initial commit of ebook 26238HEAD main

author: Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> 2025-10-15 02:21:51 -0700
committer: Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> 2025-10-15 02:21:51 -0700
commit: 1bbb066e05f3ab8ffc61fbdb89c7de2fa46d8cba (patch)
tree: a385fe38e1b3cbb4156267b2f28ca57f0f398c86
9 files changed, 23292 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/26238-8.txt b/26238-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e5a99ed
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26238-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,6911 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Vixen, Volume III., by M. E. Braddon
+
+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: Vixen, Volume III.
+
+Author: M. E. Braddon
+
+Release Date: August 9, 2008 [EBook #26238]
+[Last updated: July 2, 2013]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIXEN, VOLUME III. ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Daniel Fromont.  HTML version by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+COLLECTION
+
+OF
+
+BRITISH AUTHORS
+
+
+TAUCHNITZ EDITION.
+
+
+VOL. 1811.
+
+VIXEN BY M. E. BRADDON
+
+IN THREE VOLUMES.
+
+VOL. III.
+
+
+
+
+VIXEN
+
+
+A NOVEL
+
+
+BY
+
+M.  E. BRADDON,
+
+AUTHOR OF "LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET," ETC. ETC.
+
+
+_COPYRIGHT EDITION_.
+
+
+IN THREE VOLUMES.
+
+VOL. III.
+
+
+LEIPZIG
+
+BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ
+
+1879.
+
+
+_The Right of Translation is reserved_.
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+OF VOLUME III.
+
+
+CHAPTER I. Going into Exile
+
+CHAPTER II. Chiefly Financial
+
+CHAPTER III. "With weary Days thou shalt be clothed and fed"
+
+CHAPTER IV. Love and AEsthetics
+
+CHAPTER V. Crumpled Rose-Leaves
+
+CHAPTER VI. A Fool's Paradise
+
+CHAPTER VII. "It might have been"
+
+CHAPTER VIII. Wedding Bells
+
+CHAPTER IX. The nearest Way to Norway
+
+CHAPTER X. "All the Rivers run into the Sea"
+
+CHAPTER XI. The Bluebeard Chamber
+
+Epilogue
+
+
+
+VIXEN.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+Going into Exile.
+
+After a long sleepless night of tossing to and fro, Vixen rose with the
+first stir of life in the old house, and made herself ready to face the
+bleak hard world. Her meditations of the night had brought no new light
+to her mind. It was very clear to her that she must go away--as far as
+possible--from her old home. Her banishment was necessary for
+everybody's sake. For the sake of Rorie, who must behave like a man of
+honour, and keep his engagement with Lady Mabel, and shut his old
+playfellow out of his heart. For the sake of Mrs. Winstanley, who could
+never be happy while there was discord in her home; and last of all,
+for Violet herself, who felt that joy and peace had fled from the Abbey
+House for ever, and that it would be better to be anywhere, in the
+coldest strangest region of this wide earth, verily friendless and
+alone among strange faces, than here among friends who were but friends
+in name, and among scenes that were haunted with the ghosts of dead
+joys.
+
+She went round the gardens and shrubberies in the early morning,
+looking sadly at everything, as if she were bidding the trees and
+flowers a long farewell. The rhododendron thickets were shining with
+dew, the grassy tracks in that wilderness of verdure were wet and cold
+under Vixen's feet. She wandered in and out among the groups of wild
+growing shrubs, rising one above another to the height of forest trees,
+and then she went out by the old five-barred gate which Titmouse used
+to jump so merrily, and rambled in the plantation till the sun was
+high, and the pines began to breathe forth their incense as the day-god
+warmed them into life.
+
+It was half-past eight. Nine was the hour for breakfast, a meal at
+which, during the Squire's time, the fragile Pamela had rarely
+appeared, but which, under the present _régime_, she generally graced
+with her presence. Captain Winstanley was an early riser, and was not
+sparing in his contempt for sluggish habits.
+
+Vixen had made up her mind never again to sit at meat with her
+stepfather; so she went straight to her own den, and told Phoebe to
+bring her a cup of tea.
+
+"I don't want anything else," she said wearily when the girl suggested
+a more substantial breakfast; "I should like to see mamma presently. Do
+you know if she has gone down?"
+
+"No, miss. Mrs. Winstanley is not very well this morning. Pauline has
+taken her up a cup of tea."
+
+Vixen sat idly by the open window, sipping her tea, and caressing
+Argus's big head with a listless hand, waiting for the next stroke of
+fate. She was sorry for her mother, but had no wish to see her. What
+could they say to each other--they, whose thoughts and feelings were so
+wide apart? Presently Phoebe came in with a little three-cornered note,
+written in pencil.
+
+"Pauline asked me to give you this from your ma, miss."
+
+The note was brief, written in short gasps, with dashes between them.
+
+
+"I feel too crushed and ill to see you--I have told Conrad what you
+wish--he is all goodness--he will tell you what we have decided--try to
+be worthier of his kindness--poor misguided child--he will see you in
+his study, directly after breakfast--pray control your unhappy temper."
+
+
+"His study, indeed!" ejaculated Vixen, tearing up the little note and
+scattering its perfumed fragments on the breeze; "my father's room,
+which he has usurped. I think I hate him just a little worse in that
+room than anywhere else--though that would seem hardly possible, when I
+hate him so cordially everywhere."
+
+She went to the looking-glass, and surveyed herself proudly as she
+smoothed her shining hair, resolved that he should see no indication of
+trouble or contrition in her face. She was very pale, but her tears of
+last night had left no traces. There was a steadiness in her look that
+befitted an encounter with an enemy. A message came from the Captain,
+while she was standing before her glass, tying a crimson ribbon under
+the collar of her white morning-dress.
+
+Would she please to go to Captain Winstanley in the study? She went
+without an instant's delay, walked quietly into the room, and stood
+before him silently as he sat at his desk writing.
+
+"Good-morning, Miss Tempest," he said, looking up at her with his
+blandest air; "sit down, if you please. I want to have a chat with you."
+
+Vixen seated herself in her father's large crimson morocco chair. She
+was looking round the room absently, dreamily, quite disregarding the
+Captain. The dear old room was full of sadly sweet associations. For
+the moment she forgot the existence of her foe. His cold level tones
+recalled her thoughts from the lamented past to the bitter present.
+
+"Your mother informs me that you wish to leave the Abbey House," he
+began; "and she has empowered me to arrange a suitable home for you
+elsewhere. I entirely concur in your opinion that your absence from
+Hampshire for the next year or so will be advantageous to yourself and
+others. You and Mr. Vawdrey have contrived to get yourselves
+unpleasantly talked about in the neighbourhood. Any further scandal may
+possibly be prevented by your departure."
+
+"It is not on that account I wish to leave home," said Vixen proudly.
+"I am not afraid of scandal. If the people hereabouts are so wicked
+that they cannot see me riding by the side of an old friend for two or
+three days running without thinking evil of him and me, I am sorry for
+them, but I certainly should not regulate my life to please them. The
+reason I wish to leave the Abbey House is that I am miserable here, and
+have been ever since you entered it as its master. We may as well deal
+frankly with each other in this matter. You confessed last night that
+you hated me. I acknowledge to-day that I have hated you ever since I
+first saw you. It was an instinct."
+
+"We need not discuss that," answered the Captain calmly. He had let
+passion master him last night, but he had himself well in hand to-day.
+She might be as provoking as she pleased, but she should not provoke
+him to betray himself as he had done last night. He detested himself
+for that weak outbreak of passion.
+
+"Have you arranged with my mother for my leaving home?" inquired Vixen.
+
+"Yes, it is all settled."
+
+"Then I'll write at once to Miss McCroke. I know she will leave the
+people she is with to travel with me."
+
+"Miss McCroke has nothing to do with the question. You roaming about
+the world with a superannuated governess would be too preposterous. I
+am going to take you to Jersey by this evening's boat. I have an aunt
+living there who has a fine old manor house, and who will be happy to
+take charge of you. She is a maiden lady, a woman of superior
+cultivation, who devotes herself wholly to intellectual pursuits. Her
+refining influence will be valuable to you. The island is lovely, the
+climate delicious. You could not be better off than you will be at Les
+Tourelles."
+
+"I am not going to Jersey, and I am not going to your intellectual
+aunt," said Vixen resolutely.
+
+"I beg your pardon, you are going, and immediately. Your mother and I
+have settled the matter between us. You have expressed a wish to leave
+home, and you will be pleased to go where we think proper. You had
+better tell Phoebe to pack your trunks. We shall leave here at ten
+o'clock in the evening. The boat starts from Southampton at midnight."
+
+Vixen felt herself conquered. She had stated her wish, and it was
+granted; not in the mode and manner she had desired; but perhaps she
+ought to be grateful for release from a home that had become loathsome
+to her, and not take objection to details in the scheme of her exile.
+To go away, quite away, and immediately, was the grand point. To fly
+before she saw Rorie again.
+
+"Heaven knows how weak I might be if he were to talk to me again as he
+talked last night!" she said to herself. "I might not be able to bear
+it a second time. Oh Rorie, if you knew what it cost me to counsel you
+wisely, to bid you do your duty; when the vision of a happy life with
+you was smiling at me all the time, when the warm grasp of your dear
+hand made my heart thrill with joy, what a heroine you would think me!
+And yet nobody will ever give me credit for heroism; and I shall be
+remembered only as a self-willed young woman, who was troublesome to
+her relations, and had to be sent away from home."
+
+She was thinking this while she sat in her father's chair, deliberating
+upon the Captain's last speech. She decided presently to yield, and
+obey her mother and stepfather. After all, what did it matter where she
+went? That scheme of being happy in Sweden with Miss McCroke was but an
+idle fancy. In the depths of her inner consciousness Violet Tempest
+knew that she could be happy nowhere away from Rorie and the Forest.
+What did it matter, then, whether she went to Jersey or Kamtchatka, the
+sandy desert of Gobi or the Mountains of the Moon? In either case exile
+meant moral death, the complete renunciation of all that had been sweet
+and precious in her uneventful young life--the shadowy beech-groves;
+the wandering streams; the heathery upland plains; the deep ferny
+hollows, where the footsteps of humanity were almost unknown; the
+cluster of tall trees on the hill tops, where the herons came sailing
+home from their flight across Southampton Water; her childhood's
+companion; her horse; her old servants. Banishment meant a long
+farewell to all these.
+
+"I suppose I may take my dog with me?" she asked, after a long pause,
+during which she had wavered between submission and revolt, "and my
+maid?"
+
+"I see no objection to your taking your dog; though I doubt whether my
+aunt will care to have a dog of that size prowling about her house. He
+can have a kennel somewhere, I daresay. You must learn to do without a
+maid. Feminine helplessness is going out of fashion; and one would
+expect an Amazon like you to be independent of lady's-maids and
+milliners."
+
+"Why don't you state the case in plain English?" cried Vixen
+scornfully. "If I took Phoebe with me she would cost money. There would
+be her wages and maintenance to be provided. If I leave her behind, you
+can dismiss her. You have a fancy for dismissing old servants."
+
+"Had you not better see to the packing of your trunks?" asked Captain
+Winstanley, ignoring this shaft.
+
+"What is to become of my horse?"
+
+"I think you must resign yourself to leave him to fate and me," replied
+the Captain coolly; "my aunt may submit to the infliction of your dog,
+but that she should tolerate a young lady's roaming about the island on
+a thoroughbred horse would be rather too much to expect from her
+old-fashioned notions of propriety."
+
+"Besides, even Arion would cost something to keep," retorted Vixen,
+"and strict economy is the rule of your life. If you sell him--and, of
+course, you will do so--please let Lord Mallow have the refusal of him.
+I think he would buy him and treat him kindly, for my sake."
+
+"Wouldn't you rather Mr. Vawdrey had him?"
+
+"Yes, if I were free to give him away; but I suppose you would deny my
+right of property even in the horse my father gave me."
+
+"Well, as the horse was not specified in your father's will, and as all
+his horses and carriages were left to your mother, I think there cannot
+be any doubt that Arion is my wife's property."
+
+"Why not say your property? Why give unnatural prominence to a cipher?
+Do you think I hold my poor mother to blame for any wrong that is done
+to me, or to others, in this house? No, Captain Winstanley, I have no
+resentment against my mother. She is a blameless nullity, dressed in
+the latest fashion."
+
+"Go and pack your boxes!" cried the Captain angrily. "Do you want to
+raise the devil that was raised last night? Do you want another
+conflagration? It might be a worse one this time. I have had a night of
+fever and unrest."
+
+"Am I to blame for that?'
+
+"Yes--you beautiful fury. It was your image kept me awake. I shall
+sleep sounder when you are out of this house."
+
+"I shall be ready to start at ten o'clock," said Vixen, in a
+business-like tone which curiously contrasted this sudden gust of
+passion on the part of her foe, and humiliated him to the dust. He
+loathed himself for having let her see her power to hurt him.
+
+She left him, and went straight upstairs to her room, and gave Phoebe
+directions about the packing of her portmanteaux, with no more outward
+semblance of emotion than she might have shown had she been starting on
+a round of pleasant visits under the happiest circumstances. The
+faithful Phoebe began to cry when she heard that Miss Tempest was going
+away for a long time, and that she was not to go with her; and poor
+Vixen had to console her maid instead of brooding upon her own griefs.
+
+"Never mind, Phoebe," she said; "it is as hard for me to lose you as it
+is for you to lose me. I shall never forget what a devoted little thing
+you have been, and all the muddy habits you have brushed without a
+murmur. A few years hence I shall be my own mistress, and have plenty
+of money, and then, wherever I may be, you shall come to me. If you are
+married you shall be my housekeeper, and your husband shall be my
+butler, and your children shall run wild about the place, and be made
+as much of as the litter of young foxes Bates reared in a corner of the
+stable-yard, when Mr. Vawdrey was at Eton."
+
+"Oh, miss, I don't want no husband nor no children, I only want you for
+my missus. And when you come of age, will you live here, miss?"
+
+"No, Phoebe. The Abbey House will belong to mamma all her life. Poor
+mamma! may it be long before the dear old house comes to me. But when I
+am of age, and my own mistress I shall find a place somewhere in the
+Forest, you may be sure of that, Phoebe."
+
+Phoebe dried her honest tears, and made haste with the packing,
+believing that Miss Tempest was leaving home for her own pleasure, and
+that she, Phoebe, was the only victim of adverse fate.
+
+The day wore on quickly, though it was laden with sorrow. Vixen had a
+great deal to do in her den; papers to look over, old letters,
+pen-and-ink sketches, and scribblings of all kinds to destroy, books
+and photographs to pack. There were certain things she could not leave
+behind her. Then there was a melancholy hour to spend in the stable,
+feeding, caressing, and weeping over Arion, who snorted his tenderest
+snorts, and licked her hands with abject devotion--almost as if he knew
+they were going to part, Vixen thought.
+
+Last of all came the parting with her mother. Vixen had postponed this
+with an aching dread of a scene, in which she might perchance lose her
+temper, and be betrayed into bitter utterances that she would
+afterwards repent with useless tears. She had spoken the truth to her
+stepfather when she told him that she held her mother blameless; yet
+the fact that she had but the smallest share in that mother's heart was
+cruelly patent to her.
+
+It was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon when Pauline came to
+Violet's room with a message from Mrs. Winstanley. She had been very
+ill all the morning, Pauline informed Miss Tempest, suffering severely
+from nervous headache, and obliged to lie in a darkened room. Even now
+she was barely equal to seeing anyone.
+
+"Then she had better not see me," said Vixen icily; "I can write her a
+little note to say good-bye. Perhaps it would be just as well. Tell
+mamma that I will write, Pauline."
+
+Pauline departed with this message, and returned in five minutes with a
+distressed visage.
+
+"Oh, miss!" she exclaimed, "your message quite upset your poor mamma.
+She said, 'How could she?' and began to get almost hysterical. And
+those hysterical fits end in such fearful headaches."
+
+"I will come at once," said Vixen.
+
+Mrs. Winstanley was lying on a sofa near an open window, the Spanish
+blinds lowered to exclude the afternoon sunshine, the perfume of the
+gardens floating in upon the soft summer air. A tiny teapot and cup and
+saucer on a Japanese tray showed that the invalid had been luxuriating
+in her favourite stimulant. There were vases of flowers about the room,
+and an all-pervading perfume and coolness--a charm half sensuous, half
+aesthetic.
+
+"Violet, how could you send me such a message?" remonstrated the
+invalid fretfully.
+
+"Dear mamma, I did not want to trouble you. I know how you shrink from
+all painful things; and you and I could hardly part without pain, as we
+are parting to-day. Would it not have been better to avoid any
+farewell?"
+
+"If you had any natural affection, you would never have suggested such
+a thing."
+
+"Then perhaps I have never had any natural affection," answered Vixen,
+with subdued bitterness; "or only so small a stock that it ran out
+early in my life, and left me cold and hard and unloving. I am sorry we
+are parting like this, mamma. I am still more sorry that you could not
+spare me a little of the regard which you have bestowed so lavishly
+upon a stranger."
+
+"Violet, how can you?" sobbed her mother. "To accuse me of withholding
+my affection from you, when I have taken such pains with you from your
+very cradle! I am sure your frocks, from the day you were short-coated,
+were my constant care; and when you grew a big, lanky girl, who would
+have looked odious in commonplace clothes, it was my delight to invent
+picturesque and becoming costumes for you. I have spent hours poring
+over books of prints, studying Vandyke and Sir Peter Lely, and I have
+let you wear some of my most valuable lace; and as for indulgence of
+your whims! Pray when have I ever thwarted you in anything?"
+
+"Forgive me, mamma!" cried Vixen penitently. She divined dimly--even in
+the midst of that flood of bitter feeling in which her young soul was
+overwhelmed--that Mrs. Winstanley had been a good mother, according to
+her lights. The tree had borne such fruit as was natural to its kind.
+"Pray forgive me! You have been good and kind and indulgent, and we
+should have gone on happily together to the end of the chapter, if fate
+had been kinder."
+
+"It's no use your talking of fate in that way, Violet," retorted her
+mother captiously. "I know you mean Conrad."
+
+"Perhaps I do, mamma; but don't let us talk of him any more. We should
+never agree about him. You and he can be quite happy when I am gone.
+Poor, dear, trusting, innocent-minded mamma!" cried Vixen, kneeling by
+her mother's chair, and putting her arms round her ever so tenderly.
+"May your path of life be smooth and strewn with flowers when I am
+gone. If Captain Winstanley does not always treat you kindly, he will
+be a greater scoundrel than I think him. But he has always been kind to
+you, has he not, mamma? You are not hiding any sorrow of yours from
+me?' asked Vixen, fixing her great brown eyes on her mother's face with
+earnest inquiry. She had assumed the maternal part. She seemed an
+anxious mother questioning her daughter.
+
+"Kind to me," echoed Mrs. Winstanley. "He has been all goodness. We
+have never had a difference of opinion since we were married."
+
+"No, mamma, because you always defer to his opinion."
+
+"Is not that my duty, when I know how clever and far-seeing he is?"
+
+"Frankly, dear mother, are you as happy with this new husband of
+yours--so wise and far-seeing, and determined to have his own way in
+everything--as you were with my dear, indulgent, easy-tempered father?"
+
+Pamela Winstanley burst into a passion of tears.
+
+"How can you be so cruel?" she exclaimed. "Who can give back the past,
+or the freshness and brightness of one's youth? Of course I was happier
+with your dear father than I can ever be again. It is not in nature
+that it should be otherwise. How could you be so heartless as to ask me
+such a question?"
+
+She dried her tears slowly, and was not easily comforted. It seemed as
+if that speech of Violet's had touched a spring that opened a fountain
+of grief.
+
+"This means that mamma is not happy with her second husband, in spite
+of her praises of him," thought Vixen.
+
+She remained kneeling by her mother's side comforting her as best she
+could, until Mrs. Winstanley had recovered from the wound her
+daughter's heedless words had inflicted, and then Violet began to say
+good-bye.
+
+"You will write to me sometimes, won't you, mamma, and tell me how the
+dear old place is going on, and about the old people who die--dear
+familiar white heads that I shall never see again--and the young people
+who get married, and the babies that are born? You will write often,
+won't you, mamma?"
+
+"Yes, dear, as often as my strength will allow."
+
+"You might even get Pauline to write to me sometimes, to tell me how
+you are and what you are doing; that would be better than nothing."
+
+"Pauline shall write when I am not equal to holding a pen," sighed Mrs.
+Winstanley.
+
+"And, dear mamma, if you can prevent it, don't let any more of the old
+servants be sent away. If they drop off one by one home will seem like
+a strange place at last. Remember how they loved my dear father, how
+attached and faithful they have been to us. They are like our own flesh
+and blood."
+
+"I should never willingly part with servants who know my ways, Violet.
+But as to Bates's dismissal--there are some things I had rather not
+discuss with you--I am sure that Conrad acted for the best, and from
+the highest motives."
+
+"Do you know anything about this place to which I am going, mamma?"
+asked Vixen, letting her mother's last speech pass without comment; "or
+the lady who is to be my duenna?"
+
+"Your future has been fully discussed between Conrad and me, Violet. He
+tells me that the old Jersey manor house--Les Tourelles it is
+called--is a delightful place, one of the oldest seats in Jersey, and
+Miss Skipwith, to whom it belongs, is a well-informed conscientious old
+lady, very religious, I believe, so you will have to guard against your
+sad habit of speaking lightly about sacred things, my dear Violet."
+
+"Do you intend me to live there for ever, mamma?"
+
+"For ever! What a foolish question. In six years you will be of age,
+and your own mistress."
+
+"Six years--six years in a Jersey manor house--with a pious old lady.
+Don't you think that would seem very much like for ever, mamma?" asked
+Vixen gravely.
+
+"My dear Violet, neither Conrad nor I want to banish you from your
+natural home. We only want you to learn wisdom. When Mr. Vawdrey is
+married, and when you have learnt to think more kindly of my dear
+husband----"
+
+"That last change will never happen to me, mamma. I should have to die
+and be born again first, and, even then, I think my dislike of Captain
+Winstanley is so strong that purgatorial fires would hardly burn it
+out. No, mamma, we had better say good-bye without any forecast of the
+future. Let us forget all that is sad in our parting, and think we are
+only going to part for a little while."
+
+Many a time in after days did Violet Tempest remember those last
+serious words of hers. The rest of her conversation with her mother was
+about trifles, the trunks and bonnet-boxes she was to carry with
+her--the dresses she was to wear in her exile.
+
+"Of course in a retired old house in Jersey, with an elderly maiden
+lady, you will not see much society," said Mrs. Winstanley; "but Miss
+Skipwith must know people--no doubt the best people in the island--and
+I should not like you to be shabby. Are you really positive that you
+have dresses enough to carry you over next winter?"
+
+This last question was asked with deepest solemnity.
+
+"More than enough, mamma."
+
+"And do you think your last winter's jacket will do?"
+
+"Excellently."
+
+"I'm very glad of that," said her mother, with a sigh of relief, "for I
+have an awful bill of Theodore's hanging over my head. I have been
+paying her sums on account ever since your poor papa's death; and you
+know that is never quite satisfactory. All that one has paid hardly
+seems to make any difference in the amount due at the end."
+
+"Don't worry yourself about your bill, mamma. Let it stand over till I
+come of age, and then I can help you to pay it."
+
+"You are very generous, dear; but Theodore would not wait so long, even
+for me. Be sure you take plenty of wraps for the steamer. Summer nights
+are often chilly."
+
+Vixen thought of last night, and the long straight ride through the
+pine wood, the soft scented air, the young moon shining down at her,
+and Rorie by her side. Ah, when should she ever know such a summer
+night as that again?
+
+"Sit down in this low chair by me, and have a cup of tea, dear," said
+Mrs. Winstanley, growing more affectionate as the hour of parting drew
+nearer. "Let us have kettledrum together for the last time, till you
+come back to us."
+
+"For the last time, mamma!" echoed Violet sadly.
+
+She could not imagine any possible phase of circumstances that would
+favour her return. Could she come back to see Roderick Vawdrey happy
+with his wife? Assuredly not. Could she school herself to endure life
+under the roof that sheltered Conrad Winstanley? A thousand times no.
+Coming home was something to be dreamt about when she lay asleep in a
+distant land; but it was a dream that never could be realised. She must
+make herself a new life, somehow, among new people. The old life died
+to-day.
+
+She sat and sipped her tea, and listened while her mother talked
+cheerfully of the future, and even pretended to agree; but her heart
+was heavy as lead.
+
+An hour was dawdled away thus, and then, when Mrs. Winstanley began to
+think about dressing for dinner, Vixen went off to finish her packing.
+She excused herself from going down to dinner on the plea or having so
+much to do.
+
+"You could send me up something, please, mamma," she said. "I am sure
+you and Captain Winstanley will dine more pleasantly without me. I
+shall see you for a minute in the hall, before I start."
+
+"You must do as you please, dear," replied her mother. "I hardly feel
+equal to going down to dinner myself; but it would not be fair to let
+Conrad eat a second meal in solitude, especially when we are to be
+parted for two or three days and he is going across the sea. I shall
+not have a minute's rest to-night, thinking of you both."
+
+"Sleep happily, dear mother, and leave us to Providence. The voyage
+cannot be perilous in such weather as this," said Vixen, with assumed
+cheerfulness.
+
+Two hours later the carriage was at the door, and Violet Tempest was
+ready to start. Her trunks were on the roof of the brougham, her
+dressing-bag, and travelling-desk, and wraps were stowed away inside;
+Argus was by her side, his collar provided with a leather strap, by
+which she could hold him when necessary. Captain Winstanley was smoking
+a cigar on the porch.
+
+Mrs. Winstanley came weeping out of the drawing-room, and hugged her
+daughter silently. Violet returned the embrace, but said not a word
+till just at the last.
+
+"Dear mother," she whispered earnestly, "never be unhappy about me. Let
+me bear the blame of all that has gone amiss between us."
+
+"You had better be quick, Miss Tempest, if you want to be in time for
+the boat," said the Captain from the porch.
+
+"I am quite ready," answered Vixen calmly.
+
+Phoebe was at the carriage-door, tearful, and in everybody's way, but
+pretending to help. Argus was sent up to the box, where he sat beside
+the coachman with much gravity of demeanour, having first assured
+himself that his mistress was inside the carriage. Mrs. Winstanley
+stood in the porch, kissing her hand; and so the strong big horses bore
+the carriage away, through the dark shrubberies, between banks of
+shadowy foliage, out into the forest-road, which was full of ghosts at
+this late hour, and would have struck terror to the hearts of any
+horses unaccustomed to its sylvan mysteries.
+
+They drove through Lyndhurst, where the twinkling little lights in the
+shop-windows were being extinguished by envious shutters, and where the
+shop-keepers paused in their work of extinction to stare amazedly at
+the passing carriage; not that a carriage was a strange apparition in
+Lyndhurst, but because the inhabitants had so little to do except stare.
+
+Anon they came to Bolton's Bench, beneath a cluster of pine-trees on a
+hilly bit of common, and then the long straight road to Southampton lay
+before them in the faint moonshine, with boggy levels, black
+furze-bushes, and a background of wood on either side. Violet sat
+looking steadily out of the window, watching every bit of the road. How
+could she tell when she would see it again--or if ever, save in sad
+regretful dreams?
+
+They mounted the hill, from whose crest Vixen took one last backwards
+look at the wide wild land that lay behind them--a look of ineffable
+love and longing. And then she threw herself back in the carriage, and
+gave herself up to gloomy thought. There was nothing more that she
+cared to see. They had entered the tame dull world of civilisation.
+They drove through the village of Eling, where lights burned dimly here
+and there in upper windows; they crossed the slow meandering river at
+Redbridge. Already the low line of lights in Southampton city began to
+shine faintly in the distance. Violet shut her eyes and let the
+landscape go by. Suburban villas, suburban gardens on a straight road
+beside a broad river with very little water in it. There was nothing
+here to regret.
+
+It was past eleven when they drove under the old bar, and through the
+high street of Southampton. The town seemed strange to Vixen at this
+unusual hour. The church clocks were striking the quarter. Down by the
+docks everything had a gray and misty look, sky and water
+indistinguishable. There lay the Jersey boat, snorting and puffing,
+amidst the dim grayness. Captain Winstanley conducted his charge to the
+ladies' cabin, with no more words than were positively necessary. They
+had not spoken once during the drive from the Abbey House to
+Southampton.
+
+"I think you had better stay down here till the vessel has started, at
+any rate," said the Captain, "there will be so much bustle and
+confusion on deck. I'll take care of your dog."
+
+"Thanks," answered Vixen meekly. "Yes, I'll stay here--you need not
+trouble yourself about me."
+
+"Shall I send you something? A cup of tea, the wing of a chicken, a
+little wine and water?"
+
+"No, thanks, I don't care about anything."
+
+The Captain withdrew after this to look after the luggage, and to
+secure his own berth. The stewardess received Violet as if she had
+known her all her life, showed her the couch allotted to her, and to
+secure which the Captain had telegraphed that morning from Lyndhurst.
+
+"It was lucky your good gentleman took the precaution to telegraph,
+mum," said the cordial stewardess; "the boats are always crowded at
+this time of the year, and the _Fanny_ is such a favourite."
+
+The cabin was wide and lofty and airy, quite an exceptional thing in
+ladies' cabins; but presently there came a troop of stout matrons with
+their olive-branches, all cross and sleepy, and dazed at finding
+themselves in a strange place at an unearthly hour. There was the usual
+sprinkling of babies, and most of the babies cried. One baby was
+afflicted with unmistakable whooping cough, and was a source of terror
+to the mothers of all the other babies. There was a general opening of
+hand-bags and distribution of buns, biscuits, and sweeties for the
+comfort and solace of this small fry. Milk was imbibed noisily out of
+mysterious bottles, some of them provided with gutta-percha tubes,
+which made the process of refreshment look like laying on gas. Vixen
+turned her back upon the turmoil, and listened to the sad sea waves
+plashing lazily against the side of the boat.
+
+She wondered what Rorie was doing at this midnight hour? Did he know
+yet that she was gone--vanished out of his life for ever? No; he could
+hardly have heard of her departure yet awhile, swiftly as all tidings
+travelled in that rustic world of the Forest. Had he made up his mind
+to keep faith with Lady Mabel? Had he forgiven Vixen for refusing to
+abet him in treachery against his affianced?
+
+"Poor Rorie," sighed the girl; "I think we might have been happy
+together."
+
+And then she remembered the days of old, when Mr. Vawdrey was free, and
+when it had never dawned upon his slow intelligence that his old
+playfellow, Violet Tempest, was the one woman in all this wide world
+who had the power to make his life happy.
+
+"I think he thought lightly of me because of all our foolishness when
+he was a boy," mused Vixen. "I seemed to him less than other
+women--because of those old sweet memories--instead of more."
+
+It was a dreary voyage for Violet Tempest--a kind of maritime
+purgatory. The monotonous thud of the engine, the tramping of feet
+overhead, the creaking and groaning of the vessel, the squalling
+babies, the fussy mothers, the dreadful people who could not travel
+from Southampton to Jersey on a calm summer night without exhibiting
+all the horrors of seasickness. Vixen thought of the sufferings of poor
+black human creatures in the middle passage, of the ghastly terrors of
+a mutiny, of a ship on fire, of the Ancient Mariner on his slimy sea,
+when
+
+  The very deep did rot; O Christ,
+  That ever this should be;
+  Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
+  Upon the slimy sea!
+
+
+She wondered in her weary soul whether these horrors, which literature
+had made familiar to her, were much worse than the smart white and gold
+cabin of the good ship _Fanny_, filled to overflowing with the contents
+of half-a-dozen nurseries.
+
+Towards daybreak there came a lull. The crossest of the babies had
+exhausted its capacity for making its fellow-creatures miserable. The
+sea-sick mothers and nurses had left off groaning, and starting
+convulsively from their pillows, with wild shrieks for the stewardess,
+and had sunk into troubled slumbers. Vixen turned her back upon the
+dreadful scene--dimly lighted by flickering oil-lamps, like those that
+burn before saintly shrines in an old French cathedral--and shut her
+eyes and tried to lose herself in the tangled wilderness of sleep. But
+to-night that blessed refuge of the unhappy was closed against her. The
+calm angel of sleep would have nothing to do with a soul so troubled.
+She could only lie staring at the port-hole, which stared back at her
+like a giant's dark angry eye, and waiting for morning.
+
+Morning came at last, with the skirmishing toilets of the children,
+fearful struggles for brushes and combs, towel fights, perpetual
+clamour for missing pieces of soap, a great deal of talk about strings
+and buttons, and a chorus of crying babies. Then stole through the
+stuffy atmosphere savoury odours of breakfast, the fumes of coffee,
+fried bacon, grilled fish. Sloppy looking cups of tea were administered
+to the sufferers of last night. The yellow sunshine filled the cabin.
+Vixen made a hasty toilet, and hurried up to the deck. Here all was
+glorious. A vast world of sunlit water. No sign yet of rock-bound
+island above the white-crested waves. The steamer might have been in
+the midst of the Atlantic. Captain Winstanley was on the bridge,
+smoking his morning cigar. He gave Violet a cool nod, which she
+returned as coolly. She found a quiet corner where she could sit and
+watch the waves slowly rising and falling, the white foam-crests slowly
+gathering, the light spray dashing against the side of the boat, the
+cataract of white roaring water leaping from the swift paddle-wheel and
+melting into a long track of foam. By-and-by they came to Guernsey,
+which looked grim and military, and not particularly inviting, even in
+the morning sunlight. That picturesque island hides her beauties from
+those who only behold her from the sea. Here there was an exodus of
+passengers, and of luggage, and an invasion of natives with baskets of
+fruit. Vixen bought some grapes and peaches of a female native in a
+cap, whose patois was the funniest perversion of French and English
+imaginable. And then a bell rang clamorously, and there was a general
+stampede, and the gangway was pulled up and the vessel was steaming
+gaily towards Jersey; while Vixen sat eating grapes and looking
+dreamily skyward, and wondering whether her mother was sleeping
+peacefully under the dear old Abbey House roof, undisturbed by any pang
+of remorse for having parted with an only child so lightly.
+
+An hour or so and Jersey was in sight, all rocky peaks and
+promontories. Anon the steamer swept round a sudden curve, and lo,
+Vixen beheld a bristling range of fortifications, a rather untidy
+harbour, and the usual accompaniments of a landing-place, the midsummer
+sun shining vividly upon the all pervading whiteness.
+
+"Is this the bay that some people have compared to Naples?" Violet
+asked her conductor, with a contemptuous curl of her mobile lip, as she
+and Captain Winstanley took their seats in a roomy old fly, upon which
+the luggage was being piled in the usual mountainous and
+insecure-looking style.
+
+"You have not seen it yet from the Neapolitan point of view," said the
+Captain. "This quay is not the prettiest bit of Jersey."
+
+"I am glad of that, very glad," answered Vixen acidly; "for if it were,
+the Jersey notion of the beautiful would be my idea of ugliness. Oh
+what an utterly too horrid street!" she cried, as the fly drove through
+the squalid approach to the town, past dirty gutter-bred children, and
+women with babies, who looked to the last degree Irish, and the dead
+high wall of the fortifications. "Does your aunt live hereabouts, _par
+exemple_, Captain Winstanley?"
+
+"My aunt lives six good miles from here, Miss Tempest, in one of the
+loveliest spots in the island, amidst scenery that is almost as fine as
+the Pyrenees."
+
+"I have heard people say that of anything respectable in the shape of a
+hill," answered Vixen, with a dubious air.
+
+She was in a humour to take objection to everything, and had a flippant
+air curiously at variance with the dull aching of her heart. She was
+determined to take the situation lightly. Not for worlds would she have
+let Captain Winstanley see her wounds, or guess how deep they were. She
+set her face steadily towards the hills in which her place of exile was
+hidden, and bore herself bravely. Conrad Winstanley gave her many a
+furtive glance as he sat opposite her in the fly, while they drove
+slowly up the steep green country lanes, leaving the white town in the
+valley below them.
+
+"The place is not so bad, after all," said Vixen, looking back at the
+conglomeration of white walls and slate roofs, of docks and shipping,
+and barracks, on the edge of a world of blue water, "not nearly so
+odious as it looked when we landed. But it is a little disappointing at
+best, like all places that people praise ridiculously. I had pictured
+Jersey as a tropical island, with cactuses and Cape jasmine growing in
+the hedges, orchards of peaches and apricots, and melons running wild."
+
+"To my mind the island is a pocket edition of Devonshire with a dash of
+Brittany," answered the Captain. "There's a fig-tree for you!" he
+cried, pointing to a great spreading mass of five-fingered leaves
+lolloping over a pink plastered garden-wall--an old untidy tree that
+had swallowed up the whole extent of a cottager's garden. "You don't
+see anything like that in the Forest."
+
+"No," answered Vixen, tightening her lips; "we have only oaks and
+beeches that have been growing since the Heptarchy."
+
+And now they entered a long lane, where the interlaced tree-tops made
+an arcade of foliage--a lane whose beauty even Vixen could not gainsay.
+Ah, there were the Hampshire ferns on the steep green banks! She gave a
+little choking sob at sight of them, as if they had been living things.
+Hart's-tongue, and lady-fern, and the whole family of osmundas. Yes;
+they were all there. It was like home--with a difference.
+
+Here and there they passed a modern villa, in its park-like grounds,
+and the Captain, who evidently wished to be pleasant, tried to expound
+to Violet the conditions of Jersey leases, and the difficulties which
+attend the purchase of land or tenements in that feudal settlement. But
+Vixen did not even endeavour to understand him. She listened with an
+air of polite vacancy which was not encouraging.
+
+They passed various humbler homesteads, painted a lively pink, or a
+refreshing lavender, with gardens where the fuchsias were trees covered
+with crimson bloom, and where gigantic hydrangeas bloomed in palest
+pink and brightest azure in wildest abundance. Here Vixen beheld for
+the first time those preposterous cabbages from whose hyper-natural
+growth the islanders seem to derive a loftier pride than from any other
+productions of the island, not excepting its grapes and its lobsters.
+
+"I don't suppose you ever saw cabbages growing six feet high before,"
+said the Captain.
+
+"No," answered Vixen; "they are too preposterous to be met with in a
+civilised country. Poor Charles the Second! I don't wonder that he was
+wild and riotous when he came to be king."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because he had spent several months of exile among his loyal subjects
+in Jersey. A man who had been buried alive in such a fragmentary bit of
+the world must have required some compensation in after life."
+
+They had mounted a long hill which seemed the pinnacle of the island,
+and from whose fertile summit the view was full of beauty--a green
+undulating garden-world, ringed with yellow sands and bright blue sea;
+and now they began to descend gently by a winding lane where again the
+topmost elm-branches were interwoven, and where the glowing June day
+was softened to a tender twilight. A curve in the lane brought them
+suddenly to an old gateway, with a crumbling stone bench in a nook
+beside it--a bench where the wayfarer used to sit and wait for alms,
+when the site of Les Tourelles was occupied by a monastery.
+
+The old manor house rose up behind the dilapidated wall--a goodly old
+house as to size and form--overlooking a noble sweep of hillside and
+valley; a house with a gallery on the roof for purposes of observation,
+but with as dreary and abandoned a look about its blank curtainless
+windows as if mansion and estate had been in Chancery for the last
+half-century.
+
+"A fine old place, is it not?" asked the Captain, while a cracked bell
+was jingling in remote distance, amidst the drowsy summer stillness,
+without eliciting so much as the bark of a house-dog.
+
+"It looks very big," Violet answered dubiously, "and very empty."
+
+"My aunt has no relatives residing with her."
+
+"If she had started in life with a large family of brothers and
+sisters, I should think they would all be dead by this time," said the
+girl, with a stifled yawn that was half a sigh.
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"They would have died of the stillness and solitude and all-pervading
+desolation of Les Tourelles."
+
+"Strange houses are apt to look desolate."
+
+"Yes. Particularly when the windows have neither blinds nor curtains,
+and the walls have not been painted for a century."
+
+After this conversation flagged. The jingling bell was once more set
+going in the unknown distance; Vixen sat looking sleepily at the arched
+roof of foliage chequered with blue sky. Argus lolled against the
+carriage-door with his tongue out.
+
+They waited five minutes or so, languidly expectant. Vixen began to
+wonder whether the gates would ever open--whether there were really any
+living human creatures in that blank dead-looking house--whether they
+would not have to give up all idea of entering, and drive back to the
+harbour, and return to Hampshire by the way they had come.
+
+While she sat idly wondering thus, with the sleepy buzz of summer
+insects and melodious twittering of birds soothing her senses like a
+lullaby, the old gate groaned upon its rusty hinges, and a middle-aged
+woman in a black gown and a white cap appeared--a female who recognised
+Captain Winstanley with a curtsey, and came out to receive the smaller
+packages from the flyman.
+
+"Antony will take the portmanteaux," she said; "the boat must have come
+in earlier than usual. We did not expect you so soon."
+
+"This is one of Miss Skipwith's servants," thought Vixen; "rather a
+vinegary personage. I hope the other maids are nicer."
+
+The person spoken of as Antony now appeared, and began to hale about
+Violet's portmanteaux. He was a middle-aged man, with a bald head and a
+melancholy aspect. His raiment was shabby; his costume something
+between that of a lawyer's clerk and an agricultural labourer. Argus
+saluted this individual with a suppressed growl.
+
+"Sh!" cried the female vindictively, flapping her apron at the dog,
+"whose dog is this, sir? He doesn't belong to you, surely?"
+
+"He belongs to Miss Tempest. You must find a corner for him somewhere
+in the outbuildings, Hannah," said the Captain. "The dog is harmless
+enough, and friendly enough when he is used to people."
+
+"That won't be much good if he bites us before he gets used to us, and
+we die of hydrophobia in the meantime," retorted Hannah; "I believe he
+has taken a dislike to Antony already."
+
+"Argus won't bite anyone," said Vixen, laying her hand upon the dog's
+collar, "I'll answer for his good conduct. Please try and find him a
+nice snug nest somewhere--if I mustn't have him in the house."
+
+"In the house!" cried Hannah. "Miss Skipwith would faint at the mention
+of such a thing. I don't know how she'll ever put up with a huge beast
+like that anywhere about the place. He must be kept as much out of her
+sight as possible."
+
+"I'm sorry Argus isn't welcome," said Vixen proudly.
+
+She was thinking that her own welcome at Les Tourelles could hardly be
+more cordial than that accorded to Argus. She had left home because
+nobody wanted her there. How could she expect that anyone wanted her
+here, where she was a stranger, preceded, perhaps, by the reputation of
+her vices? The woman in the rusty mourning-gown, the man in the shabby
+raiment and clod-hopper boots, gave her no smile of greeting. Over this
+new home of hers there hung an unspeakable melancholy. Her heart sank
+as she crossed the threshold.
