
+
+<p>"You d&mdash;&mdash;d young skunk!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's no use swearing," his son replied coldly.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw fell back in his chair and seemed to meditate.</p>
+
+<p>"You wired to Glasgow for him?" he inquired in a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"I did." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p><p>"So that I shouldn't recognize him, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally."</p>
+
+<p>"What a sell if I'd spotted him and talked what the silly fool would
+have thought sense!"</p>
+
+<p>"You didn't," said Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Man, I'd never have given you credit for the brains to do the like of
+this."</p>
+
+<p>Then he started.</p>
+
+<p>"I see it all now! It was Madge put you up to the idea! Eh? Oh, you
+needn't trouble to deny it; I know you haven't the imagination
+yourself."</p>
+
+<p>With a calmer air he studied the paper afresh.</p>
+
+<p>"It's only for three days," he observed in a cheerier tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you actually imagine you're likely to get out at the end of three
+days?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw looked at his son steadily.</p>
+
+<p>"You know perfectly well that every word I said was true."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew remained coldly immovable.</p>
+
+<p>"I am no judge myself. I'd sooner depend on Dr. Downie's opinion."</p>
+
+<p>"Hypocrite to the last!" scoffed Heriot. "Can <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>you look me in the face,
+Andrew, and tell me that you honestly thought it was insanity to make
+friends of my children and help them to marry the people they loved, and
+divide my money fairly among you all? Can you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Permit me to remind you that it was not I who signed the certificate."</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's very dead silence, and then Heriot asked&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Then do you actually mean to shut me up in a lunatic asylum for the
+rest of my days?"</p>
+
+<p>Andrew had some of the finer points of the legal mind. He noted the
+trace of emotion in his father's voice, and knew he was fairly on top at
+last. To let this fact sink still further into Heriot's mind, he eyed
+him in austere silence for a few moments before he answered&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"If I have to, I shall."</p>
+
+<p>"If you <i>have</i> to? What d'ye mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that I am not going to have my business ruined&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ruined! Can you not stick to the truth on a single point? I am putting
+new life into it!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care for your kind of life, thanks," said Andrew primly, "and I
+repeat that I am not going to have my business&mdash;enlivened, if that's
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>how you choose to put it, and my family disgraced, and my reputation
+lost; and if I let you go on another day as you've been going, it'll be
+too late to save any of them. But I don't want to be harder than I can
+help." He paused for a moment, and his lip grew longer and straighter.
+"So I'll offer you an alternative."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you'll guarantee to clear out of the country and not come back
+again, I'll take no further proceedings on the strength of this
+certificate. I don't want to put you in an asylum any more than you want
+to go, but I've got to protect myself."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw mused.</p>
+
+<p>"When do you want me to start?"</p>
+
+<p>"At once."</p>
+
+<p>"At once!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, at once, before you see anybody else."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not even to say good-by?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"You've got some game on," said Heriot.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got to protect myself and my family."</p>
+
+<p>His father looked at him searchingly; but his face remained a solemn
+medallion of virtue. Then Mr. Walkingshaw again fell back in his chair
+and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>mused. Gradually the flicker of a smile appeared in his eye. It
+spread to his lips, and he sprang up cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>"It's not half a bad idea!" he exclaimed. "I'm just getting to the age
+when a young man ought to go about a bit and see something of the world.
+New Zealand now&mdash;that's a fine country&mdash;or Japan&mdash;or Texas. By Gad, you
+know I've several times wanted to do a bit of roughing it and big game
+shooting lately."</p>
+
+<p>His son looked at him suspiciously. This cheerfulness was unusual in
+people he had worsted, and the unusual was always to be distrusted. But
+to the less vigilant, ordinary mind Mr. Walkingshaw merely presented the
+spectacle of a man of young middle-age with a heart some ten years
+younger still.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it will be a wrench," he added, with a sobered air. "I'll
+miss 'em all: Frank&mdash;Ellen&mdash;Jean. By Gad, I shall miss Jean. However, it
+need only be for a year or two. Meanwhile&mdash;by Jingo, there's no doubt
+about it!&mdash;this is the chance of my life. Let's see now, what does one
+need? A revolver with six thingamajigs&mdash;top-boots and riding breeches&mdash;a
+good compass&mdash;" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p><p>The chill voice of Andrew interrupted this catalogue.</p>
+
+<p>"Once you go away, you've got to stay away."</p>
+
+<p>"Stay away!"</p>
+
+<p>"Your allowance will depend on that."</p>
+
+<p>"My allowance!" gasped Heriot.</p>
+
+<p>"Your estate has got to be administered by me just as though you were"
+(instinctively this pious young man's face grew solemn) "taken away from
+us."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I were not your father," sighed Heriot. "In happier
+circumstances, the pleasure of kicking you would just be immense."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew disliked physical brutality. His cheeks grew flabbier at the very
+idea of such an outrage&mdash;even in theory.</p>
+
+<p>"If you were to try anything of that kind, I warn you I'd withdraw my
+alternative."</p>
+
+<p>His father laughed reassuringly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you needn't keep your back against the bookcase: I'll leave the job
+for some luckier devil."</p>
+
+<p>A thought struck him.</p>
+
+<p>"By the way, I've promised to give Jean and Frank enough to keep them
+going. You'll see to that?" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p><p>"I'll carry out the provisions made when you were in your right mind."</p>
+
+<p>"What provisions?"</p>
+
+<p>"The terms of your will."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw looked at his son steadily and in silence. After a full
+minute under this stare Andrew began to grow uneasy.</p>
+
+<p>"There's to be no more nonsense, I warn you," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean either to rob your brother and sister of their money, or
+revenge yourself by stopping their marriages? By Heaven, Andrew&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He broke off and plunged into meditation. Then his eyes began to smile,
+though his lips were now compressed.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," he murmured.</p>
+
+<p>His son still felt a vague sense of apprehension.</p>
+
+<p>"Mind, you've got to stay abroad."</p>
+
+<p>"For ever?"</p>
+
+<p>"You must give me your word you won't come back for two years certain,
+and after that you lose your allowance if you land in Great Britain or
+Ireland."</p>
+
+<p>"Including the Channel Islands?"</p>
+
+<p>"Including them."</p>
+
+<p>"I see your game," smiled Heriot. "But I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>give you my word. Poor Jean,
+poor Frank&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You're not even to write to them," interrupted Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Walkingshaw stroked his chin meditatively.</p>
+
+<p>"I agree to that," he said. "Any more conditions?"</p>
+
+<p>The smile that prevailed in his discomfited parent's eye perturbed the
+junior partner. He warily scanned all possible loopholes.</p>
+
+<p>"You're not to communicate with Madge Dunbar."</p>
+
+<p>"God forbid!" said Heriot fervently.</p>
+
+<p>"Nor my aunt."</p>
+
+<p>"Bless her, poor soul; no fears of that."</p>
+
+<p>"I think that's all," said Andrew reluctantly.</p>
+
+<p>So long as those eyes continued to look at him like that, he desired to
+pile condition on condition. But the overwhelming advantages of being
+encumbered with no imagination occasionally&mdash;very occasionally&mdash;have
+compensating drawbacks. He could imagine nothing else to be guarded
+against.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'd better pack and be off."</p>
+
+<p>"You had," said Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>Just as he was leaving the room, Heriot turned and asked&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You've heard of changelings?" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p><p>Andrew stared.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you not mind hearing of goblins that get put into cradles instead of
+the real babies? That accounts for you. Thank the Lord, I need never
+again claim the discredit of begetting you!" </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3>
+
+<p>A luggage-laden cab clattered over the granite cubes and passed out of
+the ring of tall mansions and the shadow of the stately trees within the
+garden. The career of Heriot Walkingshaw, W.S., was ended, and shocked
+respectability could lower again her up-rolled eyes and see nothing more
+outrageous than a prowling cat. May her troubles always end as happily!
+Undoubtedly, had the full facts been there and then made public, a
+statue of the junior partner (completely clad) would have adorned that
+decorous garden.</p>
+
+<p>But his modest reticence was remarkable. He stood in the somber hall
+listening intently to make sure that the cab really did ascend the steep
+street towards the station, when his ally, after peering over the
+banisters, ran downstairs to meet him. He was just heaving a deep sigh
+of relief.</p>
+
+<p>"Did some one go away in a cab?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite possibly."</p>
+
+<p>In her eyes gleamed a sudden hint of suspicion. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p><p>"Was it Heriot?"</p>
+
+<p>He took his time before answering very deliberately&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It was."</p>
+
+<p>"Where is he going?"</p>
+
+<p>Again he paused. As every moment took his father farther from them, so
+every moment was precious.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you not guess?"</p>
+
+<p>"What!" she cried. "You're actually putting him into an asylum?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's the best place for him."</p>
+
+<p>She seized his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you give him the alternative?"</p>
+
+<p>With a chaste movement he withdrew the arm.</p>
+
+<p>"I gave him an alternative, certainly."</p>
+
+<p>Her black eyes seemed to pierce into his brain. He disliked being looked
+at like that exceedingly.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Our</i> alternative?"</p>
+
+<p>"Our?" he questioned.</p>
+
+<p>"The alternative we discussed last night?"</p>
+
+<p>"We discussed a good many things."</p>
+
+<p>She kept following him up till his back was nearly against the front
+door.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you offer him the alternative of keeping his promise to me?" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p><p>"Look out," he muttered. "Some of the servants may be coming."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Would you marry a man that's off his head?"</p>
+
+<p>"He isn't; he was only pretending!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's not what Dr. Downie thought."</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Downie! What did he know!"</p>
+
+<p>"He certified him."</p>
+
+<p>He was backed against the front door now.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you offer Heriot that alternative?"</p>
+
+<p>He paused for a moment. Heriot must be at the station by now, and he had
+not many spare minutes before the train started.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I did not," he answered.</p>
+
+<p>The sympathetic widow's hand shot out; there was a smack and then a
+thud. The smack was caused by a momentary encounter between the hand and
+his spherical cheek, the thud by a meeting of his head and the door.</p>
+
+<p>"You miserable creature!" she hissed.</p>
+
+<p>With a look such as only the righteous can ever hope to wear, and that
+in the moment of martyrdom, he watched her rush upstairs sobbing.</p>
+
+<p>And thus the coalition, having served its beneficent purpose, came
+abruptly to an end. A great deal might be written in this connection,
+adducing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>this instance to illustrate the wider fields of statecraft,
+but unfortunately the present narrative is a simple record of facts, and
+not a philosophical treatise. The immediate consequence of the episode
+was that on the following morning Mrs. Dunbar set out for the west of
+Ross-shire to pay a long-promised visit to a third cousin who possessed
+several thousand acres of moorland in that vicinity. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3>
+
+<p>It was on the following morning that Jean and Frank returned, their
+faces glowing with country sunshine and spring wind, their hearts
+quickened with anticipation. In the train coming home they had exchanged
+many confidences. Could he possibly manage to get married before he went
+out to India? Frank wondered. Would Lucas have to wait till he had sold
+a few more pictures? wondered Jean. He ran whistling up the steps and
+rang the bell. She burst radiantly into the somber hall. And then, at
+twelve o'clock in the morning of an ordinary working week-day, they
+found the junior partner at home to receive them. Such a portent had
+never before been seen.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's father?" asked Jean.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew's cheeks twitched nervously; yet on the whole he maintained a
+compassionate expression highly honorable to his fraternal instincts. In
+a hushed voice he addressed his sister.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to have a word with you," said he.</p>
+
+<p>He took her apart from her brother and shut <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>the library door securely.
+Frank was such a hot-tempered young fellow; and he had suffered one
+physical outrage already. In a voice as appropriate as his face he
+gently broke the news&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Our father has been removed to an asylum."</p>
+
+<p>"Removed&mdash;to an asylum!" gasped Jean.</p>
+
+<p>She did not strike him, but on the whole he was even more glad when that
+interview came to an end than when he saw the widow's muscular back at
+last turn from the front door.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>A few days afterwards a tall man in a sportsmanlike ulster walked up the
+gangway of a steamship bound for a port in South America. He was
+followed on board by a friend with very blue eyes and a cavalier
+mustache. They talked for a few minutes and then shook hands
+affectionately.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Lucas, good-by, old fellow," said the passenger. "And remember
+now what you're to tell them. They're not to drop a hint&mdash;not a whisper
+of what they know. Just keep your tails up all of you, as best you can.
+Handy thing, this revolver we chose. I must practise shooting from the
+hip pocket. I say, take special care of Jean. Tell her I know how plucky
+she is&mdash;she'll be staunch&mdash;she'll wait. Tell her I'll often be
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>thinking&mdash;Hullo, last bell; you'd better get on shore."</p>
+
+<p>A little later the steamer was in the middle of the gray Thames, bearing
+Heriot, his fortunes, and his six-shooter far, far from the office of
+Walkingshaw &amp; Gilliflower. The protagonist of virtuous respectability
+sat there triumphantly enshrined. He had done everything a good man
+could reasonably be expected to do; only he had not imagined Lucas
+Vernon waving a farewell to his late partner. </p>
+
+<hr class="biggest" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 300-302]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="PART_V" id="PART_V"></a>PART V </h2>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER I</h3>
+
+<p>Even in the heyday of Mr. Walkingshaw's career, when he was most
+conspicuously an example to his fellow-citizens, revered by the young
+and applauded by the old, there were to be found certain austere critics
+who held that, for themselves, the character of Andrew presented the
+more chaste ideal. Exemplary though his father's life had been (up to
+that fatal illness), there was always a latent vein of geniality in his
+character, a reminiscence of good living in his ruddy countenance, a
+brightness in his eye, that suggested possibilities; and even a
+possibility might conceivably, under certain circumstances, given this
+and that&mdash;well, it might be safer away. Whereas Andrew's pale round
+cheeks and solemn aspect were as reassuring as a plate of porridge.</p>
+
+<p>These pioneers of criticism were thought extremists six months ago; now,
+they had all respectable society at their back. Of course it was never a
+point in a man's favor that his father (or indeed any relative) could
+run amuck as Andrew's had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>done. On the other hand, he had so promptly
+and fearlessly plucked out the parent who offended him, and behaved,
+moreover, through all this tribulation with such becoming solemnity,
+that he very soon began rather to gain than to lose by his martyrdom.
+Each step he took was discretion itself. His father, people learnt, had
+been quietly removed to a retreat for the mentally infirm, situated,
+some said in Devonshire, and others in North Wales. The very ambiguity
+on this point was highly approved. It argued the perfection of prudence.
+As for the ungrateful girl who had jilted him, he had talked at
+considerable length to his friends on that subject, and they reported
+that, though naturally grieved, and even offended, by her conduct, he
+was nevertheless able to express in a calm voice many Christian
+sentiments; frequently, for instance, assuring his audience that he
+forgave her, and that if she preferred to stew in her own juice he was
+too much of a gentleman to interfere with her pleasure. At this rate, it
+was recognized that very soon nothing the Goddess of Mediocrity could
+offer would be beyond his reach. She had many worshipers, but
+unquestionably Andrew Walkingshaw looked like her favorite.</p>
+
+<p>He himself was modestly disposed to agree with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>this opinion. Really,
+the success of his prompt procedure had been remarkable. From his two
+sensible married sisters he had never anticipated trouble, and they had
+loyally fulfilled his expectations. With both he held private
+consultations, and each accepted his version of the facts without a
+single unnecessary or disquieting question. They knew they could trust
+Andrew. But what did surprise him was the calmness into which the
+impotent indignation of Frank and Jean subsided. Within three days they
+were converted from volcanoes to icebergs. It was a condition too frigid
+to give him unalloyed delight, yet all things considered he could not
+but think it exceedingly encouraging.</p>
+
+<p>"I presume you don't intend to give either of us a marrying allowance?"
+said Frank, interrupting with this practical inquiry the guarded
+narrative of his elder brother.</p>
+
+<p>"If I could feel it in any way to be my duty&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Frank interrupted him again.</p>
+
+<p>"But you don't; what?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Frank, I may tell you candidly&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>For the third time the soldier cut in&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"And I may tell <i>you</i> candidly that of all contemptible hounds I've ever
+had the misfortune to meet, you're the most despicable." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p><p>That concluded the conference; and judging from Jean's pointed neglect
+of any opportunities for consultation with which Andrew provided her, he
+gathered that Frank had sufficiently expressed her opinion also. It was,
+no doubt, painful to see oneself thus misjudged, but at the same time he
+could not feel too thankful for their abstinence from any further
+inquiry regarding their father's fate. At first this lack of curiosity
+struck him as almost suspicious, but he was reassured by his conviction
+of their depravity. While their father was favoring them, they made a
+fuss about him: now that he could favor them no more, their feigned
+affection for him disappeared, and all they thought of was reviling the
+one member of the family who knew what was best for them. Each time he
+recalled those monstrous epithets of Frank's, this conviction deepened,
+till he became positively ashamed of them for their indifference. They
+might at least have gone through the form of asking for some news of
+their father now and then, even if they had not the hearts to sympathize
+with his malady. But they had no sense of decency, those two.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately, he was soon relieved of Frank's society. Some weeks before
+his furlough was up he returned to India, and the house was well rid of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>him. A meandering and indignant letter from Archibald Berstoun of that
+ilk, informing Mr. Andrew Walkingshaw (in the third person) that he
+would be obliged if he would kindly keep his brother from trespassing in
+his garden, indicated that the despairing lover had paid a farewell, and
+surreptitious, visit to his mistress; but that was the last
+inconvenience he inflicted.</p>
+
+<p>To add to Andrew's relief, Jean came to him a few days after Frank's
+departure and announced her intention of repairing to London and
+adopting the profession of nursing. In retailing this incident to his
+friends, her brother laid particular emphasis on the generosity he had
+displayed and the scanty thanks she had tendered him. The financial
+assistance he offered her was ample&mdash;perfectly ample for all that a girl
+wanted; while in the matter of good advice he had been positively
+extravagant.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll think well over this, Jean," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"I have thought," she answered briefly.</p>
+
+<p>"It's an arduous profession you're embarking on, and a responsible
+profession, and an honorable profession. It requires&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know what it requires," she interrupted. "It will be much better
+if you simply tell your <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>friends what you intended to tell me. They may
+be impressed: I am not."</p>
+
+<p>And, like the obliging brother he was, Andrew obeyed her wishes
+literally. He had his reward, for such of his friends as were able to
+wait till he had finished his narrative told him candidly that they
+thought he had left nothing unsaid, and that certainly his sister ought
+to consider herself fortunate. In fact, he only relinquished his grasp
+of their buttonholes when they had acquiesced in these conclusions.</p>
+
+<p>The spectacle was now presented to the world of poor Andrew Walkingshaw,
+bereft of his father and deserted by his sister, living in that great
+house in company only with his sense of duty and his aunt. People were
+very sorry for him indeed; they said he should marry; in fact, such as
+enjoyed the privilege of his acquaintance even began to select suitable
+young women for his approval. Andrew inspected these candidates gravely,
+but at the same time let it be clearly understood that he was in no
+hurry; he might decide to marry, or he might not&mdash;anyhow, if he did, the
+lady would be conferring no favor. It was left to your common sense to
+decide by whom, in that case, the favor would be conferred. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p><p>All this sympathy was very consoling, but in a world partially
+compounded of people less sensible than Andrew Walkingshaw, a few
+disappointments are inevitable. He found his in the annoying attitude of
+two or three valuable but wrong-headed clients, who would persist in
+making frequent inquiries as to the probable duration of the senior
+partner's indisposition. There was an unpleasant sense of comparison
+implied in these questions, a hint of preference for the slap-dash,
+hang-technicalities method with which, in his latter days, Heriot had
+scandalized aggrieved spinsters in quest of consolation and hesitating
+suitors desirous of having their minds made up. The trouble was that
+these latter classes, though delightful company to one of Andrew's
+sympathetic disposition, were considerably less remunerative than the
+irritating inquirers; and so long as there seemed any possibility of his
+father's return to sanity and his office, he felt that he could never
+regard his position as wholly satisfactory; on the other hand, though a
+sick lion may possibly be compared with a live dog, a defunct lion is
+proverbially out of the running.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew thought over this aspect of the case long and conscientiously. He
+was exceedingly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>truthful, he disliked superfluous butchery, but what
+choice had he?</p>
+
+<p>It is said by the more inspired species of social reformer that what
+good men deem theoretically advisable is sure to happen sooner or later.
+In some cases, if the man be talented as well as good, it happens
+quickly. Within a few months of Jean's desertion came the last touch
+that was needed to complete the pathos of her brother's position and
+disarm the most hostile critic. Among the deaths in the <i>Scotsman</i>
+appeared the name of James Heriot Walkingshaw. Nothing was said as to
+how or where he had died; and, in fact, the point was never
+satisfactorily settled whether the sad event took place in North Wales
+or Devonshire; but, of course, the cause was only too evident. Well,
+poor man, it was a mercy the end had come as swiftly as it had. His
+friends were sorry, of course, but not surprised and quite resigned.
+They were very pleased with the way his son took it. He departed quietly
+for the funeral in a hatband six inches wide, and returned with a
+thoughtful and chastened air to resume his daily work. The interment
+took place, it was understood, in a churchyard adjacent to the retreat;
+and under the sad circumstances people thought Andrew had done well to
+attend it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>unaccompanied by other mourners. In short, every circumstance
+connected with the tragedy served to increase the respect in which he
+was held. Even Jean's unfortunate omission to use black-edged paper when
+writing a few brief and curiously stiff acknowledgments of the letters
+of condolence she received, reacted indirectly in Andrew's favor. People
+pitied the brother of this unfeeling girl. How wounded he must feel by
+her callousness!</p>
+
+<p>But the most satisfactory consequence of all was the cessation of
+inquiries for any other Walkingshaw than Andrew. He considered himself
+justified in holding that this tacitly implied an admission that nobody
+could desire a better lawyer than he. And as there were none to
+contradict this assumption (since he had always made a point of avoiding
+the candid critic like the Devil, the impecunious school friend, and
+Sunday golf), he derived from it the full gratification to which he was
+entitled.</p>
+
+<p>Never, surely, was there a more signal triumph for the meek. His brother
+had abused him, and he was now broiling in India, torn for ever from his
+betrothed; his sister had snubbed him, and there she was homeless in
+London slaving in a hospital; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>Mrs. Dunbar had smacked his face, and she
+was an exile in the moors of Ross-shire; and now here was his father,
+who had plagued and despised him, numbered in the list of the deceased.
+Alas for Heriot Walkingshaw! He had despised the wrong man when he
+despised Andrew. "The Example is dead; long live the Example!" might
+well have been inscribed upon his tombstone, had their friends been able
+to learn precisely where that monument was situated. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER II</h3>
+
+<p>It is pleasant to be able to turn (still adhering closely to the facts
+as they occurred) from tombstones to orange blossom. His friends
+unanimously felt that Andrew, having suffered so much and so heroically,
+should now obtain the consolation he deserved. Among his many virtues
+none was more remarkable than his instinct for doing exactly what was
+expected of him, and at precisely the right moment. Forthwith he
+announced his engagement to Miss Catherine Henderson, whose father's
+residence had been used as the test by which Heriot first realized his
+disastrous return to youth. Mr. Henderson was now defunct, but his
+possessions served a better purpose than being stared at by a reprobate
+neighbor. They passed, in fact, into Andrew's keeping.</p>
+
+<p>The lady who accompanied them was, of course, an only child, and the
+income of two thousand pounds a year she enjoyed was derived from such
+extraordinarily safe investments that even the cautious Andrew, when he
+went into her affairs with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>a fellow-solicitor (on the week before he
+proposed), remarked at once that he saw an increase of three hundred and
+fifty pounds to be got without risking a halfpenny. As she was only four
+years older than he, there was no disparity of years on this occasion;
+while her appearance effectually guaranteed her lover against the
+discomforts of rivalry. In short, she was generally admitted to be an
+ideal mate for Andrew Walkingshaw.</p>
+
+<p>It was just eight months after Heriot's disappearance from public life
+that his son led Miss Henderson to the altar of St. Giles' Cathedral,
+and after a brief honeymoon in Switzerland established her in the
+stately mansion overlooking the circular garden. The fortunate couple
+had the further advantage of overlooking (when the leaves were off the
+trees) a substantial addition to their income in the shape of the
+bride's late residence, now let on very advantageous terms to a wealthy
+relative of Mr. Ramornie of Pettigrew. It seemed impossible for any step
+Andrew took to avoid being profitable. When he lost an umbrella at the
+club, it was always to find a better one in its place. And the most
+satisfactory thing of all was the consciousness that his prosperity was
+entirely the result of following the proper kind of principles. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p><p>One would fain avert one's eyes from the spectacle presented by the
+luckless Ellen Berstoun, were it not that her unhappy condition makes
+the contrast between lax and proper principles the more poignant. No
+mate with two thousand pounds a year for her! Instead, merely a hopeless
+passion for an impecunious subaltern sweltering in far-off India. That
+was poor company throughout the long series of monotonous months that
+were now her portion. The brown buds on the tall beeches broke into
+leaf, and the dark pines were tipped with vivid green; the leaves
+withered and fell, and the dead needles littered the moss. Those were
+the most exciting changes that happened. Her father (a victim of gout)
+cursed her and Frank and Andrew and Heriot impartially. Her mother
+sighed and let her into secrets of their housekeeping and finances which
+clearly showed how selfish she had been. Her sisters were kind upon the
+whole, but dreadfully disposed to talk things over in a practical kind
+of way.</p>
+
+<p>And then at intervals arrived those letters, very long and very loving,
+and very full of riding and marching under strange skies, and adventures
+of which strange dark peoples and stranger beasts were the sinister
+ingredients. They <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>brightened her eyes for a little while, and then left
+her sadder than before.</p>
+
+<p>In the course of the second year of her bereavement, the disappointment
+of her parents with her failure was converted into satisfaction at the
+success of her sister Mary. An astonishingly wealthy shooting tenant in
+the neighborhood danced seven times with her at the County Ball, and
+proposed next morning by letter. He would have been accepted by telegram
+had Archibald of that ilk had his way, but fortunately the gentleman's
+ardor had not cooled by the time the next post reached him. A week later
+his prospective best man wriggled out of his duties by coming to an
+arrangement with Mary's younger sister that the wedding should be a
+double-barreled affair, with two brides and two grooms. As this second
+suitor was very nearly as rich as the first, Ellen found her fate
+alleviated by the entire and permanent removal of her parents'
+displeasure. She became now a mere object of pity, mingled at times with
+contempt for her folly in dooming herself to a sterile spinsterhood; for
+it was clear that Frank and she could never hope to marry, however much
+writing-paper they might waste.</p>
+
+<p>Just as the world never plumbed the depths of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>dignity and purpose in
+Woman till it saw her chained to a railing, clasping the hated constable
+like a lover, a hoarse example to her sluggish sisters, so it can never
+realize her capacity for foolishness till it has seen her waiting
+through weary years, hoping against reason, the victim of illogical
+constancy to a mere young man. Sweet and gracious Ellen Berstoun, so
+slender and pretty and charming, wasting her fragrance in the old garden
+and the dark pine-woods for the sake of certain passionate memories and
+the most impractical of day-dreams, was a sight to make a philosopher
+despair.</p>
+
+<p>Undoubtedly Andrew's were the proper principles. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER III</h3>
+
+<p>With the drawing in of dusk a thin mist stole up from the river and
+stealthily crept through the streets and lanes of Chelsea. It was not
+yet five o'clock, but on an afternoon in the depth of winter the little
+touch of fog converted dusk to darkness. The mist was not thick, but
+very cold and clammy, and in the zigzag lane the lamps were blurred and
+the shadows deep. Two people left a bus in the King's Road and turned
+down it. He was broad-shouldered, and swung along with a fine decided
+stride: she was trim and erect, and very quietly clad; her face was
+fresh and bright, a smile haunted her eyes, and her straight little nose
+seemed to breathe independence.</p>
+
+<p>"The air is beastly damp," said he. "I wish you'd let me bring you in a
+cab."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, Lucas," she answered stoutly; "we neither of us can afford
+it. You must learn to be sensible."</p>
+
+<p>"But, my dear girl, I tell you I'm beginning to make money now." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p><p>"Well, don't begin to spend it; and then perhaps you may have a little
+in the bank in a year or two."</p>
+
+<p>"A year or two!" he exclaimed; "I'll have enough in six months to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She interrupted him briskly.</p>
+
+<p>"Lucas! Don't you remember we agreed that whichever of us said 'marry'
+first should be fined?"</p>
+
+<p>"I never agreed."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I shall break off the engagement."</p>
+
+<p>Yet she continued walking quickly by his side till they came to the
+studio. He took out his key, but she stopped short on the pavement with
+a fine air of decision.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't come in unless you promise to be more or less rational," she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>And then with the same air of decision she entered.</p>
+
+<p>After a few minutes' apparently unnecessary delay he lit the gas and she
+settled herself in the deck-chair while he filled the teapot.</p>
+
+<p>"Nursing is too heavy work for you," he said suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be absurd," she smiled.</p>
+
+<p>He put down the teapot, took her by the shoulders, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span>and looked into her
+eyes, at once critic and adorer.</p>
+
+<p>"Jean! You can't deceive me. It's my business to know how people sit
+when they are tired, and what signs in their faces show they are
+overworked. You are nearly dead beat."</p>
+
+<p>"Only&mdash;only a very little, Lucas," she said less stoutly.</p>
+
+<p>Her spirit was brave, but her feet were weary, and how her back ached!</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to take you away from that infernal hospital," he announced.</p>
+
+<p>Her back stiffened again.</p>
+
+<p>"Lucas! you promised to be sensible."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled down at her.</p>
+
+<p>"I have the sense to marry you&mdash;and do it at once, too!"</p>
+
+<p>She jumped up.</p>
+
+<p>"Lucas!"</p>
+
+<p>"Jean!"</p>
+
+<p>He held her fast.</p>
+
+<p>"You may be strong enough to hold me," she panted, "but you aren't
+strong enough to marry me against my will!"</p>
+
+<p>"But why shouldn't we? Why the mischief, why the dickens, why the devil
+not?" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span></p><p>"Because you'd be bankrupt in a month. You've <i>no</i> sense, dear. Do get
+that into your head. By your own admission you have only just begun to
+sell your pictures. Wait and see whether it lasts&mdash;wait for a couple of
+years&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"A couple of&mdash;! I won't, and that's flat!"</p>
+
+<p>"One year, then."</p>
+
+<p>"Twelve months? I can't, Jean."</p>
+
+<p>"You must!"</p>
+
+<p>"Daren't you risk it now?"</p>
+
+<p>She drew herself back a little.</p>
+
+<p>"Lucas, that isn't fair. I dare do <i>anything</i>&mdash;except come to you
+without a penny, and probably ruin you. If I had even twenty pounds a
+year to bring you, I'd risk it; but you know quite well that if I marry
+against Andrew's wishes any time within seven years I forfeit
+everything."</p>
+
+<p>"If I killed Andrew," asked the painter grimly, "who would his money go
+to?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wait!" she said, her spirit smiling through her eyes. "Don't you trust
+father to help us somehow&mdash;some time or other?"</p>
+
+<p>He twisted his mustache desperately upwards.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to help myself."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled openly now.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't be trusted yet; you're so greedy!" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p><p>He laughed, but a little wryly.</p>
+
+<p>"It's because I'm starving."</p>
+
+<p>"Then work, work!" said Jean.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't work harder," he answered more philosophically. "I can only
+sell faster."</p>
+
+<p>"And you're doing that too," she said encouragingly.</p>
+
+<p>They needed all the encouragement they could snatch, these two perverse
+and desperate lovers. People who lack the sense to provide themselves
+with an income after falling in love generally do.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of an hour, one of those galloping hours that fly swifter
+than ten ordinary minutes, they passed out into the lane again. The mist
+was now so thick that even when the way grew straight they could see no
+more than two lamps ahead, and it was very chill and damp.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll hail a cab as soon as I see one."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't drive in it, I warn you."</p>
+
+<p>He implored, but she shook her fair head resolutely.</p>
+
+<p>"One of us must be practical," she persisted.</p>
+
+<p>"And the other in love?"</p>
+
+<p>She pressed his hand, but remained the charming incarnation of
+obstinacy. He laughed at last, though a little anxiously as he saw a
+fringe of tiny <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span>drops gather on her hair; and he let her have her way.
+Together they entered a bus and slowly rumbled eastwards. The bus was
+full, and for a long time they sat in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"It's quite fine here!" she exclaimed at last; "we've come out of the
+mist&mdash;look at the stars!"</p>
+
+<p>They both cheered up amazingly. It actually seemed as if they were
+preposterous enough to take this ordinary meteorological incident as an
+omen. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+
+<p>"We'll have to ask the Rivingtons," said Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>"And not the Donaldsons?" inquired his wife.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew reflected. This was to be a very special dinner party; quite the
+smartest function they had given yet. His sister would want to be there,
+especially when she heard the Ramornies were coming over for it. On the
+other hand, they knew a great many more distinguished people than Hector
+and his wife had yet become, and of these they could only invite a small
+selection to the dinner party. It was a case in which principle clashed
+with principle.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll have Gertrude and Hector too," he announced.</p>
+
+<p>He had just remembered that Walkingshaw &amp; Gilliflower were briefing
+Hector in a forthcoming case, and that there had been some discussion in
+the office as to the precisely proper fee to which, at that moment in
+his upward career, he was entitled. He would set this dinner against the
+odd <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span>two guineas in dispute. That, anyhow was an equitable principle, if
+ever there was one.</p>
+
+<p>"And of course Lord and Lady Kilconquar?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>"And Sir William Sinclair?"</p>
+
+<p>Andrew nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Must we ask the Mackintoshes?"</p>
+
+<p>Andrew frowned.</p>
+
+<p>"They'll do for our next dinner."</p>
+
+<p>That was not going to be quite so smart a function.</p>
+
+<p>"That's twenty-two," said Mrs. Walkingshaw.</p>
+
+<p>"Just the right number," replied her husband. "It was what the
+Kilconquars had when we dined there."</p>
+
+<p>Everything that Andrew had done was right, and his circumstances
+reflected his rectitude. No dodging about devious lanes in the fog for
+him and Mrs. Walkingshaw; no slow progress in crowded omnibuses; no
+Bohemian teas in paint-smelling studios. The streets through which they
+passed were wide and stately, even if a trifle windy; a motor car
+whirled them to their destination (which was always the right place to
+be seen at); their meals were consumed in sedate Georgian apartments,
+and in every detail would have satisfied <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span>a peer. They moved through
+life on oiled and noiseless wheels, wrapped in comfort and attended by
+respect. Let no carping critic say that the good things in this life are
+not distributed according to the most laudable principle. The
+guinea-fowl lays where she sees a nest-egg, and the larger it is the
+more does she deposit. And the prosperous nest-owner is he who stays
+always beside his treasure, gently coaxing the fowl, and vigilantly
+guarding against the least suspicion of disturbance, theft, or injury.
+Let anything happen that may in the world outside; here is his post of
+duty, and he sticks to it.</p>
+
+<p>It is true that for a short while an uncomfortable shadow seemed to
+cloud the serenity of Andrew's soul. This happened about the second
+anniversary of his late father's removal from his native city to that
+retreat where he ended his days, and was believed by his aunt to result
+from the painful memories evoked by his recollection of the date. It is
+certain that his serenity returned with each succeeding week, till by
+this time, when several months had passed, he had thrown off his anxiety
+altogether. He remained perhaps a little more constantly vigilant than
+before&mdash;even, for instance, when coming home from church; but it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span>seemed
+now he had rather the alertness of the coastguardsman than the tension
+of the sailor when the decks are cleared for action.</p>
+
+<p>It is impossible to imagine a more ideal scene of domestic felicity than
+that presented by Andrew and his spouse this evening. The room had been
+redecorated and partially refurnished by its new mistress. As she never
+expressed any opinion without quoting a competent authority, her husband
+at once took into respectful consideration her suggestion that
+fashionable people no longer dangled a cut-glass chandelier from their
+ceiling, and always had colored tiles in their hearths. When she further
+suggested that it should be her privilege to effect these and other
+improvements out of the dowry she was bringing him, he passed from
+consideration to consent. So that the fortunate couple were now mounted
+in a setting worthy of their price.</p>
+
+<p>Sitting at a Sheraton table in a semi-evening toilet that had cost her
+forty guineas, writing the names of some twenty of their most eminent
+fellow citizens in the spaces on the invitation cards, Catherine
+impressed her husband favorably&mdash;entirely favorably. A very satisfactory
+mate indeed he considered her. One could not imagine her pale <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>eyes
+winking, or a saucy smile on her thin lips, or anything but the plainest
+common sense coming out of them. Yes, she was very satisfactory. It is
+true that he had once, in a burst of confidence, confided to one of his
+friends that she was "Awful skinny," but it is wonderful how far forty
+guineas will go towards modifying that defect. In short, she was&mdash;well,
+satisfactory. When one has secured the right adjective, why change it?</p>
+
+<p>Andrew's complacency was completed by the presence of his aunt. He still
+kept her with him as a kind of perpetual testimonial to his solid worth.
+Her mere presence proved he was a kind and hospitable nephew; and on the
+least provocation she would enlarge upon his virtues in a way that was
+most pleasant for a visitor to hear. At other times she kept discreetly
+in the background, just as she had all her life. There was also this
+further advantage: that her legacy was much more satisfactorily employed
+in defraying (at her own desire, of course) some portion of her nephew's
+increasing expenses, than going into the pocket of a worthless landlord
+or hydropathic company.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew was glancing through an evening paper, and his aunt
+conscientiously studying that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span>morning's <i>Scotsman</i>. Suddenly she
+exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>"The Cromarty Highlanders have come to Glasgow!"</p>
+
+<p>Andrew stared at her.</p>
+
+<p>"Not the second battalion?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Frank's regiment."</p>
+
+<p>"But they weren't to leave India for three years yet."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Andrew looked over her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I saw they'd been ordered home some time ago."</p>
+
+<p>"You didn't mention it to me," said Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>She looked a little surprised, for she knew that Frank's was not a name
+mentioned in that house.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't think you'd be interested."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not in the least," replied her husband.</p>
+
+<p>His eye reproved her coldly. She exchanged with his aunt one of those
+sympathetic glances that pass between indulgent but comprehending women.
+"He is a noble creature, but at moments a little inconsistent," they
+mutually confided. And then she wrote the names of Lord and Lady
+Kilconquar on their card.</p>
+
+<p>And that is how Jean might have been spending her evenings too, had she
+had proper principles. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER V</h3>
+
+<p>The gentlemen entered the drawing-room, bringing a faint aroma of
+Andrew's excellent cigars. The ladies' conversation died away to the
+whispered ends of one or two stories too interesting to be left
+unfinished, and then with a deeper note and on manlier topics the flood
+of talk poured on again.</p>
+
+<p>It had been a most successful dinner&mdash;soup excellent, fish first-rate,
+everything good. Of course the wines were unexceptionable, while the
+company recognized itself as a homogeneous specimen of all that was best
+in the city&mdash;with the Ramornies of Pettigrew thrown in. Here they were
+now, the whole twenty-two of them from old Lord Kilconquar, most eminent
+of judges, down to that rising young Hector Donaldson, bearing implicit
+testimony to the status of Andrew Walkingshaw. He stood there beside
+Lady Kilconquar's chair gravely discoursing on a well-chosen topic of
+local interest and bending solemnly at intervals to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span>hear her comments.
+You could see at once from the attitude of all who addressed him that he
+was recognized as far from the least distinguished member of the
+company. He had touched the very apex of his career.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, Andrew," murmured his wife. "Mrs. Rivington is going to sing."</p>
+
+<p>Hector opened the piano, and Mrs. Rivington sat down and touched the
+keyboard. Then she looked around for silence, and it fell completely.
+All the eye-witnesses present are agreed that it was in the moment of
+this pause that the drawing-room door opened, and they heard the butler
+announce the name of Mr. Walkingshaw.</p>
+
+<p>The company turned with one accord and beheld a tall youth, attired in
+tweeds, march confidently into the room. In fact, he seemed so much at
+home, that, though naturally surprised (especially at his unorthodox
+costume), they never dreamt of any but the most obvious and simple
+explanation. They scrutinized him as he advanced, merely wondering what
+cousin&mdash;or could it be brother?&mdash;he was.</p>
+
+<p>"Surely that's not Frank?" murmured Lord Kilconquar.</p>
+
+<p>It certainly was not Frank; and yet it was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span>some one who looked
+strangely familiar to one or two of the older people present. He made
+straight for Andrew, his hand outstretched.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you know me?" he asked; and the voice recalled strange memories
+too.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew was not altogether unprepared for some such apparition appearing
+some day, though scarcely on such a horribly ill-timed occasion.
+Somehow, he had always imagined the dread possibility as happening in
+his office. But he remembered exactly how he had decided to confront it.
+He pulled his lip hard down, his eyes contracted dangerously, and then
+he merely shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"What!" cried the young man, with a touching note of rebuffed affection.
+"Don't you recognize your own son?"</p>
+
+<p>Andrew's brain reeled. His mouth fell open, and his stare lost all
+traces of formidableness.</p>
+
+<p>"Father!" said the stranger in a moving voice.</p>
+
+<p>Incoherently Andrew burst out.</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;you&mdash;you're not my son!"</p>
+
+<p>His disclaimer seemed so evidently sincere that the sense of the company
+was already in sympathy with the victim of this outrageous intrusion,
+when&mdash;alas for him!&mdash;his aunt chose that fatal moment, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span>of all others,
+to rush out of her chronic background.</p>
+
+<p>"Andrew!" she cried, her cheeks suddenly very pink, her eyes strangely
+excited, her voice trembling with the fervor of her appeal. "He must
+be&mdash;oh, he must be! Look&mdash;look at the likeness to your father! Oh,
+Andrew, what if it is irregular; surely you wouldn't deny the living
+image of poor Heriot!"</p>
+
+<p>"By Gad! So he is," exclaimed Lord Kilconquar.</p>
+
+<p>A general murmur instinctively confirmed this verdict. They wished to be
+charitable&mdash;but what a family resemblance!</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I&mdash;I tell you it's a put-up job!" stammered their host.</p>
+
+<p>"Who put it up, father?" asked the strange youth plaintively.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Kilconquar shook his head, and again the startled company followed
+his lead.</p>
+
+<p>"Look, Andrew!" cried his aunt, pointing to a tinted photograph of James
+Heriot Walkingshaw at the age of twenty, which hung above the
+mantelpiece. "Oh, just look at the resemblance!"</p>
+
+<p>The young man regarded this work of art with evident emotion. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p><p>"My sainted grandfather!" he murmured, though quite loud enough for the
+company to hear.</p>
+
+<p>The poor lady stretched her thin clasped hands beseechingly under
+Andrew's very nose.</p>
+
+<p>"He says it himself&mdash;he says it himself!" she pleaded. "For Heriot's
+sake, don't disown him!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a rustle of silk, decisive and ominous. It was caused by the
+skirt of the chaste lady of Pettigrew.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night," she said.</p>
+
+<p>She only touched her brother's hand with the tips of her fingers, and
+her stony glance gave him his first clear vision of the appalling chasm
+that yawned beneath his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Maggie!" he besought her, "you don't believe it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Can you not disgrace yourself <i>quietly</i>?" she hissed, and a moment
+later was gone.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew realized that he was already in the chasm, hurtling downwards
+with fearful velocity. One after another, his guests followed the
+example of his scandalized sister; and their host was too unmanned to
+hold up his head and carry off the partings with the air of injured
+innocence that alone might have given his reputation another (though a
+feeble) chance. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span></p><p>As they left the hang-dog figure that so lately was a respected Writer
+to the Signet, they said to one another that all was over socially with
+Andrew Walkingshaw. And it had been so public, so dramatic, that they
+feared&mdash;of course they hoped against hope, but still they feared that
+the fine old business could not but suffer too. In London one might
+disgrace oneself and yet retain one's clients; but could one here? Well,
+anyhow, that and many other interesting aspects of the case would be
+debated by all Edinburgh to-morrow morning.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the unhappy victim of fate was left alone with his wife, his
+aunt, and his long-lost offspring. A desperate gesture dismissed Miss
+Walkingshaw; yet, though she trembled beneath his wrathful eye, she
+could not refrain from beseeching him again&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"He must be, Andrew&mdash;he must be! Just compare him with the picture."</p>
+
+<p>And then she shrank out of the drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>"Leave us," he commanded his wife.</p>
+
+<p>Her pale eyes gazed on him defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>"I certainly shall not. I demand a full explanation, Andrew!"</p>
+
+<p>"Go away, will you!" </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span></p><p>For answer she sat down firmly upon the sofa.</p>
+
+<p>"Papa, papa, don't be rough with her," expostulated the youth.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew confronted him indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"That's enough of this nonsense!" he thundered. "What d'ye mean? Who are
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Doesn't the voice of nature tell you?" the youth inquired sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"The voice of nature be damned!"</p>
+
+<p>The young man turned to the cold lady on the sofa.</p>
+
+<p>"Stepmother," he asked, "will you protect me?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him at first stonily, and then suddenly more kindly. He
+was remarkably good-looking, with such nice bright eyes, and a manner
+difficult to resist.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall certainly see that justice is done you," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>The young man seated himself beside her and took her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," he murmured affectionately.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew swore aloud and vigorously, but the pale eyes never flinched.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean deliberately to tell me you don't know who this young man
+is?" she demanded. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span></p><p>Put in that form, the question made him hesitate for an instant. The
+hesitation did honor to his sense of veracity, but it finally cost him
+the remains of his character.</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't trouble to answer!" she cried. "You <i>do</i> know who he is.
+Come, you had better tell me all about it at once. I presume you have
+not been <i>married</i> previously?"</p>
+
+<p>The youth spoke quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't think father was so scandalous as not to marry her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Did you?" she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>The luckless Writer fell into the trap. It seemed to him a gleam of
+hope&mdash;a chance of saving his precious reputation.</p>
+
+<p>"Er&mdash;ye&mdash;es," he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"You were married?" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>There was a dreadful pause, and then abruptly she demanded, "What became
+of her?"</p>
+
+<p>A dark frown answered this pertinent inquiry. She turned to the young
+man.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>He seemed to have some difficulty in controlling his voice as he
+answered&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"She lives in London."</p>
+
+<p>"Lives!" shrieked the lady. "Andrew&mdash;you <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span>are a bigamist! And I&mdash;I am
+not lawfully&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She leapt up and gave him one terrible look; and before he could speak
+she had swept wrathfully from the room.</p>
+
+<p>And then the most surprising thing occurred. Instead of continuing his
+filial overtures, the young man sank into the corner of the sofa and
+burst into peal upon peal of boyish laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my dear Andrew!" he gasped. "Oh, I can't help it&mdash;you a bigamist!
+Poor respectable old blighter! I say, what a joke! Oh, Andrew, Andrew,
+my bonny, bonny boy!"</p>
+
+<p>In silence through it all, Andrew gazed darkly down at the late Heriot
+Walkingshaw. </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3>
+
+<p>"When you have finished," said Andrew grimly.</p>
+
+<p>He looked a nasty customer to tackle now, but the laugher on the sofa
+merely subsided into a friendly smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Shake hands, Andrew," he cried, jumping up.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew placed his hands behind his back, and his glowering eyes answered
+this overture.</p>
+
+<p>"What!" said Heriot, "won't you even shake hands?"</p>
+
+<p>Andrew still stared darkly.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd rather have it war than peace?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had rather conclude this conversation as soon as possible."</p>
+
+<p>Heriot looked at him for a moment, and then shook his head with a smile
+compounded of sorrow and humor.</p>
+
+<p>"You're a hopeless case," said he. "Well, your blood be on your own
+head!"</p>
+
+<p>Andrew's lip grew longer and longer.</p>
+
+<p>"I admit you've made a fool of me," he said, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span>"if that's any
+satisfaction. But you'll make nothing out of me; not a shilling, not a
+halfpenny. Do you hear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Is that all?"</p>
+
+<p>"Practically; but I may just as well point out, to let you see where you
+stand, that as you have now done your worst, there's no use trying on
+blackmail or anything of that kind. You have been so very clever, you've
+thrown away any hold you might fancy you had. Do you quite understand
+that?"</p>
+
+<p>Heriot began to smile again, and Andrew's face grew grimmer.</p>
+
+<p>"You can prove <i>nothing</i>. You may say you're my father if you like&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"God forbid!" Heriot interrupted devoutly. "I've had enough of fathering
+a bogle. Claim any sire you like from Lucifer downwards, but don't put
+the blame on me. I won't be disgraced with you again; not at any price."</p>
+
+<p>For a few moments Andrew seemed to be in travail of a fitting repartee.
+When it appeared it possessed all the practical characteristics of its
+parent.</p>
+
+<p>"In that case," he retorted, "you had better clear out of my house as
+quick as you can." </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p><p>Heriot regarded him with extreme composure.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you actually imagine you are going to get off as easy as this?" he
+inquired, "Man Andrew, I haven't been senior partner in Walkingshaw &amp;
+Gilliflower for nothing. You're just a rat in a trap. That's precisely
+your position at this moment."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd be glad to hear you explain how you make that out," said Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>Heriot smiled humorously as he produced a bulky pocket-book. Out of this
+he selected one of many letters it contained.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know the writing?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Andrew turned a thought more solemn, but his only answer was a wary
+sidelong glance.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be afraid to say. A hundred people can swear to it. There's no
+secret to be kept."</p>
+
+<p>"It is my late father's hand," said Andrew gravely.</p>
+
+<p>His guest burst into a shout of laughter, and then with an effort pulled
+himself together again.</p>
+
+<p>"Read it," he said, "and by the way, I may just as well tell you I've
+plenty more like it, so there's no point in putting it in the fire."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew took it with gingerly suspicion, which changed into a different
+emotion as he read: </p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Harris</span>,&mdash;I write to let you know that I have reached this
+city in safety and am slowly recovering from the mental anguish I
+have undergone. As regards my wretched and ungrateful son Andrew, I
+still disagree with you. No, Harris, I cannot bring myself to
+expose the infamy of my eldest boy to a thunder-struck world; I
+simply cannot do it. His immorality and dishonesty temporarily
+unhinged my mind. I am exiled through his perfidy, but I forgive
+him, Harris; I forgive him. Hoping to see you again someday,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="right2">"Your unhappy friend,</p>
+
+<p><span class="right3">"<span class="smcap">J. Heriot Walkingshaw.</span>"</span>
+</p></div>
+
+<p>The address was an hotel in Monte Video, and the date about two years
+before.</p>
+
+<p>"What&mdash;what's all this rigmarole?" gasped Andrew. "It's sheer nonsense
+from beginning to end."</p>
+
+<p>His unwelcome guest was again shaken with boyish laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"Prove it!" he cried. "Prove it's nonsense! Eh? How'll you manage that?"</p>
+
+<p>Andrew's face grew darker and darker.</p>
+
+<p>"Who does 'Harris' profess to be, I'd like to know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Grandson of Mrs. Harris!" laughed Heriot. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span></p><p>"What Mrs. Harris?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sarah Gamp's pal."</p>
+
+<p>"You are drunk," said Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>Heriot regarded him with portentous solemnity.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Harris was the kind gentleman who befriended my grandfather on his
+voyage to South America. He received afterwards many letters from your
+papa, Andrew; and very, very thoughtfully handed them to me. They prove,
+my boy, that you treated your parent outrageously. They prove that you
+must have been a shocking bad hat yourself. Some of them prove that your
+kind and forgiving parent is still alive at this moment; others prove
+that he expired under heart-rending circumstances six months ago; and I
+propose to use whichever alternative seems best&mdash;that's to say,
+whichever will flatten you out most effectively. And that's who Harris
+is."</p>
+
+<p>For some minutes Andrew studied the letter in silence. He felt like a
+heavy-weight boxer in the grip of a professor of Ju-Jitsu. What use was
+a lifelong apprenticeship to common sense, respectability, and the law
+of Scotland, when it came to wrestling with a juggler of this kind? he
+asked himself bitterly. One ought to have led a life of crime! The
+longer he looked at the preposterous <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span>epistle, the more diabolical did
+it appear. At last he spoke&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"This is an impudent forgery."</p>
+
+<p>"There are some hundreds of specimens of your father's hand to compare
+it with," said Heriot calmly; "I am perfectly willing to let any expert
+judge whether it's genuine or not."</p>
+
+<p>The heavy-weight tried another wriggle.</p>
+
+<p>"This is the letter of a lunatic. I have a certificate to prove it. I
+can call Dr. Downie to prove it."</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't go to so much trouble. You'll find that plot against my
+grandfather's liberty fully described in some of the letters. The point
+that will be put to you by the cross-examining Counsel is, if you
+thought him off his chump, why did you only pretend to put him in an
+asylum?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did put him," snapped Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>Heriot rose and rang the bell.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that for?" asked Andrew; but he was only answered by a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Show up the other two gentlemen," said Heriot.</p>
+
+<p>The discreet butler glanced at his master, but he was too dumbfounded to
+give any indication of his pleasure one way or the other. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span></p><p>A minute later, Frank and Lucas entered. They nodded coolly, but Andrew
+only stared.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Lucas, dear boy," said Heriot genially, "tell this old cockalorum
+who you saw off on a steamer for South America."</p>
+
+<p>Lucas smiled grimly at his brother-in-law to be.</p>
+
+<p>"Heriot Walkingshaw," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Swear to it?" smiled Heriot.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas nodded, his blue eyes glittering on Andrew all the time; and there
+followed a pause in the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you propose to do?" asked Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>"Make you disgorge, old cock," said Heriot.</p>
+
+<p>"Disgorge what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Every single penny you inherited!"</p>
+
+<p>Andrew made a last convulsive struggle.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll not do it!"</p>
+
+<p>"In that case, the following interesting facts will immediately be made
+public: that you lied when you said your father was in an asylum, and
+lied again when you said he was dead; that he suffered indescribable
+agonies in consequence of your ill-treatment; that he is either alive at
+this moment or died a death that will bring tears to the eyes of all
+Edinburgh; and that, in any case, you helped yourself to his fortune
+with precisely as much justification <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>as a burglar who opens a safe. The
+matter will then be placed in the hands of Thompson, Gilray, &amp; Young."</p>
+
+<p>This choice of a vindictive rival firm struck Andrew as the most
+diabolical artifice of all. His eyes blinked and his cheeks twitched;
+and when he spoke his voice reminded them painfully of the professional
+mendicant of the pavement.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you ruin me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ruin be hanged! Your wife has two thousand pounds a year, and you've
+got the lion's share of the business. But you've got to shell out every
+brass farthing you bagged from your poor dear father, and settle it in
+equal shares on Frank and Jean."</p>
+
+<p>Frank made a quick movement of gratitude and protest.</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up," said Heriot jovially. "You mind your own business, Frank.
+This is my shout."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Frank&mdash;" his brother began solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>"Andrew!" thundered Heriot, "if you make any miserable whining appeal to
+your brother, I'll tell Lucas to kick you. Are you ready, Lucas?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite," said the artist.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later the present head of Walkingshaw <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span>&amp; Gilliflower had
+appended his signature to the following document (the unaided
+composition of the late senior partner in the aforesaid firm):</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">"I, Andrew Walkingshaw, having the fear of this world and the next
+before my eyes, do hereby promise and swear that upon the morning
+following the above date of the month and year, at the hour of 10 a.m.,
+I shall formally, legally, and irrevocably settle in equal shares upon
+my brother and sister, Frank and Jean Walkingshaw, the whole estate,
+real and personal, of my revered father, except such portion of it
+inherited and enjoyed by my sisters Margaret Walkingshaw or Ramornie and
+Gertrude Walkingshaw or Donaldson, and my aunt Mary Walkingshaw. This I
+do for the following consideration: that through their kindness and
+charity my despicable, unsportsmanlike, and criminal conduct may never
+be revealed. I humbly and sorrowfully confess that I had my estimable
+father aforesaid certified as insane when I knew his brain to be
+considerably sounder than my own; that I did this in order to diddle him
+and my younger brother and sister out of their money; that instead of
+putting him under restraint, I exiled him furth of Great Britain and
+Ireland, so that he thereby <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span>suffered discomforts and torments for whose
+virulence I take his word; that I announced his death knowing him to be
+alive; and that I then in a criminal and shameful manner appropriated
+his estate to my own use. May all wicked and foolish men be laid by the
+heels as I have been, and may their relatives be as forgiving as mine!
+This paper I sign cheerfully and penitently."</div>
+
+<p>It was a pale and flabby-cheeked Writer to the Signet who laid down his
+pen after reading and signing this lucid document. He stalked solemnly
+to the door, and then with a chastened air addressed them&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"May Heaven forgive you."</p>
+
+<p>Thus in a blaze of appropriate piety the star of Andrew Walkingshaw set.
+There is small probability of his ever becoming an Example again. At
+present it is his arduous task to live down, by the austerity of his
+demeanor and the judicious expenditure of his wife's income, the
+suspicions connected with the apparition at his dinner party, and his
+subsequent act of inexplicable magnanimity in divesting himself of his
+fortune and handing it to his brother and sister. It is with the
+greatest regret that the editor of these few simple facts finds himself
+unable to cap with a suitable <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span>reward the career of well-principled
+respectability so unfortunately interrupted; but his obligations to the
+illogical truth are peremptory.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>"My dear old boys and jolly good sportsmen, and all the rest of it,"
+said Heriot jovially, "don't mention it&mdash;don't mention it. What can you
+do to show your dashed gratitude? There's only one thing; one blooming
+favor I ask of you: send me to a good public school!" </p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span></p>
+<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3>
+
+<p>The devious lane was filled with sunshine; the studio being lighted only
+from the north was filled instead with happiness. The same two sat
+there; but to-day she was no longer so demurely clad and all the aches
+and weariness were gone, and he no longer fumed.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this better than scrubbing the floor of a ward?" he smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Buying a trousseau is harder work than you realize, Lucas," she
+answered, with that touch of reproof by which all good women remind man
+gently but daily that it is her part to suffer, his to misunderstand.</p>
+
+<p>There followed a space of happy silence, and then she said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't I tell you that everything would come right if we waited?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he admitted, "that was one of your good guesses."</p>
+
+<p>She raised her delicate brows. </p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></p><p>"Aren't you happy <i>now</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"Good heavens! I should think so."</p>
+
+<p>"Then be more grateful, dear," she smiled.</p>
+
+<p>Rapturously he confessed he had erred, and was even sufficiently in love
+to think he perceived how.</p>
+
+<p>"I positively must go now," she said in a little, and, despite his
+protestations, rose.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we walk?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Haven't you a cab call?"</p>
+
+<p>"But you haven't been out of a hansom all day, and it's only ten
+minutes&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, bother the expense!" she cried. "I believe in being sensibly
+economical, but not in being <i>close</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Again he cheerfully accepted the gentle rebuke as the reproof his
+inconsistency deserved.</p>
+
+<p>And so off they whirled in a hansom.</p>
+
+<p>At that very same hour, far, far to the northward, the winter sun was
+struggling in gleams through the pine-tops and falling in patches on the
+moss. For an instant one patch lit the hat of straw and gentle face of
+Ellen Berstoun; and though it was but a small patch, it also lit a large
+tweed cap a few inches higher up. Beneath the cap a voice murmured&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span></p><p>"Ellen!"</p>
+
+<p>No more letters came to her now from India; and no longer she walked
+alone.</p>
+
+<p>These incidents occurred nearly three years ago. Since then Mr. and Mrs.
+Frank Walkingshaw and Mr. and Mrs. Lucas Vernon have grown into
+comparatively old married couples.</p>
+
+<p>As for the genial and sagacious author of their happiness, the latest
+report to hand informs the present editor that the name of James Heriot
+Walkingshaw stands first in the batting averages of a select preparatory
+school.</p>
+
+<h3>THE END</h3>
+
+<hr class="biggest" />
+
+<h3>Transcriber's Note's:</h3>
+
+<p>1. Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise,
+every effort has been made to remain true to the author's intent.</p>
+
+<p>2. A Table of Contents has been added to this etext version for the reader's convenience.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Prodigal Father, by J. Storer Clouston
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRODIGAL FATHER ***
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@@ -0,0 +1,9119 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prodigal Father, by J. Storer Clouston
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Prodigal Father
+
+Author: J. Storer Clouston
+
+Release Date: June 25, 2008 [EBook #25899]
+Last updated: March 2, 2009
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRODIGAL FATHER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  The
+  Prodigal Father
+
+  BY
+
+  J. STORER CLOUSTON
+
+  AUTHOR "THE LUNATIC AT LARGE,"
+  "A COUNTY FAMILY," ETC.
+
+  New York
+  The Century Co.
+  1909
+
+
+
+
+  Copyright, 1909, by
+  J. STORER CLOUSTON
+
+  _Published, September, 1909_
+
+  J. F. TAPLEY CO.
+  NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+     WITH GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENT TO AN UNKNOWN CORRESPONDENT WHO ONCE
+     MADE A CERTAIN SUGGESTION. IF HE READS THIS STORY HE PERHAPS WILL
+     REMEMBER
+
+                                   J. S. C.
+
+
+
+
+THE PRODIGAL FATHER
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTORY
+
+
+In one of the cable tramway cars which, at a reverential pace,
+perambulate the city of Edinburgh, two citizens conversed. The winds
+without blew gustily and filled the air with sounds like a stream in
+flood, the traffic clattered noisily over the causeway, the car itself
+thrummed and rattled; but the voices of the two were hushed. Said the
+one--
+
+"It's the most extraordinary thing ever I heard of."
+
+"It's all that," said the other; "in fact, it's pairfectly
+incomprehensible."
+
+"Mr. Walkingshaw of all people!"
+
+"Of Walkingshaw and Gilliflower--that's the thing that fair takes my
+breath away!" added the other; as though the firm was an even surer
+guarantee of respectability than the honored name of the senior partner.
+
+They shook their heads ominously. It was clear this was no ordinary
+portent they were discussing.
+
+"Do you think has he taken to--?"
+
+The first citizen finished his question by a crooking of his upturned
+little finger, one of those many delicate symbols by which the north
+Briton indicates a failing not uncommon in his climate.
+
+"It's a curious thing," replied his friend, "that I haven't heard that
+given as an explanation. Of course he's not a teetotaler--"
+
+"Oh, none ever insinuated that," put in the other, with the air of one
+who desired to do justice even to the most erring.
+
+"On the other hand, he's ay had the name of being one of the most
+respectable men in the town, just an example, they've always told me."
+
+"I knew him fine myself, in a business way, and that's just the
+expression I'd have used--an Example."
+
+"Respected by all."
+
+"An elder, and what not."
+
+"A fine business, he has."
+
+"His daughter married a Ramornie of Pettigrew."
+
+They shook their heads again, if possible more gravely than before.
+
+"He must be going off his head."
+
+"He must be gone, I'd say."
+
+"Yon speech he made was an outrage to common sense and decency!"
+
+"And about his son's marriage!"
+
+"That's Andrew Walkingshaw--his partner?"
+
+"Aye."
+
+"Oh, you've heard the story, then? I wonder is it true?"
+
+"I had it on the best authority."
+
+They pursed their lips solemnly.
+
+"The man's mad!"
+
+"But think of letting him loose to make a public exhibition of himself!
+It's an awfu' end to a respected career--in fact, it's positively
+discouraging."
+
+"You're right: you're right. If as respectable a liver as him ends that
+way--well, well!"
+
+In this strain and with such comments (exceedingly natural under the
+circumstances) did his fellow-citizens discuss the remarkable thing that
+befell Mr. Walkingshaw. And yet they could see only the outward symptoms
+or manifestations of this thing. Now that the full circumstances are
+made public, it will be generally conceded that few well-authenticated
+occurrences have ever at first sight seemed less probable. This has
+actually been advanced as an argument for their suppression; but since
+enough has already leaked out to whet the public curiosity, and indeed
+to lead to damaging misconceptions in a city so unused to phenomena
+other than meteorological, it is considered wisest that the unvarnished
+facts should be placed in the hands of a scrupulous editor and allowed
+to speak for themselves.
+
+
+
+
+PART I
+
+
+
+
+THE PRODIGAL FATHER
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+At a certain windy corner in the famous city of Edinburgh, a number of
+brass plates were affixed to the framework of a door. On the largest and
+brightest of them appeared the legend "Walkingshaw & Gilliflower, W.S.";
+and on no other sheet of brass in Scotland were more respectable names
+inscribed. For the benefit of the Sassenach and other foreigners, it may
+be explained that "W.S." is a condensation of "Writers to the Signet"--a
+species of beatified solicitor holding a position so esteemed, so
+enviable, and so intensely reputable that the only scandal previously
+whispered in connection with a member of this class proved innocently
+explicable upon the discovery that he was affianced to the lady's aunt.
+The building in which the firm had their office formed one end of an
+austere range of dark stone houses overlooking a street paved with cubes
+of granite and confronted by a precisely similar line of houses on the
+farther side. The whole sloped somewhat steeply down a hill, up which
+and down which a stimulating breeze careered and eddied during three
+hundred days of the year. Had you thrust your head out of the office
+windows and looked down the street, you could have seen, generally
+beneath a gray sky and through a haze of smoke, an inspiring glimpse of
+distant sea with yet more distant hills beyond. But Mr. Walkingshaw had
+no time for looking gratis out of his window to see unprofitable views.
+The gray street had been the background to nearly fifty years of
+dignified labor on behalf of the most respectable clients.
+
+His full name was James Heriot Walkingshaw, but it had been early
+recognized that "James" was too brief a designation and "Jimmie" too
+trivial for one of his parts and presence, and so he was universally
+known as Heriot Walkingshaw. His antecedents were as respectable as his
+clients. One of his eight great-great-grandfathers owned a landed estate
+in the county of Peebles, one of his maternal uncles was a theological
+professor in the University of Aberdeen, and his father before him had
+been a W.S. Young Heriot himself was brought up on porridge, the tawse,
+the Shorter Catechism, and an allowance of five shillings a week. His
+parents were both prudent and pious. Throughout such portions of the
+Sabbath as they did not spend with their offspring in their pew, they
+kept them indoors behind drawn blinds. His mother kissed young Heriot
+seldom and severely (with a cold smack like a hailstone), and never
+permitted him to remain ten minutes in the same room with a housemaid
+unchaperoned. His father never allowed him to sleep under more than two
+blankets, and locked the front door at nine o'clock in summer and six in
+winter.
+
+The supreme merit of this system in insuring the survival of the fittest
+was seen in its results. Heriot's elder brother passed away at the age
+of two in the course of a severe winter. Clearly he would never have
+been a credit to oatmeal. His younger brother broke loose at nineteen,
+pained his relatives exceedingly, and retired to a distant colony where
+the standard was lower. His name was never mentioned till at his decease
+it was found that he had left L30,000 to be divided among the survivors
+of the ordeal. And finally, here was Heriot, a credit to his parents,
+his porridge, and his Catechism--in a word, an Example.
+
+One damp February morning, Mr. Walkingshaw, accompanied as usual by his
+eldest son, set forth from his decorous residence. It was one of a
+circle of stately houses, broken in two or three places to permit the
+sedatest kind of street to enter. The grave dignity of these mansions
+was accentuated by the straight, deep-hewn furrows at the junctions of
+the vast rectangular stones, and by the pediment and fluted pillars
+which every here and there gave one of them the appearance of a Greek
+temple dedicated to some chaste goddess. In the midst, a round,
+railed-in garden was full of lofty trees, very upright and dark, like
+monuments to the distinguished inhabitants.
+
+Just as Mr. Walkingshaw and his son had got down the steps and reached
+the pavement, the door opened again behind them and a figure appeared
+which seemed to light the dull February morning with a ray of something
+like sunshine. Her dress was a warm golden brown; her face clear-skinned
+and fresh-colored, with bright eyes, a straight little nose, and, at
+that moment, eager, parted lips; her hair a coil of curling gold; her
+age nineteen.
+
+"Father!" she cried, "you've forgotten your muffler!"
+
+"Tut, tuts," muttered Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+He stopped and let her wind the muffler round his neck, while his son
+regarded the performance with a curiously captious eye.
+
+"Thanks, Jean," said Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+He threw the girl a brief nod, and the two resumed their walk. Jean
+stood for a minute on the steps with a smile half formed upon her lips,
+as though she were prepared to wave them a farewell; but neither man
+looked back, and the smile died away, the door closed behind her, and
+the morning became as raw as ever.
+
+For a few minutes father and son walked together in silence. In Andrew's
+eye lurked the same suggestion of criticism, and in his parent's some
+consciousness of this and not a little consequent irritation. They were
+the same height--just under six feet--and there was a decided
+resemblance between Mr. Walkingshaw's portly gait and Andrew's dignified
+carriage, but otherwise they were not much alike. The father had a large
+and open countenance, very ruddy and fringed with the most respectable
+white whiskers; and something ample in his voice and eye and manner
+accorded with it admirably. Andrew's face also was full, but rather in
+places than comprehensively. The chief places were his cheeks and upper
+lip. This lip was perhaps his most striking characteristic. It was both
+full and long, meeting his cheeks at either end in a little dimple, and
+protruding above the lower lip. Beneath it his chin sloped sharply back
+and then abruptly shot forward again in the shape of a round aggressive
+little ball. His eye was cold and gray, his hair dark, his age
+six-and-thirty, and for the last few years he had been his father's
+partner. He was the first to break the silence.
+
+"Why you don't see a respectable doctor, I can't imagine," said he.
+
+"I went to Mackenzie. I went to Grant," replied Mr. Walkingshaw shortly.
+"A lot of good either of them did my gout!"
+
+"Gout!" said Andrew. "And have you exchanged that for anything better?
+You ought to have stayed in bed to-day. I wonder you ventured out in the
+state that man's got you into."
+
+The words might conceivably be taken to represent a very natural filial
+anxiety, but the voice was reminiscent of the consolation of Job. Mr.
+Walkingshaw had always been able to inspire his children with a respect
+so profound that it was a little difficult at times to distinguish it
+from awe. Even Andrew when he became his partner had not lost the
+attitude. But to-day his father accepted the rebuke without a murmur. In
+a moment the hard Scotch voice smote again--
+
+"The idea of a man in your position going to an infernal quack like
+Professor Cyrus! Professor? Humph! The man's killing you."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw's ruddy face grew redder. The standard of common sense
+is high in Scotland; the humiliation in being taken in profound; the
+respect for the professional orthodoxies intense. And he had been the
+protagonist of everything sensible, orthodox, and prudent! He felt like
+a constable caught in the pantry.
+
+"Cyrus is a man of remarkable--ah--ideas. He assures me I shall see the
+beneficial effects soon. Patience--patience; that is what he says.
+I--ah--have probably only caught a little chill. I believe in Cyrus,
+Andrew, I believe in him."
+
+Andrew received the explanation with outward respect. His father's eye
+had become formidable; but in silence his own expressed his opinion of
+this paltry defense. Presently he inquired--
+
+"Would you like people to know who you're going to?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw started.
+
+"I'll trouble other folks to mind their own business," he said sharply;
+yet he cast an uncomfortable glance at his son.
+
+"Oh, I'm not anxious they should know my family's escapades," said
+Andrew reassuringly.
+
+But his gray eye had now a triumphant gleam, and his father realized he
+had no case left to go before the court. If people were to know--well,
+he would certainly be a less shining example. Mr. Walkingshaw of
+Walkingshaw and Gilliflower in the hands of a quack doctor! It would
+sound awful bad--awful bad. Little did he dream what people would be
+saying of that reputable Writer to the Signet three months later.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Business happened to be slack that afternoon, and at the early hour of
+four o'clock Mr. Walkingshaw resumed his overcoat and muffler. As Mr.
+Thomieson, his confidential clerk, decorously tucked the scarf beneath
+the velvet collar, he offered a word or two of respectful sympathy.
+
+"Far the wisest thing to go home, sir. But will you not take a cab? It's
+an awful like day to be out with a chill on ye."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw perceived his junior partner gazing on him in severe
+silence, and defiantly decided to walk. Yet as he paced homewards he
+could not but admit, in the unquiet recesses of his own mind, that it
+certainly was an odd sort of chill. He felt--well, he found it hard to
+tell exactly how he felt--rather as though he had swallowed some ounces
+of quicksilver which kept flashing and running about inside him with
+every step he took. Suppose Cyrus's wonderful new system were actually
+to prove dangerous to the constitution, possibly even to the life, of
+his august, confiding patron? You could not always know your luck,
+however deserving you might be. The tower of Siloam fell both upon the
+righteous and the unrighteous. What would people say if Professor Cyrus
+metaphorically fell on him? Heriot Walkingshaw had more at stake than
+mere existence. He had a character to lose.
+
+The sight of his house, so dignified and so permanent, soothed him a
+little. As he hung his coat upon the substantial rack in the dark and
+spacious hall, he was soothed still further. Ascending to his
+drawing-room, the thick carpet underfoot completed his tranquillity.
+Surely nothing disconcerting could happen to a man who owned such a
+house as this. But alas! regrettable episodes have a habit, like migrant
+birds, of arriving in companies.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+Mrs. Walkingshaw had been dead for many years, and in her stead Heriot's
+maiden sister, a thin, elderly lady of exemplary views and conduct,
+ruled her household. As her brother ruled her, he found the arrangement
+worked admirably.
+
+"Are you not coming out with me in the carriage?" said she to her niece
+that afternoon.
+
+Jean excused herself. She had letters she positively must write; and so
+the two tall horses pranced off, bearing in the very large and very
+shiny carriage only the exemplary lady. As she heard them clatter off
+over the resounding granite, Jean gave a little skip. Her eyes danced
+too and her lips smiled mysteriously. She ran upstairs like a whirlwind
+and had the drawing-room door shut behind her before she paused. Only
+then did she seem to feel safely alone and not in the carriage shopping.
+The room was very long, and very wide, and immensely high, with three
+tall windows down one side and substantial furniture purchased in the
+heyday of the Victorian epoch. The slim, fair-haired figure was quite
+lost in the space considered suitable by an early nineteenth-century
+architect for the accommodation of a Scottish lady; and the fire made
+much more of a display, glowing in the gloom of that raw February
+afternoon.
+
+Jean sat by a little writing-table and took up a pen. Then she waited,
+evidently for ideas to come. Ten minutes later they arrived. The door
+was softly opened, a voice respectably subdued announced the name of
+"Mr. Vernon," and the duties of the pen were over.
+
+The gentleman who entered made a remarkable contrast to the sedate
+upholstery. He had a mop of brown hair upon a large and well-shaped
+head, a broad face with rugged, striking features, very bright blue
+eyes, a dashing cavalier mustache, and a most engaging smile. His
+clothes were light of hue and very loose, his figure was of medium
+height and strongly built, his collar wide open at the neck, and his tie
+a large silk butterfly of an artistic shade of brown. Altogether he was
+a most improbable person to find calling upon a daughter of Mr. Heriot
+Walkingshaw.
+
+He gave Jean's hand the grasp of a friend, but his eyes looked on her
+with a more than friendly light in them. When he spoke, his voice was
+as pleasant as his smile, and his accents were those of that portion of
+Britain not yet entirely occupied by the victors of Bannockburn.
+
+"It's very good of you to stay in," he said.
+
+"Oh, I wasn't going out in any case," said Jean demurely.
+
+She seated herself in one corner of the sofa, and the young man, after
+hesitating for an instant between a seat by her side and a chair close
+by, and failing to catch her eye to guide him, chose the chair, and for
+the moment looked unhappy.
+
+"I've come to say good-by," he began.
+
+She looked up quickly.
+
+"Are you going away?"
+
+He nodded his brown mop.
+
+"Yes, I'm off to London again."
+
+"For good?"
+
+"I hope so; anyhow, it can't be for much worse than I've done here."
+
+"Haven't your pictures been--been appreciated here?" she asked.
+
+"They haven't been sold," he said, with a short laugh.
+
+"What a shame! Oh, Mr. Vernon, I do think people might have had better
+taste."
+
+"So do I," he smiled, "but they haven't had. I've made nothing here but
+friends."
+
+He had a musical voice, rather deep, and very readily expressive of what
+he strongly felt. His last sentence rang in Jean's ears like a
+declaration of love. Her eyes fell and her color rose.
+
+"We have all been very glad to see you."
+
+He shook his head; his eyes fastened on her all the time.
+
+"No, you haven't."
+
+She looked up, but meeting that devouring gaze, looked down again.
+
+"Not all of you," he added. "Your father disapproves of me, your eldest
+brother detests me, and your aunt distrusts me. It's only you and Frank
+who have been my friends."
+
+Frank was her soldier brother, and Jean adored him. She thought she
+could never care for any one but a soldier, till she encountered art and
+Lucas Vernon.
+
+"Yes, Frank certainly does like you very much indeed," she said warmly.
+
+"Don't you?"
+
+"Yes," she answered firmly.
+
+He smiled and bent towards her.
+
+"Your hand on it!"
+
+She held out her hand, and he took it and kept it.
+
+(At that moment Mr. Walkingshaw was opening his front door.)
+
+For a minute they sat in silence, and then she tried gently to draw the
+hand away.
+
+"Let me keep it for a little!" he pleaded. "I'm going away. I shan't
+hold it again for Heaven knows how long."
+
+His voice was so caressing that she ceased to grudge him five small
+fingers.
+
+(Mr. Walkingshaw had removed his muffler and was hanging up his coat.)
+
+"Are you at all sorry I'm going?"
+
+"Yes," murmured Jean, "Frank and I--we'll both miss you."
+
+The artist murmured too, but very indistinctly. The idea he expressed
+thus inadequately was, "Hang Frank!" But she heard the next word too
+plainly for her self-possession.
+
+"Jean!"
+
+(Mr. Walkingshaw was now ascending his well-carpeted staircase.)
+
+She gave him one glance which she meant for reproof; but when he saw her
+eyes, so loving and a little moist, he covered the short space between
+them with one movement, and was on his knees before her.
+
+"Do you love me?" he whispered.
+
+Her head bent over his, and she answered very faintly something like
+"Yes."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw entered his drawing-room.
+
+For a moment there was a painful pause. Jean's face had turned a
+becoming shade of crimson, and the artist was on his feet. Naturally the
+woman spoke first.
+
+"I--I didn't expect you back so soon, father."
+
+"So I perceive," said Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+The young man turned to him with creditable composure.
+
+"One can hardly judge of the effect in this light," said he.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw had heard of people becoming insane under the stress of
+a sudden shock, and he wondered uneasily whether this misfortune had
+befallen Lucas Vernon or himself. The artist perceived his success, and
+hope began to rise afresh. He cocked his head professionally on one side
+and examined the confounded girl.
+
+"We must try the pose in my studio."
+
+Jean also saw the dawn of hope.
+
+"May I inquire what you are talking about?" demanded her father.
+
+"Miss Walkingshaw has promised to sit to me for her portrait,"
+explained the artist. "We were trying one or two positions."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw breathed somewhat heavily, but said nothing. Jean's
+color began to subside.
+
+"Mr. Vernon was arranging my hands," she contributed towards his
+enlightenment.
+
+Mr. Vernon was now gazing on her in the attitude which he had learnt
+from plays and poems conveyed to the laity the best conception of
+artistic fervor.
+
+"The head a little more to the right!" he exclaimed. "The hands crossed!
+A smile, please! Now, sir, how do you like that?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw ignored the question altogether and addressed his
+daughter.
+
+"If Mr. Vernon can give any reasons why he should paint your portrait, I
+think he had better give them to me before the matter goes further."
+
+His formidable eye supplied the addendum, "And you leave the room!"
+
+She obeyed, and the painter was left with this singularly favorable
+opportunity of obtaining a commission at last.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+"Well, sir?" said Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+Lucas was unused to the subtleties of diplomacy, but it seemed to him an
+evident case for tact.
+
+"What do you think about it yourself?" he began cautiously.
+
+"I think," replied the W.S., "that you'd be better back in England."
+
+His eye again spoke for him, and this time it said, "There is no further
+use in attempting to deceive me."
+
+The artist took the hint. His strong, pleasant face became a mirror
+reflecting the very truth; his blue eyes were filled with a light
+brighter even than the inspiration of art; his mellow voice burst out
+abruptly--
+
+"I love Jean!"
+
+The effect was rather like discharging a cannon and bringing down a
+scrap of plaster.
+
+"Oh, indeed," said Mr. Walkingshaw. "You mean my daughter?"
+
+"I should think I do!"
+
+"I merely asked for information, Mr. Vernon."
+
+"Then I can guarantee your information!" Lucas smiled frankly, but he
+might as well have smiled at the hat-rack in the hall. "I'm quite aware
+you don't think me good enough for her--and I agree with you. But if it
+comes to that, who is? You may say my name's neither Turner nor Rubens;
+you may think it's like my dashed impudence asking you to let me make a
+short cut to heaven across your hearth--"
+
+It was at this point that Mr. Walkingshaw discharged his ordnance.
+
+"What is your income?" he inquired coldly.
+
+His aim was more accurate. The artist descended to earth with a thud.
+
+"My _income_?" he gasped.
+
+"Your income," repeated the bombardier.
+
+The artist ran his fingers convulsively through his hair.
+
+"Now, what the deuce should I put it at?"
+
+"An approximately correct figure," suggested Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+"To tell you the truth, I haven't the least idea."
+
+"A thousand?"
+
+"Oh, good God, no!"
+
+"A hundred?"
+
+"Oh, more than that."
+
+"Can't you suggest a figure yourself?"
+
+"Well, let's say that in a good year I make anything up to three or four
+hundred pounds, and in a bad year anything down to fifty or sixty."
+
+"We'll say that if you like. Do you expect any legacies to fall in to
+you--anything of that kind?"
+
+"Unfortunately I don't."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw regarded him with contemptuous severity.
+
+"Then you propose to marry my daughter on maybe fifty or sixty pounds a
+year?"
+
+"I told you that was in a bad year," protested the artist.
+
+"Thank you, but I don't want any of your fluctuating incomes for my
+girl. I don't care if you earned ten thousand pounds this year. So
+long as you can't guarantee that to last, you're no better than a
+speculator--a hand-to-mouth, don't-know-where-you-are-to-morrow sort of
+person. Now, that sort of thing _won't do_, Mr. Vernon. Before you next
+think of marrying a girl in my daughter's position, let me give you this
+bit of advice: learn to paint your pictures on some kind of proper
+business principles. If you do them, say, once a month and sell them at
+a standard price--just as other folks have to manufacture and sell their
+goods--you'll not find yourself in the same ridiculous position you're
+in at this moment."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw rose to indicate that the interview was at an end; but
+the artist's endurance ended first.
+
+"Mr. Walkingshaw! Did you ever _make_ anything in your life?"
+
+The W.S. stared at him.
+
+"I have made most of what I possess, sir."
+
+"Pooh! You're talking of money. Does your mind never run on anything
+but money? I mean, have you ever made a hat or a shoe, or a book or a
+picture, or even a cheese? Have you ever actually turned out anything
+that was the least use or pleasure to anybody?"
+
+Vernon's blue eyes were bent upon him in such an extraordinarily intense
+and flashing manner that Mr. Walkingshaw found himself compelled to
+answer.
+
+"That kind of thing is--ah--not in my line."
+
+"Then," burst forth the artist, "you can no more judge of my work than
+a toasting-fork can judge of a steam engine. The woman who cooks your
+dinner understands more than you do. She knows better than to think it
+costs no more time and trouble to cook an omelette than boil an egg.
+A picture a month, and the same price for each! Confound it, Mr.
+Walkingshaw, you make me ashamed of you!"
+
+"Do you imagine, sir, that that affects me?"
+
+"If I were you, I'd prefer my son-in-law to respect me."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw positively jumped.
+
+"You mean to--er--"
+
+"Marry her, whether you like it or not! I'm in love--and she loves me!
+There's not the least use trying to explain to you what love means. It
+would be like trying to explain a cigar to a chicken. You're too
+respectable. You can't understand."
+
+The tirade ceased abruptly, and the young man smiled again upon the
+petrified Writer to the Signet.
+
+"I am going back to London to-night. Just give me a year or two, Mr.
+Walkingshaw. I'll make an income for her."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw regained his senses.
+
+"You will never be admitted inside this house in your life again, sir.
+You will never marry _my_ daughter; and mind you, you needn't flatter
+yourself she will correspond with you or anything of that kind. My
+children have been decently brought up. What I say is done; and what I
+say shan't be done, is not done!"
+
+He had recovered his formidableness now, and the artist's face fell. For
+a moment he looked gloomily at his father-in-law elect, and then he
+turned for the door.
+
+"We shall see," he said.
+
+"You shall not see _her_ again," retorted Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+The door slammed behind art and love and impracticability, and he stood
+in his vast drawing-room alone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+It is a pleasant and an edifying thing to contrast the difference
+between the fates of the reputable and the Bohemian even in the lists of
+love. Clearly these matters are managed by some scrupulously equitable
+power. One hesitates to dub it Providence for fear of seeming
+sentimental, but one may safely describe it as something almost as wise
+and decidedly more respectable. Here was Lucas Vernon, without a settled
+income or any very coherent notion of how to make one, dismissed the
+house of the girl he was foolish enough to love. There, on the other
+hand, was Andrew Walkingshaw, who had first devoted himself to amassing
+and investing a handsome competence, and then, without any further
+difficulty to speak of, had selected and secured one of the most
+charming girls imaginable. In every respect but one he had chosen
+obviously well. She was fair to see, and hence very gratifying to be
+seen with; she was quite young, and therefore amenable and not too
+sophisticated; and she came of so excellent and ancient a family that
+it was a pleasure merely to mention the name of his prospective
+father-in-law to his envious acquaintances. Archibald Berstoun, Esq., of
+that ilk, was the style in which that gentleman preferred to have
+correspondence addressed to him, accepting Berstoun of Berstoun as a
+less satisfactory alternative, and answering very briefly letters to
+plain Archibald Berstoun, Esq.
+
+The only drawback to Ellen Berstoun was her father's unfortunate
+financial position. Andrew had to take her without a penny; but then, on
+the other hand, he might not have got her at all had her parents the
+wherewithal to display her charms in London ballrooms. Also, Archibald
+of that ilk might have looked for a showier mate for her under more
+prosperous circumstances. As it was, her parents spent a strenuous
+fortnight in persuading her to accept so excellent an opportunity of
+reducing their supply of marriageable daughters to the more reasonable
+number of five, and the approval of their creditors was practically
+unanimous.
+
+They had been engaged for a month, when, upon that same afternoon, she
+arrived on a short visit to the Walkingshaw's house. Andrew would have
+met her at the station had her train arrived only twenty minutes later,
+but it was one of the most admirable features in his character that he
+made a point of never on any pretext leaving the office before the hour
+had struck. Frank, however, showed remarkable alacrity in offering
+himself as substitute. So zealous and obliging a brother was he that he
+started for the station with half an hour to spare, and whiled away a
+portion of that time in purchasing a bouquet of flowers and a very
+ornamental box of chocolates.
+
+Holding the chocolate-box and his umbrella under one arm and the bouquet
+in his other hand, this best of brothers paced that eligible promenade,
+the platform of the Haymarket station. People, especially women, glanced
+at him with approval as the erect, military young figure passed and
+repassed on his vigil, marching as though on parade. He was twenty-five,
+bronzed of skin, well-featured, trimly mustached, modest and yet gallant
+of mien, attired in an overcoat drawn in at the waist and a hat
+becomingly cocked a little towards his left ear--in a word, a credit to
+that distinguished corps, the Cromarty Highlanders. At present they were
+in India, and he was home on furlough.
+
+Sometimes his clear young eyes looked disconsolately into space,
+as though the saddest thoughts afflicted him; and then they would
+brighten with a sudden excitement. As these brightenings almost
+invariably coincided with the first rumbling of a train far down the
+line that glimmered beneath red lamps and green, leading from the north
+out of the gathered dusk, it seemed as though the cheering prospect came
+from thence. This probability would appear to be increased by the
+disappearance of the excitement when the train proved to come from
+some locality of no interest whatsoever. An observant female in glasses
+and a golf cape, who entertained herself by furtively studying this
+agreeable-looking stranger, smiled knowingly at each of these
+manifestations: _she_ knew whom he was waiting for, even without the
+palpable evidence of the bouquet and chocolate-box, and the only thing
+that puzzled her was why he should have these very mournful lapses. A
+secret grief seemed inappropriate both to the gentleman and the obvious
+situation. But how could she guess that she was merely witnessing an
+accentuated variety of the pleasure with which any good brother looks
+forward to meeting his future sister-in-law at the end of a cold
+journey?
+
+"Yon's her noo," said a porter to whom the young officer addressed a
+question for the fourteenth time.
+
+The north line runs for a long way very straight just there, and Frank
+could see the two round glows far off in the darkness grow larger and
+larger, brighter and brighter, with the furnace-lit smoke streaming ever
+more brilliantly above, till the shape of a great engine started out,
+thundering close upon him. And then the observant female was gratified
+by a glimpse of a slender girl, rather tall, smiling very kindly as the
+interesting unknown handed her down from her carriage and placed the
+flowers in her small gray glove. Her hair was dark; she wore handsome
+furs; she left the entire charge of her luggage to her escort, like a
+lady accustomed to be waited on; she moved down the platform with a
+graceful air of distinction, and as she passed close by, the observant
+female's heart was won by the sweet and innocent expression on her face.
+She thought them one of the nicest-looking couples she had ever seen.
+
+Meanwhile, the man whose virtues had earned this charming girl, and
+whose high position could command the services of a Highland subaltern
+to do his station work for him, was dictating a letter to his
+typewriter.
+
+But when Andrew sat down to dinner beside the lady of his choice, and
+felt that at last he could conscientiously lay aside the serious
+business of life for a little dalliance with the fruits of his industry,
+it was pleasant to see with what happy mingling of pride and calm he
+accepted his good fortune. He conveyed that suggestion of having put the
+lady in his pocket from the moment she whispered "Yes," and kept her
+there among his keys as a valued, yet not foolishly over-valued,
+possession, which is so virile a characteristic of the thoroughly
+successful man. Now he was taking her out to have a look at her, and
+incidentally--as it were, unconsciously--exhibit his trophy to the
+company. As for Ellen Berstoun, she looked so kind, so delicately
+radiant, so gently bred, and so anxious to give pleasure, that she made
+just the contrast to her dominating betrothed that sensible people
+believe in. Here, they would tell you, was a match made in a more
+practicable place than heaven.
+
+The rest of the company at dinner consisted of Mr. Walkingshaw,
+evidently proud of his future daughter-in-law, yet singularly silent and
+abstracted; Miss Walkingshaw, very erect at the end of the table; Jean,
+very downcast, poor girl (yet did she not deserve to be?); Frank,
+looking for some reason considerably less happy than when he handed
+Miss Berstoun out of her carriage; and Mrs. Dunbar. Madge Dunbar was a
+second cousin, and the widow of Captain Dunbar of Hammersmith's Horse,
+who was killed at Paardeberg. She was left with no children, a very
+small income, and a number of relatives occupying excellent stations in
+life. With one or other of these she generally stayed, but latterly had
+shown a decided preference for the hospitality of Mr. Walkingshaw. In
+fact, she had already been with them for three months, and as Mr.
+Walkingshaw was always very emphatic in his refusals to let her think of
+leaving, and remarkably gracious on every occasion on which they were
+seen in company, while his sister declared her to be one of the best
+women she knew, acquaintances had begun to exchange whispers. She was
+forty-five, full-figured, though not yet precisely stout, dark-eyed, and
+irreproachably dressed. She was also irreproachably diplomatic.
+
+Champagne was drunk in honor of Miss Berstoun, and as being the beverage
+most suitable to her pedigree (though, as a matter of fact, she had only
+tasted it twice before, since Archibald of that ilk confined himself to
+whisky, and his wife to dandelion porter). As the butler passed behind
+Mr. Walkingshaw's chair, his master arrested him by pointing to his
+glass. The vigilant Andrew bent forward in his seat.
+
+"Are you giving the system up?" he inquired, with his cross-examining
+smile.
+
+"I feel that a glass of wine would do me good to-night," his father
+replied with dignity.