+
+Oh, what a neglected, poverty-stricken air the garden had, after the
+gardens Violet Tempest had been accustomed to look upon! Ragged trees,
+rank grass, empty flower-beds, weeds in abundance. A narrow paved
+colonnade ran along one side of the house. They went by this paved way
+to a dingy little door--not the hall-door, that was never opened--and
+entered the house by a lobby, which opened into a small parlour, dark
+and shabby, with one window looking into a court-yard. There were a
+good many books upon the green baize table-cover; pious books mostly,
+Vixen saw, with a strange revulsion of feeling; as if that were the
+culmination of her misery. There was an old-fashioned work-table, with
+a faded red silk well, beside the open window. A spectacle-case on the
+work-table, and an armchair before it, indicated that the room had been
+lately occupied. It was altogether one of the shabbiest rooms Vixen had
+ever seen--the furniture belonging to the most odious period of
+cabinet-making, the carpet unutterably dingy, the walls mildewed and
+mouldy, the sole decorations some pale engravings of naval battles,
+which might be the victories or defeats of any maritime hero, from
+Drake to Nelson.
+
+"Come and see the house," said the Captain, reading the disgust in his
+stepdaughter's pale face.
+
+He opened a door leading into the hall, a large and lofty apartment,
+with a fine old staircase ascending to a square gallery. The heavy oak
+balusters had been painted white, so had the panelling in the hall.
+Time had converted both to a dusky gray. Some rusty odds and ends of
+armour, and a few dingy family portraits decorated the walls; but of
+furniture there was not a vestige.
+
+Opening out of the hall there was a large long room with four windows
+looking into a small wilderness that had once been a garden, and
+commanding a fine view of land and sea. This the Captain called the
+drawing-room. It was sparsely furnished with a spindle-legged table,
+half-a-dozen armchairs covered with faded tapestry, an antique
+walnut-wood cabinet, another of ebony, a small oasis of carpet in the
+middle of the bare oak floor.
+
+"This and the parlour you have seen are all the sitting-rooms my aunt
+occupies," said Captain Winstanley; "the rest of the rooms on this
+floor are empty, or only used for storehouses. It is a fine old house.
+I believe the finest in the island."
+
+"Is there a history hanging to it?" asked Vixen, looking drearily round
+the spacious desolate chamber. "Has it been used as a prison, or a
+madhouse, or what? I never saw a house that filled me with such
+nameless horrors."
+
+"You are fanciful," said the Captain. "The house has no story except
+the common history of fallen fortunes. It has been in the Skipwith
+family ever since it was built. They were Leicestershire people, and
+came to Jersey after the civil war--came here to be near their prince
+in his exile--settled here and built Les Tourelles. I believe they
+expected Charles would do something handsome for them when he came into
+his own, but he didn't do anything. Sir John Skipwith stayed in the
+island and became a large landowner, and died at an advanced age--there
+is nothing to kill people here, you see--and the Skipwiths have been
+Jersey people ever since. They were once the richest family in the
+island. They are now one of the poorest. When I say they, I mean my
+aunt. She is the last of her race. The Skipwiths have crystallised into
+one maiden lady, my mother's only sister."
+
+"Then your mother was a Skipwith?" asked Violet.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And she was born and brought up here?"
+
+"Yes. She never left Jersey till my father married her. He was here
+with his regiment when they met at the governor's ball. Oh, here is my
+aunt," said the Captain, as a rustling of silk sounded in the empty
+hall.
+
+Vixen drew herself up stiffly, as if preparing to meet a foe. She had
+made up her mind to detest Miss Skipwith.
+
+The lady of the manor entered. She shook hands with her nephew, and
+presented him with a pale and shrivelled cheek, which he respectfully
+saluted.
+
+She was an elderly and faded person, very tall and painfully thin, but
+aristocratic to the highest degree. There was the indication of race in
+her aquiline nose, high narrow brow and neatly cut chin, her tapering
+hand and small slender foot. She was dressed in black silk, rustier and
+older than any silk Vixen had ever seen before: not even excepting Mrs.
+Scobel's black silk dresses, when they had been degraded from their
+original rank to the scrubbery of early services and daily wear. Her
+thin gray hair was shaded by a black lace cap, decorated with bugles
+and black weedy grasses. She wore black mittens, and jet jewellery, and
+was altogether as deeply sable as if she had been in mourning for the
+whole of the Skipwith race.
+
+She received Miss Tempest with a formal politeness which was not
+encouraging.
+
+"I hope you will be able to make yourself happy here," she said; "and
+that you have resources within yourself that will suffice for the
+employment of your time and thoughts. I receive no company, and I never
+go out. The class of people who now occupy the island are a class with
+which I should not care to associate, and which, I daresay, would not
+appreciate me. I have my own resources, and my life is fully employed.
+My only complaint is that the days are not long enough. A quiet
+existence like mine offers vast opportunities for culture and
+self-improvement. I hope you will take advantage of them, Miss Tempest."
+
+Poor Violet faltered something vaguely civil, looking sorely bewildered
+all the time. Miss Skipwith's speech sounded so like the address of a
+schoolmistress that Vixen began to think she had been trapped unawares
+in a school, as people are sometimes trapped in a madhouse.
+
+"I don't think Miss Tempest is given much to study," said the Captain
+graciously, as if he and Violet were on the friendliest terms; "but she
+is very fond of the country, and I am sure the scenery of Jersey will
+delight her. By-the-way, we ventured to bring her big dog. He will be a
+companion and protector for her in her walks. I have asked Doddery to
+find him a kennel somewhere among your capacious outbuildings."
+
+"He must not come into the house," said Miss Skipwith grimly; "I
+couldn't have a dog inside my doors. I have a Persian that has been my
+attached companion for the last ten years. What would that dear
+creature's feelings be if he saw himself exposed to the attacks of a
+savage dog?"
+
+"My dog is not savage, to Persians or anyone else," cried Vixen,
+wondering what inauspicious star had led the footsteps of an oriental
+wanderer to so dreary a refuge as Les Tourelles.
+
+"You would like to see your bedroom, perhaps?" suggested Miss Skipwith,
+and on Violet's assenting, she was handed over to Hannah Doddery, the
+woman who had opened the gate.
+
+Hannah led the way up the broad old staircase, all bare and carpetless,
+and opened one of the doors in the gallery. The room into which she
+ushered Violet was large and airy, with windows commanding the fair
+garden-like island, and the wide blue sea. But there was the same bare,
+poverty-stricken look in this room as in every other part of the manor
+house. The bed was a tall melancholy four-poster, with scantiest
+draperies of faded drab damask. Save for one little islet of threadbare
+Brussels beside the bed, the room was carpetless. There was an ancient
+wainscot wardrobe with brass handles. There was a modern deal
+dressing-table skimpily draped with muslin, and surmounted by the
+smallest of looking-glasses. There were a couple of chairs and a
+three-cornered washhand-stand. There was neither sofa nor
+writing-table. There was not an ornament on the high wooden
+mantelshelf, or a picture on the panelled walls. Vixen shivered as she
+surveyed the big barren room.
+
+"I think you will find everything comfortable," said Mrs. Doddery, with
+a formal air, which seemed to say, "and whether you do or do not
+matters nothing to me."
+
+"Thank you, yes, I daresay it is all right," Vixen answered absently,
+standing at one of the windows, gazing out over the green hills and
+valleys to the fair summer sea, and wondering whether she would be able
+to take comfort from the fertile beauty of the island.
+
+"The bed has been well aired," continued Mrs. Doddery, "and I can
+answer for the cleanliness of everything."
+
+"Thanks! Will you kindly send one of the maids to help me unpack my
+portmanteau?"
+
+"I can assist you," Mrs. Doddery answered. "We have no maid-servant. My
+husband and I are able to do all that Miss Skipwith requires. She is a
+lady who gives so little trouble."
+
+"Do you mean to say there are no other servants in this great house--no
+housemaids, no cooks?"
+
+"I have cooked for Miss Skipwith for the last thirty years. The house
+is large, but there are very few rooms in occupation."
+
+"I ought to have brought my maid," cried Vixen. "It will be quite
+dreadful. I don't want much waiting upon; but still, I'm afraid I shall
+give some trouble until I learn to do everything for myself. Just as if
+I were cast on a desert island," she said to herself in conclusion; and
+then she thought of Helen Rolleston, the petted beauty in Charles
+Reade's "Foul Play," cast with her faithful lover on an unknown island
+of the fair southern sea. But in this island of Jersey there was no
+faithful lover to give romance and interest to the situation. There was
+nothing but dull dreary reality.
+
+"I daresay I shall be able to do all you require, without feeling it
+any extra trouble, unless you are very helpless," said Mrs. Doddery,
+who was on her knees unstrapping one of the portmanteaux.
+
+"I am not helpless," replied Vixen, "though I daresay I have been
+waited on much more than was good for me."
+
+And then she knelt down before the other portmanteau, and undid the
+buckles of the thick leather straps, in which operation she broke more
+than one of her nails, and wounded her rosy finger-tips.
+
+"Oh dear, what a useless creature I am," she thought; "and why do
+people strap portmanteaux so tightly? Never mind, after a month's
+residence at Les Tourelles I shall be a Spartan."
+
+"Would you like me to unpack your trunks for you?" inquired Mrs.
+Doddery, with an accent which sounded slightly ironical.
+
+"Oh no, thanks, I can get on very well now," answered Vixen quickly;
+whereupon the housekeeper opened the drawers and cupboards in the big
+wainscot wardrobe, and left Miss Tempest to her own devices.
+
+The shelves and drawers were neatly lined with white paper, and strewed
+with dried lavender. This was luxury which Vixen had not expected. She
+laid her pretty dresses on the shelves, smiling scornfully as she
+looked at them. Of what use could pretty dresses be in a desert island?
+And here were her riding-habit and her collection of whips--useless
+lumber where there was no hope of a horse. She was obliged to put her
+books in the wardrobe, as there was no other place for them. Her desk
+and workbox she was fain to place on the floor, for the small
+dressing-table would accommodate no more than her dressing-case,
+devotional books, brushes and combs, pomatum-pots, and pinboxes.
+
+"Oh dear," she sighed. "I have a great deal too much property for a
+desert island. I wonder whether in some odd corner of Les Tourelles I
+could find such a thing as a spare table?"
+
+When she had finished her unpacking she went down to the hall. Not
+seeing anyone about, and desiring rather to avoid Captain Winstanley
+and his aunt than to rejoin them, she wandered out of the hall into one
+of the many passages of the old manor house, and began a voyage of
+discovery on her own account.
+
+"If they ask me what I have been doing I can say I lost myself," she
+thought.
+
+She found the most curious rooms--or rather rooms that had once been
+stately and handsome, now applied to the most curious purposes--a
+dining-hall with carved stone chimney-piece and painted ceiling, used
+as a storehouse for apples; another fine apartment in which a heap of
+potatoes reposed snugly in a corner, packed in straw; there was a
+spacious kitchen with a fire-place as large as a moderate-sized room--a
+kitchen that had been abandoned altogether to spiders, beetles, rats,
+and mice. A whole army of four-footed vermin scampered off as Vixen
+crossed the threshold. She could see them scuttling and scurrying along
+by the wall, with a whisking of slender tails as they vanished into
+their holes. The beetles were disporting themselves on the desolate
+hearth, the spiders had woven draperies for the dim dirty windows. The
+rustling leaves of a fig-tree, that had grown close to this side of the
+house, flapped against the window-panes with a noise of exceeding
+ghostliness.
+
+From the kitchen Vixen wandered to the out-houses, and found Argus
+howling dismally in a grass-grown court-yard, evidently believing
+himself abandoned by the world. His rapture at beholding his mistress
+was boundless.
+
+"You darling, I would give the world to let you loose," cried Vixen,
+after she had been nearly knocked down by the dog's affectionate
+greeting; "but I mustn't just yet. I'll come by-and-by and take you for
+a walk. Yes, dear old boy, we'll have a long ramble together, just as
+we used to do at home."
+
+Home, now she had left it, seemed so sweet a word that her lips
+trembled a little as she pronounced it.
+
+Everything without the house was as dreary as it was within. Poverty
+had set its mark on all things, like a blight. Decay was visible
+everywhere--in the wood-work, in the stone-work, in hinges and handles,
+thresholds and lintels, ceilings and plastered walls. It would have
+cost a thousand pounds to put the manor house in decent habitable
+order. To have restored it to its original dignity and comeliness would
+have cost at least five thousand. Miss Skipwith could afford to spend
+nothing upon the house she lived in; indeed she could barely afford the
+necessaries of life. So for the last thirty years Les Tourelles had
+been gradually decaying, until the good old house had arrived at a
+stage in which decay could hardly go farther without lapsing into
+destruction.
+
+A door opened out of the court-yard into the weedy garden. This was not
+without a kind of beauty that had survived long neglect. The spreading
+fig-trees, the bushes of bright red fuchsia, and the unpruned roses
+made a fertile wilderness of flowers and foliage. There was a terrace
+in front of the drawing-room windows, and from this a flight of
+crumbling moss-grown stone steps led down to the garden, which was on
+the slope of the hill, and lay considerably below the level of the
+house.
+
+While Vixen was perambulating the garden, a bell rang in a cupola on
+the roof; and as this sounded like the summons to a meal, she felt that
+politeness, if not appetite, demanded her return to the house.
+
+"Three o'clock," she said, looking at her watch. "What a late hour for
+luncheon!"
+
+She made her way back to the small side-door at which she had entered
+with Captain Winstanley, and went into the parlour, where she found the
+Captain and his aunt. The table was laid, but they had not seated
+themselves.
+
+"I hope I have not kept you waiting," Vixen said apologetically.
+
+"My aunt has been waiting five minutes or so; but I'm sure she will
+forgive you, as you don't yet know the ways of the house," replied the
+Captain amiably.
+
+"We have early habits at Les Tourelles, Miss Tempest," said the lady of
+the manor: "we breakfast at half-past seven and dine at three; that
+arrangement gives me a long morning for study. At six we drink tea,
+and, if you care for supper, it can be served for you on a tray at
+half-past nine. The house is shut, and all lamps put out, at ten."
+
+"As regularly as on board ship," said the Captain. "I know the customs
+of the manor of old."
+
+"You have never favoured me with a long visit, Conrad," remarked Miss
+Skipwith reproachfully.
+
+"My life has been too busy for making long visits anywhere, my dear
+aunt."
+
+They took their places at the small square table, and Miss Skipwith
+said grace. Antony Doddery was in attendance, clad in rusty black, and
+looking as like a butler as a man who cleaned windows, scrubbed floors,
+and hewed wood could be fairly expected to look. He removed the cover
+of a modest dish of fish with a grand air, and performed all the
+services of the table with as much dignity as if he had never been
+anything less than a butler. He poured out a glass of ale for the
+Captain and a glass of water for his mistress. Miss Skipwith seemed
+relieved when Violet said she preferred water to ale, and did not
+particularly care about wine.
+
+"I used to drink wine at home very often, just because it was put in my
+glass, but I like water quite as well," said Vixen.
+
+After the fish there came a small joint of lamb, and a couple of dishes
+of vegetables; then a small custard pudding, and some cheese cut up in
+very minute pieces in a glass dish, some raw garden-stuff which Doddery
+called salad, and three of last year's pears in an old Derby
+dessert-dish. The dinner could hardly have been smaller, but it was
+eminently genteel.
+
+The conversation was entirely between Captain Winstanley and his aunt.
+Vixen sat and listened wonderingly, save at odd times, when her
+thoughts strayed back to the old life which she had done with for ever.
+
+"You still continue your literary labours, I suppose, aunt," said the
+Captain.
+
+"They are the chief object of my existence. When I abandon them I shall
+have done with life," replied Miss Skipwith gravely.
+
+"But you have not yet published your book."
+
+"No; I hope when I do that even you will hear of it."
+
+"I have no doubt it will make a sensation."
+
+"If it does not I have lived and laboured in vain. But my book may make
+a sensation, and yet fall far short of the result which I have toiled
+and hoped for."
+
+"And that is----"
+
+"The establishment of a universal religion."
+
+"That is a large idea!"
+
+"Would a small idea be worth the devotion of a life? For thirty years I
+have devoted myself to this one scheme. I have striven to focus all the
+creeds of mankind in one brilliant centre--eliminating all that is base
+and superstitious in each several religion, crystallising all that is
+good and true. The Buddhist, the Brahmin, the Mohamedan, the
+Sun-worshipper, the Romanist, the Calvinist, the Lutheran, the
+Wesleyan, the Swedenborgian--each and all will find the best and
+noblest characteristics of his faith resolved and concentred in my
+universal religion. Here all creeds will meet. Gentler and wiser than
+the theology of Buddha; more humanitarian than the laws of Brahma; more
+temperate than the Moslem's code of morality; with a wider grasp of
+power than the Romanist's authoritative Church; severely self-denying
+as Calvin's ascetic rule; simple and pious as Wesley's scheme of man's
+redemption; spiritual as Swedenborg's vast idea of heaven;--my faith
+will open its arms wide enough to embrace all. There need be no more
+dissent. The mighty circle of my free church will enclose all creeds
+and all divisions of man, and spread from the northern hemisphere to
+the southern seas. Heathenism shall perish before it. The limited view
+of Christianity which missionaries have hitherto offered to the heathen
+may fail; but my universal church will open its doors to all the
+world--and, mark my words, Conrad, all the world will enter in. I may
+not live to see the day. My span of life has not long to run--but that
+day will come."
+
+"No doubt," replied Captain Winstanley gravely. "There is a
+slovenliness, so to speak, about the present arrangement of things, and
+a great deal of useless expense; every small town with its half-a-dozen
+churches and chapels of different denominations--Episcopalians,
+Wesleyans, Baptists, Roman Catholics, Primitive Methodists. Now on your
+plan one large building would do for all, like the town hall, or the
+general post office. There would be a wonderful economy."
+
+"I fear you contemplate the question from an entirely temporal point of
+view," said Miss Skipwith, flattered but yet reproachful. "It is its
+spiritual aspect that is grandest."
+
+"Naturally. But a man of the world is apt to consider the
+practicability of a scheme. And yours seems to me eminently practical.
+If you can only get the Mohamedans and the Brahmins to come in! The
+Roman Catholics might of course be easily won, though it would involve
+doing away with the Pope. There was a prophecy, by-the-way, that after
+the ninth Pius there would be only eleven more Popes. No doubt that
+prophecy pointed at your universal religion. But I fear you may have
+some difficulty about the Buddhists. I fancy they are rather a bigoted
+sect."
+
+"The greatest bigots have but to be convinced," said Miss Skipwith.
+"St. Paul was a bigot."
+
+"True. Is your book nearly finished?"
+
+"No. There are still some years of labour before me. I am now working
+at the Swedenborgian portion, striving to demonstrate how that great
+man's scheme of religion, though commonly supposed to be a new and
+original emanation of one mind, is in reality a reproduction of
+spiritual views involved in other and older religions. The Buddhists
+were Swedenborgians without knowing it, just as Swedenborg
+unconsciously was a Buddhist."
+
+"I begin to understand. The process which you are engaged in is a kind
+of spiritual chemistry, in which you resolve each particular faith into
+its primary elements: with a view to prove that those elements are
+actually the same in all creeds; and that the differences which
+heretofore have kept mankind apart are mere divergencies of detail."
+
+"That, crudely and imperfectly stated, is my aim," replied Miss
+Skipwith graciously.
+
+This kind of conversation continued all through dinner. Miss Skipwith
+talked of Buddha, and Confucius, and Mahomet, and Zuinglius, and
+Calvin, and Luther, as familiarly as if they had been her most intimate
+friends; and the Captain led her on and played her as he would have
+played a trout in one of the winding Hampshire streams. His gravity was
+imperturbable. Vixen sat and wondered whether she was to hear this kind
+of thing every day of her life, and whether she would be expected to
+ask Miss Skipwith leading questions, as the Captain was doing. It was
+all very well for him, who was to spend only one day at Les Tourelles;
+but Vixen made up her mind that she would boldly avow her indifference
+to all creeds and all theologians, from Confucius to Swedenborg. She
+might consent to live for a time amidst the dullness and desolation of
+Les Tourelles, but she would not be weighed down and crushed by Miss
+Skipwith's appalling hobby. The mere idea of the horror of having every
+day to discuss a subject that was in its very nature inexhaustible,
+filled her with terror.
+
+"I would sooner take my meals in that abandoned kitchen, in the company
+of the rats and beetles, than have to listen every day to this kind of
+thing," she thought.
+
+When dinner was over the Captain went off to smoke his cigar in the
+garden, and this Vixen thought a good time for making her escape.
+
+"I should like to take a walk with my dog, if you will excuse me, Miss
+Skipwith," she said politely.
+
+"My dear, you must consider yourself at liberty to employ and amuse
+yourself as you please, of course always keeping strictly within the
+bounds of propriety," solemnly replied the lady of the manor. "I shall
+not interfere with your freedom. My own studies are of so grave a
+nature that they in a measure isolate me from my fellow-creatures, but
+when you require and ask for sympathy and advice, I shall be ready to
+give both. My library is at your service, and I hope ere long you will
+have found yourself some serious aim for your studies. Life without
+purpose is a life hardly worth living. If girls of your age could only
+find that out, and seek their vocation early, how much grander and
+nobler would be woman's place in the universe. But, alas! my dear, the
+common aim of girlhood seems to be to look pretty and to get married."
+
+"I have made up my mind never to marry," said Violet, with a smile that
+was half sad half cynical; "so there at least you may approve of me,
+Miss Skipwith."
+
+"My nephew tells me that you refused an excellent offer from an Irish
+peer."
+
+"I would not have done the Irish peer so great a wrong as to have
+married him without loving him."
+
+"I admire your honourable feeling," said Miss Skipwith, with solemn
+approval; "I, too, might have married, but the man towards whom my
+heart most inclined was a man of no family. I could not marry a man
+without family. I am weak enough to be prouder of my pedigree than
+other women are of beauty and fortune. I am the last of the Skipwiths,
+and I have done nothing to degrade my race. The family name and the
+family pride will die with me. There was a time when a Skipwith owned a
+third of the island. Our estate has dwindled to the garden and meadows
+that surround this old house; our family has shrunk into one old woman;
+but if I can make the name of Skipwith famous before I go down to my
+grave, I shall not have lived and laboured in vain."
+
+Vixen felt a thrill of pity as she listened to this brief confession of
+a self-deluded solitary soul, which had built its house upon sand, as
+hopefully as if the foundations were solidest rock. The line of
+demarcation between such fanaticism as Miss Skipwith's and the
+hallucination of an old lady in Bedlam, who fancies herself Queen
+Victoria, seemed to Vixen but a hair's breadth. But, after all, if the
+old lady and Miss Skipwith were both happy in their harmless
+self-deceptions, why should one pity them? The creature to be pitied is
+the man or woman who keenly sees and feels the hard realities of life,
+and cannot take pleasure in phantoms.
+
+Vixen ran off to her room to get her hat and gloves, delighted to find
+herself free. Miss Skipwith was not such a very bad sort of person,
+after all, perhaps. Liberty to roam about the island with her dog Vixen
+esteemed a great boon. She would be able to think about her troubles,
+unmolested by inquisitive looks or unwelcome sympathy.
+
+She went down to the court-yard, untied the faithful Argus, and they
+set out together to explore the unknown, the dog in such wild spirits
+that it was almost impossible for Vixen to be sad. The afternoon sun
+was shining in all his glory, birds were singing, flickering lights and
+shadows playing on the grassy banks. Argus scampered up and down the
+lanes, and burst tumultuously through gaps in the hedges, like a dog
+possessed of demons.
+
+It was a pretty little island, after all; Vixen was fain to admit as
+much. There was some justification for the people who sang its praises
+with such enthusiasm. One might have fancied it a fertile corner of
+Devonshire that had slipped its moorings and drifted westward on a
+summer sea.
+
+"If I had Arion here, and--Rorie, I think I could be almost happy,"
+Vixen said to herself with a dreamy smile.
+
+"And Rorie!"
+
+Alas, poor child! faintly, feebly steadfast in the barren path of
+honour: where could she not have been happy with the companion of her
+childhood, the one only love of her youth? Was there ever a spot of
+land or sea, from Hudson's Bay to the unmapped archipelago or
+hypothetical continent of the Southern Pole, where she could not have
+been happy with Roderick Vawdrey? She thought again of Helen Rolleston
+and her lover on the South Sea island. Ah what a happy fate was that of
+the consumptive heroine! Alone, protected, cherished, and saved from
+death by her devoted lover.
+
+Poor Rorie! She knew how well she loved him, now that the wide sea
+rolled between them, now that she had said him nay, denied her love,
+and parted from him for ever.
+
+She thought of that scene in the pine-wood, dimly lit by the young
+moon. She lived again those marvellous moments--the concentrated bliss
+and pain of a lifetime. She felt again the strong grasp of his hands,
+his breath upon her cheek, as he bent over her shoulder. Again she
+heard him pleading for the life-long union her soul desired as the most
+exquisite happiness life could give.
+
+
+  "I had not loved thee, dear, so well
+  Loved I not honour more."
+
+
+Those two familiar lines flashed into her mind as she thought of her
+lover. To have degraded herself, to have dishonoured him; no, it would
+have been too dreadful. Were he to plead again she must answer again as
+she had answered before.
+
+"His mother despised me," she thought. "If people in a better world are
+really _au courant_ as to the affairs of this, I should like Lady Jane
+Vawdrey to know that I am not utterly without the instincts of a
+gentlewoman."
+
+She wandered on, following the winding of the lanes, careless where she
+went, and determined to take advantage of her liberty. She met few
+people, and of those she did not trouble herself to ask her way.
+
+"If I lose myself on my desert island it can't much matter," she
+thought. "There is no one to be anxious about me. Miss Skipwith will be
+deep in her universal creed, and Captain Winstanley would be very glad
+for me to be lost. My death would leave him master for life of the
+Abbey House and all belonging to it."
+
+She roamed on till she came to the open seashore; a pretty little
+harbour surrounded with quaint-looking houses; two or three white
+villas in fertile gardens, on a raised road; and, dominating all the
+scene, a fine old feudal castle, with keep, battlements, drawbridge,
+portcullis, and all that becomes a fortress.
+
+This was Mount Orgueil, the castle in which Charles Stuart spent a
+short period of his life, while Cromwell was ruling by land and sea,
+and kingly hopes were at their lowest ebb. The good old fortress had
+suffered for its loyalty, for the Parliament sent Admiral Blake, with a
+fleet, to reduce the rebellious island to submission, and Mount Orgueil
+had not been strong enough to hold out against its assailants.
+
+Violet went up the sloping path that led to the grim old gateway under
+the gloomy arch, and still upward till she came to a sunny battlemented
+wall above the shining sea. The prospect was more than worth the
+trouble. Yonder, in the dim distance, were the towers of Coutance
+Cathedral; far away, mere spots in the blue water, were the smaller fry
+of the Channel Islands; below her, the yellow sands were smiling in the
+sun, the placid wavelets reflecting all the colour and glory of the
+changeful sky.
+
+"This would not be a bad place to live in, Argus, if----"
+
+She paused with her arm round her dog's neck, as he stood on end,
+looking over the parapet, with a deep interest in possible rats or
+rabbits lurking in some cavity of the craggy cliff below. If! Ah, what
+a big "if" that was! It meant love and dear familiar companionship. It
+meant all Vixen's little world.
+
+She lingered long. The scene was beautiful, and there was nothing to
+lure her home. Then, at last, feeling that she was treating poor Miss
+Skipwith badly, and that her prolonged absence might give alarm in that
+dreary household, she retraced her steps, and at the foot of the craggy
+mount asked the nearest way to Les Tourelles.
+
+The nearest way was altogether different from the track by which she
+had come, and brought her back to the old monastic gate in a little
+more than an hour. She opened the gate and went in. There was nothing
+for the most burglarious invader to steal at Les Tourelles, and bolts
+and locks were rarely used. Miss Skipwith was reading in her parlour, a
+white Persian cat dozing on a cushioned arm-chair beside her, some cups
+and saucers and a black teapot on a tray before her, and the rest of
+the table piled with books. There was no sign of Captain Winstanley.
+
+"I'm afraid I'm rather late," Vixen said apologetically.
+
+She felt a kind of half-pitying respect for Miss Skipwith, as a
+harmless lunatic.
+
+"My dear, I daresay that as an absolute fact you are late," answered
+the lady of the manor, without looking up from her book, "but as time
+is never too long for me, I have been hardly conscious of the delay.
+Your stepfather has gone down to the club at St. Helier's to see some
+of his old acquaintances. Perhaps you would like a cup of tea?"
+
+Vixen replied that she would very much like some tea, whereupon Miss
+Skipwith poured out a weak and tepid infusion, against which the girl
+inwardly protested.
+
+"If I am to exist at Les Tourelles, I must at least have decent tea,"
+she said to herself. "I must buy an occasional pound for my own
+consumption, make friends with Mrs. Doddery, and get her to brew it for
+me."
+
+And then Vixen knelt down by the arm-chair and tried to get upon
+intimate terms with the Persian. He was a serious-minded animal, and
+seemed inclined to resent her advances, so she left him in peace on his
+patchwork cushion, a relic of those earlier days when Miss Skipwith had
+squandered her precious hours on the feminine inanity of needle-work.
+
+Vixen thought of the German _Volkslied_, as she looked at the old lady
+in the black cap, bending over a ponderous volume, with the
+solemn-visaged cat coiled on the chair beside her.
+
+
+"Minerva's Vogel war ein Kauz."
+
+
+The Persian cat seemed as much an attribute of the female theologian as
+the bird of the goddess.
+
+Vixen went to her room soon after dark, and thus avoided the Captain,
+who did not return till ten. She was worn out with the fatigue of the
+voyage, her long ramble, the painful thoughts and manifold agitations
+of the last two days. She set her candle on the dressing-table, and
+looked round the bare empty room, feeling as if she were in a dream. It
+was all strange, and unhomely, and comfortless; like one of those wild
+dream-pictures which seem so appallingly real in their hideous
+unreality.
+
+"And I am to live here indefinitely--for the next six years, perhaps,
+until I come of age and am my own mistress. It is too dreadful!"
+
+She went to bed and slept a deep and comforting sleep, for very
+weariness: and she dreamt that she was walking on the battlements of
+Mount Orgueil, in the drowsy afternoon sunlight, with Charles Stuart;
+and the face of the royal exile was the face of Roderick Vawdrey, and
+the hand that held hers as they two stood side by side in the sunshine
+was the broad strong hand of her girlhood's friend.
+
+When she went downstairs between eight and nine next morning she found
+Miss Skipwith pacing slowly to and fro the terrace in front of the
+drawing-room windows, conning over the pencil notes of her yesterday's
+studies.
+
+"Your stepfather has been gone half-an-hour, my dear," said the lady of
+the manor. "He was very sorry to have to go without wishing you
+good-bye."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+Chiefly Financial.
+
+Violet was gone. Her rooms were empty; her faithful little waiting-maid
+was dismissed; her dog's deep-toned thunder no longer sounded through
+the house, baying joyous welcome when his mistress came down for her
+early morning ramble in the shrubberies. Arion had been sent to grass,
+and was running wild in fertile pastures, shoeless and unfettered as
+the South American mustang on his native prairie. Nothing associated
+with the exiled heiress was left, except the rooms she had inhabited;
+and even they looked blank and empty and strange without her. It was
+almost as if a whole family had departed. Vixen's presence seemed to
+have filled the house with youth and freshness, and free joyous life.
+Without her all was silent as the grave.
+
+Mrs. Winstanley missed her daughter sorely. She had been wont to
+complain fretfully of the girl's exuberance; but the blank her absence
+made struck a chill to the mother's heart. She had fancied that life
+would be easier without Violet; that her union with her husband would
+be more complete; and now she found herself looking wistfully towards
+the door of her morning-room, listening vaguely for a footstep; and the
+figure she looked for at the door, and the footsteps she listened for
+in the corridor were not Conrad Winstanley's. It was the buoyant step
+of her daughter she missed; it was the bright frank face of her
+daughter she yearned for.
+
+One day the captain surprised her in tears, and asked the reason of her
+melancholy.
+
+"I daresay it's very weak of me, Conrad," she said piteously, "but I
+miss Violet more and more every day."
+
+"It is uncommonly weak of you," answered the Captain with agreeable
+candour, "but I suppose it's natural. People generally get attached to
+their worries; and as your daughter was an incessant worry, you very
+naturally lament her absence. I am honest enough to confess that I am
+very glad she is gone. We had no domestic peace while she was with us."
+
+"But she is not to stay away for ever, Conrad. I cannot be separated
+from my only daughter for ever. That would be too dreadful."
+
+"'For ever' is a long word," answered the Captain coolly. "She will
+come back to us--of course."
+
+"When, dear?"
+
+"When she is older and wiser."
+
+This was cold comfort. Mrs. Winstanley dried her tears, and resumed her
+crewel-work. The interesting variety of shades in green which modern
+art has discovered were a source of comfort to the mother's troubled
+mind. Moved to emulation by the results that had been achieved in
+artistic needle-work by the school at South Kensington and the Royal
+Tapestry Manufactory at Windsor, Pamela found in her crewel-work an
+all-absorbing labour. Matilda of Normandy could hardly have toiled more
+industriously at the Bayeux tapestry than did Mrs. Winstanley, in the
+effort to immortalise the fleeting glories of woodland blossom or
+costly orchid upon kitchen towelling.
+
+It was a dull and lonely life which the mistress of the Abbey House led
+in these latter days of glowing summer weather; and perhaps it was only
+the distractions of crewels and point-lace which preserved her from
+melancholy madness. The Captain had been too long a bachelor to
+renounce the agreeable habits of a bachelor's existence. His amusements
+were all masculine, and more or less solitary. When there was no
+hunting, he gave himself up to fishing, and found his chief delight in
+the persecution of innocent salmon. He supplied the Abbey House larder
+with fish, sent an occasional basket to a friend, and dispatched the
+surplus produce of his rod to a fishmonger in London. He was an
+enthusiast at billiards, and would play with innocent Mr. Scobel rather
+than not play at all. He read every newspaper and periodical of mark
+that was published. He rode a good deal, and drove not a little in a
+high-wheeled dog-cart; quite an impossible vehicle for a lady. He
+transacted all the business of house, stable, gardens, and home-farm,
+and that in the most precise and punctual manner. He wrote a good many
+letters, and he smoked six or seven cigars every day. It must be
+obvious, therefore, that he had very little time to devote to his
+pretty middle-aged wife, whose languid airs and vapourish graces were
+likely to pall upon an ardent temper after a year of married life. Yet,
+though she found her days lonely, Mrs. Winstanley had no ground for
+complaint. What fault could a woman find in a husband who was always
+courteous and complimentary in his speech, whose domestic tastes were
+obvious, who thought it no trouble to supervise the smallest details of
+the household, who could order a dinner, lay out a garden, stock a
+conservatory, or amend the sanitary arrangements of a stable with equal
+cleverness; who never neglected a duty towards wife or society?
+
+Mrs. Winstanley could see no flaw in the perfection of her husband's
+character; but it began about this time slowly to dawn upon her languid
+soul that, as Captain Winstanley's wife, she was not so happy as she
+had been as Squire Tempest's widow.
+
+Her independence was gone utterly. She awoke slowly to the
+comprehension of that fact. Her individuality was blotted out, or
+absorbed into her husband's being. She had no more power or influence
+in her own house, than the lowest scullion in her kitchen. She had
+given up her banking account, and the receipt of her rents, which in
+the days of her widowhood had been remitted to her half-yearly by the
+solicitor who collected them. Captain Winstanley had taken upon himself
+the stewardship of his wife's income. She had been inclined to cling to
+her cheque-book and her banking account at Southampton; but the Captain
+had persuaded her of the folly of such an arrangement.
+
+"Why two balances and two accounts, when one will do?" he argued. "You
+have only to ask me for a cheque when you want it, or to give me your
+bills."
+
+Whereupon the bride of six weeks had yielded graciously, and the
+balance had been transferred from the Southampton bank to Captain
+Winstanley's account at the Union.
+
+But now, with Theodore's unsettled account of four years' standing
+hanging over her head by the single hair of the penny post, and likely
+to descend upon her any morning, Mrs. Winstanley regretted her
+surrendered banking account, with its balance of eleven hundred pounds
+or so. The Captain had managed everything with wondrous wisdom, no
+doubt. He had done away with all long credits. He paid all his bills on
+the first Saturday in the month, save such as could be paid weekly. He
+had reduced the price of almost everything supplied to the Abbey House,
+from the stable provender to the wax candles that lighted the faded
+sea-green draperies and white panelling of the drawing-room. The only
+expenditure over which he had no control was his wife's private
+disbursement; but he had a habit of looking surprised when she asked
+him for a cheque, and a business-like way of asking the amount
+required, which prevented her applying to him often. Still, there was
+that long-standing account of Madame Theodore's in the background, and
+Mrs. Winstanley felt that it was an account which must be settled
+sooner or later. Her disinclination to ask her husband for money had
+tended to swell Theodore's bill. She had bought gloves, ribbons, shoes,
+everything from that tasteful purveyor, and had even obtained the
+somewhat expensive material for her fancy work through Madame Theodore;
+a temporary convenience which she could hardly hope to enjoy gratis.
+
+Like all weak women she had her occasional longings for independence,
+her moments of inward revolt against the smooth tyrant. The income was
+hers, she argued with herself sometimes, and she had a right to spend
+her own money as she pleased. But then she recalled her husband's grave
+warnings about the future and its insecurity. She had but a brief lease
+of her present wealth, and he was labouring to lay by a provision for
+the days to come.
+
+"It would be wicked of me to thwart him in such a wise purpose," she
+told herself.
+
+The restriction of her charities pained the soft-hearted Pamela not a
+little. To give to all who asked her had been the one unselfish
+pleasure of her narrow soul. She had been imposed upon, of course; had
+fed families whose fathers squandered their weekly wages in the cosy
+taproom of a village inn; had in some wise encouraged idleness and
+improvident living; but she had been the comforter of many a weary
+heart, the benefactor of many a patient care-oppressed mother, the
+raiser-up of many a sickly child drooping on its bed of pain.
+
+Now, under the Captain's rule, she had the pleasure of seeing her name
+honourably recorded in the subscription list of every local charity:
+but her hand was no longer open to the surrounding poor, her good old
+Saxon name of Lady had lost its ancient significance. She was no longer
+the giver of bread to the hungry. She sighed and submitted,
+acknowledging her husband's superior wisdom.
+
+"You would not like to live in a semi-detached villa on the Southampton
+Road, would you, my dear Pamela?" asked the Captain.
+
+"I might die in a semi-detached house, Conrad. I'm sure I could not
+live in one," she exclaimed piteously.
+
+"Then, my love, we must make a tremendous effort and save all we can
+before your daughter comes of age, or else we shall assuredly have to
+leave the Abbey House. We might go abroad certainly, and live at Dinan,
+or some quiet old French town where provisions are cheap."
+
+"My dear Conrad, I could not exist in one of those old French towns,
+smelling perpetually of cabbage-soup."
+
+"Then, my dear love, we must exercise the strictest economy, or life
+will be impossible six years hence."
+
+Pamela sighed and assented, with a sinking of her heart. To her mind
+this word economy was absolutely the most odious in the English
+language. Her life was made up of trifles; and they were all expensive
+trifles. She liked to be better dressed than any woman of her
+acquaintance. She liked to surround herself with pretty things; and the
+prettiness must take the most fashionable form, and be frequently
+renewed. She had dim ideas which she considered aesthetic, and which
+involved a good deal of shifting and improving of furniture.
+
+Against all these expensive follies Captain Winstanley set his face
+sternly, using pretty words to his wife at all times, but proving
+himself as hard as rock when she tried to bend him to her will. He had
+not yet interfered with her toilet, for he had yet to learn what that
+cost.
+
+This knowledge came upon him like a thunder-clap one sultry morning in
+July--real thunder impending in the metallic-tinted sky--about a month
+after Vixen's departure.
+
+Theodore's long-expected bill was among the letters in the morning's
+bag--a bulky envelope which the Captain handed to his wife with his
+usual politeness. He never opened her letters, but he invariably asked
+to see them, and she always handed her correspondence over to him with
+a childlike meekness. To-day she was slow to hand the Captain her
+letter. She sat looking at the long list of items with a clouded brow,
+and forgot to pour out her husband's coffee in the abstraction of a
+troubled mind.
+
+"I'm afraid your letters of this morning are not of a very pleasant
+character, my love," said the Captain, watchful of his wife's clouded
+countenance. "Is that a bill you are examining? I thought we paid ready
+money for everything."
+
+"It is my dressmaker's bill," faltered Mrs. Winstanley.
+
+"A dressmaker's bill! That can't be very alarming. You look as awful,
+and the document looks as voluminous, as if it were a lawyer's bill,
+including the costs of two or three unlucky Chancery suits, or
+half-a-dozen conveyances. Let me have the account, dear, and I'll send
+your dressmaker a cheque next Saturday."
+
+He held out his hand for the paper, but Pamela did not give it to him.
+
+"I'm afraid you'll think it awfully high, Conrad," she said, in a
+deprecating tone. "You see it has been running a long time--since the
+Christmas before dear Edward's death, in fact. I have paid Theodore
+sums on account in the meanwhile, but those seem to go for very little
+against the total of her bill. She is expensive, of course. All the
+West End milliners are; but her style is undeniable, and she is in
+direct association with Worth."
+
+"My dear Pamela, I did not ask you for her biography, I asked only for
+her bill. Pray let me see the total, and tell me if you have any
+objections to make against the items."
+
+"No," sighed Mrs. Winstanley, bending over the document with a
+perplexed brow, "I believe--indeed, I am sure--I have had all the
+things. Many of them are dearer than I expected; but there is no rule
+as to the price of anything thoroughly Parisian, that has not been seen
+in London. One has to pay for style and originality. I hope you won't
+be vexed at having to write so large a cheque, Conrad, at a time when
+you are so anxious to save money. Next year I shall try my best to
+economise."
+
+"My dearest Pamela, why beat about the bush? The bill must be paid,
+whatever its amount. I suppose a hundred pounds will cover it?"
+
+"Oh, Conrad, when many women give a hundred pounds for a single dress!"
+
+"When they do I should say that Bedlam must be their natural and
+fitting abode," retorted the Captain, with suppressed ire. "The bill is
+more than a hundred then? Pray give it me, Pamela, and make an end of
+this foolishness."