+
+"Oh, I'm so glad to see you enjoying yourself again, Heriot!" smiled
+Mrs. Dunbar.
+
+"Thank you. Thank you, Madge," said he, and made a little courteously
+old-fashioned indication that he drank to her health.
+
+The lady in a sprightly fashion returned his toast, and the junior
+partner frowned. He disapproved of Mrs. Dunbar, he strongly suspected
+her of ulterior designs, and he regarded the adoption of Christian names
+by second cousins as superfluous, and in the circumstances a little
+indecorous. His long upper lip grew longer as he addressed his relative.
+
+"I was under the impression it was you who encouraged him to go in for
+this so-called system."
+
+"Oh, but it's possible to overdo everything, you know," said the lady,
+with a smile whose sweetness he inwardly decided to be compounded of
+some base imitation of sugar. "Don't you agree with me, Heriot?"
+
+"Absolutely," pronounced her host, with emphasis.
+
+So passionate a lover naturally regretted parting even for a moment from
+his betrothed, yet under the circumstances Andrew felt decidedly
+relieved when the ladies left the room, and the three Walkingshaw men
+drew together at the end of the table. His father passed the port to his
+sons and then helped himself. Andrew frowned again: he believed in never
+neglecting an opportunity for salutary criticism.
+
+"Oh, you're going to take port too?"
+
+"I am," said Mr. Walkingshaw, and drinking his glass straight off,
+filled it afresh.
+
+Andrew drew down the corners of his lips, raised his eyebrows, and
+glanced across at his brother; but Frank was staring abstractedly at the
+tablecloth.
+
+The second glass seemed to revive their father. He smacked his lips over
+it with something of his old gusto, threw out his chest, frowned
+formidably, yet with a certain complacency, and said--
+
+"I've had to perform an unpleasant duty this afternoon, Andrew."
+
+Andrew pricked up his ears and looked sternly expectant. Yet on neither
+of them did the idea of an unpleasant duty seem to have a saddening
+effect.
+
+"That fellow Vernon has been making love to Jean. I ordered him out of
+the house. He's off to London again, I'm thankful to say."
+
+"Upon my word!" said Andrew.
+
+He looked as though he had been told of the attempted assassination of
+the President of the Court of Session. But on Frank the news produced
+quite a different effect. He started out of his reverie and exclaimed--
+
+"You ordered him out? Poor Jean!"
+
+The two older and wiser men turned upon him together.
+
+"Yes, sir," said his father, "I did order him out. It would have been
+'poor Jean' if I hadn't."
+
+"I'd have kicked him downstairs!" said Andrew.
+
+"You'd have had a devilish thin time if you'd tried," retorted his
+brother. "Vernon could take you across his knee. He's a good fellow--a
+deuced good fellow; he'd have made Jean a deuced good husband. Kick him
+downstairs? By Gad, you'd have squealed when the kicking began!"
+
+He addressed himself entirely to his brother, though he had done no more
+than approve of the exiling of Lucas, and he spoke with a curious
+bitterness. Mr. Walkingshaw struck the table with his fist, not
+passionately, in any disorder of mind, but sternly and effectively.
+
+"Hold your tongue," he said, and kept his eyes on him to see that he
+held it.
+
+Frank rose.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he said to his father, and, not looking again at
+his brother, walked out of the room.
+
+The two wiser heads, being then left undisturbed by the follies of
+youth, discussed at length and in complete accord the outrageous episode
+of the afternoon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+Frank strode hurriedly across the hall, flung into the library, and
+there relieved his feelings by a few crisp expletives. Gloom succeeded
+anger, but after a few minutes youth began to prevail even over these
+high emotions. He turned up the light, adjusted his tie and smoothed his
+hair before the mirror over the mantelpiece, and ran upstairs to the
+drawing-room. Outside the door he paused, looking now like the expectant
+watcher on the platform. Faintly he heard Ellen Berstoun's voice, and
+the same look came into his eyes as when he caught the distant roaring
+of the train. He straightened his neck, banished all expression from his
+face as a soldier should, and entered the room.
+
+It is generally conceded by such as have enjoyed the privilege of
+sitting in a drawing-room waiting for the gentlemen to lay down their
+cigars that no period of the day is more immune from the bustle and
+turmoil of modern life. But the peace of an ordinary drawing-room was a
+bank holiday compared with the Walkingshaws'. Not too much gas was
+burned, or too much coal, since money is not made and well-born wives
+secured by waste of fuel. That leads to mere cheerfulness. The monastic
+atmosphere was completed by the Victorian upholstery and the hushed
+voices of the four ladies, so that even the young soldier instinctively
+trod more like a burglar than a Cromarty Highlander as he advanced
+towards one of the groups of two.
+
+Near the fireplace sat Miss Walkingshaw and Mrs. Dunbar engaged on
+fancy-work, and occasionally murmuring references to "my last
+cook"--"that tall girl Jane." But it was not they that Frank approached.
+On two chairs very close together and far removed from the others, Jean
+and Ellen talked. Their voices, too, were hushed, but the subject of
+their conversation was evidently more agitating than cooks. In fact,
+there was something very like a sob more than once in Jean's voice, and
+Ellen held her hand and gently pressed it. But when poor Jean saw her
+favorite brother coming towards her with a warm sympathy in his eyes
+that told her he knew her trouble, she could control herself no longer.
+Up she jumped, and throwing him one wry, tearful smile as she passed,
+ran out of the room.
+
+The two elder ladies looked up and then down again at their work. They
+had not yet heard of the painful episode. Frank came forward and took
+his sister's chair, which had been drawn so very close to Ellen's. He
+was thus able, by exercising caution, to take up the confidential
+conversation.
+
+"I suppose she has told you?" he muttered, with a wary glance towards
+his aunt.
+
+"Yes," murmured Ellen. "I'm so sorry!"
+
+She looked nearly as distressed as Jean, and her gentle voice made her
+words sound like a sweet lament for all unhappy loves.
+
+"I call it the deuce of a shame!" said the soldier.
+
+"Can't we do anything to persuade your father?"
+
+He was conscious of a little glow at being adopted so instinctively as
+an ally.
+
+"I've told him what I think about it."
+
+"Have you?"--there was a sparkle in her eyes.--"How good of you! What
+did he say?"
+
+"Told me to hold my tongue."
+
+Her face fell.
+
+"I must talk to Andrew about it."
+
+Frank smiled sardonically.
+
+"I'm afraid you won't find him very sympathetic either."
+
+She looked down at her little pointed shoe and said nothing.
+
+"Who isn't very sympathetic, Frank?" asked Miss Walkingshaw, suddenly
+looking up.
+
+He started guiltily.
+
+"Oh--er--a lot of fellows one can think of," he explained.
+
+Mrs. Dunbar looked at the two young people curiously. She knew whom she
+herself did not consider sympathetic, and jumped to a conclusion. There
+was nothing the junior partner would dislike more than being critically
+discussed by that dear girl who was so much too nice for him, and that
+engaging boy who was so infinitely better-looking. It seemed a pity they
+could not enjoy their conversation without interruption.
+
+"Would you like me to play you something, dear?" she asked.
+
+"Oh yes, dear," said Miss Walkingshaw. "Do, please!"
+
+They were the most affectionate of friends. Indeed, it was touching to
+see how devoted Madge was to Heriot's wintry sister. Nobody else had
+ever seen so much in her to love.
+
+The music began, and, once started, showed no sign of stopping. Over the
+top of her music Mrs. Dunbar's black eyes smiled a discreet approval of
+the confidential pair. She only wished that Andrew, gagged and bound
+beneath his brother's chair, was here to listen to them. She was sure
+they must be discussing something it would do him good to hear.
+
+"Is Mr. Vernon a very nice man?" asked Ellen.
+
+"One of the best. These artist fellows are apt to be a bit
+swollen-headed for my taste, but Lucas Vernon's a sportsman."
+
+She appreciated the distinction succinctly indicated.
+
+"He does sound nice," she said. "Oh, I wish everybody had enough money!"
+
+Frank drew another distinction.
+
+"Everybody who deserved it, anyhow."
+
+"Well," said Ellen softly, "if I had the arrangement of things, I would
+risk it and give _everybody_ enough. It makes me so unhappy to see
+people longing for things they can never possibly get--whether they
+deserve them or not."
+
+The young soldier looked at her oddly from the corner of his eye. Could
+it be possible that two people could sit so close together and speak in
+such hushed confidence, and yet that one of them could be so strangely
+oblivious as not to know when she had laid her slender little finger on
+the other's open wound? He had the strictest notions of duty and of
+honor: it was absolutely essential she never should realize: but, alas!
+the sympathetic widow was playing the most divinely romantic waltz. To
+complete the horrible temptation, Ellen looked suddenly at him with her
+tender eyes shining and her delicate skin gently flushed and murmured--
+
+"It makes me wretched--I pity them so!"
+
+The waltz grew more romantic with every note, the temptation to feel
+this pity soothe his own wound more irresistible.
+
+"I'm one of 'em," he said.
+
+He endeavored to compromise with duty by throwing the most unfeeling
+ferocity into his confession; but even the best drilled soldier cannot
+simultaneously advance and stand where he was.
+
+Ellen's eyes were riveted on him now.
+
+"I'm sorry. Have I said anything I shouldn't?"
+
+She looked distressed, and he realized he had overdone the ferocity.
+
+"No, no, I assure you. I only meant I--I--well, one can't have
+everything."
+
+He wished that delirious waltz would stop. It made it so hard to collect
+one's thoughts, and especially to recover the blank countenance he had
+managed to assume before he took this chair and heard that music and
+looked into those eyes. She smiled with playful kindness.
+
+"Are you so frightfully hard up?"
+
+"It isn't money! Oh, can't you--"
+
+He didn't finish his sentence; nor did he need to. A sudden light dawned
+in Ellen's eyes; her lips instinctively parted; and then she turned her
+face away. And thus they sat for what seemed an hour, while the
+sympathetic widow poured out voluptuous harmonies without cessation.
+
+In reality it was only two minutes later that Mr. Walkingshaw and Andrew
+entered: the senior partner looking, for a habitual diner-out, curiously
+flushed after his mild indulgence in port; the junior partner's full
+cheeks bulging with the backwash of a lover's smile. Frank sprang up,
+and his brother, smiling even more affectionately, took his chair. At
+the same moment the widow stopped playing, and the scales seemed
+suddenly to fall from the young soldier's eyes. He saw himself as the
+most despicable villain in Europe, and Ellen as lost for ever, whether
+as sister or friend. So distraught was he that he had nearly tried to
+open a mid-Victorian cabinet before he discovered it was not the door.
+Downstairs he hurried wildly, threw on an ulster and cap, and the front
+door banged behind him.
+
+The unhappy young man looked up at the circle of solemn mansions which
+towered above him, black against the dark gray heavens, and it seemed to
+him that each one as he passed it silently rebuked him; while the trees
+across the street, even though they were decidedly less solid, gave vent
+to their displeasure audibly. He had been brought up in the severest
+Scotch traditions, and though life in the army had vastly changed his
+outlook, it had in certain particulars but substituted "form" for
+"duty." To-night both standards rose spectrally and shook their awful
+fingers at him. He had let his heart get the better of his head! No
+member of his family (save luckless Jean) whom he ever knew or heard of
+had done such a thing before. Or if they had, the indiscretion had been
+judiciously hushed up, and the family escutcheon kept stainless. As for
+the divinity he had scandalized, she would never forgive him; she would
+always think of him as a traitor to his respectable brother!
+
+At this point a little star peeped out of the hurrying clouds and
+vanished again instantly. It was as though some power above had winked.
+
+On he strode through the steep, empty streets, lines of black freestone
+houses, built by regular church-goers and unbreathed upon by scandal
+ever since, frowning upon him perpetually; and the wind, which had risen
+greatly, wailing and booming all sorts of morals. And now a fresh
+trouble agitated him. He was growing less contrite! He kept seeing his
+brother's bulging cheeks, and Ellen's innocent, kind smile, and all
+sorts of backslidings suggested themselves. He had been criminal enough
+to fall in love, and now was added another crime--he could not fall out
+again. Never had he dreamt of such depths of depravity in him, Frank
+Walkingshaw.
+
+Again a little star twinkled for an instant.
+
+It was a full two hours later that he returned home, footsore (for he
+had been walking in his pumps) and with a mind as far from calm as ever.
+He assumed that everybody would be in bed, but no sooner had he shut the
+door than Jean appeared, flying downstairs to meet him.
+
+"Oh," she cried, with a note of disappointment, "I hoped it was the
+doctor!"
+
+"The doctor!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Hush!" she whispered, and came close up to him. "Father has suddenly
+been taken very ill."
+
+At that moment Andrew also appeared, to see who had entered. He looked
+portentously grave.
+
+"Well," he said, "what have I been saying? It's happened just exactly as
+anybody but a fool might have known it would--just precisely. He's no
+one to blame but himself for it--and his precious Mrs. Dunbar."
+
+He rubbed his hands almost pleasantly.
+
+"That quack's done for him--and his wine to-night finished the job.
+Well, I warned him against both. People that will not take advice must
+bide the consequences. Are you going to stay up for Dr. Mackenzie,
+Jean?"
+
+"Of course," she said.
+
+"Well then, I might as well get off to my bed. If there's any immediate
+danger,"--his face grew very solemn,--"if the end's expected in the
+night, or anything like that, just knock on my door."
+
+The junior partner bade them a grave good-night and retired; and such
+imaginative persons as are not satisfied with this bald record of facts,
+may picture him either as offering up a brief prayer for his father's
+happy recovery, or meditating upon the image of his betrothed--or both.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+Fortunately, it proved unnecessary to disturb the junior partner during
+the night, but next morning, when he had heard the doctor's report and
+personally visited the sick-bed, he took the most serious view of the
+situation. He summoned his two married sisters, urging them to lose no
+time; he spent only half an hour at the office; and then he sat down
+with his _Scotsman_ in the library (his Bible accessible in case of
+emergencies) to await the developments that he grieved to think were now
+practically inevitable. The doctor had paid a second visit and given the
+gloomiest report. Put in a nutshell, it came to this: that he could make
+neither head nor tail of his patient's symptoms, but that, as they were
+clearly the result of a course of treatment at the hands of an
+unqualified practitioner, it was improbable that Mr. Walkingshaw would
+recover from the consequences of his error.
+
+In the afternoon he was told that his father would like to see him. He
+had finished the _Scotsman_ and begun a conversation with his betrothed
+in a gently facetious vein, but it took him not a moment to adjust his
+features to the rigidity of an urn, and save for the faint squeaking of
+his boots, he ascended the stairs with noiseless solemnity. He found Mr.
+Walkingshaw propped up on pillows and breathing heavily. The demeanor of
+both was exactly becoming to the situation.
+
+"Are you suffering much pain?" inquired the son in a hushed voice.
+
+"It comes and goes," sighed the father. "It was just diabolical a few
+minutes ago; now it's a wee thing better, thanks."
+
+"A kind of temporary relief," suggested the son.
+
+"Possibly, possibly. I'd like to think it was going to last, though."
+
+"I wish I could hold out hopes," said Andrew sympathetically.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw stirred suddenly.
+
+"The doctor's not given me up yet, surely?" he exclaimed in a louder
+voice.
+
+"Hush, hush! It'll only hurry things if you let yourself get excited."
+
+"But, Andrew, my dear boy, tell me what he said to you."
+
+The junior partner shook his head, kindly but resolutely.
+
+"No, no; not yet awhile. So long as your mind remains clear, just keep
+composed; and then, when you feel any decided change, I'll hold nothing
+back from you, and we can get the rest of the family round the bedside.
+You'll agree that's the best thing."
+
+The orthodoxy of this programme ought, one would think, to have soothed
+the W.S. But it is strange what fancies sick men take.
+
+"I don't agree at all," said Mr. Walkingshaw warmly. "In fact, I may
+tell you Cyrus warned me there might be kind of temporary
+complications."
+
+He looked at his son for a moment and then added, with sudden decision--
+
+"Andrew, I'd like to see Cyrus."
+
+A grim smile dilated Andrew's cheeks.
+
+"You'll have to catch him first. He's off."
+
+"Off?"
+
+"Bolted this morning as soon as he heard he'd done for you. I hear he
+owes a couple of hundred pounds in the town, one way and another. That's
+your Professor for you!"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw groaned. His son thought it well to improve the
+occasion, since he did not expect to have many more.
+
+"Him and his radio-electricity! What was it he was going to do--renew
+the cells of the body?"
+
+"Well, why shouldn't cells be renewed?" protested the invalid weakly.
+
+"There will be," said his son facetiously. "He'll find himself in one
+again or I'm mistaken."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw lay silent for a few minutes. Then suddenly he groaned.
+
+"Another of them coming on!" he muttered, and twisted his face away.
+
+It was a few minutes more before he spoke again.
+
+"I trust they'll catch the rascal! Andrew, my boy, can you not do
+anything to assist the police?"
+
+It was impressive to see how adequately the junior partner handled each
+fresh development of the situation. At these last words he looked
+exceedingly grave.
+
+"Had your thoughts not better be turning to other things?" he suggested.
+
+The invalid's head started forward from the pillow.
+
+"Will you have the kindness to mind your own--" he began; and then, in
+judgment, another spasm assailed him.
+
+Andrew closed his eyes, drew down the corners of his mouth, and his lips
+moved silently but evidently piously. It was impossible to remain
+callous to such an elevating influence.
+
+"You are right, Andrew; you are right," said his father. "And now, just
+supposing I was taken, you'll see that affair of Guthrie and Co. through
+the way we decided on?"
+
+Andrew opened his eyes immediately and exhibited a fresh instance of his
+adaptability to each changing circumstance.
+
+"I've just been thinking of a better method still," he answered
+promptly. "Why should the creditors get any more than they're legally
+entitled to? You mind yon five thousand pounds invested in the Grand
+Trunk Railway?"
+
+"Perfectly, perfectly."
+
+"Well, when one goes into the thing, they've really no more than a moral
+right to that; and if one once begins on moral rights, there's no end to
+them."
+
+"That sounds a bit worldly-wise, Andrew; but as you like--as you like."
+
+His junior partner regarded him severely.
+
+"I may remind you that I'm only following your own precepts."
+
+"One says things in health that one repents of on a bed of sickness.
+Manage Guthrie and Co. as you like, but don't quote me if you mean to
+neglect moral obligations. I had the decency never to quote my own
+father, and it's the least you can do for yours, Andrew."
+
+Andrew still looked displeased. It seemed to his fastidious ears that
+there was an unpleasant smack of something remotely resembling cynicism
+in this speech. It sounded almost as though he were expected to
+acquiesce in the outrageous proposition that members of his family
+occasionally allowed moral to be overridden by practical considerations.
+He could not conceive of himself admitting the possibility of such a
+thing even in the secret recesses of his soul. It was most uncomfortable
+to listen to his own father going on like this. He must be very ill
+indeed--evidently at death's door.
+
+He walked to the window and looked out gloomily upon the gray clouds
+driving over the black chimney-cans. The wind had risen to a moderate
+gale, and the air was filled with sounds. It struck him as a very
+uproarious day for a Writer to the Signet to be going to his long home.
+He had given his father credit for soberer tastes. In fact, he was
+reminded unpleasantly of the riotous people he had heard of who passed
+away in company with a pint of champagne and a cigar. This sort of thing
+would really not do.
+
+"About my will, Andrew," said his father's voice.
+
+He turned with remarkable alacrity and a forgiving eye. At once he was
+the deferential offspring.
+
+"You'll find you're left very well off," continued Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+His son's cheeks bulged in a melancholy smile; precisely the right smile
+under the circumstances.
+
+"Not at the expense of the others, I hope," he answered modestly.
+
+"Oh, I was meaning you'd be well off as a family."
+
+The smile subsided.
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon," said Andrew.
+
+"But of course you'll get the bulk."
+
+The smile mournfully returned.
+
+"You have the position to keep up, and I thought it only fair to you,"
+said Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+Andrew bent his head in solemn acknowledgment of the truth of this
+observation and the justice of the arrangement.
+
+"There's just one little addendum I want to make. This unpleasant affair
+of Jean's has set me thinking, and supposing I'm taken, Andrew--just
+supposing--"
+
+"Assuming it's as we fear--I understand, I understand."
+
+"Well, then, you see, I'll not be here myself to keep Frank and Jean
+from doing foolish-like things if they happen to have a mind to; and
+they're not like you and their sisters. You've all chosen sensibly, but
+they're in a kind of way different. I ought to have had them educated at
+home."
+
+"What I've always said," his son agreed.
+
+"Anyhow, it's too late now, and what I'll just have to do is
+this--introduce a clause making them forfeit their shares if they marry
+without your consent in the next five years."
+
+"Would ten not be safer?" suggested Andrew.
+
+"We'll say seven, then. And of course you'll not withhold your consent
+unreasonably? I'll trust you for that."
+
+Andrew's attitude expressed to such perfection the confidence that might
+be reposed in him that his father shed him a satisfied smile.
+
+"And now," said he, "I wonder had you not better get me my will?--or we
+might wait till to-morrow, and see how I'm feeling then."
+
+If the junior partner had looked grave before, he looked funereal now.
+
+"Your mind's clear now," he said. "I wouldn't put it off."
+
+"Well, well," said Mr. Walkingshaw, "there are my keys on the
+dressing-table: you know where to find the will."
+
+Andrew went downstairs as solemnly as he had come up, and with the same
+faint squeak.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+It never occurred to Frank and Jean to blame their father in any way for
+electing so boisterous a day for his probable decease. Clearly they had
+not so fine an instinct for respectability as their brother. Their
+orthodoxy, compared with his, was built upon a sandy foundation: warm
+hearts can never hope to sustain, in its impressive equipoise, the head
+of an Andrew Walkingshaw. One might as well expect to find sap running
+up the legs of his office stool.
+
+That afternoon they instinctively drifted away from the others and sat
+unhappily together. The gusty booming of the wind and the clash of
+branches in the garden across the gale-scourged street tormented them
+with fancies. It seemed as though a thousand riotous misfortunes were
+buffeting their hearts.
+
+"Rain!" cried Jean, with a little start and then a shiver.
+
+"Isn't it beastly?" muttered Frank, his eyes on the carpet.
+
+It came on with the sudden violence of a thunder-clap. In a moment the
+tossing trees became gesticulating ghosts seen dimly through a veil of
+glistening rods of water sharply diagonal--nearly horizontal; and even
+through the musketry rattle on the window-panes they could hear the
+pavement hiss beneath their deluge.
+
+"Oh, Frank dear!" murmured Jean.
+
+Giving way to illogical tenderness, the young soldier took her hand and
+held it.
+
+Of course, the least turn for hard argument would have reassured them.
+The storm would blow over; they could find new lovers; their father,
+even suppose he died, would receive suitable interment. Besides, they
+would be the richer by his decease. But they remained foolishly moved.
+
+"If anything does happen to father," said Jean sorrowfully, "I shall
+never forgive myself."
+
+Frank looked surprised.
+
+"Forgive yourself--for what?"
+
+"For not loving him more. I almost hated him yesterday."
+
+Her voice sank very low and she looked apprehensively at her brother.
+But he did not rebuke her as he ought.
+
+"It's jolly difficult to love him sometimes," he admitted sadly.
+
+She seemed to gain courage.
+
+"Frank," she said, "have you _ever_ actually felt as affectionate about
+him as one ought?"
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"He never struck me as wanting that kind of thing. I've respected him,
+of course."
+
+"Oh, so have I--enormously."
+
+"Well," said Frank, "that's all he wanted out of us, I fancy."
+
+"Still," she murmured, "we might have given him something more."
+
+"'Pon my word, I don't know what he'd have done with it."
+
+She could not but admit that that, in fact, was just the difficulty. The
+cultivation of sentiment had not been included in Mr. Walkingshaw's
+youthful curriculum. His father before him had enjoyed but two forms of
+relaxation from his daily burden of obligations to clients and Calvin--a
+glass of good claret, and a primitive form of golf played with a missile
+of feathers in the interstices of a tract of whins. His mother had not
+even these amusements. Small wonder Heriot Walkingshaw found it a
+little difficult to sympathize with soft creatures who demanded
+hot-water bottles at night and affection by day. Jean had a weakness for
+both, and had only managed to obtain the hot bottle--and even that was a
+secret.
+
+The deluge continued and the wind bellowed. Lower and lower sank their
+spirits.
+
+"I sometimes wish I were more like Andrew," sighed Jean.
+
+The young soldier started.
+
+"Oh, Heaven forbid!" he exclaimed, and then in a moment added in a low
+voice, "I wish I had his luck, though."
+
+Jean softly pressed his hand. She understood.
+
+"I wish you had, Frank," she whispered.
+
+As if in rebuking answer to these impious desires, the portly form of
+Andrew filled the doorway. He looked like the reincarnation of all the
+mourners who had ever followed a hearse.
+
+"He is worse," he said in a sepulchral voice. "The end's not far off.
+You had better come up and see him."
+
+In the sick chamber they found already assembled Miss Walkingshaw, Mrs.
+Dunbar, Ellen (who kept in the background and never caught Frank's eye
+once), and their two elder sisters. Of this pair, Maggie, the eldest of
+them all, had long been coupled with Andrew as the two greatest credits
+to the family. She was the wife (and incidentally, it was said, the
+making) of Ramornie of Pettigrew, a laird of good estate in the kingdom
+of Fife. Her business capacity was almost equal to her brother's. She
+had extracted Pettigrew from the hands of the friends who had been
+"doing him no good," paid off the bonds on his property, presented him
+with three creditable children, including the necessary heir male, and
+would undoubtedly have put him into Parliament could she have ensured
+her own presence always at his side. But as he would have to deliver his
+speeches himself, even if she composed them, she was content with making
+him a deputy-lieutenant. In person this lady suggested the junior
+partner as well as in mind. She, however, was blonde, and though her
+cheeks took after his, her upper lip was not quite so substantial.
+
+Gertrude, the second sister, was now Mrs. Donaldson, wife of Hector
+Donaldson, advocate. At the time, it was considered a middling sort of
+marriage; since his cross-examination of the co-respondent in Macpherson
+_v._ Macpherson and Tattenham-Welby, it had been considered a creditable
+marriage; and if his practice continued its present rate of increase,
+it would soon become a good marriage. In any case, she had justified the
+Walkingshaw reputation for investing money or person soundly and
+shrewdly. She resembled her father, and he had always been considered a
+fine-looking man. Both Andrew and Maggie thought she got too many of her
+clothes in London. They made her a little conspicuous, and they hoped
+she could afford it. Still, one heard very encouraging things said of
+Hector nowadays.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw was evidently weakening. He lay back with his eyes
+closed till they were all assembled, and then Andrew, who seemed to have
+the entire management of the melancholy ceremony, stepped up to the
+bedside and, with lowered eyelids, murmured--
+
+"They are all here now."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw opened his eyes.
+
+"I'm likely to be taken," he said in a weak voice. "Andrew'll have told
+you."
+
+He paused: and one little stifled sob was heard, too gentle to catch his
+ear. It came from Jean.
+
+"I'd just like to say a word to you all before I go. I've tried my best
+to do my duty by my children and my sister and my kinsfolk."
+
+At this specific inclusion of herself the sympathetic widow could keep
+silence no longer.
+
+"Indeed you have, Heriot!" she murmured.
+
+"Hush!" said Andrew sternly.
+
+"Let them say what they feel, Andrew," said his father, with a glance of
+melancholy kindness at the widow. "It's natural enough."
+
+Mrs. Ramornie at once took that hint, and her brief words of eulogy were
+corroborated by a general murmur.
+
+"Thank you, thank you," said Mr. Walkingshaw. "I may possibly have made
+mistakes now and then--I am but human. At the same time, I think there's
+none will gainsay I've shown a kind of respectable example. It's a great
+thing to be thankful for if one can die without making an exhibition of
+oneself--a great thing to be thankful for."
+
+The master of ceremonies by a grave glance indicated to the company that
+another approving murmur would be appropriate, and his own voice led the
+hum.
+
+"I've another thing to be thankful for," resumed the invalid, "and
+that's my eldest son. Andrew'll take good care of you all--of you and
+the business both. Oh, Frank, my lad, he's a fine example to you; just
+as your sister Maggie is to you, Jean. Mind you both follow them. You'll
+never give folks reason to talk about you then. Don't get yourselves
+talked about! That's the main thing. Of course, you'll take every
+opportunity of bettering yourselves, both of you; but do it in a kind of
+sober, decent way. Do it like Andrew: I can say no more than that."
+
+All eyes were sadly fixed on the two distressed young people, but they
+made no answer, and the affecting scene now terminated with these last
+few words--
+
+"If by any kind of chance it happens I'm given a year or two more after
+all, I'll take no more part in worldly matters. I'll leave things to
+you, Andrew, just the same as if I was gone. If I linger on, a chastened
+man, taking for a wee while an interest in your welfare, that's all that
+will be left to me--that's the whole I look forward to."
+
+Andrew's sorrowful eyes replied, "And that's more than we do," as he
+silently shook his father's hand. Then the company tiptoed sadly out of
+the sick-room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+Of all the anticipatory mourners, the most demonstrative was the
+sympathetic widow. She could barely control her emotion till she reached
+the drawing-room. There she broke down quite.
+
+"Oh, Mary, Mary!" she sobbed.
+
+They were alone together--Mary, commonly styled Miss Walkingshaw, and
+she. The exemplary spinster was likewise distressed, but in a calmer
+manner, as became a lady who had shared Heriot's Spartan upbringing.
+
+"Whisht, whisht," said she. "He'll maybe get over it yet."
+
+"No--no, he won't! That horrible beast will see that he doesn't!"
+
+Miss Walkingshaw started nervously.
+
+"You're not meaning the nurse?"
+
+"I mean that--ugh!--that Andrew!"
+
+A bright pink spot appeared in each of Miss Walkingshaw's cheeks. But
+the widow was too agitated to observe either them or the horrified stare
+with which she greeted this outburst.
+
+"I believe he would _kill_ him to spite me!"
+
+"Madge!" said the exemplary spinster in a voice which for the first time
+reminded her of Heriot's.
+
+Mrs. Dunbar collected herself. Doubtless she realized the injustice she
+was doing that excellent man.
+
+"I am sorry, Mary," she said gently. "I don't know what I'm saying. I
+admire Andrew as much as any one. I didn't mean it. It was only that I
+felt I _had_ to blame some one for this terrible sorrow."
+
+Her friend continued to look at her with decidedly diminished warmth.
+
+"Our religion forbids us--" she began austerely; but the sympathetic
+widow hurriedly anticipated her.
+
+"I know, I know, dear--so it does. How true, Mary; oh, how true! How
+sweet of you to remind me."
+
+She turned her large black eyes, glistening pathetically, full upon her
+friend; but for some reason Mary continued to regard her with a new and
+curious expression. A trace of suspicion seemed to be among its
+ingredients.
+
+Meanwhile her slandered nephew was in the library with his two elder
+sisters. The gas was now lit and the storm curtained out. Mrs. Ramornie
+and Andrew talked in decorously lowered voices; Mrs. Donaldson more
+loudly, and almost more airily, as became her dashing appearance and
+smart reputation. Yet she too had a nice sense of the solemnity of the
+occasion, and they forgave her elevated voice, since they knew several
+people of rank who talked like that.
+
+"An irretrievable loss," Andrew was saying; "an irretrievable loss."
+
+They agreed with him as heartily as people could who were feeling so
+depressed.
+
+"A public loss," he added; and again they concurred.
+
+"That will have to be taken into consideration in making the
+arrangements," he went on.
+
+They looked graver than ever.
+
+"Something like Sir James Maitland's?" suggested Mrs. Donaldson.
+
+"Something of the sort," said he.
+
+"I only hope it will not be a wet day," said Mrs. Ramornie. "George
+caught lumbago at his last funeral--Lord Pitcullo's, you know."
+
+George was the laird of Pettigrew. Nowadays his wife saw that he mixed
+with none but the most desirable company, whether it were alive or
+dead.
+
+"Oh, my dear, he must come over for it!" said her sister.
+
+"He will," replied Mrs. Ramornie; and they knew that point was settled.
+
+"To tell the honest truth, I'm devoutly thankful for one thing,"
+observed Andrew, with the first smile he had permitted himself, and even
+it was appropriately grim: "this will put Madge Dunbar's nose out of
+joint."
+
+"Thank Heaven for that!" replied Mrs. Ramornie devoutly.
+
+"She meant to get him," said Mrs. Donaldson. "I never saw a woman try
+harder."
+
+"If you'd been living in the house, you'd have seen still more of her
+trying," replied her brother.
+
+Another fierce shower beat upon the window, with it the gale rose higher
+and the branches clashed more noisily. Even behind curtains one felt in
+the presence of something elemental. Silence fell on the three, and when
+they spoke again it was more solemnly than ever.
+
+"It will make a considerable difference to us all, of course," said Mrs.
+Donaldson.
+
+Her brother seemed to take this as a question, for he nodded gravely and
+answered--
+
+"Oh, decidedly it will make that."
+
+She mused for a moment and then turned to her sister.
+
+"What was the name of the shoot the Hendersons had last season?"
+
+"Glenfiddle."
+
+"They paid two hundred, didn't they?"
+
+"Two hundred and twenty," said Andrew.
+
+He was a mine of information on the affairs of his acquaintances,
+especially on what they paid for things.
+
+"Can you not get enough invitations in the meantime?" asked Mrs.
+Ramornie.
+
+"Oh, dozens. But we want a little shoot of our own--when we can afford
+it."
+
+"I only mean to build that new conservatory we've always been talking
+about," said Mrs. Ramornie; and Andrew pursed his lips and nodded his
+approval. The pursing was meant as a hint of criticism on their too
+dashing sister.
+
+It was at that moment that there came the first gentle tap upon the
+door.
+
+"Come in," said Andrew, and the invalid's nurse entered.
+
+"Mr. Walkingshaw would like a pint bottle of champagne," said she.
+
+The junior partner stared first at her and then at his sisters. They in
+turn opened their eyes.
+
+"Is it the--er--usual thing?" he inquired.
+
+"The doctor said nothing about it. Who would ever imagine he was going
+to want champagne again?"
+
+"Is it ever given?" asked Andrew cautiously.
+
+"Oh, I know it's given," interposed Mrs. Ramornie decisively. "George's
+uncle drank it up to five minutes before he died."
+
+George's uncle had been a very bad example. At the same time he had been
+a baronet, and Andrew swithered between the dissoluteness of the request
+and a certain stylishness it undoubtedly possessed.
+
+"Mr. Walkingshaw is very determined for it," said the nurse.
+
+"Very well," he answered. "I'll get it for you."
+
+He went out with her and then returned to his sisters.
+
+"Does it mean the end is near?" asked Mrs. Donaldson in a very hushed
+voice.
+
+"It means it's nearer," he answered grimly.
+
+Undoubtedly this was a wild end for one of the most respectable lives
+ever lived in Edinburgh. Outside, the gale was now positively
+shrieking; and inside, he presumed the cork was already popping.
+
+"What a pity!" said Gertrude.
+
+"Oh, I don't know about that," replied her sister. "It keeps them happy.
+George's uncle tried to sing after they thought all was over."
+
+Her brother frowned. The possibility that the head of Walkingshaw &
+Gilliflower might exit singing exceeded his gloomiest forebodings. He
+wished women did not have that habit of talking about unpleasant things.
+Could they not keep the like of that to themselves?
+
+Even as he frowned the second tap disturbed them.
+
+"What is it now?" he snapped.
+
+"Could you tell me," asked the nurse, "where Mr. Walkingshaw keeps his
+cigars?"
+
+"Cigars!" he cried.
+
+"He is very set upon one."
+
+Andrew silently opened a cupboard and handed her a box of cigars. Then,
+still in silence, he seated himself before the fire and frowned at the
+dancing flames. Behind his back his sisters talked in low voices, but he
+seemed to have no taste for further conversation.
+
+A few minutes later came the third tap, and this time there was so
+curious a look in the nurse's face that the junior partner was on his
+feet in an instant.
+
+"Is it--shall we come up?" he exclaimed.
+
+"Mr. Walkingshaw would like to know what there's to be for dinner," said
+the nurse.
+
+He looked at his sisters and they at him, and then he rang the bell.
+Nobody spoke till the butler came up.
+
+"Will you ask the cook what's for dinner? Mr. Walkingshaw wants to
+know."
+
+Andrew threw into this speech all the concentrated bitterness of his
+soul. Here was the quintessence of unorthodoxy in the very home of
+Walkingshaw & Gilliflower! The head of the firm proposed to die not
+merely drinking and smoking, but, if possible, feasting. They might be
+in some wretched Bohemian den.
+
+In a few minutes the butler returned with a menu. Andrew read it with a
+sardonic smile.
+
+"Tell him," he said, "that he can have cocky-leeky soup, boiled cod and
+oyster sauce, loin of mutton, apple charlotte, and cheese straws--any or
+all of them he likes."
+
+"Thank you," said the nurse.
+
+Andrew planted himself before the fire.
+
+"A fine story this is to get about!" he exclaimed darkly.
+
+"But surely father must be light-headed," said Mrs. Ramornie.
+
+"Umph," he replied.
+
+He clearly did not consider this a very creditable excuse.
+
+"Or perhaps he is really feeling better," suggested Gertrude.
+
+"Better! A man at death's door one minute--given up by the doctors--and
+wanting to eat his dinner the next!"
+
+He started.
+
+"I wonder's that nurse fooling us! I didn't like the look of the woman
+from the moment she came into the house. I don't believe in your
+good-looking nurses."
+
+On this point his sisters cordially agreed with him. Still they didn't
+believe it was the nurse.
+
+"Then what is it?" he demanded. "If he's light-headed, why does she pay
+any attention to him?"
+
+The door opened, this time without a tap, and in petrified silence they
+beheld the portly form of Heriot Walkingshaw, arrayed in a yellow
+dressing-gown, holding between his fingers a cigar, and smiling upon
+them with a curious blend of satisfaction and meekness.
+
+"I have recovered," said he.
+
+As he made this simple announcement he blew luxuriously through his nose
+two thin streams of smoke, while the meekness of his aspect seemed to
+make some conscious effort to keep on terms with the satisfaction.
+
+A duet of questions and exclamations arose from the two ladies, and
+again some conscious restraint appeared to underlie the paternal calm
+with which he answered them.
+
+"Yes," said he, "it is probably one of the most extraordinary recoveries
+on record. It began all of a sudden. The spasms passed completely away,
+my temperature fell to normal, and I felt a curious sensation almost of
+exhilaration. It grew stronger and stronger till at last I could keep in
+bed no longer. I felt livelier than I have for years."
+
+He passed the cigar under his nose, drew in his breath, and smiled at it
+with a kind of partially chastened affection.
+
+"Do you think could we not have dinner put on a little earlier, eh?"
+
+A cry from the open door startled them. The sympathetic widow, her
+black eyes dilated, was gazing at the patient.
+
+"Heriot!" she exclaimed, and there was a note in her voice that came
+very near to damping the junior partner's enthusiasm at finding the head
+of his firm restored to him.
+
+"Yes, Madge," said Mr. Walkingshaw, his beatific smile still blander, "I
+have indeed been spared."
+
+He drew another deep whiff from his cigar, and added gently--
+
+"For maybe a few more years of quiet usefulness."
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Down the steep street where stands the office of Walkingshaw &
+Gilliflower, careers a hat. It is a silk hat and of a large size, the
+hat of a professional man of the most dignified standing and evident
+brain capacity. Nothing could show better the innate depravity of March
+winds than their choice of such a hat to play with. They had thousands
+to choose from--bowlers, caps, wideawakes, all kinds of commonplace
+head-gear--and here they have selected for their sport this cylinder of
+silk, symbolical of all most worthy of the city's respect. It leaps and
+bumps and slides, propelled by the breeze and the law of gravitation,
+down the decorously paved hill, in company with a little cloud of dust
+and some scraps of dirty paper. And behind it, now at a canter, now at a
+panting trot, ambles the portly form of Mr. Heriot Walkingshaw. The very
+devil must be in the wind to-day.
+
+At the corner of Queen Street the hat met the full force of the
+easterly blast, and bidding good-by to gravitation, turned at right
+angles and skimmed for forty yards through space as though the brothers
+Wright had mounted it. Then it resumed the action of a Rugby football,
+pitching now on its end and now on its middle, and behaving accordingly
+each time. Mr. Walkingshaw, perceiving that it was now bouncing in the
+direction he desired to go, fell for a moment to a walk and looked
+around for some assistant. But the only spectators within hail happened
+to be two errand boys who had not seen a circus for some time and
+evinced no desire to interrupt the entertainment. So off he started
+again, his white spats twinkling beneath his flapping overcoat, and
+covered the first fifty yards in such promising fashion that he was able
+to strike the revolving rim a series of smart raps with his umbrella
+before the wind had recovered its breath. Then suddenly up leapt the
+hat, cannoned from a lamp-post on to the railings of the Queen Street
+Gardens, from them across the pavement into the gutter, and there,
+getting nicely on edge, careered like a hoop, with the thud of Heriot's
+footsteps growing fainter behind.
+
+Down the next cross street came two acquaintances of the Writer to the
+Signet, and they stopped at the corner in amazement.
+
+"Good God, that's Heriot Walkingshaw!" cried one.
+
+"A man of his age!" replied the other; "he's running like a wing
+three-quarter--look at his stride!"
+
+A benevolent lady half stopped the hat with her umbrella. The W.S. was
+up to it. He stooped to reach it--a quick grab and he had it by the rim.
+
+"Well picked up, sir!" cried one of the acquaintances.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw did not hear. He was on the other side of the street and
+engrossed in brushing his quarry with his coat sleeve.
+
+"It's a wonderful performance," remarked the other acquaintance; "but it
+ought just about to finish him."
+
+"Will it? Look at him--he hasn't turned a hair!"
+
+"It's amazing--positively amazing!" they murmured together as they
+watched their elderly friend not only replace his trophy on his head,
+but cock it at an angle that breathed reckless defiance to the March
+winds.
+
+"Did you ever see Heriot Walkingshaw with his hat at that angle before?"
+
+"As often as I've seen him do even time chasing it!"
+
+Off he strode, breathing faster than usual, and his hat still a little
+ruffled, but otherwise as jaunty a figure as ever left an office; while
+his two acquaintances went away to narrate to the wondering city what
+their astonished eyes had seen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile the junior partner was unburdening his soul to the
+confidential clerk.
+
+"That's the end of Guthrie and Co.!" he exclaimed wrathfully. "The whole
+thing settled in a fortnight--we might be a marriage registry! It's just
+been 'we agree to this,' 'we agree to that,' 'we agree to anything you
+suggest.' We haven't fought a single point. I'd have made those
+creditors whistle a bit before they saw yon five thousand pounds! But
+what's my father say? You heard him yourself--'moral obligation'--'might
+be fought!'--'get it settled.' He's botched the whole business."
+
+Mr. Thomieson shook his grizzled head.
+
+"It's certainly not been our usual way of doing business."
+
+Andrew glowered at his desk.
+
+"He said he was going to leave the business to me, and in forty-eight
+hours he was taking more responsibilities on his shoulders than he had
+for years! He barely has the decency to ask me for my opinion now; and
+when I give it, he tells me it's timid. Timid!" The junior partner's
+voice rose to a shout. "He just goes at things like a bull, and before
+I've time to get in two words edgeways, the thing is settled and he's
+out of the office whistling!"
+
+"That whistling's a queer thing he's taken to," observed the clerk.
+
+"He was doing it coming home from church last Sunday."
+
+"Verra strange, verra strange," commented Mr. Thomieson.
+
+He seemed more struck with the peculiarity of the senior partner's
+conduct; Andrew with its offensiveness.
+
+"He shows a fine grasp of things all the same," added the clerk. "In
+that way it fairly does me good sir, to see him so speerited. It minds
+me of old times."
+
+"A proper like business we'd have had to-day if he'd gone on like this
+in old times!" grumbled Andrew. "He gets through things quick enough, I
+admit; but I tell you he does not take the same interest in them. He
+talks of 'dry details'!"
+
+"Is that so?" said Mr. Thomieson, his eyes opening.
+
+"It's a fact. And he's started cracking jokes with the clerks."
+
+"Aye, I heard him yesterday myself. It sounded awful bad in this
+office."
+
+"I tell you what it'll end in," said Andrew. "It'll end in our losing
+our business--that'll be the end of it. And this is what he calls 'a few
+years of quiet usefulness'!"
+
+The junior partner's upper lip seemed to hang like a curtain half
+covering his face. Behind it he swore so distinctly that the
+confidential clerk discreetly withdrew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+"It's quite remarkable how well I'm keeping--quite astonishing," said
+Mr. Walkingshaw to himself, as he continued his walk with his recovered
+hat perched at the angle that had so surprised his acquaintances.
+
+A month had passed since the stormy afternoon when he had said farewell
+to his family, and he now looked back upon that adieu as the rashest and
+most premature act of his life. Andrew must have frightened him; that
+was the only conceivable excuse for his conduct, seen in the white light
+of his present rude health; and he secretly decided that the junior
+partner had been getting a little too much rope. If you once let these
+lads kick up their heels, the deuce was in it. He would do nothing
+unjust, but he would see that he didn't encourage Andrew to alarm him
+again. Thus does the virtue even of the most exemplary occasionally
+over-exert itself.
+
+Meanwhile, it was uncommonly pleasant to be able to chase one's hat for
+a quarter of a mile and feel not a twinge of gout or rheumatism after
+the merry pursuit. Mr. Walkingshaw felt half inclined to give his hat a
+start again. What a joke it would be to kick it over the railings next
+time! At this very undignified thought, he recollected himself and for a
+few minutes looked as decorously pompous as the head of the firm should.
+But somehow or other that run seemed to have stirred his blood. The fun
+of kicking his hat over the railings returned so forcibly that there
+spread over his ruddy face a smile which greatly surprised the wife of
+one of his most respected clients passing at that moment in her
+carriage. She too returned home to talk of Mr. Walkingshaw's curious
+demeanor in the public streets of his native city.