+
+This time Captain Winstanley went over to his wife, and took the paper
+out of her hand. He had not seen the total, but he was white with rage
+already. He had made up his mind to squeeze a small fortune out of the
+Abbey House estate during his brief lease of the property; and here was
+this foolish wife of his squandering hundreds upon finery.
+
+"Be kind enough to pour me out a cup of coffee," he said, resuming his
+seat, and deliberately spreading out the bill.
+
+"Great Heaven!" he cried, after a glance at the total. "This is too
+preposterous. The woman must be mad."
+
+The total was seventeen hundred and sixty-four pounds fourteen and
+sixpence. Mrs. Winstanley's payments on account amounted to four
+hundred pounds; leaving a balance of thirteen hundred and sixty-four
+pounds for the Captain to liquidate.
+
+"Indeed, dear Conrad, it is not such a very tremendous account,"
+pleaded Pamela, appalled by the expression of her husband's face.
+"Theodore has customers who spend two thousand a year with her."
+
+"Very laudable extravagance, if they are wives of millionaires, and
+have their silver-mines, or cotton-mills, or oil-wells to maintain
+them. But that the widow of a Hampshire squire, a lady who six years
+hence will have to exist upon a pittance, should run up such a bill as
+this is to my mind an act of folly that is almost criminal. From this
+moment I abandon all my ideas of nursing your estate, of providing
+comfortably for our future. Henceforward we must drift towards
+insolvency, like other people. It would be worse than useless for me to
+go on racking my brains in the endeavour to secure a given result, when
+behind my back your thoughtless extravagance is stultifying all my
+efforts."
+
+Here Mrs. Winstanley dissolved into tears.
+
+"Oh Conrad! How can you say such cruel things?" she sobbed. "I go
+behind your back! I stultify you! When I have allowed myself to be
+ruled and governed in everything! When I have even parted with my only
+child to please you!"
+
+"Not till your only child had tried to set the house on fire."
+
+"Indeed, Conrad, you are mistaken there. She never meant it."
+
+"I know nothing about her meaning," said the Captain moodily. "She did
+it."
+
+"It is too cruel, after all my sacrifices, that I should be called
+extravagant--and foolish--and criminal. I have only dressed as a lady
+ought to dress--out of mere self-respect. Dear Edward always liked to
+see me look nice. He never said an unkind word about my bills. It is a
+sad--sad change for me."
+
+"Your future will be a sadder change, if you go on in the way you are
+going," retorted the Captain. "Let me see: your income, after Violet
+comes of age, is to be fifteen hundred a year. You have been spending six
+hundred a year upon millinery. That leaves nine hundred for everything
+else--stable, garden, coals, taxes, servants' wages, wine--to say
+nothing of such trifling claims as butcher and baker, and the rest of
+it. You will have to manage with wonderful cleverness to make both ends
+meet."
+
+"I am sure I would sacrifice anything rather than live unhappily with
+you, Conrad," Mrs. Winstanley murmured piteously, drinking much strong
+tea in her agitation, the cup shaking in her poor little white weak
+hand. "Nothing could be so dreadful to me as to live on bad terms with
+you. I have surrendered so much for your love, Conrad. What would
+become of me, if I lost that? I will give up dealing with Theodore, if
+you like--though it will be a hard trial, after she has worked for me
+so many years, and has studied my style and knows exactly what suits
+me. I will dress ever so plainly, and even have my gowns made by a
+Southampton dressmaker, though that will be too dreadful. You will
+hardly recognise me. But I will do anything--anything, Conrad, rather
+than hear you speak so cruelly."
+
+She went over to him and laid her hand tremulously on his shoulder, and
+looked down at him with piteous, pleading eyes. No Circassian slave,
+afraid of bowstring and sack, could have entreated her master's
+clemency with deeper self-abasement.
+
+Even Conrad Winstanley's hard nature was touched by the piteousness of
+her look and tone. He took the hand gently and raised it to his lips.
+
+"I don't mean to be cruel, Pamela," he said. "I only want you to face
+the truth, and to understand your future position. It is your own money
+you are squandering, and you have a right to waste it, if it pleases
+you to do so. But it is a little hard for a man who has laboured and
+schemed for a given result, suddenly to find himself out in his
+calculations by so much as thirteen hundred and sixty-four pounds. Let
+us say no more about it, my dear. Here is the bill, and it must be
+paid. We have only to consider the items, and see if the prices are
+reasonable."
+
+And then the Captain, with bent brow and serious aspect, began to read
+the lengthy record of an English lady's folly. Most of the items he
+passed over in silence, or with only a sigh, keeping his wife by his
+side, looking over his shoulder.
+
+"Point out anything that is wrong," he said; but as yet Mrs. Winstanley
+had found no error in the bill.
+
+Sometimes there came an item which moved the Captain to speech. "A
+dinner-dress, _pain brûlé_ brocade, mixed _poult de soie_, _manteau de
+cour_, lined ivory satin, trimmed with hand-worked embroidery of wild
+flowers on Brussels net, sixty-three pounds."
+
+"What in the name of all that's reasonable is _pain brûlé?_" asked the
+Captain impatiently.
+
+"It's the colour, Conrad. One of those delicate tertiaries that have
+been so much worn lately."
+
+"Sixty guineas for a dinner-dress! That's rather stiff. Do you know
+that a suit of dress-clothes costs me nine pounds, and lasts almost as
+many years?"
+
+"My dear Conrad, for a man it is so different. No one looks at your
+clothes. That dress was for Lady Ellangowan's dinner. You made me very
+happy that night, for you told me I was the best-dressed woman in the
+room."
+
+"I should not have been very happy myself if I had known the cost of
+your gown," answered the Captain grimly. "Fifteen guineas for a Honiton
+_fichu!_" he cried presently. "What in mercy's name is a _fichu?_ It
+sounds like a sneeze."
+
+"It is a little half-handkerchief that I wear to brighten a dark silk
+dress when we dine alone, Conrad. You know you have always said that
+lace harmonises a woman's dress, and gives a softness to the complexion
+and contour."
+
+"I shall be very careful what I say in future," muttered the Captain,
+as he went on with the bill. "French cambric _peignoir_, trimmed real
+Valenciennes, turquoise ribbon, nineteen guineas," he read presently.
+"Surely you would never give twenty pounds for a gown you wear when you
+are having your hair dressed?"
+
+"That is only the name, dear. It is really a breakfast-dress. You know
+you always like to see me in white of a morning."
+
+The Captain groaned and said nothing.
+
+"Come," he said, by-and-by, "this surely must be a mistake. 'Shooting
+dress, superfine silk corduroy, trimmed and lined with cardinal _poult
+de soie_, oxydised silver buttons, engraved hunting subjects,
+twenty-seven guineas.' Thank Heaven you are not one of those masculine
+women who go out shooting, and jump over five-barred gates."
+
+"The dress is quite right, dear, though I don't shoot. Theodore sent it
+to me for a walking-dress, and I have worn it often when we have walked
+in the Forest. You thought it very stylish and becoming, though just a
+little fast."
+
+"I see," said the Captain, with a weary air, "your not shooting does
+not hinder your having shooting-dresses. Are there any
+fishing-costumes, or riding-habits, in the bill?"
+
+"No, dear. It was Theodore's own idea to send me the corduroy dress.
+She thought it so new and _recherché_, and even the Duchess admired it.
+Mine was the first she had ever seen."
+
+"That was a triumph worth twenty-seven guineas, no doubt," sighed the
+Captain. "Well, I suppose there is no more to be said. The bill to me
+appears iniquitous. If you were a duchess or a millionaire's wife, of
+course it would be different. Such women have a right to spend all they
+can upon dress. They encourage trade. I am no Puritan. But when a woman
+dresses beyond her means--above her social position--I regret the wise
+old sumptuary laws which regulated these things in the days when a fur
+coat was a sign of nobility. If you only knew, Pamela, how useless this
+expensive finery is, how little it adds to your social status, how
+little it enhances your beauty! Why, the finest gown this Madame
+Theodore ever made cannot hide one of your wrinkles."
+
+"My wrinkles!" cried Pamela, sorely wounded. "That is the first time I
+ever heard of them. To think that my husband should be the first to
+tell me I am getting an old woman! But I forgot, you are younger than
+I, and I daresay in your eyes I seem quite old."
+
+"My dear Pamela, be reasonable. Can a woman's forehead at forty be
+quite as smooth as it was at twenty? However handsome a woman is at
+that age--and to my mind it is almost the best age for beauty, just as
+the ripe rich colouring of a peach is lovelier than the poor little
+pale blossom that preceded it--however attractive a middle-aged woman
+may be there must be some traces to show that she has lived half her
+life; and to suppose that pain brûlé brocade, and hand-worked
+embroidery, can obliterate those, is extreme folly. Dress in rich and
+dark velvets, and old point-lace that has been twenty years in your
+possession, and you will be as beautiful and as interesting as a
+portrait by one of the old Venetian masters. Can Theodore's highest art
+make you better than that? Remember that excellent advice of old
+Polonius's,
+
+  Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
+  But not expressed in fancy.
+
+It is the fancy that swells your milliner's bill, the newly-invented
+trimmings, the complex and laborious combinations."
+
+"I will be dreadfully economical in future, Conrad. For the last year I
+have dressed to please you."
+
+"But what becomes of all these gowns?" asked the Captain, folding up
+the bill; "what do you do with them?"
+
+"They go out."
+
+"Out where? To the colonies?"
+
+"No, dear; they go out of fashion; and I give them to Pauline."
+
+"A sixty-guinea dress flung to your waiting-maid! The Duchess of
+Dovedale could not do things in better style."
+
+"I should be very sorry not to dress better than the Duchess," said
+Mrs. Winstanley, "she is always hideously dowdy. But a duchess can
+afford to dress as badly as she likes."
+
+"I see. Then it is we only who occupy the border-land of society who
+have to be careful. Well, my dear Pamela, I shall send Madame Theodore
+her cheque, and with your permission close her account; and, unless you
+receive some large accession of fortune I should recommend you not to
+reopen it."
+
+His wife gave a heart-breaking sigh.
+
+"I would sacrifice anything for your sake, Conrad," she said, "but I
+shall be a perfect horror, and you will hate me."
+
+"I fell in love with you, my dear, not with your gown."
+
+"But you fell in love with me in my gown, dear; and you don't know how
+different your feelings might have been if you had seen me in a gown
+cut by a country dressmaker."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+"With weary Days thou shalt be clothed and fed."
+
+Captain Winstanley never again alluded to the dressmaker's bill. He was
+too wise a man to reopen old wounds or to dwell upon small vexations.
+He had invested every penny that he could spare, leaving the smallest
+balance at his banker's compatible with respectability. He had to sell
+some railway shares in order to pay Madame Theodore. Happily the shares
+had gone up since his purchase of them, and he lost nothing by the
+transaction; but it galled him sorely to part with the money. It was as
+if an edifice that he had been toilfully raising, stone by stone, had
+begun to crumble under his hands. He knew not when or whence the next
+call might come. The time in which he had to save money was so short.
+Only six years, and the heiress would claim her estate, and Mrs.
+Winstanley would be left with the empty shell of her present
+position--the privilege of occupying a fine old Tudor mansion, with
+enormous stables, and fifteen acres of garden and shrubberies, and an
+annuity that would barely suffice to maintain existence in a third-rate
+London square.
+
+Mrs. Winstanley was slow to recover from the shock of her husband's
+strong language about Theodore's bill. She was sensitive about all
+things that touched her own personality, and she was peculiarly
+sensitive about the difference between her husband's age and her own.
+She had married a man who was her junior; but she had married him with
+the conviction that, in his eyes at least, she had all the bloom and
+beauty of youth, and that he admired and loved her above all other
+women. That chance allusion to her wrinkles had pierced her heart. She
+was deeply afflicted by the idea that her husband had perceived the
+signs of advancing years in her face. And now she fell to perusing her
+looking-glass more critically than she had ever done before. She saw
+herself in the searching north light; and the north light was more
+cruel and more candid than Captain Winstanley. There were lines on her
+forehead--unmistakable, ineffaceable lines. She could wear her hair in
+no way that would hide them, unless she had hidden her forehead
+altogether under a bush of frizzy fluffy curls. There was a faded look
+about her complexion, too, which she had never before discovered--a
+wanness, a yellowness. Yes, these things meant age! In such a spirit,
+perchance, did Elizabeth of England survey the reflection in her
+mirror, until all the glories of her reign seemed as nothing to her
+when weighed against this dread horror of fast-coming age. And luckless
+Mary, cooped up in the narrow rooms at Fotheringay, may have deemed
+captivity, and the shadow of doom, as but trifling ills compared with
+the loss of youth and beauty. Once to have been exquisitely beautiful,
+the inspiration of poets, the chosen model of painters, and to see the
+glory fading--that, for a weak woman, must be sorrow's crown of sorrow.
+
+Anon dim feelings of jealousy began to gnaw Pamela's heart. She grew
+watchful of her husband's attentions to other women, suspicious of
+looks and words that meant no more than a man's desire to please.
+Society no longer made her happy. Her Tuesday afternoons lost their
+charm. There was poison in everything. Lady Ellangowan's flirting ways,
+which had once only amused her, now tortured her. Captain Winstanley's
+devotion to this lively matron, which had heretofore seemed only the
+commoner's tribute of respect to the peeress, now struck his wife as a
+too obvious infatuation for the woman. She began to feel wretched in
+the society of certain women--nay, of all women who were younger, or
+possibly more attractive, than herself. She felt that the only security
+for her peace would be to live on a desert island with the husband she
+had chosen. She was of too weak a mind to hide these growing doubts and
+ever-augmenting suspicions. The miserable truth oozed out of her in
+foolish little speeches; those continual droppings that wear the
+hardest stone, and which wore even the adamantine surface of the
+Captain's tranquil temper. There was a homoeopathic admixture of this
+jealous poison in all the food he ate. He could rarely get through a
+_tête-à-tête_ breakfast or dinner undisturbed by some invidious remark.
+
+One day the Captain rose up in his strength, and grappled with this
+jealous demon. He had let the little speeches, the random shots, pass
+unheeded until now; but on one particularly dismal morning, a bleak
+March morning, when the rain beat against the windows, and the deodoras
+and cypresses were lashed and tormented by the blusterous wind, and the
+low sky was darkly gray, the captain's temper suddenly broke out.
+
+"My dear Pamela, is it possible that these whimpering little speeches
+of yours mean jealousy?" he asked, looking at her severely from under
+bent brows.
+
+"I'm sure I never said that I was jealous," faltered Pamela, stirring
+her tea with a nervous movement of her thin white band.
+
+"Of course not; no woman cares to describe herself in plain words as an
+idiot; but of late you have favoured me with a good many imbecile
+remarks, which all seem to tend one way. You are hurt and wounded when
+I am decently civil to the women I meet in society. Is that sensible or
+reasonable, in a woman of your age and experience?"
+
+"You used not to taunt me with my age before we were married, Conrad."
+
+"Do I taunt you with it now? I only say that a woman of forty,"--Mrs.
+Winstanley shuddered--"ought to have more sense than a girl of
+eighteen; and that a woman who had had twenty years' experience of
+well-bred society ought not to put on the silly jealousies of a
+school-girl trying to provoke a quarrel with her first lover."
+
+"It is all very well to pretend to think me weak and foolish, Conrad.
+Yes, I know I am weak, ridiculously weak, in loving you as intensely as
+I do. But I cannot help that. It is my nature to cling to others, as
+the ivy clings to the oak. I would have clung to Violet, if she had
+been more loving and lovable. But you cannot deny that your conduct to
+Lady Ellangowan yesterday afternoon was calculated to make any wife
+unhappy."
+
+"If a wife is to be unhappy because her husband talks to another woman
+about her horses and her gardens, I suppose I gave you sufficient cause
+for misery," answered the Captain sneeringly. "I can declare that Lady
+Ellangowan and I were talking of nothing more sentimental."
+
+"Oh, Conrad, it is not _what_ you talked about, though your voice was
+so subdued that it was impossible for anyone to know what you were
+saying----"
+
+"Except Lady Ellangowan."
+
+"It was your manner. The way you bent over her, your earnest
+expression."
+
+"Would you have had me stand three yards off and bawl at the lady? Or
+am I bound to assume that bored and vacuous countenance which some
+young men consider good form? Come, my dear Pamela, pray let us be
+reasonable. Here are you and I settled for life beside the domestic
+hearth. We have no children. We are not particularly well off--it will
+be as much as we shall be able to do, by-and-by, to make both ends
+meet. We are neither of us getting younger. These things are serious
+cares, and we have to bear them. Why should you add to these an
+imaginary trouble, a torment that has no existence, save in your own
+perverse mind? If you could but know my low estimate of the women to
+whom I am civil! I like society: and to get on in society a man must
+make himself agreeable to influential women. It is the women who have
+the reins in the social race, and by-and-by, if I should go into
+Parliament----"
+
+"Parliament!" cried his wife affrightedly. "You want to become a Member
+of Parliament, and to be out at all hours of the night! Our home-life
+would be altogether destroyed then."
+
+"My dear Pamela, if you take such pains to make our home-life
+miserable, it will be hardly worth preserving," retorted the Captain.
+
+"Conrad, I am going to ask you a question--a very solemn question."
+
+"You alarm me."
+
+"Long ago--before we were married--when Violet was arguing with me
+against our marriage--you know how vehemently she opposed it--"
+
+"Perfectly. Go on."
+
+"She told me that you had proposed to her before you proposed to me.
+Oh, Conrad, could that be true?"
+
+The heart-rending tone in which the question was asked, the pathetic
+look that accompanied it, convinced Captain Winstanley that, if he
+valued his domestic peace, he must perjure himself.
+
+"It had no more foundation than many other assertions of that young
+lady's," he said. "I may have paid her compliments, and praised her
+beauty; but how could I think of her for a wife, when you were by? Your
+soft confiding nature conquered me before I knew that I was hit."
+
+He got up and went over to his wife and kissed her kindly enough,
+feeling sorry for her as he might have done for a wayward child that
+weeps it scarce knows wherefore, oppressed by a vague sense of
+affliction.
+
+"Let us try to be happy together, Pamela," he pleaded, with a sigh,
+"life is weary work at best."
+
+"That means that you are not happy, Conrad."
+
+"My love, I am as happy as you will let me be."
+
+"Have I ever opposed you in anything?"
+
+"No, dear; but lately you have indulged in covert upbraidings that have
+plagued me sorely. Let us have no more of them. As for your
+daughter"--his face darkened at the mention of that name--"understand
+at once and for ever that she and I can never inhabit the same house.
+If she comes, I go. If you cannot live without her you must learn to
+live without me."
+
+"Conrad, what have I done that you should talk of such a thing? Have I
+asked you to let Violet come home?"
+
+"No, but you have behaved mopishly of late, as if you were pining for
+her return."
+
+"I pine for nothing but your love."
+
+"That has always been yours."
+
+With this assurance Mrs. Winstanley was fain to content herself, but
+even this assurance did not make her happy. The glory and brightness
+had departed from her life somehow; and neither kind words nor friendly
+smiles from the Captain could lure them back. There are stages in the
+lives of all of us when life seems hardly worth living: not periods of
+great calamity, but dull level bits of road along which the journey
+seems very weary. The sun has hidden himself behind gray clouds, cold
+winds are blowing up from the bitter east, the birds have left off
+singing, the landscape has lost its charm. We plod on drearily, and can
+see no Pole Star in life's darkening sky.
+
+It had been thus of late with Pamela Winstanley. Slowly and gradually
+the conviction had come to her that her second marriage had been a
+foolish and ill-advised transaction, resulting inevitably in sorrow and
+unavailing remorse. The sweet delusion that it had been a love-match on
+Captain Winstanley's side, as well as on her own, abandoned her all at
+once, and she found herself face to face with stern common-sense.
+
+That scene about Theodore's bill had exercised a curious effect upon
+her mind. To an intellect so narrow, trifles were important, and that
+the husband who had so much admired and praised the elegance of her
+appearance could grudge the cost of her toilet galled her sorely. It
+was positively for her the first revelation of her husband's character.
+His retrenchments in household expenses she had been ready to applaud
+as praiseworthy economies; but when he assailed her own extravagance,
+she saw in him a husband who loved far too wisely to love well.
+
+"If he cared for me, if he valued my good looks, he could never object
+to my spending a few pounds upon a dress," she told herself.
+
+She could not take the Captain's common-sense view of a subject so
+important to herself. Love in her mind meant a blind indulgence like
+the Squire's. Love that could count the cost of its idol's caprices,
+and calculate the chances of the future, was not love. That feeling of
+poverty, too, was a new sensation to the mistress of the Abbey House,
+and a very unpleasant one. Married very young to a man of ample means,
+who adored her, and never set the slightest restriction upon her
+expenditure, extravagance had become her second nature. To have to
+study every outlay, to ask herself whether she could not do without a
+thing, was a hard trial; but it had become so painful to her to ask the
+Captain for money that she preferred the novel pain of self-denial to
+that humiliation. And then there was the cheerless prospect of the
+future always staring her in the face, that dreary time after Violet's
+majority, when it would be a question whether she and her husband could
+afford to go on living at the Abbey House.
+
+"Everybody will know that my income is diminished," she thought.
+"However well we may manage, people will know that we are pinching."
+
+This was a vexatious reflection. The sting of poverty itself could not
+be so sharp as the pain of being known to be poor.
+
+Captain Winstanley pursued the even tenor of his way all this time, and
+troubled himself but little about his wife's petty sorrows. He did his
+duty to her according to his own lights, and considered that she had no
+ground for complaint. He even took pains to be less subdued in his
+manner to Lady Ellangowan, and to give no shadow of reason for the
+foolish jealousy he so much despised. His mind was busy about his own
+affairs. He had saved money since his marriage, and he employed himself
+a good deal in the investment of his savings. So far he had been lucky
+in all he touched, and had contrived to increase his capital by one or
+two speculative ventures in foreign railways. If things went on as well
+for the next six years he and his wife might live at the Abbey House,
+and maintain their station in the county, till the end of the chapter.
+
+"I daresay Pamela will outlive me," thought the Captain; "those
+fragile-looking invalid women are generally long lived. And I have all
+the chances of the hunting-field, and vicious horses, and other men's
+blundering with loaded guns, against me. What can happen to a woman who
+sits at home and works crewel antimacassars and reads novels all day,
+and never drinks anything stronger than tea, and never eats enough to
+disturb her digestion? She ought to be a female Methuselah."
+
+Secure in this idea of his wife's longevity, and happy in his
+speculations, Captain Winstanley looked forward cheerfully to the
+future: and the evil shadow of the day when the hand of fate should
+thrust him from the good old house where he was master had never fallen
+across his dreams.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+Love and AEsthetics.
+
+Spring had returned, primroses and violets were being sold at the
+street-corners, Parliament was assembled, and London had reawakened
+from its wintry hibernation to new life and vigour. The Dovedales were
+at their Kensington mansion. The Duchess had sent forth her cards for
+alternate Thursday evenings of a quasi-literary and scientific
+character. Lady Mabel was polishing her poems with serious thoughts of
+publication, but with strictest secrecy. No one but her parents and
+Roderick Vawdrey had been told of these poetic flights. The book would
+be given to the world under a _nom de plume_. Lady Mabel was not so
+much a Philistine as to suppose that writing good poetry could be a
+disgrace to a duke's daughter; but she felt that the house of Ashbourne
+would be seriously compromised were the critics to find her guilty of
+writing doggerel; and critics are apt to deal harshly with the titled
+muse. She remembered Brougham's savage onslaught upon the boy Byron.
+
+Mr. Vawdrey was in town. He rode a good deal in the Row, spent an hour
+or so daily at Tattersall's, haunted three or four clubs of a juvenile
+and frivolous character, drank numerous bottles of Apolinaris, and
+found the task of killing time rather hard labour. Of course there were
+certain hours in which he was on duty at Kensington. He was expected to
+eat his luncheon there daily, to dine when neither he nor the ducal
+house had any other engagement, and to attend all his aunt's parties.
+There was always a place reserved for him at the dinner-table, however
+middle-aged and politically or socially important the assembly might me.
+
+He was to be married early in August. Everything was arranged. The
+honeymoon was to be spent in Sweden and Norway--the only accessible
+part of Europe which Lady Mabel had not explored. They were to see
+everything remarkable in the two countries, and to do Denmark as well,
+if they had time. Lady Mabel was learning Swedish and Norwegian, in
+order to make the most of her opportunities.
+
+"It is so wretched to be dependent upon couriers and interpreters," she
+said. "I shall be a more useful companion for you, Roderick, if I
+thoroughly know the language of each country."
+
+"My dear Mabel, you are a most remarkable girl," exclaimed her
+betrothed admiringly. "If you go on at this rate, by the time you are
+forty you will be as great a linguist as Cardinal Wiseman."
+
+"Languages are very easy to learn when one has the habit of studying
+them, and a slight inclination for etymology," Lady Mabel replied
+modestly.
+
+Now that the hour of publication was really drawing nigh, the poetess
+began to feel the need of a confidante. The Duchess was admiring but
+somewhat obtuse, and rarely admired in the right place. The Duke was
+out of the question.
+
+If a new Shakespeare had favoured him with the first reading of a
+tragedy as great as "Hamlet," the Duke's thoughts would have wandered
+off to the impending dearth of guano, or the probable exhaustion of
+Suffolk punches, and the famous breed of Chillingham oxen. So, for want
+of anyone better, Lady Mabel was constrained to read her verses to her
+future husband; just as Molière reads his plays to his housekeeper, for
+want of any other hearer, the two Béjarts, aunt and niece, having
+naturally plays enough and to spare in the theatre.
+
+Now, in this crucial hour of her poetic career, Mabel Ashbourne wanted
+something more than a patient listener. She wanted a critic with a fine
+ear for rhythm and euphony. She wanted a judge who could nicely weigh
+the music of a certain combination of syllables, and who could decide
+for her when she hesitated between two epithets of equal force, but
+varying depths of tone.
+
+To this nice task she invited her betrothed sometimes on a sunny April
+afternoon, when luncheon was over, and the lovers were free to repair
+to Lady Mabel's own particular den--an airy room on an upper floor,
+with quaint old Queen Anne casements opening upon a balcony crammed
+with flowers, and overlooking the umbrageous avenues of Kensington
+Garden, with a glimpse of the old red palace in the distance.
+
+Rorie did his best to be useful, and applied himself to his duty with
+perfect heartiness and good-temper; but luncheon and the depressing
+London atmosphere made him sleepy, and he had sometimes hard work to
+stifle his yawns, and to keep his eyes open, while Lady Mabel was deep
+in the entanglement of lines which soared to the seventh heaven of
+metaphysics. Unhappily Rorie knew hardly anything about metaphysics. He
+had never read Victor Cousin, or any of the great German lights; and a
+feeling of despair took possession of him when his sweetheart's poetry
+degenerated into diluted Hegelism, or rose to a feeble imitation of
+Browning's obscurest verse.
+
+"Either I must be intensely stupid or this must be rather difficult to
+understand," he thought helplessly, when Mabel had favoured him with
+the perusal of the first act of a tragedy or poetic dialogue, in which
+the hero, a kind of milk-and-watery Faustus, held converse, and argued
+upon the deeper questions of life and faith, with a very mild Mephisto.
+
+"I'm afraid you don't like the opening of my 'Tragedy of the Sceptic
+Soul'," Lady Mabel said with a somewhat offended air, as she looked up
+at the close of the act, and saw poor Rorie gazing at her with watery
+eyes, and an intensely despondent expression of countenance.
+
+"I'm afraid I'm rather dense this afternoon," he said with hasty
+apology, "I think your first act is beautifully written--the lines are
+full of music; nobody with an ear for euphony could doubt that; but
+I--forgive me, I fancy you are sometimes a shade too metaphysical--and
+those scientific terms which you occasionally employ, I fear will be a
+little over the heads of the general public----"
+
+"My dear Roderick, do you suppose that in an age whose highest
+characteristic is the rapid advance of scientific knowledge, there can
+be anybody so benighted as not to understand the terminology of
+science?"
+
+"Perhaps not, dear. I fear I am very much behind the times. I have
+lived too much in Hampshire. I frankly confess that some expressions in
+your--er--Tragedy of--er--Soulless Scept--Sceptic Soul--were Greek to
+me."
+
+"Poor dear Roderick, I should hardly take you as the highest example of
+the _Zeitgeist;_ but I won't allow you to call yourself stupid. I'm
+glad you like the swing of the verse. Did it remind you of any
+contemporary poet?"
+
+"Well, yes, I think it dimly suggested Browning."
+
+"I am glad of that. I would not for worlds be an imitator; but Browning
+is my idol among poets."
+
+"Some of his minor pieces are awfully jolly," said the incorrigible
+Rorie. "That little poem called 'Youth and Art,' for instance. And
+'James Lee's Wife' is rather nice, if one could quite get at what it
+means. But I suppose that is too much to expect from any great poet?"
+
+"There are deeper meanings beneath the surface--meanings which require
+study," replied Mabel condescendingly. "Those are the religion of
+poetry----"
+
+"No doubt," assented Rorie hastily; "but frankly, my dear Mabel, if you
+want your book to be popular----"
+
+"I don't want my book to be popular. Browning is not popular. If I had
+wanted to be popular, I should have worked on a lower level. I would
+even have stooped to write a novel."
+
+"Well then I will say, if you want your poem to be understood by the
+average intellect, I really would sink the scientific terminology, and
+throw overboard a good deal of the metaphysics. Byron has not a
+scientific or technical phrase in all his poems."
+
+"My dear Roderick, you surely would not compare me to Byron, the poet
+of the Philistines. You might as well compare me with the author of
+'Lalla Rookh,' or advise me to write like Rogers or Campbell."
+
+"I beg your pardon, my dear Mabel. I'm afraid I must be an out and out
+Philistine, for to my mind Byron is the prince of poets. I would rather
+have written 'The Giaour' than anything that has ever been published
+since it appeared."
+
+"My poor Roderick!" exclaimed Mabel, with a pitying sigh. "You might as
+well say you would be proud of having written 'The Pickwick Papers'."
+
+"And so I should!" cried Rorie heartily. "I should think no end of
+myself if I had invented Winkle. Do you remember his ride from
+Rochester to Dingley Dell?--one of the finest things that was ever
+written."
+
+And this incorrigible young man flung himself back in the low
+arm-chair, and laughed heartily at the mere recollection of that
+episode in the life of the famous Nathaniel. Mabel Ashbourne closed her
+manuscript volume with a sigh, and registered an oath that she would
+never read any more of her poetry to Roderick Vawdrey. It was quite
+useless. The poor young man meant well, but he was incorrigibly
+stupid--a man who admired Byron and Dickens, and believed Macaulay the
+first of historians.
+
+"In the realm of thought we must dwell apart all our lives," Mabel told
+herself despairingly.
+
+"The horses are ordered for five," she said, as she locked the precious
+volume in her desk; "will you get yours and come back for me?"
+
+"I shall be delighted," answered her lover, relieved at being let off
+so easily.
+
+It was about this time that Lord Mallow, who was working with all his
+might for the regeneration of his country, made a great hit in the
+House by his speech on the Irish land question. He had been doing
+wonderful things in Dublin during the winter, holding forth to
+patriotic assemblies in the Round Room of the Rotunda, boldly declaring
+himself a champion of the Home Rulers' cause, demanding Repeal and
+nothing but Repeal. He was one of the few Repealers who had a stake in
+the country, and who was likely to lose by the disruption of social
+order. If foolish, he was at least disinterested, and had the courage
+of his opinions. This was in the days when Mr. Gladstone was Prime
+Minister, and when Irish Radicals looked to him as the one man who
+could and would give them Home Rule.
+
+In the House of Commons Lord Mallow was not ashamed to repeat the
+arguments he had used in the Round Room. If his language was less
+vehement at Westminster than it had been in Dublin, his opinions were
+no less thorough. He had his party here, as well as on the other side
+of the Irish Channel; and his party applauded him. Here was a statesman
+and a landowner willing to give an ell, where Mr. Gladstone's Land Act
+gave only an inch. Hibernian newspapers sung his praises in glowing
+words, comparing him to Burke, Curran, and O'Connell. He had for some
+time been a small lion at evening parties; he now began to be lionised
+at serious dinners. He was thought much of in Carlton Gardens, and his
+name figured at official banquets in Downing Street. The Duchess of
+Dovedale considered it a nice trait in his character that, although he
+was so much in request, and worked so hard in the House, he never
+missed one of her Thursday evenings. Even when there was an important
+debate on he would tear up Birdcage Walk in a hansom, and spend an hour
+in the Duchess's amber drawing-rooms, enlightening Lady Mabel as to the
+latest aspect of the Policy of Conciliation, or standing by the piano
+while she played Chopin.
+
+Lord Mallow had never forgotten his delight at finding a young lady
+thoroughly acquainted with the history of his native land, thoroughly
+interested in Erin's struggles and Erin's hopes; a young lady who knew
+all about the Protestants of Ulster, and what was meant by Fixity of
+Tenure. He came to Lady Mabel naturally in his triumphs, and he came to
+her in his disappointments. She was pleased and flattered by his faith
+in her wisdom, and was always ready to lend a gracious ear. She, whose
+soul was full of ambition, was deeply interested in the career of an
+ambitious young man--a man who had every excuse for being shallow and
+idle, and yet was neither.
+
+"If Roderick were only like him there would be nothing wanting in my
+life," she thought regretfully. "I should have felt much a pride in a
+husband's fame, I should have worked so gladly to assist him in his
+career. The driest blue-books would not have been too weary for me--the
+dullest drudgery of parliamentary detail would have been pleasant work,
+if it could have helped him in his progress to political distinctions."
+
+One evening, when Mabel and Lord Mallow were standing in the embrasure
+of a window, walled in by the crowd of aristocratic nobodies and
+intellectual eccentricities, talking earnestly of poor Erin and her
+chances of ultimate happiness, the lady, almost unawares, quoted a
+couplet of her own which seemed peculiarly applicable to the argument.
+
+"Whose lines are those?" Lord Mallow asked eagerly; "I never heard them
+before."
+
+Mabel blushed like a schoolgirl detected in sending a valentine.
+
+"Upon my soul," cried the Irishman, "I believe they are your own! Yes,
+I am sure of it. You, whose mind is so high above the common level,
+must sometimes express yourself in poetry. They are yours, are they
+not?"
+
+"Can you keep a secret?" Lady Mabel asked shyly.
+
+"For you? Yes, on the rack. Wild horses should not tear it out of my
+heart; boiling lead, falling on me drop by drop, should not extort it
+from me."
+
+"The lines are mine. I have written a good deal--in verse. I am going
+to publish a volume, anonymously, before the season is over. It is
+quite a secret. No one--except mamma and papa, and Mr. Vawdrey--knows
+anything about it."
+
+"How proud they--how especially proud Mr. Vawdrey must be of your
+genius," said Lord Mallow. "What a lucky fellow he is."
+
+He was thinking just at that moment of Violet Tempest, to whose secret
+preference for Roderick Vawdrey he attributed his own rejection. And
+now here--where again he might have found the fair ideal of his
+youthful dreams--here where he might have hoped to form an alliance at
+once socially and politically advantageous--this young Hampshire's
+squire was before him.
+
+"I don't think Mr. Vawdrey is particularly interested in my poetical
+efforts," Lady Mabel said with assumed carelessness. "He doesn't care
+for poetry. He likes Byron."
+
+"What an admirable epigram!" cried the Hibernian, to whom flattery was
+second nature. "I shall put that down in my commonplace book when I go
+home. How I wish you would honour me--but it is to ask too much,
+perhaps--how proud I should be if you would let me hear, or see, some
+of your poems."
+
+"Would you really like----?" faltered Lady Mabel.
+
+"Like! I should deem it the highest privilege your friendship could
+vouchsafe."
+
+"If I felt sure it would not bore you, I should like much to have your
+opinion, your candid opinion," (Lord Mallow tried to look the essense
+of candour) "upon some things I have written. But it would be really to
+impose too much upon your good-nature."
+
+"It would be to make me the proudest, and--for that one brief hour at
+least--the happiest of men," protested Lord Mallow, looking intensely
+sentimental.
+
+"And you will deal frankly with me? You will not flatter? You will be
+as severe as an Edinburgh reviewer?"
+
+"I will be positively brutal," said Lord Mallow. "I will try to imagine
+myself an elderly feminine contributor to the 'Saturday,' looking at
+you with vinegar gaze through a pair of spectacles, bent upon spotting
+every fleck and flaw in your work, and predetermined not to see
+anything good in it."
+
+"Then I will trust you!" cried Lady Mabel, with a gush. "I have longed
+for a listener who could understand and criticise, and who would be too
+honourable to flatter. I will trust you, as Marguerite of Valois
+trusted Clement Marot."
+
+Lord Mallow did not know anything about the French poet and his royal
+mistress, but he contrived to look as if he did. And, before he ran
+away to the House presently, he gave Lady Mabel's hand a tender little
+pressure which she accepted in all good faith as a sign manual of the
+compact between them.
+
+They met in the Row next morning, and Lord Mallow asked--as earnestly
+as if the answer involved vital issues--when he might be permitted to
+hear those interesting poems.
+
+"Whenever you can spare time to listen," answered Lady Mabel, more
+flattered by his earnestness than by all the adulatory nigar-plums
+which had been showered upon her since her _début_. "If you have
+nothing better to do this afternoon----"
+
+"Could I have anything better to do?"
+
+"We won't enter upon so wide a question," said Lady Mabel, laughing
+prettily. "If committee-rooms and public affairs can spare you for an
+hour or two, come to tea with mamma at five. I'll get her to deny
+herself to all the rest of the world, and we can have an undisturbed
+hour in which you can deal severely with my poor little efforts."
+
+Thus it happened that, in the sweet spring weather, while Roderick was
+on the stand at Epsom, watching the City and Suburban winner pursue his
+meteor course along the close-cropped sward, Lord Mallow was sitting at
+ease in a flowery fauteuil in the Queen Anne morning-room at
+Kensington, sipping orange-scented tea out of eggshell porcelain, and
+listening to Lady Mabel's dulcet accents, as she somewhat monotonously
+and inexpressively rehearsed "The Tragedy of a Sceptic Soul."
+
+The poem was long, and, sooth to say, passing dreary; and, much as he
+admired the Duke's daughter, there were moments when Lord Mallow felt
+his eyelids drooping, and heard a buzzing, as of summer insects, in his
+ears.
+
+There was no point of interest in all this rhythmical meandering
+whereon the hapless young nobleman could fix his attention. Another
+minute and his sceptic soul would be wandering at ease in the flowery
+fields of sleep. He pulled himself together with an effort, just as the
+eggshell cup and saucer were slipping from his relaxing grasp. He asked
+the Duchess for another cup of that delicious tea. He gazed resolutely
+at the fair-faced maiden, whose rosy lips moved graciously, discoursing
+shallowest platitudes clothed in erudite polysyllables, and then at the
+first pause--when Lady Mabel laid down her velvet-bound volume, and
+looked timidly upward for his opinion--Lord Mallow poured forth a
+torrent of eloquence, such as he always had in stock, and praised "The
+Sceptic Soul" as no poem and no poet had ever been praised before, save
+by Hibernian critic.
+
+The richness, the melody, the depth, colour, brilliance, tone, variety,
+far-reaching thought, &c., &c., &c.
+
+He was so grateful to Providence for having escaped falling asleep that
+he could have gone on for ever in this strain. But if anyone had asked
+Lord Mallow what "The Tragedy of a Sceptic Soul" was about, Lord Mallow
+would have been spun.
+
+When a strong-minded woman is weak upon one particular point she is apt
+to be very weak. Lady Mabel's weakness was to fancy herself a second
+Browning. She had never yet enjoyed the bliss of having her own idea of
+herself confirmed by independent evidence. Her soul thrilled as Lord
+Mallow poured forth his praises; talking of "The Book and the Ring,"
+and "Paracelsus," and a great deal more, of which he knew very little,
+and seeing in the expression of Lady Mabel's eyes and mouth that he was
+saying exactly the right thing, and could hardly say too much.
+
+They were _tête-à-tête_ by this time, for the Duchess was sleeping
+frankly, her crewel-work drooping from the hands that lay idle in her
+lap; her second cup of tea on the table beside her, half-finished.
+
+"I don't know how it is," she was wont to say apologetically, after
+these placid slumbers. "There is something in Mabel's voice that always
+sends me to sleep. Her tones are so musical."
+
+"And do you really advise me to publish?" asked Lady Mabel, fluttered
+and happy.
+
+"It would be a sin to keep such verses hidden from the world."
+
+"They will be published anonymously, of course. I could not endure to
+be pointed at as the author of 'The Sceptic Soul.' To feel that every
+eye was upon me--at the opera--in the Row--everywhere! It would be too
+dreadful. I should be proud to know that I had influenced my age--given
+a new bent to thought--but no one must be able to point at me."
+
+"'Thou canst not say I did it,'" quoted Lord Mallow. "I entirely
+appreciate your feelings. Publicity of that sort must be revolting to a
+delicate mind. I should think Byron would have enjoyed life a great
+deal better if he had never been known as the author of 'Childe
+Harold.' He reduced himself to a social play-actor--and always had to
+pose in his particular rôle--the Noble Poet. If Bacon really wrote the
+plays we call Shakespeare's, and kept the secret all his life, he was
+indeed the wisest of mankind."
+
+"You have done nothing but praise me," said Lady Mabel, after a
+thoughtful pause, during which she had trifled with the golden clasp of
+her volume; "I want you to do something more than that. I want you to
+advise--to tell me where I am redundant--to point out where I am weak.
+I want you to help me in the labour of polishing."
+
+Lord Mallow pulled his whisker doubtfully. This was dreadful. He should
+have to go into particulars presently, to say what lines pleased him
+best, which of the various meters into which the tragedy was broken
+up--like a new suburb into squares and crescents and streets--seemed to
+him happiest and most original.
+
+"Can you trust me with that precious volume?" he asked. "If you can, I
+will spend the quiet hours of the night in pondering over its pages,
+and will give you the result of my meditations to-morrow."
+
+Mabel put the book into his hand with a grateful smile.
+
+"Pray be frank with me," she pleaded. "Praise like yours is perilous."
+
+Lord Mallow kissed her hand this time, instead of merely pressing it,
+and went away radiant, with the velvet-bound book under his arm.
+
+"She's a sweet girl," he said to himself, as he hailed a cab. "I wish
+she wasn't engaged to that Hampshire booby, and I wish she didn't write
+poetry. Hard that I should have to do the Hampshire booby's work! If I
+were to leave this book in a hansom now--there'd be an awful situation!"
+
+Happily for the rising statesman, he was blest with a clever young
+secretary, who wrote a good many letters for him, read blue-books, got
+up statistics, and interviewed obtrusive visitors from the Green Isle.