+
+The kicking fancy, by a natural chain of thought, reminded him that the
+England and Scotland International was being played next Saturday. He
+must be there, of course; and wouldn't he shout himself hoarse for
+Scotland! He had a moment's dismay when he remembered that old Berstoun
+had made an appointment to come in on Saturday and see him about his
+confounded money affairs. Then he cheered up again. Let the old chap be
+hanged! He would wire and put him off. In fact, he must be put off. For
+had not Madge Dunbar promised to come to the match with him? By this
+time he had reached the door of his house, and it occurred to him
+forcibly that afternoon tea was always a much pleasanter function if
+Madge were present. He hoped she wouldn't be out calling.
+
+The dignified twilight of his hall sobered him considerably. He had been
+following a strangely frivolous line of thought, he told himself.
+Certainly he must never allow his hat to escape again. That run had
+quite upset his equanimity: he found himself going upstairs two steps at
+a time, and had to pause and shorten his stride.
+
+In the drawing-room he found his sister and the widow.
+
+"Hullo!" said the W.S. before he could recollect himself.
+
+"Hullo!" smiled the widow archly.
+
+He had felt ashamed of the exclamation the moment it escaped him, but
+finding it received so prettily, he secretly resolved to say it again
+some day--after a week or two had elapsed, perhaps; confining himself to
+more dignified remarks in the interval.
+
+"You look as though you had heard good news," said Mrs. Dunbar.
+
+"I've been chasing my hat," he chuckled.
+
+He had meant to make no allusion to the undignified episode, and here he
+was blurting it out first thing! He began to feel puzzled by this odd
+persistence of high spirits.
+
+"Not in the street, surely?" said Miss Walkingshaw, with her longest
+face.
+
+"Oh, I hope it was in the street!" cried the widow. "I'd have loved to
+see you!"
+
+Her dear friend regarded this speech with the strongest disapproval; in
+fact, she had never quite approved of Madge since those unlucky words of
+hers. But Mrs. Dunbar had ceased for some reason to show the same marked
+regard for her opinion. It was Heriot who had again refused to hear of
+her leaving, and she seemed content to win his approval.
+
+"It was in the street," smiled Mr. Walkingshaw. "I chased it for quite
+half a mile, and ran it down single-handed. I wish you had been there,
+Madge. You'd have seen there was life in the old dog still!"
+
+He had doubled the distance and forgotten the lady with the umbrella;
+but then, as Andrew had remarked, a distaste for dry detail had suddenly
+become characteristic of his recovered health.
+
+"Too much life sometimes, I think!" she exclaimed coquettishly; and Mr.
+Walkingshaw winked in reply.
+
+He was inwardly as surprised at the wink as he had been at the "hullo."
+These aberrations seemed to come quite spontaneously. He wished he could
+understand what caused them.
+
+"Have you had a tiring day at the office?" asked the dry Scotch voice of
+his sister.
+
+Her familiar accents instinctively banished the aberrations.
+
+"Tolerably, tolerably," he said, with his old air. "We had the affairs
+of Guthrie and Co. to settle up. I settled them, though."
+
+"Andrew would be a great help," she replied, with an apprehensive glance
+at him. She was much in her nephew's confidence at present.
+
+"Andrew, pooh!" said his father. "He'd talk the hind leg off an
+elephant. When things need settling, I just settle them myself and leave
+him to grumble away to Thomieson."
+
+Miss Walkingshaw gasped, and the widow gave the sweetest little laugh.
+
+"Poor Andrew!" said she.
+
+"Poor Andrew indeed," retorted her friend, with more indignation than
+she had almost ever permitted herself in the presence of her formidable
+brother.
+
+He looked at her in genuine surprise. So subtly had his point of view
+altered that he quite failed to grasp her cause of complaint.
+
+"What's the matter, Mary?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, if you don't see, what's the good in my trying to explain?"
+
+He merely stared at her, and the widow tactfully interposed.
+
+"Of course you are going to the match on Saturday?" said she.
+
+"Of course, Madge."
+
+"Have you forgotten Mr. Berstoun is coming to see you?" asked Miss
+Walkingshaw.
+
+He waved aside this objection with a dignified sweep of his hand. A
+piece of cake happened to be in it, and the icing flew across the floor.
+On the instant he was on his hands and knees collecting it.
+
+"Berstoun's a mere nuisance," he answered from the carpet. "He'll never
+get out of debt if he lives to a thousand. What's the good in his coming
+to see me? Let him tell his creditors to go to the devil; that's the
+only sensible thing to do."
+
+He rose chuckling--
+
+"He'll go himself some day; so they'll meet again."
+
+His sister's face was too much for the widow's gravity. She began to
+laugh hysterically, her black eyes dancing all the time in the merriest
+fashion at her host. It was so infectious that in a moment he had joined
+her.
+
+"Won't they?" he kept asking through his chuckles. "Won't they, Madge?"
+
+She kept nodding, choked with laughter, and another strange sensation
+began to puzzle Mr. Walkingshaw. It was not so much something new as
+something forgotten which was beginning to return, and it concerned this
+very sympathetic widow. She was an uncommonly nice woman--really
+uncommonly: and what an odd pleasure he began to feel in her society! He
+felt even more satisfaction than when he had run down his hat.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+It was upon a fine April morning that Mr. Walkingshaw made his momentous
+discovery. His sister had left her room on her way to breakfast when she
+heard his voice calling her. It had so curious a note of excitement that
+she got a little flustered. Whatever could be the matter? She hurried to
+his dressing-room door and tapped with a trembling hand. She was not
+easily agitated as a rule, but her brother had been very disconcerting
+for the past few weeks, and now his voice was odd. She remembered
+reading of gentlemen lying on their dressing-room floors with razors in
+their hands--
+
+"Come in!" he cried impatiently.
+
+She found him dressed all but his coat, and he was standing by the
+window looking out over the street and the circular garden.
+
+"Come here, Mary," he said, and pointed at the houses seen through the
+leafless trees. "Have they been doing anything to the Hendersons'
+house?"
+
+"What doing to it?" she exclaimed.
+
+"Painting it, or brightening it, or--or anything of that kind?"
+
+"Who ever heard of painting a house!"
+
+From which it may be gathered that the good lady was not in the habit of
+visiting other cities.
+
+"Well then, washing it?"
+
+"Mr. Henderson washing his house! Whatever would he do that for?"
+
+"Tuts, tuts," said her brother, "I'm only asking you. It looks so
+uncommonly distinct. Can you not count the chimney-cans?"
+
+"Me? You must get younger eyes than mine, Heriot."
+
+"I can count them," he answered.
+
+"_You_ can! But I thought you'd been complaining you couldn't always
+recognize people across the street nowadays."
+
+"I can count those chimneys," he repeated. "I've counted them five
+times, and they come to fourteen each time. I'd like to get some one
+younger to count them too. Where's Madge Dunbar?"
+
+He started impetuously for the door.
+
+"She's dressing!" cried the horrified lady. "You can't get her in
+here--you with your coat off, too!"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw turned back.
+
+"Well, anyhow," said he, "I'll lay you half a crown there are fourteen
+chimneys on Henderson's house. Will you take it up?"
+
+"When did you hear I'd taken to betting?" she gasped.
+
+He waved aside the reproach airily, much as he waved aside everything
+she said nowadays, the poor lady reflected. His next words merely
+deepened her distress.
+
+"Look at my face carefully," he commanded. "Study it--touch it if you
+like--examine it with a lens--give it your undivided attention while I
+count twenty."
+
+He counted slowly, while she stared conscientiously, afraid even to
+wink. "Now, what have you observed?"
+
+"You're looking very well, Heriot," she answered timidly.
+
+"Did you ever see a man of my age look better?"
+
+"N--no," she stammered.
+
+"Well, don't be afraid to say so, for it's perfectly true. Do you mind a
+kind of deep wrinkle under my eyes? Where's that gone now?"
+
+"I can't imagine, Heriot."
+
+"Well, don't look distressed; it's bonnier away."
+
+"Yes," she said in a flustered voice, "you do have a kind of smoother
+look."
+
+"Smoother and harder," he replied, prodding his ribs with his fingers.
+
+She gave a little cry of distress.
+
+"You're growing thin! Your waistcoat's hanging quite loose. Oh, Heriot,
+it's terrible to see you that way!"
+
+Her heart might be a little withered by all those northern winters, with
+never another heart to keep it warm, but it could still beat faster at a
+breath of suspicion cast upon her hospitality. She had not been feeding
+her only brother properly!
+
+"Tell me yourself what you'd like for your dinner!" she entreated him.
+
+He laughed at her genially.
+
+"Pooh! Tuts! Did you ever in your life see me eat a better dinner than
+I've been taking lately? You might give one a suet pudding oftener, but
+that's all I have to complain of."
+
+Heriot had always been addicted to suet pudding, but for a number of
+years past his doctor's opinion had been adverse to this form of diet
+for a gentleman of gouty habit.
+
+"But what about your gout, Heriot?" she asked.
+
+"Gout? Fiddle-de-dee! Who's got gout? Not I, for one."
+
+He had been glancing complacently at his improved reflection in the
+mirror. Abruptly he stepped up close to the glass and examined his
+visage with unconcealed excitement.
+
+"Good God!" he murmured.
+
+Then, with much the expression Crusoe must have worn when he spied the
+footprint, he turned to his sister, and, grasping a lock of hair upon
+his brow, bent his head towards her, and demanded--
+
+"What color's that?"
+
+"Dear me," she said, "it looks quite brown. I didn't know you had any
+brown hair left."
+
+He raised his head and looked at her in solemn silence till she began to
+feel dreadfully confused. Then he bent again.
+
+"Do you notice anything else?"
+
+"N--no; unless your hair's got thicker. But that's not likely at your
+time of life."
+
+"It is _not_ likely," said he. "It is most improbable--in fact, it is
+practically impossible; but it is thicker."
+
+He rubbed his chin and gazed at her with the queerest look. Mary had
+known him since he trundled a hoop, but she never remembered him go on
+like this before. As for Heriot, he seemed to be debating whether he
+should spring something still more surprising on her or not. But she
+looked so uncomfortable already, so totally without the least clue to
+his mysterious words, so unconscious of anything stranger about him than
+his shirt-sleeves and loss of weight, that he only uttered something
+between a gasp and a sigh, and, turning away from her, took up his
+brushes to smooth his augmented hairs.
+
+"I'll be down to breakfast in a jiffy," he said.
+
+Miss Walkingshaw thought that an odd kind of phrase for Heriot to be
+using.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+Andrew no longer walked to the office with his father in the mornings.
+Not that _he_ had anything to do with the altered custom: in fact, he
+was always most careful to assure his friends that he had more than once
+waited as long as five minutes to give his father the opportunity of
+having his company--if he was wishing it. But Mr. Walkingshaw was never
+less than ten minutes late nowadays.
+
+On this particular morning he set forth a full half-hour after his son.
+He had been very absent-minded after his talk with his sister,--not even
+Mrs. Dunbar could keep his attention for more than a moment,--and he had
+sat for the best part of twenty minutes thoughtfully putting on his
+boots. One or two acquaintances who saw him on the way from his house to
+his office often recalled his demeanor that morning. Now he would loiter
+along with bent shoulders, his hands behind his back, trailing his
+umbrella and brooding as though he contemplated bankruptcy. Then
+suddenly his pace would quicken, the umbrella whirled round and round
+like a Catherine wheel, and with his head held jauntily and the merriest
+smile he would swagger along like a young blood of twenty-six who had
+just been accepted by an heiress. And then abruptly he would lapse into
+his mournful gait.
+
+"I want to see Mr. Andrew," said he, as soon as he was seated in his
+private room.
+
+The junior partner entered with a melancholy visage and a reproachful
+eye.
+
+"Oh, you've come at last," he remarked, too quietly to be rude, too
+pointedly to be pleasant.
+
+But his father seemed not to have heard.
+
+"Sit down, sit down," he said; and then in an earnest manner and with
+the gravest face began, "I've something to tell you, Andrew, that I
+think you ought to know."
+
+Andrew's visage relaxed. This gravity promised better than anything his
+father's behavior had led him to expect of late.
+
+"Something most extraordinary has happened. You've noticed a little kind
+of difference in me of late, possibly?"
+
+"I have," said Andrew, with an intonation that made his acquiescence
+particularly thorough.
+
+"A sort of cheerfulness and healthiness, and so on?"
+
+"And so on," assented Andrew.
+
+"Well, I've accounted for it at last!"
+
+"Oh?" said Andrew.
+
+This did not strike him as quite so interesting. He thought of the
+papers he had left, and glanced at his watch.
+
+"You mind my telling you about Cyrus's theory of the cells of the
+body--that all they needed was the proper kind of stimulation, and
+they'd be as good as new? Well, he went one better than that sometimes.
+I never told you what his idea was--it sounded kind of daft-like when
+you didn't hear him laying it down himself--but I'll tell you now."
+
+His voice sank impressively, and his junior partner grew vaguely uneasy.
+This was a most unsuitable place and hour to be discussing quack medical
+theories. He didn't approve of it at all.
+
+"His idea was that every cell of the body--mine and yours,
+Andrew,"--(Andrew grew exceedingly uncomfortable: this verged on the
+indecent),--"every single cell of them is just a kind of wee vessel in
+which chemical and electrical changes are going on. While they keep
+brisk we keep young, and when they get off the boil, so to speak, we
+grow old. Well now, what's to hinder one stirring them up to boil faster
+and faster, instead of slower and slower? And if they once did that, of
+course you'd begin to grow young instead of going on getting old.
+Andrew, it's happened to me."
+
+Andrew started.
+
+"What has?"
+
+"I'm growing young again!"
+
+His junior partner looked at him for half a minute in dead silence. Then
+he decided that this statement had better be answered humorously.
+
+"Is this story a sample?" he inquired.
+
+"You don't believe me?"
+
+Andrew's cheeks bulged in a faint smile.
+
+"Am I expected to?"
+
+"Look at my waistcoat--when did you ever see it as loose as that, and me
+healthier than I've been for years, and eating more? Look at my
+face--where are the wrinkles gone? Look at my head--how long is it since
+you've seen a patch of brown hair there?"
+
+To complete this overwhelming series of proofs, he leapt up, and with
+an agile jump on one foot whirled the other leg clean over the back of
+his chair.
+
+"It's twenty years and more since I last did that!"
+
+Andrew was fairly startled out of his skepticism now. He had the eyes of
+a goldfish, and his upper lip and swelling cheeks twitched nervously.
+
+"What an awful thing to happen!" he murmured.
+
+"It has happened, though," said his father.
+
+"But surely--oh, it must just be temporary. You don't think it will
+last, do you?"
+
+"I think nothing," replied Mr. Walkingshaw, with conviction. "I have no
+settled opinions left. I am a mass of cells in active eruption."
+
+He began to chuckle.
+
+"I'm like a dashed volcano, Andrew!"
+
+His son looked at him piteously. To suffer this sea change was bad
+enough, but to laugh about it was diabolical. Mr. Walkingshaw could not
+but sober down under such an eye. He gathered his countenance into an
+aspect as portentously solemn as his dwindled wrinkles could achieve.
+His son grieved afresh to see how their passing diminished the once
+overpowering respectability of his parent.
+
+"It's an awful predicament," said Mr. Walkingshaw, shaking his bronzing
+head.
+
+"Awful--just awful! What will people say?"
+
+"That's just what I've been wondering. How am I going to break it to
+them?"
+
+"You're not going to tell people!"
+
+"But they'll notice for themselves."
+
+Andrew gazed at him gloomily.
+
+"It may pass off,"--his face cleared a little,--"in fact, it's certain
+to."
+
+"It doesn't feel much like it at present: I'm fairly bursting with
+spirits," smiled Mr. Walkingshaw, and then recollected himself and grew
+grave again. "What's to be done supposing people do notice?" he asked.
+
+"We'll just have to stretch a point," said Andrew somberly, "and give
+some other explanation."
+
+"We might give some decent, respectable doctor the credit for it," his
+father suggested.
+
+"They'd all be afraid to take it, if it went on any further. Imagine a
+respectable doctor admitting he'd made a man grow younger! I dare say
+they might be proud of such a performance in London, but they've more
+decency here!"
+
+It seemed characteristic of Mr. Walkingshaw's calamity that he should
+bounce up like a tennis ball after each well-meant effort to depress
+him.
+
+"In that case," said he cheerfully, "we'll just have to say I am trying
+to make myself more of a companion for you."
+
+Andrew started violently.
+
+"We'll say no such thing! Do you suppose _I'm_ going to have my name
+mixed up with it?"
+
+His father remained serene.
+
+"Well then, what do you suggest?"
+
+Andrew's cheeks drooped, carrying the corners of his mouth down with
+them.
+
+"There's no good in suggesting. You can trust your friends to do that
+for you. Pretty stories they'll be circulating!"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw regarded him with dignity, mingled with a trace of
+good-natured contempt for such a lack of spirit.
+
+"My dear Andrew," said he, "you need not be under the slightest
+apprehension. Whatever my external appearance may become--and I trust it
+will remain not altogether unpleasing--I shall see to it that my conduct
+rebuts any breath of scandal. I shall be, if possible, more circumspect,
+more scrupulously observant of the rules which should regulate the
+behavior of a man in my position, more discreet both in speech and
+conduct. The tongues of the libelous will be effectually silenced
+_then_."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw accompanied these excellent sentiments by gently
+swinging himself to and fro in his revolving chair and rolling a scrap
+of blotting-paper into a pellet, which, at the conclusion of his speech,
+he absent-mindedly discharged at the office clock. His son seemed as
+impressed by these movements as by his words.
+
+"You'll find it easier," he began bitterly, "to set people talking than
+to--"
+
+"When you come to think of it, the situation is not without decided
+advantages," his father interrupted, springing up and pacing the room
+with an animated air. "Just think of the renewed opportunities for doing
+all kinds of useful and beneficial things! I might take a more prominent
+part in public life: I might even go in for politics. I certainly shall
+take a bit of salmon-fishing. The study of some of our classical authors
+suggests itself as a relaxation for my leisure moments. The subjects of
+aeroplanes and national defense are worthy of consideration, too. I
+should like to visit several of the continental countries--our own
+colonies are even more attractive; there wouldn't be the same
+difficulties about the language. Or, by Jingo, Andrew, I might learn
+French and Italian! Yes, the position is not without its compensations."
+
+He stopped beside his son and laid his hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"I propose to widen greatly the scope of my energies, without in the
+least forfeiting the respect of my fellow-citizens. That is my ideal,
+Andrew. Ah, my boy, you and I will have some great times together! By
+that I mean, of course, some beneficial and profitable times."
+
+He took a sudden step forward and kicked the wastepaper-basket into the
+fireplace.
+
+"I might even take up football some day, if this goes on," he smiled,
+and then abruptly recovered his solemnity.
+
+"Beneficial and profitable," he repeated gravely. "Those are to be our
+watchwords. Will you have a weed?"
+
+The junior partner started out of the reverie into which he had fallen.
+
+"Are you going to start smoking _here_?" he cried.
+
+"Why the deuce shouldn't I? It's my own office. These old-fashioned
+ideas of yours about not smoking on business premises are getting out
+of date. Besides, it keeps the flies away. And now I must get on to my
+correspondence."
+
+With a cigar in the corner of his mouth and humming something resembling
+an air, the senior partner dashed into his day's work with the ardor of
+an egg-collector.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+In the meantime, the two least satisfactory members of the family were
+sadly enduring the consequences of their foolishness. To Frank and Jean
+the world seemed a very gray place at present; and even the daily
+increasing juvenility of their parent failed to enliven them. They were
+too engrossed in their own unhappiness to take much notice of it; and
+what they saw merely distressed them, for so far his beneficent projects
+had not included them. Frank moped about the house, consorted
+occasionally with an acquaintance, now and then went away for a day's
+golf, and at frequent intervals confided to Jean his disgust with the
+arrangements of the universe. Ellen Berstoun was to have paid them
+another visit, but for some reason she put it off; and at this decision
+he was plunged for forty-eight consecutive hours into a frenzy,
+alternately of relief and despair, which left him at last more
+lackadaisical than ever. A few days after his father's momentous
+interview with Andrew, he was roused to fresh anguish by the junior
+partner's departure to spend a week-end at Berstoun Castle, and his
+state of mind now became so unbearable that he abruptly announced to
+his sister--
+
+"I can't stick this any longer! I'm going up to town."
+
+"What for?" she asked.
+
+"For a bust," he answered desperately. "I'm going to try to--to--to
+forget."
+
+And the poor youth strode hurriedly out of the room to examine the state
+of his silk hat and his finances.
+
+Jean devoutly wished she too could fly to London! Like a dutiful girl,
+she had returned, at her father's peremptory bidding, two unopened
+letters received from that city. Frank knew his address and forwarded
+them for her. Once or twice after that he himself received a letter in a
+hand suspiciously resembling the writing on the unbroken envelopes, and
+it certainly was a fact that on each of these occasions the erring pair
+were closeted for long together, and that Jean's spirits rose a little
+for a few hours afterwards. But they soon sank again.
+
+After Frank had announced his desperate resolution she sat alone
+for some time in the drawing-room. Everybody else was out, and the
+house seemed prodigiously silent and vast. At last she heard a little
+noise, which presently took the form of footsteps bounding upstairs,
+accompanied by a cheerful tuneless whistling. The door was flung
+open, and her father entered.
+
+It was only at that moment that Jean realized he was a curiously altered
+man. He was dressed in brown tweeds and a light waistcoat; his face was
+flushed, and a smile danced in his eyes.
+
+"I've been for a bicycle ride," he announced.
+
+She could hardly believe her ears.
+
+"You--on a bicycle?" she gasped; for Mr. Walkingshaw had been born long
+before bicycles.
+
+"Yes; I've had a couple of lessons--only two, and I went for a six-mile
+ride all alone to-day!"
+
+"Then weren't you at the office?"
+
+"In the morning; but one gets no exercise in that beastly office. I need
+a lot nowadays."
+
+He threw himself into a chair and a smile broke over his face, in which,
+to her further bewilderment, she recognized an unmistakable flavor of
+roguishness.
+
+"Thinking of him?" he inquired.
+
+Poor Jean nearly jumped out of her chair.
+
+"Of--of whom?" she gasped.
+
+"The artist fellow, what's his name--Vernon."
+
+"Father!" she said in a low, pained voice.
+
+"Eh? What's the matter?"
+
+She looked at him between grief and amazement.
+
+"You said that his name was never to be mentioned. Do you mean to--why
+do you--what do you mean, father?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw was finding it harder every day to retain his old
+attitudes in all their dignity. He was altering at an astonishing pace.
+How many years younger he had become already he could not compute. He
+had tried once or twice to calculate about where he stood but the
+surprising thing was that he found he cared less and less what was
+happening, and how fast it happened. He enjoyed himself amazingly so
+long as he did not worry; and the obvious moral was--don't worry. At the
+same time, he had no intention whatsoever of forfeiting the respect of
+his fellow-citizens, still less of his family. It was true this proviso
+occurred to him more often after than before he had surprised them by
+some trifling deviation; still, when it did occur, it occurred forcibly.
+On this present occasion he suddenly became preternaturally solemn,
+coughed with a little dry, respectable sound, and replied severely--
+
+"I meant that it must never be mentioned by you, but--ahem--it
+is--ah--different with your father. I still leave myself at liberty
+to mention him with reprobation."
+
+Jean jumped up with a sparkling eye.
+
+"In that case I'll leave you. I've obeyed you so far, but I certainly
+shan't obey you if you tell me to sit and listen to _anything_ against
+him!"
+
+And she started for the door.
+
+"My dear girl!" cried Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+He jumped up too, caught her by the hand, and led her to the sofa.
+
+"Now, now," he said kindly; "sit down and tell me all about it."
+
+She looked at him in fresh amazement.
+
+"All about what?"
+
+He found it a little difficult to explain precisely what he meant. He
+only knew that he felt an unwonted expansion of his heart towards this
+really charming little daughter.
+
+"All about the weather and crops," he suggested playfully.
+
+Jean began to tremble a little.
+
+"I--I don't understand you at all," said she.
+
+He smiled pleasantly.
+
+"Am I such a very mysterious old fellow?"
+
+At this odd and novel mixture of kindness and queerness she felt her
+words choking her, as much with fear as anything.
+
+"We--we never have understood each other," she found herself saying.
+
+He looked startled.
+
+"What? You don't mean to say you--But I'm your father."
+
+"I suppose that's the reason."
+
+"I have always tried to do my duty."
+
+"The trouble is, you succeeded."
+
+"What!" he exclaimed. "Do you actually mean to say you--ah--didn't
+appreciate my duty?"
+
+She was sitting by his side on the sofa, her eyes downcast and her lips
+obstinately set. Never before in her life had she stood up to him like
+this, but now that she had begun she was discovering to her surprise
+that she had more of her father's temper than she had dreamt of.
+
+"No," she said. "I didn't sometimes."
+
+Instead of getting angry, Mr. Walkingshaw seemed merely astonished and
+interested.
+
+"Perhaps it was the way I did it," he suggested.
+
+She looked up quickly.
+
+"Yes," she answered.
+
+"Well, my dear, I have lately discovered that I shall never be too old
+to learn. Just tell me how you'd like to be treated, and I'll try to
+manage it. I am very fond of you, Jean."
+
+Her mouth lost its obstinacy; her eyes and voice grew kind.
+
+"Father dear, if only you'd show it! If only--"
+
+He interrupted her by a resounding kiss.
+
+"More that kind of way?" he smiled.
+
+For answer she threw her arms round him and gave him what he immediately
+decided to be the pleasantest hugging he had ever enjoyed. This was a
+method of doing his duty that must certainly be repeated; he had no
+doubts about that. It led to such surprising results, too. In a few
+minutes he found himself embarked upon the most charmingly confidential
+conversation.
+
+"It was a little rough on you," he confessed.
+
+"You mean--?" she hesitated.
+
+"Well, well, perhaps we'd better not allude to it again," he answered
+kindly.
+
+But apparently she had no intention at all of avoiding the subject.
+
+"Oh, yes," she said eagerly. "I'd like to talk about it with you now."
+
+It did not seem to occur to the W.S. that he might end by committing
+himself to some expression of sympathy he would repent of later.
+
+"Capital," he answered genially. "You still like the fellow, then?"
+
+"Like him!" she exclaimed. "Oh, father, I--I still love him."
+
+"I wish he'd brush his hair a little better and wear a respectable tie;
+still, he undoubtedly has some original ideas."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw found himself musing on the artist's outrageous opinions
+with a new catholicity. They had staggered him at the moment: they began
+to interest him now.
+
+"It's a pity he can't make a little more money," he added.
+
+"But I don't need a large income to be happy, father."
+
+"Eh?" said Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+This was going rather too fast; yet when he looked into her shining
+eyes, he found it really very difficult to keep severe.
+
+"Money is a very important thing, my dear," he replied.
+
+"It's not nearly so important as love! Surely, father, it's far, far
+better that two people should be very, very fond of each other than
+have plenty of money! You do agree with that, don't you?"
+
+It was at this moment that there came to the little advocate-for-love's
+assistance a recollection of the sympathetic widow. In his mind's eye
+Mr. Walkingshaw suddenly saw a vision of her black eyes vivaciously
+beaming, and for some reason this enabled him to regard Jean's point of
+view in a wholly new and original light.
+
+"Well," said he, "I'm not sure that there isn't something in what you
+say. I do believe you're right, my dear--in fact, I'm positive you're
+right. The love for a fine woman--well, it's a first-rate
+sensation--most refreshing."
+
+"For a woman?" asked Jean, a little surprised. "But we were talking
+about a man."
+
+There was no mirror available, but Mr. Walkingshaw had a strong
+suspicion that he must be blushing.
+
+"For a man--of course," he said hastily. "I meant for a man. But in a
+general way I think I may say that love's the thing for everybody! It's
+the thing for you and me anyhow, eh, Jean?"
+
+Jean felt as though she had scrubbed a lump of crystal and found it to
+be a diamond. How was it she had never before discovered these depths of
+affection and geniality below his awe-inspiring exterior? She had not
+scrubbed hard enough!
+
+"Yes, indeed!" said she. "Oh, I do understand you now. Father, I'm so
+happy! And you won't think too hardly of Mr. Vernon, will you?"
+
+"H'm," smiled her father. "That's a matter we might well take to
+avizandum, I think."
+
+For a daughter of a Writer to the Signet, Jean was woefully ignorant.
+She did not know what avizandum meant in the least. But she felt sure it
+was the name of one of the roads to happiness; and she hugged him again.
+
+It was in the midst of this embrace that Mrs. Donaldson entered. She
+had always esteemed the author of her own existence and her family's
+prosperity, but she had never hugged him; nor had he shown any evidence
+of desiring such an operation.
+
+"Good gracious, Jean!" she exclaimed.
+
+"We are arranging a bike ride," beamed her father.
+
+To complete the confusion of his more creditable daughter, this
+improbable announcement was accompanied by an unabashed wink, directed
+at his less creditable child apparently for the superfluous purpose of
+assuring her he jested.
+
+That evening Mr. Walkingshaw began to be discussed by his
+fellow-citizens in earnest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+"You're not drinking, Andrew," said Mr. Walkingshaw. "Go on, fill up
+your glass. Man, do you call that filling a glass? Here's the way."
+
+Leaning across the table, he poured in the port till it stood above the
+rim, with the steady hand of a man of forty. He was hardly as young as
+that yet, but he was amazingly rejuvenated. It could not possibly last,
+Andrew said to himself; still, he felt dreadfully uncomfortable.
+
+"You seem very anxious I should drink," he said gloomily, looking
+askance at his brimming glass.
+
+"You're so dull, my boy," his father answered genially. "There's no life
+in you at all. You for a lover! You ought to have come back looking
+happy. One would think she'd broken it off."
+
+It was the evening of the same day. Andrew had returned from his visit
+to the Berstouns shortly after Mrs. Donaldson departed, and as Frank was
+dining out, he and his father sat alone together over their wine.
+
+"I've no reason to feel particularly happy," he said.
+
+"Eh?" cried his father. "Nothing gone wrong, is there?"
+
+"I don't understand these women."
+
+"No," said Mr. Walkingshaw, with jovial candor, "you'd be a bit of a
+stick with the sex, I can well imagine. You haven't the cut of a ladies'
+man: but it's all a matter of practice, my boy; just a matter of
+learning experience as you go along. What did she say to you?"
+
+Andrew was divided in mind. This tone exasperated him beyond measure. He
+felt inclined to leave the room. Yet, on the other hand, he judged
+himself ill-used by his betrothed, and when he had any ground of
+grievance, he had the pleasant habit of venting his complaints as long
+as his audience would listen to him. To-night the habit proved even
+stronger than his distaste for his high-spirited parent.
+
+"She was queer," said he.
+
+"They're all that," replied Mr. Walkingshaw knowingly. "The great thing
+is not to mind what they say. It's what they do that counts: and she'd
+be affectionate, I suppose, eh?"
+
+"I've never gone in for much of your spooning and kissing and that sort
+of thing," began Andrew.
+
+"The more fool you!" interrupted his parent. "What do you think a girl
+gets engaged for if it isn't to be cuddled?"
+
+He surprised himself by his own acumen. The late Mrs. W. had not been in
+the least that sort of lady, and he had never been engaged to anybody
+else; yet here he was laying down the law with the serenest confidence.
+Some divine instinct must be inspiring him. His son seemed less
+favorably impressed with his sagacity.
+
+"Ellen's not that sort of girl," said he.
+
+"My dear fellow, they're all that sort. At least, that's my view of the
+matter. Well, what's gone wrong?"
+
+"I don't know," said Andrew sourly. "I can't make her out. She's
+different somehow. It was almost as though she wasn't so fond of me."
+
+"Are you sure you've done nothing to annoy her? They're very touchy, you
+know."
+
+"I haven't done a thing to annoy her. I can swear to _that_."
+
+"Then," said Mr. Walkingshaw, with inspired conviction, "there's some
+other fellow cutting you out."
+
+Andrew started.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know all her neighbors. It's nobody she's met here, I
+suppose."
+
+"She never saw a man when she was here but Frank and me."
+
+"Then it's some one in Perthshire," pronounced Mr. Walkingshaw,
+emphatically but cheerfully.
+
+Andrew frowned at his still brimming glass. He trusted that he did not
+overvalue himself; at the same time, the idea of another being preferred
+by a girl who had once enjoyed the privilege of being engaged to Andrew
+Walkingshaw struck him as far-fetched.
+
+"I don't think it's another man," he said.
+
+"It's my opinion it is, Andrew; and I'm not wanting to lose so nice a
+daughter-in-law, so you've got to see that she doesn't turn round
+altogether. You've got to go in and win; make sure of her, my boy!"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw grew more and more animated and his son more and more
+distressed. He was behaving so unlike the senior partner in Walkingshaw
+& Gilliflower.
+
+"What are you wanting me to do?"
+
+"Behave less like a damned umbrella," pronounced Mr. Walkingshaw, with
+a startling lapse into epigram.
+
+Andrew stared.
+
+"Oh?" said he.
+
+"Be lively, and--er--amorous, and--ah--sparkling; that's the sort of
+thing. Go in for a few new ties and waistcoats. Socks, too, are things
+that the young men display considerable enterprise in. I was tempted
+myself this afternoon by a shop window full of really remarkably chaste
+hosiery--pale green with stripes! you'd look first class in them. I came
+to the conclusion at last that perhaps I was hardly young enough for
+them yet; but I invested in half a dozen ties of quite a tasty design."
+
+"_You_ bought half a dozen ties!" exclaimed Andrew.
+
+"I did; and you're welcome to any of them you like. Or will you come
+with me and we'll choose something?"
+
+"Thank you," replied his son sardonically; "but on the whole I'd sooner
+trust to nature."
+
+"In that case, Heaven help you, my poor boy! You have your good points,
+but beauty's not among them. Imagine you as a statue, Andrew! Eh?"
+
+The worthy gentleman laughed genially, but the unhappy lover did not
+join in his mirth.
+
+"I am glad I amuse you," he said, and rose to leave the table.
+
+"Sit down, sit down, man," his father commanded; "I haven't half
+finished with you yet. Have you read any poetry to her?"
+
+"I have not."
+
+"Well, read some; try a bit of--er--I'm not so well up in the poets as I
+hope to be soon, but I fancy Byron has written some very stimulating
+verses; or why go over the border for them--why not try her with Burns?
+What's finer than--
+
+     "'Had we never loved sae kindly,
+     Had we--um--um--sae blindly,
+     Never--something--um--um--parted,
+     We should--something about being broken-hearted?'"
+
+"It's very sentimental, I've no doubt," answered the junior partner, in
+a tone which implied that he was uttering the last word in caustic
+criticism.
+
+But his father merely grew the more enthusiastic.
+
+"And what else have you got to be but sentimental? My dear boy, my eyes
+have been opened this very afternoon. I've never been sentimental
+enough with my children; and what's the consequence? Here's you letting
+a pretty girl slip through your fingers because you don't let yourself
+loose on her! Now what you ought to say to her is something like this:
+'My own darling--or sweetheart--or even duckie,'--use some popular
+symbol, as it were, of affection,--'I am so passionately'--or fervently,
+if you like--let us say, 'so fervently in love with you that I can't
+hold out'--or perhaps you might find a better word than that; you want
+to inflame the lassie without startling her. 'I can't endure'--that's a
+better word--'I can't endure for another month. Marry me four weeks from
+to-day!' And there you have the whole thing done."
+
+Andrew had remained standing beside the table.
+
+"Is that all now?" he inquired.
+
+His father regarded him with a fine jovial scorn, much as Sir John
+Falstaff might have regarded the inventor of lemonade.
+
+"I doubt you're a hopeless case," said he. "There's ginger enough in an
+ordinary policeman to make three of you. But I'm not going to let you
+lose Ellen Berstoun if I can help it. Run away now and complain to your
+auntie."
+
+In pointed silence Andrew availed himself of this permission, while his
+father remained to light a cigar and meditate upon the disadvantages of
+unalloyed respectability. A fine example in many ways Andrew undoubtedly
+was, just as he trusted he had been himself; but he showed up poorly
+when it came to love-making. He was too old for his age; that was the
+trouble with Andrew. Now that he came to think of it, there was
+something uncompanionable in elderly people. It was surprising he had
+not noticed it before, but lately it had occurred to him forcibly. A
+brisk young fellow like Frank, a pretty girl like Jean--one felt more in
+touch with them. Perhaps they were a trifle on the juvenile side: the
+choicest, the most sympathetic period of life was undoubtedly that
+attained by--Mr. Walkingshaw jumped up, laid down his cigar, and started
+for the drawing-room. What a fine woman Madge was!
+
+He spent a delightful hour in the ladies' society. The obliging widow
+was easily prevailed upon to gratify a passion he had lately developed
+for tuneful and romantic melody, and she thrummed through five waltzes
+and the whole of two comic operas, while he sat on the sofa holding
+Jean's hand and exchanging confidential smiles. Jean was in the seventh
+heaven of happiness; the widow enthusiastically approved of the
+symptoms; and the only critic present appeared to be his exemplary
+sister. She listened to the concert with a bleak face, and regarded the
+dalliance on the sofa out of a troubled and uncomprehending eye.
+
+Aglow with sentiments, which from being mere amorphous ecstasies were
+rapidly developing into shapely visions of black eyes and well-nourished
+contours, Mr. Walkingshaw bade good-night to the ladies and settled
+himself comfortably in his easy-chair before a friendly fire and in
+company with a fragrant pipe. How delicious his tobacco tasted!
+Evidently this last tin must be of a superior quality. He resolved that
+he should insist on being supplied with the same high-class variety in
+future.
+
+At this point his pleasant reverie was interrupted by the entrance of
+Frank, just returned from dining with a friend. His father greeted him
+genially.
+
+"Well, my boy, help yourself to a drink and light your pipe."
+
+Frank glanced at him suspiciously. He had never before been encouraged
+either to drink or to smoke; indeed, he had more than once complained
+that his father seemed to forget he was now a grown-up man. What his
+sudden cordiality meant he could not divine; but on general principles
+he feared it. This did not prevent him from accepting both overtures
+and sitting down on the other side of the fire. Mr. Walkingshaw asked
+him a few questions about how he had spent the evening, always with the
+same friendly air, till the young soldier began to suspect he had
+negotiated some peculiarly fortunate business transaction. He became
+emboldened to approach what he feared might prove a delicate subject.
+
+"I'm thinking of running up to London for a week or two," he began.
+
+"An excellent idea," said his parent. "It must be rather slow for you
+here."
+
+Frank got more and more encouraged.
+
+"The only trouble is, I find myself rather short of funds."
+
+"How much do you want?"
+
+The going was too smooth to last, thought Frank. He became cautious.
+
+"Oh, a tenner or so, I suppose," he suggested.
+
+"A tenner!" exclaimed his father.
+
+"Say a fiver, then," said Frank hurriedly.
+
+"A fiver for a week or two in London? My dear boy, you don't know how to
+do the thing at all. Your return ticket will cost you over three pounds;
+supposing one averages your dinners at ten shillings a night for a
+fortnight--that's seven pounds more; suppers, even if you supped alone"
+(here he winked upon his startled offspring), "will run you at least as
+much. Put railway and grub at thirty pounds--just to be safe. Then
+you'll be going to theaters and music-halls, and taking cabs, and having
+a week-end at Brighton--and the Lord knows what else. My hat, it will be
+a spree!"
+
+With sparkling eyes and a beaming smile he leant forward in his chair
+and tapped his son upon the knee.
+
+"I'll come with you, Frank."
+
+"You!" gasped the poor youth.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Walkingshaw, apparently more to himself than to Frank,
+"that's the way to set about it!"
+
+He beamed upon his son confidentially.
+
+"I've got a splendid idea, and you're just the very chap to help me. I
+won't spoil sport, my boy, but I'll travel up with you--and, by Jove, we
+might stop at the same hotel, if that wouldn't embarrass you. Would it?"
+
+"N--no," said Frank, "n--not at all."
+
+"Just what we were needing--a little blow-out in London, eh?"
+
+Frank gave a little nervous laugh.
+
+"Do you really mean it?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw was now standing in front of the fire, alternately
+rising on tiptoe and thumping down on his heels.
+
+"Don't I just! When shall we start--to-morrow morning?"
+
+"To-morrow! But I haven't done any packing."
+
+"Well, no more have I. We'll just chuck in a few things and buy anything
+else we want in London. I need practically a new outfit myself. Can you
+introduce me to a good tailor?"
+
+"Ye--es," stammered Frank.
+
+"That's all settled, then."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw began to laugh mysteriously.
+
+"I'd like to see Andrew's face when he learns I've gone!"
+
+"But aren't you going to tell him?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw's voice sank.
+
+"Not a word to any of them, Frank! You put my things into your cab
+without any one noticing; I'll say I'm going to the office; and we'll
+meet at the station. I don't want to get talked about, you see."
+
+It was reassuring to find that Mr. Walkingshaw still valued his
+reputation, even though the measures he took to preserve it were not
+excessively convincing.
+
+"All right, then," said Frank; "I'd better go and pack now. Good-night."
+
+"Good-night, my boy," his father answered fervently. "God bless you!"
+
+The Cromarty Highlander had been through some nerve-testing experiences,
+but, as he went to his room, he realized that the severest ordeals often
+occur in civil life.
+
+Meanwhile, his parent at a leisurely pace was following him upstairs
+when he perceived a light still burning in the drawing-room. He gently
+pushed the door open, and a smile of peculiar pleasure irradiated his
+rosy face. There, busy at the writing-table and quite alone, sat the
+sympathetic widow. He remembered how prettily she had answered a simple
+interjection once before.
+
+"Hullo!" he warbled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+The widow started and turned in her chair. This time she did not archly
+cap his greeting. Instead, her exclamation had a tincture of alarm. He
+was so very unlike his usual self.
+
+"Writing a billet-doux?" he inquired, still smiling.
+
+He softly closed the door behind him, and approached her with a kind of
+jaunty, springy gait that increased her perplexity. She loved to see him
+lively, but this smirking manner was really almost peculiar.
+
+"May I sit at your feet, Madge?" he asked, and without waiting for an
+answer, drew up a footstool and planted himself so close to her knees
+that the sense of propriety felt by all fine women with any experience
+of life impelled her to withdraw them some three inches farther from his
+shoulder. At the same time she bent her head a very little forward and
+gently drew in her breath. The late Captain Dunbar had possessed in
+addition to the virtues of a dashing temperament, certain of its
+failings, and her cousin's demeanor decidedly reminded her of his
+conduct after particularly convivial evenings at the mess. But the test
+was reassuring. Her nose was keen, and she noticed nothing--absolutely
+nothing.
+
+"What a beastly big barn of a room this is," he began.
+
+She was at a loss quite what to answer. Could he mean this: he who
+prided himself on the becoming stateliness of his house?
+
+"Oh, I think it is a very fine and--and--impressive room, Heriot," she
+answered guardedly.
+
+"It's too big and gloomy for a widower. It makes one feel kind of
+lonely."
+
+The widow smiled sweetly. She quite understood what he meant now. The
+reminiscence of the late Captain Dunbar faded away, and once more she
+was sympathy itself.
+
+"Are you often lonely?" she inquired softly.
+
+He looked up into her face with a curious hint of boyishness in his
+face.
+
+"Not while you are here, Madge."
+
+Again a species of divine instinct possessed Mr. Walkingshaw. Without
+permission asked or given, he took his fair cousin's hand and gently
+held it. At the same time a longing to be confidential invaded him. He
+had a really prime secret to share with her.
+
+"I am going up to London to-morrow morning!" he announced.
+
+It did not surprise her that business should take him up to town; it did
+that his eyes should twinkle at the prospect. She began to feel a trifle
+less sympathetic.
+
+"Oh," she said, "why are you going?"
+
+For a moment he hesitated. Could he venture to confide in her? The young
+and amorous Heriot said, "Of course! Such a divinity will be all
+sympathy." But the senior partner in Walkingshaw & Gilliflower
+emphatically retorted. "Never tell a woman what you don't want the whole
+town to know!" He was still old enough to obey the more prudent
+counselor.
+
+"I'm going to see my old friend Colonel Munro."
+
+Decidedly Mr. Walkingshaw was fast acquiring that quick adaptation to
+circumstances which is the hall-mark of youth. He had not thought of his
+old friend Charlie Munro for the last year or more, and here he was
+coming in most usefully just when he was wanted. Heriot recognized with
+a touch of awe his own unwonted fertility.
+
+"Don't tell any one!" he added, and then immediately realized that at
+the same time he must be losing a little of that valuable discretion
+which had characterized the head of Walkingshaw & Gilliflower.
+
+"My dear Heriot, this sounds suspicious."
+
+He realized now the penalties for indiscretion.
+
+"I am going to see him on particularly private business. We do not wish
+it to get talked about."
+
+He thought he had recovered his old manner to a nicety, but what was his
+surprise when his cousin shook a well-manicured finger in his face, and
+cried--
+
+"What a naughty boy you are getting! I wonder whether I ought to tell on
+you or not?"
+
+This time he tried another of his ingenuous smiles.
+
+"_You_ wouldn't tell on me, Madge!"
+
+"Oh, indeed! Why should I care about your reputation?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw deliberately faced the situation. He had not meant to
+commit himself that evening--not, in fact, till he had enjoyed an
+untrammeled week in town; but he had placed his reputation in this
+charming lady's hands, and he realized he must obtain a receipt for it.
+
+"Don't you care about me?" he inquired tenderly.
+
+"What--what do you mean, Heriot?" she faltered.
+
+"You are everything to me," he answered, and looking into her black
+eyes, inwardly decided that this expressed very little more than the
+precise truth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a very few minutes after this that he found himself seated very
+close to the sympathetic widow's side, with one arm encircling a
+considerable segment of what had been a remarkably trim waist, and the
+other hand toying with a collection of ruby and amethyst rings.
+
+"I do hope I shan't disappoint you, Heriot," she murmured.
+
+"No fear of that, my dear," said he, pinching one of her plump fingers.
+
+"It will be rather a Darby and Joan marriage, of course," she smiled.
+
+"Will it?" replied Heriot, with a glint out of the corner of his eye
+that reminded her forcibly of the late Captain Dunbar.
+
+"Oh, Heriot!" she expostulated. "Remember you're the father of a
+grown-up family."
+
+"Well," he replied, with amorous facetiousness, "what man has done, man
+can do."
+
+The lady endeavored gently to withdraw her hand, but he held it firmly.
+
+"Will it be a long engagement?" she asked, with a colder smile.
+
+"By Jove, not very!" he whispered riotously.
+
+She felt like one of those intelligent persons who pull the triggers of
+supposititiously unloaded guns. By a supreme effort she mastered her
+emotion and remarked--
+
+"I wonder what your family will say."
+
+He kissed her demonstratively and cried--
+
+"My family be hanged! I'm not going to tell them yet."
+
+"When will you?" she asked, disengaging herself with a difficulty that
+impressed her still further.
+
+"Time enough when I get back from London."
+
+The widow was not altogether unsophisticated. This blend of abandonment
+and secrecy impressed her unfavorably. She had known of more than one
+ballroom proposal where the gentleman was just sufficiently master of
+his emotions to stipulate for silence till he had departed on a
+twelvemonth's furlough.
+
+"How soon are you coming back?" she inquired.
+
+"Week or two," he answered airily.
+
+"A week or two to see Colonel Munro!"
+
+"Intricate business," he answered her, with a fresh salute.
+
+"Poor old Charles Munro is a kind of relation of mine," she observed.
+
+He eyed her with more surprise than passion.
+
+"Oh! I didn't know that."
+
+"I haven't written to him for years. I think I must send him a letter
+this week."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw realized that he was marrying brains as well as beauty.
+He also realized that Colonel Munro was now part of his London
+programme. However, on second thoughts, Charlie Munro was a dear old
+fellow, and very likely he'd have been looking him up in any case. His
+spirits bounded up again. In fact, why should they ever sink with such a
+fair creature by his side?
+
+"Do, darling," he whispered.
+
+She surrendered herself to his affection and sighed happily. Why should
+she feel disturbed with one of the most respectable of Writers to the
+Signet pledged to devote his declining years to her consolation?
+
+"I trust you, Heriot," she murmured.
+
+"My little duck!" he answered tenderly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At twelve o'clock next morning the London express thundered on to the
+bridge across the Solway. Mr. Walkingshaw looked up at his son.
+
+"We're out of Scotland now," he said, with a sigh of reminiscent ardor.
+"Home and beauty are far behind us, Frank."
+
+Then in a different key he added--
+
+"It is curious that my spirits should keep rising."
+
+From which it appeared that he had grown young enough to realize that
+though lunch may be over, there is always dinner to look forward to.
+
+
+
+
+PART III
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Colonel Munro drew the ends of his white tie through the loop in the
+middle with infinite care. In a very wide circle of acquaintances he was
+universally known as "Charlie" Munro; and you had only to look at him to
+see how appropriate was this gallant diminutive. His head was bald at
+the top, but cleanly and beautifully bald, like a head of the finest
+marble; on either side and behind, his hair was both white and curly;
+his eye was bright, his features remarkably handsome, his mustache a
+slender ornament of silver, and his figure tall and slender. At
+sixty-three he was probably handsomer than he had ever been before in
+his life; and that was saying a great deal. He lived in very pleasant
+bachelor chambers in St. James' under the charge of a competent valet.
+
+"Let me see that card again," he said, as he gave his tie those little
+finishing touches that converted it from an elegant accessory into a
+work of art.
+
+The valet went to his sitting-room and returned with a calling card on
+a tray. Colonel Munro studied it a trifle lugubriously.
+
+"James Heriot Walkingshaw," he read, with this addendum in pencil,
+"Shall call for you 7:30. Count on your company at dinner."
+
+The Colonel buttoned his white waistcoat.
+
+"Didn't you tell Mr. Walkingshaw that I would probably be engaged?" he
+asked.
+
+"Well, sir," said the valet smoothly, "the gentleman seemed such an old
+friend of yours, I thought perhaps you wouldn't like to miss him."
+
+"One's oldest friends are sometimes d----d nuisances, Forman."
+
+The Colonel saw the pleasant evening he had contemplated spending in the
+society of two or three of the gayest old bloods in London darkening
+into a _tete-a-tete_ with Mr. Walkingshaw at his portentously
+respectable club, and regretted he had allowed Forman to lay out a clean
+white waistcoat; for he was, by force of circumstances, economical as
+well as gallant.
+
+"I tell you what," said he, "I don't mean to wait a minute after 7:30.
+If he turns up late, you can make my apologies, and say I'll be happy to
+lunch with him to-morrow."
+
+He put on his coat, added an overcoat and white scarf, cocked his opera
+hat on his shapely old head, and sat confronting his sitting-room clock.
+At 7:29 he rose briskly, and then with a sigh sank back into his chair.
+He heard a footstep on the stair.
+
+"Mr. Walkingshaw," announced the valet.
+
+The Colonel advanced with that courteous smile for which he was
+renowned.
+
+"My dear Charlie!" cried his visitor.
+
+"Well, Heriot," smiled the Colonel, looking a little surprised at the
+remarkable joviality of this greeting.
+
+He surveyed his old friend up and down, and seemed still more surprised.
+
+"What a buck you are!" he exclaimed.
+
+In truth, Mr. Walkingshaw, arrayed in a new opera hat, a new and shining
+pair of dress boots, and a fashionable new overcoat, cut a very
+different figure from the sedate W.S. of the Colonel's previous
+acquaintance.
+
+Heriot looked a trifle self-conscious.
+
+"I hope I haven't overdone the thing," said he.
+
+"Not a bit," smiled the Colonel, as a bright inspiration struck him.
+"The only criticism I'd make is that you are really thrown away on the
+members of your very sedate club, Heriot."
+
+"Oh, but I didn't mean to dine you at my club."
+
+Colonel Munro opened his eyes and smiled again.
+
+"Where do you propose?"
+
+"Well, I thought perhaps you might advise me."
+
+"Let me see," mused Charlie, with a pleasant air.
+
+"What about the Carlton?"
+
+"First-rate, if you care to run to that."
+
+"I've booked a table there on spec," said Heriot.
+
+The Colonel beamed.
+
+"I say, you're coming out, Heriot. Blowing the expense this time, what?"
+
+"I don't care what I spend!" replied his old friend, in a burst of
+confidence.
+
+"Then let's start," said the Colonel. "Like to take a cab?"
+
+"I've got one waiting."
+
+"After you," said Charlie, holding the door open.
+
+He was struck by the agility with which his old friend descended the
+stairs, and smiled afresh at the increasing possibilities of the
+situation.
+
+"I say, this is very pleasant," beamed Mr. Walkingshaw as they jingled
+off in a hansom.
+
+Rather bashfully he took from his overcoat pocket a pair of dazzling
+white kid gloves.
+
+"These are the proper things in the evening, aren't they?" he inquired.
+"I notice you've got on a pair."
+
+His guest chuckled.
+
+"They'll do to dance in afterwards if we go on to Covent Garden," he
+laughed, and then added waggishly, "How would you like to go to a fancy
+dress ball, Heriot?"
+
+"Is there one on to-night?" asked Heriot.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Are you going?"
+
+"Oh, I've given up that sort of thing years ago; but of course, if
+you're keen to go, I might stretch a point."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw looked at him doubtfully out of the corner of his eye
+and answered nothing.
+
+A little later the two old friends had grown more merrily confidential
+than they had been since the days of their youth. Charlie Munro was a
+little puzzled by the subtle alteration in his host, but he was not in
+the least disposed to criticize it. He felt more and more inclined to
+tempt him into a further display of frivolity.
+
+"Well, now, what about the Covent Garden ball?" he suggested.
+
+Heriot's eyes grew bright, but his mouth pursed cautiously.
+
+"Aren't they rather--er--fast?" he inquired.
+
+"As fast as you choose to make 'em."
+
+"But aren't the ladies rather--er--rather--well--"
+
+"Not a bit," said the Colonel. "There's a mixture, that's all."
+
+"But I say, Charlie, what about being seen by any one we know?"
+
+"We'll get a disguise for you," smiled Charlie.
+
+"Really, can you?"
+
+"Oh, I'll see to that."
+
+He began to picture a very amusing evening with his old friend Heriot.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw drank off his glass of champagne.
+
+"Well, if you're game--" said he.
+
+"I'm game for anything, my dear fellow, so long as I've you by my side,"
+laughed Charlie. "When you're tired, I'll promise to take you away.
+Shall we call it arranged?"
+
+"I'll risk it," said Heriot stoutly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+Round came the big man in the purple domino and the long false nose,
+hopping blithely to the crashing waltz, his arm encircling the waist of
+a little lady attired to represent a hot cross-bun. Then he was lost in
+the crowd, and the Colonel's eyes, in which for a moment a spark of
+wonder had burned, grew old and tired again. As he stood there alone,
+with youth and recklessness gamboling before him, he realized somberly
+that for him this revel was ended. How he would have enjoyed it once!
+But never, never again. His straight, soldierly back bent with
+weariness; he jerked back his shoulders, but they slipped forward,
+forward, and he let them stay. How little the fair faces interested him;
+how stupidly riotous these young fellows were!
+
+Round came the false nose again, and this time the empurpled figure
+unclasped one hand of the hot cross-bun and waved a genial greeting as
+they stampeded by. And again a gleam, almost of fear, lit the Colonel's
+weary eyes. It was horrible, grotesque, inhuman, to see the friend of
+his youth, a man older than himself, the honored head of a respectable
+firm, the father of five grown-up children, going on like this. The
+Colonel had thought it would be funny, but as hour succeeded hour, and
+the ringleader of the frolic gradually became a wearied spectator, this
+superhuman display of high-spirited energy grew long past a joke.
+Charlie had never been austere, but there were limits to all things.
+Good Gad, there were limits! If the man had got drunk or grown vicious,
+he might have excused him. But to see him interminably bounding round
+that floor behind six inches of pasteboard nose! He began to move away.
+He could stand the spectacle no longer.
+
+Again the false nose hopped by, and this time disengaged himself
+hurriedly from his partner and hastened after the retiring Colonel.
+
+"You're not going, Charlie?" he cried.
+
+His friend turned and stared at him piteously.
+
+"For Heaven's sake, take off that nose, Heriot!"
+
+The W.S. removed it with a laugh.
+
+"Put it on yourself, Charlie, and have a turn with my partner," he
+urged. "She dances really magnificently, you know."
+
+Colonel Munro laid his hand beseechingly upon his arm.
+
+"Come home, Heriot! You'll be devilish sorry for this to-morrow, as it
+is; and if you dance any more, by Gad, you may kill yourself! My dear
+fellow, think of your age."
+
+Heriot received this objection with a cheerful laugh.
+
+"You're not going yourself, surely?" he inquired.
+
+"I am."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw looked at him anxiously.
+
+"I say, you do look tired, Charlie. How's that?"
+
+"I am sixty-three," replied the Colonel, with an instinctive lowering of
+his voice. He never stated his age if he could help it.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw continued to gaze at him oddly.
+
+"I had forgotten how one feels at that time of life," he said musingly,
+"quite forgotten. Poor old Charlie; I oughtn't to have kept you up so
+late. I'd have felt like that at sixty-three myself. Well, my dear
+fellow, I'm glad we were able to have this night together before it
+became too late. It has made me feel quite old again to see you."
+
+Colonel Munro seized his arm and drew him towards the door, with all the
+vehemence of which he was capable.
+
+"Come along--come along, Heriot!" he implored him; "you have had a
+little more to drink than you quite realize!"
+
+Heriot disengaged himself very easily from his trembling grip.
+
+"My poor old boy," he smiled, "I'm as sober as you were when you
+started! I positively require the exercise. Besides, you must remember
+that this sort of thing is only just beginning for me; don't grudge me
+my fling. Get you to bed as quick as you can, Charlie. Sleep is what
+you're needing."
+
+"And do you know what you need?" exclaimed the Colonel, with another
+grab at his sleeve.
+
+"A taste of life!" cried Heriot, evading his old fingers with wonderful
+agility, and slipping on his pasteboard nose.
+
+He waved a gay farewell, threw his arm round the waist of the hot
+cross-bun, and waltzed out of the Colonel's vision.
+
+It was not till two hours later that Heriot Walkingshaw, smiling with
+reminiscent pleasure and perspiring freely, set out on foot for his
+hotel. A brisk walk in the early morning air was the only pick-me-up
+_he_ needed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+During their descent upon the Metropolis of England, Mr. Walkingshaw and
+his son were residing at the Hotel Gigantique, that stately new pile in
+Piccadilly, so styled, it is understood, from the bills presented when
+you leave. On the morning after his evening spent with Charlie Munro,
+they met as usual at breakfast. Fortunately, the state of Mr.
+Walkingshaw's health did not in the least seem to justify the
+forebodings of his friend. On the contrary, he tackled a fried sole with
+confidence, even with ardor, and put a great deal of cream into his
+coffee.
+
+"What were you about last night?" he inquired genially.
+
+"I dined with one or two fellows at the Rag," said Frank.
+
+"Doesn't sound very lively," observed his father, "that's to say, at
+your age," he hastened to add; for he still believed in retaining the
+confidence of his children.
+
+Frank smiled dreamily. This "bust" in town was proving less solacing
+than he had hoped. Now that he had got here, he found himself too
+lovelorn to bust with any relish. At the same time, it was pleasant and
+soothing to enjoy each day the society of so charming a parent. Any
+disquietude he felt at the singular nature of the change had been
+allayed by one of his friends, an R.A.M.C. man, who assured him that a
+serious illness at his father's time of life was not infrequently
+followed by a marked rejuvenation of the patient; so that he was able to
+regard with unqualified gratitude the generosity and kindness of the
+truant Writer to the Signet.
+
+"What were you doing yourself?" he inquired presently.
+
+"Dining with Colonel Munro," replied his father, truthfully if a trifle
+meagerly.
+
+He sipped his coffee, and then remarked--
+
+"Poor Charlie Munro is growing old, I'm afraid. He knocks up very
+easily."
+
+He sighed and added, "It's a melancholy thing, Frank, my boy, to see
+one's old friends slipping away from one."
+
+"What! Is he seriously ill?" asked Frank.
+
+"Oh, I don't mean that. I mean--well, everything has its compensating
+disadvantages. Mine is that my contemporaries are outgrowing me.
+Charlie and I started the evening in capital style; he was up to
+anything, and I was on for anything. But by the end of the night we were
+quite out of sympathy. The fact is, he is still in the sixties. However,
+my duty has been done; I've seen him, and that's over."
+
+He helped himself to some more fish, and continued with animation--
+
+"Now I can carry out my idea! I may or may not set about it the right
+way, but I do want to make you all happy Frank."
+
+It was perhaps well for his continued equanimity that during the first
+part of this speech Frank was lost in contemplation of a singularly
+vivid image of Ellen Berstoun. She had a distracting habit of appearing
+like that to the young soldier, of which he was unable to cure her. He
+started out of his reverie with the last words.
+
+"My dear father, you're the best sportsman I know," he replied warmly.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw looked highly gratified at this compliment.
+
+"That's what I'm aiming at," he answered.
+
+He leaned over the table and continued confidentially--
+
+"Of course you are happy, Frank. There's really nothing Providence could
+do for you except put a little money in your pocket, and give you a good
+time--eh?"
+
+"Oh--er--nothing."
+
+"What's the matter? That doesn't sound very cheerful."
+
+"I assure you I'm as cheerful as--er--er--anything," said Frank
+heroically.
+
+"I was sure of it. But poor Jean--she's got her troubles, eh, Frank?"
+
+Frank warmed up at his sister's name.
+
+"She has," he admitted.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw thoughtfully piled several slices of bacon on his plate.
+It would have reassured Colonel Munro greatly to have seen him.
+
+"I wish I was sure that Vernon was good enough for her."
+
+Frank looked up quickly.
+
+"I don't think anybody is quite good enough for Jean; but Lucas Vernon
+is really a deuced fine fellow."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw still seemed doubtful.
+
+"A bit lazy, I'm afraid."
+
+"I assure you he's not," said Frank. "He works, sir, like the very
+dickens."
+
+"He can't sell his pictures," replied his father. "I'll never believe in
+an artist till he can sell what he paints."
+
+"The difficulty for a painter is to get hold of the right man--the
+fellow with the money," urged Frank.
+
+"That's a mere matter of time," said his father; "they are sure to meet
+sooner or later, and then the point is, has he painted anything worth
+selling? If Vernon can manage to prove that, I may begin to believe in
+him. If he's a fraud it is time the thing was stopped for Jean's sake."
+
+He looked much more like the old Heriot Walkingshaw than he had for some
+weeks. Then he smiled, though still with an exceedingly shrewd air.
+
+"Well," he concluded, "we'll see."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+There is a by-street which opens out of the King's Road, Chelsea, and
+for a short distance pursues a course as respectable as the early career
+of Mr. Walkingshaw. Then, not unlike that gentleman, it diverges at
+right angles; and having once begun, goes on doubling for the remainder
+of its existence, shedding, as it gets round each corner, the more
+orthodox houses that once bore it company, till at last it becomes a
+mere devious lane, the haunt of low eccentric buildings; in places,
+owing to a casual tree or two, positively shady. The eccentric
+buildings, one is not greatly surprised to hear, are nothing more
+decorous than the studios of Bohemian painters. Such are the dangers of
+deviating from a straight and adequately lamp-lit route.
+
+In one of these studios a young man fiercely painted. His powerful,
+loosely clad figure stepped nervously back and forward, his brush
+now poised trembling in the air, now dabbing and swishing on the
+long-suffering canvas. His mop of brown hair had started the day brushed
+back and comparatively sleek; it was now a mere tousel. His butterfly
+tie had been a thing of some esthetic pretensions; it was become a
+tangle of silk. His smile had been bland and his manner courteous; he
+now resembled a buffalo with a bullet in it.
+
+"The beastly thing won't come right!" he roared.
+
+Another young man reclined upon a deck-chair in company with three
+cushions. His appearance was equally artistic, but he seemed less
+strenuous. He was pale, slim, rather pretty than handsome, and
+engagingly polite.
+
+"Cheer up, dear old fellow," he suggested.
+
+"Damn!" muttered Lucas.
+
+He toiled in agitated silence for some minutes, and then burst out
+again.
+
+"No one will ever exhibit the thing; no one will ever look twice at it;
+there's not a fool big enough in England to buy it! And it's all but the
+best bit of work I've ever done."
+
+"That 'all but' lets you down, I suppose," observed the other gently.
+
+"One could fill a lunatic asylum with you alone," replied the painter.
+"Why don't you go off and do some work instead of exhibiting your
+incompetence here?"
+
+"I told you I'd a headache," said the young man in the chair languidly.
+
+"What the devil's in your head to ache beats me," declared Lucas,
+accompanying this unkind speech by a brutal onslaught on the canvas.
+
+"Dear Lucas!" smiled his friend. "You seem to have come under some
+softening influence lately. Can you be in love?"
+
+The painter turned and confronted him with a less furious air.
+
+"You know I am," he replied, and strode to the end of the studio and
+back, while the other contemplated him in pitying silence.
+
+"I feel a fraud, Hillary," he resumed.
+
+"So long as you aren't found out--" began Hillary.
+
+"I have found myself out," retorted Lucas. "I boasted I could make an
+income for her--and look at this daub!"
+
+"The public likes daubs."
+
+"If they know the signature; yes, by all means. But who knows mine?"
+
+"Some Jews are great picture-buyers," suggested Hillary.
+
+An answering gleam lit Lucas's eye for an instant, and then burned out.
+
+"For the artist there are three ways of making a living," he pronounced.
+"One is painting for the million--children with rosy cheeks and large
+wheelbarrows; beds with angels hovering over them and kind doctors with
+stethoscopes sitting beside them--that sort of thing--the obvious road
+to the heart. The second is hitting the superior kind of idiot in the
+eye--inventing a cheap new formula--putting a goblin upside down in one
+corner, an immoral-looking woman in another, and passing the arrangement
+off as an allegory. Then up jumps an interpreter and booms you. The
+third is slowly making your name by the sweat of your brow, and selling
+your pictures when you are fifty-five to people who never recognized
+their merit till they had been told you were famous."
+
+"Well," said Hillary, "that gives you a biggish target."
+
+"Does it? I have no popular knack; I lack the conjurer's instincts; and
+I don't mean to wait for Jean Walkingshaw till I am fifty-five."
+
+"Must it be she?" asked Hillary.
+
+"It must!"
+
+"Her father won't help?"
+
+"If he wasn't so infernally respectable he'd shoot me at sight."
+
+"Run away with her. Once you've got her, he won't be heathen enough to
+let her starve."
+
+"In the first place," replied Lucas, "she wouldn't run away with me.
+That's the infernal, charming, irritating, splendid thing about her--she
+is true to us both."
+
+"Won't chuck you and won't chuck the old boy either?"
+
+Lucas nodded.
+
+"The thing can be done," said Hillary languidly; "it only wants a little
+energy and enterprise. Great achievements are never accomplished by
+slackness. Woman was created to yield to the energetic advances of man.
+Remember that, Luc--"
+
+"Besides," interrupted the painter, who had paid singularly little
+attention to this stirring speech, "I happen to be handicapped by a
+little pride. Can you imagine me helping her to compose begging letters
+to her father? 'We are in great distress this winter, and a check for
+twenty pounds will be gratefully, etc. etc. etc.!' Can you see me
+stooping to that sort of thing? What?"
+
+"I merely threw out the idea as it were tentatively," said Hillary
+mildly.
+
+Lucas gave his mustaches a fierce twist and planted himself firmly with
+his back to the despised picture.
+
+"It must have been a practical joke of the Devil's that gave Jean that
+father and then threw me in her way. Old Heriot Walkingshaw is one of
+those men who were created as an antidote to human affection. He stands
+between his children's hearts and the sunshine outside like the brick
+wall of a prison. His virtues are those of a paperweight. Neither his
+daughter nor his fortune are likely to blow away while he is planted on
+them; and there his merits end."
+
+"What a dreadful fellow," murmured Hillary.
+
+"And the worst of such fellows is that they are infectious. One can
+catch grimness and hardness of soul just as one can catch high spirits
+and courage. Bah! I won't think of him any more. I'll have another shot
+at this thing."
+
+He took his brush again and faced the canvas. For a few minutes he
+labored painfully, and then turned with an exclamation.
+
+"The memory of the old devil has got into my brush--" he began, and then
+stopped.
+
+There was a knock upon the studio door.
+
+"Hullo! A patron?" said Hillary.
+
+"A dun more probably," muttered Lucas.
+
+He opened the door and found himself confronting the rubicund
+countenance and imposing form of Heriot Walkingshaw. Over the shoulder
+of this apparition he looked into the clear eyes of Frank. They were
+trying to convey a caution to use whatever tact he possessed; but the
+artist was too dumbfounded to heed them.
+
+"Well?" he demanded.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+"Good-day, Mr. Vernon," said his guest.
+
+He held out his hand, and Lucas mechanically shook it.
+
+"May we come in?" he asked.
+
+"If you want to--certainly," said Lucas; and they entered.
+
+"A fellow-artist, I presume?" inquired Mr. Walkingshaw, glancing at the
+pale and pretty youth.
+
+Lucas automatically introduced them.
+
+"Very happy to meet you, Mr. Hillary," said the W.S. genially. "Let me
+introduce my son."
+
+Leaving the two young men to entertain each other, he walked aside for a
+few paces with his host. His countenance was composed and his air
+dignified; though, as he thoughtlessly took Vernon's arm to direct his
+partially paralyzed movements, the artist began dimly to apprehend that
+no overt outrage was premeditated.
+
+"I say," he began in that pleasantly unconventional vein which appeared
+to afford his vigorous reflections the readiest outlet, "this must seem
+a bit odd and so on, but why the deuce should we go on quarreling just
+because we've once begun? We're above that, eh?"
+
+"I have no wish--" began the artist.
+
+"Exactly, exactly," interrupted his visitor breezily; "we both mean the
+same thing, so that's all right. Perhaps we misunderstood each other on
+a previous occasion. Of course perhaps we didn't--we may be a couple of
+scoundrels just as we imagined, eh? Ha, ha! Still, let's assume there
+was a little misunderstanding. Now what have you been painting?"
+
+The artist's blue eyes looked at him fixedly.
+
+"I am addressing the same Mr. Heriot Walkingshaw?" he inquired in a
+voice compounded of several emotions.
+
+"The same, my dear fellow--essentially the same. I look
+better--younger--fitter, I dare say, eh?"
+
+"Yes," said Lucas, still eyeing him curiously, "you do."
+
+"But you see I am still Frank's father."
+
+He laughed genially, and this argument at last seemed to convince the
+young man that he was not the victim of a strange delusion.
+
+"I am sorry for being a little hasty--" he began, with a candid smile.
+
+"Not at all," interrupted Mr. Walkingshaw good-humoredly. "Don't mention
+it. There was a lady in the case; that's excuse enough for any two men
+quarreling. By the way, my daughter is not with me, but she would no
+doubt wish to have her kind regards--that is to say--well, well, let me
+see the pictures."
+
+In the course of this speech the affable gentleman had been reminded by
+the senior partner that one must be careful not to commit oneself
+rashly. It was odd how often he required these warnings nowadays--and
+how frequently they came just half a sentence too late.
+
+"Brush been busy?" he added hastily.
+
+Lucas pointed to a dozen or more canvases stacked against the wall.
+
+"Fairly," he said.
+
+"May I look at them? Oh, don't trouble to take them off the floor. I'll
+just turn them over for myself, if I may."
+
+He stooped over the stack and moved each canvas in turn till he could
+catch a glimpse of its face. With this ocular demonstration that there
+actually were pictures upon all of them he seemed content, for he
+turned to his host with an approving smile.
+
+"You have not been altogether idle, then?"
+
+"Altogether idle!"
+
+Hillary turned at the exclamation.
+
+"Poor old Lucas is working himself to death," he said, with his gentle
+and insinuating air.
+
+"Indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Walkingshaw, and surveyed the artist with
+increased respect.
+
+"Hillary is inclined to talk--" began Lucas, but was silenced by a
+ferocious stamp of Frank's boot.
+
+"Hush, you idiot!" he murmured.
+
+"No, Lucas," said his friend readily, "I am not inclined to talk as a
+rule, but I cannot bear to hear you maligned. I never saw a man work as
+you do."
+
+"Is that your candid opinion of our friend?" smiled Mr. Walkingshaw with
+a pleasant air.
+
+"It feebly endeavors to express my opinion," replied the engaging young
+man. "He paints on an average one picture per six hours of daylight; and
+the most astounding thing sir, is their consistently high merit."
+
+Lucas looked decidedly uncomfortable.
+
+"I don't sell them, unfortunately," he blurted out.
+
+The W.S. turned grave.
+
+"None of them?" he inquired.
+
+"I haven't sold much lately."
+
+"How's that?"
+
+"The public is not yet educated up to him," said Hillary. "But between
+ourselves, Mr. Walkingshaw, if I had a thousand pounds at this moment, I
+should put it all in Vernons; they'll be worth five thousand in ten
+years' time at a modest estimate--a very modest estimate."
+
+"You are a critic?" inquired the W.S.
+
+"I am considered so," answered the youth modestly.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw turned to the embarrassed artist.
+
+"At the same time, I gather that whatever your merits, this is one of
+your lean years, eh?"
+
+"Devilish," said Lucas.
+
+"That must be discouraging?"
+
+"It might be if I let it."
+
+"That is a damned good answer, Vernon," said Mr. Walkingshaw
+emphatically.
+
+Before the three young men had recovered from the sympathetic surprise
+which this reply occasioned, he had planted himself in front of the
+unfinished picture on the easel.
+
+"What's this you're doing? A wood? Ah, yes, I recognize the trees. Very
+lifelike indeed--most creditable. What's the price of it, if I may ask?"
+
+"What I can get," replied Lucas, with a reminiscence of his afternoon's
+despair.
+
+"Still the same unpractical fellow!" smiled Mr. Walkingshaw. "You're not
+very strong on figures, eh?"
+
+"I don't meet many," said the artist candidly.
+
+"Well," suggested his visitor kindly, "what about fifty pounds?"
+
+"I'd think myself devilish lucky."
+
+"May I have it at that?"
+
+"_You?_"
+
+"It isn't booked already, I trust?"
+
+"N--no."
+
+"That's a bargain, then?"
+
+Lucas's eyes were again fixed in a strange stare. Then a quick change of
+expression broke over his face.
+
+"You're very kind, Mr. Walkingshaw!" he said warmly.
+
+"Tuts, tuts, not a bit. I want to warm up my study with a splash of
+color. That's the way you artists would put it. Eh?"
+
+"A splash of color--yes."
+
+"You see, I'm getting the hang of your lingo already, Vernon. And now,
+what else have you got for sale? What do you recommend, Hillary, eh?"
+
+That young man displayed a sudden aptitude for business which had never
+characterized his own efforts to make a livelihood.
+
+"As a work of art likely to rise enormously in value, I conscientiously
+recommend that," he said, pointing to another canvas.
+
+"A nice head," commented Mr. Walkingshaw. "High-toned yet spiritual, one
+might term it. I like the way the eyes seem to look out of the paper--or
+is it canvas it's done on?"
+
+"Oh--er--I beg your pardon," said Lucas, waking suddenly from his
+reverie; "I--I'll let you have that thrown in."
+
+"Wits a wool-gathering, Vernon?" smiled his patron indulgently. "But I
+dare say you've some excuse. I'll take the picture with pleasure, but I
+insist on paying for it. Let us put this at twenty-five pounds."
+
+"I won't let you!" cried Lucas. "I give it you--I make you a present of
+it. You've been so kind already--"
+
+"Pooh! Come, come," interrupted Mr. Walkingshaw kindly, yet firmly.
+"You've got to make your way, and how will you do that if you give away
+your--fruits of the brush you'd call them, I suppose, eh?"
+
+The artist could not but admit the force of this argument, and in the
+course of an hour had the satisfaction of selling, at considerably above
+his usual market price, no fewer than four of his masterpieces; while
+Mr. Walkingshaw, on his part, became the fortunate possessor of a
+promising but unfinished sylvan scene, the portrait of an unknown lady,
+a rainy day upon the Norfolk coast, and (what he considered the gem of
+the collection) a recognizable panorama of Edinburgh from the north,
+including among its minor details a splash of red ocher which he felt
+certain was the grand stand at the Scottish Union's football field. This
+recalled the sympathetic widow, and gave the picture a sentimental as
+well as an artistic value. He could have wished that on this, as indeed
+on most other occasions, the artist had paid more attention to
+verisimilitude and less to mere vague harmonies and so forth, but as he
+was assured by that intelligent young Hillary that this method was all
+the Go at present, and that his friend Lucas was recognized as a rising
+Dab at it. That at least is how he retailed the argument afterwards.
+
+At the conclusion of these arrangements he again drew the artist aside.
+
+"Would you like a check immediately," he inquired, "or upon delivery of
+the pictures?"
+
+With considerable animation Lucas assured him there was no hurry at all.
+
+"There is a distinction between punctuality and hurry," replied Mr.
+Walkingshaw. "I recommend it to your notice, Vernon. As to the date of
+payment, I suggest by the first post after the delivery of the pictures.
+Does that satisfy you?"
+
+"Quite," said the painter, with a subdued air.
+
+"Strenuous work, patience, and the cultivation of business habits are
+the recommendations I make to you, my dear fellow--as I would to any
+other young man. They have been, if I may say so, the secret of any
+little success I may have achieved myself. Good-by, Vernon, good-by!"
+
+He departed thus upon a note of austere benevolence, leaving behind him
+a grateful yet chastened artist.
+
+"Well, Frank," said he, as they drove back together, "that young fellow
+has managed to sell one or two pictures, I'm glad to find."
+
+His eyes twinkled merrily as he spoke, but before his son had time to
+reply the senior partner spoke again.
+
+"I only hope he keeps it up," was his addendum.
+
+For a young man, Frank had remarkable discretion (apart from his one
+lamentable lapse). He dutifully agreed with this sentiment, and then
+proceeded to congratulate his parent on the taste with which he had
+selected his pictures and the excellence of the investment he had made.
+Mr. Walkingshaw appeared gratified by his approval.
+
+"I don't throw my money away, Frank," he said complacently. "By the way,
+what's the cab fare?"
+
+"One and six," said Frank.
+
+In the temporary absence of the senior partner, Mr. Walkingshaw handed
+the man half a crown, and entered the hotel humming a romantic melody.
+
+As he crossed the hall a deferential attendant approached with a
+telegram.
+
+"Hullo!" said he, "a wire. I wonder who the deuce this is from."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+It is a lamentable fact, remarked upon even by popular politicians, that
+the very measures which give the highest satisfaction to some people
+produce the profoundest depression in others. And it is worth adding
+that it is not always the most original reflections which have procured
+for their authors the widest reputation (though, if one wanted to quote
+an authority for this last axiom, one would perhaps turn rather to the
+popular theologians).
+
+Of the truth of the first proposition, that worthy young man, Andrew
+Walkingshaw, was an unhappy example. It is the case that his parent's
+disappearance was not without compensating advantages. He was spared a
+number of minor annoyances, which of late had been the undeserved
+accompaniment of his blameless life; but then, the mystery of that
+disappearance, its unorthodoxy, its appalling suggestions of scandal!
+He knew now what it must feel like to have a relative engaged upon
+fashionable divorce proceedings or conspicuously notorious on
+the music-hall stage. For, despite his industry in circulating a
+circumstantial account of the business that had called the head of the
+firm so suddenly away, he thought he observed in the face of every
+acquaintance a kind of sly and knowing expression. "Aha!" every one of
+them seemed to say, "I've got my knife into _you_, Andrew!"
+
+Beneath the roof of the respectable mansion in which he had hitherto
+spent a life unsullied by mystery or romance he found, to his horror,
+that these sinister manifestations were even more marked than in his
+club. The restored happiness of Jean was a bad sign, very ominous under
+the circumstances. It is true that she professed complete ignorance of
+their father's movements, but Andrew was too astute a lawyer to pay much
+attention to what people said; it was how they behaved that he went by;
+and Jean's conduct was suspicious. Why should she be smiling while this
+dark cloud hung over their reputations? The like of that looked very
+bad. He resolved to probe the matter a bit further.
+
+"There's some one wanting to know where Frank has got to," he began,
+with an ingenuous air, when he met her next.
+
+"What does he want to see him about?" inquired Jean.
+
+"He didn't say, but I thought perhaps you had heard Frank mention where
+he was going. Did you by any chance?"
+
+His air remained as ingenuous as ever, but Jean looked at him
+doubtfully. For a moment she hesitated.
+
+"Yes," she said.
+
+"Oh, where was it?"
+
+"Of course I don't know whether he has gone there."
+
+"The chances are he has," said Andrew. "What was his intention?"
+
+"Who was the man that wanted to know?"
+
+Andrew was particularly scrupulous never to deviate far from the high
+road of truth. Of course there were footpaths alongside that led to the
+same place, and gave one a certain amount of latitude; but beyond these
+no moral or respectable man should venture. Supposing one were caught in
+an adjoining field cutting a corner!
+
+"That's neither here nor there," he said evasively.
+
+"Was there really anybody at all asking for him, or is the 'some one'
+yourself?"
+
+Her brother looked severe.
+
+"Look here, Jean," said he, "you know where he has gone--I've got that
+much out of you; and it's your duty to tell me."
+
+Her eyes were fixed on him steadily.
+
+"You think Frank and father have gone off together?"
+
+"I know nothing about that."
+
+"And that's why you are suddenly so curious about Frank?"
+
+He regarded her in injured silence; but instead of appearing affected by
+his unspoken reproach, she continued with an air of knowing both his
+intentions and her own.
+
+"If father wanted you to know he would have told you himself."
+
+"It is for his own sake I want to find out."
+
+"Then you admit you were trying to find out about father! What benefit
+would it be to him if you knew?"
+
+"It is most inconvenient at the office not knowing his address."
+
+"If it really were very inconvenient, father would be certain to think
+of that and send you his address himself."
+
+"He has not thought of it."
+
+"Well then, there can't be any great inconvenience."
+
+Not for the first time in his life Andrew wished that all humanity
+belonged to his own sensible, candid, trustworthy sex.
+
+"I tell you there is," he insisted.
+
+"I trust father implicitly," she replied.
+
+"Oh, you think his recent behavior has been the kind of thing to inspire
+confidence?"
+
+"It has in me!" she answered enthusiastically.
+
+"You have a high opinion of his sense," he sneered.
+
+"A great deal higher than I have of anybody else's in the world--in
+Edinburgh, anyhow!" she retorted, and with her chin held high broke off
+the conference.
+
+This was sufficiently exasperating, but it was not the worst that
+treacherous sex could do. The widow's demeanor was a hundred times more
+menacing. She was so motherly towards Jean, so sisterly towards his
+unfortunate aunt, so skittishly condescending towards himself, that his
+previous suspicions of her were sunshiny compared with the dark
+convictions that lay heavier upon him each day. Her black eyes danced
+mockingly whenever he looked into them; she seemed always to be hugging
+the most delicious secret. Andrew doubted she had hugged more than a
+secret in this house.
+
+It was a further confirmation of her perfidy that ever since his
+father's flight she had made a point of being down to breakfast before
+him, so that he could never see what letters she received. That was
+damning evidence against her--damnable evidence, in fact, for it argued
+a degree both of intelligence and energy for which he had not given her
+credit. Like his father before him, he was discovering that there was
+more up this sparkling lady's sleeve than met the eye.
+
+A few mornings after the disappearance he thought he had caught her.
+When he entered the room she was reading a letter. He snapped up the
+chance instantly.
+
+"Is that my father's writing?" he inquired, dissimulating his acuteness
+under an easy conversational air.
+
+"It's a little like it," she replied, with an amiable smile, slipping
+the letter into its envelop and turning that face downwards on the
+table.
+
+The W.S. began to respect as much as he detested her. All through
+breakfast she rippled with the happiest smiles and the gayest
+conversation. At the end, his detestation had again got its head in
+front of his respect.
+
+But the following morning he himself received a letter which threw the
+widow and her smiles so completely into the background that for the next
+forty-eight hours he was scarcely aware of her existence. It ran thus:
+
+                                 250 BURY STREET,
+                                   ST. JAMES', S.W.
+
+     "MY DEAR ANDREW,--It is with the greatest concern and regret that I
+     feel myself compelled to write to you on the subject of my old
+     friend, your poor father. No doubt you will be able to judge better
+     than myself how far he is responsible for his conduct, and whether
+     or not there is any serious need for anxiety; but I consider I
+     should be doing less than my duty if I failed to inform you of the
+     risks to his health and his reputation which he is running at
+     present. I spent last night with him; in fact, it was only in the
+     small hours of this morning that I left him still dancing at the
+     Covent Garden Fancy Ball. I assure you I am at a loss how to
+     express my consternation and alarm at his peculiar behavior. Are
+     you aware that he has taken to dyeing his hair and doctoring his
+     face, so that at first sight one might almost mistake him for a
+     much younger man than we know him to be? The extravagance of his
+     language and restlessness of his movements lends color to the
+     suspicion that he is a little wrong in his head. I do not wish to
+     alarm you unnecessarily, but if you had seen him galloping about in
+     a domino and a false nose at two o'clock in the morning I cannot
+     help thinking you would share my concern. He seems also to have
+     lost all his old caution about money matters. Are you aware that he
+     is stopping at the Hotel Gigantique, of all places, and doing
+     himself and your brother Frank like a couple of millionaires? I
+     cannot help considering this a very remarkable symptom.
+
+     "I myself am in bed to-day, so pray forgive the handwriting.--With
+     kind regards to you all, believe me, yours sincerely,
+
+                                   "CHARLES MUNRO."
+
+The firmament seemed to darken as though a thunderstorm brooded over the
+devoted house. Already in fancy Andrew could hear the first crashings
+and flashes of the coming scandal. His appetite vanished, his coffee
+grew cold, and presently he rose and silently left the room. Yet the man
+of superior mental equipment rarely fails to extract some crumbs of
+consolation out of the direst disaster. Andrew extracted his by
+summoning Jean before he started for the office and handing her the
+terrible letter. As he watched her read it, the phrase shaped by his
+countenance might be read without the aid of any signal-book--
+
+"What did I tell you?"
+
+Certainly there was a well-earned morsel of satisfaction to be derived
+from her startled eyes and the little catches in her breath. She could
+believe him now! When she spoke at last her first words were exceedingly
+gratifying.
+
+"What a horrid old man he must be!"
+
+He looked suitably reproachful.
+
+"That is strong language to use of your father."
+
+Her eyes blazed.
+
+"I am talking of Colonel Munro! The idea of giving father away like
+that. It's one of the very meanest things I ever heard of! I sincerely
+hope he may be in bed for a month."
+
+She swept away, and her brother was left to brood gloomily upon the
+selfish perversity that thus actually defrauded him of his legitimate
+triumph.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+"Well," said Andrew, "what is to be done?"
+
+The problem was undoubtedly delicate. He had paid it the compliment of
+summoning his two sensible married sisters to aid him with their
+counsel; and even they, though not lacking in decision as a rule,
+regarded first the Colonel's letter and then their brother with
+disturbed and doubtful eyes. He gave them no hint of the dreadful and
+disreputable change in their father's very being; that was positively
+too shocking to confide even to a sister (besides, they wouldn't have
+believed him), but he considered that the essentials of the problem were
+now fairly grasped by them both, and he was pleased to find a
+sympathetic unanimity of horror.
+
+"He can't be allowed to go on disgracing himself in London; that much is
+perfectly clear," said Mrs. Ramornie.
+
+"Not to speak of ruining us all," added Andrew.
+
+"Can you not go and fetch him home?" asked Mrs. Donaldson.
+
+Andrew pursed his lips.
+
+"In the first place, would he come? You know how infernally obstinate he
+can be. In the second place, do we want him making an exhibition of
+himself here?"
+
+"He would not have quite the opportunities here."
+
+"Not for spending money, I admit; but we don't want him taking the chair
+and making speeches at the W.S. dinner to-morrow night in his present
+condition."
+
+"Will he not remember and come back for it, anyhow?" suggested Mrs.
+Ramornie.
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"He has never spoken about it for a long while. I'm practically positive
+he has forgotten."
+
+"But do you not need him at the office?" asked Mrs. Donaldson.
+
+"_Need_ him!"
+
+"I can only tell you," she replied, "that Hector says he gets through
+business in a most surprising way, for all his eccentricity."
+
+"Very surprising," he retorted sarcastically.
+
+"Oh," she said airily, "I know you fancy yourself, but Hector declares
+father is the man for his money nowadays."
+
+Andrew's cheeks drooped gloomily. He had heard hints of this
+preposterous opinion once or twice lately, and they disgusted his sense
+of fitness. How could a man possibly be good at business if he rushed
+through it like a steam-engine? Supposing one of the telegraph posts at
+the side wanted a touch of tar, how could you notice it going at that
+pace! But what was the use in arguing with a woman?
+
+"Well, I can only tell you this," he snapped: "there's Madge Dunbar
+waiting for him here with her mouth open."
+
+The two sisters immediately relinquished all idea of bringing him home.
+
+"But if we let him stay in London, he'll be bankrupt in a month!" cried
+Andrew desperately.
+
+"What the deuce is to be done?"
+
+They pondered for a few minutes in silence, and then Mrs. Ramornie
+exclaimed, with an inspired air--
+
+"He must go abroad!"
+
+"And how are you going to manage that?" inquired Andrew.
+
+"You've got to go and take him."
+
+"Me!" he cried. "But--but, dash it, Maggie, he'll never go with _me_."
+
+"You will have to dissemble a little, of course; pretend you want a
+holiday too, and take him to--to, well, we must look up some inexpensive
+French watering-place."
+
+Gertrude smiled her approval.
+
+"That's the idea, Andrew! Go up in a white felt hat, and tell him you
+know of a naughty little place in France where you can get dancing.
+He'll jump at it!"
+
+Their brother regarded them with ever-increasing gloom.
+
+"That kind of thing is not in my line--" he began; but once more he was
+impressed with the disadvantages of a bi-sexual world. The two ladies
+seemed positively incapable of grasping his objections, either to
+wearing a Homburg hat or recommending a naughty French watering-place.
+
+"I don't insist on its being white; grey will do," said Mrs. Donaldson.
+
+"Of course, I should never dream of taking him to a really disreputable
+place," said Mrs. Ramornie; "you only want a Casino and a little
+promenading, and so on."
+
+"It will be great fun, Andrew!"
+
+"It is your duty, Andrew."
+
+"Yes, yes; of course we know you are an Elder of the Kirk and all the
+rest of it; but on an occasion, don't you know, Andrew!"
+
+"What alternative do you suggest, Andrew?"
+
+Yet he was still hanging fire when Jean entered. It had been tacitly
+understood that her presence was not required at the council of war,
+and the marked silence which followed her entry might reasonably have
+warned her that matters were being discussed too complicated for young
+unmarried girls. Yet she closed the door behind her and came forward
+with a quietly resolute air.
+
+"I've only just heard you were here," she said. "You are talking about
+father, I suppose."
+
+"We are," replied Mrs. Ramornie briefly.
+
+Jean sat down.
+
+"What have you decided?" she asked.
+
+"We have decided he should go abroad with Andrew for a little change."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Do you need to ask why, Jean? Surely you don't want him to go on making
+a fool of himself in London?"
+
+"I don't see why he shouldn't go to a dance occasionally if he wants
+to."
+
+"Go to a dance!" exclaimed Mrs. Donaldson.
+
+"My dear Jean! do you suppose this was an ordinary--"
+
+"Hush, Gertrude," said their brother austerely.
+
+"Anyhow," said Mrs. Ramornie, "it is quite settled that he must leave
+London at all costs, and that it is inadvisable he should return to
+Edinburgh at present."
+
+"But Aunt Mary was only saying to-day that he has to preside at a dinner
+to-morrow night."
+
+"Oh, he'll forget all about that," said Gertrude, "and, of course, we
+don't mean to remind him."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because he is not to be trusted at present," said Andrew.
+
+A quick flush irradiated Jean's clear face.