+To this young student Lord Mallow, in strictest secrecy, confided Lady
+Mabel's manuscript.
+
+"Read it carefully, Allan, while I'm at the house, and make a note of
+everything that's bad on one sheet of paper, and of everything that's
+good on another. You may just run your pencil along the margin wherever
+you think I might write 'divine!' 'grandly original!' 'what pathos!' or
+anything of that sort."
+
+The secretary was a conscientious young man, and did his work nobly. He
+sat far into the small hours, ploughing through "The Sceptic Soul." It
+was tough work; but Mr. Allan was Scotch and dogged, and prided himself
+upon his critical faculty. This autopsy of a fine lady's poem was a
+congenial labour. He scribbled pages of criticism, went into the
+minutest details of style, found a great deal to blame and not much to
+praise, and gave his employer a complete digest of the poem before
+breakfast next morning.
+
+Lord Mallow attended the Duchess's kettledrum again that afternoon, and
+this time he was in no wise at sea. He handled "The Sceptic Soul" as if
+every line of it had been engraven on the tablet of his mind.
+
+"See here now," he cried, turning to a pencilled margin; "I call this a
+remarkable passage, yet I think it might be strengthened by some
+trifling excisions;" and then he showed Lady Mabel how, by pruning
+twenty lines off a passage of thirty-one, a much finer effect might be
+attained.
+
+"And you really think my thought stands out more clearly?" asked Mabel,
+looking regretfully at the lines through which Lord Mallow had run his
+pencil--some of her finest lines.
+
+"I am sure of it. That grand idea of yours was like a star in a hazy
+sky. We have cleared away the fog."
+
+Lady Mabel sighed. "To me the meaning of the whole passage seemed so
+obvious," she said.
+
+"Because it was your own thought. A mother knows her own children
+however they are dressed."
+
+This second tea-drinking was a very serious affair. Lord Mallow went at
+the poem like a professional reviewer, and criticised without mercy,
+yet contrived not to wound the author's vanity.
+
+"It is because you have real genius that I venture to be brutally
+candid," he said, when, by those slap-dash pencil-marks of his--always
+with the author's consent--he had reduced the "Tragedy of the Sceptic
+Soul" to about one-third of its original length. "I was carried away
+yesterday by my first impressions; to-day I am coldly critical. I have
+set my heart upon your poem making a great success."
+
+This last sentence, freely translated, might be taken to mean: "I
+should not like such an elegant young woman to make an utter fool of
+herself."
+
+Mr. Vawdrey came in while critic and poet were at work, and was told
+what they were doing. He evinced no unworthy jealousy, but seemed glad
+that Lord Mallow should be so useful.
+
+"It's a very fine poem," he said, "but there's too much metaphysics in
+it. I told Mabel so the other day. She must alter a good deal of it if
+she wants to be understanded of the people."
+
+"My dear Roderick, my poem is metaphysical or it is nothing," Mabel
+answered pettishly.
+
+She could bear criticism from Lord Mallow better than criticism from
+Roderick. After this it became an established custom for Lord Mallow to
+drop in every day to inspect the progress of Lady Mabel's poems in the
+course of their preparation for the press. The business part of the
+matter had been delegated to him, as much more _au fait_ in such things
+than homely rustic Rorie. He chose the publisher and arranged the size
+of the volume, type, binding, initials, tail-pieces, every detail. The
+paper was to be thick and creamy, the type mediaeval, the borders were
+to be printed in carmine, the initials and tail-pieces specially drawn
+and engraved, and as quaint as the wood-cuts in an old edition of "_Le
+Lutrin_." The book was to have red edges, and a smooth gray linen
+binding with silver lettering. It was to be altogether a gem of
+typographic art, worthy of Firmin Didot.
+
+By the end of May, Lady Mabel's poems were all in type, and there was
+much discussion about commas and notes of admiration, syllables too
+much or too little, in the flowery morning-room at Kensington, what
+time Roderick Vawdrey--sorely at a loss for occupation--wasted the
+summer hours at races or regattas within easy reach of London, or went
+to out-of-the-way places, to look at hunters of wonderful repute,
+which, on inspection, were generally disappointing.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+Crumpled Rose-Leaves.
+
+Violet Tempest had been away from home nearly a year, and to the few
+old servants remaining at the Abbey House, and to the villagers who had
+known and loved her, it seemed as if a light had gone out.
+
+"It's like it was after the Squire's death, when miss and her ma was
+away," said one gossip to another; "the world seems empty."
+
+Mrs. Winstanley and her husband had been living as became people of
+some pretension to rank and fashion. They saw very little of each
+other, but were seen together on all fitting occasions. The morning
+service in the little church at Beechdale would not have seemed
+complete without those two figures. The faded beauty in trailing silken
+draperies and diaphanous bonnet, the slim, well-dressed Captain, with
+his bronzed face and black whiskers. They were in everybody's idea the
+happiest example of married bliss. If the lady's languid loveliness had
+faded more within the last year or so than in the ten years that went
+before it, if her slow step had grown slower, her white hand more
+transparent, there were no keen loving eyes to mark the change.
+
+"That affectation of valetudinarianism is growing on Mrs. Winstanley,"
+Mrs. Scobel said one day to her husband. "It is a pity. I believe the
+Captain encourages it."
+
+"She has not looked so well since Violet went away," answered the
+kindly parson. "It seems an unnatural thing for mother and daughter to
+be separated."
+
+"I don't know that, dear. The Bible says a man should leave mother and
+father and cleave to his wife. Poor Violet was a discordant element in
+that household. Mrs. Winstanley must feel much happier now she is away."
+
+"I can't tell how she feels," answered the Vicar doubtfully; "but she
+does not look so happy as she did when Violet was at home."
+
+"The fact is she gives way too much," exclaimed active little Mrs.
+Scobel, who had never given way in her life. "When she has a head-ache
+she lies in bed, and has the venetian blinds kept down, just as if she
+were dying. No wonder she looks pale and----"
+
+"Etiolated," said the Vicar; "perishing for want of light. But I
+believe it's moral sunshine that is wanted there, my dear Fanny, say
+what you will."
+
+Mr. Scobel was correct in his judgment. Pamela Winstanley was a most
+unhappy woman--an unhappy woman without one tangible cause of
+complaint. True that her daughter was banished; but she was banished
+with the mother's full consent. Her personal extravagances had been
+curtailed; but she was fain to admit that the curtailment was wise,
+necessary, and for her own future benefit. Her husband was all
+kindness; and surely she could not be angry with him if he seemed to
+grow younger every day--rejuvenated by regular habits and rustic
+life--while in her wan face the lines of care daily deepened, until it
+would have needed art far beyond the power of any modern Medea to
+conceal Time's ravages. Your modern Medeas are such poor
+creatures--loathsome as Horace's Canidia, but without her genius or her
+power.
+
+"I am getting an old woman," sighed Mrs. Winstanley. "It is lucky I am
+not without resources against solitude and age."
+
+Her resources were a tepid appreciation of modern idyllic poetry, as
+exemplified in the weaker poems of Tennyson, and the works of Adelaide
+Proctor and Jean Ingelow, a talent for embroidering conventional
+foliage and flowers on kitchen towelling, and for the laborious
+conversion of Nottingham braid into Venetian point-lace.
+
+She had taken it into her head of late to withdraw herself altogether
+from society, save from such friends who liked her well enough, or were
+sufficiently perplexed as to the disposal of their lives, to waste an
+occasional hour over gossip and orange pekoe. She had now permanently
+assumed that _rôle_ of an invalid which she had always somewhat
+affected.
+
+"I am really not well enough to go to dinner-parties, Conrad," she
+said, when her husband politely argued against her refusal of an
+invitation, with just that mild entreaty which too plainly means, "I
+don't care a jot whether you go with me or stay at home."
+
+"But, my dear Pamela, a little gaiety would give you a fillip."
+
+"No, it would not, Conrad. It would worry me to go to Lady Ellangowan's
+in one of last season's dresses; and I quite agree with you that I must
+spend no more money with Theodore."
+
+"Why not wear your black velvet?"
+
+"Too obvious a _pis aller_. I have not enough diamonds to carry off
+black velvet."
+
+"But your fine old lace--rose-point, I think you call it--surely that
+would carry off black velvet for once in a way."
+
+"My dear Conrad, Lady Ellangowan knows my rose-point by heart. She
+always compliments me about it--an artful way of letting me know often
+she has seen it. 'Oh there is that rose-point of yours, dear Mrs.
+Winstanley; it is too lovely.' I know her! No, Conrad; I will not go to
+the Ellangowans in a dress made last year; or in any _réchauffé_ of
+velvet and lace. I hope I have a proper pride that would always
+preserve me from humiliation of that kind. Besides, I am not strong
+enough to go to parties. You may not believe me, Conrad, but I am
+really ill."
+
+The Captain put on an unhappy look, and murmured something sympathetic:
+but he did not believe in the reality of his wife's ailments. She had
+played the invalid more or less ever since their marriage; and he had
+grown accustomed to the assumption as a part of his wife's daily
+existence--a mere idiosyncrasy, like her love of fine dress and strong
+tea. If at dinner she ate hardly enough for a bird, he concluded that
+she had spoiled her appetite at luncheon, or by the consumption of
+sweet biscuits and pound-cake at five o'clock. Her refusal of all
+invitations to dinners and garden-parties he attributed to her folly
+about dress, and to that alone. Those other reasons which she put
+forward--of weakness, languor, low spirits--were to Captain
+Winstanley's mind mere disguises for temper. She had not, in her heart
+of hearts, forgiven him for closing Madame Theodore's account.
+
+Thus, wilfully blind to a truth which was soon to become obvious to all
+the world, he let the insidious foe steal across his threshold, and
+guessed not how soon that dark and hidden enemy was to drive him from
+the hearth by which he sat, secure in self-approval and sagacious
+schemes for the future.
+
+Once a week, through all the long year, there had come a dutiful letter
+from Violet to her mother. The letters were often brief--what could the
+girl find to tell in her desert island?--but they were always kind, and
+they were a source of comfort to the mother's empty heart. Mrs.
+Winstanley answered unfailingly, and her Jersey letter was one of the
+chief events of each week. She was fonder of her daughter at a distance
+than she had ever been when they were together. "That will be something
+to tell Violet," she would say of any inane bit of gossip that was
+whispered across the afternoon tea-cups.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+A Fool's Paradise.
+
+At Ashbourne preparations had already begun for the wedding in August.
+It was to be a wedding worthy of a duke's only daughter, the well-beloved
+and cherished child of an adoring father and mother. Kinsfolk and old
+friends were coming from far and wide to assist at the ceremony, for
+whom temporary rooms were to be arranged in all manner of places. The
+Duchess's exquisite dairy was to be transformed into a bachelor
+dormitory. Lodges and gamekeepers' cottages were utilised. Every nook
+and corner in the ducal mansion would be full.
+
+"Why not rig up a few hammocks in the nearest pine plantation?" Rorie
+asked, laughing, when he heard of all these doings. "One couldn't have
+a better place to sleep on a sultry summer night."
+
+There was to be a ball for the tenantry in the evening of the
+wedding-day, in a marquee on the lawn. The gardens were to be
+illuminated in a style worthy of the château of Vaux, when Fouquet was
+squandering a nation's revenues on lamps and fountains and venal
+friends. Lady Mabel protested against all this fuss.
+
+"Dear mamma, I would so much rather have been married quietly,' she
+said.
+
+"My dearest, it is all your papa's doing. He is so proud of you. And
+then we have only one daughter; and she is not likely to be married
+more than once, I hope. Why should we not have all our friends round us
+at such a time?"
+
+Mabel shrugged her shoulders, with an air of repugnance to all the
+friends and all the fuss.
+
+"Marriage is such a solemn act of one's life," she said. "It seems
+dreadful that it should be performed in the midst of a gaping,
+indifferent crowd."
+
+"My love, there will not be a creature present who can feel indifferent
+about your welfare," protested the devoted mother. "If our dear
+Roderick had been a more distinguished person, your papa would have had
+you married in Westminster Abbey. There of course there would have been
+a crowd of idle spectators."
+
+"Poor Roderick," sighed Mabel. "It is a pity he is so utterly aimless.
+He might have made a career for himself by this time, if he had chosen."
+
+"He will do something by-and-by, I daresay," said the Duchess,
+excusingly. "You will be able to mould him as you like, pet."
+
+"I have not found him particularly malleable hitherto," said Mabel.
+
+The bride elect was out of spirits, and inclined to look despondently
+upon life. She was suffering the bitter pain of disappointed hopes.
+"The Tragedy of a Sceptic Soul," despite its depth of thought, its
+exquisite typography and vellum-like paper, had been a dire and
+irredeemable failure. The reviewers had ground the poor little
+aristocratic butterfly to powder upon the wheel of ridicule. They had
+anatomised Lady Mabel's involved sentences, and laughed at her erudite
+phrases. Her mild adaptations of Greek thought and fancy had been found
+out, and held up to contempt. Her petty plagiarisms from French and
+German poets had been traced to their source. The whole work, so smooth
+and neatly polished on the outside, had been turned the seamy side
+without, and the knots and flaws and ravelled threads had been exposed
+without pity.
+
+Happily the book was anonymous: but Mabel writhed under the criticism.
+There was the crushing disappointment of expectations that had soared
+high as the topmost throne on Parnassus. She had a long way to descend.
+And then there was the sickening certainty that in the eyes of her own
+small circle she had made herself ridiculous. Her mother took those
+cruel reviews to heart, and wept over them. The Duke, a coarse-minded
+man, at best, with a soul hardly above guano and chemical composts,
+laughed aloud at his poor little girl's failure.
+
+"It's a sad disappointment, I daresay," he said, "but never mind, my
+pet, you'll do better next time, I've no doubt. Or if you don't, it
+doesn't much matter. Other people have fancied themselves poets, and
+have been deceived, before to-day."
+
+"Those horrid reviewers don't understand her poetry," protested the
+Duchess, who would have been hard pushed to comprehend it herself, but
+who thought it was a critic's business to understand everything.
+
+"I'm afraid I have written above their heads," Lady Mabel said
+piteously.
+
+Roderick Vawdrey was worst of all.
+
+"Didn't I tell you 'The Sceptic Soul' was too fine for ordinary
+intellects, Mab?" he said. "You lost yourself in an ocean of obscurity.
+You knew what you meant, but there's no man alive who could follow you.
+You ought to have remembered Voltaire's definition of a metaphysical
+discussion, a conversation in which the man who is talked to doesn't
+understand the man who talks, and the man who talks doesn't understand
+himself. You must take a simpler subject and use plainer English if you
+want to please the multitude."
+
+Mabel had told her lover before that she did not aspire to please the
+multitude, that she would have esteemed such cheap and tawdry success a
+humiliating failure. It was almost better not to be read at all than to
+be appreciated only by the average Mudie subscriber. But she would have
+liked someone to read her poems. She would have liked critics to praise
+and understand her. She would have liked to have her own small world of
+admirers, an esoteric few, the salt of the earth, literary Essenes,
+holding themselves apart from the vulgar herd. It was dreadful to find
+herself on a height as lonely as one of those plateaux in the Tyrolean
+Alps where the cattle crop a scanty herbage in summer, and where the
+Ice King reigns alone through the long winter.
+
+"You are mistaken, Roderick," Mabel said with chilling dignity; "I have
+friends who can understand and admire my poetry, incomprehensible and
+uninteresting as it may be to you."
+
+"Dear Mabel, I never said it was uninteresting," Roderick cried humbly;
+"everything you do must be interesting to me. But I frankly own I do
+not understand your verses as clearly as I think all verse should be
+understood. Why should I keep all my frankness till after the first of
+August? Why should the lover be less sincere than the husband? I will
+be truthful even at the risk of offending you."
+
+"Pray do," cried Mabel, with ill-suppressed irritation. "Sincerity is
+such a delightful thing. No doubt my critics are sincere. They give me
+the honest undisguised truth."
+
+Rorie saw that his betrothed's literary failure was a subject to be
+carefully avoided in future.
+
+"My poor Vixen," he said to himself, with oh! what deep regret,
+"perhaps it was not one of the least of your charms that you never
+wrote poetry."
+
+Lord Mallow was coming to Ashbourne for the fortnight before the
+wedding. He had made himself wondrously agreeable to the Duke, and the
+Duke had invited him. The House would be up by that time. It was a
+delightful season for the Forest. The heather would be in bloom on all
+the open heights, the glades of Mark Ash would be a solemn world of
+greenery and shadow, a delicious place for picnics, flirtation, and
+gipsy tea-drinkings. Lord Mallow had only seen the Forest in the
+winter. It would be a grand opportunity for him.
+
+He came, and Lady Mabel received him with a sad sweet smile. The
+reviews had all appeared by this time: and, except in the _West
+Dulmarsh Gazette_ and the _Ratdiff Highway Register_, there had not
+been one favourable notice.
+
+"There is a dreadful unanimity about my critics, is there not?" said
+the stricken poetess, when she and Lord Mallow found themselves alone
+together in one of the orchid-houses, breathing a perfumed atmosphere
+at eighty degrees, vaporous, balmy, slumberous.
+
+"You have made a tremendous mistake, Lady Mabel," said Lord Mallow.
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"You have given the world your great book without first educating your
+public to receive and understand it. If Browning had done the same
+thing--if Browning had burst at once upon the world with 'The Ring and
+the Book' he would have been as great a failure as--as--you at present
+imagine yourself to be. You should have sent forth something smaller.
+You should have made the reading world familiar with a style, too
+original, and of too large a power and scope, to please quickly. A
+volume of ballads and idyls--a short story in simple verse--would have
+prepared the way for your dramatic poem. Suppose Goethe had begun his
+literary career with the second part of 'Faust'! He was too wise for
+that, and wrote himself into popularity with a claptrap novel."
+
+"I could not write a claptrap novel, or claptrap verses," sighed Lady
+Mabel. "If I cannot soar above the clouds, I will never spread my poor
+little wings again."
+
+"Then you must be content to accept your failure as an evidence of the
+tendencies of an essentially Philistine age--an age in which people
+admire Brown, and Jones, and Robinson."
+
+Here Lord Mallow gave a string of names, sacrificing the most famous
+reputations of the age to Mabel Ashbourne's vanity.
+
+This brief conversation in the orchid-house was the first healing balm
+that had been applied to the bleeding heart of the poetess. She was
+deeply grateful to Lord Mallow. This was indeed sympathy. How different
+from Roderick's clumsy advice and obtrusive affectation of candour.
+Mabel determined that she would do her best to make Lord Mallow's visit
+pleasant. She gave him a good deal of her society, in fact all she
+could spare from Roderick, who was not an exacting lover. They were so
+soon to be married that really there was no occasion for them to be
+greedy of _tête-à-tête_ companionship. They would have enough of each
+other's company among the Norwegian fjords.
+
+Lord Mallow did not care about riding under an almost tropical sun, nor
+did he care to expose his horse to the exasperating attacks of
+forest-flies; so he went about with the Duchess and her daughter in
+Lady Mabel's pony carriage--he saw schools and cottages--and told the
+two ladies all the grand things he meant to do on his Irish estate when
+he had leisure to do them.
+
+"You must wait till you are married," said the Duchess good-naturedly.
+"Ladies understand these details so much better than gentlemen. Mabel
+more than half planned those cottages you admired just now. She took
+the drawings out of the architect's hands, and altered them according
+to her own taste."
+
+"And as a natural result, the cottages are perfection!" exclaimed Lord
+Mallow.
+
+That visit to Ashbourne was one of the most memorable periods in Lord
+Mallow's life. He was an impressible young man, and he had been
+unconsciously falling deeper in love with Lady Mabel every day during
+the last three months. Her delicate beauty, her culture, her elegance,
+her rank, all charmed and fascinated him; but her sympathy with Erin
+was irresistible. It was not the first time that he had been in love,
+by a great many times. The list of the idols he had worshipped
+stretched backwards to the dim remoteness of boyhood. But to-day,
+awakening all at once to a keen perception of his hapless state, he
+told himself that he had never loved before as he loved now.
+
+He had been hard hit by Miss Tempest. Yes, he acknowledged that past
+weakness. He had thought her fairest and most delightful among women,
+and he had left the Abbey House dejected and undone. But he had quickly
+recovered from the brief fever: and now, reverentially admiring Lady
+Mabel's prim propriety, he wondered that he could have ever seriously
+offered himself to a girl of Vixen's undisciplined and unbroken
+character.
+
+"I should have been a miserable man by this time if she had accepted
+me," he thought. "She did not care a straw about the People of Ireland."
+
+He was deeply, hopelessly, irrecoverably in love; and the lady he loved
+was to be married to another man in less than a week. The situation was
+too awful. What could such a woman as Mabel Ashbourne see in such a man
+as Roderick Vawdrey. That is a kind of question which has been asked
+very often in the history of men and women. Lord Mallow could find no
+satisfactory answer thereto. Mr. Vawdrey was well enough in his way--he
+was good-looking, sufficiently well-bred; he rode well, was a
+first-rate shot, and could give an average player odds at billiards.
+Surely these were small claims to the love of a tenth muse, a rarely
+accomplished and perfect woman. If Lord Mallow, in his heart of hearts,
+thought no great things of Lady Mabel's poetic effusions, he not the
+less respected her for the effort, the high-souled endeavour. A woman
+who could read Euripides, who knew all that was best in modern
+literature, was a woman for a husband to be proud of.
+
+In this desperate and for the most part unsuspected condition of mind,
+Lord Mallow hung upon Lady Mabel's footsteps during the days
+immediately before the wedding. Roderick was superintending the
+alterations at Briarwood, which were being carried on upon rather an
+extravagant scale, to make the mansion worthy of the bride. Lord Mallow
+was always at hand, in the orchid-houses, carrying scissors and
+adjusting the hose, in the library, in the gardens, in the boudoir. He
+was drinking greedily of the sweet poison. This fool's paradise of a
+few days must end in darkness, desolation, despair--everything dreadful
+beginning with _d;_ but the paradise was so delicious an abode that
+although an angel with a flaming sword, in the shape of conscience, was
+always standing at the gate, Lord Mallow would not be thrust out. He
+remained; in defiance of conscience, and honour, and all those good
+sentiments that should have counselled his speedy departure.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+"It might have been."
+
+"They are the most curious pair of lovers I ever saw in my life," said
+one of the visitors at Ashbourne, a young lady who had been engaged to
+be married more than once, and might fairly consider herself an
+authority upon such matters. "One never sees them together."
+
+"They are cousins," replied her companion. "What can you expect from a
+courtship between cousins? It must be the most humdrum affair possible."
+
+"All courtships are humdrum, unless there is opposition from parents,
+or something out of the common order to enliven them," said somebody
+else.
+
+The speakers were a party of young ladies, who were getting through an
+idle hour after breakfast in the billiard-room.
+
+"Lady Mabel is just the sort of girl no man could be desperately in
+love with," said another. "She is very pretty, and elegant, and
+accomplished, and all that sort of thing--but she is so overpoweringly
+well satisfied with herself that it seems superfluous for anyone to
+admire her.'
+
+"In spite of that I know of someone in this house who does immensely
+admire her," asserted the young lady who had spoken first. "Much more
+than I should approve if I were Mr. Vawdrey."
+
+"I think I know----" began somebody, and then abruptly remarked: "What
+a too ridiculous stroke! And I really thought I was going to make a
+cannon."
+
+This sudden change in the current of the talk was due to the appearance
+of the subject of this friendly disquisition. Lady Mabel had that
+moment entered, followed by Lord Mallow, not intent on billiards, like
+the frivolous damsels assembled round the table. There were book-cases
+all along one side of the billiard-room, containing the surplus books
+that had overrun the shelves in the library; and Mabel had come to look
+for a particular volume among these. It was a treatise upon the
+antiquities of Ireland. Lord Mallow and Lady Mabel had been disputing
+about the Round Towers.
+
+"Of course you are right," said the Irishman, when she had triumphantly
+exhibited a page which supported her side of the argument. "What a
+wonderful memory you have! What a wife you would make for a statesman!
+You would be worth half-a-dozen secretaries!"
+
+Mabel blushed, and smiled faintly, with lowered eyelids.
+
+"Do you remember that concluding picture in 'My Novel,'" she asked,
+"where Violante tempts Harley Lestrange from his idle musing over
+Horace, to toil through blue-books; and, when she is stealing softly
+from the room, he detains her and bids her copy an extract for him? 'Do
+you think I would go through this labour,' he says, 'if you were not to
+halve this success? Halve the labour as well.' I have always envied
+Violante that moment in her life."
+
+"And who would not envy Harley such a wife as Violante," returned Lord
+Mallow, "if she was like--the woman I picture her?"
+
+Three hours later Lord Mallow and Lady Mabel met by accident in the
+garden. It was an afternoon of breathless heat and golden sunlight, the
+blue ether without a cloud--a day on which the most restless spirit
+might be content to yield to the drowsiness of the atmosphere, and lie
+at ease upon the sunburnt grass and bask in the glory of summer. Lord
+Mallow had never felt so idle, in the whole course of his vigorous
+young life.
+
+"I don't know what has come to me," he said to himself; "I can't settle
+to any kind of work; and I don't care a straw for sight-seeing with a
+pack of nonentities."
+
+A party had gone off in a drag, soon after breakfast, to see some
+distant ruins; and Lord Mallow had refused to be of that party, though
+it included some of the prettiest girls at Ashbourne. He had stayed at
+home, on pretence of writing important letters, but had not, so far,
+penned a line. "It must be the weather," said Lord Mallow.
+
+An hour or so after luncheon he strolled out into the gardens, having
+given up all idea of writing those letters, There was a wide lawn, that
+sloped from the terrace in front of the drawing-room windows, a lawn
+encircled by a belt of carefully-chosen timber. It was not very old
+timber, but it was sufficiently umbrageous. There were tulip-trees, and
+copper-beeches, and Douglas pines, and deodoras. There were shrubs of
+every kind, and winding paths under the trees, and rustic benches here
+and there to repose the wearied traveller.
+
+On one of these benches, placed in a delicious spot, shaded by a group
+of pines, commanding the wide view of valley and distant hill far away
+towards Ringwood, Lord Mallow found Lady Mabel seated reading. She was
+looking delightfully cool amidst the sultry heat of the scene,
+perfectly dressed in soft white muslin, with much adornment of delicate
+lace and pale-hued ribbon: but she was not looking happy. She was
+gazing at the open volume on her knee, with fixed and dreamy eyes that
+saw not the page; and as Lord Mallow came very near, with steps that
+made no sound on the fallen pine-needles, he saw that there were tears
+upon her drooping eyelids.
+
+There are moments in every man's life when impulse is stronger than
+discretion. Lord Mallow gave the reins to impulse now, and seated
+himself by Lady Mabel's side, and took her hand in his, with an air of
+sympathy so real that the lady forgot to be offended.
+
+"Forgive me for having surprised your tears," he murmured gently.
+
+"I am very foolish," she said, blushing deeply as she became aware of
+the hand clasping hers, and suddenly withdrawing her own; "but there
+are passages of Dante that are too pathetic."
+
+"Oh, it was Dante!" exclaimed Lord Mallow, with a disappointed air.
+
+He looked down at the page on her lap.
+
+"Yes, naturally."
+
+She had been reading about Paolo and Francesca--that one episode, in
+all the catalogue of sin and sorrow, which melts every heart; a page at
+which the volume seems to open of its own accord.
+
+Lord Mallow leaned down and read the lines in a low voice, slowly, with
+considerable feeling; and then he looked softly up at Mabel Ashbourne,
+and at the landscape lying below them, in all the glow and glory of the
+summer light, and looked back to the lady, with his hand still on the
+book.
+
+The strangeness of the situation: they two alone in the garden, unseen,
+unheard by human eye or ear; the open book between them--a subtle bond
+of union--hinting at forbidden passion.
+
+"They were deeply to be pitied," said Lord Mallow, meaning the guilty
+lovers.
+
+"It was very sad," murmured Lady Mabel.
+
+"But they were neither the first nor the last who have found out too
+late that they were created to be happy in each other's love, and had
+by an accident missed that supreme chance of happiness," said Lord
+Mallow, with veiled intention.
+
+Mabel sighed, and took the book from the gentleman's hand, and drew a
+little farther off on the bench. She was not the kind of young woman to
+yield tremblingly to the first whisper of an unauthorised love. It was
+all very well to admire Francesca, upon strictly aesthetic grounds, as
+the perfection of erring womanhood, beautiful even in her guilt.
+Francesca had lived so long ago--in days so entirely mediaeval, that
+one could afford to regard her with indulgent pity. But it was not to
+be supposed that a modern duke's daughter was going to follow that
+unfortunate young woman's example, and break plighted vows. Betrothal,
+in the eyes of so exalted a moralist as Lady Mabel, was a tie but one
+degree less sacred than marriage.
+
+"Why did you not go to see the ruins?" she asked, resuming her society
+tone.
+
+"Because I was in a humour in which ruins would have been unutterably
+odious. Indeed, Lady Mabel, I am just now very much of Macbeth's
+temper, when he began to be a-weary of the sun."
+
+"Has the result of the session disappointed you?"
+
+"Naturally. When was that ever otherwise? Parliament opens full of
+promise, like a young king who has just ascended the throne, and
+everybody is to be made happy; all burdens are to be lightened, the
+seeds of all good things that have been hidden deep in earth through
+the slow centuries are to germinate all at once, and blossom, and bear
+fruit. And the session comes to an end; and, lo! a great many good
+things have been talked about, and no good thing has been done. That is
+in the nature of things. No, Lady Mabel, it is not that which makes me
+unhappy."
+
+He waited for her to ask him what his trouble was, but she kept silence.
+
+"No," he repeated, "it is not that."
+
+Again there was no reply; and he went on awkwardly, like an actor who
+has missed his cue.
+
+"Since I have known you I have been at once too happy and too wretched.
+Happy--unspeakably happy in your society; miserable in the knowledge
+that I could never be more to you than an unit in the crowd."
+
+"You were a great deal more to me than that," said Mabel softly. She
+bad been on her guard against him just now, but when he thus abased
+himself before her she took pity upon him, and became dangerously
+amiable. "I shall never forget your kindness about those wretched
+verses."
+
+"I will not hear you speak ill of them," cried Lord Mallow indignantly.
+"You have but shared the common fate of genius, in having a mind in
+advance of your age."
+
+Lady Mabel breathed a gentle sigh of resignation.
+
+"I am not so weak as to think myself a genius," she murmured; "but I
+venture to hope my poor verses will be better understood twenty years
+hence than they are now."
+
+"Undoubtedly!" cried Lord Mallow, with conviction. "Look at Wordsworth;
+in his lifetime the general reading public considered him a prosy old
+gentleman, who twaddled pleasantly about lakes and mountains, and
+pretty little peasant girls. The world only awakened ten years ago to
+the fact of his being a great poet and a sublime philosopher; and I
+shouldn't be very much surprised," added Lord Mallow meditatively, "if
+in ten years more the world were to go to sleep again and forget him."
+
+Lady Mabel looked at her watch.
+
+"I think I will go in and give mamma her afternoon cup of tea," she
+said.
+
+"Don't go yet," pleaded Lord Mallow, "it is only four, and I know the
+Duchess does not take tea till five. Give me one of your last hours. A
+lady who is just going to be married is something like Socrates after
+his sentence. Her friends surround her; she is in their midst, smiling,
+serene, diffusing sweetness and light; but they know she is going from
+them--they are to lose her, yes, to lose her almost as utterly as if
+she were doomed to die."
+
+"That is taking a very dismal view of marriage," said Mabel, pale, and
+trifling nervously with her watch-chain.
+
+This was the first time Lord Mallow had spoken to her of the
+approaching event.
+
+"Is it not like death? Does it not bring change and parting to old
+friends? When you are Lady Mabel Vawdrey, can I ever be with you as I
+am now? You will have new interests, you will be shut in by a network
+of new ties. I shall come some morning to see you amidst your new
+surroundings, and shall find a stranger. My Lady Mabel will be dead and
+buried."
+
+There is no knowing how long Lord Mallow might have meandered on in
+this dismal strain, if he had not been seasonably interrupted by the
+arrival of Mr. Vawdrey, who came sauntering along the winding
+shrubbery-walk, with his favourite pointer Hecate at his heels. He
+advanced towards his betrothed at the leisurely pace of a man whose
+courtship is over, whose fate is sealed, and from whom society exacts
+nothing further, except a decent compliance with the arrangements other
+people make for him.
+
+He seemed in no wise disconcerted at finding his sweetheart and Lord
+Mallow seated side by side, alone, in that romantic and solitary spot.
+He pressed Mabel's hand kindly, and gave the Irishman a friendly nod.
+
+"What have you been doing with yourself all the morning, Roderick?"
+asked Lady Mabel, with that half-reproachful air which is almost the
+normal expression of a betrothed young lady in her converse with her
+lover.
+
+"Oh, pottering about at Briarwood. The workmen are such fools. I am
+making some slight alterations in the stables, on a plan of my
+own--putting in mangers, and racks, and pillars, and partitions, from
+the St. Pancras Ironworks, making sanitary improvements and so on--and
+I have to contend with so much idiocy in our local workmen. If I did
+not stand by and see drain-pipes put in and connections made, I believe
+the whole thing would go wrong."
+
+"It must be very dreadful for you," exclaimed Lady Mabel.
+
+"It must be intolerable!" cried Lord Mallow; "what, when the moments
+are golden, when 'Love takes up the glass of Time, and turns it in his
+glowing hands,' when 'Love takes up the harp of life, and smites on all
+the chords with might,' you have to devote your morning to watching the
+laying of drain-pipes and digging of sewers! I cannot imagine a more
+afflicted man."
+
+Lady Mabel saw the sneer, but her betrothed calmly ignored it.
+
+"Of course it's a nuisance," he said carelessly; "but I had rather be
+my own clerk of the works than have the whole thing botched. I thought
+you were going to Wellbrook Abbey with the house party, Mabel?"
+
+"I know every stone of the Abbey by heart. No, I have been dawdling
+about the grounds all the afternoon. It is much too warm for riding or
+driving."
+
+Lady Mabel strangled an incipient yawn. She had not yawned once in all
+her talk with Lord Mallow. Rorie stifled another, and Lord Mallow
+walked up and down among the pine-needles, like a caged lion. It would
+have been polite to leave the lovers to themselves, perhaps. They might
+have family matters to discuss, settlements, wedding presents, Heaven
+knows what. But Lord Mallow was not going to leave them alone. He was
+in a savage humour, in which the petty rules and regulations of a
+traditionary etiquette were as nothing to him. So he stayed, pacing
+restlessly, with his hands in his pockets, and inwardly delighted at
+the stupid spectacle presented by the affianced lovers, who had nothing
+to say to each other, and were evidently bored to the last degree by
+their own society.
+
+"This is the deplorable result of trying to ferment the small beer of
+cousinly affection into the Maronean wine of passionate love," thought
+Lord Mallow. "Idiotic parents have imagined that these two people ought
+to marry, because they were brought up together, and the little girl
+took kindly to the little boy. What little girl does not take kindly to
+anything in the shape of a boy, when they are both in the nursery?
+Hence these tears."
+
+"I am going to pour out mamma's tea," Lady Mabel said presently, keenly
+sensible of the stupidity of her position. "Will you come, Roderick?
+Mamma will be glad to know that you are alive. She was wondering about
+you all the time we were at luncheon."
+
+"I ought not to have been off duty so long," Mr. Vawdrey answered
+meekly; "but if you could only imagine the stupidity of those
+bricklayers! The day before yesterday I found half-a-dozen stalwart
+fellows sitting upon a wall, with their hands in their corduroy
+pockets, smoking short pipes, and, I believe, talking politics. They
+pretended to be at a standstill because their satellites--their _âmes
+damnées_, the men who hold their hods and mix their mortar--had not
+turned up. 'Don't disturb yourselves, gentlemen,' I said. 'There's
+nothing like taking things easy. It's a time-job. I'll send you the
+morning papers and a can of beer.' And so I did, and since that day, do
+you know, the fellows have worked twice as hard. They don't mind being
+bullied; but they can't stand chaff."
+
+"What an interesting bit of character," said Lady Mabel, with a faintly
+perceptible sneer. "Worthy of Henri Constant."
+
+"May I come to the Duchess's kettledrum?' asked Lord Mallow humbly.
+
+"By all means," answered Mabel. "How fond you gentlemen pretend to be
+of afternoon tea, nowadays. But I don't believe it is the tea you
+really care for. It is the gossip you all like. Darwin has found out
+that the male sex is the vain sex: but I don't think he has gone so far
+as to discover another great truth. It is the superior sex for whom
+scandal has the keenest charm."
+
+"I have never heard the faintest hiss of the serpent slander at the
+Duchess's tea-table," said Lord Mallow.
+
+"No; we are dreadfully behind the age," assented Lady Mabel. "We
+continue to exist without thinking ill of our neighbours."
+
+They all three sauntered towards the house, choosing the sheltered
+ways, and skirting the broad sunny lawn, whose velvet sward, green even
+in this tropical July, was the result of the latest improvements in
+cultivation, ranging from such simple stimulants as bone-dust and
+wood-ashes to the last development of agricultural chemistry. Lady
+Mabel and her companions were for the most part silent during this
+leisurely walk home, and, when one of them hazarded an observation, the
+attempt at conversation had a forced air, and failed to call forth any
+responsive brilliancy in the others.
+
+The Duchess looked provokingly cool and comfortable in her
+morning-room, which was an airy apartment on the first-floor, with a
+wide window opening upon a rustic balcony, verandahed and trellised,
+garlanded with passion-flowers and Australian clematis, and altogether
+sheltered from sun and wind. The most reposeful sofas, the roomiest
+arm-chairs in all the house were to be found here, covered with a cool
+shining chintz of the good old-fashioned sort, apple-blossoms and
+spring-flowers on a white ground.
+
+A second window in a corner opened into a small fernery, in which there
+was a miniature water-fall that trickled with a slumberous sound over
+moss-grown rockwork. There could hardly have been a better room for
+afternoon tea on a sultry summer day; and afternoon tea at Ashbourne
+included iced coffee, and the finest peaches and nectarines that were
+grown in the county; and when the Duke happened to drop in for a chat
+with his wife and daughter, sometimes went as far as sherry and
+Angustura bitters.
+
+The Duchess received her daughter with her usual delighted air, as if
+the ethereal-looking young lady in India muslin had verily been a
+goddess.
+
+"I hope you have not been fatiguing yourself in the orchid-houses on
+such an afternoon as this, my pet," she said anxiously.
+
+"No, indeed, mamma; it is much too warm for the orchid-houses. I have
+been in the shrubbery reading, or trying to read, but it is dreadful
+sleepy weather. We shall all be glad to get some tea. Oh, here it
+comes."
+
+A match pair of footmen brought a pair of silver trays: caddy, kettle,
+and teapot, and cups and saucers on one; and a lavish pile of fruit,
+such as Lance would have loved to paint, on the other.
+
+Lady Mabel took up the quaint little silver caddy and made the tea.
+Roderick began to eat peaches. Lord Mallow, true to his nationality,
+seated himself by the Duchess, and paid her a compliment.
+
+"There are some more parcels for you, Mabel," said the fond mother
+presently, glancing at a side-table, where sundry neatly-papered
+packets suggested jewellery.
+
+"More presents, I suppose," the young lady murmured languidly. "Now I
+do hope people have not sent me any more jewellery. I wear so little,
+and I--"
+
+Have so much, she was going to say, but checked herself on the verge of
+a remark that savoured of vulgar arrogance.
+
+She went on with the tea-making, uncurious as to the inside of those
+dainty-looking parcels. She had been surfeited with presents before she
+left her nursery. A bracelet or a locket more or less could not make
+the slightest difference in her feelings. She entertained a
+condescending pity for the foolish people who squandered their money in
+buying her such things, when they ought to know that she had a
+superfluity of much finer jewels than any they could give her.
+
+"Don't you want to see your presents?" asked Rorie, looking at her, in
+half-stupid wonder at such calm superiority.
+
+"They will keep till we have done tea. I can guess pretty well what
+they are like. How many church-services have people sent me, mamma?"
+
+"I think the last made fourteen," murmured the Duchess, trifling with
+her tea-spoon.
+
+"And how many 'Christian Years'?"
+
+"Nine."
+
+"And how many copies of Doré's 'Idylls of the King'?"
+
+"One came this morning from Mrs. Scobel. I think it was the fifth."
+
+"How many lockets inscribed with A. E. I. or 'Mizpah'?"
+
+"My darling, I could not possibly count those. There were three more by
+post this morning."
+
+"You see there is rather a sameness in these things," said Lady Mabel;
+"and you can understand why I am not rabidly curious about the contents
+of these parcels. I feel sure there will be another 'Mizpah' among
+them."
+
+She had received Lord Mallow's tribute, an Irish jaunting-car, built
+upon the newest lines, and altogether a most perfect vehicle for
+driving to a meet in, so light and perfectly balanced as to travel
+safely through the ruttiest glade in Mark Ash.
+
+Rorie's gifts had all been given, so Lady Mabel could afford to make
+light of the unopened parcels without fear of wounding the feelings of
+anyone present.
+
+They were opened by-and-by, when the Duke came in from his farm, sorely
+disturbed in his mind at the serious indisposition of a
+six-hundred-guinea cart-horse, which hapless prize animal had been
+fatted to such an inflammatory condition that in his case the commonest
+ailment might prove deadly. Depressed by this calamity, the Duke
+required to be propped up with sherry and Angustura bitters, which
+tonic mixture was presently brought to him by one of the match footmen,
+who looked very much as if he were suffering from the same plethoric
+state that was likely to prove fatal to the cart-horse. Happily, the
+footman's death would be but a temporary inconvenience. The Duke had
+not given six hundred guineas for him.
+
+Lady Mabel opened her parcels, in the hope of distracting her father
+from the contemplation of his trouble.
+
+"From whom can this be?" she asked wonderingly, "with the Jersey
+post-mark? Do I know anyone in Jersey?"
+
+Roderick grew suddenly crimson, and became deeply absorbed in the
+business of peeling a nectarine.
+
+"I surely cannot know anyone in Jersey," said Lady Mabel, in languid
+wonderment. "It is an altogether impossible place. Nobody in society
+goes there. It sounds almost as disreputable as Boulogne."
+
+"You'd better open the packet," said Rorie, with a quiver in his voice.
+
+"Perhaps it is from some of your friends," speculated Mabel.
+
+She broke the seal, and tore the cover off a small morocco case.
+
+"What a lovely pair of earrings!" she exclaimed.
+
+Each eardrop was a single turquoise, almost as large, and quite as
+clear in colour, as a hedge-sparrow's egg. The setting was Roman,
+exquisitely artistic.