+
+"He _is_ to be trusted. He is to be trusted far more than ever before in
+his life!"
+
+The three counselors exchanged glances.
+
+"We know better than you do," said Mrs. Ramornie severely.
+
+But Jean was not easily to be quelled.
+
+"I think it will be a perfect shame if you allow father to forget his
+engagement," she protested.
+
+Her eldest sister's face grew more like Andrew's than ever.
+
+"He must _not_ come home at present, and we trust that Andrew will do
+his duty and not permit him to stay in London."
+
+"Andrew!" exclaimed Jean. "How can he prevent him?"
+
+Their brother hung back no longer.
+
+"I shall go up to London to-morrow morning," he announced.
+
+"Splendid!" cried Gertrude.
+
+He looked at her coldly.
+
+"I do not propose to do anything ridiculous. If I can get him to go to
+some place in the south of England and stop for a month or two, that
+will be quite sufficient; and I do not propose, either, to wear any
+other clothes than what I've got at present."
+
+Having thus asserted his independence of conduct and apparel, he turned
+again to Jean.
+
+"That is what we have decided," he said.
+
+She jumped up, her lip quivering a little. Then she controlled herself,
+and as she left the room only said quietly--
+
+"Thank you for telling me."
+
+The council was then able to conclude its deliberations without further
+interruption.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+After dinner that night, Andrew found Mrs. Dunbar alone in the
+drawing-room, and immediately turned to withdraw.
+
+"Are you not going to have coffee, Andrew?" she asked.
+
+There was something different in her manner; something almost nervous;
+something apparently less hostile. Andrew glanced at her suspiciously.
+What new move in her diabolical game did this signify?
+
+"I've got letters to write," he answered coldly, and shut the door
+decisively behind him.
+
+The fair widow sighed, and again picked up a letter lying in her lap and
+looked at it unhappily. She had kept her word and written to Charlie
+Munro, and unfortunately Heriot had forgotten to warn him that his
+answer to any such communication must be exceedingly discreet. No wonder
+she seemed distressed.
+
+Naturally, the junior partner gave his fair enemy no information
+regarding his movements. She saw him leave in the morning as usual,
+apparently to go to the office, and it was not till some time later
+that she learned from his aunt of his departure for London. Curiously
+enough, she seemed rather pleased than otherwise by this move. Her
+correspondence with Colonel Munro had left the most unsettling effects.
+
+Meanwhile, Andrew was nearing London. He was pleased to find his train
+arrive upon the stroke of 6:15, for he valued punctuality above
+everything except his reputation. From the station he drove to the large
+political club where he always put up, ate a dinner that exactly
+accorded with his station in life, and took a horse bus to the Hotel
+Gigantique. (Motor buses were only just beginning to be seen upon the
+streets at that time, and he was always suspicious of noisy
+innovations.)
+
+By the merest chance, the first person he saw in the hall of the hotel
+was Frank, attired in overcoat and opera hat, and evidently bound for
+some extravagant expedition, the cost of which would no doubt be
+defrayed by his parent to the detriment of his brother's and sisters'
+patrimony.
+
+"Well, Frank," said the elder brother, "where's your father?"
+
+The "your" was a subtle indication of the depth to which Mr.
+Walkingshaw had fallen in the estimation of the right-minded.
+
+"Out of town," said Frank briefly.
+
+"Where's he gone?"
+
+Frank shook his head.
+
+"You can ask at the office," he suggested.
+
+"Do you mean to say you don't know?"
+
+"I mean to say it's none of my business."
+
+Andrew had begun the conversation in a decidedly hectoring manner. He
+now began to alter his key a little.
+
+"Look here, Frank, things are pretty serious. We've got to stop this
+tomfoolery."
+
+The other interrupted him.
+
+"What tomfoolery?"
+
+"Making an exhibition of himself all over London, and wasting his money
+at a place like this. You know perfectly well what I mean."
+
+"I only know that he's in the best form I've ever seen him in my life.
+He's just a devilish kind and sporting guv'nor, that's what he is."
+
+"If you mean going about the most disreputable places in London in a
+half-intoxicated condition--"
+
+"That's a lie, anyhow," said Frank calmly, yet with a glint in his eye.
+
+His brother recoiled a pace, but his manner grew none the less
+uncompromising.
+
+"I suppose you'll say he's moving in fine high-class society, do you?"
+
+"It's a lot better than anything he ever found in his office."
+
+"Thank you," replied the junior partner; "and now perhaps you'll tell me
+when he's expected back?"
+
+"Day or two," said Frank shortly.
+
+Andrew pondered for a moment.
+
+"Oh?" he remarked at length, and without so much as a good-night he
+turned on his heel and walked out of the hotel.
+
+Frank's conscience harassed him for a long time after this interview.
+He wished he could be quite certain that his manner towards his brother
+was entirely the result of Andrew's disagreeable references to their
+father. He would be the most ill-conditioned sweep unkicked, the most
+dishonorable sneaking blackguard, if by any chance he had allowed his
+luckless passion to prejudice him! He began to wish he were back in
+India again. Was this beastly furlough never coming to an end? And so
+he drove off in his hansom, alternately sighing and cursing himself,
+to watch what he had selected from the pictures in the illustrated
+papers as the most sentimental drama in town.
+
+The advantage of living a well-regulated life was never better
+illustrated than in the person of his brother Andrew. No qualms of
+conscience annoyed him as he drove back economically in his bus. He
+knew that he was right, and that people who violated his standards,
+and disagreed with him impertinently were wrong; and secure in that
+knowledge, he was enabled to hug against his outraged feelings the warm
+consolation of a grievance. All through his life this form of moral
+hot-water bottle had kept Andrew snug during many a painful night. It is
+worth being consistently righteous for the mere privilege of possessing
+this invaluable perquisite.
+
+He decided to wait in London for twenty-four hours longer on the chance
+of his father returning, and so it happened that he found himself in his
+club reading-room on the following afternoon at the hour when the
+_Scotsman_ appeared to cheer the exiles from the north. He secured it at
+once, and with a consoling sense of homeliness proceeded to turn its
+familiar pages. All at once he was galvanized into the rigidity of a
+fire-iron--
+
+"Writers to the Signets' Annual Dinner. Remarkable speech by Mr. Heriot
+Walkingshaw."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a few minutes before he summoned up his courage to read any
+further.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     "Mr. Walkingshaw began by remarking that it was by the merest
+     chance he was present among them to-night. He had been so engrossed
+     by the attractions of London (laughter)--he did not mean what they
+     meant (renewed laughter)--that he had positively forgotten all
+     about his duty to his convivial fellow-practitioners till he was
+     reminded by a telegram from a young lady (a laugh). He alluded to
+     his daughter (cheers). Several morals might be drawn from this
+     little incident. The advantages of the sixpenny telegram and the
+     even greater advantages of getting on the right side of the fair
+     sex (cheers and laughter); these were two morals, but what he
+     proposed to bring more particularly under their notice to-night was
+     this: that if a respectable old chap like himself could enjoy
+     himself so thoroughly as to forget his duty, there was hope even
+     for the oldest of them (slight applause). What satisfaction was it
+     to become prosperous and respected if at the same time one became a
+     bugbear to one's children and a bore to one's acquaintances?
+     Supposing that one of the old and valued friends he saw before him
+     could suddenly see himself with the eyes of a young man of forty,
+     or better still of thirty, what would he think of himself?--He
+     would desire to drive a pin through the old fossil's trousers and
+     wake him up! (a laugh). He would realize he was out of touch with
+     life; that he was neglecting a dozen opportunities a day for giving
+     pleasure to people who were still young enough to enjoy themselves,
+     and thereby bucking himself up too. Mr. Walkingshaw begged his
+     audience, particularly that portion of it over fifty, to beware of
+     the fatal habit of growing old. How was this to be avoided? Well,
+     everybody could not hope to have his own good fortune, but he could
+     give them a few tips. In the first place, they should make a point
+     of falling in love at least twice a year (laughter). The old duffer
+     who ceased to fall in love was doomed. Then, while leading a
+     strictly abstemious life on six days of the week, they should let
+     themselves go a bit on the seventh; and when in that condition (a
+     laugh)--he did not mean 'blind fu',' but merely a little the
+     happier for it--while in that condition they should unlock their
+     cash boxes and distribute a substantial sum among the poor and
+     deserving young. Furthermore, they should make a point of mixing at
+     least twice a week in fresh society--Bohemians, sportsmen, and the
+     like. Also, nothing should be allowed to degenerate into a habit,
+     especially churchgoing--"
+
+Andrew read no further. Half an hour later he was driving for King's
+Cross as fast as a cab could take him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+It was characteristic of Andrew's serviceable and soundly unimaginative
+intellect that it should decline to grasp such a phenomenon as a father
+who was rapidly approaching his own age. It accepted the fact, since the
+evidence was now becoming overwhelming, but it firmly refused to go an
+inch beyond this concession. If one were seriously to regard his conduct
+as the natural result of youth and high spirits, there would be in a
+kind of way an excuse for it; and once you started that line of
+reasoning, where were you? You would be pardoning beggars because they
+were hungry, and bankrupts because they had no money, and all kinds of
+things. Andrew's conceptions of justice were not to be tampered with
+like that. It therefore followed (since he was extremely logical) that
+his parent must be looked upon simply as an erring and impenitent man.
+His age did not matter. That was his business. His son's was to see
+that, whether Mr. Heriot Walkingshaw professed to be eighty or eighteen,
+he conducted himself in a manner befitting the head of so respectable a
+family and firm.
+
+The only defect in this pre-eminently honest way of regarding the matter
+was that it handicapped the junior partner when it came to forecasting
+his parent's probable movements. If you persist in basing your
+calculations on the assumption that a bird _ought_ to be too old to fly,
+when it actually isn't, you will probably be wrong in expecting to find
+it always in your garden.
+
+Andrew let himself into the house about the hour of 8:30 a. m., and
+almost fell into the arms of the agitated widow.
+
+"Have you found him? Where is he? What has happened?" she implored him.
+
+It was another of Andrew's wholesome peculiarities that, having once
+distrusted a person, his suspicions could hardly be allayed, even by
+evidence that would have satisfied a hypochondriacal ex-detective. This
+safeguard against deception effectually preserved him from the dangerous
+extremes both of indigence and greatness. He looked upon his second
+cousin with a shocked and doubtful eye. She had come very close. Did she
+expect _him_ to toy with her?
+
+"Have I found who?" he inquired coldly.
+
+"Heriot!"
+
+"If you mean my father, I did not find him."
+
+He looked at her sarcastically, and added, "He didn't mention that
+himself, of course?"
+
+"I haven't seen him!" she almost shouted.
+
+He looked thoroughly startled now.
+
+"Hasn't he been here?"
+
+"He was only in the house for an hour. That was the day before
+yesterday. He didn't let me know he was here--he didn't let his sister
+know--nobody knew but Jean!"
+
+"Where was he staying?"
+
+"At an hotel."
+
+"An hotel!" exclaimed Andrew in horror. "Going to all that expense, with
+his house standing waiting for him? That beats everything I've heard
+yet! Is he there still?"
+
+"No, no, he's not!" she cried, almost sobbing. "He's gone back to
+London."
+
+"Gone back to London!"
+
+"And Jean's gone with him!"
+
+"Jean! Has he not got enough bills to pay at that infernal millionaire's
+hotel without hers?"
+
+"I don't know," wailed the lady. "I don't understand him. I thought he
+cared for me--and he didn't even let me know he was here!"
+
+In spite of his anger with his erring parent, he was sufficiently master
+of his emotions to feel a lively concern at all this speech suggested.
+
+"I must get my breakfast," he observed icily, and was starting for the
+dining-room.
+
+She collected herself instantly.
+
+"Andrew!" she said, "you've got to go after him."
+
+He stared at her, first in extreme surprise, then with an exceedingly
+sophisticated smile.
+
+"Thank you, I've got my business to attend to."
+
+"You can go to the office first. There's a train about two."
+
+"I'll not be on it," he replied.
+
+"Some one's _got_ to go and fetch him back."
+
+"It won't be me."
+
+She looked at him for a moment with an expression which did not interest
+him. He neither professed to understand women nor to think it worth
+while trying.
+
+"Very well," she answered.
+
+They went in to breakfast, but throughout the meal she never referred to
+Heriot again. Andrew flattered himself he had choked her off _that_
+subject.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+While Andrew was still patiently waiting in London, a south-bound
+express swung down the long slope from Shap; past Oxenholme, past
+Milnthorpe, past Carnforth, out into the green levels of Lancashire. In
+one corner of a first-class carriage sat Jean Walkingshaw, her eyes
+smiling approval at that very paper which was to disturb her brother's
+serenity a few hours later. Her father sat opposite watching her.
+
+"Well, what do you think of it?" he inquired.
+
+"I think it's most amusing and--and--"
+
+"Spirited?"
+
+"Oh, very spirited!" she laughed. "In fact, I think it's a splendid
+speech."
+
+He seemed gratified.
+
+"Some fellows didn't seem to care for it," he observed.
+
+"They must have been very stupid, then!"
+
+"Old buffers generally are," he replied. "Some of the young chaps
+thought it first-rate, even though they were a little startled for the
+moment. Though why people should feel startled by anything so
+self-evident as my remarks beats me. Be hanged to them for silly idiots!
+Eh, Jean?"
+
+His momentary expression of chagrin made way for a merry smile, which
+set his daughter smiling gaily back.
+
+"If they disagree with you, father, they must be!" she laughed.
+
+They sat silent for a few minutes, Jean watching the green fields and
+trees and gates and walls rush past to join the jagged fells behind
+them, her father watching her.
+
+"It's awfully good of you taking me back with you," she said presently.
+
+"If it's a treat for you, you deserve it," he answered affectionately;
+"and if it's not--well, anyhow, it's pleasant for me having your
+company."
+
+"It is a treat for me, though I don't quite see what I've done to
+deserve it."
+
+"You have stood by your father, my dear; and one good turn deserves
+another. I'd have been most infernally sick if I'd forgotten that
+dinner. It gave me the very chance of saying a word or two in season
+I'd been longing for. I only hope it will do the old fogies good."
+
+He took up the paper and glanced again at the report.
+
+"'Remarkable speech,' they call it," he continued complacently. "Well,
+they are not very far wrong. It _was_ a remarkable speech. Eh, Jean?"
+
+The good gentleman seemed unable to obtain his daughter's approval often
+enough. The fact was he had been a trifle disappointed with the attitude
+of some of his old friends last night. There was no doubt about it, he
+must go to the young folks for the meed of sympathy he deserved.
+
+Jean again looked out of the window, but she ceased to pay much
+attention to the backward-drifting landscape. Her heart was too full of
+hopes and questionings and restless wonder. In a little she turned to
+her father again and said, with an eye so candid and a smile so kind
+that many members even of her own sex would never have suspected a hint
+of ulterior design--
+
+"Do you know, you are the very best of fathers!"
+
+He replied in the same spirit of affection, and she continued--
+
+"I can't tell you how much I am looking forward to being in London
+again! You couldn't have done anything I'd have liked better."
+
+"Yes," he confessed, "London is an amusing place."
+
+"And one always meets so many people one knows there. That is one of its
+attractions."
+
+He agreed that it was.
+
+"I wonder who I'll meet this time?"
+
+She spoke with an air of the most innocent speculation, but the nature
+of her parent's smile changed subtly.
+
+"Goodness knows who one will meet in London," he replied. "Not Andrew,
+we'll hope, eh? I wonder where he is now."
+
+At this change of subject her breast gave a quick little heave that
+might have marked a stifled sigh, but she dutifully joined in what she
+could not but think an unnecessarily prolonged series of speculations
+regarding the movements of a quite uninteresting young man.
+
+But her eyes were very bright indeed and her face distinct with
+suppressed excitement as they drove from Euston Station into the life of
+the streets. All the while she kept looking out of the cab window, as
+though amid the passing myriads she might happen already to recognize
+one of those acquaintances she hoped to meet. At last she was in
+London! And London in early spring; London with the smuts washed off by
+torrential showers and then flooded with glorious sunshine; London with
+the young leaves like a thin veil of green on the limes and elms, and
+the tassels hanging from the poplars, and the sycamores and horse
+chestnuts already casting grateful shade; London with the mowing
+machines whirling in the parks and the watering-carts swishing down the
+streets--is a fairy city for a young girl with a large hotel to live in,
+a generous father, and a lover somewhere hidden in those mysterious
+miles of crowds and houses. Jean half wished she could feel a little
+less impatient, so that she might relish every passing moment to its
+dregs.
+
+Her father, Frank, and she dined sumptuously and went to the most
+entertaining play afterwards--a stimulating medley of waltz refrains and
+gorgeous clothes and a funny man and fifty pretty girls. She did not
+pose as a dramatic critic, and thought it splendid. Then they had supper
+at the Savoy, and--so to bed.
+
+But though she had gone to her room, Jean lingered for long before her
+open window, looking wistfully over the humming, lamp-lit town. _His_
+name had not been mentioned.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+Lucas painted, but not so fiercely as before; and again from the
+deck-chair Hillary watched him. He rented the studio next door, and
+having a comfortable private income of L80 a year, generally spent his
+afternoons encouraging his friend. Occasionally, however, he considered
+it advisable to supply chastening reflections.
+
+"I don't like it," he observed.
+
+"Don't like what?"
+
+"If he really meant to buy those pictures, I can't help thinking you
+would have heard from him again."
+
+The artist turned abruptly.
+
+"It was only three days ago. I don't expect to hear yet."
+
+"Dear old Lucas, I don't want to discourage you, but I call it fishy.
+Supposing he has met some one since who really knew something about
+pictures?"
+
+His friend resumed work in silence.
+
+"There is also another possibility," continued Hillary in his gentle
+voice. "He struck me as suspiciously extravagant--supposing he has
+gone bankrupt? I noticed, too, that his complexion was somewhat
+rubicund--supposing he has had an apoplectic fit? In that case, would
+his executors be bound by his verbal promise? Honestly, Lucas, I don't
+think so."
+
+There came a sharp rap on the door.
+
+"It will relax the strain on your intellect if you go and see who that
+is," suggested the painter.
+
+"A telegram," said Hillary, strolling back from the door.
+
+"Good heavens!" cried Lucas. "Read that."
+
+Hillary read--
+
+     "Come immediately. Unfortunate complication here. Require you to
+     explain fully.--HERIOT WALKINGSHAW."
+
+He looked considerably sobered.
+
+"Of course I didn't really mean what I was saying--"
+
+Lucas interrupted him brusquely.
+
+"I'm off. Look after things here. What the devil--"
+
+He strode down the lane, hailed a cab, and drove off to an
+accompaniment of the most anxious speculations.
+
+"This way, sir," said the attendant at the Hotel Gigantique.
+
+Lucas followed him, still racking his brains for some explanation not
+too disastrous to his hopes. The man opened the door of a sitting-room
+and closed it quietly behind him. In the room there was only one person,
+a girl with the sunniest hair and the straightest little nose and the
+most delightfully astonished face imaginable.
+
+"Jean!" he cried.
+
+He took a quick step towards her and then remembered the gravity of the
+summons.
+
+"What's the matter?" he demanded.
+
+"Then it was you!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Me?"
+
+"Father only told me that some one--a man--"
+
+He held out the telegram abruptly.
+
+"What do you make of that?"
+
+She read it, and then read it again, and her bewilderment seemed to
+change into another emotion.
+
+"What did your father tell you to do?" asked Lucas.
+
+She gave him the queerest look.
+
+"Get rid of the man if I could," she said.
+
+He ran his fingers through his mop of brown hair.
+
+"But I don't understand--what's the 'complication'?"
+
+She began to smile shyly--
+
+"Lucas, don't you think--don't you see--there's nothing else. _I_ must
+be the complication here."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Ahem!" coughed Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+The lovers endeavored to look as though the artist had been merely
+posing his patron's daughter.
+
+"Well?" inquired that patron genially.
+
+Lucas had not altogether lost his ready audacity.
+
+"I came at once, sir," he replied, "and I have explained fully. The
+complication has been cleared up."
+
+Laughing gleefully, chattering away much more like the prospective best
+man than the future father-in-law, he led them (an arm thrown about
+each) towards the sofa, where they sat together, crowded but happy.
+
+"What would you put your income at now, Lucas?" he inquired
+mischievously.
+
+Lucas looked a little rueful.
+
+"The same fluctuating figures, I'm afraid," he confessed.
+
+"My dear fellow, don't worry," said Heriot kindly. "Money isn't
+everything in this world. Youth and love and pluck are the main things.
+Hang it, what if you do get into debt occasionally? You've got a
+pretty oofy father-in-law. Of course, my dear chap, I don't encourage
+extravagance; far from it"--he glanced complacently at the chaste
+upholstery of the Hotel Gigantique. "I believe in paying your way, and
+laying by for a rainy day, and all that kind of thing, just as much as
+ever I did--in theory, anyhow. But in practice I may just as well tell
+you at once, to ease your mind, that Jean will have three hundred a year
+to keep the pot boiling."
+
+He pooh-poohed their gratitude with the most genial air.
+
+"Don't mention it, my dear young people, don't mention it. It comes out
+of Andrew's share, so it's all right."
+
+"But I couldn't dream of robbing Andrew!" cried Jean warmly.
+
+"He spends his days in robbing our clients," chuckled the senior
+partner, "so you needn't worry about him. Besides, he doesn't know
+how to spend money even when he has got it." He lowered his voice
+confidentially. "Andrew hasn't a spark of the sportsman in him; he's all
+very well as a partner--one wants 'em tough; but as a son--good Lord!"
+
+And then the good gentleman tactfully retired to the billiard-room,
+leaving behind him the two happiest people in London.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+Naturally, Lucas stayed to dinner, and naturally also he and Jean were
+left in uninterrupted occupation of the private sitting-room, while her
+father and Frank smoked and talked together in a quiet corner of the
+hall. Mr. Walkingshaw was radiant with the reflection of the happiness
+he had brought about. He could do nothing but make little plans for
+introducing Lucas to his picture-buying acquaintances, select eligible
+districts of London for their residence, and jot down various articles
+of furniture or ornament that he could spare them from his own mansion.
+Frank seemed equally delighted, though his good spirits were
+occasionally interrupted by fits of reverie.
+
+"Somehow or other," said Mr. Walkingshaw, "I feel more and more like a
+friend of Jean and you, and less and less like your father. Odd thing,
+isn't it, Frank?"
+
+"A jolly fine thing," said Frank warmly. "By Jove, sir, I can't tell you
+how much I prefer it!"
+
+"Do you really? Well, then, I won't worry about the feeling any more."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw had not given the impression that he was worrying about
+that or any other feeling, but one was bound to take his word for it.
+
+"I enjoy the sensation far more myself," he went on. "It produces a kind
+of mutual confidence and that sort of thing. I hardly feel inclined to
+explain the cause of this improvement yet, Frank; but you may take my
+word that there is nothing in the least discreditable about it. In fact,
+when one comes to think of it, there's nothing so very extraordinary
+either. It's a perfectly sound scientific idea, perfectly sound; so you
+can make your mind at ease too, Frank."
+
+As a matter of fact, Frank's mind had already wandered far afield from
+these interesting but slightly obscure speculations.
+
+"Oh, that's all right, I assure you," he answered vaguely.
+
+"It's a grand thing to know that Jean's love affair has turned out so
+happily," his father continued. "I can't tell you what a satisfaction it
+is to me."
+
+"Yes, isn't it?" Frank murmured from the clouds.
+
+"I only wish I could feel as sure of Andrew falling on his feet."
+
+Frank's wits were wide awake now.
+
+"Andrew!" he exclaimed. "Good heavens, do you mean to say you don't
+think he has fallen on his feet?"
+
+His father shook his head dubiously.
+
+"But, my dear father, I thought you agreed with me--agreed with all of
+us, I mean--that Ellen's just the--well, the--er--the--er--the nicest
+girl in the world."
+
+"Oh, she's all that."
+
+"Then what on earth do you mean?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw leant confidentially over the arm of his easy-chair.
+
+"Between ourselves, Frank, I'm rather doubtful whether she thinks Andrew
+the nicest man in the world."
+
+"But--but--surely she--er--I mean, they are engaged."
+
+"Frank, my boy, not a word of this to a soul--not even to Jean or Lucas.
+I may be wrong, and I don't want to make mischief; but I have a strong
+suspicion there's another fellow."
+
+"What kind of fellow?"
+
+"A rival."
+
+"Good God!" cried Frank. "Who the devil is he?"
+
+"Hush, hush--not so violently, my dear fellow. It's pretty sickening, of
+course; but till you know who he is, you can't knock him down."
+
+"Well, then, tell me who he is."
+
+"That's just what I'd like to know myself. It's some one in Perthshire."
+
+"How do you know?" demanded Frank.
+
+He controlled his voice, but in his eyes burned a light that boded ill
+for his brother's rival when he caught him.
+
+"Well, you can judge for yourself how I know. Andrew noticed the change
+in Ellen's manner the first time he saw her after she'd been staying
+with us. The only fellow she met in Edinburgh was yourself, so it must
+be some one in Perthshire."
+
+The militant Highlander fell back in his chair with a gasp, and the
+light of battle died out of his eyes.
+
+"Don't you agree with me?" asked his father.
+
+"I--er--I don't know," he stammered.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw had grown none the less shrewd as his weight of years
+was lightened.
+
+"Eh?" he demanded quickly, "what do you know about it? Be perfectly
+frank with me."
+
+"But why should you think that--er--I--"
+
+"Tell me this--do you know of any one who's been paying attention to
+Ellen Berstoun?"
+
+Poor Frank's color grew deeper and deeper.
+
+"There--there was one fellow, I'm ashamed to say."
+
+"Ashamed? Why should you be ash--" Mr. Walkingshaw broke off suddenly
+and gazed at his son with very wide-open eyes. "Frank--it was yourself!"
+
+The treacherous brother hung his head. And then, in the depths of his
+penitence, he heard these extraordinary words--
+
+"My dear, dear chap, this is almost too good to be true!"
+
+"Too _good_!" gasped Frank.
+
+"What did you do--kiss her?"
+
+"No, no; not so bad as that!"
+
+"You let her know, though? There's no mistake about that, eh?"
+
+"I'm afraid I did."
+
+His father took his hand.
+
+"She is yours," said he.
+
+"_Mine?_ But, my dear father, she is Andrew's!"
+
+"She was; but he's such a perfect sumph, I'm thankful she's got quit
+of him."
+
+"What! Is it broken off?"
+
+"It will be."
+
+"An engagement?"
+
+"What's an engagement? Speaking as a lawyer of many years' standing, I
+may tell you candidly that engagements, and agreements, and bargains are
+simply devices for keeping rascals from swindling one another. If honest
+men agree, they don't need a stamped bit of paper; and if they disagree,
+where's the point in leashing them together, like a couple of growling
+dogs? And the case is a thousand times stronger when it comes to a man
+and a girl. I was only afraid I should lose a charming daughter-in-law,
+and now you've taken that weight off my mind. I can't tell you how happy
+I feel!"
+
+Frank's young face was grave and his candid eyes looked straight at his
+father.
+
+"Look here," he replied, "I'm going to do the straight thing by Andrew.
+I don't know that I've ever loved him as much as I ought, but that's all
+the more reason why I shouldn't chisel him now."
+
+"Oh, that's your military idea of discipline and all the rest of it; but
+let me tell you, falling in love is a different kind of thing from
+forming fours."
+
+For the first time the young soldier clearly disapproved of his father's
+rejuvenation.
+
+"Duty is duty," he persisted, "and I tell you honestly I'm not going to
+sneak in behind my brother's back."
+
+"Is Ellen to have nothing to say in the matter? Do you propose to marry
+her to the man she doesn't love, instead of the man she does, without so
+much as giving her the choice?"
+
+The soldier met this flank attack by a change of front.
+
+"But Andrew has the means to marry her, and I've not."
+
+"I'll give you the means," said his father.
+
+Frank began to realize that Duty was in a very tight corner.
+
+"But I haven't any grounds whatever for thinking that Ellen cares for
+me."
+
+"I have."
+
+"You'll have to convince _me_."
+
+"Is it not clearly your duty to settle that point first?"
+
+Frank hesitated.
+
+"Well--perhaps it is."
+
+The crafty strategist smiled.
+
+"We'll settle it!"
+
+"When?"
+
+"At once. Where's a time-table?"
+
+"But look here, my dear father, there's the question of honor to be
+settled after that."
+
+"After that--exactly; I'm with you all the way. But in the meanwhile,
+first get this into your head. An engagement is an affair of two hearts,
+not of two pockets or two heads. If the hearts are off, the bargain's
+off. That's the whole ethics of an engagement. And let me tell you I'm
+not without some experience."
+
+"Heriot!" exclaimed a familiar voice.
+
+The W.S. looked round with a start. There, through the middle of the
+hall, attired in a most becoming traveling coat of fur, advanced the
+sympathetic widow.
+
+"My dear Madge!" cried her betrothed.
+
+Almost in the same instant his off eye signaled to his son a hurried but
+expressive warning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+The hour was late, but in spite of Heriot's kindly suggestion that
+the rapture he anticipated from her conversation should be postponed
+till she had recovered from the fatigues of her journey, his fiancee
+unselfishly preferred to recompense him immediately for his prolonged
+deprivation of her society. He acceded at once to her wishes, with the
+most amiable air imaginable.
+
+"And now, my dear Madge," said he, when they were seated in a secluded
+corner of the lounge, "tell me all your news. In the first place, how's
+my own precious?"
+
+"I am very well, thank you," replied the lady, a little coolly.
+
+"Delighted to hear it!"
+
+"You could, of course, have discovered it sooner by simply writing to
+inquire," she pointed out, with the same air.
+
+"But I did, my dear girl, I did."
+
+"Once."
+
+"Only once, was it? Now, I could have sworn it was twice."
+
+"And did you think twice was often enough?"
+
+"Well, you see, Madge," he explained, "we got engaged in such a deuce
+of a hurry, and I had to rush off next morning, and so on. I didn't
+have time to ask you how often you wished me to write."
+
+"Didn't my last two unanswered letters give you any idea on the
+subject?"
+
+"Two letters, Madge? Now, do you know, I could have sworn it was only
+one."
+
+She looked at him steadily.
+
+"Heriot, what is the meaning of your conduct?"
+
+"To what points in it do you refer, my dear?"
+
+"I may tell you I have heard from Charlie Munro."
+
+It was remarkable how quickly Mr. Walkingshaw had developed. That
+reputation he still clung to when he saw her last was no longer a
+brake upon his downward career.
+
+"Poor old Charlie!" he laughed. "By Jove, Madge, I jolly well hoisted
+him with his own thingamajig!"
+
+She regarded him stonily.
+
+"And what of the business you went to see him about?"
+
+"Did I say I was going to see him on business?"
+
+"You did!"
+
+"Oh, no, no, my dear girl; you must have misunderstood me. Of course, it
+was natural enough; we were both rather carried away by our feelings
+that night, weren't we, Madge?"
+
+He took her hand and pressed it affectionately, but it made no response.
+
+"Why didn't you come to see me when you were in Edinburgh?" she
+inquired.
+
+"I ought to have," he answered, with an expression of the sincerest
+apology. "Yes, I suppose I ought to have."
+
+"You suppose! Didn't it occur to you at the time?"
+
+"Oh, yes, it occurred. In fact, my difficulty was to keep myself away
+from you."
+
+"May I ask why it was necessary to make the effort?"
+
+"Well, the fact is," he explained, "I had a little scheme for Jean which
+I wanted to keep a secret--"
+
+"And you couldn't trust me!" she interrupted.
+
+"A charming woman and a secret?" he smiled archly. "My dear girl, your
+rosy lips would have gone chatter, chatter, chatter all over the town!"
+
+She snatched her hand away with some degree of violence.
+
+"You talk like an idiot!" she replied.
+
+"My dear Madge! This is your own Heriot?"
+
+She took out a little handkerchief of lace and gently touched first one
+eye and then the other.
+
+"I don't believe you love me!"
+
+Heriot's kind heart was sincerely moved.
+
+"I adore you!"
+
+A faint smile at last appeared upon her face.
+
+"How can you possibly when you go on like this?"
+
+"Like what?"
+
+The smile died away and a quick frown took its place.
+
+"Heriot! Do you mean to say you think your behavior has looked like
+loving me?"
+
+"It's the heart that counts, Madge, not the behavior," he assured her.
+
+She sat up in her chair with an air of decision.
+
+"The behavior does count; so please don't talk as though you thought I
+was a fool. For your own sake, for the sake of your reputation and your
+family, you've got to come back with me to-morrow!"
+
+He seized her hand.
+
+"My dear Madge, that's just what I meant to do."
+
+He rose and bent over her with every symptom of affection.
+
+"And now you must really go to bed. You're looking tired; really you
+are. It quite distresses me."
+
+She still kept her seat.
+
+"You promise to come with me?"
+
+"I assure you I've got to come."
+
+"I must have your promise."
+
+He looked hurt.
+
+"Hang it, Madge, can't you trust me?"
+
+"No, I cannot. Give me your promise."
+
+His air of affection decidedly diminished, but he gave the pledge--
+
+"I promise to go north to-morrow."
+
+"I can really trust you?"
+
+He began to frown.
+
+"Implicitly."
+
+She rose at last, and they went together towards the lift.
+
+"When do you breakfast?" she asked.
+
+He answered somewhat stiffly--
+
+"There is no necessity of starting before two o'clock. Breakfast when
+you like."
+
+"We shall say ten o'clock, then."
+
+"That is fairly late, isn't it?"
+
+"You forget that I have had a tiring day, and perhaps you hardly realize
+whose conduct has tired me. Good-night."
+
+"Good-night," he replied in an unimpassioned voice.
+
+As the widow ascended she told herself that she had adopted entirely the
+right attitude. She might relent to-morrow, but till then it was well he
+should be deprived of the sunshine of her smiles.
+
+Next morning at the hour of 10:15 she stepped out of the lift to find
+Jean waiting in the hall. She greeted Mrs. Dunbar with a markedly
+composed air.
+
+"I hope you won't mind breakfasting alone?" she said.
+
+It was evident that the widow did mind.
+
+"Do you mean to say your father has actually breakfasted without me?"
+
+"Unfortunately, he had to."
+
+"Had to!"
+
+"He and Frank found they must catch the ten o'clock train."
+
+Mrs. Dunbar gasped.
+
+"He--has gone?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But he promised to go with me!"
+
+"I understood him to say," said Jean quietly, "that he had merely
+promised to go north."
+
+"Oh, indeed! Then he has run away?"
+
+"From whom?" asked Jean demurely.
+
+The widow bit her lip.
+
+"I consider his conduct simply disgraceful--"
+
+Jean interrupted her quickly--
+
+"I had rather not discuss my father's conduct. Don't let me keep you
+from breakfast."
+
+Mrs. Dunbar remained standing in silence, a magnificent statue of
+displeasure. In a moment she inquired--
+
+"And why are you waiting here?"
+
+"Father thought you might like my company on the journey."
+
+"How very thoughtful of him! Then you go at two?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The widow gazed at her intently.
+
+"I can hardly believe this of Heriot. Is all this his own idea?"
+
+Jean flushed slightly, but answered as demurely as ever--
+
+"It is his wish."
+
+"Ah, I see!" exclaimed Mrs. Dunbar bitterly, "I thought there was a
+woman's hand in this affair."
+
+"Do you mean another woman's hand?"
+
+The injured lady began uneasily to realize that there was a fresh
+factor in the situation. But who would have dreamt of little Jean
+Walkingshaw being dangerous? As Madge traveled north that afternoon,
+uncompromisingly secluded behind a lady's journal, she could not get
+out of her head the uncomfortable fancy that her trim, fair-haired
+escort sat like a protecting deity (heathen and sinister) between
+Heriot and all who desired, even with the most loving purpose, to
+chasten his faults and moderate the exuberance of his too virile
+spirit.
+
+Jean herself was warmly conscious that some such duty was surely laid
+upon her. With what less reward could she repay all he had done for her?
+It will be discovered, however, from the succeeding instalment of facts,
+that though the guardian angel of Heriot Walkingshaw might go the pace
+with him thus far, it would probably have been beyond the power even of
+a genuinely celestial spirit to keep at his shoulder when he spurted.
+
+
+
+
+PART IV
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Archibald Berstoun of that ilk ("of y' ilk" was the form that most
+delicately tickled his palate) still dwelt in the fortalice built by
+his ancestors at a time when to the average Scot the national tartan
+suggested but an alien barbarian who stole his cattle; and the national
+bagpipe, the national heather, and the national whisky were merely the
+noise the brute made, the cover that preserved him from the gallows, and
+the stuff that gave you your one chance of catching him asleep.
+
+(A few reflections on the whirligig of time were here inserted, but have
+since been omitted, as they were found to occur in a modified form
+elsewhere.)
+
+The castle stood in the lowland part of Perthshire, and was erected by
+the second of that ilk as a tribute to the dexterity with which his
+highland neighbors had removed the effects and cut the throat of the
+first. It was a sober and simple building, steep-roofed and battlemented
+at the top, turreted at the angles, and pierced with a few narrow
+windows so irregularly scattered about its gray harled walls as
+to suggest that no two rooms could possibly be on the same level.
+Naturally, the architectural genius who illumines the quiet annals of
+every landed family had knocked out a number of French windows into the
+lawn and constructed the first story of a Chinese pagoda, in which he
+proposed to store Etruscan curios with an aviary above; but his
+descendants had fortunately lacked the funds to complete these
+improvements. In fact, the stump of the pagoda was now so entirely
+overgrown with ivy that it had become the traditional fortress of
+Agricola.
+
+This ancient habitation of a hard-fighting race was framed on two sides
+by a garden that looked as old as the walls which towered above it, and
+was well-nigh as simple and sober. Dark clipped yews, and smooth green
+grass, and graceful old-world flowers were its chief and sufficient
+ingredients. The genius who designed the pagoda had not yet turned his
+attention to the garden when Providence checked his career.
+
+A wood of black Scotch firs stretched for a long way beyond this
+pleasant garden, and struck a stern northern note befitting the gnarled
+battlements; while, nearer the house, gray beech stems towered out of
+the brown dead leaves below up to the brown live buds a hundred feet
+nearer the clouds.
+
+On the remaining two sides of the castle you were not supposed to bestow
+attention, since after the old custom the home farm approached more
+closely than is fashionable nowadays; though to the curious they were
+the sides best worth attention, owing to the cultured pagoda-builder
+having deemed it beneath his dignity to molest them.
+
+One afternoon in early spring Ellen Berstoun walked slowly down a
+sheltered garden path. She had been singularly moody of late--so
+distressed, indeed, and so little like a lucky girl whose wedding might
+be fixed for any day she chose to name, that her five unmarried sisters
+held many private debates on the causes of her conduct. The three next
+to her in years expressed grave apprehensions lest the very fairly
+creditable marriage arranged for her should after all fall through.
+Ellen was not treating Andrew well, they complained; while on the other
+hand, the two youngest, being as yet irresponsibly romantic, declared
+vigorously that they had sooner dear Ellen remained single to the end of
+her days than introduced such a long-lipped, fat-cheeked brother-in-law
+into the family.
+
+It was a part of poor Ellen's burden that she was acutely conscious of
+the duty which her parents and all her aunts assured her she owed these
+sisters. But, on the other hand, to share the remainder of her existence
+with Andrew Walkingshaw--There rose vividly a picture of that most
+respectable of partners, and the emotion attendant on this vision drew
+from her a sigh that ought to have convinced the most skeptical she was
+very hard hit indeed.
+
+It was at this moment that she spied a lad approaching from the house.
+
+"Well, Jimmy?" she inquired.
+
+With an appearance of some caution, he handed her a note.
+
+"It was to be gi'en to yoursel' privately, miss," he said mysteriously,
+and turned to go.
+
+"Is there no answer?" she asked.
+
+"He said I wasna to bide for an answer."
+
+He hurried off as though his directions had been peremptory, and Ellen
+opened the letter. It was written upon the notepaper of a local inn, and
+if she was surprised to discover the writer, she was still more
+astonished by the contents.
+
+     "MY DEAR ELLEN," it ran, "I should take it as a very great favor
+     indeed if you would come immediately on receiving this and meet me
+     at the farther end of the wood below your garden. Follow the path,
+     and you will find me waiting for you. The matter is of such
+     importance that I make no apologies for suggesting this romantic
+     proceeding!--With love, yours affectionately,
+
+                              "J. HERIOT WALKINGSHAW.
+
+     "P.S.--Don't say a word to one of your family. Secrecy is
+     absolutely essential."
+
+Ellen stood lost in perplexity. Rumors had reached her of Mr.
+Walkingshaw's recent eccentricity. The request was entirely out of
+keeping with all her previous acquaintance with him; that point of
+exclamation after "romantic proceeding" struck her as uncomfortably
+dissimilar to his usual methods of composition. Ought she not to consult
+one of her parents, or at least a sister? And yet the postscript was too
+explicit to be neglected.
+
+For a few minutes she hesitated. Then she made up her mind; her warm
+heart could not bear to disappoint anybody; and besides, Mr. Heriot
+Walkingshaw, however odd his conduct might have been lately was such a
+pompously respectable--indeed venerable--old gentleman that a maiden
+might surely trust herself with him alone, even in a grove of trees. And
+so, in a furtive and backward-glancing manner, she stole into the wood.
+It was an unusual way of approaching one's father's man of business and
+one's finance's parent, but Ellen consoled herself by the reflection
+that an experienced Writer to the Signet should best know how these
+things were done.
+
+She hurried down a narrow, winding glade, lined by countless slender
+columns supporting far overhead a roof of millions of dark green needles
+swaying and murmuring in the breeze. Suddenly sunshine and green fields
+filled the opening of the glade, and as suddenly a tall gentleman
+stepped from behind a tree and politely raised a fashionable felt hat.
+In all essential features he was the image of Mr. Heriot Walkingshaw,
+only that he was so very much younger.
+
+"Well, my dear Ellen!" he exclaimed heartily.
+
+She stared at him, too amazed for speech.
+
+"Am I really so changed already?" he inquired with a smile. "That shows
+the beneficial effect of seeing you."
+
+Even though his manner had altered as much as his appearance, she found
+the change so agreeable that she overlooked its strangeness. She smiled
+back at him.
+
+"I am glad to see you looking so well," she said.
+
+He beamed upon her in what he sincerely meant for a paternal manner.
+
+"You, my dear child, look ripping! My hat, you are pretty! Ellen dear,
+my only wish is to make you as happy as you are bonny."
+
+She looked at him searchingly, and her voice had a note of guarded
+alarm.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+His air became sympathy itself.
+
+"My dear girl, I have been greatly distressed to hear that all has not
+been going smoothly with you and Andrew."
+
+She gave him a quick glance and then looked away.
+
+"Indeed!" she answered a little coldly. "Who told you that?"
+
+"I can read it in my son's altered health."
+
+She looked at him in surprise, but without anxiety.
+
+"I didn't know there was anything the matter with him."
+
+"He had to hasten up to London for a change of air."
+
+"I hope it did him good," she said indifferently.
+
+"My dear girl, have you no wish to hurry to his bedside?"
+
+"I'm afraid I shouldn't be any good if I did."
+
+"And you wouldn't find him in bed, either," smiled Mr. Walkingshaw, with
+a change of manner. "No, no, Ellen; you needn't pretend you're in love
+with Andrew if that's all the concern you feel. And I may tell you at
+once that he's as tough as ever, and as great a fool. The fellow is
+totally unworthy of you, so don't you worry your head about him any
+longer."
+
+He bent over her confidentially.
+
+"Supposing some one were to cut him out, eh?"
+
+"Some one--" she stammered. "Who?"
+
+"Guess!" he smiled.
+
+She did guess; and it was a shocking surmise.
+
+"I--I have no idea," she fibbed.
+
+"Oh, come now, hang it, look me in the eye and repeat that!"
+
+For an instant, she looked into that roguish eye, and her worst
+suspicions were confirmed.
+
+"Mr. Walkingshaw," she answered, with trembling candor, "I feel very
+much honored, but really I must ask you not to--not to say anything
+more. Our ages--oh, everything--I couldn't! I had better go back now."
+
+The philanthropic father gasped.
+
+"Ellen! stop! My dear child, I don't mean myself! Good heavens, I am
+far too old for a young girl like you!"
+
+Yet it was at that moment that he suddenly realized he wasn't.
+
+"Then--then what--" she began, and stopped, overwhelmed with confusion.
+
+Hurriedly he endeavored to put things once more upon a paternal footing.
+
+"My fault, my dear Ellen, my fault entirely. Naturally you
+thought--er--yes, yes, it was quite natural. I--I put it badly. I didn't
+think what I was saying. The fact is, I've been"--a brilliant
+inspiration suddenly illumined the chaos of his mind--"I've been so
+troubled about poor Frank!"
+
+Her expression altogether changed.
+
+"What's the matter?" she exclaimed.
+
+His mind calmed down. Composing his countenance, he shook his head
+sadly.
+
+"I don't think he'll get over it."
+
+She laid her hand upon his arm with a quick, involuntary gesture.
+
+"But what has happened? Tell me!"
+
+The wisdom of age and the shrewdness of youth twinkled together in Mr.
+Walkingshaw's eye, but he managed to retain a decorously solemn air.
+
+"You are really concerned this time?"
+
+"Of course! I--I mean, naturally."
+
+He drew her hand through his arm and led her along the fringe of the
+pine woods.
+
+"Come and see," he said gently. "Poor boy he's had a bad fall."
+
+"What! Is he here--with you?"
+
+"Yes--yes," he answered, with an absent and melancholy air.
+
+He led her a few paces into the trees, and there, seated on a fallen
+trunk, they saw the victim of fate smoking a cigarette with a meditative
+air. He sprang to his feet with a light in his eye that might have been
+the result of some acute disaster, but scarcely looked like it.
+
+"Frank, my boy," said his father, "I have just been explaining to Ellen
+that you have fallen"--he turned to the girl with a merry air--"in
+love!" he chuckled, and the next moment they were listening to his
+flying footsteps and looking at one another.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+High overhead the pines murmured gently, and Mr. Walkingshaw, strolling
+through the quiet colonnades below in solitude and shade, heard the
+strangest messages whispered down by those riotous tree-tops. He was no
+longer even middle-aged! Or at least his heart certainly was not. It
+seemed to keep a decade or so younger than his body, and Heaven knew
+that was growing younger fast enough! At this rate how much longer could
+he play the beneficent parent? Good Lord, he had jolly nearly fallen
+head over ears in love with sweet Ellen Berstoun in the course of five
+minutes' conversation! She wasn't a day too old for Heriot W. That's to
+say, he could do with a lassie of that age fine, and, by Gad, he
+shouldn't wonder but Ellen mightn't have rather cottoned to him if her
+heart had been free. She looked deuced coy when she thought he was
+proposing. Yes, a girl like Ellen was the ticket for him. But in that
+case, what about Madge?
+
+For several minutes Mr. Walkingshaw stood very solemnly studying the
+bark on an entirely ordinary pine, concluding his scrutiny by hitting it
+a sharp smack with his walking-stick and turning away from the sight of
+it with apparent distaste. However, a minute or two later he seemed to
+find one he liked better, for he placed his back against it, removed his
+hat, and gazed upwards at the softly murmuring branches. Once more their
+whispers made him smile. Sufficient for the day were the difficulties
+thereof! That was the way to look at it. Meanwhile, the spring was
+young, and the little flowers in the wood were young, and the blue sky
+that showed in peeps through the swinging tree-tops looked as young as
+any of them, and certainly it was a young and lusty breeze that swayed
+them. By Jingo, what excellent company they all were for him!
+
+And then he heard another murmuring sound, coming this time from behind
+him. He held his breath and caught the words--
+
+"Ellen! I love you--I love you!"
+
+He peeped round the tree, and for an instant saw them. A most gratifying
+tribute to his diplomacy--but devilish disturbing to a young fellow
+without a girl! Hurriedly he snapped a twig; he snapped another; he
+broke a branch; he whistled, he coughed, he shouted. And then they
+looked up, vaguely surprised to find there was another person in the
+world.
+
+"Well, Frank," said his father, as they walked back together towards
+their inn, "are you not feeling happy now, my boy, eh?"
+
+"Happy!" exclaimed Frank. "I'm stupefied with happiness!"
+
+As Heriot Walkingshaw strode between the spring breeze and the murmuring
+pines, his son's arm through his, listening to his gratitude and Ellen's
+praises, he too felt happier than ever before in his life. What a lot of
+pleasure he had learned how to give. And the way to give it was so
+simple once you found it out. Apparently you had merely to get in
+sympathy with people, and then do the things which naturally, under
+those circumstances, you would both like to be done. There was really
+nothing in it at all; still, it was jolly well worth doing.
+
+Only as they neared the inn did a qualm begin to trouble Frank.
+
+"It's deuced rough luck on Andrew, losing that girl," he said suddenly.
+"Hang it, it would kill _me_!"
+
+"It's only losing his money that'll ever hurt Andrew," replied his
+father cheerfully. "Don't you worry about what he'll say."
+
+Unfortunately, Mr. Walkingshaw forgot that the provision for this happy
+marriage was, in fact, coming indirectly from Andrew's pocket. Even the
+youngest of us cannot foresee everything, or Heriot would not have been
+humming "Gin a laddie kiss a lassie," quite so lightheartedly.
+
+"I must say I funk having it out with him," remarked Frank.
+
+"Just you leave it all to me. I'm a match for Andrew any day."
+
+It would have been well if Mr. Walkingshaw had "touched wood" as he made
+this vaunt; but at that moment his confidence was so serene that he felt
+master of any emergency conceivable by man.
+
+"Andrew's not the mate for Ellen," he said presently. "The young are for
+each other, Frank; that's the law of nature."
+
+He smiled to himself.
+
+"I learnt that this afternoon. By Jove, what a pretty girl Ellen is!"
+
+And then again his young heart remembered the sympathetic widow, and he
+stopped smiling.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+The backbone of our country is that band of civic heroes who, when
+turmoil rages and disaster threatens, are the last men to desert the
+desk. In this glorious company Andrew Walkingshaw was numbered. His
+father might tear up and down the country like a disreputable whirlwind,
+his widowed relative fume and plot, his sister disgrace the family by an
+unsuitable engagement, his betrothed leave his affectionate letters
+unanswered, his own soul writhe in decorous anguish at these calamities,
+but Casabianca himself was not more faithful to his post than he. It is
+true, indeed, that he had once tried the alternative policy and chased
+that cyclone, but he had taken to heart the lesson, and thenceforth
+closed his ears to disquieting rumors, his eyes to distressing symptoms,
+and went about his work, if possible, more conscientiously than ever.
+That was the proper way to get through business--conscientiously. He was
+sickened with the people (clients of some eminence, but evidently with a
+screw loose) who kept deferring their more important concerns till the
+senior partner returned with his infernal headlong methods. Let them
+wait if they liked! Let them take their business elsewhere if they were
+such fools! Deliberately and calmly _he_ had washed his hands of his
+senior partner. That was the end of him so far as he was concerned, said
+Andrew to himself. But alas! you may wash your hands of a tornado, but
+supposing it retorts by blowing down your house?
+
+It was about nine in the evening, and he sat by himself, severely
+scrutinizing the pleadings drawn up by his clerk for a forthcoming case,
+connected with so large a sum of money that it was a pleasure merely to
+read the imposing figures. The ladies were upstairs in the drawing-room.
+So long as Mrs. Dunbar was among them, he was not likely to show his
+face _there_.
+
+The door opened, and he turned, frowning at the interruption, and then
+sprang up with a troubled eye. It was his father certainly; but what a
+remarkable change since he had seen him last! For the first time Andrew
+realized the full enormity of his conduct in growing younger. His very
+appearance had become a crying scandal.
+
+"Sweating away at your old papers?" inquired Heriot pleasantly.
+
+Andrew stiffly resumed his seat.
+
+"Yes, I am busy," he replied, and took up the pleadings again.
+
+But his father ignored the hint. Straddling comfortably before the fire,
+he remarked--
+
+"Frank and I have been up to Perthshire."
+
+Andrew looked up quickly, but merely answered--
+
+"Oh, indeed?"
+
+"We've been seeing Ellen."
+
+"What about?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw threw himself into a chair.
+
+"My boy," said he, with the air of friendly commiseration which he felt
+that the occasion undoubtedly demanded, "I find I was right about your
+rival."
+
+Andrew remained calm, though not quite so calm as before.
+
+"Do you mean there's some one else after her?"
+
+"He's got her."
+
+The calm departed.
+
+"Got! What the deuce d'ye mean?"
+
+"She has chosen another, Andrew."
+
+"Chosen! But she's no choice left her. She's engaged to me."
+
+"She was engaged to you. She's now engaged to him."
+
+"To _him_? Who the dev--er--what are you driving at? Who's the man?"
+
+"Frank."
+
+"Frank!"
+
+Andrew stared at his father incredulously.
+
+"I don't believe a word of it."
+
+"Well, you may ask Frank if you like; but I assure you you can take my
+word for it."
+
+It was characteristic of Andrew's robust mind that, instead of wasting
+time in noisy vaporings and sentimental sorrow, it seized at once the
+weak point in the case.
+
+"But he can't afford to marry."
+
+"Oh, I'll see to that."
+
+"_You'll_ see!" shouted Andrew. "Do you mean to say _you've_ had a
+finger in the pie?"
+
+"Four fingers and a thumb," smiled his parent.
+
+Once more Andrew, without waste of words in expostulation or commentary,
+summarized the situation in a sentence--
+
+"This is fair damnable!"
+
+"Come, come, my dear fellow," said Mr. Walkingshaw soothingly. "I owe
+you an explanation, of course, but when you've heard it, I know you'll
+agree I've done the right thing."
+
+"An explanation!" exclaimed Andrew sardonically. "Go on, let's hear it."
+
+"I can give you the gist of it in a sentence: she loves Frank, and she
+doesn't love you. Now, in that case, which of you ought she to marry?"
+
+"That's nothing to do with it--"
+
+"What! love's nothing to do with marriage?"
+
+"When a woman's once engaged, she's got to implement her promise."
+
+"Whether it makes her happy or miserable?"
+
+"Who was miserable, I'd like to know?"
+
+"Ellen."
+
+"It's the first I've heard of it."
+
+"Do you mean to say you couldn't see it for yourself?"
+
+"No, I could not; and even if she was, there's not the shadow of an
+excuse for your conduct. You're just making a mess of everything you
+meddle with. Getting me jilted like this! What do you suppose people
+will say? What'll they be thinking of me? Oh, good Lord!"
+
+The unhappy young man brooded somberly. Mr. Walkingshaw lit a cigar,
+and then settled himself down to remove by gentle argument the cloud
+that temporarily obscured his son's serenity.
+
+"Just look at the thing for a moment in a quiet and reasonable light,
+Andrew. Happiness, as you are well aware, is the chief aim of humanity.
+Damn it, our religion teaches us that--or practically that. A kind of
+warm and amiable gleefulness--that's the ideal. Now, how can a young
+girl like Ellen be happy or gleeful married to a sober old codger like
+you, eh? Man, the thing's clean impossible. She's no more suited to you
+than a lace cover to a coal-scuttle. Well, then what's the obvious thing
+to do? Hand her over to a brisk young fellow who can do her justice, of
+course. Besides, just think of your own brother pining away in the--what
+do they call it?--torrid zone, all for love of a girl who's pining away
+for love of him. The thing's totally illogical. A society of hedgehogs
+would have more sense than to allow an arrangement like that. You see my
+point now, don't you?"
+
+"I've heard you say with your own lips," retorted Andrew, "that all a
+girl required was a comfortable home and a husband who knew his own
+mind."
+
+"But you must remember," explained his father, "I was an old fool then."
+
+Andrew sprang to his feet with a wry and bitter face.
+
+"You certainly haven't the qualities of age now. I never heard such
+daft-like rubbish in my life. For Heaven's sake, just try to use any
+common sense you've got left. Frank will never have enough money to keep
+her properly."
+
+"Ah, but naturally I mean to alter my arrangements."
+
+Gradually the full possibilities of the situation were revealing
+themselves to the well-regulated mind of the junior partner.
+
+"You mean to change your will?"
+
+"I do."
+
+Yet another horrid possibility showed its head.
+
+"And are you going to alter Jean's share too, so that this precious
+Vernon fellow may have something to squander?"
+
+"Something respectable to live on," corrected his parent. "You mustn't
+starve art, you know."
+
+Andrew stared at him in silence, and when he spoke, it was with the air
+of a much-wronged worm which has deliberately resolved to turn at last.
+
+"I'm not wanting any of your Ellen Berstouns. If she's played this trick
+on me, that's enough of her. But I tell you plainly I'm not going to let
+you rob me to keep a pack of worthless painters and people out of the
+gutter, without taking some steps. I warn you of that."
+
+"My dear Andrew," said his father reproachfully, "that's hardly the
+attitude of a professing Christian. Just think, now; is it? You'll
+easily find a decent, quiet woman with a bit of money and no objection
+to hearing every day for an hour or two how you've been worried by your
+clients and swindled by your father, and I do honestly believe you'll
+get as near happiness as you're capable of. That's common sense, now;
+isn't it?"
+
+The slamming of the door answered him.
+
+"What a sulky fellow he is!" said Heriot to himself.
+
+Yet so conscious was he of the rectitude of his intentions, and so
+confiding had his disposition grown, that it never crossed his mind to
+beware of an infuriated lawyer. Besides, when Andrew had slept over it,
+he would surely realize how unanswerable were his father's arguments.
+
+"We'll see the old stick-in-the-mud dancing at Frank's wedding!"
+thought he. "There's no vice in Andrew; only a bit of obstinacy.
+It's all bark and no bite with him."
+
+With these amiable reflections he speedily consoled himself for the
+discomfort of any little temporary friction. And then the door opened
+gently.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+"I heard you had come back again," said Mrs. Dunbar.
+
+She closed the door as gently as she had opened it. The action
+pathetically expressed the quiet sorrow of a much-wronged woman's
+heart.
+
+"Yes," said Heriot gallantly, "I'm back again to Scotland, home and
+beauty. Ha, ha! Now that was quite pretty, wasn't it?"
+
+But her black eyes declined to sparkle, as she glided silently to a
+chair. Out of the corner of his own eye her lover looked at her
+critically.
+
+"I'm delighted to see you again, Madge," he went on; but his words had a
+hollow ring, and his eye continued to express more doubt than passion.
+
+"Have you no apology to offer me?" she inquired, with the same ominous
+calm.
+
+"For what, my dear lady?"
+
+She started a little and glanced at him apprehensively. "My dear lady"
+hardly indicated love's divinest frenzy.
+
+"For treating me shamefully!"
+
+"This is strong language," he smiled indulgently. "Tell me now, I say,
+just tell me what I've done."
+
+Thus invited, the lady described his conduct in leaving her alone and
+unprotected in a London hotel, to the neglect of his affectionate
+assurances and the shame and confusion of herself, in language which did
+no more than justice to the theme.
+
+"But I left Jean to look after you," he protested.
+
+"When I want your daughter to look after me I shall ask you for her
+assistance," she replied tartly. "You broke your word to me, and you
+can't deny it."
+
+"I do deny it," he replied, with dignity. "I told you I should travel
+north--"
+
+"Oh!" she interrupted, with scathing contempt, "you were very
+straightforward and gentlemanly, I know!"
+
+He looked at her ever more critically. A recollection of Ellen and the
+pine-wood returned forcibly.
+
+"Put it as you will," he replied philosophically, and turned towards the
+fire.
+
+She watched him jealously.
+
+"But why did you run away?" she persisted. "Where have you been since?
+Heriot, I insist upon knowing that--I insist!"
+
+She rose and came towards him. He took her hand and pressed it gently.
+
+"I shall tell you all," he said, as he led her back to her chair and
+drew another towards it. When they were about three feet apart he sat
+down himself and bent confidentially towards her. Yet he did not attempt
+to bridge entirely the intervening space.
+
+"I have been up to Perthshire," he began, "assisting dear Ellen Berstoun
+to break off her engagement with Andrew."
+
+Mrs. Dunbar sat up with a much more alert expression.
+
+"I am glad to hear it," she said, with decision.
+
+"I discovered that Frank and she loved one another. I am very glad to
+say he is now engaged to her instead."
+
+She smiled at last.
+
+"Do tell me what Andrew said!"
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"I'm afraid he is somewhat unreasonably annoyed."
+
+She smiled more brightly still.
+
+"How very good for him! Really, Heriot, you have done a very sensible
+thing indeed."
+
+Heriot smiled back.
+
+"It seemed to me," said he, "that there was really too much disparity in
+years. The young should marry the young, Madge."
+
+"I agree with you entirely."
+
+It was his smile that now seemed to indicate an increasing satisfaction.
+
+"You agree also that under those circumstances it is no longer the duty
+of two people to marry, even if they have unfortunately become engaged?"
+
+"I think it would only lead to wretchedness if they did. Honestly, I
+don't feel in the least sorry for Andrew. In fact, I thoroughly agree
+that people ought to have their engagements broken off for them if they
+haven't the sense to see they are unsuitable for themselves."
+
+Heriot received this assurance with evident pleasure. His manner grew
+more confidential still.
+
+"Madge," he said, "I think it is time I made you a very serious
+confession."
+
+Her smile departed.
+
+"You may have noticed," he continued, "a certain bloom, so to speak,
+upon me, a sort of freshness, and so on. Madge, it is the bloom of
+youth."
+
+She grew uneasy.
+
+"Oh, really?"
+
+"It is a literal, physical fact. I am rapidly approaching thirty."
+
+She moved into the farthest corner of her chair, but made no other
+comment.
+
+"You will thus see that it is merely a question of time before there
+will be an even greater disparity of years between you and me than
+between Ellen and Andrew."
+
+Her expression changed entirely.
+
+"Heriot!" she exclaimed indignantly.
+
+"Yes, Madge, I grieve deeply to resign the hopes of happiness I had
+formed on a life spent in your society, but alas! I must. Your adult
+charms cannot be thrown away upon an unappreciative youth; it would be a
+tragedy."
+
+"You are many years older than I!"
+
+"I was a short time ago, but to-day we are roughly speaking,
+twins--though with this difference, that as I am looking forward to a
+strenuous youth, and you to a handsome old age, naturally I feel a
+chicken compared with you. But then think of the next year or two, when
+I shall perhaps be playing football, and you will find it no longer
+possible to keep your gray hairs so artistically brushed beneath your
+black tresses: think of that, Madge!"
+
+"Are you out of your mind?" she gasped.
+
+"On the contrary, I have never been clearer-headed in my life."
+
+"Then," she exclaimed wrathfully, "you are merely inventing a ridiculous
+fable to excuse your shuffling out of your engagement!"
+
+"My dear lady," he replied pacifically, "shall I jump over this chair to
+convince you?"
+
+"_Nothing_ would convince me."
+
+"Ah," he said, with a friendly smile, "I see that you want to have me
+whether I'm a suitable mate or not, whether my feelings have changed--"
+
+"I certainly do not!" she interrupted.
+
+"Then in that case shall we call it off?"
+
+He rose and picked up an evening paper.
+
+She tried the resource of tears. The spectacle of a handsome woman
+weeping had brought him temporarily to his senses once before. But this
+time, though his manner was as kind as any widow could desire, his words
+brought the unfortunate lady no more consolation than his conduct.
+
+"My dear Madge, just look at the thing sensibly. Surely you are old
+enough by this time to take a practical view of what after all is a very
+simple situation. You laid down the law yourself not five minutes ago,
+and laid it down very justly. If two people are unsuitably mated, the
+engagement should be broken off. Very well; just try to realize for a
+moment what it means to marry a man who is getting fuller and fuller of
+beans all the time--at your age, mark you. The fact is, we are just like
+two trains rushing in opposite directions. For a moment we may be side
+by side, and then--whit!--we have passed each other and are getting a
+couple of miles farther apart every minute."
+
+Even this graphic allegory failed to dry her tears.
+
+"You are deserting me--you are breaking my heart!" she wailed.
+
+"Hush, hush," he answered soothingly; "on the contrary, I am sparing
+you--sparing you no end of anxiety."
+
+She looked at him like a tragedy queen.
+
+"Have you no thought of how my reputation will suffer, Heriot?"
+
+"How can it suffer? Nobody knows we've been engaged."
+
+"Do you suppose they haven't guessed?"
+
+"Not from anything I've said or done, I can assure you."
+
+She sprang up indignantly.
+
+"Have you no sense of honor?"
+
+"Look here," he answered, with his most ingratiating manner, "I'll be a
+son to you, Madge--an affectionate, dutiful--"
+
+"You coward!" she cried.
+
+Heriot found himself alone in his library with his engagement
+satisfactorily ended.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+Andrew had retired to the dining-room. Once the day's eating was over,
+this apartment, with its vast space of dignified gloom, its black marble
+mantelpiece, and the cloth of indigo plushette which now covered the
+table, made the most congenial refuge conceivable. His thoughts were in
+exact harmony with everything there, from the Venetian blinds to the
+portrait of his great-grandmother. The only discordant element was the
+presence of a few errant bread-crumbs, and happily they were under the
+table.
+
+It was to this lair that he was tracked by Madge Dunbar. She never
+paused to ask if she disturbed him, or gave him any chance of protest,
+but advancing straight up to him, exclaimed--
+
+"Your father is off his head!"
+
+The junior partner eyed her warily, divided between suspicion and a glow
+of sympathy with her opinion.
+
+"What has he done now?" he inquired gloomily.
+
+"He has treated me exactly as he has treated you!"
+
+The sympathy deepened; the suspicion began to ooze away; but all he
+remarked was, "Oh?"
+
+He was indeed a magnificently cautious man.
+
+"What can we do?" she cried.
+
+Andrew scrutinized her carefully. She might be fibbing; she might be up
+to some of her tricks again; this might even be a move arranged with his
+father. One could not be too prudent.
+
+"What do you propose to do?" he asked.
+
+"Bring him to his senses if it's possible: if not--Oh, Andrew, his
+conduct is infamous! I don't care what we do to punish--I mean to
+restrain him."
+
+At last, after many days' abstinence, the junior partner smiled. It was
+not a very wide, nor in the least a merry smile; his cheeks bulged only
+slightly under its gentle pressure, and the satisfaction which smiles
+traditionally notify seemed savored with a squeeze or two of lemon. But
+it marked the beginning of a new coalition, an ominous disturbance of
+the balance of power.
+
+"That is exactly the point I have under consideration myself," he said.
+"The difficulty is, how is it to be managed?"
+
+She seated herself within twelve feet of him, and yet he did not shrink
+from her now with modest mistrust.
+
+"It seems to me perfectly obvious what we should do. Just offer him an
+alternative."
+
+"What alternative?" asked Andrew.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile, Mr. Walkingshaw was spending one of the happiest evenings he
+remembered. There was indeed some slight constraint in the drawing-room
+so long as his sister remained there, but when, after a series of sighs
+which punctuated some twenty minutes' pointed silence, she at last bade
+them a depressed good-night, the three happy lovers gave rein to their
+hearts. Heriot gave the loosest rein of all. It almost seemed as if a
+lover set at liberty was even happier than a lover just engaged. He had
+that air of animated relief noticeable in the escaped victims of a
+conscientious dentist. As for his children, they adored him little less
+than they adored two other people who were not there.
+
+Yet once or twice Jean fell thoughtful. At last she said--
+
+"I wonder whether we ought to go out to the Comyns' to-morrow after
+all?"
+
+"My dear girl, why not? You'll have a very pleasant time there; and
+anyhow, it's too late to write and tell them you aren't coming."
+
+"We could wire in the morning," she said. "Frank, do you think we ought
+to go?"
+
+He looked a little surprised, but answered readily, "Not if you don't
+want to."
+
+"But why not go?" their father repeated.
+
+She hesitated. "Are you quite sure Andrew and Madge won't--won't try to
+be unpleasant?"
+
+"Let them try if they like!" laughed Heriot. "But I assure you, my dear
+girl, I was so reasonable--so unanswerable, in fact--that they simply
+can't feel annoyed for more than a few hours. Hang it, they are very
+nice good people at heart. Just give 'em time to let the proper point of
+view sink in, and they'll be chirpy as sparrows again. Besides, what
+good could you do by staying at home? The Comyns have a nice place;
+you'll have a capital time. I insist on your going."
+
+"Very well, then," said Jean.
+
+Yet she could hardly picture Andrew and her cousin quite as chirpy as
+sparrows.
+
+And all this time, beneath the very floor of the room where they
+laughed, the plans of the coalition ripened.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+In the course of breakfast upon the following morning, Heriot startled
+his junior partner by announcing his intention of putting in a strenuous
+day's work at the office. Andrew exchanged a curious glance with Mrs.
+Dunbar, and then merely inquired--
+
+"When will you be back?"
+
+"Four o'clock," said Heriot cheerfully. "Quite long enough hours for a
+man of my age" (he smiled humorously at his son). "Of course there's
+sure to be a lot of things to put right, and so on" (Andrew raised a
+startled eye), "but I'll polish 'em off by four."
+
+He ate a remarkably hearty breakfast and strode off blithely, this time
+a few minutes ahead of his partner. It was an even more singular thing
+that Andrew should linger to confer once more with the lady he had so
+lately regarded as the impersonation of everything suspicious.
+
+Another curious incident happened later in the day. At lunch-time the
+junior partner left the office, and, without giving an explanation,
+remained absent through the afternoon. Not that Heriot missed him. He
+smoked and wrote and rallied Mr. Thomieson, and dictated letters which
+left his confidential clerk divided between the extremes of admiration
+for their shrewdness and horror at the terse and lively style in which
+they were couched; in short, he got through a day's work that sent him
+home at four o'clock in the best of spirits.
+
+Andrew met him in the hall.
+
+"Hullo," said Heriot, "where have you been all this time?"
+
+"I want to speak to you for a minute," his son replied, and then, as his
+father turned naturally towards the library door, stayed him. "There's
+some one in there. Just come into the dining-room for a moment."
+
+"Who's in there?"
+
+Andrew waited till he had got him behind the closed door, and then said
+very gravely--
+
+"It's Mrs. Dunbar and a friend of hers."
+
+"What friend?--Not old Charlie Munro?"
+
+"A Mr. Brown. Possibly you've not heard of him before, but I understand
+he's a connection of her late husband's family. She's asked him to come
+and meet you."
+
+The exceeding solemnity of his manner obviously affected Heriot's high
+spirits.
+
+"What's up?" he inquired.
+
+"I should hardly think you would need to ask that, considering what has
+passed between you. In fact, I gather that they want to be satisfied
+there's some reasonable explanation of your conduct."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw gently whistled.
+
+"Oh, that's the game, is it? Well, I suppose I'll just have to tell him
+the simple truth, in justice to myself."
+
+His son heartily agreed.
+
+"It's the only thing to be done," said he, "the only honest course left,
+so far as I can see. Just make a clean breast of everything, and you may
+trust me to confirm all you say."
+
+"My dear boy, you're devilish good. I'm afraid I really haven't been as
+appreciative lately as I ought. You're talking like a sportsman now.
+Come on, we'll go in and tackle 'em together."
+
+He took his son's arm and gave him a friendly smile as they crossed the
+hall; but the seriousness of the situation seemed to prevent Andrew from
+returning these evidences of comradeship.
+
+The injured lady met her betrayer with marked constraint. She seemed to
+anticipate little pleasure from the interview, but had evidently made
+up her mind to go through with it as a duty she owed her reputation and
+her friend Mr. Brown. This gentleman was grave, elderly, and of an
+unmistakably professional aspect. In a vague way Heriot fancied he had
+seen his face before, though he could not recollect where.
+
+"Well," said Mr. Walkingshaw genially, "here we all are; and now what's
+the business before the meeting?"
+
+"I understand," replied Mr. Brown, in a calm and gentle voice, "that you
+have broken off your engagement with this lady. Now, as a--well, I may
+say, as an interested friend of Mrs. Dunbar, I should very much like to
+have your reasons."
+
+Heriot smiled.
+
+"Will you undertake to believe them?"
+
+"I undertake to give them my closest professional consideration,
+whatever they are."
+
+"May I ask if you are a lawyer?"
+
+Mr. Brown coughed once or twice before replying.
+
+"He is," said Andrew decisively, and Mr. Brown seemed content to let
+this reply pass as his own.
+
+"You can talk to me with the utmost frankness," he said; "in fact, I
+infinitely prefer it."
+
+"Well," began Heriot, "the simple fact of the matter is that I am
+growing rapidly younger."
+
+"Ah?" commented Mr. Brown.
+
+It was curious that he should exchange a quick glance, not with the lady
+whose interests he was representing, but with her errant lover's
+faithful son.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Walkingshaw, warming to his narrative, "I am literally
+racing backwards. It is like a drive over a road one has passed along
+before, only in the opposite direction and much faster. I simply whizz
+past the old milestones. Now, a man who is behaving like that has no
+business to marry an already mature lady, who is growing older at the
+rate of, say one, while he is growing younger at the rate of, say ten;
+has he, Mr. Brown?"
+
+"No," replied Mr. Brown emphatically, "I honestly don't think he has."
+
+Heriot was delighted with this confirmation of his judgment. He threw a
+glance at the widow to see how she took it, but her eyes were cast down,
+and she displayed no emotion whatever.
+
+"That's the long and the short of the matter, Mr. Brown. I make the
+profoundest apologies to my charming relative; but if you agree that I
+acted for the best, I suppose we might as well adjourn and have a cup of
+tea."
+
+"Just one moment," said Mr. Brown gently. "I should like to have a few
+more particulars regarding this very interesting phenomenon, if you
+don't mind."
+
+"Not a bit, my dear sir. It's a very natural curiosity."
+
+"You feel, of course, a considerable exhilaration of spirits in
+consequence of this change?"
+
+"I'm simply bursting with them."
+
+"Naturally, naturally. And you propose, no doubt, to exercise your
+activities in some beneficial way?"
+
+"In a dozen ways. I've already been the means of securing two happy
+engagements for my youngest children."
+
+"And breaking off two," said Andrew.
+
+His father turned to him with a frown. This was hardly the support he
+expected. To his great pleasure, the sympathetic Mr. Brown also
+disapproved of the interruption.
+
+"One thing at a time, please," said he, and resumed his intelligent
+inquiries. "These young persons to whom your children have become
+engaged--they are hardly the matches you would have made at one time,
+are they?"
+
+"I'm afraid I was a bit of an ass at one time," Mr. Walkingshaw
+confessed.
+
+"I see, I see. And now, as to the engagements you have broken off--you
+felt yourself inspired, prompted from within, as it were, to bring them
+to an end, I take it?"
+
+"You've put it deuced well," said Heriot.
+
+"Did you feel in any way inspired from without--any visions or voices,
+so to speak, any manifestations or appearances--anything of that kind?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw looked a little puzzled.
+
+"The voices of romance and love, and that sort of thing, I certainly
+heard."
+
+"Quite so, quite so, Mr. Walkingshaw. You heard them, did you? Well,
+it's not every one who hears these things."
+
+He smiled pleasantly, and Mr. Walkingshaw became confirmed in his
+opinion that this was quite one of the most agreeable men he had met
+for a long time.
+
+"May I ask whether you propose to take any more steps to put this poor
+world of ours to rights?" inquired Mr. Brown.
+
+"He is taking control of the business again," said Andrew.
+
+"Again?" retorted Heriot. "When did I ever lose control of the business,
+I'd like to know? I've had my holiday, and now I'm going to make things
+hum in the office."
+
+"You are going to make them hum?" asked Mr. Brown. "Do you mean you are
+going to override your partner's decisions, and so on?"
+
+"My dear Mr. Brown, if I waited for his decisions, I'd be kicking up my
+heels in the office half the day. Metaphorically speaking, my son is
+somewhat like a man who fills his bath from a teacup instead of turning
+on the tap. I don't override his decisions, I simply anticipate them."
+
+"That is his account of it," said Andrew darkly.
+
+"Well, well," smiled Mr. Brown, "I think I understand. And now, Mr.
+Walkingshaw, may I ask if there is anything else you propose to do?"
+
+This time he glanced at Andrew, as if courting information.
+
+"He is altering his will," said the junior partner.
+
+"Ah!" remarked his visitor again.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw drew himself up.
+
+"That is my own affair," he said, with dignity.
+
+"Quite so--quite so," replied Mr. Brown in that peculiarly soothing
+voice he had at his command. "We would wish to make no inquiries into
+that. Only, there's just one thing I'd like to know--you don't mean to
+let the grass grow under your feet, I take it?"
+
+"No fears," said Heriot. "What I mean to do, I'm going to do at once.
+By Jingo, I'll be under age in a few years! I've got to do things
+promptly."
+
+"Thank you," replied Mr. Brown suavely, "I think that is all I want to
+know. We needn't detain you any longer, Mr. Walkingshaw."
+
+It struck Heriot that this was a funny way for the agreeable Mr. Brown
+to treat him in his own house. He assumed the air of a host at once.
+
+"Then we'll go up and have some tea. Come along, Mr. Brown."
+
+"I think," said his visitor politely, "that possibly your son and I had
+better have just a word or two with this lady first, if you'll permit
+us."
+
+"Certainly, my dear sir; just come up when you're ready."
+
+As he went upstairs, it suddenly struck him as rather odd that her
+connection by marriage and legal adviser should refer to Madge as "this
+lady"; and also that she should have sat so silently through a
+conversation which primarily concerned herself. But then such rum things
+did happen in this amusing world that it was never worth while worrying.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+Stroking the cat and sipping his tea, Mr. Walkingshaw conversed
+pleasantly with his sister. Jean and Frank had gone into the country,
+and the two sat alone together in the drawing-room.
+
+"Brown?" said Miss Walkingshaw. "I never knew the Dunbars had a relative
+of that name. Who will he be?"
+
+"I seem to mind seeing his face somewhere," replied her brother, "but
+more about him I can't tell you, except that he's a very pleasant
+fellow. Hullo, Andrew, where's Brown?"
+
+The junior partner had entered alone.
+
+"He had to go," said he.
+
+"Dash it, he might have said good-by."
+
+Andrew made no answer. He was looking at his aunt in a way that he had
+borrowed from his father's bygone manner. Though he had only quite
+recently begun to practise it seriously, he was sufficiently expert to
+convey unmistakably the fact that he desired her to withdraw. She rose
+obediently.
+
+"Hullo, where are you off to?" asked her brother.
+
+"I have things to do, Heriot," she answered nervously, "just a few
+things to do."
+
+As she passed Andrew she paused, and her lips framed a question. There
+was something in his manner that frightened her; strange things were
+happening, she felt sure. But his glowering eye silenced her, and she
+faded noiselessly out of the room. Then Andrew advanced upon his father.
+
+"Just run your eye through that," he said quietly.
+
+He handed his father a large double sheet of blue foolscap containing a
+great deal of printed matter. The particular portion of it to which Mr.
+Walkingshaw's attention was directed ran thus--
+
+                         "CERTIFICATE OF EMERGENCY
+
+     "(This certificate authorizes the detention of a Patient in an
+     Asylum for a period not exceeding three days, without any order by
+     the Sheriff.)
+
+     "I, the undersigned George William Downie, being M.D., Glasgow,
+     hereby certify on soul and conscience, that I have this day at 15,
+     Roray Place, in the County of Edinburgh, seen and personally
+     examined James Heriot Walkingshaw, and that the said person is of
+     unsound mind, and a proper Patient to be placed in an Asylum, and
+     is in a sufficiently good state of bodily health at this date to
+     be removed to the Asylum.
+
+     "And I hereby certify that the case of the said Person is one of
+     emergency."
+
+It was then dated, and signed, "George W. Downie."
+
+"Asylum--Dr. Downie!" gasped Heriot. "But--what _is_ this?"
+
+"It says on the paper. Just look--can't you read?"
+
+Heriot gave a convulsive start.
+
+"Was--was _that_ Dr. Downie?"
+
+His son nodded.
+
+Again Heriot's startled eyes ran over the certificate, and then they
+turned upon his son. It is regrettable that his next words were not more
+worthy of his reputation.
+
+"You d----d young skunk!"
+
+"It's no use swearing," his son replied coldly.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw fell back in his chair and seemed to meditate.
+
+"You wired to Glasgow for him?" he inquired in a moment.
+
+"I did."
+
+"So that I shouldn't recognize him, I suppose?"
+
+"Naturally."
+
+"What a sell if I'd spotted him and talked what the silly fool would
+have thought sense!"
+
+"You didn't," said Andrew.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw shook his head.
+
+"Man, I'd never have given you credit for the brains to do the like of
+this."
+
+Then he started.
+
+"I see it all now! It was Madge put you up to the idea! Eh? Oh, you
+needn't trouble to deny it; I know you haven't the imagination
+yourself."
+
+With a calmer air he studied the paper afresh.
+
+"It's only for three days," he observed in a cheerier tone.
+
+"Do you actually imagine you're likely to get out at the end of three
+days?"
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw looked at his son steadily.
+
+"You know perfectly well that every word I said was true."
+
+Andrew remained coldly immovable.
+
+"I am no judge myself. I'd sooner depend on Dr. Downie's opinion."
+
+"Hypocrite to the last!" scoffed Heriot. "Can you look me in the face,
+Andrew, and tell me that you honestly thought it was insanity to make
+friends of my children and help them to marry the people they loved, and
+divide my money fairly among you all? Can you?"
+
+"Permit me to remind you that it was not I who signed the certificate."
+
+There was a moment's very dead silence, and then Heriot asked--
+
+"Then do you actually mean to shut me up in a lunatic asylum for the
+rest of my days?"
+
+Andrew had some of the finer points of the legal mind. He noted the
+trace of emotion in his father's voice, and knew he was fairly on top at
+last. To let this fact sink still further into Heriot's mind, he eyed
+him in austere silence for a few moments before he answered--
+
+"If I have to, I shall."
+
+"If you _have_ to? What d'ye mean?"
+
+"I mean that I am not going to have my business ruined--"
+
+"Ruined! Can you not stick to the truth on a single point? I am putting
+new life into it!"
+
+"I don't care for your kind of life, thanks," said Andrew primly, "and
+I repeat that I am not going to have my business--enlivened, if that's
+how you choose to put it, and my family disgraced, and my reputation
+lost; and if I let you go on another day as you've been going, it'll be
+too late to save any of them. But I don't want to be harder than I can
+help." He paused for a moment, and his lip grew longer and straighter.
+"So I'll offer you an alternative."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"If you'll guarantee to clear out of the country and not come back
+again, I'll take no further proceedings on the strength of this
+certificate. I don't want to put you in an asylum any more than you
+want to go, but I've got to protect myself."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw mused.
+
+"When do you want me to start?"
+
+"At once."
+
+"At once!"
+
+"Yes, at once, before you see anybody else."
+
+"I'm not even to say good-by?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You've got some game on," said Heriot.
+
+"I've got to protect myself and my family."
+
+His father looked at him searchingly; but his face remained a solemn
+medallion of virtue. Then Mr. Walkingshaw again fell back in his chair
+and mused. Gradually the flicker of a smile appeared in his eye. It
+spread to his lips, and he sprang up cheerfully.
+
+"It's not half a bad idea!" he exclaimed. "I'm just getting to the age
+when a young man ought to go about a bit and see something of the world.
+New Zealand now--that's a fine country--or Japan--or Texas. By Gad, you
+know I've several times wanted to do a bit of roughing it and big game
+shooting lately."
+
+His son looked at him suspiciously. This cheerfulness was unusual in
+people he had worsted, and the unusual was always to be distrusted. But
+to the less vigilant, ordinary mind Mr. Walkingshaw merely presented the
+spectacle of a man of young middle-age with a heart some ten years
+younger still.
+
+"Of course it will be a wrench," he added, with a sobered air. "I'll
+miss 'em all: Frank--Ellen--Jean. By Gad, I shall miss Jean. However, it
+need only be for a year or two. Meanwhile--by Jingo, there's no doubt
+about it!--this is the chance of my life. Let's see now, what does one
+need? A revolver with six thingamajigs--top-boots and riding breeches--a
+good compass--"
+
+The chill voice of Andrew interrupted this catalogue.
+
+"Once you go away, you've got to stay away."
+
+"Stay away!"
+
+"Your allowance will depend on that."
+
+"My allowance!" gasped Heriot.
+
+"Your estate has got to be administered by me just as though you were"
+(instinctively this pious young man's face grew solemn) "taken away from
+us."
+
+"I wish I were not your father," sighed Heriot. "In happier
+circumstances, the pleasure of kicking you would just be immense."
+
+Andrew disliked physical brutality. His cheeks grew flabbier at the very
+idea of such an outrage--even in theory.
+
+"If you were to try anything of that kind, I warn you I'd withdraw my
+alternative."
+
+His father laughed reassuringly.
+
+"Oh, you needn't keep your back against the bookcase: I'll leave the job
+for some luckier devil."
+
+A thought struck him.
+
+"By the way, I've promised to give Jean and Frank enough to keep them
+going. You'll see to that?"
+
+"I'll carry out the provisions made when you were in your right mind."
+
+"What provisions?"
+
+"The terms of your will."
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw looked at his son steadily and in silence. After a full
+minute under this stare Andrew began to grow uneasy.
+
+"There's to be no more nonsense, I warn you," he said.
+
+"You mean either to rob your brother and sister of their money, or
+revenge yourself by stopping their marriages? By Heaven, Andrew--"
+
+He broke off and plunged into meditation. Then his eyes began to smile,
+though his lips were now compressed.
+
+"Very well," he murmured.
+
+His son still felt a vague sense of apprehension.
+
+"Mind, you've got to stay abroad."
+
+"For ever?"
+
+"You must give me your word you won't come back for two years certain,
+and after that you lose your allowance if you land in Great Britain or
+Ireland."
+
+"Including the Channel Islands?"
+
+"Including them."
+
+"I see your game," smiled Heriot. "But I give you my word. Poor Jean,
+poor Frank--"
+
+"You're not even to write to them," interrupted Andrew.
+
+Mr. Walkingshaw stroked his chin meditatively.
+
+"I agree to that," he said. "Any more conditions?"
+
+The smile that prevailed in his discomfited parent's eye perturbed the
+junior partner. He warily scanned all possible loopholes.
+
+"You're not to communicate with Madge Dunbar."
+
+"God forbid!" said Heriot fervently.
+
+"Nor my aunt."
+
+"Bless her, poor soul; no fears of that."
+
+"I think that's all," said Andrew reluctantly.
+
+So long as those eyes continued to look at him like that, he desired to
+pile condition on condition. But the overwhelming advantages of being
+encumbered with no imagination occasionally--very occasionally--have
+compensating drawbacks. He could imagine nothing else to be guarded
+against.
+
+"Then I'd better pack and be off."
+
+"You had," said Andrew.
+
+Just as he was leaving the room, Heriot turned and asked--
+
+"You've heard of changelings?"
+
+Andrew stared.
+
+"Do you not mind hearing of goblins that get put into cradles instead of
+the real babies? That accounts for you. Thank the Lord, I need never
+again claim the discredit of begetting you!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+A luggage-laden cab clattered over the granite cubes and passed out of
+the ring of tall mansions and the shadow of the stately trees within the
+garden. The career of Heriot Walkingshaw, W.S., was ended, and shocked
+respectability could lower again her up-rolled eyes and see nothing more
+outrageous than a prowling cat. May her troubles always end as happily!
+Undoubtedly, had the full facts been there and then made public, a
+statue of the junior partner (completely clad) would have adorned that
+decorous garden.
+
+But his modest reticence was remarkable. He stood in the somber hall
+listening intently to make sure that the cab really did ascend the steep
+street towards the station, when his ally, after peering over the
+banisters, ran downstairs to meet him. He was just heaving a deep sigh
+of relief.
+
+"Did some one go away in a cab?" she asked.
+
+He looked at her sharply.
+
+"Quite possibly."
+
+In her eyes gleamed a sudden hint of suspicion.
+
+"Was it Heriot?"
+
+He took his time before answering very deliberately--
+
+"It was."
+
+"Where is he going?"
+
+Again he paused. As every moment took his father farther from them, so
+every moment was precious.
+
+"Can you not guess?"
+
+"What!" she cried. "You're actually putting him into an asylum?"
+
+"It's the best place for him."
+
+She seized his arm.
+
+"Did you give him the alternative?"
+
+With a chaste movement he withdrew the arm.
+
+"I gave him an alternative, certainly."
+
+Her black eyes seemed to pierce into his brain. He disliked being looked
+at like that exceedingly.
+
+"_Our_ alternative?"
+
+"Our?" he questioned.
+
+"The alternative we discussed last night?"
+
+"We discussed a good many things."
+
+She kept following him up till his back was nearly against the front
+door.
+
+"Did you offer him the alternative of keeping his promise to me?"
+
+"Look out," he muttered. "Some of the servants may be coming."
+
+"Did you?"
+
+"Would you marry a man that's off his head?"
+
+"He isn't; he was only pretending!"
+
+"That's not what Dr. Downie thought."
+
+"Dr. Downie! What did he know!"
+
+"He certified him."
+
+He was backed against the front door now.
+
+"Did you offer Heriot that alternative?"
+
+He paused for a moment. Heriot must be at the station by now, and he had
+not many spare minutes before the train started.
+
+"No, I did not," he answered.
+
+The sympathetic widow's hand shot out; there was a smack and then a
+thud. The smack was caused by a momentary encounter between the hand and
+his spherical cheek, the thud by a meeting of his head and the door.
+
+"You miserable creature!" she hissed.
+
+With a look such as only the righteous can ever hope to wear, and that
+in the moment of martyrdom, he watched her rush upstairs sobbing.
+
+And thus the coalition, having served its beneficent purpose, came
+abruptly to an end. A great deal might be written in this connection,
+adducing this instance to illustrate the wider fields of statecraft,
+but unfortunately the present narrative is a simple record of facts, and
+not a philosophical treatise. The immediate consequence of the episode
+was that on the following morning Mrs. Dunbar set out for the west of
+Ross-shire to pay a long-promised visit to a third cousin who possessed
+several thousand acres of moorland in that vicinity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+It was on the following morning that Jean and Frank returned, their
+faces glowing with country sunshine and spring wind, their hearts
+quickened with anticipation. In the train coming home they had exchanged
+many confidences. Could he possibly manage to get married before he went
+out to India? Frank wondered. Would Lucas have to wait till he had sold
+a few more pictures? wondered Jean. He ran whistling up the steps and
+rang the bell. She burst radiantly into the somber hall. And then, at
+twelve o'clock in the morning of an ordinary working week-day, they
+found the junior partner at home to receive them. Such a portent had
+never before been seen.
+
+"Where's father?" asked Jean.
+
+Andrew's cheeks twitched nervously; yet on the whole he maintained a
+compassionate expression highly honorable to his fraternal instincts.
+In a hushed voice he addressed his sister.
+
+"I want to have a word with you," said he.
+
+He took her apart from her brother and shut the library door securely.
+Frank was such a hot-tempered young fellow; and he had suffered one
+physical outrage already. In a voice as appropriate as his face he
+gently broke the news--
+
+"Our father has been removed to an asylum."
+
+"Removed--to an asylum!" gasped Jean.
+
+She did not strike him, but on the whole he was even more glad when that
+interview came to an end than when he saw the widow's muscular back at
+last turn from the front door.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A few days afterwards a tall man in a sportsmanlike ulster walked up the
+gangway of a steamship bound for a port in South America. He was
+followed on board by a friend with very blue eyes and a cavalier
+mustache. They talked for a few minutes and then shook hands
+affectionately.
+
+"Well, Lucas, good-by, old fellow," said the passenger. "And remember
+now what you're to tell them. They're not to drop a hint--not a whisper
+of what they know. Just keep your tails up all of you, as best you can.
+Handy thing, this revolver we chose. I must practise shooting from the
+hip pocket. I say, take special care of Jean. Tell her I know how plucky
+she is--she'll be staunch--she'll wait. Tell her I'll often be
+thinking--Hullo, last bell; you'd better get on shore."