+
+"Now I can forgive anyone for sending me such jewellery as that," said
+Lady Mabel. "It is not the sort of thing one sees in every jeweller's
+shop."
+
+Rorie looked at the blue stones with rueful eyes. He knew them well. He
+had seen them contrasted with ruddy chestnut hair, and the whitest skin
+in Christendom--or at any rate the whitest he had ever seen, and a
+man's world can be but the world he knows.
+
+"There is a letter," said Lady Mabel. "Now I shall find out all about
+my mysterious Jersey friend."
+
+She read the letter aloud.
+
+
+"Les Tourelles, Jersey, July 25th.
+
+"Dear Lady Mabel,--I cannot bear that your wedding-day should go by
+without bringing you some small token of regard from your husband's old
+friend. Will you wear these earrings now and then, and believe that
+they come from one who has nothing but good wishes for Rorie's
+wife?--Yours very truly,
+
+"VIOLET TEMPEST."
+
+
+"Why, they are actually from your old playfellow!" cried Mabel, with a
+laugh that had not quite a genuine ring in its mirth. "The young lady
+who used to follow the staghounds, in a green habit with brass buttons,
+ever so many years ago, and who insisted on calling you Rorie. She does
+it still, you see. How very sweet of her to send me a wedding-present.
+I ought to have remembered. I heard something about her being sent off
+to Jersey by her people, because she had grown rather incorrigible at
+home."
+
+"She was not incorrigible, and she was not sent off to Jersey," said
+Roderick grimly. "She left home of her own free will; because she could
+not hit it with her stepfather."
+
+"That is another way of expressing it, but I think we both mean pretty
+much the same thing," retorted Mabel. "But I don't want to know why she
+went to Jersey. She has behaved very sweetly in sending me such a
+pretty letter; and when she is at home again I shall be very happy to
+see her at my garden-parties."
+
+Lord Mallow had no share in this conversation, for the Duke had
+buttonholed him, and was giving him a detailed account of the
+cart-horse's symptoms.
+
+The little party dispersed soon after this, and did not foregather
+again until just before dinner, when the people who had been to see the
+ruins were all assembled, full of their day's enjoyment, and of sundry
+conversational encounters which they had had with the natives of the
+district. They gave themselves the usual airs which people who have
+been laboriously amusing themselves inflict upon those wiser
+individuals who prefer the passive pleasure of repose, and made a merit
+of having exposed themselves to the meridian sun, in the pursuit of
+archaeological knowledge.
+
+Lady Mabel looked pale and weary all that evening. Roderick was so
+evidently distrait that the good-natured Duke thought that he must be
+worrying himself about the cart-horse, and begged him to make his mind
+easy, as it was possible the animal might even yet recover.
+
+Later on in the evening Lady Mabel and Lord Mallow sat in the
+conservatory and talked Irish politics, while Rorie and the younger
+members of the house party played Nap. The conservatory was deliciously
+cool on this summer evening, dimly lighted by lamps that were half
+hidden among the palms and orange-trees. Lady Mabel and her companion
+could see the stars shining through the open doorway, and the mystical
+darkness of remote woods. Their voices were hushed; there were pauses
+of silence in their talk. Never had the stirring question of Home Rule
+been more interesting.
+
+Lady Mabel did not go back to the drawing-room that evening. There was
+a door leading from the conservatory to the hall; and, while Rorie and
+the young people were still somewhat noisily engaged in the game of
+Napoleon, Lady Mabel went out to the hall with Lord Mallow in
+attendance upon her. When he had taken her candle from the table and
+lighted it, he paused for a moment or so before he handed it to her,
+looking at her very earnestly all the while, as she stood at the foot
+of the staircase, with saddened face and downcast eyes, gravely
+contemplative of the stair-carpet.
+
+"Is it--positively--too late?" he asked.
+
+"You must feel and know that it is so," she answered.
+
+"But it might have been?"
+
+"Yes," she murmured with a faint sigh, "it might have been."
+
+He gave her the candlestick, and she went slowly upstairs, without a
+word of good-night. He stood in the hall, watching the slim figure as
+it ascended, aerial and elegant in its palely-tinted drapery.
+
+"It might have been," he repeated to himself: and then he lighted his
+candle and went slowly up the staircase. He was in no humour for
+billiards, cigars, or noisy masculine talk to-night. Still less was he
+inclined to be at ease and to make merry with Roderick Vawdrey.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+Wedding Bells.
+
+Vixen had been more than a year in the island of Jersey. She had lived
+her lonely and monotonous existence, and made no moan. It was a dreary
+exile; but it seemed to her that there was little else for her to do in
+life but dawdle through the long slow days, and bear the burden of
+living; at least until she came of age, and was independent, and could
+go where she pleased. Then there would be the wide world for her to
+wander over, instead of this sea-girdled garden of Jersey. She had
+reasons of her own for so quietly submitting to this joyless life. Mrs.
+Winstanley kept her informed of all that was doing in Hampshire, and
+even at the Queen Anne house at Kensington. She knew that Roderick
+Vawdrey's wedding-day was fixed for the first of August. Was it not
+better that she should be far away, hidden from her small world; while
+those marriage bells were ringing across the darkening beech-woods?
+
+Her sacrifice had not been in vain. Her lover had speedily forgotten
+that brief madness of last midsummer, and had returned to his
+allegiance. There had been no cloud upon the loves of the plighted
+cousins--no passing gust of dissension. If there had been, Mrs.
+Winstanley would have known all about it. Her letters told only of
+harmonious feeling and perpetual sunshine.
+
+
+"Lady Mabel is looking prettier than ever," she wrote, in the last week
+of July, "that ethereal loveliness which I so much admire. Her waist
+cannot be more than eighteen inches. I cannot find out who makes her
+dresses, but they are exquisitely becoming to her; though, for my own
+part, I do not think the style equal to Theodore's. But then I always
+supplemented Theodore's ideas with my own suggestions.
+
+"I hear that the _trousseau_ is something wonderful. The _lingerie_ is
+in quite a new style; a special make of linen has been introduced at
+Bruges on purpose for the occasion, and I have heard that the loom is
+to be broken and no more made. But this is perhaps exaggeration. The
+lace has all been made in Buckinghamshire, from patterns a hundred
+years old--very quaint and pretty. There is an elegant simplicity about
+everything, Mrs. Scobel tells me, which is very charming. The costumes
+for the Norwegian tour are heather-coloured water-proof cloth, with
+stitched borders, plain to the last degree, but with a _chic_ that
+redeems their plainness.
+
+"Conrad and I received an early invitation to the wedding. He will go;
+but I have refused, on the ground of ill-health. And, indeed, my dear
+Violet, this is no idle excuse. My health has been declining ever since
+you left us. I was always a fragile creature, as you know, even in your
+dear papa's time; but of late the least exertion has made me tremble
+like a leaf. I bear up, for Conrad's sake. He is so anxious and unhappy
+when he sees me suffer, and I am glad to spare him anxiety.
+
+"Your old friend, Mr. Vawdrey, looks well and happy, but I do not see
+much of him. Believe me, dear, you acted well and wisely in leaving
+home when you did. It would have been a dreadful thing if Lady Mabel's
+engagement had been broken off on account of an idle flirtation between
+you and Rorie. It would have left a stain upon your name for life.
+Girls do not think of these things. I'm afraid I flirted a little
+myself when I was first out, and admiration was new to me; but I
+married so young that I escaped some of the dangers you have had to
+pass through.
+
+"Roderick is making considerable improvements and alterations at
+Briarwood. He is trying to make the house pretty--I fear an impossible
+task. There is a commonplace tone about the building that defies
+improvement. The orchid-houses at Ashbourne are to be taken down and
+removed to Briarwood. The collection has been increasing ever since
+Lady Jane Vawdrey's death, and is now one of the finest in England. But
+to my mind the taste is a most foolish one. Dear Conrad thinks me
+extravagant for giving sixty guineas for a dress--what might he not
+think if I gave as much for a single plant? Lord Mallow is staying at
+Ashbourne for the wedding. His success in the House of Commons has made
+him quite a lion. He called and took tea with me the other day. He is
+very nice. Ah, my dearest Violet, what a pity you could not like him.
+It would have been such a splendid match for you, and would have made
+Conrad and me so proud and happy."
+
+
+Vixen folded the letter with a sigh. She was sitting in her favourite
+spot in the neglected garden, the figs ripening above her among their
+broad ragged leaves, and the green slopes and valleys lying beneath
+her--orchards and meadows and pink homesteads, under a sultry summer
+haze.
+
+The daughter was not particularly alarmed by her mother's complaint of
+declining health. It was that old cry of "wolf," which Violet had heard
+ever since she could remember.
+
+"Poor mamma!" she said to herself, with a half-pitying tenderness, "it
+has always been her particular vanity to fancy herself an invalid; and
+yet no doctor has ever been able to find out anything amiss. She ought
+to be very happy now, poor dear; she has the husband of her choice, and
+no rebellious daughter to make the atmosphere stormy. I must write to
+Mrs. Scobel, and ask if mamma is really not quite so well as when I
+left home."
+
+And then Vixen's thoughts wandered away to Rorie, and the alterations
+that were being made at Briarwood. He was preparing a bright home for
+his young wife, and they would be very happy together, and it would be
+as if Violet had never crossed his path.
+
+"But he was fond of me, last midsummer twelvemonth," thought Vixen,
+half seated half reclining against a grassy bank, with her hands
+clasped above her head, and her open book flung aside upon the long
+grass, where the daisies and dandelions grew in such wild abundance.
+"Yes, he loved me dearly then, and would have sacrificed interest,
+honour, all the world for my sake. Can he forget those days, when they
+are thus ever present to my mind? He seemed more in love than I: yet, a
+little year, and he is going to be married. Have men no memories? I do
+not believe that he loves Lady Mabel any better than he did a year ago,
+when he asked me to be his wife. But he has learnt wisdom; and he is
+going to keep his word, and to be owner of Briarwood and Ashbourne, and
+a great man in the county. I suppose it is a glorious destiny."
+
+In these last days of July a strange restlessness had taken possession
+of Violet Tempest. She could not read or occupy herself in any way.
+Those long rambles about the island, to wild precipices looking down on
+peaceful bays, to furzy hills where a few scattered sheep were her sole
+companions, to heathery steeps that were craggy and precipitous and
+dangerous to climb, and so had a certain fascination for the lonely
+wanderer--these rambles, which had been her chief resource and solace
+until now, had suddenly lost their charm. She dawdled in the garden, or
+roamed restlessly from the garden to the orchard, from the orchard to
+the sloping meadow, where Miss Skipwith's solitary cow, last
+representative of a once well-stocked farm, browsed in a dignified
+seclusion. The days were slow, and oh, how lengthy! and yet there was a
+fever in Vixen's blood which made it seem to her as if time were
+hurrying on at a breathless break-neck pace.
+
+"The day after to-morrow he will be married," she said to herself, on
+the morning of the thirtieth. "By this time on the day after to-morrow,
+the bride will be putting on her wreath of orange blossoms, and the
+church will be decorated with flowers, and there will be a flutter of
+expectation in all the little villages, from one end of the Forest to
+the other. A duke's daughter is not married every day in the year. Ah
+me! there will not be an earthquake, or anything to prevent the
+wedding, I daresay. No, I feel sure that all things are going smoothly.
+If there had been a hitch of any kind, mamma would have written to tell
+me about it."
+
+Miss Skipwith was not a bad person to live with in a time of secret
+trouble such as this. She was so completely wrapped up in her grand
+scheme of reconciliation for all the creeds, that she was utterly blind
+to any small individual tragedy that might be enacted under her nose.
+Those worn cheeks and haggard eyes of Vixen's attracted no attention
+from her as they sat opposite to each other at the sparely-furnished
+breakfast-table, in the searching summer light.
+
+She had allowed Violet perfect liberty, and had been too apathetic to
+be unkind. Having tried her hardest to interest the girl in Swedenborg,
+or Luther, or Calvin, or Mahomet, or Brahma, or Confucius, and having
+failed ignominiously in each attempt, she had dismissed all idea of
+companionship with Violet from her mind, and had given her over to her
+own devices.
+
+"Poor child," she said to herself, "she is not unamiable, but she is
+utterly mindless. What advantages she might have derived from
+intercourse with me, if she had possessed a receptive nature! But my
+highest gifts are thrown away upon her. She will go through life in
+lamentable ignorance of all that is of deepest import in man's past and
+future. She has no more intellect than Baba."
+
+Baba was the Persian cat, the silent companion of Miss Skipwith's
+studious hours.
+
+So Violet roamed in and out of the house, in this languid weather, and
+took up a book only to throw it down again, and went out to the
+court-yard to pat Argus, and strolled into the orchard and leaned
+listlessly against an ancient apple-tree, with her loose hair
+glistening in the sunshine--just as if she were posing herself for a
+pre-Raphaelite picture--and no one took any heed of her goings and
+comings.
+
+She was supremely lonely. Even looking forward to the future--when she
+would be of age and well off, and free to do what she liked with her
+life--she could see no star of hope. Nobody wanted her. She stood quite
+alone amidst a strange, unfriendly world.
+
+"Except poor old McCroke, I don't think there is a creature who cares
+for me; and even her love is tepid," she said to herself.
+
+She had kept up a regular correspondence with her old governess, since
+she had been in Jersey, and had developed to Miss McCroke the scheme of
+her future travels. They were to see everything strange and rare and
+beautiful, that was to be seen in the world.
+
+
+"I wonder if you would much mind going to Africa?" she wrote, in one of
+her frank girlish letters. "There must be something new in Africa. One
+would get away from the beaten ways of Cockney tourists, and one would
+escape the dreary monotony of a _table d'hôte_. There is Egypt for us
+to do; and you, who are a walking encyclopaedia, will be able to tell
+me all about the Pyramids, and Pompey's Pillar, and the Nile. If we got
+tired of Africa we might go to India. We shall be thoroughly
+independent. I know you are a good sailor; you are not like poor mamma,
+who used to suffer tortures in crossing the Channel."
+
+
+There was a relief in writing such letters as these, foolish though
+they might be. That idea of distant wanderings with Miss McCroke was
+the one faint ray of hope offered by the future--not a star, assuredly,
+but at least a farthing candle. The governess answered in her friendly
+matter-of-fact way. She would like much to travel with her dearest
+Violet. The life would be like heaven after her present drudgery in
+finishing the Misses Pontifex, who were stupid and supercilious. But
+Miss McCroke was doubtful about Africa. Such a journey would be a
+fearful undertaking for two unprotected females. To have a peep at
+Algiers and Tunis, and even to see Cairo and Alexandria, might be
+practicable; but anything beyond that Miss McCroke thought wild and
+adventurous. Had her dear Violet considered the climate, and the
+possibility of being taken prisoners by black people, or even devoured
+by lions? Miss McCroke begged her dear pupil to read Livingstone's
+travels and the latest reports of the Royal Geographical Society,
+before she gave any further thought to Africa.
+
+The slowest hours, days the most wearisome, long nights that know not
+sleep, must end at last. The first of August dawned, a long streak of
+red light in the clear gray east. Vixen saw the first glimmer as she
+lay wide awake in her big old bed, staring through the curtainless
+windows to the far sea-line, above which the morning sky grew red.
+
+"Hail, Rorie's wedding-day!" she cried, with a little hysterical laugh;
+and then she buried her face in the pillow and sobbed aloud--sobbed as
+she had not done till now, through all her weary exile.
+
+There had been no earthquake; this planet we live on had not rolled
+backwards in space; all things in life pursued their accustomed course,
+and time had ripened into Roderick Vawdrey's wedding-day.
+
+"I did think _something_ would happen," said Vixen piteously. "It was
+foolish, weak, mad to think so. But I could not believe he would marry
+anyone but me. I did my duty, and I tried to be brave and steadfast.
+But I thought something would happen."
+
+A weak lament from the weak soul of an undisciplined girl. The red
+light grew and glowed redder in the east, and then the yellow sun shone
+through gray drifting clouds, and the new day was born. Slumber and
+Violet had parted company for the last week. Her mind had been too full
+of images; the curtain of sleep would not hide them. Frame and mind
+were both alike worn out, as she lay in the broadening light, lonely,
+forsaken, unpitied, bearing her great sorrow, just as she must have
+borne the toothache, or any other corporal pain.
+
+She rose at seven, feeling unspeakably tired, dressed herself slowly
+and dawdlingly, thinking of Lady Mabel. What an event her rising and
+dressing would be this morning--the flurried maids, the indulgent
+mother; the pure white garments, glistening in the tempered sunlight;
+the luxurious room, with its subdued colouring, its perfume of
+freshly-cut flowers; the dainty breakfast-tray, on a table by an open
+window; the shower of congratulatory letters, and the last delivery of
+wedding gifts. Vixen could imagine the scene, with its every detail.
+
+And Roderick, what of him? She could not so easily picture the
+companion of her childhood on this fateful morning of his life. She
+could not imagine him happy: she dared not fancy him miserable. It was
+safer to make a great effort and shut that familiar figure out of her
+mind altogether.
+
+Oh, what a dismal ceremony the eight--o'clock breakfast, _tête-à-tête_
+with Miss Skipwith, seemed on this particular morning! Even that
+preoccupied lady was constrained to notice Violet's exceeding pallor.
+
+"My dear, you are ill!" she exclaimed. "Your face is as white as a
+sheet of paper, and your eyes have dark rings around them."
+
+"I am not ill, but I have been sleeping badly of late."
+
+"My dear child, you need occupation; you want an aim. The purposeless
+life you are leading must result badly. Why can you not devise some
+pursuit to fill your idle hours? Far be it from me to interfere with
+your liberty; but I confess that it grieves me to see youth, and no
+doubt some measure of ability, so wasted. Why do you not strive to
+continue your education? Self-culture is the highest form of
+improvement. My books are at your disposal."
+
+"Dear Miss Skipwith, your books are all theological," said Vixen
+wearily, "and I don't care for theology. As for my education, I am not
+utterly neglecting it. I read Schiller till my eyes ache."
+
+"One shallow German poet is not the beginning and end of education,"
+replied Miss Skipwith. "I should like you to take larger views of
+woman's work in the world."
+
+"My work in the world is to live quietly, and not to trouble anyone,"
+said Vixen, with a sigh.
+
+She was glad to leave Miss Skipwith to her books, and to wander out
+into the sunny garden, where the figs were ripening or dropping
+half-ripened amongst the neglected grass, and the clustering bloom of
+the hydrangeas was as blue as the summer sky. There had been an
+unbroken interval of sultry weather--no rain, no wind, no clouds--only
+endless sunshine.
+
+"If it would hail, or blow, or thunder," sighed Vixen, with her hands
+clasped above her head, "the change might be some small relief to my
+feelings; but this everlasting brightness is too dreadful. What a lying
+world it is, and how Nature smiles at us when our hearts are aching.
+Well, I suppose I ought to wish the sunshine to last till after Rorie's
+wedding; but I don't, I don't, I don't! If the heavens were to darken,
+and forked lightnings to cleave the black vault, I should dance for
+joy. I should hail the storm, and cry, 'This is sympathy!'"
+
+And then she flung herself face downwards on the grass and sobbed, as
+she had sobbed on her pillow that morning.
+
+"It rends my heart to know we are parted for ever," she said. "Oh why
+did I not say Yes that night in the fir plantation? The chance of
+lifelong bliss was in my hand, and I let it go. It would have been less
+wicked to give way then, and accept my happy fate, than to suffer these
+evil feelings that are gnawing at my heart to-day--vain rage, cruel
+hatred of the innocent!"
+
+The wedding bells must be ringing by this time. She fancied she could
+hear them. Yes, the summer air seemed alive with bells. North, south,
+east, west, all round the island, they were ringing madly, with tuneful
+marriage peal. They beat upon her brain. They would drive her mad. She
+tried to stop her ears, but then those wedding chimes seemed ringing
+inside her head. She could not shut them out. She remembered how the
+joybells had haunted her ears on Rorie's twenty-first birthday--that
+day which had ended so bitterly, in the announcement of the engagement
+between the cousins. Yes, that had been her first real trouble, How
+well she remembered her despair and desolation that night, the rage
+that possessed her young soul.
+
+"And I was little more than a child, then," she said to herself.
+"Surely I must have been born wicked. My dear father was living then;
+and even the thought of his love did not comfort me. I felt myself
+abandoned and alone in the world. How idiotically fond I must have been
+of Rorie. Ever so many years have come and gone, and I have not cured
+myself of this folly. What is there in him that I should care for him?"
+
+She got up from the grass, plucked herself out of that paroxysm of
+mental pain which came too near lunacy, and began to walk slowly round
+the garden-paths, reasoning with herself, calling womanly pride to the
+rescue.
+
+"I hate myself for this weakness," she protested dumbly. "I did not
+think I was capable of it. When I was a child, and was taken to the
+dentist, did I ever whine and howl like vulgar-minded children? No; I
+braced myself for the ordeal, and bore the pain, as my father's child
+ought."
+
+She walked quickly to the house, burst into the parlour, where Miss
+Skipwith was sitting at her desk, the table covered with open volumes,
+over which flowers of literature the student roved, beelike, collecting
+honey for her intellectual hive.
+
+"Please, Miss Skipwith, will you give me some books about Buddha?" said
+Vixen, with an alarming suddenness. "I am quite of your opinion: I
+ought to study. I think I shall go in for theology."
+
+"My dearest child!" cried the ancient damsel, enraptured. "Thank
+Heaven! the seed I have sown has germinated at last. If you are once
+inspired with the desire to enter that vast field of knowledge, the
+rest will follow. The flowers you will find by the wayside will lure
+you onward, even when the path is stony and difficult."
+
+"I suppose I had better begin with Buddha," said Vixen, with a hard and
+resolute manner that scarcely seemed like the burning desire for
+knowledge newly kindled in the breast of a youthful student. "That is
+beginning at the beginning, is it not?"
+
+"No, my dear. In comparison with the priesthood of Egypt, Buddha is
+contemptibly modern. If we want the beginning of things, we must revert
+to Egypt, that cradle of learning and civilisation."
+
+"Then let me begin with Egypt!" cried Vixen impatiently. "I don't care
+a bit how I begin. I want occupation for my mind."
+
+"Did I not say so?" exclaimed Miss Skipwith, full of ardent welcome for
+the neophyte whose steps had been so tardy in approaching the shrine.
+"That pallor, those haggard eyes are indications of a troubled mind;
+and no mind can be free from trouble when it lacks an object. We create
+our own sorrows."
+
+"Yes, we are wretched creatures!" cried Vixen passionately, "the
+poorest examples of machinery in all this varied universe. Look at that
+cow in your orchard, her dull placid life, inoffensive, useful, asking
+nothing but a fertile meadow and a sunny day to fill her cup of
+happiness. Why did the great Creator make the lower animals exempt from
+sorrow, and give us such an infinite capacity for grief and pain? It
+seems hardly fair."
+
+"My dear, our Creator gave us minds, and the power of working out our
+own salvation," replied Miss Skipwith. "Here are half-a-dozen volumes.
+In these you will find the history of Egyptian theology, from the
+golden age of the god Râ to the dark and troubled period of Persian
+invasion. Some of these works are purely philosophical. I should
+recommend you to read the historical volumes first. Make copious notes
+of what you read, and do not hesitate to refer to me when you are
+puzzled."
+
+"I am afraid that will be very often," said Vixen, piling up the books
+in her arms with a somewhat hopeless air. "I am not at all clever; but
+I want to employ my mind."
+
+She carried the books up to her bedroom, and arranged them on a stout
+old oak table, which Mrs. Doddery had found for her accommodation. She
+opened her desk, and put a quire of paper ready for any notes she might
+be tempted to make, and then she began, steadily and laboriously, with
+a dry-as-dust history of ancient Egypt.
+
+Oh, how her poor head ached as the summer noontide wore on, and the
+bees hummed in the garden below, and the distant waves danced gaily in
+the sunlight; and the knowledge that the bells were really ringing at
+Ashbourne could not be driven from her mind. How the Shepherd Kings,
+and the Pharaohs, and the comparatively modern days of Joseph and his
+brethren, and the ridiculously recent era of Moses, passed, like dim
+shifting shadows, before her mental vision. She retraced her steps in
+that dreary book, again and again, patiently, forcing her mind to the
+uncongenial task.
+
+"I will not be such a slave as to think of him all this long summer
+day," she said to herself. "I _will_ think of the god Râ, and lotus
+flowers, and the Red Nile, and the Green Nile, and all this wonderful
+land where I am going to take dear old McCroke by-and-by."
+
+She read on till dinner-time, only pausing to scribble rapid notes of
+the dates and names and facts which would not stand steadily in her
+whirling brain; and then she went down to the parlour, no longer pale,
+but with two hectic spots on her cheeks, and her eyes unnaturally
+bright.
+
+"Ah," ejaculated Miss Skipwith, delightedly. "You look better already.
+There is nothing like severe study for bracing the nerves."
+
+Violet talked about Egypt all dinner-time, but she ate hardly anything,
+and that hectic flush upon her cheeks grew more vivid as she talked.
+
+"To think that after the seed lying dormant all this time, it should
+have germinated at last with such sudden vigour," mused Miss Skipwith.
+"The poor girl is talking a good deal of nonsense; but that is only the
+exuberance of a newly awakened intellect."
+
+Vixen went back to the Egyptians directly after dinner. She toiled
+along the arid road with an indomitable patience. Her ideas of Egypt
+had hitherto been of the vaguest. Vast plains of barren sand, a pyramid
+or two, Memnon's head breathing wild music in the morning sunshine,
+crocodiles, copper-coloured natives, and Antony and Cleopatra. These
+things were about as much as Miss McCroke's painstaking tuition had
+implanted in her pupil's mind. And here, without a shadow of vocation,
+this poor ignorant girl was poring over the driest details that ever
+interested the scholar. The mysteries of the triple language, the
+Rosetta Stone, Champollion--_tout le long de la rivière_. Was it any
+wonder that her head ached almost to agony, and that the ringing of
+imaginary wedding bells sounded distractingly in her ears?
+
+She worked on till tea-time, and was too engrossed to hear the bell,
+which clanged lustily for every meal in the orderly household: a bell
+whose clamour was somewhat too much for the repast it heralded.
+
+This evening Vixen did not hear the bell, inviting her to weak tea and
+bread-and-butter. The ringing of those other bells obscured the sound.
+She was sitting with her book before her, but her eyes fixed on
+vacancy, when Miss Skipwith, newly interested in her charge, came to
+inquire the cause of her delay. The girl looked at her languidly, and
+seemed slow to understand what she said.
+
+"I don't care for any tea," she replied at last. "I would rather go on
+with the history. It is tremendously interesting, especially the
+hieroglyphics. I have been trying to make them out. It is so nice to
+know that a figure like a chopper means a god, and that a goose with a
+black ball above his hack means Pharaoh, son of the sun. And then the
+table of dynasties: can anything be more interesting than those? It
+makes one's head go round just a little at first, when one has to grope
+backwards through so many centuries, but that's nothing."
+
+"My dear, you are working too hard. It is foolish to begin with such
+impetuosity. A fire that burns so fiercely will soon exhaust itself.
+_Festina lente_. We must hasten slowly, if we want to make solid
+progress. Why, my poor child, your fore-head is burning. You will read
+yourself into a fever."
+
+"I think I am in a fever already," said Vixen.
+
+Miss Skipwith was unusually kind. She insisted upon helping her charge
+to undress, and would not leave her till she was lying quietly in bed.
+She was going to draw down the blinds, but against this Vixen protested
+vehemently.
+
+"Pray leave me the sky," she cried; "it is something to look at through
+the long blank night. The stars come and go, and the clouds are always
+changing. I believe I should go mad if it were not for the sky."
+
+Poor Miss Skipwith felt seriously uneasy. The first draught from the
+fountain of knowledge had evidently exercised an intoxicating effect
+upon Violet Tempest. It was as if she had been taking opium or hashish.
+The girl's brain was affected.
+
+"You have studied too long," she said. "This must not occur again. I
+feel myself responsible to your parents for your health."
+
+"To my parents," echoed Vixen, with a sudden sigh; "I have only one,
+and she is happier in my absence than when I was with her. You need not
+be uneasy about me if I fall ill. No one will care. If I were to die,
+no one would be sorry. I have no place in the world. No one would miss
+me."
+
+"My dear, it is absolutely wicked to talk in this strain; just as you
+are developing new powers, an intellect which may make you a pillar and
+a landmark in your age."
+
+"I don't want to be a pillar or a landmark," said Vixen impatiently. "I
+don't want to have my name associated with 'movements,' or to write
+letters to The Times. I should like to have been happy my own way."
+
+She turned her back upon Miss Skipwith, and lay so still that the
+excellent lady supposed she was dropping off to sleep.
+
+"A good night's rest will restore her, and she will awake with renewed
+appetite for knowledge," she murmured benevolently as she went back to
+her Swedenborgian studies.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+The nearest Way to Norway.
+
+No such blessing as a good night's rest was in store for Violet Tempest
+on that night of the first of August. She lay in a state of
+half-consciousness that was near akin to delirium. When she closed her
+eyes for a little while the demon of evil dreams took hold of her. She
+was in the old familiar home-scenes with her dear dead father. She
+acted over again that awful tragedy of sudden death. She was upbraiding
+her mother about Captain Winstanley. Bitter words were on her lips;
+words more bitter than even she had ever spoken in all her intensity of
+adverse feeling. She was in the woody hollow by Rufus's stone,
+blindfold, with arms stretched helplessly out, seeking for Rorie among
+the smooth beech-boles, with a dreadful sense of loneliness, and a fear
+that he was far away, and that she would perish, lost and alone, in
+that dismal wood.
+
+So the slow night wore on to morning. Sometimes she lay staring idly at
+the stars, shining so serenely in that calm summer sky. She wondered
+what life was like, yonder, in those remote worlds. Was humanity's
+portion as sad, fate as adverse, there as here? Then she thought of
+Egypt, and Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra--that story of a wild,
+undisciplined love, grand in its lawless passion--its awful doom. To
+have loved thus, and died thus, seemed a higher destiny than to do
+right, and patiently conquer sorrow, and live on somehow to the dismal
+end of the dull blameless chapter.
+
+At last, with what laggard steps, with what oppressive tardiness, came
+the dawn, in long streaks of lurid light above the edge of the distant
+waters.
+
+"'Red sky at morning is the shepherd's warning!'" cried Vixen, with dry
+lips. "Thank God there will be rain to-day! Welcome change after the
+hot arid skies, and the cruel brazen sun, mocking all the miseries of
+this troubled earth."
+
+She felt almost as wildly glad as the Ancient Mariner, at the idea of
+that blessed relief; and then, by-and-by, with the changeful light
+shining on her face, she fell into a deep sleep.
+
+Perhaps that morning sleep saved Vixen from an impending fever. It was
+the first refreshing slumber she had had for a week--a sweet dreamless
+sleep. The breakfast-bell rang unheeded. The rain, forecast by that red
+sky, fell in soft showers upon the verdant isle, and the grateful earth
+gave back its sweetest perfumes to the cool, moist air.
+
+Miss Skipwith came softly in to look at her charge, saw her sleeping
+peacefully, and as softly retired.
+
+"Poor child! the initiation has been too much for her unformed mind,"
+she murmured complacently, pleased with herself for having secured a
+disciple. "The path is narrow and rugged at the beginning, but it will
+broaden out before her as she goes on."
+
+Violet awoke, and found that it was mid-day. Oh, what a blessed relief
+that long morning sleep had been. She woke like a creature cured of
+mortal pain. She fell on her knees beside the bed, and prayed as she
+had not often prayed in her brief careless life.
+
+"What am I that I should question Thy justice!" she cried. "Lord, teach
+me to submit, teach me to bear my burden patiently, and to do some good
+in the world."
+
+Her mood and temper were wondrously softened after a long interval of
+thought and prayer. She was ashamed of her waywardness of
+yesterday--her foolish unreasonable passion.
+
+"Poor Rorie, I told him to keep his promise, and he has obeyed me," she
+said to herself. "Can I be angry with him for that? I ought to feel
+proud and glad that we were both strong enough to do our duty."
+
+She dressed slowly, languid after the excitement of yesterday, and then
+went slowly down the broad bare staircase to Miss Skipwith's parlour.
+
+The lady of the manor received her with affectionate greeting, and had
+a special pot of tea brewed for her, and insisted upon her eating some
+dry toast, a form of nourishment which this temperate lady deemed a
+panacea in illness.
+
+"I was positively alarmed about you last night, my dear," she said;
+"you were so feverish and excited. You read too much, for the first
+day."
+
+"I'm afraid I did," assented Vixen, with a faint smile; "and the worst
+of it is, I believe I have forgotten every word I read."
+
+"Surely not!" cried Miss Skipwith, horrified at this admission. "You
+seemed so impressed--so interested. You were so full of your subject."
+
+"I have a faint recollection of the little men in the hieroglyphics,"
+said Vixen; "but all the rest is gone. The images of Antony and
+Cleopatra, in Shakespeare's play, bring Egypt more vividly before me
+than all the history I read yesterday."
+
+Miss Skipwith looked shocked, just as if some improper character in
+real life had been brought before her.
+
+"Cleopatra was very disreputable, and she was not Egyptian," she
+remarked severely. "I am sorry you should waste your thoughts upon such
+a person."
+
+"I think she is the most interesting woman in ancient history," said
+Vixen wilfully, "as Mary Queen of Scots is in modern history. It is not
+the good people whose images take hold of one's fancy, What a faint
+idea one has of Lady Jane Grey, And, in Schiller's 'Don Carlos,' I
+confess the Marquis of Posa never interested me half so keenly as
+Philip of Spain."
+
+"My dear, you are made up of fancies and caprices. Your mind wants
+balance," said Miss Skipwith, affronted at this frivolity. "Had you not
+better go for a walk with your dog? Doddery tells me that poor Argus
+has not had a good run since last week."
+
+"How wicked of me!" cried Vixen. "Poor old fellow! I had almost
+forgotten his existence. Yes, I should like a long walk, if you will
+not think me idle."
+
+"You studied too many hours yesterday, my dear. It will do you good to
+relax the bow to-day. _Non semper arcum tendit Apollo!_"
+
+"I'll go for my favourite walk to Mount Orgueil. I don't think there'll
+be any more rain. Please excuse me if I am not home in time for dinner.
+I can have a little cold meat, or an egg, for my tea."
+
+"You had better take a sandwich with you," said Miss Skipwith, with
+unusual thoughtfulness. "You have been eating hardly anything lately."
+
+Vixen did not care about the sandwich, but submitted, to please her
+hostess, and a neat little paper parcel, containing about three ounces
+of nutriment, was made up for her by Mrs. Doddery. Never had the island
+looked fairer in its summer beauty than it did to-day, after the
+morning's rain. These showers had been to Jersey what sleep had been to
+Vixen. The air was soft and cool; sparkling rain-drops fell like
+diamonds from the leaves of ash and elm. The hedge-row ferns had taken
+a new green, as if the spirit of spring had revisited the island. The
+blue bright sea was dimpled with wavelets.
+
+What a bright glad world it was, and how great must be the sin of a
+rebellious spirit, cavilling at the dealings of its Creator! The happy
+dog bounced and bounded round his mistress, the birds twittered in the
+hedges, the passing farm-labourer with his cartload of seaweed smacked
+his whip cheerily as he urged his patient horse along the narrow lane.
+A huge van-load of Cockney tourists, singing a boisterous chorus of the
+last music-hall song, passed Vixen at a turn of the road, and made a
+blot on the serene beauty of the scene. They were going to eat lobsters
+and drink bottled beer and play skittles at Le Tac. Vixen rejoiced when
+their raucous voices died away on the summer breeze.
+
+"Why is Jersey the peculiar haunt of the vulgar?" she wondered. "It is
+such a lovely place that it deserves to be visited by something better
+than the refuse of Margate and Ramsgate."
+
+There was a meadow-path which lessened the distance between Les
+Tourelles and Mount Orgueil. Vixen had just left the road and entered
+the meadow when Argus set up a joyous bark, and ran back to salute a
+passing vehicle. It was a St. Helier's fly, driving at a tremendous
+pace in the direction from which she had come. A young man lay back in
+the carriage, smoking a cigar, with his hat slouched over his eyes.
+Vixen could just see the strong sunburnt hand flung up above his head.
+It was a foolish fancy, doubtless, but that broad brown hand reminded
+her of Rorie's. Argus leaped the stile, rushed after the vehicle, and
+saluted it clamorously. The poor brute had been mewed up for a week in
+a dull courtyard, and was rejoiced at having something to bark at.
+
+Vixen walked on to the seashore, and the smiling little harbour, and
+the brave old castle. There was the usual party of tourists following
+the guide through narrow passages and echoing chambers, and peering
+into the rooms where Charles Stuart endured his exile, and making those
+lively remarks and speculations whereby the average tourist is prone to
+reveal his hazy notions of history. Happily Vixen knew of quiet corners
+upon the upward walls whither tourists rarely penetrated; nooks in
+which she had sat through many an hour of sun and shade, reading,
+musing, or sketching with free untutored pencil, for the mere idle
+delight of the moment. Here in this loneliness, between land and sea,
+she had nursed her sorrow and made much of her grief. She liked the
+place. No obtrusive sympathy had ever made it odious to her. Here she
+was mistress of herself and her own thoughts. To-day she went to her
+favourite corner, a seat in an angle of the battlemented wall, and sat
+there with her arms folded on the stone parapet, looking dreamily
+seaward, across the blue channel to the still bluer coast of Normandy,
+where the tower of Coutance showed dimly in the distance.
+
+Resignation. Yes, that was to be her portion henceforward. She must
+live out her life, in isolation almost as complete as Miss Skipwith's,
+without the innocent delusions which gave substance and colour to that
+lonely lady's existence.
+
+"If I could only have a craze," she thought hopelessly, "some harmless
+monomania which would fill my mind! The maniacs in Bedlam, who fancy
+themselves popes or queens, are happy in their foolish way. If I could
+only imagine myself something which I am not--anything except poor
+useless Violet Tempest, who has no place in the world!"
+
+The sun was gaining power, the air was drowsy, the soft ripple of the
+tide upon the golden sand was like a lullaby. Even that long sleep of
+the morning had not cured Vixen's weariness. There were long arrears of
+slumber yet to be made up. Her eyelids drooped, then closed altogether,
+the ocean lullaby took a still softer sound, the distant voices of the
+tourists grew infinitely soothing, and Vixen sank quietly to sleep, her
+head leaning on her folded arms, the gentle west wind faintly stirring
+her loose hair.
+
+
+"'Oh, happy kiss that woke thy sleep!'" cried a familiar voice close in
+the slumberer's ear, and then a warm breath, which was not the summer
+wind, fanned the cheek that lay upmost upon her arm, two warm lips were
+pressed against that glowing cheek in ardent greeting. The girl started
+to her feet, every vein tingling with the thrilling recognition of her
+assailant. There was no one else--none other than he--in this wide
+world who would do such a thing! She sprang up, and faced him, her eyes
+flashing, her cheeks crimson.
+
+"How dare you?" she cried. "Then it was you I saw in the fly? Pray, is
+this the nearest way to Norway?"
+
+Yes, it was Rorie; looking exactly like the familiar Rorie of old; not
+one whit altered by marriage with a duke's only daughter; a stalwart
+young fellow in a rough gray suit, a dark face sunburnt to deepest
+bronze, eyes with a happy smile in them, firmly-cut lips half hidden by
+the thick brown beard, a face that would have looked well under a
+lifted helmet--such a face as the scared Saxons must have seen among
+the bold followers of William the Norman, when those hardy Norse
+warriors ran amuck in Dover town.
+
+"Not to my knowledge," answered this audacious villain, in his lightest
+tone. "I am not very geographical. But I should think it was rather out
+of the way."
+
+"Then you and Lady Mabel have changed your plans?" said Vixen,
+trembling very much, but trying desperately to be as calmly commonplace
+as a young lady talking to an ineligible partner at a ball. "You are
+not going to the north of Europe?"
+
+"Lady Mabel and I have changed our plans. We are not going to the north
+of Europe."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"In point of fact, we are not going anywhere."
+
+"But you have come to Jersey. That is part of your tour, I suppose?"
+
+"Do not be too hasty in your suppositions, Miss Tempest. _I_ have come
+to Jersey--I am quite willing to admit as much as that."
+
+"And Lady Mabel? She is with you, of course?"
+
+"Not the least bit in the world. To the best of my knowledge, Lady
+Mabel--I beg her pardon--Lady Mallow is now on her way to the
+fishing-grounds of Connemara with her husband."
+
+"Rorie!"
+
+What a glad happy cry that was! It was like a gush of sudden music from
+a young blackbird's throat on a sunny spring morning. The crimson dye
+had faded from Violet's cheeks a minute ago and left her deadly pale.
+Now the bright colour rushed back again, the happy brown eyes, the
+sweet blush-rose lips, broke into the gladdest smile that ever Rorie
+had seen upon her face. He held out his arms, he clasped her to his
+breast, where she rested unresistingly, infinitely happy. Great Heaven!
+how the whole world and herself had become transformed in this moment
+of unspeakable bliss! Rorie, the lost, the surrendered, was her own
+true lover after all!
+
+"Yes, dear, I obeyed you. You were hard and cruel to me that night in
+the fir plantation; but I knew in my heart of hearts that you were
+wise, and honest, and true; and I made up my mind that I would keep the
+engagement entered upon beside my mother's death-bed. Loving or
+unloving I would marry Mabel Ashbourne, and do my duty to her, and go
+down to my grave with the character of a good and faithful husband, as
+many a man has done who never loved his wife. So I held on, Vixen--yes,
+I will call you by the old pet name now: henceforward you are mine, and
+I shall call you what I like--I held on, and was altogether an
+exemplary lover; went wherever I was ordered to go, and always came
+when they whistled for me; rode at my lady's jog-trot pace in the Row,
+stood behind her chair at the opera, endured more classical music than
+ever man heard before and lived, listened to my sweetheart's manuscript
+verses, and, in a word, did my duty in that state of life to which it
+had pleased God to call me; and my reward has been to be jilted with
+every circumstance of ignominy on my wedding-morning."
+
+"Jilted!" cried Vixen, her big brown eyes shining, in pleasantest
+mockery. "Why I thought Lady Mabel adored you?"
+
+"So did I," answered Roderick naïvely, "and I pitied the poor dear
+thing for her infatuation. Had I not thought that, I should have broken
+my bonds long ago. It was not the love of the Duke's acres that held
+me. I still believe that Mabel was fond of me once, but Lord Mallow
+bowled me out. His eloquence, his parliamentary success, and, above
+all, his flattery, proved irresistible. The scoundrel brought a
+marriage certificate in his pocket when he came to stay at Ashbourne,
+and had the art to engage rooms at Southampton and sleep there a night
+_en passant_. He left a portmanteau and a hat-box there, and that
+constituted legal occupancy; so, when he won Lady Mabel's consent to an
+elopement--which I believe he did not succeed in doing till the night
+before our intended wedding-day--he had only to ride over to
+Southampton and give notice to the parson and clerk. The whole thing
+was done splendidly. Lady Mabel went out at eight o'clock, under the
+pretence of going to early church. Mallow was waiting for her with a
+fly, half a mile from Ashbourne. They drove to Southampton together,
+and were married at ten o'clock, in the old church of St. Michael.
+While the distracted Duchess and her women were hunting everywhere for
+the bride, and all the visitors at Ashbourne were arraying themselves
+in their wedding finery, and the village children were filling their
+baskets with flowers to strew upon the pathway of the happy pair,
+emblematical of the flowers which do _not_ blossom in the highway of
+life, the lady was over the border with Jock o' Hazeldean! Wasn't it
+fun, Vixen?"
+
+And the jilted one flung back his handsome head and laughed long and
+loud. It was too good a joke, the welcome release coming at the last
+moment.
+
+"At half-past ten there came a telegram from my runaway bride:
+
+
+"'Ask Roderick to forgive me, dear mamma. I found at the last that my
+heart was not mine to give, and I am married to Lord Mallow. I do not
+think my cousin will grieve very much.'
+
+
+"That last clause was sensible, anyhow, was it not, Vixen?"
+
+"I think the whole business was very sensible," said Vixen, with a
+sweet grave smile; "Lord Mallow wanted a clever wife and you did not.
+It was very wise of Lady Mabel to find that out before it was too late."
+
+"She will be very happy as Lady Mallow," said Roderick. "Mallow will
+legislate for Ireland, and she will rule him. He will have quite enough
+of Home Rule, poor beggar. Hibernia will be Mabelised. She is a dear
+good little thing. I quite love her, now she has jilted me."
+
+"But how did you come here?" asked Vixen, looking up at her lover in
+simple wonder. "All this happened only yesterday morning."
+
+"Is there not a steamer that leaves Southampton nightly? Had there not
+been one I would have chartered a boat for myself. I would have come in
+a cockle-shell--I would have come with a swimming-belt--I would have
+done anything wild and adventurous to hasten to my love. I started for
+Southampton the minute I had seen that too blessed telegram; went to
+St. Michael's, saw the register with its entry of Lord Mallow's
+marriage, hardly dry; and then went down to the docks and booked my
+berth. Oh, what a long day yesterday was--the longest day of my life!"
+
+"And of mine," sighed Vixen, between tears and laughter, "in spite of
+the Shepherd Kings."
+
+"Are those Jersey people you have picked up?" Rorie asked innocently.
+
+This turned the scale, and Vixen burst into a joyous peal of laughter.
+
+"How did you find me here?" she asked.
+
+"Very easily. Your custodian--what a grim-looking personage she is,
+by-the-way--told me where you were gone, and directed me how to follow
+you. I told her I had a most important message to deliver to you from
+your mother. You don't mind that artless device, I hope?"
+
+"Not much. How is dear mamma? She complains in her letters of not
+feeling very well."
+
+"I have not seen her lately. When I did, I thought her looking ill and
+worn. She will get well when you go back to her, Vixen. Your presence
+will be like sunshine."
+
+"I shall never go back to the Abbey House."
+
+"Yes, you will--for one fortnight at least. After that your home will
+be at Briarwood. You must be married from your father's house."
+
+"Who said I was going to be married, sir?" asked Vixen, with delicious
+coquetry.
+
+"I said it--I say it. Do you think I am too bold, darling? Ought I to
+go on my knees, love, and make you a formal offer? Why I have loved you
+all my life; and I think you have loved me as long."
+
+"So I have, Rorie," she answered softly, shyly, sweetly. "I forswore
+myself that night in the fir-wood. I always loved you; there was no
+stage of my life when you were not dearer to me than anyone on earth,
+except my father."
+
+"Dear love, I am ashamed of my happiness," said Roderick tenderly. "I
+have been so weak and unworthy. I gave away my hopes of bliss in one
+foolishly soft moment, to gratify my mother's dying wish--a wish that
+had been dinned into my ear the last years of her life--and I have done
+nothing but repent my folly ever since. Can you forgive me, Violet? I
+shall never forgive myself."
+
+"Let the past be like a dream that we have dreamt. It will make the
+future seem so much the brighter."
+
+"Yes."
+
+And then under the blue August sky, fearless and unabashed, these happy
+lovers gave each other the kiss of betrothal.
+
+"What am I to do with you?" Vixen asked laughingly. "I ought to go home
+to Les Tourelles."
+
+"Don't you think you might take me with you? I am your young man now,
+you know. I hope it is not a case of 'no followers allowed.'"
+
+"I'm afraid Miss Skipwith will feel disappointed in me. She thought I
+was going to have a mission."
+
+"A mission!"
+
+"Yes; that I was going for theology. And for it all to end in my being
+engaged to be married! It seems such a commonplace ending, does it not?"
+
+"Decidedly. As commonplace as the destiny of Adam and Eve, whom God
+joined together in Eden. Take me back to Les Tourelles, Vixen. I think
+I shall be able to manage Miss Skipwith."
+
+They left the battlements, and descended the narrow stairs, and went
+side by side, through sunlit fields and lanes, to the old Carolian
+manor house, happy with that unutterable, immeasurable joy which
+belongs to happy love, and to love only; whether it be the romantic
+passion of a Juliet leaning from her balcony, the holy bliss of a
+mother hanging over her child's cradle, or the sober affection of the
+wife who has seen the dawn and close of a silver wedding and yet loves
+on with love unchangeable--a monument of constancy in an age of easy
+divorce.
+
+The distance was long; but to these two the walk was of the shortest.
+It was as if they trod on flowers or airy cloud, so lightly fell their
+footsteps on the happy earth.
+
+What would Miss Skipwith say? Vixen laughed merrily at the image of
+that cheated lady.
+
+"To think that all my Egyptian researches should end in--Antony!" she
+said, with a joyous look at her lover, who required to be informed
+which Antony she meant.
+
+"I remember him in Plutarch," he said. "He was a jolly fellow."
+
+"And in Shakespeare."
+
+"_Connais pas_," said Rorie. "I've read some of Shakespeare's plays, of
+course, but not all. He wrote too much."
+
+It was five o'clock in the afternoon when they arrived at Les
+Tourelles. They had loitered a little in those sunny lanes, stopping to
+look seaward through a gap in the hedge, or to examine a fern which was
+like the ferns of Hampshire. They had such a world of lovers' nonsense
+to say to each other, such confessions of past unhappiness, such
+schemes of future bliss.
+
+"I'm afraid you'll never like Briarwood as well as the Abbey House,"
+said Rorie humbly. "I tried my best to patch it up for Lady Mabel; for,
+you see, as I felt I fell short in the matter of affection, I wanted to
+do the right thing in furniture and decorations. But the house is
+lamentably modern and commonplace. I'm afraid you'll never be happy
+there."
+
+"Rorie, I could be happy with you if our home were no better than the
+charcoal-burner's hut in Mark Ash," protested Vixen.
+
+"It's very good of you to say that. Do you like sage-green?" Rorie
+asked with a doubtful air.
+
+"Pretty well. It reminds me of mamma's dress-maker, Madame Theodore."
+
+"Because Mabel insisted upon having sage-green curtains, and
+chair-covers, and a sage-green wall with a chocolate dado--did you ever
+hear of a dado?--in the new morning-room I built for her. I'm rather
+afraid you won't like it; I should have preferred pink or blue myself,
+and no dado. It looks so much as if one had run short of wall-paper.
+But it can all be altered by-and-by, if you don't like it."
+
+They found Miss Skipwith pacing the weedy gravel walk in front of her
+parlour window, with a disturbed air, and a yellow envelope in her hand.
+
+"My dear, this has been an eventful day," she exclaimed. "I have been
+very anxious for your return. Here is a telegram for you; and as it is
+the first you have had since you have been staying here, I conclude it
+is of some importance."
+
+Vixen took the envelope eagerly from her hand.
+
+"If you were not standing by my side, a telegram would frighten me,"
+she whispered to Roderick. "It might tell me you were dead."
+
+The telegram was from Captain Winstanley to Miss Tempest:
+
+
+"Come home by the next boat. Your mother is ill, and anxious to see
+you. The carriage will meet you at Southampton."
+
+
+Poor Vixen looked at her lover with a conscience-stricken countenance.
+
+"Oh, Rorie, and I have been so wickedly, wildly happy!" she cried, as
+if it were a crime to have so rejoiced. "And I made so light of mamma's
+last letter, in which she complained of being ill. I hardly gave it a
+thought."
+
+"I don't suppose there is anything very wrong," said Rorie, in a
+comforting tone, after he had studied those few bold words in the
+telegram, trying to squeeze the utmost meaning out of the brief
+sentence. "You see, Captain Winstanley does not say that your mother is
+dangerously ill, or even very ill; he only says ill. That might mean
+something quite insignificant--hay-fever or neuralgia, or a nervous
+headache."
+
+"But he tells me to go home--he who hates me, and was so glad to get me
+out of the house."
+
+"It is your mother who summons you home, no doubt. She is mistress in
+her own house, of course."
+
+"You would not say that if you knew Captain Winstanley."
+
+They were alone together on the gravel walk, Miss Skipwith having
+retired to make tea in her dingy parlour. It had dawned upon her that
+this visitor of Miss Tempest's was no common friend; and she had
+judiciously left the lovers together. "Poor misguided child!" she
+murmured to herself pityingly; "just as she was developing a vocation
+for serious things! But perhaps if is all for the best. I doubt if she
+would ever have had breadth of mind to grapple with the great problems
+of natural religion."
+
+"Isn't it dreadful?" said Vixen, walking up and down with the telegram
+in her hand. "I shall have to endure hours of suspense before I can
+know how my poor mother is. There is no boat till to-morrow morning.
+It's no use talking, Rorie." Mr. Vawdrey was following her up and down
+the walk affectionately, but not saying a word. "I feel convinced that
+mamma must be seriously ill; I should not be sent for unless it were
+so. In all her letters there has not been a word about my going home. I
+was not wanted."
+
+"But, dearest love, you know that your mother is apt to think seriously
+of trifles."
+
+"Rorie, you told me an hour ago that she was looking ill when last you
+saw her."
+
+Roderick looked at his watch.
+
+"There is one thing I might do," he said, musingly. "Has Miss Skipwith
+a horse and trap?"
+
+"Not the least in the world."
+
+"That's a pity; it would have saved time. I'll get down to St. Helier's
+somehow, telegraph to Captain Winstanley to inquire the exact state of
+your mother's health, and not come back till I bring you his answer."
+
+"Oh, Rorie, that would be good of you!" exclaimed Vixen. "But it seems
+too cruel to send you away like that; you have been travelling so long.
+You have had nothing to eat. You must be dreadfully tired."
+
+"Tired! Have I not been with you? There are some people whose presence
+makes one unconscious of humanity's weaknesses. No, darling, I am
+neither tired nor hungry; I am only ineffably happy. I'll go down and
+set the wires in motion; and then I'll find out all about the steamer
+for to-morrow morning, and we will go back to Hampshire together."
+
+And again the rejoicing lover quoted the Laureate:
+
+  "And on her lover's arm she leant,
+  And round her waist she felt it fold;
+  And far across the hills they went,
+  In that new world which is the old."
+
+
+Rorie had to walk all the way to St. Helier's. He dispatched an urgent
+message to Captain Winstanley, and then dined temperately at a French
+restaurant not far from the quay, where the _bon vivants_ of Jersey are
+wont to assemble nightly. When he had dined he walked about the
+harbour, looking at the ships, and watching the lights beginning to
+glimmer from the barrack-windows, and the straggling street along the
+shore, and the far-off beacons shining out, as the rosy sunset darkened
+to purple night.
+
+He went to the office two or three times before the return message had
+come; but at last it was handed to him, and he read it by the
+office-lamp:
+
+
+"_Captain Winstanley, Abbey House, Hampshire, to Mr. Vawdrey, St.
+Heliers_.
+
+"My wife is seriously ill, but in no immediate danger. The doctors
+order extreme quiet; all agitation is to be carefully avoided. Let Miss
+Tempest bear this in mind when she comes home."
+
+
+Roderick drove back to Les Tourelles with this message, which was in
+some respects reassuring, or at any rate afforded a certainty less
+appalling than Violet's measureless fears.
+
+Vixen was sitting on the pilgrim's bench beside the manor house
+gateway, watching for her lover's return. Oh, happy lover, to be thus
+watched for and thus welcomed; thrice, nay, a thousandfold happy in the
+certainty that she was his own for ever! He put his arm round her, and
+they wandered along the shadowy lane together, between dewy banks of
+tangled verdure, luminous with glow-worms. The stars were shining above
+the overarching roof of foliage, the harvest moon was rising over the
+distant sea.
+
+"What a beautiful place Jersey is!" exclaimed Vixen innocently, as she
+strolled lower down the lane, circled by her lover's arm. "I had no
+idea it was half so lovely. But then of course I was never allowed to
+roam about in the moonlight. And, indeed, Rorie, I think we had better
+go in directly. Miss Skipwith will be wondering."
+
+"Let her wonder, love. I can explain everything when we go in. She was
+young herself once upon a time, though one would hardly give her credit
+for it; and you may depend she has walked in this lane by moonlight.
+Yes, by the light of that very same sober old moon, who has looked down
+with the same indulgent smile upon endless generations of lovers."
+
+"From Adam and Eve to Antony and Cleopatra," suggested Vixen, who
+couldn't get Egypt out of her head.
+
+"Antony and Cleopatra were middle-aged lovers," said Rorie. "The moon
+must have despised them. Youth is the only season when love is wisdom,
+Vixen. In later life it means folly and drivelling, wrinkles badly
+hidden under paint, pencilled eyebrows, and false hair. Aphrodite
+should be for ever young."
+
+"Perhaps that's why the poor thing puts on paint and false hair when
+she finds youth departed," said Vixen.
+
+"Then she is no longer Aphrodite, but Venus Pandemos, and a wicked old
+harridan," answered Rorie.
+
+And then he began to sing, with a rich full voice that rolled far upon
+the still air.
+
+
+  "Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
+  Old Time is still a-flying;
+  And this same flower that smiles to-day
+  To-morrow will be dying,
+
+  "Then be not coy, but use your time,
+  And while ye may, go marry;
+  For having lost but once your prime,
+  You may for ever tarry."
+
+
+"What a fine voice you have, Rorie!" cried Vixen.
+
+"Have I really? I thought that it was only Lord Mallow who could sing.
+Do you know that I was desperately jealous of that nobleman, once--when
+I fancied he was singing himself into your affections. Little did I
+think that he was destined to become your greatest benefactor."
+
+"I shall make you sing duets with me, sir, by-and-by."
+
+"You shall make me stand on my head, or play clown in an amateur
+pantomime, or do anything supremely ridiculous, if you like. 'Being
+your slave what can I do----'"
+
+"Yes, you must sing Mendelssohn with me. 'I would that my love,' and
+'Greeting.'"
+
+"I have only one idea of greeting, after a cruel year of parting and
+sadness," said Rorie, drawing the bright young face to his own, and
+covering it with kisses.
+
+Again Vixen urged that Miss Skipwith would be wondering, and this time
+with such insistence, that Rorie was obliged to turn back and ascend
+the hill.
+
+"How cruel it is of you to snatch a soul out of Elysium," he
+remonstrated. "I felt as if I was lost in some happy dream--wandering
+down this path, which leads I know not where, into a dim wooded vale,
+such as the fairies love to inhabit?"
+
+"The road leads down to the inn at Le Tac, where Cockney excursionists
+go to eat lobsters, and play skittles," said Vixen, laughing at her
+lover.
+
+They went back to the manor house, where they found Miss Skipwith
+annotating a tremendous manuscript on blue foolscap, a work whose
+outward semblance would have been enough to frighten and deter any
+publisher in his right mind.
+
+"How late you are, Violet," she said, looking up dreamily from her
+manuscript. "I have been rewriting and polishing portions of my essay
+on Buddha. The time has flown, and I had no idea of the hour till
+Doddery came in just now to ask if he could shut up the house. And then
+I remembered that you had gone out to the gate to watch for Mr.
+Vawdrey."
+
+"I'm afraid you must think our goings on rather eccentric," Rorie began
+shyly; "but perhaps Vix----Miss Tempest has told you what old friends
+we are; that, in fact, I am quite the oldest friend she has. I came to
+Jersey on purpose to ask her to marry me, and she has been good
+enough"--smiling blissfully at Vixen, who tried to look daggers at
+him--"to say Yes."
+
+"Dear me!" exclaimed Miss Skipwith, looking much alarmed; "this is very
+embarrassing. I am so unversed in such matters. My life has been given
+up to study, far from the haunts of man. My nephew informed me that
+there was a kind of--in point of fact--a flirtation between Miss
+Tempest and a gentleman in Hampshire, of which he highly disapproved,
+the gentleman being engaged to marry his cousin."
+
+"It was I," cried Rorie, "but there was no flirtation between Miss
+Tempest and me. Whoever asserted such a thing was a slanderer and----I
+won't offend you by saying what he was, Miss Skipwith. There was no
+flirtation. I was Miss Tempest's oldest friend--her old playfellow, and
+we liked to see each other, and were always friendly together. But it
+was an understood thing that I was to marry my cousin. It was Miss
+Tempest's particular desire that I should keep an engagement made
+beside my mother's death-bed. If Miss Tempest had thought otherwise, I
+should have been at her feet. I would have flung that engagement to the
+winds; for Violet Tempest is the only woman I ever loved. And now all
+the world may know it, for my cousin has jilted me, and I am a free
+man."
+
+"Good gracious! Can I really believe this?" asked Miss Skipwith,
+appealing to Violet.
+
+"Rorie never told a falsehood in his life," Vixen answered proudly.
+
+"I feel myself in a most critical position, my dear child," said Miss
+Skipwith, looking from Roderick's frank eager face to Vixen's downcast
+eyelids and mantling blushes. "I had hoped such a different fate for
+you. I thought the thirst for knowledge had arisen within you, that the
+aspiration to distinguish yourself from the ruck of ignorant women
+would follow the arising of that thirst, in natural sequence. And here
+I find you willing to marry a gentleman who happens to have been the
+companion of your childhood, and to resign--for his sake--all hopes of
+distinction."
+
+"My chances of distinction were so small, dear Miss Skipwith," faltered
+Vixen. "If I had possessed your talents!"
+
+"True," sighed the reformer of all the theologies. "We have not all the
+same gifts. There was a day when I thought it would be my lot to marry
+and subside into the dead level of domesticity; but I am thankful to
+think I escaped the snare."
+
+"And the gentleman who wanted to marry you, how thankful must he be!"
+thought Rorie dumbly.
+
+"Yet there have been moments of depression when I have been weak enough
+to regret those early days," sighed Miss Skipwith. "At best our
+strength is tempered with weakness. It is the fate of genius to be
+lonely. And now I suppose I am to lose you, Violet?"
+
+"I am summoned home to poor mamma," said Vixen.
+
+"And after poor mamma has recovered, as I hope she speedily may, Violet
+will be wanted by her poor husband," said Rorie. "You must come across
+the sea and dance at our wedding, Miss Skipwith."
+
+"Ah," sighed Miss Skipwith, "if you could but have waited for the
+establishment of my universal church, what a grand ceremonial your
+marriage might have been!"
+
+Miss Skipwith, though regretful, and inclined to take a dismal view of
+the marriage state and its responsibilities under the existing
+dispensation, was altogether friendly. She had a frugal supper of cold
+meat and salad, bread and cheese and cider, served in honour of Mr.
+Vawdrey, and they three sat till midnight talking happily--Miss
+Skipwith of theology, the other two of themselves and the smiling
+future, and such an innocent forest life as Rosalind and Orlando may
+have promised themselves, when they were deep in love, and the banished
+duke's daughter sighed for no wider kingdom than a shepherd's hut in
+the woodland, with the lover of her choice.
+
+There were plenty of spare bedrooms at the manor house, but so bare and
+empty, so long abandoned of human occupants, as to be fit only for the
+habitation of mice and spiders, stray bat or wandering owl. So Roderick
+had to walk down the hill again to St. Helier's, where he found
+hospitality at an hotel. He was up betimes, too happy to need much
+sleep, and at seven o'clock he and Vixen were walking in the dewy
+garden, planning the wonderful life they were to lead at Briarwood, and
+all the good they were to do. Happiness was to radiate from their home,
+as heat from the sun. The sick, and the halt, and the lame were to come
+to Briarwood; as they had come to the Abbey House before Captain
+Winstanley's barren rule of economy.
+
+"God has been so good to us, Rorie," said Vixen, nestling at her lover's
+side. "Can we ever be good enough to others?"
+
+"We'll do our best, anyhow, little one," he answered gently. "I am not
+like Mallow, I've no great ideas about setting my native country in
+order and doing away with the poor laws; but I've always tried to make
+the people round me happy, and to keep them out of the workhouse and
+the county jail."
+
+They went to the court-yard where poor Argus lived his life of
+isolation, and they told him they were going to be married, and that
+his pathway henceforward would be strewn with roses, or at all events
+Spratt's biscuits. He was particularly noisy and demonstrative, and
+appeared to receive this news with a wild rapture that was eminently
+encouraging, doing his best to knock Roderick down, in the tumult of
+his delight. The lovers and the dog were alike childish in their
+infinite happiness, unthinking beings of the present hour, too happy to
+look backward or forward, this little space of time called "now"
+holding all things needful for delight.
+
+These are the rare moments of life, to which the heart of man cries,
+"Oh stay, thou art so beautiful!" and could the death-bell toll then,
+and doom come then, life would end in a glorious euthanasia.
+
+Violet's portmanteaux were packed. All was ready. There would be just
+time for a hurried breakfast with Miss Skipwith, and then the fly from
+St. Helier's would be at the gate to carry the exile on the first stage
+of the journey home.
+
+"Poor mamma!" sighed Vixen. "How wicked of me to feel go happy, when
+she is ill."
+
+And then Rorie comforted her with kindly-meant sophistries. Mrs.
+Winstanley's indisposition was doubtless more an affair of the nerves
+than a real illness. She would be cheered and revived immediately by
+her daughter's return.
+
+"How could she suppose she would be able to live without you!" cried
+Rorie. "I know I found life hard to bear."
+
+"Yet you bore it for more than a year with admirable patience,"
+retorted Vixen, laughing at him; "and I do not find you particularly
+altered or emaciated."
+
+"Oh, I used to eat and drink," said Rorie, with a look of
+self-contempt. "I'm afraid I'm a horribly low-minded brute. I used even
+to enjoy my dinner, sometimes, after a long country ride; but I could
+never make you understand what a bore life was to me all last year, how
+the glory and enjoyment seemed to have gone out of existence. The
+dismal monotony of my days weighed upon me like a nightmare. Life had
+become a formula. I felt like a sick man who has to take so many doses
+of medicine, so many pills, so many basins of broth, in the twenty-four
+hours. There was no possible resistance. The sick-nurse was there, in
+the shape of Fate, ready to use brute force if I rebelled. I never did
+rebel. I assure you, Vixen, I was a model lover. Mabel and I had not a
+single quarrel. I think that is a proof that we did not care a straw
+for each other."
+
+"You and I will have plenty of quarrels," said Vixen. "It will be so
+nice to make friends again."
+
+Now came the hurried breakfast--a cup of tea drunk, standing, not a
+crumb eaten; agitated adieux to Miss Skipwith, who wept very womanly
+tears over her departing charge, and uttered good wishes in a choking
+voice. Even the Dodderys seemed to Vixen more human than usual, now
+that she was going to leave them, in all likelihood for ever. Miss
+Skipwith came to the gate to see the travellers off, and ascended the
+pilgrim's bench in order to have the latest view of the fly. From this
+eminence she waved her handkerchief as a farewell salutation.
+
+"Poor soul!" sighed Vixen; "she has never been unkind to me; but oh!
+what a dreary life I have led in that dismal old house!"
+
+They had Argus in the fly with them, sitting up, with his mouth open,
+and his tail flapping against the bottom of the vehicle in perpetual
+motion. He kept giving his paw first to Vixen and then to Rorie, and
+exacted a great deal of attention, insomuch that Mr. Vawdrey exclaimed:
+
+"Vixen, if you don't keep that dog within bounds, I shall think him as
+great a nuisance as a stepson. I offered to marry you, you know, not
+you and your dog."
+
+"You are very rude!" cried Vixen.
+
+"You don't expect me to be polite, I hope. What is the use of marrying
+one's old playfellow if one cannot be uncivil to her now and then? To
+me you will always be the tawny-haired little girl I used to tease."
+
+"Who used to tease you, you mean. You were very meek in those days."
+
+Oh, what a happy voyage that was, over the summer sea! They sat side by
+side upon the bridge, sheltered from wind and sun, and talked the happy
+nonsense lovers talk: but which can hardly be so sweet between lovers
+whose youth and childhood have been spent far apart, as between these
+two who had been reared amidst the same sylvan world, and had every
+desire and every thought in unison. How brief the voyage seemed. It was
+but an hour or so since Roderick had been buying peaches and grapes, as
+they lay at the end of the pier at Guernsey, and here were the Needles
+and the chalky cliffs and undulating downs of the Wight. The Wight!
+That meant Hampshire and home!
+
+"How often those downs have been our weather-glass, Rorie, when we have
+been riding across the hills between Lyndhurst and Beaulieu," said
+Vixen.
+
+She had a world of questions to ask him about all that had happened
+during her exile. She almost expected to hear that Lyndhurst steeple
+had fallen; that the hounds had died of old age; that the Knightwood
+Oak had been struck by lightning; or that some among those calamities
+which time naturally brings had befallen the surroundings of her home.
+It was the strangest thing in the world to hear that nothing had
+happened, that everything was exactly the same as it had been when she
+went away. That dreary year of exile had seemed long enough for
+earthquakes and destructions, or even for slow decay.
+
+"Do you know what became of Arion?" asked Vixen, almost afraid to shape
+the question.
+
+"Oh, I believe he was sold, soon after you left home," Rorie answered
+carelessly.
+
+"Sold!" echoed Vixen drearily. "Poor dear thing! Yes, I felt sure
+Captain Winstanley would sell him. But I hoped----"
+
+"What?"
+
+"That some one I knew might buy him. Lord Mallow perhaps."
+
+"Lord Mallow! Ah, you thought he would buy your horse, for love of the
+rider. But you see constancy isn't one of that noble Irishman's
+virtues. He loves and he rides away--when the lady won't have him, bien
+entendu. No, Arion was sent up to Tattersall's, and disposed of in the
+usual way. Some fellow bought him for a covert hack."
+
+"I hope the man wasn't a heavy weight," exclaimed Vixen, almost in
+tears.
+
+She thought Rorie was horribly unfeeling.
+
+"What does it matter? A horse must earn his salt."
+
+"I had rather my poor pet had been shot, and buried in one of the
+meadows at home," said Vixen plaintively.
+
+"Captain Winstanley was too wise to allow that. Your poor pet fetched a
+hundred and forty-five guineas under the hammer."
+
+"I don't think it is very kind of you to talk of him so lightly," said
+Vixen.
+
+This was the only little cloud that came between them in all the
+voyage. Long before sunset they were steaming into Southampton Water,
+and the yellow light was still shining on the furzy levels, when the
+brougham that contained Vixen and her fortunes drove along the road to
+Lyndhurst.
+
+She had asked the coachman for news of his mistress, and had been told
+that Mrs. Winstanley was pretty much the same. The answer was in some
+measure reassuring: yet Violet's spirits began to sink as she drew
+nearer home, and must so soon find herself face to face with the truth.
+There was a sadness too in that quiet evening hour; and the shadowy
+distances seemed full of gloom, after the dancing waves, and the gay
+morning light.
+
+The dusk was creeping slowly on as the carriage passed the lodge, and
+drove between green walls of rhododendron to the house. Captain
+Winstanley was smoking his cigar in the porch, leaning against the
+Gothic masonry, in the attitude Vixen knew so well of old.
+
+"If my mother were lying in her coffin I daresay he would be just the
+same," she thought bitterly.
+
+The Captain came down to open the carriage-door. Vixen's first glance
+at his face showed her that he looked worn and anxious.
+
+"Is mamma very ill?" she asked tremulously.
+
+"Very ill," he answered, in a low voice. "Mind, you are to do or say
+nothing that can agitate her. You must be quiet and cheerful. If you
+see a change you must take care to say nothing about it."
+
+"Why did you leave me so long in ignorance of her illness? Why did you
+not send for me sooner?"
+
+"Your mother has only been seriously ill within the past few days. I
+sent for you directly I saw any occasion for your presence," the
+Captain answered coldly.
+
+He now for the first time became aware of Mr. Vawdrey, who had got out
+of the brougham on the other side and came round to assist in the
+unshipment of Violet's belongings.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Vawdrey. Where in Heaven's name did you spring
+from?" he inquired, with a vexed air.
+
+"I have had the honour of escorting Miss Tempest from Jersey, where I
+happened to be when she received your telegram."
+
+"Wasn't that rather an odd proceeding, and likely to cause scandal?"
+
+"I think not; for before people can hear that Miss Tempest and I
+crossed in the same boat I hope they will have heard that Miss Tempest
+and I are going to be married."
+
+"I see," cried the Captain, with a short laugh of exceeding bitterness;
+"being off with the old love you have made haste to be on with the new."
+
+"I beg your pardon. It is no new love, but a love as old as my
+boyhood," answered Rorie. "In one weak moment of my life I was foolish
+enough to let my mother choose a wife for me, though I had made my own
+choice, unconsciously, years before."
+
+"May I go to mamma at once?" asked Vixen.
+
+The Captain said Yes, and she went up the staircase and along the
+corridor to Mrs. Winstanley's room. Oh, how dear and familiar the old
+house looked, how full of richness and colour after the bareness and
+decay of Les Tourelles; brocaded curtains hanging in heavy folds
+against the carved oaken framework of a deep-set window; gleams of
+evening light stealing through old stained glass; everywhere a rich
+variety of form and hue that filled and satisfied the eye; a house
+worth living in assuredly, with but a little love to sanctify and
+hallow all these things. But how worthless these things if discord and
+hatred found a habitation among them.
+
+The door of Mrs. Winstanley's room stood half open, and the lamplight
+shone faintly from within. Violet went softly in. Her mother was lying
+on a sofa by the hearth, where a wood-fire had been newly lighted.
+Pauline was sitting opposite her, reading aloud in a very sleepy voice
+out of the _Court Journal:_ "The bride was exquisitely attired in ivory
+satin, with flounces of old _Duchesse_ lace, the skirt covered with
+_tulle_, _bouilloné_, and looped with garlands of orange-blossom----"
+
+"Pauline," murmured the invalid feebly, "will you never learn to read
+with expression? You are giving me the vaguest idea of Lady Evelyn
+Fitzdamer's appearance."
+
+Violet went over to the sofa and knelt by her mother's side and
+embraced her tenderly, looking at her earnestly all the while, in the
+clear soft lamp-light. Yes, there was indeed a change. The always
+delicate face was pinched and shrunken. The ivory of the complexion had
+altered to a dull gray. Premature age had hollowed the cheeks, and
+lined the forehead. It was a change that meant decline and death.
+Violet's heart sank as she beheld it: but she remembered the Captain's
+warning, and bravely strove to put on an appearance of cheerfulness.
+
+"Dear mother, I am so happy to come home to you," she said gaily; "and
+I am going to nurse and pet you, for the next week or so; till you get
+tremendously well and strong, and are able to take me to innumerable
+parties."
+
+"My dear Violet, I have quite given up parties; and I shall never be
+strong again."
+
+"Dearest, it has always been your habit to fancy yourself an invalid."
+
+"Yes, Violet, once I may have been full of fancies: but now I know that
+I am ill. You will not be unkind or unjust to Conrad, will you, dear?
+He sent for you directly I asked him. He has been all goodness to me.
+Try and get on with him nicely, dear, for my sake."
+
+This was urged with such piteous supplication, that it would have
+needed a harder heart than Violet's to deny the prayer.
+
+"Dear mother, forget that the Captain and I ever quarrelled," said
+Vixen. "I mean to be excellent friends with him henceforward. And,
+darling, I have a secret to tell you if you would like to hear it."
+
+"What secret, dear?"
+
+"Lady Mabel Ashbourne has jilted Roderick!"
+
+"My love, that is no secret. I heard all about it day before yesterday.
+People have talked of nothing else since it happened. Lady Mabel has
+behaved shamefully."
+
+"Lady Mabel has behaved admirably. If other women were wise enough to
+draw back at the last moment there would be fewer unhappy marriages.
+But Lady Mabel's elopement is only the prologue to my story."
+
+"What can you mean, child?"
+
+"Roderick came to Jersey to make me an offer."
+
+"So soon! Oh, Violet, what bad taste!"
+
+"Ought he to have gone into mourning? He did not even sing willow, but
+came straight off to me, and told me he had loved me all his life; so
+now you will have my _trousseau_ to think about, dearest, and I shall
+want all your good taste. You know how little I have of my own."
+
+"Ah, Violet, if you had only married Lord Mallow! I could have given my
+whole mind to your _trousseau_ then; but it is too late now, dear. I
+have not strength enough to interest myself in anything."
+
+The truth of this complaint was painfully obvious. Pamela's day was
+done. She lay, half effaced among her down pillows, as weak and
+helpless-looking as a snowdrop whose stem is broken. The life that was
+left in her was the merest remnant of life. It was as if one could see
+the last sands running down in the glass of time.
+
+Violet sat by her side, and pressed her cold hands in both her own.
+Mrs. Winstanley was very cold, although the log had blazed up fiercely,
+and the room seemed stifling to the traveller who had come out of the
+cool night air.
+
+"Dear mother, there will be no pleasure for me in being married if you
+do not take an interest in my _trousseau_," pleaded Vixen, trying to
+cheer the invalid by dwelling on the things her soul had most loved in
+health.
+
+"Do not talk about it, my dear," her mother exclaimed peevishly. "I
+don't know where the money is to come from. Theodore's bill was
+positively dreadful. Poor Conrad had quite a struggle to pay it. You
+will be rich when you are of age, but we are awfully poor. If we do not
+save money during the next few years we shall be destitute. Conrad says
+so. Fifteen hundred a year, and a big house like this to maintain. It
+would be starvation. Conrad has closed Theodore's account. I am sure I
+don't know where your _trousseau_ is to come from."
+
+Here the afflicted Pamela began to sob hysterically, and Vixen found it
+hard work to comfort her.
+
+"My dearest mother, how can you be poor and I rich?" she said, when the
+invalid had been tranquillised, and was lying helpless and exhausted.
+"Do you suppose I would not share my income with you? Rorie has plenty
+of money. He would not want any of mine. You can have it all, if you
+like."
+
+"You talk like a child, Violet. You know nothing of the world. Do you
+think I would take your money, and let people say I robbed my own
+daughter? I have a little too much self-respect for that. Conrad is
+doing all he can to make our future comfortable. I have been foolish
+and extravagant. But I shall never be so any more. I do not care about
+dress or society now. I have outlived those follies."
+
+"Dear mother, I cannot bear to hear you talk like that," said Vixen,
+feeling that when her mother left off caring about fine dresses she
+must be getting ready for that last garment which we must all wear some
+day, the fashion whereof changes but little. "Why should you relinquish
+society, or leave off dressing stylishly? You are in the prime of life."
+
+"No, Violet, I am a poor faded creature," whimpered Mrs. Winstanley,
+"stout women are handsome at forty, or even"--with a
+shudder--"five-and-forty. The age suits their style. But I was always
+slim and fragile, and of late I have grown painfully thin. No one but a
+Parisian dressmaker could make me presentable; and I have done with
+Paris dresses. The utmost I can hope for is to sit alone by the
+fireside, and work antimacassars in crewels."
+
+"But, dear mother, you did not marry Captain Winstanley in order to
+lead such a life as that? You might as well be in a _béguinage_."
+
+Vain were Vixen's efforts to console and cheer. A blight had fallen
+upon her mother's mind and spirits--a blight that had crept slowly on,
+unheeded by the husband, till one morning the local practitioner--a
+gentleman who had lived all his life among his patients, and knew them
+so well externally that he might fairly be supposed to have a minute
+acquaintance with their internal organism--informed Captain Winstanley
+that he feared there was something wrong with his wife's heart, and
+that he thought that it would be well to get the highest opinion.
+
+The Captain, startled out of his habitual self-command, looked up from
+his desk with an ashy countenance.
+
+"Do you mean that Mrs. Winstanley has heart disease--something
+organically wrong?"
+
+"Unhappily I fear it is so. I have been for some time aware that she
+had a weak heart. Her complexion, her feeble circulation, several
+indications have pointed to that conclusion. This morning I have made a
+thorough examination, and I find mischief, decided mischief."
+
+"That means she may die at any moment, suddenly, without an instant's
+warning."
+
+"There would always be that fear. Or she might sink gradually from want
+of vital power. There is a sad deficiency of power. I hardly ever knew
+anyone remain so long in so low a state."
+
+"You have been attending her, off and on, ever since our marriage. You
+must have seen her sinking. Why have you not warned me before?"
+
+"It seemed hardly necessary. You must have perceived the change
+yourself. You must have noticed her want of appetite, her distaste for
+exertion of any kind, her increasing feebleness."
+
+"I am not a doctor."
+
+"No; but these are things that speak plainly to every eye--to the eye
+of affection most of all."
+
+"We are slow to perceive the alteration in anyone we see daily and
+hourly. You should have drawn my attention to my wife's health. It is
+unfair, it is horrible to let this blow come upon me unawares."
+
+If the Captain had appeared indifferent hitherto, there was no doubt of
+the intensity of his feeling now. He had started up from his chair, and
+walked backwards and forwards, strongly agitated.
+
+"Shall we have another opinion?" asked Dr. Martin.
+
+"Certainly. The highest in the land."
+
+"Dr. Lorrimer, of Harley Street, is the most famous man for heart
+disease."
+
+"I'll telegraph to him immediately," said the Captain.
+
+He ordered his horse, rode into Lyndhurst and dispatched his telegram
+without the loss of a minute. Never had Dr. Martin seen anyone more in
+earnest, or more deeply stricken by an announcement of evil.
+
+"Poor fellow, he must be very fond of her," mused the surgeon, as he
+rode off to his next call. "And yet I should have thought she must be
+rather a tiresome kind of woman to live with. Her income dies with her
+I suppose. That makes a difference."
+
+The specialist from Harley Street arrived at the Abbey House on the
+following afternoon. He made his examination and gave his opinion,
+which was very much the same as Dr. Martin's, but clothed in more
+scientific language.
+
+"This poor lady's heart has been wearing out for the last twenty
+years," he told the local surgeon; "but she seems, from your account,
+to have been using it rather worse for the last year or so. Do you know
+if she has had any particular occasion for worry?"
+
+"Her only daughter has not got on very well with the second husband, I
+believe," said Dr. Martin. "That may have worried her."
+
+"Naturally. Small domestic anxieties of that kind are among the most
+potent causes of heart disease." And then Dr. Lorrimer gave his
+instructions about treatment. He had not the faintest hope of saving
+the patient, but he gave her the full benefit of his science. A man
+could scarcely come so far and do less. When he went out into the hall
+and met the Captain, who was waiting anxiously for his verdict, he
+began in the usual oracular strain; but Captain Winstanley cut him
+short without ceremony.
+
+"I don't want to hear details," he said. "Martin will do everything you
+tell him. I want the best or the worst you can tell me in straightest
+language. Can you save my wife, or am I to lose her?"
+
+"My dear sir, while there is life there is hope," answered the
+physician, with the compassionate air that had grown habitual, like his
+black frock-coat and general sobriety of attire. "I have seen wonderful
+recoveries--or rather a wonderful prolongation of life, for cure is, of
+course, impossible--in cases as bad as this. But----"
+
+"Ah!" cried the Captain, bitterly, "there is a 'but.'"
+
+"In this case there is a sad want of rallying power. Frankly, I have
+very little hope. Do all you can to cheer and comfort your wife's mind,
+and to make her last days happy. All medicine apart, that is about the
+best advice I can give you."
+
+After this the doctor took his fee, gave the Captain's hand a cordial
+grip, expressive of sympathy and kindliness, and went his way, feeling
+assured that a good deal hung upon that little life which he had left
+slowly ebbing away, like a narrow rivulet dwindling into dryness under
+a July sun.
+
+"What does the London doctor say of me, Conrad?" asked Mrs. Winstanley,
+when her husband went to her presently, with his countenance composed
+and cheerful. "He tired me dreadfully with his stethoscope. Does he
+think me very ill? Is there anything wrong with my lungs?"
+
+"No, love. It is a case of weakness and languor. You must make up your
+mind to get strong; and you will do more for yourself than all the
+physicians in London can do."
+
+"But what does he say of my heart? How does he explain that dreadful
+fluttering--the suffocating sensation--the----?'
+
+"He explains nothing. It is a nervous affection, which you must combat
+by getting strong. Dear love!" exclaimed the Captain, with a very real
+burst of feeling, "what can I do to make your life happy? what can I do
+to assure you of my love?"
+
+"Send for Violet," faltered his wife, raising herself upon her elbow,
+and looking at him with timorous eagerness. "I have never been happy
+since she left us. It seems as if I had turned her out of doors--out of
+her own house--my kind husband's only daughter. It has preyed upon my
+mind continually, that--and other things."
+
+"Dearest, I will telegraph to her in an hour. She shall be with you as
+soon as the steamer can bring her."
+
+"A thousand thanks, Conrad. You are always good. I know I have been
+weak and foolish to think----"
+
+Here she hesitated, and tears began to roll down her hollow cheeks.
+
+"To think what, love?" asked her husband tenderly.
+
+If love, if tenderness, if flattery, if all sweetest things that ever
+man said to a woman could lure this feeble spirit back to life, she
+should be so won, vowed the Captain. He had never been unkind to her,
+or thought unkindly of her. If he had never loved her, he had, at
+least, been tolerant. But now, clinging to her as the representative of
+fortune, happiness, social status, he felt that she was assuredly his
+best and dearest upon earth.
+
+"To think that you never really cared for me!" she whimpered; "that you
+married me for the sake of this house, and my income!"
+
+"Pamela, do you remember what Tom Jones said to his mistress when she
+pretended to doubt his love?"
+
+"My dear Conrad, I never read 'Tom Jones,' I have heard dear Edward
+talk of it as if it was something too dreadful."