+
+A little later the steamer was in the middle of the gray Thames, bearing
+Heriot, his fortunes, and his six-shooter far, far from the office of
+Walkingshaw & Gilliflower. The protagonist of virtuous respectability
+sat there triumphantly enshrined. He had done everything a good man
+could reasonably be expected to do; only he had not imagined Lucas
+Vernon waving a farewell to his late partner.
+
+
+
+
+PART V
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Even in the heyday of Mr. Walkingshaw's career, when he was most
+conspicuously an example to his fellow-citizens, revered by the young
+and applauded by the old, there were to be found certain austere critics
+who held that, for themselves, the character of Andrew presented the
+more chaste ideal. Exemplary though his father's life had been (up to
+that fatal illness), there was always a latent vein of geniality in his
+character, a reminiscence of good living in his ruddy countenance, a
+brightness in his eye, that suggested possibilities; and even a
+possibility might conceivably, under certain circumstances, given this
+and that--well, it might be safer away. Whereas Andrew's pale round
+cheeks and solemn aspect were as reassuring as a plate of porridge.
+
+These pioneers of criticism were thought extremists six months ago; now,
+they had all respectable society at their back. Of course it was never a
+point in a man's favor that his father (or indeed any relative) could
+run amuck as Andrew's had done. On the other hand, he had so promptly
+and fearlessly plucked out the parent who offended him, and behaved,
+moreover, through all this tribulation with such becoming solemnity,
+that he very soon began rather to gain than to lose by his martyrdom.
+Each step he took was discretion itself. His father, people learnt, had
+been quietly removed to a retreat for the mentally infirm, situated,
+some said in Devonshire, and others in North Wales. The very ambiguity
+on this point was highly approved. It argued the perfection of prudence.
+As for the ungrateful girl who had jilted him, he had talked at
+considerable length to his friends on that subject, and they reported
+that, though naturally grieved, and even offended, by her conduct, he
+was nevertheless able to express in a calm voice many Christian
+sentiments; frequently, for instance, assuring his audience that he
+forgave her, and that if she preferred to stew in her own juice he was
+too much of a gentleman to interfere with her pleasure. At this rate, it
+was recognized that very soon nothing the Goddess of Mediocrity could
+offer would be beyond his reach. She had many worshipers, but
+unquestionably Andrew Walkingshaw looked like her favorite.
+
+He himself was modestly disposed to agree with this opinion. Really,
+the success of his prompt procedure had been remarkable. From his two
+sensible married sisters he had never anticipated trouble, and they had
+loyally fulfilled his expectations. With both he held private
+consultations, and each accepted his version of the facts without a
+single unnecessary or disquieting question. They knew they could trust
+Andrew. But what did surprise him was the calmness into which the
+impotent indignation of Frank and Jean subsided. Within three days they
+were converted from volcanoes to icebergs. It was a condition too frigid
+to give him unalloyed delight, yet all things considered he could not
+but think it exceedingly encouraging.
+
+"I presume you don't intend to give either of us a marrying allowance?"
+said Frank, interrupting with this practical inquiry the guarded
+narrative of his elder brother.
+
+"If I could feel it in any way to be my duty--"
+
+Frank interrupted him again.
+
+"But you don't; what?"
+
+"No, Frank, I may tell you candidly--"
+
+For the third time the soldier cut in--
+
+"And I may tell _you_ candidly that of all contemptible hounds I've ever
+had the misfortune to meet, you're the most despicable."
+
+That concluded the conference; and judging from Jean's pointed neglect
+of any opportunities for consultation with which Andrew provided her, he
+gathered that Frank had sufficiently expressed her opinion also. It was,
+no doubt, painful to see oneself thus misjudged, but at the same time he
+could not feel too thankful for their abstinence from any further
+inquiry regarding their father's fate. At first this lack of curiosity
+struck him as almost suspicious, but he was reassured by his conviction
+of their depravity. While their father was favoring them, they made a
+fuss about him: now that he could favor them no more, their feigned
+affection for him disappeared, and all they thought of was reviling the
+one member of the family who knew what was best for them. Each time he
+recalled those monstrous epithets of Frank's, this conviction deepened,
+till he became positively ashamed of them for their indifference. They
+might at least have gone through the form of asking for some news of
+their father now and then, even if they had not the hearts to sympathize
+with his malady. But they had no sense of decency, those two.
+
+Fortunately, he was soon relieved of Frank's society. Some weeks before
+his furlough was up he returned to India, and the house was well rid of
+him. A meandering and indignant letter from Archibald Berstoun of that
+ilk, informing Mr. Andrew Walkingshaw (in the third person) that he
+would be obliged if he would kindly keep his brother from trespassing in
+his garden, indicated that the despairing lover had paid a farewell, and
+surreptitious, visit to his mistress; but that was the last
+inconvenience he inflicted.
+
+To add to Andrew's relief, Jean came to him a few days after Frank's
+departure and announced her intention of repairing to London and
+adopting the profession of nursing. In retailing this incident to his
+friends, her brother laid particular emphasis on the generosity he had
+displayed and the scanty thanks she had tendered him. The financial
+assistance he offered her was ample--perfectly ample for all that a girl
+wanted; while in the matter of good advice he had been positively
+extravagant.
+
+"You'll think well over this, Jean," said he.
+
+"I have thought," she answered briefly.
+
+"It's an arduous profession you're embarking on, and a responsible
+profession, and an honorable profession. It requires--"
+
+"Oh, I know what it requires," she interrupted. "It will be much better
+if you simply tell your friends what you intended to tell me. They may
+be impressed: I am not."
+
+And, like the obliging brother he was, Andrew obeyed her wishes
+literally. He had his reward, for such of his friends as were able to
+wait till he had finished his narrative told him candidly that they
+thought he had left nothing unsaid, and that certainly his sister ought
+to consider herself fortunate. In fact, he only relinquished his grasp
+of their buttonholes when they had acquiesced in these conclusions.
+
+The spectacle was now presented to the world of poor Andrew Walkingshaw,
+bereft of his father and deserted by his sister, living in that great
+house in company only with his sense of duty and his aunt. People were
+very sorry for him indeed; they said he should marry; in fact, such as
+enjoyed the privilege of his acquaintance even began to select suitable
+young women for his approval. Andrew inspected these candidates gravely,
+but at the same time let it be clearly understood that he was in no
+hurry; he might decide to marry, or he might not--anyhow, if he did, the
+lady would be conferring no favor. It was left to your common sense to
+decide by whom, in that case, the favor would be conferred.
+
+All this sympathy was very consoling, but in a world partially
+compounded of people less sensible than Andrew Walkingshaw, a few
+disappointments are inevitable. He found his in the annoying attitude of
+two or three valuable but wrong-headed clients, who would persist in
+making frequent inquiries as to the probable duration of the senior
+partner's indisposition. There was an unpleasant sense of comparison
+implied in these questions, a hint of preference for the slap-dash,
+hang-technicalities method with which, in his latter days, Heriot had
+scandalized aggrieved spinsters in quest of consolation and hesitating
+suitors desirous of having their minds made up. The trouble was that
+these latter classes, though delightful company to one of Andrew's
+sympathetic disposition, were considerably less remunerative than the
+irritating inquirers; and so long as there seemed any possibility of his
+father's return to sanity and his office, he felt that he could never
+regard his position as wholly satisfactory; on the other hand, though a
+sick lion may possibly be compared with a live dog, a defunct lion is
+proverbially out of the running.
+
+Andrew thought over this aspect of the case long and conscientiously. He
+was exceedingly truthful, he disliked superfluous butchery, but what
+choice had he?
+
+It is said by the more inspired species of social reformer that what
+good men deem theoretically advisable is sure to happen sooner or later.
+In some cases, if the man be talented as well as good, it happens
+quickly. Within a few months of Jean's desertion came the last touch
+that was needed to complete the pathos of her brother's position and
+disarm the most hostile critic. Among the deaths in the _Scotsman_
+appeared the name of James Heriot Walkingshaw. Nothing was said as
+to how or where he had died; and, in fact, the point was never
+satisfactorily settled whether the sad event took place in North Wales
+or Devonshire; but, of course, the cause was only too evident. Well,
+poor man, it was a mercy the end had come as swiftly as it had. His
+friends were sorry, of course, but not surprised and quite resigned.
+They were very pleased with the way his son took it. He departed quietly
+for the funeral in a hatband six inches wide, and returned with a
+thoughtful and chastened air to resume his daily work. The interment
+took place, it was understood, in a churchyard adjacent to the retreat;
+and under the sad circumstances people thought Andrew had done well to
+attend it unaccompanied by other mourners. In short, every circumstance
+connected with the tragedy served to increase the respect in which he
+was held. Even Jean's unfortunate omission to use black-edged paper when
+writing a few brief and curiously stiff acknowledgments of the letters
+of condolence she received, reacted indirectly in Andrew's favor. People
+pitied the brother of this unfeeling girl. How wounded he must feel by
+her callousness!
+
+But the most satisfactory consequence of all was the cessation of
+inquiries for any other Walkingshaw than Andrew. He considered himself
+justified in holding that this tacitly implied an admission that nobody
+could desire a better lawyer than he. And as there were none to
+contradict this assumption (since he had always made a point of avoiding
+the candid critic like the Devil, the impecunious school friend, and
+Sunday golf), he derived from it the full gratification to which he was
+entitled.
+
+Never, surely, was there a more signal triumph for the meek. His brother
+had abused him, and he was now broiling in India, torn for ever from his
+betrothed; his sister had snubbed him, and there she was homeless in
+London slaving in a hospital; Mrs. Dunbar had smacked his face, and she
+was an exile in the moors of Ross-shire; and now here was his father,
+who had plagued and despised him, numbered in the list of the deceased.
+Alas for Heriot Walkingshaw! He had despised the wrong man when he
+despised Andrew. "The Example is dead; long live the Example!" might
+well have been inscribed upon his tombstone, had their friends been able
+to learn precisely where that monument was situated.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+It is pleasant to be able to turn (still adhering closely to the facts
+as they occurred) from tombstones to orange blossom. His friends
+unanimously felt that Andrew, having suffered so much and so heroically,
+should now obtain the consolation he deserved. Among his many virtues
+none was more remarkable than his instinct for doing exactly what was
+expected of him, and at precisely the right moment. Forthwith he
+announced his engagement to Miss Catherine Henderson, whose father's
+residence had been used as the test by which Heriot first realized his
+disastrous return to youth. Mr. Henderson was now defunct, but his
+possessions served a better purpose than being stared at by a reprobate
+neighbor. They passed, in fact, into Andrew's keeping.
+
+The lady who accompanied them was, of course, an only child, and the
+income of two thousand pounds a year she enjoyed was derived from such
+extraordinarily safe investments that even the cautious Andrew, when he
+went into her affairs with a fellow-solicitor (on the week before he
+proposed), remarked at once that he saw an increase of three hundred and
+fifty pounds to be got without risking a halfpenny. As she was only four
+years older than he, there was no disparity of years on this occasion;
+while her appearance effectually guaranteed her lover against the
+discomforts of rivalry. In short, she was generally admitted to be an
+ideal mate for Andrew Walkingshaw.
+
+It was just eight months after Heriot's disappearance from public life
+that his son led Miss Henderson to the altar of St. Giles' Cathedral,
+and after a brief honeymoon in Switzerland established her in the
+stately mansion overlooking the circular garden. The fortunate couple
+had the further advantage of overlooking (when the leaves were off the
+trees) a substantial addition to their income in the shape of the
+bride's late residence, now let on very advantageous terms to a wealthy
+relative of Mr. Ramornie of Pettigrew. It seemed impossible for any step
+Andrew took to avoid being profitable. When he lost an umbrella at the
+club, it was always to find a better one in its place. And the most
+satisfactory thing of all was the consciousness that his prosperity was
+entirely the result of following the proper kind of principles.
+
+One would fain avert one's eyes from the spectacle presented by the
+luckless Ellen Berstoun, were it not that her unhappy condition makes
+the contrast between lax and proper principles the more poignant. No
+mate with two thousand pounds a year for her! Instead, merely a hopeless
+passion for an impecunious subaltern sweltering in far-off India. That
+was poor company throughout the long series of monotonous months that
+were now her portion. The brown buds on the tall beeches broke into
+leaf, and the dark pines were tipped with vivid green; the leaves
+withered and fell, and the dead needles littered the moss. Those were
+the most exciting changes that happened. Her father (a victim of gout)
+cursed her and Frank and Andrew and Heriot impartially. Her mother
+sighed and let her into secrets of their housekeeping and finances which
+clearly showed how selfish she had been. Her sisters were kind upon the
+whole, but dreadfully disposed to talk things over in a practical kind
+of way.
+
+And then at intervals arrived those letters, very long and very loving,
+and very full of riding and marching under strange skies, and adventures
+of which strange dark peoples and stranger beasts were the sinister
+ingredients. They brightened her eyes for a little while, and then left
+her sadder than before.
+
+In the course of the second year of her bereavement, the disappointment
+of her parents with her failure was converted into satisfaction at the
+success of her sister Mary. An astonishingly wealthy shooting tenant in
+the neighborhood danced seven times with her at the County Ball, and
+proposed next morning by letter. He would have been accepted by telegram
+had Archibald of that ilk had his way, but fortunately the gentleman's
+ardor had not cooled by the time the next post reached him. A week later
+his prospective best man wriggled out of his duties by coming to an
+arrangement with Mary's younger sister that the wedding should be a
+double-barreled affair, with two brides and two grooms. As this second
+suitor was very nearly as rich as the first, Ellen found her fate
+alleviated by the entire and permanent removal of her parents'
+displeasure. She became now a mere object of pity, mingled at times with
+contempt for her folly in dooming herself to a sterile spinsterhood; for
+it was clear that Frank and she could never hope to marry, however much
+writing-paper they might waste.
+
+Just as the world never plumbed the depths of dignity and purpose in
+Woman till it saw her chained to a railing, clasping the hated constable
+like a lover, a hoarse example to her sluggish sisters, so it can never
+realize her capacity for foolishness till it has seen her waiting
+through weary years, hoping against reason, the victim of illogical
+constancy to a mere young man. Sweet and gracious Ellen Berstoun, so
+slender and pretty and charming, wasting her fragrance in the old garden
+and the dark pine-woods for the sake of certain passionate memories and
+the most impractical of day-dreams, was a sight to make a philosopher
+despair.
+
+Undoubtedly Andrew's were the proper principles.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+With the drawing in of dusk a thin mist stole up from the river and
+stealthily crept through the streets and lanes of Chelsea. It was not
+yet five o'clock, but on an afternoon in the depth of winter the little
+touch of fog converted dusk to darkness. The mist was not thick, but
+very cold and clammy, and in the zigzag lane the lamps were blurred and
+the shadows deep. Two people left a bus in the King's Road and turned
+down it. He was broad-shouldered, and swung along with a fine decided
+stride: she was trim and erect, and very quietly clad; her face was
+fresh and bright, a smile haunted her eyes, and her straight little nose
+seemed to breathe independence.
+
+"The air is beastly damp," said he. "I wish you'd let me bring you in a
+cab."
+
+"Nonsense, Lucas," she answered stoutly; "we neither of us can afford
+it. You must learn to be sensible."
+
+"But, my dear girl, I tell you I'm beginning to make money now."
+
+"Well, don't begin to spend it; and then perhaps you may have a little
+in the bank in a year or two."
+
+"A year or two!" he exclaimed; "I'll have enough in six months to--"
+
+She interrupted him briskly.
+
+"Lucas! Don't you remember we agreed that whichever of us said 'marry'
+first should be fined?"
+
+"I never agreed."
+
+"Then I shall break off the engagement."
+
+Yet she continued walking quickly by his side till they came to the
+studio. He took out his key, but she stopped short on the pavement with
+a fine air of decision.
+
+"I won't come in unless you promise to be more or less rational," she
+said.
+
+And then with the same air of decision she entered.
+
+After a few minutes' apparently unnecessary delay he lit the gas and she
+settled herself in the deck-chair while he filled the teapot.
+
+"Nursing is too heavy work for you," he said suddenly.
+
+"Don't be absurd," she smiled.
+
+He put down the teapot, took her by the shoulders, and looked into her
+eyes, at once critic and adorer.
+
+"Jean! You can't deceive me. It's my business to know how people sit
+when they are tired, and what signs in their faces show they are
+overworked. You are nearly dead beat."
+
+"Only--only a very little, Lucas," she said less stoutly.
+
+Her spirit was brave, but her feet were weary, and how her back ached!
+
+"I'm going to take you away from that infernal hospital," he announced.
+
+Her back stiffened again.
+
+"Lucas! you promised to be sensible."
+
+He smiled down at her.
+
+"I have the sense to marry you--and do it at once, too!"
+
+She jumped up.
+
+"Lucas!"
+
+"Jean!"
+
+He held her fast.
+
+"You may be strong enough to hold me," she panted, "but you aren't
+strong enough to marry me against my will!"
+
+"But why shouldn't we? Why the mischief, why the dickens, why the devil
+not?"
+
+"Because you'd be bankrupt in a month. You've _no_ sense, dear. Do get
+that into your head. By your own admission you have only just begun to
+sell your pictures. Wait and see whether it lasts--wait for a couple of
+years--"
+
+"A couple of--! I won't, and that's flat!"
+
+"One year, then."
+
+"Twelve months? I can't, Jean."
+
+"You must!"
+
+"Daren't you risk it now?"
+
+She drew herself back a little.
+
+"Lucas, that isn't fair. I dare do _anything_--except come to you
+without a penny, and probably ruin you. If I had even twenty pounds a
+year to bring you, I'd risk it; but you know quite well that if I marry
+against Andrew's wishes any time within seven years I forfeit
+everything."
+
+"If I killed Andrew," asked the painter grimly, "who would his money go
+to?"
+
+"Wait!" she said, her spirit smiling through her eyes. "Don't you trust
+father to help us somehow--some time or other?"
+
+He twisted his mustache desperately upwards.
+
+"I want to help myself."
+
+She smiled openly now.
+
+"You can't be trusted yet; you're so greedy!"
+
+He laughed, but a little wryly.
+
+"It's because I'm starving."
+
+"Then work, work!" said Jean.
+
+"I can't work harder," he answered more philosophically. "I can only
+sell faster."
+
+"And you're doing that too," she said encouragingly.
+
+They needed all the encouragement they could snatch, these two perverse
+and desperate lovers. People who lack the sense to provide themselves
+with an income after falling in love generally do.
+
+At the end of an hour, one of those galloping hours that fly swifter
+than ten ordinary minutes, they passed out into the lane again. The mist
+was now so thick that even when the way grew straight they could see no
+more than two lamps ahead, and it was very chill and damp.
+
+"I'll hail a cab as soon as I see one."
+
+"I won't drive in it, I warn you."
+
+He implored, but she shook her fair head resolutely.
+
+"One of us must be practical," she persisted.
+
+"And the other in love?"
+
+She pressed his hand, but remained the charming incarnation of
+obstinacy. He laughed at last, though a little anxiously as he saw a
+fringe of tiny drops gather on her hair; and he let her have her way.
+Together they entered a bus and slowly rumbled eastwards. The bus was
+full, and for a long time they sat in silence.
+
+"It's quite fine here!" she exclaimed at last; "we've come out of the
+mist--look at the stars!"
+
+They both cheered up amazingly. It actually seemed as if they were
+preposterous enough to take this ordinary meteorological incident as an
+omen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+"We'll have to ask the Rivingtons," said Andrew.
+
+"And not the Donaldsons?" inquired his wife.
+
+Andrew reflected. This was to be a very special dinner party; quite the
+smartest function they had given yet. His sister would want to be there,
+especially when she heard the Ramornies were coming over for it. On the
+other hand, they knew a great many more distinguished people than Hector
+and his wife had yet become, and of these they could only invite a small
+selection to the dinner party. It was a case in which principle clashed
+with principle.
+
+"We'll have Gertrude and Hector too," he announced.
+
+He had just remembered that Walkingshaw & Gilliflower were briefing
+Hector in a forthcoming case, and that there had been some discussion in
+the office as to the precisely proper fee to which, at that moment in
+his upward career, he was entitled. He would set this dinner against the
+odd two guineas in dispute. That, anyhow was an equitable principle, if
+ever there was one.
+
+"And of course Lord and Lady Kilconquar?"
+
+"Of course," said Andrew.
+
+"And Sir William Sinclair?"
+
+Andrew nodded.
+
+"Must we ask the Mackintoshes?"
+
+Andrew frowned.
+
+"They'll do for our next dinner."
+
+That was not going to be quite so smart a function.
+
+"That's twenty-two," said Mrs. Walkingshaw.
+
+"Just the right number," replied her husband. "It was what the
+Kilconquars had when we dined there."
+
+Everything that Andrew had done was right, and his circumstances
+reflected his rectitude. No dodging about devious lanes in the fog for
+him and Mrs. Walkingshaw; no slow progress in crowded omnibuses; no
+Bohemian teas in paint-smelling studios. The streets through which they
+passed were wide and stately, even if a trifle windy; a motor car
+whirled them to their destination (which was always the right place to
+be seen at); their meals were consumed in sedate Georgian apartments,
+and in every detail would have satisfied a peer. They moved through
+life on oiled and noiseless wheels, wrapped in comfort and attended by
+respect. Let no carping critic say that the good things in this life
+are not distributed according to the most laudable principle. The
+guinea-fowl lays where she sees a nest-egg, and the larger it is the
+more does she deposit. And the prosperous nest-owner is he who stays
+always beside his treasure, gently coaxing the fowl, and vigilantly
+guarding against the least suspicion of disturbance, theft, or injury.
+Let anything happen that may in the world outside; here is his post of
+duty, and he sticks to it.
+
+It is true that for a short while an uncomfortable shadow seemed to
+cloud the serenity of Andrew's soul. This happened about the second
+anniversary of his late father's removal from his native city to that
+retreat where he ended his days, and was believed by his aunt to result
+from the painful memories evoked by his recollection of the date. It is
+certain that his serenity returned with each succeeding week, till by
+this time, when several months had passed, he had thrown off his anxiety
+altogether. He remained perhaps a little more constantly vigilant than
+before--even, for instance, when coming home from church; but it seemed
+now he had rather the alertness of the coastguardsman than the tension
+of the sailor when the decks are cleared for action.
+
+It is impossible to imagine a more ideal scene of domestic felicity than
+that presented by Andrew and his spouse this evening. The room had been
+redecorated and partially refurnished by its new mistress. As she never
+expressed any opinion without quoting a competent authority, her husband
+at once took into respectful consideration her suggestion that
+fashionable people no longer dangled a cut-glass chandelier from their
+ceiling, and always had colored tiles in their hearths. When she further
+suggested that it should be her privilege to effect these and other
+improvements out of the dowry she was bringing him, he passed from
+consideration to consent. So that the fortunate couple were now mounted
+in a setting worthy of their price.
+
+Sitting at a Sheraton table in a semi-evening toilet that had cost her
+forty guineas, writing the names of some twenty of their most eminent
+fellow citizens in the spaces on the invitation cards, Catherine
+impressed her husband favorably--entirely favorably. A very satisfactory
+mate indeed he considered her. One could not imagine her pale eyes
+winking, or a saucy smile on her thin lips, or anything but the plainest
+common sense coming out of them. Yes, she was very satisfactory. It is
+true that he had once, in a burst of confidence, confided to one of his
+friends that she was "Awful skinny," but it is wonderful how far forty
+guineas will go towards modifying that defect. In short, she was--well,
+satisfactory. When one has secured the right adjective, why change it?
+
+Andrew's complacency was completed by the presence of his aunt. He still
+kept her with him as a kind of perpetual testimonial to his solid worth.
+Her mere presence proved he was a kind and hospitable nephew; and on the
+least provocation she would enlarge upon his virtues in a way that was
+most pleasant for a visitor to hear. At other times she kept discreetly
+in the background, just as she had all her life. There was also this
+further advantage: that her legacy was much more satisfactorily employed
+in defraying (at her own desire, of course) some portion of her nephew's
+increasing expenses, than going into the pocket of a worthless landlord
+or hydropathic company.
+
+Andrew was glancing through an evening paper, and his aunt
+conscientiously studying that morning's _Scotsman_. Suddenly she
+exclaimed:
+
+"The Cromarty Highlanders have come to Glasgow!"
+
+Andrew stared at her.
+
+"Not the second battalion?"
+
+"Yes, Frank's regiment."
+
+"But they weren't to leave India for three years yet."
+
+Mrs. Andrew looked over her shoulder.
+
+"Oh, I saw they'd been ordered home some time ago."
+
+"You didn't mention it to me," said Andrew.
+
+She looked a little surprised, for she knew that Frank's was not a name
+mentioned in that house.
+
+"I didn't think you'd be interested."
+
+"I am not in the least," replied her husband.
+
+His eye reproved her coldly. She exchanged with his aunt one of those
+sympathetic glances that pass between indulgent but comprehending women.
+"He is a noble creature, but at moments a little inconsistent," they
+mutually confided. And then she wrote the names of Lord and Lady
+Kilconquar on their card.
+
+And that is how Jean might have been spending her evenings too, had she
+had proper principles.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+The gentlemen entered the drawing-room, bringing a faint aroma of
+Andrew's excellent cigars. The ladies' conversation died away to the
+whispered ends of one or two stories too interesting to be left
+unfinished, and then with a deeper note and on manlier topics the flood
+of talk poured on again.
+
+It had been a most successful dinner--soup excellent, fish first-rate,
+everything good. Of course the wines were unexceptionable, while the
+company recognized itself as a homogeneous specimen of all that was best
+in the city--with the Ramornies of Pettigrew thrown in. Here they were
+now, the whole twenty-two of them from old Lord Kilconquar, most eminent
+of judges, down to that rising young Hector Donaldson, bearing implicit
+testimony to the status of Andrew Walkingshaw. He stood there beside
+Lady Kilconquar's chair gravely discoursing on a well-chosen topic of
+local interest and bending solemnly at intervals to hear her comments.
+You could see at once from the attitude of all who addressed him that he
+was recognized as far from the least distinguished member of the
+company. He had touched the very apex of his career.
+
+"Hush, Andrew," murmured his wife. "Mrs. Rivington is going to sing."
+
+Hector opened the piano, and Mrs. Rivington sat down and touched the
+keyboard. Then she looked around for silence, and it fell completely.
+All the eye-witnesses present are agreed that it was in the moment of
+this pause that the drawing-room door opened, and they heard the butler
+announce the name of Mr. Walkingshaw.
+
+The company turned with one accord and beheld a tall youth, attired in
+tweeds, march confidently into the room. In fact, he seemed so much at
+home, that, though naturally surprised (especially at his unorthodox
+costume), they never dreamt of any but the most obvious and simple
+explanation. They scrutinized him as he advanced, merely wondering what
+cousin--or could it be brother?--he was.
+
+"Surely that's not Frank?" murmured Lord Kilconquar.
+
+It certainly was not Frank; and yet it was some one who looked
+strangely familiar to one or two of the older people present. He made
+straight for Andrew, his hand outstretched.
+
+"Don't you know me?" he asked; and the voice recalled strange memories
+too.
+
+Andrew was not altogether unprepared for some such apparition appearing
+some day, though scarcely on such a horribly ill-timed occasion.
+Somehow, he had always imagined the dread possibility as happening in
+his office. But he remembered exactly how he had decided to confront it.
+He pulled his lip hard down, his eyes contracted dangerously, and then
+he merely shook his head.
+
+"What!" cried the young man, with a touching note of rebuffed affection.
+"Don't you recognize your own son?"
+
+Andrew's brain reeled. His mouth fell open, and his stare lost all
+traces of formidableness.
+
+"Father!" said the stranger in a moving voice.
+
+Incoherently Andrew burst out.
+
+"You--you--you're not my son!"
+
+His disclaimer seemed so evidently sincere that the sense of the company
+was already in sympathy with the victim of this outrageous intrusion,
+when--alas for him!--his aunt chose that fatal moment, of all others,
+to rush out of her chronic background.
+
+"Andrew!" she cried, her cheeks suddenly very pink, her eyes strangely
+excited, her voice trembling with the fervor of her appeal. "He must
+be--oh, he must be! Look--look at the likeness to your father! Oh,
+Andrew, what if it is irregular; surely you wouldn't deny the living
+image of poor Heriot!"
+
+"By Gad! So he is," exclaimed Lord Kilconquar.
+
+A general murmur instinctively confirmed this verdict. They wished to be
+charitable--but what a family resemblance!
+
+"I--I--I tell you it's a put-up job!" stammered their host.
+
+"Who put it up, father?" asked the strange youth plaintively.
+
+Lord Kilconquar shook his head, and again the startled company followed
+his lead.
+
+"Look, Andrew!" cried his aunt, pointing to a tinted photograph of James
+Heriot Walkingshaw at the age of twenty, which hung above the
+mantelpiece. "Oh, just look at the resemblance!"
+
+The young man regarded this work of art with evident emotion.
+
+"My sainted grandfather!" he murmured, though quite loud enough for the
+company to hear.
+
+The poor lady stretched her thin clasped hands beseechingly under
+Andrew's very nose.
+
+"He says it himself--he says it himself!" she pleaded. "For Heriot's
+sake, don't disown him!"
+
+There was a rustle of silk, decisive and ominous. It was caused by the
+skirt of the chaste lady of Pettigrew.
+
+"Good-night," she said.
+
+She only touched her brother's hand with the tips of her fingers, and
+her stony glance gave him his first clear vision of the appalling chasm
+that yawned beneath his feet.
+
+"Maggie!" he besought her, "you don't believe it?"
+
+"Can you not disgrace yourself _quietly_?" she hissed, and a moment
+later was gone.
+
+Andrew realized that he was already in the chasm, hurtling downwards
+with fearful velocity. One after another, his guests followed the
+example of his scandalized sister; and their host was too unmanned to
+hold up his head and carry off the partings with the air of injured
+innocence that alone might have given his reputation another (though a
+feeble) chance.
+
+As they left the hang-dog figure that so lately was a respected Writer
+to the Signet, they said to one another that all was over socially with
+Andrew Walkingshaw. And it had been so public, so dramatic, that they
+feared--of course they hoped against hope, but still they feared that
+the fine old business could not but suffer too. In London one might
+disgrace oneself and yet retain one's clients; but could one here? Well,
+anyhow, that and many other interesting aspects of the case would be
+debated by all Edinburgh to-morrow morning.
+
+Meanwhile, the unhappy victim of fate was left alone with his wife, his
+aunt, and his long-lost offspring. A desperate gesture dismissed Miss
+Walkingshaw; yet, though she trembled beneath his wrathful eye, she
+could not refrain from beseeching him again--
+
+"He must be, Andrew--he must be! Just compare him with the picture."
+
+And then she shrank out of the drawing-room.
+
+"Leave us," he commanded his wife.
+
+Her pale eyes gazed on him defiantly.
+
+"I certainly shall not. I demand a full explanation, Andrew!"
+
+"Go away, will you!"
+
+For answer she sat down firmly upon the sofa.
+
+"Papa, papa, don't be rough with her," expostulated the youth.
+
+Andrew confronted him indignantly.
+
+"That's enough of this nonsense!" he thundered. "What d'ye mean? Who are
+you?"
+
+"Doesn't the voice of nature tell you?" the youth inquired sadly.
+
+"The voice of nature be damned!"
+
+The young man turned to the cold lady on the sofa.
+
+"Stepmother," he asked, "will you protect me?"
+
+She looked at him at first stonily, and then suddenly more kindly. He
+was remarkably good-looking, with such nice bright eyes, and a manner
+difficult to resist.
+
+"I shall certainly see that justice is done you," she replied.
+
+The young man seated himself beside her and took her hand.
+
+"Thank you," he murmured affectionately.
+
+Andrew swore aloud and vigorously, but the pale eyes never flinched.
+
+"Do you mean deliberately to tell me you don't know who this young man
+is?" she demanded.
+
+Put in that form, the question made him hesitate for an instant. The
+hesitation did honor to his sense of veracity, but it finally cost him
+the remains of his character.
+
+"You needn't trouble to answer!" she cried. "You _do_ know who he is.
+Come, you had better tell me all about it at once. I presume you have
+not been _married_ previously?"
+
+The youth spoke quickly.
+
+"You don't think father was so scandalous as not to marry her?"
+
+"Did you?" she demanded.
+
+The luckless Writer fell into the trap. It seemed to him a gleam of
+hope--a chance of saving his precious reputation.
+
+"Er--ye--es," he stammered.
+
+"You were married?" she cried.
+
+There was a dreadful pause, and then abruptly she demanded, "What became
+of her?"
+
+A dark frown answered this pertinent inquiry. She turned to the young
+man.
+
+"Do you know?"
+
+He seemed to have some difficulty in controlling his voice as he
+answered--
+
+"She lives in London."
+
+"Lives!" shrieked the lady. "Andrew--you are a bigamist! And I--I am
+not lawfully--"
+
+She leapt up and gave him one terrible look; and before he could speak
+she had swept wrathfully from the room.
+
+And then the most surprising thing occurred. Instead of continuing his
+filial overtures, the young man sank into the corner of the sofa and
+burst into peal upon peal of boyish laughter.
+
+"Oh, my dear Andrew!" he gasped. "Oh, I can't help it--you a bigamist!
+Poor respectable old blighter! I say, what a joke! Oh, Andrew, Andrew,
+my bonny, bonny boy!"
+
+In silence through it all, Andrew gazed darkly down at the late Heriot
+Walkingshaw.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+"When you have finished," said Andrew grimly.
+
+He looked a nasty customer to tackle now, but the laugher on the sofa
+merely subsided into a friendly smile.
+
+"Shake hands, Andrew," he cried, jumping up.
+
+Andrew placed his hands behind his back, and his glowering eyes answered
+this overture.
+
+"What!" said Heriot, "won't you even shake hands?"
+
+Andrew still stared darkly.
+
+"You'd rather have it war than peace?"
+
+"I had rather conclude this conversation as soon as possible."
+
+Heriot looked at him for a moment, and then shook his head with a smile
+compounded of sorrow and humor.
+
+"You're a hopeless case," said he. "Well, your blood be on your own
+head!"
+
+Andrew's lip grew longer and longer.
+
+"I admit you've made a fool of me," he said, "if that's any
+satisfaction. But you'll make nothing out of me; not a shilling, not a
+halfpenny. Do you hear?"
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"Practically; but I may just as well point out, to let you see where you
+stand, that as you have now done your worst, there's no use trying on
+blackmail or anything of that kind. You have been so very clever, you've
+thrown away any hold you might fancy you had. Do you quite understand
+that?"
+
+Heriot began to smile again, and Andrew's face grew grimmer.
+
+"You can prove _nothing_. You may say you're my father if you like--"
+
+"God forbid!" Heriot interrupted devoutly. "I've had enough of fathering
+a bogle. Claim any sire you like from Lucifer downwards, but don't put
+the blame on me. I won't be disgraced with you again; not at any price."
+
+For a few moments Andrew seemed to be in travail of a fitting repartee.
+When it appeared it possessed all the practical characteristics of its
+parent.
+
+"In that case," he retorted, "you had better clear out of my house as
+quick as you can."
+
+Heriot regarded him with extreme composure.
+
+"Do you actually imagine you are going to get off as easy as this?" he
+inquired, "Man Andrew, I haven't been senior partner in Walkingshaw &
+Gilliflower for nothing. You're just a rat in a trap. That's precisely
+your position at this moment."
+
+"I'd be glad to hear you explain how you make that out," said Andrew.
+
+Heriot smiled humorously as he produced a bulky pocket-book. Out of this
+he selected one of many letters it contained.
+
+"Do you know the writing?" he asked.
+
+Andrew turned a thought more solemn, but his only answer was a wary
+sidelong glance.
+
+"Don't be afraid to say. A hundred people can swear to it. There's no
+secret to be kept."
+
+"It is my late father's hand," said Andrew gravely.
+
+His guest burst into a shout of laughter, and then with an effort pulled
+himself together again.
+
+"Read it," he said, "and by the way, I may just as well tell you I've
+plenty more like it, so there's no point in putting it in the fire."
+
+Andrew took it with gingerly suspicion, which changed into a different
+emotion as he read:
+
+     "DEAR HARRIS,--I write to let you know that I have reached this
+     city in safety and am slowly recovering from the mental anguish I
+     have undergone. As regards my wretched and ungrateful son Andrew, I
+     still disagree with you. No, Harris, I cannot bring myself to
+     expose the infamy of my eldest boy to a thunder-struck world; I
+     simply cannot do it. His immorality and dishonesty temporarily
+     unhinged my mind. I am exiled through his perfidy, but I forgive
+     him, Harris; I forgive him. Hoping to see you again someday,--
+
+                              "Your unhappy friend,
+
+                                   "J. HERIOT WALKINGSHAW"
+
+The address was an hotel in Monte Video, and the date about two years
+before.
+
+"What--what's all this rigmarole?" gasped Andrew. "It's sheer nonsense
+from beginning to end."
+
+His unwelcome guest was again shaken with boyish laughter.
+
+"Prove it!" he cried. "Prove it's nonsense! Eh? How'll you manage that?"
+
+Andrew's face grew darker and darker.
+
+"Who does 'Harris' profess to be, I'd like to know?"
+
+"Grandson of Mrs. Harris!" laughed Heriot.
+
+"What Mrs. Harris?"
+
+"Sarah Gamp's pal."
+
+"You are drunk," said Andrew.
+
+Heriot regarded him with portentous solemnity.
+
+"Mr. Harris was the kind gentleman who befriended my grandfather on his
+voyage to South America. He received afterwards many letters from your
+papa, Andrew; and very, very thoughtfully handed them to me. They prove,
+my boy, that you treated your parent outrageously. They prove that you
+must have been a shocking bad hat yourself. Some of them prove that your
+kind and forgiving parent is still alive at this moment; others prove
+that he expired under heart-rending circumstances six months ago; and I
+propose to use whichever alternative seems best--that's to say,
+whichever will flatten you out most effectively. And that's who Harris
+is."
+
+For some minutes Andrew studied the letter in silence. He felt like a
+heavy-weight boxer in the grip of a professor of Ju-Jitsu. What use was
+a lifelong apprenticeship to common sense, respectability, and the law
+of Scotland, when it came to wrestling with a juggler of this kind? he
+asked himself bitterly. One ought to have led a life of crime! The
+longer he looked at the preposterous epistle, the more diabolical did
+it appear. At last he spoke--
+
+"This is an impudent forgery."
+
+"There are some hundreds of specimens of your father's hand to compare
+it with," said Heriot calmly; "I am perfectly willing to let any expert
+judge whether it's genuine or not."
+
+The heavy-weight tried another wriggle.
+
+"This is the letter of a lunatic. I have a certificate to prove it. I
+can call Dr. Downie to prove it."
+
+"You needn't go to so much trouble. You'll find that plot against my
+grandfather's liberty fully described in some of the letters. The point
+that will be put to you by the cross-examining Counsel is, if you
+thought him off his chump, why did you only pretend to put him in an
+asylum?"
+
+"I did put him," snapped Andrew.
+
+Heriot rose and rang the bell.
+
+"What's that for?" asked Andrew; but he was only answered by a smile.
+
+"Show up the other two gentlemen," said Heriot.
+
+The discreet butler glanced at his master, but he was too dumbfounded to
+give any indication of his pleasure one way or the other.
+
+A minute later, Frank and Lucas entered. They nodded coolly, but Andrew
+only stared.
+
+"Now, Lucas, dear boy," said Heriot genially, "tell this old cockalorum
+who you saw off on a steamer for South America."
+
+Lucas smiled grimly at his brother-in-law to be.
+
+"Heriot Walkingshaw," he replied.
+
+"Swear to it?" smiled Heriot.
+
+Lucas nodded, his blue eyes glittering on Andrew all the time; and there
+followed a pause in the conversation.
+
+"What do you propose to do?" asked Andrew.
+
+"Make you disgorge, old cock," said Heriot.
+
+"Disgorge what?"
+
+"Every single penny you inherited!"
+
+Andrew made a last convulsive struggle.
+
+"I'll not do it!"
+
+"In that case, the following interesting facts will immediately be made
+public: that you lied when you said your father was in an asylum, and
+lied again when you said he was dead; that he suffered indescribable
+agonies in consequence of your ill-treatment; that he is either alive at
+this moment or died a death that will bring tears to the eyes of all
+Edinburgh; and that, in any case, you helped yourself to his fortune
+with precisely as much justification as a burglar who opens a safe. The
+matter will then be placed in the hands of Thompson, Gilray, & Young."
+
+This choice of a vindictive rival firm struck Andrew as the most
+diabolical artifice of all. His eyes blinked and his cheeks twitched;
+and when he spoke his voice reminded them painfully of the professional
+mendicant of the pavement.
+
+"Would you ruin me?"
+
+"Ruin be hanged! Your wife has two thousand pounds a year, and you've
+got the lion's share of the business. But you've got to shell out every
+brass farthing you bagged from your poor dear father, and settle it in
+equal shares on Frank and Jean."
+
+Frank made a quick movement of gratitude and protest.
+
+"Shut up," said Heriot jovially. "You mind your own business, Frank.
+This is my shout."
+
+"My dear Frank--" his brother began solemnly.
+
+"Andrew!" thundered Heriot, "if you make any miserable whining appeal to
+your brother, I'll tell Lucas to kick you. Are you ready, Lucas?"
+
+"Quite," said the artist.
+
+A few minutes later the present head of Walkingshaw & Gilliflower had
+appended his signature to the following document (the unaided
+composition of the late senior partner in the aforesaid firm):
+
+    "I, Andrew Walkingshaw, having the fear of this world and the next
+    before my eyes, do hereby promise and swear that upon the morning
+    following the above date of the month and year, at the hour of 10
+    a.m., I shall formally, legally, and irrevocably settle in equal
+    shares upon my brother and sister, Frank and Jean Walkingshaw, the
+    whole estate, real and personal, of my revered father, except such
+    portion of it inherited and enjoyed by my sisters Margaret
+    Walkingshaw or Ramornie and Gertrude Walkingshaw or Donaldson, and
+    my aunt Mary Walkingshaw. This I do for the following consideration:
+    that through their kindness and charity my despicable,
+    unsportsmanlike, and criminal conduct may never be revealed. I
+    humbly and sorrowfully confess that I had my estimable father
+    aforesaid certified as insane when I knew his brain to be
+    considerably sounder than my own; that I did this in order to diddle
+    him and my younger brother and sister out of their money; that
+    instead of putting him under restraint, I exiled him furth of Great
+    Britain and Ireland, so that he thereby suffered discomforts and
+    torments for whose virulence I take his word; that I announced his
+    death knowing him to be alive; and that I then in a criminal and
+    shameful manner appropriated his estate to my own use. May all
+    wicked and foolish men be laid by the heels as I have been, and may
+    their relatives be as forgiving as mine! This paper I sign
+    cheerfully and penitently."
+
+It was a pale and flabby-cheeked Writer to the Signet who laid down his
+pen after reading and signing this lucid document. He stalked solemnly
+to the door, and then with a chastened air addressed them--
+
+"May Heaven forgive you."
+
+Thus in a blaze of appropriate piety the star of Andrew Walkingshaw set.
+There is small probability of his ever becoming an Example again. At
+present it is his arduous task to live down, by the austerity of his
+demeanor and the judicious expenditure of his wife's income, the
+suspicions connected with the apparition at his dinner party, and his
+subsequent act of inexplicable magnanimity in divesting himself of his
+fortune and handing it to his brother and sister. It is with the
+greatest regret that the editor of these few simple facts finds himself
+unable to cap with a suitable reward the career of well-principled
+respectability so unfortunately interrupted; but his obligations to the
+illogical truth are peremptory.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"My dear old boys and jolly good sportsmen, and all the rest of it,"
+said Heriot jovially, "don't mention it--don't mention it. What can you
+do to show your dashed gratitude? There's only one thing; one blooming
+favor I ask of you: send me to a good public school!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+The devious lane was filled with sunshine; the studio being lighted only
+from the north was filled instead with happiness. The same two sat
+there; but to-day she was no longer so demurely clad and all the aches
+and weariness were gone, and he no longer fumed.
+
+"Is this better than scrubbing the floor of a ward?" he smiled.
+
+"Buying a trousseau is harder work than you realize, Lucas," she
+answered, with that touch of reproof by which all good women remind man
+gently but daily that it is her part to suffer, his to misunderstand.
+
+There followed a space of happy silence, and then she said--
+
+"Didn't I tell you that everything would come right if we waited?"
+
+"Yes," he admitted, "that was one of your good guesses."
+
+She raised her delicate brows.
+
+"Aren't you happy _now_?"
+
+"Good heavens! I should think so."
+
+"Then be more grateful, dear," she smiled.
+
+Rapturously he confessed he had erred, and was even sufficiently in love
+to think he perceived how.
+
+"I positively must go now," she said in a little, and, despite his
+protestations, rose.
+
+"Shall we walk?" he asked.
+
+"Haven't you a cab call?"
+
+"But you haven't been out of a hansom all day, and it's only ten
+minutes--"
+
+"Oh, bother the expense!" she cried. "I believe in being sensibly
+economical, but not in being _close_."
+
+Again he cheerfully accepted the gentle rebuke as the reproof his
+inconsistency deserved.
+
+And so off they whirled in a hansom.
+
+At that very same hour, far, far to the northward, the winter sun was
+struggling in gleams through the pine-tops and falling in patches on the
+moss. For an instant one patch lit the hat of straw and gentle face of
+Ellen Berstoun; and though it was but a small patch, it also lit a large
+tweed cap a few inches higher up. Beneath the cap a voice murmured--
+
+"Ellen!"
+
+No more letters came to her now from India; and no longer she walked
+alone.
+
+These incidents occurred nearly three years ago. Since then Mr. and Mrs.
+Frank Walkingshaw and Mr. and Mrs. Lucas Vernon have grown into
+comparatively old married couples.
+
+As for the genial and sagacious author of their happiness, the latest
+report to hand informs the present editor that the name of James Heriot
+Walkingshaw stands first in the batting averages of a select preparatory
+school.
+
+                              THE END
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise,
+every effort has been made to remain true to the author's intent.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Prodigal Father, by J. Storer Clouston
+
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