+
+"Ah, I forgot. Of course, it is not a lady's book. Tom told his Sophia
+to look in the glass, if she were inclined to question his love for
+her, and one look at her own sweet face would convince her of his
+truth. Let it be so with yourself, dear. Ask yourself why I should not
+love the sweetest and most lovable of women."
+
+If sugarplums of speech, if loverlike attentions could have cured
+Pamela Winstanley's mortal sickness, she might yet have recovered. But
+the hour had gone by when such medicaments might have prevailed. While
+the Captain had shot, and hunted, and caught mighty salmon, and
+invested his odd hundreds, and taken his own pleasure in various ways,
+with almost all the freedom of bachelor life, his wife had, unawares,
+been slowly dying. The light had burned low in the socket; and who
+shall reillumine that brief candle when its day is over? It needed now
+but a breath to quench the feeble flame.
+
+"Great Heaven!" cried Captain Winstanley, pacing up and down his study,
+distraught with the pangs of wounded self-interest; "I have been taking
+care of her money, when I ought to have taken care of her. It is her
+life that all hangs upon: and I have let that slip through my fingers
+while I have planned and contrived to save a few beggarly hundreds.
+Short-sighted idiot that I have been! Poor Pamela! And she has been so
+yielding, so compliant to my every wish! A month--a week, perhaps--and
+she will be gone: and that handsome spitfire will have the right to
+thrust me from this house. No, my lady, I will not afford you that
+triumph. My wife's coffin and I will go out together."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+"All the Rivers run into the Sea."
+
+For some days Violet's return seemed to have a happy effect upon the
+invalid. Never had daughter been more devoted, more loving, fuller of
+sweet cares and consolations for a dying mother, than this daughter.
+Seeing the mother and child together in this supreme hour, no onlooker
+could have divined that these two had been ever less fondly united than
+mother and child should be. The feeble and fading woman seemed to lean
+on the strong bright girl, to gain a reflected strength from her
+fulness of life and vigour. It was as if Vixen, with her shining hair
+and fair young face, brought healthful breezes into the sickly perfumed
+atmosphere of the invalid's rooms.
+
+Roderick Vawdrey had a hard time of it during these days of sadness and
+suspense. He could not deny the right of his betrothed to devote all
+her time and thought to a dying mother; and yet, having but newly won
+her for his very own, after dreary years of constraint and severance,
+he longed for her society as lover never longed before; or at least he
+thought so. He hung about the Abbey House all day, heedless of the
+gloomy looks he got from Captain Winstanley, and of the heavy air of
+sadness that pervaded the house, and was infinitely content and happy
+when he was admitted to Mrs. Winstanley's boudoir to take an afternoon
+cup of tea, and talk for half-an-hour or so, in subdued tones, with
+mother and daughter.
+
+"I am very glad that things have happened as they have, Roderick," Mrs.
+Winstanley said languidly; "though I'm afraid it would make your poor
+mamma very unhappy if she could know about it. She had so set her heart
+on your marrying Lady Mabel."
+
+"Forgetting that it was really my heart which was concerned in the
+business," said Rorie. "Dear Mabel was wise enough to show us all the
+easiest way out of our difficulties. I sent her my mother's emerald
+cross and earrings, the day before yesterday, with as pretty a letter
+as I could write. I think it was almost poetical."
+
+"And those emeralds of Lady Jane Vawdrey's are very fine," remarked
+Mrs. Winstanley. "I don't think there is a feather in one of the
+stones."
+
+"It was almost like giving away your property, wasn't it, Vixen?" said
+Rorie, looking admiringly at his beloved. "But I have a lot of my
+mother's jewels for you, and I wanted to send Mabel something, to show
+her that I was not ungrateful."
+
+"You acted very properly, Rorie; and as to jewellery, you know very
+well I don't care a straw for it."
+
+"It is a comfort to me to know you will have Lady Jane's pearl
+necklace," murmured Mrs. Winstanley. "It will go so well with my
+diamond locket. Ah, Rorie, I wish I had been strong enough to see to
+Violet's _trousseau_. It is dreadful to think that it may have to be
+made by a provincial dressmaker, and with no one to supervise and
+direct."
+
+"Dearest mother, you are going to supervise everything," exclaimed
+Vixen. "I shall not think of being married till you are well and strong
+again."
+
+"That will be never," sighed the invalid.
+
+Upon this point she was very firm. They all tried--husband, daughter,
+and friends--to delude her with false hopes, thinking thus to fan the
+flame of life and keep the brief candle burning a little longer. She
+was not deceived. She felt herself gradually, painlessly sinking. She
+complained but little; much less than in the days when her ailments had
+been in some part fanciful; but she knew very surely that her day was
+done.
+
+"It is very sweet to have you with me, Violet," she said. "Your
+goodness, and Conrad's loving attentions, make me very happy. I feel
+almost as if I should like to live a few years longer."
+
+"Only almost, mother darling?" exclaimed Violet reproachfully.
+
+"I don't know, dear. I have such a weary feeling; as if life at the
+very best were not worth the trouble it cost us. I shouldn't mind going
+on living if I could always lie here, and take no trouble about
+anything, and be nursed and waited upon, and have you or Conrad always
+by my side--but to get well again, and to have to get up, and go about
+among other people, and take up all the cares of life--no dear, I am
+much too weary for that. And then if I could get well to-morrow, old
+age and death would still be staring me in the face. I could not escape
+them. No, love, it is much better to die now, before I am very old, or
+quite hideous; even before my hair is gray."
+
+She took up one of the soft auburn tresses from her pillow, and looked
+at it, half sadly.
+
+"Your dear papa used to admire my hair, Violet," she said. "There are a
+few gray hairs, but you would hardly notice them; but my hair is much
+thinner than it used to be, and I don't think I could ever have made up
+my mind to wear false hair. It never quite matches one's own. I have
+seen Lady Ellangowan wearing three distinct heads of hair; and yet
+gentlemen admire her."
+
+Mrs. Winstanley was always at her best during those afternoon
+tea-drinkings. The strong tea revived her; Roderick's friendly face and
+voice cheered her. They took her back to the remote past, to the kind
+Squire's day of glory, which she remembered as the happiest time of her
+life; even now, when her second husband was doing all things possible
+to prove his sincerity and devotion. She had never been completely
+happy in this second marriage. There had always been a flavour of
+remorse mingled with her cup of joy; the vague consciousness that she
+had done a foolish thing, and that the world--her little world within a
+radius of twenty miles--was secretly laughing at her.
+
+"Do you remember the day we came home from our honeymoon, Conrad," she
+said to her husband, as he sat by her in the dusk one evening, sad and
+silent, "when there was no carriage to meet us, and we had to come home
+in a fly? It was an omen, was it not?"
+
+"An omen of what, dearest?"
+
+"That all things were not to go well with us in our married life; that
+we were not to be quite happy."
+
+"Have you not been happy, Pamela? I have tried honestly to do my duty
+to you."
+
+"I know you have, Conrad. You have been all goodness; I always have
+said so to Violet--and to everyone. But I have had my cares. I felt
+that I was too old for you. That has preyed upon my mind."
+
+"Was that reasonable, Pamela, when I have never felt it?"
+
+"Perhaps not at first; and even if you had felt the disparity in our
+ages you would have been too generous to let me perceive the change in
+your feelings. But I should have grown an old woman while you were
+still a young man. It would have been too dreadful. Indeed, dear, it is
+better as it is. Providence is very good to me."
+
+"Providence is not very good to me, in taking you from me," said the
+Captain, with a touch of bitterness.
+
+It seemed to him passing selfish in his wife to be so resigned to
+leaving life, and so oblivious of the fact that her income died with
+her, and that he was to be left out in the cold. One evening, however,
+when they were sitting alone together, this fact presented itself
+suddenly to her mind.
+
+"You will lose the Abbey House when I am gone, Conrad."
+
+"My love, do you think I could live in this house without you?"
+
+"And my income, Conrad; that dies with me, does it not?"
+
+"Yes, love."
+
+"That is hard for you."
+
+"I can bear that, Pamela, if I am to bear the loss of you."
+
+"Dearest love, you have always been disinterested. How could I ever
+doubt you? Perhaps--indeed I am sure--if I were to ask Violet, she
+would give you the fifteen hundred a year that I was to have had after
+she came of age."
+
+"Pamela, I could not accept any favour from your daughter. You would
+deeply offend me if you were to suggest such a thing."
+
+This was true. Much as he valued money, he would have rather starved
+than taken sixpence from the girl who had scorned him; the girl whose
+very presence gave rise to a terrible conflict in his
+breast--passionate love, bitterest antagonism.
+
+"There are the few things that I possess myself--jewels, books,
+furniture--special gifts of dear Edward's. Those are my own, to dispose
+of as I like. I might make a will leaving them to you, Conrad. They are
+trifles, but----"
+
+"They will be precious _souvenirs_ of our wedded life," murmured the
+Captain, who was very much of Mr. Wemmick's opinion, that portable
+property of any kind was worth having.
+
+A will was drawn up and executed next day, in which Mrs. Winstanley
+left her diamonds to her daughter, her wardrobe to the faithful and
+long-suffering Pauline--otherwise Mary Smith--and all the rest of her
+belongings to her dearly-beloved husband, Conrad Winstanley. The
+Captain was a sufficient man of business to take care that this will
+was properly executed.
+
+In all this time his daily intercourse with Violet was a source of
+exceeding bitterness. She was civil, and even friendly in her manner to
+him--for her mother's sake. And then, in the completeness of her union
+with Rorie, she could afford to be generous and forgiving. The old
+spirit of antagonism died out: her foe was so utterly fallen. A few
+weeks and the old home would be her own--the old servants would come
+back, the old pensioners might gather again around the kitchen-door.
+All could be once more as it had been in her father's lifetime; and no
+trace of Conrad Winstanley's existence would be left; for, alas! it was
+now an acknowledged fact that Violet's mother was dying. The most
+sanguine among her friends had ceased to hope. She herself was utterly
+resigned. She spent some part of each day in gentle religious exercises
+with kindly Mr. Scobel. Her last hours were as calm and reasonable as
+those of Socrates.
+
+So Captain Winstanley had to sit quietly by, and see Violet and her
+lover grouped by his fading wife's sofa, and school himself, as he best
+might, to endure the spectacle of their perfect happiness in each
+other's love, and to know that he--who had planned his future days so
+wisely, and provided, like the industrious ant, for the winter of his
+life--had broken down in his scheme of existence, after all, and had no
+more part in this house which he had deemed his own than a traveller at
+an inn.
+
+It was hard, and he sat beside his dying wife, with anger and envy
+gnawing his heart--anger against fate, envy of Roderick Vawdrey, who
+had won the prize. If evil wishes could have killed, neither Violet nor
+her lover would have outlived that summer. Happily the Captain was too
+cautious a man to be guilty of any overt act of rage or hatred. His
+rancorous feelings were decently hidden under a gentlemanly iciness of
+manner, to which no one could take objection.
+
+The fatal hour came unawares, one calm September afternoon, about six
+weeks after Violet's return from Jersey. Captain Winstanley had been
+reading one of Tennyson's idyls to his wife, till she sank into a
+gentle slumber. He left her, with Pauline seated at work by one of the
+windows, and went to his study to write some letters. Five o'clock was
+the established hour for kettledrum, but of late the invalid had been
+unable to bear even the mild excitement of two or three visitors at
+this time. Violet now attended alone to her mother's afternoon tea,
+kneeling by her side as she sipped the refreshing infusion, and coaxing
+her to eat a waferlike slice of bread-and-butter, or a few morsels of
+sponge-cake.
+
+This afternoon, when Violet went softly into the room, carrying the
+little Japanese tray and tiny teapot, she found her mother lying just
+as the Captain had left her an hour before.
+
+"She's been sleeping so sweetly, miss," whispered Pauline. "I never
+knew her sleep so quiet since she's been ill."
+
+That stillness which seemed so good a thing to the handmaid frightened
+the daughter. Violet set her tray down hastily on the nearest table,
+and ran to her mother's sofa. She looked at the pale and sunken cheek,
+just visible in the downy hollow of the pillows; she touched the hand
+lying on the silken coverlet. That marble coldness, that waxen hue of
+the cheek, told her the awful truth. She fell on her knees beside the
+sofa, with a cry of sharp and sudden sorrow.
+
+"Oh mother, mother! I ought to have loved you better all my life!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+The Bluebeard Chamber.
+
+The day before the funeral Captain Winstanley received a letter from
+his stepdaughter, offering to execute any deed he might choose to have
+prepared, settling upon him the income which his wife was to have had
+after Violet's majority.
+
+
+"I know that you are a heavy loser by my mother's death," she wrote,
+"and I shall be glad to do anything in my power to lessen that loss. I
+know well that it was her earnest wish that your future should be
+provided for. I told her a few days before she died that I should make
+you this offer. I do it with all my heart; and I shall consider myself
+obliged by your acceptance of it."
+
+
+The Captain's reply was brief and firm.
+
+
+"I thank you for your generous offer," he said, "which I feel assured
+is made in good faith; but I think you ought to know that there are
+reasons why it is impossible I should accept any benefit from your
+hand. I shall not re-enter the Abbey House after my wife's funeral. You
+will be sole and sovereign mistress of all things from that hour."
+
+
+He kept his word. He was chief mourner at the quiet but stately burial
+under the old yew-tree in Beechdale churchyard. When all was over he
+got into a fly, and drove to the station at Lyndhurst Road, whence he
+departed by the first train for London. He told no one anything about
+his plans for the future; he left no address but his club. He was next
+heard of six months later, in South America.
+
+Violet had telegraphed to her old governess directly after Mrs.
+Winstanley's death; and that good and homely person arrived on the day
+after the funeral, to take up her abode with her old pupil, as
+companion and chaperon, until Miss Tempest should have become Mrs.
+Vawdrey, and would have but one companion henceforward in all the
+journey of life. Rorie and Vixen were to be married in six months. Mrs.
+Winstanley had made them promise that her death should delay their
+marriage as little as possible.
+
+"You can have a very quiet wedding, you know, dear," she said. "You can
+be married in your travelling-dress--something pretty in gray silk and
+terry velvet, or with chinchilla trimming, if it should be winter.
+Chinchilla is so distinguished-looking. You will go abroad, I suppose,
+for your honeymoon. Pau, or Monaco, or any of those places on the
+Mediterranean."
+
+It had pleased her to settle everything for the lovers. Violet
+remembered all these speeches with a tender sorrow. There was comfort
+in the thought that her mother had loved her, according to her lights.
+
+It had been finally settled between the lovers that they were to live
+at the Abbey House. Briarwood was to be let to any wealthy individual
+who might desire a handsome house, surrounded by exquisitely arranged
+gardens, and burdened with glass that would cost a small fortune
+annually to maintain. Before Mr. Vawdrey could put his property into
+the hands of the auctioneers, he received a private offer which was in
+every respect satisfactory.
+
+Lady Mallow wished to spend some part of every year near her father and
+mother, who lived a good deal at Ashbourne, the Duke becoming yearly
+more devoted to his Chillingham oxen and monster turnips. Lord Mallow,
+who loved his native isle to distraction, but always found six weeks in
+a year a sufficient period of residence there, was delighted to please
+his bride, and agreed to take Briarwood, furnished, on a seven-years'
+lease. The orchid-houses were an irresistible attraction, and by this
+friendly arrangement Lady Mallow would profit by the alterations and
+improvements her cousin had made for her gratification, when he
+believed she was to be his wife.
+
+Briarwood thus disposed of, Rorie was free to consider the Abbey House
+his future home; and Violet had the happiness of knowing that the good
+old house in which her childhood had been spent would be her habitation
+always, till she too was carried to the family vault under the old
+yew-tree. There are people who languish for change, for whom the newest
+is ever the best; but it was not thus with Violet Tempest. The people
+she had known all her life, the scenes amidst which she had played when
+a child, were to her the dearest people and the loveliest scenes upon
+earth. It would be pleasant to her to travel with her husband, and see
+fair lands across the sea: but pleasanter still would be the
+home-coming to the familiar hearth beside which her father had sat, the
+old faces that had looked upon him, the hands that had served him, the
+gardens he had planted and improved.
+
+"I should like to show you Briarwood before it is let, Vixen," Mr.
+Vawdrey said to his sweetheart, one November morning. "You may at least
+pay my poor patrimony the compliment of looking at it before it becomes
+the property of Lord and Lady Mallow. Suppose you and Miss McCroke
+drive over and drink tea with me this afternoon? I believe my
+housekeeper brews pretty good tea."
+
+"Very well, Rorie, we'll come to tea. I should rather like to see the
+improvements you made for Lady Mabel, before your misfortune. I think
+Lord Mallow must consider it very good of you to let him have the
+benefit of all the money you spent, instead of bringing an action for
+breach of promise against his wife, as you might very well have done."
+
+"I daresay. But you see I am of a forgiving temper. Well, I shall tell
+my housekeeper to have tea and buns, and jam, and all the things
+children--and young ladies--like, at four o'clock. We had better make
+it four instead of five, as the afternoons are so short."
+
+"If you are impertinent we won't come."
+
+"Oh yes you will. Curiosity will bring you. Remember this will be your
+last chance of seeing the Bluebeard chamber at Briarwood."
+
+"Is there a Bluebeard chamber?"
+
+"Of course. Did you ever know of a family mansion without one?"
+
+Vixen was delighted at the idea of exploring her lover's domain, now
+that he and it were her own property. How well she remembered going
+with her father to the meet on Briarwood lawn. Yet it seemed a century
+ago--the very beginning of her life--before she had known sorrow.
+
+Miss McCroke, who was ready to do anything her pupil desired, was
+really pleased at the idea of seeing the interior of Briarwood.
+
+"I have never been inside the doors, you know, dear," she said, "often
+as I have driven past the gates with your dear mamma. Lady Jane Vawdrey
+was not the kind of person to invite a governess to go and see her. She
+was a strict observer of the laws of caste. The Duchess has much less
+pride."
+
+"I don't think Lady Jane ever quite forgave herself for marrying a
+commoner," said Vixen. "She revenged her own weakness upon other
+people."
+
+Violet had a new pair of ponies, which her lover had chosen for her,
+after vain endeavours to trace and recover the long-lost Titmouse.
+These she drove to Briarwood, Miss McCroke resigning herself to the
+will of Providence with a blind submission worthy of a Moslem; feeling
+that if it were written that she was to be flung head foremost out of a
+pony-carriage, the thing would happen sooner or later. Staying at home
+to-day would not ward off to-morrow's doom. So she took her place in
+the cushioned valley by Violet's side, and sat calm and still, while
+the ponies, warranted quiet to drive in single or double harness, stood
+up on end and made as if they had a fixed intention of scaling the
+rhododendron bank.
+
+"They'll settle down directly I've taken the freshness out of them,"
+said Vixen, blandly, as she administered a reproachful touch of the
+whip.
+
+"I hope they will," replied Miss McCroke; "but don't you think Bates
+ought to have seen the freshness taken out of them before we started?"
+
+They were soon tearing along the smooth Roman road at a splendid pace,
+"the ponies going like clockwork," as Vixen remarked approvingly; but
+poor Miss McCroke thought that any clock which went as fast as those
+ponies would be deemed the maddest of timekeepers.
+
+They found Roderick standing at his gates, waiting for them. There was
+a glorious fire in the amber and white drawing-room, a dainty tea table
+drawn in front of the hearth, the easiest of chairs arranged on each
+side of the table, an urn hissing, Rorie's favourite pointer stretched
+upon the hearth, everything cosy and homelike. Briarwood was not such a
+bad place after all, Vixen thought. She could have contrived to be
+happy with Roderick even here; but of course the Abbey House was, in
+her mind, a hundred times better, being just the one perfect home in
+the world.
+
+They all three sat round the fire, drinking tea, poured out by Vixen,
+who played the mistress of the house sweetly. They talked of old times,
+sometimes sadly, sometimes sportively, glancing swiftly from one old
+memory to another. All Rorie's tiresome ways, all Vixen's mischievous
+tricks, were remembered.
+
+"I think I led you a life in those days, didn't I, Rorie?" asked Vixen,
+leaving the teatray, and stealing softly behind her lover's chair to
+lean over his shoulder caressingly, and pull his thick brown beard.
+"There is nothing so delightful as to torment the person one loves best
+in the world. Oh, Rorie, I mean to lead you a life by-and-by!"
+
+"Dearest, the life you lead me must needs be sweet, for it will be
+spent with you."
+
+After tea they set out upon a round of inspection, and admired the new
+morning-room that had been devised for Lady Mabel, in the very latest
+style of Dutch Renaissance--walls the colour of muddy water, glorified
+ginger-jars, ebonised chairs and tables, and willow-pattern plates all
+round the cornice; curtains mud-colour, with a mediaeval design in
+dirty yellow, or, in upholsterer's language, "old gold."
+
+"I should like to show you the stables before it is quite dark," said
+Rorie presently. "I made a few slight improvements there while the
+builders were about."
+
+"You know I have a weakness for stables," answered Vixen. "How many a
+lecture I used to get from poor mamma about my unfortunate tastes. But
+can there be anything in the world nicer than a good old-fashioned
+stable, smelling of clover and newly-cut hay?"
+
+"Stables are very nice indeed, and very useful, in their proper place,"
+remarked Miss McCroke sententiously.
+
+"But one ought not to bring the stables into the drawing-room," said
+Vixen gravely. "Come, Rorie, let us see your latest improvements in
+stable-gear."
+
+They all went out to the stone-paved quadrangle, which was as neatly
+kept as a West-End livery-yard. Miss McCroke had an ever-present dread
+of the ubiquitous hind-legs of strange horses: but she followed her
+charge into the stable, with the same heroic fidelity with which she
+would have followed her to the scaffold or the stake.
+
+There were all Rorie's old favourites--Starlight Bess, with her shining
+brown coat, and one white stocking; Blue Peter, broad-chested,
+well-ribbed, and strong of limb; Pixie, the gray Arab mare, which Lady
+Jane used to drive in a park-phaeton--quite an ancient lady; Donald,
+the iron-sinewed hunter.
+
+Vixen knew them all, and went up to them and patted their graceful
+heads, and made herself at home with them.
+
+"You are all coming to the Abbey House to live, you dear things," she
+said delightedly.
+
+There was a loose-box, shut off by a five-foot wainscot partition,
+surmounted by a waved iron rail, at one end of the stable, and on
+approaching this enclosure Vixen was saluted with sundry grunts and
+snorting noises, which seemed curiously familiar.
+
+At the sound of these she stopped short, turning red, and then pale,
+and looked intently at Rorie, who was standing close by, smiling at her.
+
+"That is my Bluebeard chamber," he said gaily. "There's something too
+awful inside."
+
+"What horse have you got there?" cried Vixen eagerly.
+
+"A horse that I think will carry you nicely, when we hunt together."
+
+"What horse? Have I ever seen him? Do I know him?"
+
+The grunts and snortings were continued with a crescendo movement; an
+eager nose was rattling the latch of the door that shut off the
+loose-box.
+
+"If you have a good memory for old friends, I think you will know this
+one," said Rorie, withdrawing a bolt.
+
+A head pushed open the door, and in another moment Vixen's arms were
+round her old favourite's sleek neck, and the velvet nostrils were
+sniffing her hair and cheek, in most loving recognition.
+
+"You dear, dear old fellow!" cried Vixen; and then turning to Rorie:
+"You told me he was sold at Tattersall's!" she exclaimed.
+
+"So he was, and I bought him."
+
+"Why did you not tell me that?"
+
+"Because you did not ask me."
+
+"I thought you so unkind, so indifferent about him."
+
+"You were unkind when you could think it possible I should let your
+favourite horse fall into strange hands. But perhaps you would rather
+Lord Mallow had bought him?"
+
+"To think that you should have kept the secret all this time!" said
+Vixen.
+
+"You see I am not a woman, and can keep a secret. I wanted to have one
+little surprise for you, as a reward when you had been especially good.
+
+"You are good," she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him. "And though I
+have loved you all my life, I don't think I have loved you the least
+little bit too much."
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE.
+
+Vixen and Rorie were married in the spring, when the forest glades were
+yellow with primroses, the mossy banks blue with violets, and the
+cuckoo was heard with monotonous iteration from sunrise to sundown.
+They were married in the little village church at Beechdale, and Mrs.
+Scobel declared that Miss Tempest's wedding was the prettiest that ever
+had been solemnised in that small Gothic temple. Never, perhaps, even
+at Eastertide, had been seen such a wealth of spring blossoms, the
+wildlings of the woods and hills. The Duchess had offered the contents
+of her hot-houses, Lady Ellangowan had offered waggon-loads of azaleas
+and camellias, but Vixen had refused them all. She would allow no
+decorations but the wild flowers which the school-children could
+gather. Primroses, violets, bluebells, the firstlings of the fern
+tribe, cowslips, and all the tribe of innocent forest blossoms, with
+their quaint rustic names, most of them as old as Shakespeare.
+
+It was a very quiet wedding. Vixen would have no one present except the
+Scobels, Miss McCroke, her two bridesmaids, and Sir Henry Tolmash, an
+old friend of her father, who was to give her away. He was a
+white-haired old man, who had given his latter days up to farming, and
+had not a thought above turnips and top-dressing; but Violet honoured
+him, because he had been her father's oldest friend. For bride-maids
+she had Colonel Carteret's daughters, a brace of harmless young ladies,
+whose conversation was as stereotyped as a French and English
+vocabulary, but who dressed well and looked pretty.
+
+There was no display of wedding gifts, no ceremonious wedding
+breakfast. Vixen remembered the wedding feast at her mother's second
+marriage, and what a dreary ceremonial it had been.
+
+The bride wore her gray silk travelling-dress, with gray hat and
+feather, and she and her husband went straight from the church to the
+railway station, on their way to untrodden paths in the Engadine,
+whence they were to return at no appointed time.
+
+"We are coming back when we are tired of mountain scenery and of each
+other," Violet told Mrs. Scobel in the church porch.
+
+"That will be never!" exclaimed Rorie, looking ineffably happy, but not
+very much like a bride-groom, in his comfortable gray suit. "You might
+just as well say that we are going to live among the mountains as long
+as Rip Van Winkle. No, Mrs. Scobel, we are not going to remain away
+from you fifty years. We are coming back in time for the hunting."
+
+Then came kissing and handshaking, a shower of violets and primroses
+upon the narrow churchyard path, a hearty huzza from the assembled
+village, all clustered about the oaken gate-posts. The envious
+carriage-door shut in bride and bride-groom, the coachman touched his
+horses, and they were gone up the hill, out of the peaceful valley, to
+Lyndhurst and the railway.
+
+"How dreadfully I shall miss them," said Mrs. Scobel, who had spent
+much of her leisure with the lovers. "They are both so full of life and
+brightness!"
+
+"They are young and happy!" said her husband quietly. "Who would not
+miss youth and happiness?"
+
+
+When the first frosts had seared the beeches to a fiery red, and the
+berries were bright on the hawthorns, and the latest bloom of the
+heather had faded on hill and plain, and the happy pigs had devoured
+all the beech-nuts, Mr. Vawdrey and his wife came back from their
+exploration of Alpine snows and peaceful Swiss villages, to the good
+old Abbey House. Their six months' honeymoon had been all gladness.
+They were the veriest boy and girl husband and wife who had ever
+trodden those beaten tracks. They teased each other, and quarrelled,
+and made friends again like children, and were altogether happy. And
+now they came back to the Forest, bronzed by many a long day's
+sunshine, and glowing with health and high spirits. The glass of Time
+seemed to be turned backwards at the Abbey House; for all the old
+servants came back, and white-haired old Bates ruled in the well-filled
+stables, and all things were as in the dead and gone Squire's time.
+
+Among Roderick's wedding gifts was one from Lord Mallow: Bullfinch, the
+best horse in that nobleman's stable.
+
+
+"I know your wife would like you to have her father's favourite
+hunter," wrote Lord Mallow. "Tell her that he has never been sick or
+sorry since he has been in my stable, and that I have always taken
+particular care of him, for her sake."
+
+
+Among Violet's presents was a diamond bracelet from Lady Mallow,
+accompanied by a very cordial letter; and almost the first visit that
+the Vawdreys received after they came home was from Lord and Lady
+Mallow. The first great dinner to which they were bidden was at
+Briarwood, where it seemed a curious thing for Rorie to go as a guest.
+
+Matrimony with the man of her choice had wondrously improved Mabel
+Ashbourne. She was less self-sufficient and more conciliating. Her
+ambition, hitherto confined to the desire to excel all other women in
+her own person, had assumed a less selfish form. She was now only
+ambitious for her husband; greedy of parliamentary fame for him; full
+of large hopes about the future of Ireland. She looked forward
+complacently to the day when she and Lord Mallow would be reigning at
+Dublin Castle, and when Hibernian arts and industries would revive and
+flourish under her fostering care. Pending that happy state of things
+she wore Irish poplin, and Irish lace, Irish stockings, and Irish
+linen. She attended Her Majesty's Drawing-room on St. Patrick's Day,
+with a sprig of real shamrock--sent her by one of her husband's
+tenantry--among the diamonds that sparkled on her bosom. She was more
+intensely Irish than the children of the soil; just as converts to
+Romanism are ever more severely Roman than those born and nurtured in
+the faith.
+
+Her husband was intensely proud of his wife, and of his alliance with
+the house of Ashbourne. The Duke, at first inclined to resent the
+scandal of an elopement and the slight offered to his favourite, Rorie,
+speedily reconciled himself to a marriage which was more materially
+advantageous than the cousinly alliance.
+
+"I should like Rorie to have had Ashbourne," he said mournfully. "I
+think he would have kept up my breed of Chillingham cattle. Mallow's a
+good fellow, but he knows nothing about farming. He'll never spend
+enough money on manure to maintain the soil at its present producing
+power. The grasp of his mind isn't large enough to allow him to sink
+his money in manuring his land. He would be wanting to see an immediate
+result."
+
+As time went on the Duke became more and more devoted to his farm. His
+Scottish castle delighted him not, nor the grand old place in the
+Midlands. Ashbourne, which was the pleasure-dome he had built for
+himself, contained all he cared about. Too heavy and too lazy to hunt,
+he was able to jog about his farm, and supervise the work that was
+going on, to the smallest detail. There was not a foot of drain-pipe or
+a bit of thatch renewed on the whole estate, without the Duke having a
+finger in the pie. He bred fat oxen and prize cart-horses, and made a
+great figure at all the cattle-shows, and was happy. The Duchess, who
+had never believed her paragon capable of wrong-doing, had been
+infinitely shocked by Lady Mabel's desperate course; but it was not in
+her nature to be angry with that idolised daughter. She very soon came
+back to her original idea, that whatever Mabel Ashbourne did was right.
+And then the marriage was so thoroughly happy; and the world gladly
+forgives a scandal that ends so pleasantly.
+
+So Lord and Lady Mallow go their way--honoured, beloved, very active in
+good works--and the pleasant valleys around Mallow are dotted with red
+brick school-houses, and the old stone hovels are giving place to model
+cottages, and native industries receive all possible encouragement from
+the owner of the soil; and, afar off, in the coming years, the glories
+of Dublin Castle shine like the Pole Star that guides the wanderer on
+his way.
+
+In one thing only has Lady Mallow been false to the promise of her
+girlhood. She has not achieved success as a poet. The Duchess wonders
+vaguely at this, for though she had often found it difficult to keep
+awake during the rehearsal of her daughter's verses, she had a fixed
+belief in the excellence of those efforts of genius. The secret of Lady
+Mallow's silence rests between her husband and herself; and it is just
+possible that some too candid avowal of Lord Mallow's may be the reason
+of her poetic sterility. It is one thing to call the lady of one's
+choice a tenth muse before marriage, and another thing to foster a
+self-delusion in one's wife which can hardly fail to become a
+discordant element in domestic life. "If your genius had developed, and
+you had won popularity as a poet, I should have lost a perfect wife,"
+Lord Mallow told Mabel, when he wanted to put things pleasantly.
+"Literature has lost a star; but I have gained the noblest and sweetest
+companion Providence ever bestowed upon man." Lady Mallow has not
+degenerated into feminine humdrum. She assists in the composition of
+her husband's political pamphlets, which bristle with lines from
+Euripides, and noble thoughts from the German poets. She writes a good
+many of his letters, and is altogether his second self.
+
+While the Irishman and his wife pursue their distinguished career,
+Rorie and Vixen live the life they love, in the Forest where they were
+born, dispensing happiness within a narrow circle, but dearly loved
+wheresoever they are known; and the old men and women in the scattered
+villages round about the Abbey House rejoice in the good old times that
+have come again; just as hearty pleasure-loving England was glad when
+the stern rule of the Protector and his crop-headed saints gave place
+to the reign of the Merry King.
+
+From afar there comes news of Captain Winstanley, who has married a
+Jewish lady at Frankfort, only daughter and heiress of a well-known
+money-lender. The bride is reported ugly and illiterate; but there is
+no doubt as to her fortune. The Captain has bought a villa at Monaco--a
+villa in the midst of orange-groves, the abandoned plaything of an
+Austrian princess; and he has hired an apartment in one of the new
+avenues, just outside the Arc de Triomphe, where, as his friends
+anticipate, he will live in grand style, and receive the pleasantest
+people in Paris. He, too, is happy after his kind, and has won the
+twenty-thousand-pound prize in the lottery of life; but it is
+altogether a different kind of happiness from the simple and unalloyed
+delight of Rorie and Vixen, in their home among the beechen woods whose
+foliage sheltered them when they were children.
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER.
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note: Typographical errors silently corrected:
+
+volume 3 chapter 1: =an instant's delay?= replaced by
+                    =an instant's delay,=
+
+chapter 1: =latest fashion?= replaced by =latest fashion.=
+
+chapter 3: =like the Squires= replaced by =like the Squire's=
+
+epilogue: =young and happy!= replaced by =young and happy!"=
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Vixen, Volume III., by M. E. Braddon
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIXEN, VOLUME III. ***
+
+***** This file should be named 26238-8.txt or 26238-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/2/3/26238/
+
+Produced by Daniel Fromont.  HTML version by Al Haines.
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/26238-8.zip b/26238-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4b9d02e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26238-8.zip
diff --git a/26238-h.zip b/26238-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..307c2a3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26238-h.zip
diff --git a/26238-h/26238-h.htm b/26238-h/26238-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..45b26ad
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26238-h/26238-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,9454 @@
+<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN">
+<HTML>
+<HEAD>
+
+<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1">
+
+<TITLE>
+The Project Gutenberg E-text of Vixen, Volume III, by M. E. Braddon
+</TITLE>
+
+<STYLE TYPE="text/css">
+BODY { color: Black;
+       background: White;
+       margin-right: 10%;
+       margin-left: 10%;
+       font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;
+       text-align: justify }
+
+P {text-indent: 4% }
+
+P.noindent {text-indent: 0% }
+
+P.poem {text-indent: 0%;
+        margin-left: 10%;
+        font-size: small }
+
+P.letter {font-size: small ;
+          text-indent: 0%;
+          margin-left: 5% ;
+          margin-right: 5% }
+
+P.finis { text-align: center ;
+          text-indent: 0% ;
+          margin-left: 0% ;
+          margin-right: 0% }
+
+
+</STYLE>
+
+</HEAD>
+
+<BODY>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Vixen, Volume III., by M. E. Braddon
+
+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: Vixen, Volume III.
+
+Author: M. E. Braddon
+
+Release Date: August 9, 2008 [EBook #26238]
+[Last updated: July 2, 2013]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIXEN, VOLUME III. ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Daniel Fromont.  HTML version by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<BR><BR>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+COLLECTION
+<BR>
+OF
+<BR>
+BRITISH AUTHORS
+<BR><BR>
+TAUCHNITZ EDITION.
+<BR><BR>
+VOL. 1811.
+<BR><BR>
+VIXEN BY M. E. BRADDON
+<BR>
+IN THREE VOLUMES.
+<BR>
+VOL. III.
+</H4>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H1 ALIGN="center">
+VIXEN
+</H1>
+
+<BR>
+
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+A NOVEL
+</H2>
+
+<BR>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+BY
+</H3>
+
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+M.  E. BRADDON,
+</H2>
+
+<BR>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+AUTHOR OF "LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET," ETC. ETC.
+</H4>
+
+<BR>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+<I>COPYRIGHT EDITION</I>.
+</H4>
+
+<BR><BR>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+IN THREE VOLUMES.
+<BR>
+VOL. III.
+<BR><BR>
+LEIPZIG
+<BR>
+BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ
+<BR>
+1879.
+<BR><BR>
+<I>The Right of Translation is reserved</I>.
+</H4>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CONTENTS
+<BR>
+OF VOLUME III.
+</H2>
+
+<BR>
+
+<H3>
+CHAPTER I. <A HREF="#chap01">Going into Exile</A><BR>
+CHAPTER II. <A HREF="#chap02">Chiefly Financial</A><BR>
+CHAPTER III. <A HREF="#chap03">"With weary Days thou shalt be clothed and fed"</A><BR>
+CHAPTER IV. <A HREF="#chap04">Love and AEsthetics</A><BR>
+CHAPTER V. <A HREF="#chap05">Crumpled Rose-Leaves</A><BR>
+CHAPTER VI. <A HREF="#chap06">A Fool's Paradise</A><BR>
+CHAPTER VII. <A HREF="#chap07">"It might have been"</A><BR>
+CHAPTER VIII. <A HREF="#chap08">Wedding Bells</A><BR>
+CHAPTER IX. <A HREF="#chap09">The nearest Way to Norway</A><BR>
+CHAPTER X. <A HREF="#chap10">"All the Rivers run into the Sea"</A><BR>
+CHAPTER XI. <A HREF="#chap11">The Bluebeard Chamber</A><BR>
+<A HREF="#epilogue">Epilogue</A><BR>
+</H3>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H1 ALIGN="center">
+VIXEN.
+</H1>
+
+<BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap01"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER I.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+Going into Exile.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+After a long sleepless night of tossing to and fro, Vixen rose with the
+first stir of life in the old house, and made herself ready to face the
+bleak hard world. Her meditations of the night had brought no new light
+to her mind. It was very clear to her that she must go away&mdash;as far as
+possible&mdash;from her old home. Her banishment was necessary for
+everybody's sake. For the sake of Rorie, who must behave like a man of
+honour, and keep his engagement with Lady Mabel, and shut his old
+playfellow out of his heart. For the sake of Mrs. Winstanley, who could
+never be happy while there was discord in her home; and last of all,
+for Violet herself, who felt that joy and peace had fled from the Abbey
+House for ever, and that it would be better to be anywhere, in the
+coldest strangest region of this wide earth, verily friendless and
+alone among strange faces, than here among friends who were but friends
+in name, and among scenes that were haunted with the ghosts of dead
+joys.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She went round the gardens and shrubberies in the early morning,
+looking sadly at everything, as if she were bidding the trees and
+flowers a long farewell. The rhododendron thickets were shining with
+dew, the grassy tracks in that wilderness of verdure were wet and cold
+under Vixen's feet. She wandered in and out among the groups of wild
+growing shrubs, rising one above another to the height of forest trees,
+and then she went out by the old five-barred gate which Titmouse used
+to jump so merrily, and rambled in the plantation till the sun was
+high, and the pines began to breathe forth their incense as the day-god
+warmed them into life.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was half-past eight. Nine was the hour for breakfast, a meal at
+which, during the Squire's time, the fragile Pamela had rarely
+appeared, but which, under the present <I>régime</I>, she generally graced
+with her presence. Captain Winstanley was an early riser, and was not
+sparing in his contempt for sluggish habits.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Vixen had made up her mind never again to sit at meat with her
+stepfather; so she went straight to her own den, and told Phoebe to
+bring her a cup of tea.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't want anything else," she said wearily when the girl suggested
+a more substantial breakfast; "I should like to see mamma presently. Do
+you know if she has gone down?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, miss. Mrs. Winstanley is not very well this morning. Pauline has
+taken her up a cup of tea."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Vixen sat idly by the open window, sipping her tea, and caressing
+Argus's big head with a listless hand, waiting for the next stroke of
+fate. She was sorry for her mother, but had no wish to see her. What
+could they say to each other&mdash;they, whose thoughts and feelings were so
+wide apart? Presently Phoebe came in with a little three-cornered note,
+written in pencil.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pauline asked me to give you this from your ma, miss."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The note was brief, written in short gasps, with dashes between them.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="letter">
+"I feel too crushed and ill to see you&mdash;I have told Conrad what you
+wish&mdash;he is all goodness&mdash;he will tell you what we have decided&mdash;try to
+be worthier of his kindness&mdash;poor misguided child&mdash;he will see you in
+his study, directly after breakfast&mdash;pray control your unhappy temper."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"His study, indeed!" ejaculated Vixen, tearing up the little note and
+scattering its perfumed fragments on the breeze; "my father's room,
+which he has usurped. I think I hate him just a little worse in that
+room than anywhere else&mdash;though that would seem hardly possible, when I
+hate him so cordially everywhere."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She went to the looking-glass, and surveyed herself proudly as she
+smoothed her shining hair, resolved that he should see no indication of
+trouble or contrition in her face. She was very pale, but her tears of
+last night had left no traces. There was a steadiness in her look that
+befitted an encounter with an enemy. A message came from the Captain,
+while she was standing before her glass, tying a crimson ribbon under
+the collar of her white morning-dress.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Would she please to go to Captain Winstanley in the study? She went
+without an instant's delay, walked quietly into the room, and stood
+before him silently as he sat at his desk writing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good-morning, Miss Tempest," he said, looking up at her with his
+blandest air; "sit down, if you please. I want to have a chat with you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Vixen seated herself in her father's large crimson morocco chair. She
+was looking round the room absently, dreamily, quite disregarding the
+Captain. The dear old room was full of sadly sweet associations. For
+the moment she forgot the existence of her foe. His cold level tones
+recalled her thoughts from the lamented past to the bitter present.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your mother informs me that you wish to leave the Abbey House," he
+began; "and she has empowered me to arrange a suitable home for you
+elsewhere. I entirely concur in your opinion that your absence from
+Hampshire for the next year or so will be advantageous to yourself and
+others. You and Mr. Vawdrey have contrived to get yourselves
+unpleasantly talked about in the neighbourhood. Any further scandal may
+possibly be prevented by your departure."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is not on that account I wish to leave home," said Vixen proudly.
+"I am not afraid of scandal. If the people hereabouts are so wicked
+that they cannot see me riding by the side of an old friend for two or
+three days running without thinking evil of him and me, I am sorry for
+them, but I certainly should not regulate my life to please them. The
+reason I wish to leave the Abbey House is that I am miserable here, and
+have been ever since you entered it as its master. We may as well deal
+frankly with each other in this matter. You confessed last night that
+you hated me. I acknowledge to-day that I have hated you ever since I
+first saw you. It was an instinct."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We need not discuss that," answered the Captain calmly. He had let
+passion master him last night, but he had himself well in hand to-day.
+She might be as provoking as she pleased, but she should not provoke
+him to betray himself as he had done last night. He detested himself
+for that weak outbreak of passion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you arranged with my mother for my leaving home?" inquired Vixen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, it is all settled."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I'll write at once to Miss McCroke. I know she will leave the
+people she is with to travel with me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss McCroke has nothing to do with the question. You roaming about
+the world with a superannuated governess would be too preposterous. I
+am going to take you to Jersey by this evening's boat. I have an aunt
+living there who has a fine old manor house, and who will be happy to
+take charge of you. She is a maiden lady, a woman of superior
+cultivation, who devotes herself wholly to intellectual pursuits. Her
+refining influence will be valuable to you. The island is lovely, the
+climate delicious. You could not be better off than you will be at Les
+Tourelles."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not going to Jersey, and I am not going to your intellectual
+aunt," said Vixen resolutely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I beg your pardon, you are going, and immediately. Your mother and I
+have settled the matter between us. You have expressed a wish to leave
+home, and you will be pleased to go where we think proper. You had
+better tell Phoebe to pack your trunks. We shall leave here at ten
+o'clock in the evening. The boat starts from Southampton at midnight."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Vixen felt herself conquered. She had stated her wish, and it was
+granted; not in the mode and manner she had desired; but perhaps she
+ought to be grateful for release from a home that had become loathsome
+to her, and not take objection to details in the scheme of her exile.
+To go away, quite away, and immediately, was the grand point. To fly
+before she saw Rorie again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Heaven knows how weak I might be if he were to talk to me again as he
+talked last night!" she said to herself. "I might not be able to bear
+it a second time. Oh Rorie, if you knew what it cost me to counsel you
+wisely, to bid you do your duty; when the vision of a happy life with
+you was smiling at me all the time, when the warm grasp of your dear
+hand made my heart thrill with joy, what a heroine you would think me!
+And yet nobody will ever give me credit for heroism; and I shall be
+remembered only as a self-willed young woman, who was troublesome to
+her relations, and had to be sent away from home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was thinking this while she sat in her father's chair, deliberating
+upon the Captain's last speech. She decided presently to yield, and
+obey her mother and stepfather. After all, what did it matter where she
+went? That scheme of being happy in Sweden with Miss McCroke was but an
+idle fancy. In the depths of her inner consciousness Violet Tempest
+knew that she could be happy nowhere away from Rorie and the Forest.
+What did it matter, then, whether she went to Jersey or Kamtchatka, the
+sandy desert of Gobi or the Mountains of the Moon? In either case exile
+meant moral death, the complete renunciation of all that had been sweet
+and precious in her uneventful young life&mdash;the shadowy beech-groves;
+the wandering streams; the heathery upland plains; the deep ferny
+hollows, where the footsteps of humanity were almost unknown; the
+cluster of tall trees on the hill tops, where the herons came sailing
+home from their flight across Southampton Water; her childhood's
+companion; her horse; her old servants. Banishment meant a long
+farewell to all these.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose I may take my dog with me?" she asked, after a long pause,
+during which she had wavered between submission and revolt, "and my
+maid?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I see no objection to your taking your dog; though I doubt whether my
+aunt will care to have a dog of that size prowling about her house. He
+can have a kennel somewhere, I daresay. You must learn to do without a
+maid. Feminine helplessness is going out of fashion; and one would
+expect an Amazon like you to be independent of lady's-maids and
+milliners."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why don't you state the case in plain English?" cried Vixen
+scornfully. "If I took Phoebe with me she would cost money. There would
+be her wages and maintenance to be provided. If I leave her behind, you
+can dismiss her. You have a fancy for dismissing old servants."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Had you not better see to the packing of your trunks?" asked Captain
+Winstanley, ignoring this shaft.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is to become of my horse?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think you must resign yourself to leave him to fate and me," replied
+the Captain coolly; "my aunt may submit to the infliction of your dog,
+but that she should tolerate a young lady's roaming about the island on
+a thoroughbred horse would be rather too much to expect from her
+old-fashioned notions of propriety."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Besides, even Arion would cost something to keep," retorted Vixen,
+"and strict economy is the rule of your life. If you sell him&mdash;and, of
+course, you will do so&mdash;please let Lord Mallow have the refusal of him.
+I think he would buy him and treat him kindly, for my sake."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wouldn't you rather Mr. Vawdrey had him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, if I were free to give him away; but I suppose you would deny my
+right of property even in the horse my father gave me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, as the horse was not specified in your father's will, and as all
+his horses and carriages were left to your mother, I think there cannot
+be any doubt that Arion is my wife's property."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not say your property? Why give unnatural prominence to a cipher?
+Do you think I hold my poor mother to blame for any wrong that is done
+to me, or to others, in this house? No, Captain Winstanley, I have no
+resentment against my mother. She is a blameless nullity, dressed in
+the latest fashion."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Go and pack your boxes!" cried the Captain angrily. "Do you want to
+raise the devil that was raised last night? Do you want another
+conflagration? It might be a worse one this time. I have had a night of
+fever and unrest."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Am I to blame for that?'
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes&mdash;you beautiful fury. It was your image kept me awake. I shall
+sleep sounder when you are out of this house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall be ready to start at ten o'clock," said Vixen, in a
+business-like tone which curiously contrasted this sudden gust of
+passion on the part of her foe, and humiliated him to the dust. He
+loathed himself for having let her see her power to hurt him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She left him, and went straight upstairs to her room, and gave Phoebe
+directions about the packing of her portmanteaux, with no more outward
+semblance of emotion than she might have shown had she been starting on
+a round of pleasant visits under the happiest circumstances. The
+faithful Phoebe began to cry when she heard that Miss Tempest was going
+away for a long time, and that she was not to go with her; and poor
+Vixen had to console her maid instead of brooding upon her own griefs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never mind, Phoebe," she said; "it is as hard for me to lose you as it
+is for you to lose me. I shall never forget what a devoted little thing
+you have been, and all the muddy habits you have brushed without a
+murmur. A few years hence I shall be my own mistress, and have plenty
+of money, and then, wherever I may be, you shall come to me. If you are
+married you shall be my housekeeper, and your husband shall be my
+butler, and your children shall run wild about the place, and be made
+as much of as the litter of young foxes Bates reared in a corner of the
+stable-yard, when Mr. Vawdrey was at Eton."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, miss, I don't want no husband nor no children, I only want you for
+my missus. And when you come of age, will you live here, miss?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, Phoebe. The Abbey House will belong to mamma all her life. Poor
+mamma! may it be long before the dear old house comes to me. But when I
+am of age, and my own mistress I shall find a place somewhere in the
+Forest, you may be sure of that, Phoebe."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Phoebe dried her honest tears, and made haste with the packing,
+believing that Miss Tempest was leaving home for her own pleasure, and
+that she, Phoebe, was the only victim of adverse fate.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The day wore on quickly, though it was laden with sorrow. Vixen had a
+great deal to do in her den; papers to look over, old letters,
+pen-and-ink sketches, and scribblings of all kinds to destroy, books
+and photographs to pack. There were certain things she could not leave
+behind her. Then there was a melancholy hour to spend in the stable,
+feeding, caressing, and weeping over Arion, who snorted his tenderest
+snorts, and licked her hands with abject devotion&mdash;almost as if he knew
+they were going to part, Vixen thought.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Last of all came the parting with her mother. Vixen had postponed this
+with an aching dread of a scene, in which she might perchance lose her
+temper, and be betrayed into bitter utterances that she would
+afterwards repent with useless tears. She had spoken the truth to her
+stepfather when she told him that she held her mother blameless; yet
+the fact that she had but the smallest share in that mother's heart was
+cruelly patent to her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon when Pauline came to
+Violet's room with a message from Mrs. Winstanley. She had been very
+ill all the morning, Pauline informed Miss Tempest, suffering severely
+from nervous headache, and obliged to lie in a darkened room. Even now
+she was barely equal to seeing anyone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then she had better not see me," said Vixen icily; "I can write her a
+little note to say good-bye. Perhaps it would be just as well. Tell
+mamma that I will write, Pauline."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pauline departed with this message, and returned in five minutes with a
+distressed visage.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, miss!" she exclaimed, "your message quite upset your poor mamma.
+She said, 'How could she?' and began to get almost hysterical. And
+those hysterical fits end in such fearful headaches."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will come at once," said Vixen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Winstanley was lying on a sofa near an open window, the Spanish
+blinds lowered to exclude the afternoon sunshine, the perfume of the
+gardens floating in upon the soft summer air. A tiny teapot and cup and
+saucer on a Japanese tray showed that the invalid had been luxuriating
+in her favourite stimulant. There were vases of flowers about the room,
+and an all-pervading perfume and coolness&mdash;a charm half sensuous, half
+aesthetic.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Violet, how could you send me such a message?" remonstrated the
+invalid fretfully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear mamma, I did not want to trouble you. I know how you shrink from
+all painful things; and you and I could hardly part without pain, as we
+are parting to-day. Would it not have been better to avoid any
+farewell?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you had any natural affection, you would never have suggested such
+a thing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then perhaps I have never had any natural affection," answered Vixen,
+with subdued bitterness; "or only so small a stock that it ran out
+early in my life, and left me cold and hard and unloving. I am sorry we
+are parting like this, mamma. I am still more sorry that you could not
+spare me a little of the regard which you have bestowed so lavishly
+upon a stranger."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Violet, how can you?" sobbed her mother. "To accuse me of withholding
+my affection from you, when I have taken such pains with you from your
+very cradle! I am sure your frocks, from the day you were short-coated,
+were my constant care; and when you grew a big, lanky girl, who would
+have looked odious in commonplace clothes, it was my delight to invent
+picturesque and becoming costumes for you. I have spent hours poring
+over books of prints, studying Vandyke and Sir Peter Lely, and I have
+let you wear some of my most valuable lace; and as for indulgence of
+your whims! Pray when have I ever thwarted you in anything?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Forgive me, mamma!" cried Vixen penitently. She divined dimly&mdash;even in
+the midst of that flood of bitter feeling in which her young soul was
+overwhelmed&mdash;that Mrs. Winstanley had been a good mother, according to
+her lights. The tree had borne such fruit as was natural to its kind.
+"Pray forgive me! You have been good and kind and indulgent, and we
+should have gone on happily together to the end of the chapter, if fate
+had been kinder."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's no use your talking of fate in that way, Violet," retorted her
+mother captiously. "I know you mean Conrad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps I do, mamma; but don't let us talk of him any more. We should
+never agree about him. You and he can be quite happy when I am gone.
+Poor, dear, trusting, innocent-minded mamma!" cried Vixen, kneeling by
+her mother's chair, and putting her arms round her ever so tenderly.
+"May your path of life be smooth and strewn with flowers when I am
+gone. If Captain Winstanley does not always treat you kindly, he will
+be a greater scoundrel than I think him. But he has always been kind to
+you, has he not, mamma? You are not hiding any sorrow of yours from
+me?' asked Vixen, fixing her great brown eyes on her mother's face with
+earnest inquiry. She had assumed the maternal part. She seemed an
+anxious mother questioning her daughter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Kind to me," echoed Mrs. Winstanley. "He has been all goodness. We
+have never had a difference of opinion since we were married."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, mamma, because you always defer to his opinion."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is not that my duty, when I know how clever and far-seeing he is?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Frankly, dear mother, are you as happy with this new husband of
+yours&mdash;so wise and far-seeing, and determined to have his own way in
+everything&mdash;as you were with my dear, indulgent, easy-tempered father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pamela Winstanley burst into a passion of tears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How can you be so cruel?" she exclaimed. "Who can give back the past,
+or the freshness and brightness of one's youth? Of course I was happier
+with your dear father than I can ever be again. It is not in nature
+that it should be otherwise. How could you be so heartless as to ask me
+such a question?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She dried her tears slowly, and was not easily comforted. It seemed as
+if that speech of Violet's had touched a spring that opened a fountain
+of grief.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This means that mamma is not happy with her second husband, in spite
+of her praises of him," thought Vixen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She remained kneeling by her mother's side comforting her as best she
+could, until Mrs. Winstanley had recovered from the wound her
+daughter's heedless words had inflicted, and then Violet began to say
+good-bye.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will write to me sometimes, won't you, mamma, and tell me how the
+dear old place is going on, and about the old people who die&mdash;dear
+familiar white heads that I shall never see again&mdash;and the young people
+who get married, and the babies that are born? You will write often,
+won't you, mamma?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, dear, as often as my strength will allow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You might even get Pauline to write to me sometimes, to tell me how
+you are and what you are doing; that would be better than nothing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pauline shall write when I am not equal to holding a pen," sighed Mrs.
+Winstanley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And, dear mamma, if you can prevent it, don't let any more of the old
+servants be sent away. If they drop off one by one home will seem like
+a strange place at last. Remember how they loved my dear father, how
+attached and faithful they have been to us. They are like our own flesh
+and blood."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should never willingly part with servants who know my ways, Violet.
+But as to Bates's dismissal&mdash;there are some things I had rather not
+discuss with you&mdash;I am sure that Conrad acted for the best, and from
+the highest motives."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you know anything about this place to which I am going, mamma?"
+asked Vixen, letting her mother's last speech pass without comment; "or
+the lady who is to be my duenna?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your future has been fully discussed between Conrad and me, Violet. He
+tells me that the old Jersey manor house&mdash;Les Tourelles it is
+called&mdash;is a delightful place, one of the oldest seats in Jersey, and
+Miss Skipwith, to whom it belongs, is a well-informed conscientious old
+lady, very religious, I believe, so you will have to guard against your
+sad habit of speaking lightly about sacred things, my dear Violet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you intend me to live there for ever, mamma?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"For ever! What a foolish question. In six years you will be of age,
+and your own mistress."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Six years&mdash;six years in a Jersey manor house&mdash;with a pious old lady.
+Don't you think that would seem very much like for ever, mamma?" asked
+Vixen gravely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear Violet, neither Conrad nor I want to banish you from your
+natural home. We only want you to learn wisdom. When Mr. Vawdrey is
+married, and when you have learnt to think more kindly of my dear
+husband&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That last change will never happen to me, mamma. I should have to die
+and be born again first, and, even then, I think my dislike of Captain
+Winstanley is so strong that purgatorial fires would hardly burn it
+out. No, mamma, we had better say good-bye without any forecast of the
+future. Let us forget all that is sad in our parting, and think we are
+only going to part for a little while."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Many a time in after days did Violet Tempest remember those last
+serious words of hers. The rest of her conversation with her mother was
+about trifles, the trunks and bonnet-boxes she was to carry with
+her&mdash;the dresses she was to wear in her exile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course in a retired old house in Jersey, with an elderly maiden
+lady, you will not see much society," said Mrs. Winstanley; "but Miss
+Skipwith must know people&mdash;no doubt the best people in the island&mdash;and
+I should not like you to be shabby. Are you really positive that you
+have dresses enough to carry you over next winter?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This last question was asked with deepest solemnity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"More than enough, mamma."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And do you think your last winter's jacket will do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Excellently."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm very glad of that," said her mother, with a sigh of relief, "for I
+have an awful bill of Theodore's hanging over my head. I have been
+paying her sums on account ever since your poor papa's death; and you
+know that is never quite satisfactory. All that one has paid hardly
+seems to make any difference in the amount due at the end."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't worry yourself about your bill, mamma. Let it stand over till I
+come of age, and then I can help you to pay it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are very generous, dear; but Theodore would not wait so long, even
+for me. Be sure you take plenty of wraps for the steamer. Summer nights
+are often chilly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Vixen thought of last night, and the long straight ride through the
+pine wood, the soft scented air, the young moon shining down at her,
+and Rorie by her side. Ah, when should she ever know such a summer
+night as that again?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sit down in this low chair by me, and have a cup of tea, dear," said
+Mrs. Winstanley, growing more affectionate as the hour of parting drew
+nearer. "Let us have kettledrum together for the last time, till you
+come back to us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"For the last time, mamma!" echoed Violet sadly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She could not imagine any possible phase of circumstances that would
+favour her return. Could she come back to see Roderick Vawdrey happy
+with his wife? Assuredly not. Could she school herself to endure life
+under the roof that sheltered Conrad Winstanley? A thousand times no.
+Coming home was something to be dreamt about when she lay asleep in a
+distant land; but it was a dream that never could be realised. She must
+make herself a new life, somehow, among new people. The old life died
+to-day.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She sat and sipped her tea, and listened while her mother talked
+cheerfully of the future, and even pretended to agree; but her heart
+was heavy as lead.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+An hour was dawdled away thus, and then, when Mrs. Winstanley began to
+think about dressing for dinner, Vixen went off to finish her packing.
+She excused herself from going down to dinner on the plea or having so
+much to do.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You could send me up something, please, mamma," she said. "I am sure
+you and Captain Winstanley will dine more pleasantly without me. I
+shall see you for a minute in the hall, before I start."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You must do as you please, dear," replied her mother. "I hardly feel
+equal to going down to dinner myself; but it would not be fair to let
+Conrad eat a second meal in solitude, especially when we are to be
+parted for two or three days and he is going across the sea. I shall
+not have a minute's rest to-night, thinking of you both."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sleep happily, dear mother, and leave us to Providence. The voyage
+cannot be perilous in such weather as this," said Vixen, with assumed
+cheerfulness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Two hours later the carriage was at the door, and Violet Tempest was
+ready to start. Her trunks were on the roof of the brougham, her
+dressing-bag, and travelling-desk, and wraps were stowed away inside;
+Argus was by her side, his collar provided with a leather strap, by
+which she could hold him when necessary. Captain Winstanley was smoking
+a cigar on the porch.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Winstanley came weeping out of the drawing-room, and hugged her
+daughter silently. Violet returned the embrace, but said not a word
+till just at the last.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear mother," she whispered earnestly, "never be unhappy about me. Let
+me bear the blame of all that has gone amiss between us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You had better be quick, Miss Tempest, if you want to be in time for
+the boat," said the Captain from the porch.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am quite ready," answered Vixen calmly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Phoebe was at the carriage-door, tearful, and in everybody's way, but
+pretending to help. Argus was sent up to the box, where he sat beside
+the coachman with much gravity of demeanour, having first assured
+himself that his mistress was inside the carriage. Mrs. Winstanley
+stood in the porch, kissing her hand; and so the strong big horses bore
+the carriage away, through the dark shrubberies, between banks of
+shadowy foliage, out into the forest-road, which was full of ghosts at
+this late hour, and would have struck terror to the hearts of any
+horses unaccustomed to its sylvan mysteries.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They drove through Lyndhurst, where the twinkling little lights in the
+shop-windows were being extinguished by envious shutters, and where the
+shop-keepers paused in their work of extinction to stare amazedly at
+the passing carriage; not that a carriage was a strange apparition in
+Lyndhurst, but because the inhabitants had so little to do except stare.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Anon they came to Bolton's Bench, beneath a cluster of pine-trees on a
+hilly bit of common, and then the long straight road to Southampton lay
+before them in the faint moonshine, with boggy levels, black
+furze-bushes, and a background of wood on either side. Violet sat
+looking steadily out of the window, watching every bit of the road. How
+could she tell when she would see it again&mdash;or if ever, save in sad
+regretful dreams?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They mounted the hill, from whose crest Vixen took one last backwards
+look at the wide wild land that lay behind them&mdash;a look of ineffable
+love and longing. And then she threw herself back in the carriage, and
+gave herself up to gloomy thought. There was nothing more that she
+cared to see. They had entered the tame dull world of civilisation.
+They drove through the village of Eling, where lights burned dimly here
+and there in upper windows; they crossed the slow meandering river at
+Redbridge. Already the low line of lights in Southampton city began to
+shine faintly in the distance. Violet shut her eyes and let the
+landscape go by. Suburban villas, suburban gardens on a straight road
+beside a broad river with very little water in it. There was nothing
+here to regret.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was past eleven when they drove under the old bar, and through the
+high street of Southampton. The town seemed strange to Vixen at this
+unusual hour. The church clocks were striking the quarter. Down by the
+docks everything had a gray and misty look, sky and water
+indistinguishable. There lay the Jersey boat, snorting and puffing,
+amidst the dim grayness. Captain Winstanley conducted his charge to the
+ladies' cabin, with no more words than were positively necessary. They
+had not spoken once during the drive from the Abbey House to
+Southampton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think you had better stay down here till the vessel has started, at
+any rate," said the Captain, "there will be so much bustle and
+confusion on deck. I'll take care of your dog."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thanks," answered Vixen meekly. "Yes, I'll stay here&mdash;you need not
+trouble yourself about me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Shall I send you something? A cup of tea, the wing of a chicken, a
+little wine and water?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, thanks, I don't care about anything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Captain withdrew after this to look after the luggage, and to
+secure his own berth. The stewardess received Violet as if she had
+known her all her life, showed her the couch allotted to her, and to
+secure which the Captain had telegraphed that morning from Lyndhurst.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was lucky your good gentleman took the precaution to telegraph,
+mum," said the cordial stewardess; "the boats are always crowded at
+this time of the year, and the <I>Fanny</I> is such a favourite."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The cabin was wide and lofty and airy, quite an exceptional thing in
+ladies' cabins; but presently there came a troop of stout matrons with
+their olive-branches, all cross and sleepy, and dazed at finding
+themselves in a strange place at an unearthly hour. There was the usual
+sprinkling of babies, and most of the babies cried. One baby was
+afflicted with unmistakable whooping cough, and was a source of terror
+to the mothers of all the other babies. There was a general opening of
+hand-bags and distribution of buns, biscuits, and sweeties for the
+comfort and solace of this small fry. Milk was imbibed noisily out of
+mysterious bottles, some of them provided with gutta-percha tubes,
+which made the process of refreshment look like laying on gas. Vixen
+turned her back upon the turmoil, and listened to the sad sea waves
+plashing lazily against the side of the boat.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She wondered what Rorie was doing at this midnight hour? Did he know
+yet that she was gone&mdash;vanished out of his life for ever? No; he could
+hardly have heard of her departure yet awhile, swiftly as all tidings
+travelled in that rustic world of the Forest. Had he made up his mind
+to keep faith with Lady Mabel? Had he forgiven Vixen for refusing to
+abet him in treachery against his affianced?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor Rorie," sighed the girl; "I think we might have been happy
+together."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And then she remembered the days of old, when Mr. Vawdrey was free, and
+when it had never dawned upon his slow intelligence that his old
+playfellow, Violet Tempest, was the one woman in all this wide world
+who had the power to make his life happy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think he thought lightly of me because of all our foolishness when
+he was a boy," mused Vixen. "I seemed to him less than other
+women&mdash;because of those old sweet memories&mdash;instead of more."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was a dreary voyage for Violet Tempest&mdash;a kind of maritime
+purgatory. The monotonous thud of the engine, the tramping of feet
+overhead, the creaking and groaning of the vessel, the squalling
+babies, the fussy mothers, the dreadful people who could not travel
+from Southampton to Jersey on a calm summer night without exhibiting
+all the horrors of seasickness. Vixen thought of the sufferings of poor
+black human creatures in the middle passage, of the ghastly terrors of
+a mutiny, of a ship on fire, of the Ancient Mariner on his slimy sea,
+when
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+  The very deep did rot; O Christ,<BR>
+  That ever this should be;<BR>
+  Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs<BR>
+  Upon the slimy sea!<BR>
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+She wondered in her weary soul whether these horrors, which literature
+had made familiar to her, were much worse than the smart white and gold
+cabin of the good ship <I>Fanny</I>, filled to overflowing with the contents
+of half-a-dozen nurseries.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Towards daybreak there came a lull. The crossest of the babies had
+exhausted its capacity for making its fellow-creatures miserable. The
+sea-sick mothers and nurses had left off groaning, and starting
+convulsively from their pillows, with wild shrieks for the stewardess,
+and had sunk into troubled slumbers. Vixen turned her back upon the
+dreadful scene&mdash;dimly lighted by flickering oil-lamps, like those that
+burn before saintly shrines in an old French cathedral&mdash;and shut her
+eyes and tried to lose herself in the tangled wilderness of sleep. But
+to-night that blessed refuge of the unhappy was closed against her. The
+calm angel of sleep would have nothing to do with a soul so troubled.
+She could only lie staring at the port-hole, which stared back at her
+like a giant's dark angry eye, and waiting for morning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Morning came at last, with the skirmishing toilets of the children,
+fearful struggles for brushes and combs, towel fights, perpetual
+clamour for missing pieces of soap, a great deal of talk about strings
+and buttons, and a chorus of crying babies. Then stole through the
+stuffy atmosphere savoury odours of breakfast, the fumes of coffee,
+fried bacon, grilled fish. Sloppy looking cups of tea were administered
+to the sufferers of last night. The yellow sunshine filled the cabin.
+Vixen made a hasty toilet, and hurried up to the deck. Here all was
+glorious. A vast world of sunlit water. No sign yet of rock-bound
+island above the white-crested waves. The steamer might have been in
+the midst of the Atlantic. Captain Winstanley was on the bridge,
+smoking his morning cigar. He gave Violet a cool nod, which she
+returned as coolly. She found a quiet corner where she could sit and
+watch the waves slowly rising and falling, the white foam-crests slowly
+gathering, the light spray dashing against the side of the boat, the
+cataract of white roaring water leaping from the swift paddle-wheel and
+melting into a long track of foam. By-and-by they came to Guernsey,
+which looked grim and military, and not particularly inviting, even in
+the morning sunlight. That picturesque island hides her beauties from
+those who only behold her from the sea. Here there was an exodus of
+passengers, and of luggage, and an invasion of natives with baskets of
+fruit. Vixen bought some grapes and peaches of a female native in a
+cap, whose patois was the funniest perversion of French and English
+imaginable. And then a bell rang clamorously, and there was a general
+stampede, and the gangway was pulled up and the vessel was steaming
+gaily towards Jersey; while Vixen sat eating grapes and looking
+dreamily skyward, and wondering whether her mother was sleeping
+peacefully under the dear old Abbey House roof, undisturbed by any pang
+of remorse for having parted with an only child so lightly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+An hour or so and Jersey was in sight, all rocky peaks and
+promontories. Anon the steamer swept round a sudden curve, and lo,
+Vixen beheld a bristling range of fortifications, a rather untidy
+harbour, and the usual accompaniments of a landing-place, the midsummer
+sun shining vividly upon the all pervading whiteness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is this the bay that some people have compared to Naples?" Violet
+asked her conductor, with a contemptuous curl of her mobile lip, as she
+and Captain Winstanley took their seats in a roomy old fly, upon which
+the luggage was being piled in the usual mountainous and
+insecure-looking style.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have not seen it yet from the Neapolitan point of view," said the
+Captain. "This quay is not the prettiest bit of Jersey."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am glad of that, very glad," answered Vixen acidly; "for if it were,
+the Jersey notion of the beautiful would be my idea of ugliness. Oh
+what an utterly too horrid street!" she cried, as the fly drove through
+the squalid approach to the town, past dirty gutter-bred children, and
+women with babies, who looked to the last degree Irish, and the dead
+high wall of the fortifications. "Does your aunt live hereabouts, <I>par
+exemple</I>, Captain Winstanley?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My aunt lives six good miles from here, Miss Tempest, in one of the
+loveliest spots in the island, amidst scenery that is almost as fine as
+the Pyrenees."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have heard people say that of anything respectable in the shape of a
+hill," answered Vixen, with a dubious air.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was in a humour to take objection to everything, and had a flippant
+air curiously at variance with the dull aching of her heart. She was
+determined to take the situation lightly. Not for worlds would she have
+let Captain Winstanley see her wounds, or guess how deep they were. She
+set her face steadily towards the hills in which her place of exile was
+hidden, and bore herself bravely. Conrad Winstanley gave her many a
+furtive glance as he sat opposite her in the fly, while they drove
+slowly up the steep green country lanes, leaving the white town in the
+valley below them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The place is not so bad, after all," said Vixen, looking back at the
+conglomeration of white walls and slate roofs, of docks and shipping,
+and barracks, on the edge of a world of blue water, "not nearly so
+odious as it looked when we landed. But it is a little disappointing at
+best, like all places that people praise ridiculously. I had pictured
+Jersey as a tropical island, with cactuses and Cape jasmine growing in
+the hedges, orchards of peaches and apricots, and melons running wild."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To my mind the island is a pocket edition of Devonshire with a dash of
+Brittany," answered the Captain. "There's a fig-tree for you!" he
+cried, pointing to a great spreading mass of five-fingered leaves
+lolloping over a pink plastered garden-wall&mdash;an old untidy tree that
+had swallowed up the whole extent of a cottager's garden. "You don't
+see anything like that in the Forest."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," answered Vixen, tightening her lips; "we have only oaks and
+beeches that have been growing since the Heptarchy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And now they entered a long lane, where the interlaced tree-tops made
+an arcade of foliage&mdash;a lane whose beauty even Vixen could not gainsay.
+Ah, there were the Hampshire ferns on the steep green banks! She gave a
+little choking sob at sight of them, as if they had been living things.
+Hart's-tongue, and lady-fern, and the whole family of osmundas. Yes;
+they were all there. It was like home&mdash;with a difference.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Here and there they passed a modern villa, in its park-like grounds,
+and the Captain, who evidently wished to be pleasant, tried to expound
+to Violet the conditions of Jersey leases, and the difficulties which
+attend the purchase of land or tenements in that feudal settlement. But
+Vixen did not even endeavour to understand him. She listened with an
+air of polite vacancy which was not encouraging.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They passed various humbler homesteads, painted a lively pink, or a
+refreshing lavender, with gardens where the fuchsias were trees covered
+with crimson bloom, and where gigantic hydrangeas bloomed in palest
+pink and brightest azure in wildest abundance. Here Vixen beheld for
+the first time those preposterous cabbages from whose hyper-natural
+growth the islanders seem to derive a loftier pride than from any other
+productions of the island, not excepting its grapes and its lobsters.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't suppose you ever saw cabbages growing six feet high before,"
+said the Captain.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," answered Vixen; "they are too preposterous to be met with in a
+civilised country. Poor Charles the Second! I don't wonder that he was
+wild and riotous when he came to be king."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because he had spent several months of exile among his loyal subjects
+in Jersey. A man who had been buried alive in such a fragmentary bit of
+the world must have required some compensation in after life."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They had mounted a long hill which seemed the pinnacle of the island,
+and from whose fertile summit the view was full of beauty&mdash;a green
+undulating garden-world, ringed with yellow sands and bright blue sea;
+and now they began to descend gently by a winding lane where again the
+topmost elm-branches were interwoven, and where the glowing June day
+was softened to a tender twilight. A curve in the lane brought them
+suddenly to an old gateway, with a crumbling stone bench in a nook
+beside it&mdash;a bench where the wayfarer used to sit and wait for alms,
+when the site of Les Tourelles was occupied by a monastery.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The old manor house rose up behind the dilapidated wall&mdash;a goodly old
+house as to size and form&mdash;overlooking a noble sweep of hillside and
+valley; a house with a gallery on the roof for purposes of observation,
+but with as dreary and abandoned a look about its blank curtainless
+windows as if mansion and estate had been in Chancery for the last
+half-century.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A fine old place, is it not?" asked the Captain, while a cracked bell
+was jingling in remote distance, amidst the drowsy summer stillness,
+without eliciting so much as the bark of a house-dog.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It looks very big," Violet answered dubiously, "and very empty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My aunt has no relatives residing with her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If she had started in life with a large family of brothers and
+sisters, I should think they would all be dead by this time," said the
+girl, with a stifled yawn that was half a sigh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do you mean?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They would have died of the stillness and solitude and all-pervading
+desolation of Les Tourelles."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Strange houses are apt to look desolate."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. Particularly when the windows have neither blinds nor curtains,
+and the walls have not been painted for a century."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After this conversation flagged. The jingling bell was once more set
+going in the unknown distance; Vixen sat looking sleepily at the arched
+roof of foliage chequered with blue sky. Argus lolled against the
+carriage-door with his tongue out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They waited five minutes or so, languidly expectant. Vixen began to
+wonder whether the gates would ever open&mdash;whether there were really any
+living human creatures in that blank dead-looking house&mdash;whether they
+would not have to give up all idea of entering, and drive back to the
+harbour, and return to Hampshire by the way they had come.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+While she sat idly wondering thus, with the sleepy buzz of summer
+insects and melodious twittering of birds soothing her senses like a
+lullaby, the old gate groaned upon its rusty hinges, and a middle-aged
+woman in a black gown and a white cap appeared&mdash;a female who recognised
+Captain Winstanley with a curtsey, and came out to receive the smaller
+packages from the flyman.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Antony will take the portmanteaux," she said; "the boat must have come
+in earlier than usual. We did not expect you so soon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is one of Miss Skipwith's servants," thought Vixen; "rather a
+vinegary personage. I hope the other maids are nicer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The person spoken of as Antony now appeared, and began to hale about
+Violet's portmanteaux. He was a middle-aged man, with a bald head and a
+melancholy aspect. His raiment was shabby; his costume something
+between that of a lawyer's clerk and an agricultural labourer. Argus
+saluted this individual with a suppressed growl.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sh!" cried the female vindictively, flapping her apron at the dog,
+"whose dog is this, sir? He doesn't belong to you, surely?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He belongs to Miss Tempest. You must find a corner for him somewhere
+in the outbuildings, Hannah," said the Captain. "The dog is harmless
+enough, and friendly enough when he is used to people."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That won't be much good if he bites us before he gets used to us, and
+we die of hydrophobia in the meantime," retorted Hannah; "I believe he
+has taken a dislike to Antony already."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Argus won't bite anyone," said Vixen, laying her hand upon the dog's
+collar, "I'll answer for his good conduct. Please try and find him a
+nice snug nest somewhere&mdash;if I mustn't have him in the house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In the house!" cried Hannah. "Miss Skipwith would faint at the mention
+of such a thing. I don't know how she'll ever put up with a huge beast
+like that anywhere about the place. He must be kept as much out of her
+sight as possible."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm sorry Argus isn't welcome," said Vixen proudly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was thinking that her own welcome at Les Tourelles could hardly be
+more cordial than that accorded to Argus. She had left home because
+nobody wanted her there. How could she expect that anyone wanted her
+here, where she was a stranger, preceded, perhaps, by the reputation of
+her vices? The woman in the rusty mourning-gown, the man in the shabby
+raiment and clod-hopper boots, gave her no smile of greeting. Over this
+new home of hers there hung an unspeakable melancholy. Her heart sank
+as she crossed the threshold.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Oh, what a neglected, poverty-stricken air the garden had, after the
+gardens Violet Tempest had been accustomed to look upon! Ragged trees,
+rank grass, empty flower-beds, weeds in abundance. A narrow paved
+colonnade ran along one side of the house. They went by this paved way
+to a dingy little door&mdash;not the hall-door, that was never opened&mdash;and
+entered the house by a lobby, which opened into a small parlour, dark
+and shabby, with one window looking into a court-yard. There were a
+good many books upon the green baize table-cover; pious books mostly,
+Vixen saw, with a strange revulsion of feeling; as if that were the
+culmination of her misery. There was an old-fashioned work-table, with
+a faded red silk well, beside the open window. A spectacle-case on the
+work-table, and an armchair before it, indicated that the room had been
+lately occupied. It was altogether one of the shabbiest rooms Vixen had
+ever seen&mdash;the furniture belonging to the most odious period of
+cabinet-making, the carpet unutterably dingy, the walls mildewed and
+mouldy, the sole decorations some pale engravings of naval battles,
+which might be the victories or defeats of any maritime hero, from
+Drake to Nelson.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come and see the house," said the Captain, reading the disgust in his
+stepdaughter's pale face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He opened a door leading into the hall, a large and lofty apartment,
+with a fine old staircase ascending to a square gallery. The heavy oak
+balusters had been painted white, so had the panelling in the hall.
+Time had converted both to a dusky gray. Some rusty odds and ends of
+armour, and a few dingy family portraits decorated the walls; but of
+furniture there was not a vestige.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Opening out of the hall there was a large long room with four windows
+looking into a small wilderness that had once been a garden, and
+commanding a fine view of land and sea. This the Captain called the
+drawing-room. It was sparsely furnished with a spindle-legged table,
+half-a-dozen armchairs covered with faded tapestry, an antique
+walnut-wood cabinet, another of ebony, a small oasis of carpet in the
+middle of the bare oak floor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This and the parlour you have seen are all the sitting-rooms my aunt
+occupies," said Captain Winstanley; "the rest of the rooms on this
+floor are empty, or only used for storehouses. It is a fine old house.
+I believe the finest in the island."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is there a history hanging to it?" asked Vixen, looking drearily round
+the spacious desolate chamber. "Has it been used as a prison, or a
+madhouse, or what? I never saw a house that filled me with such
+nameless horrors."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are fanciful," said the Captain. "The house has no story except
+the common history of fallen fortunes. It has been in the Skipwith
+family ever since it was built. They were Leicestershire people, and
+came to Jersey after the civil war&mdash;came here to be near their prince
+in his exile&mdash;settled here and built Les Tourelles. I believe they
+expected Charles would do something handsome for them when he came into
+his own, but he didn't do anything. Sir John Skipwith stayed in the
+island and became a large landowner, and died at an advanced age&mdash;there
+is nothing to kill people here, you see&mdash;and the Skipwiths have been
+Jersey people ever since. They were once the richest family in the
+island. They are now one of the poorest. When I say they, I mean my
+aunt. She is the last of her race. The Skipwiths have crystallised into
+one maiden lady, my mother's only sister."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then your mother was a Skipwith?" asked Violet.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And she was born and brought up here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. She never left Jersey till my father married her. He was here
+with his regiment when they met at the governor's ball. Oh, here is my
+aunt," said the Captain, as a rustling of silk sounded in the empty
+hall.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Vixen drew herself up stiffly, as if preparing to meet a foe. She had
+made up her mind to detest Miss Skipwith.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The lady of the manor entered. She shook hands with her nephew, and
+presented him with a pale and shrivelled cheek, which he respectfully
+saluted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was an elderly and faded person, very tall and painfully thin, but
+aristocratic to the highest degree. There was the indication of race in
+her aquiline nose, high narrow brow and neatly cut chin, her tapering
+hand and small slender foot. She was dressed in black silk, rustier and
+older than any silk Vixen had ever seen before: not even excepting Mrs.
+Scobel's black silk dresses, when they had been degraded from their
+original rank to the scrubbery of early services and daily wear. Her
+thin gray hair was shaded by a black lace cap, decorated with bugles
+and black weedy grasses. She wore black mittens, and jet jewellery, and
+was altogether as deeply sable as if she had been in mourning for the
+whole of the Skipwith race.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She received Miss Tempest with a formal politeness which was not
+encouraging.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope you will be able to make yourself happy here," she said; "and
+that you have resources within yourself that will suffice for the
+employment of your time and thoughts. I receive no company, and I never
+go out. The class of people who now occupy the island are a class with
+which I should not care to associate, and which, I daresay, would not
+appreciate me. I have my own resources, and my life is fully employed.
+My only complaint is that the days are not long enough. A quiet
+existence like mine offers vast opportunities for culture and
+self-improvement. I hope you will take advantage of them, Miss Tempest."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Poor Violet faltered something vaguely civil, looking sorely bewildered
+all the time. Miss Skipwith's speech sounded so like the address of a
+schoolmistress that Vixen began to think she had been trapped unawares
+in a school, as people are sometimes trapped in a madhouse.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think Miss Tempest is given much to study," said the Captain
+graciously, as if he and Violet were on the friendliest terms; "but she
+is very fond of the country, and I am sure the scenery of Jersey will
+delight her. By-the-way, we ventured to bring her big dog. He will be a
+companion and protector for her in her walks. I have asked Doddery to
+find him a kennel somewhere among your capacious outbuildings."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He must not come into the house," said Miss Skipwith grimly; "I
+couldn't have a dog inside my doors. I have a Persian that has been my
+attached companion for the last ten years. What would that dear
+creature's feelings be if he saw himself exposed to the attacks of a
+savage dog?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dog is not savage, to Persians or anyone else," cried Vixen,
+wondering what inauspicious star had led the footsteps of an oriental
+wanderer to so dreary a refuge as Les Tourelles.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You would like to see your bedroom, perhaps?" suggested Miss Skipwith,
+and on Violet's assenting, she was handed over to Hannah Doddery, the
+woman who had opened the gate.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Hannah led the way up the broad old staircase, all bare and carpetless,
+and opened one of the doors in the gallery. The room into which she
+ushered Violet was large and airy, with windows commanding the fair
+garden-like island, and the wide blue sea. But there was the same bare,
+poverty-stricken look in this room as in every other part of the manor
+house. The bed was a tall melancholy four-poster, with scantiest
+draperies of faded drab damask. Save for one little islet of threadbare
+Brussels beside the bed, the room was carpetless. There was an ancient
+wainscot wardrobe with brass handles. There was a modern deal
+dressing-table skimpily draped with muslin, and surmounted by the
+smallest of looking-glasses. There were a couple of chairs and a
+three-cornered washhand-stand. There was neither sofa nor
+writing-table. There was not an ornament on the high wooden
+mantelshelf, or a picture on the panelled walls. Vixen shivered as she
+surveyed the big barren room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think you will find everything comfortable," said Mrs. Doddery, with
+a formal air, which seemed to say, "and whether you do or do not
+matters nothing to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thank you, yes, I daresay it is all right," Vixen answered absently,
+standing at one of the windows, gazing out over the green hills and
+valleys to the fair summer sea, and wondering whether she would be able
+to take comfort from the fertile beauty of the island.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The bed has been well aired," continued Mrs. Doddery, "and I can
+answer for the cleanliness of everything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thanks! Will you kindly send one of the maids to help me unpack my
+portmanteau?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can assist you," Mrs. Doddery answered. "We have no maid-servant. My
+husband and I are able to do all that Miss Skipwith requires. She is a
+lady who gives so little trouble."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you mean to say there are no other servants in this great house&mdash;no
+housemaids, no cooks?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have cooked for Miss Skipwith for the last thirty years. The house
+is large, but there are very few rooms in occupation."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I ought to have brought my maid," cried Vixen. "It will be quite
+dreadful. I don't want much waiting upon; but still, I'm afraid I shall
+give some trouble until I learn to do everything for myself. Just as if
+I were cast on a desert island," she said to herself in conclusion; and
+then she thought of Helen Rolleston, the petted beauty in Charles
+Reade's "Foul Play," cast with her faithful lover on an unknown island
+of the fair southern sea. But in this island of Jersey there was no
+faithful lover to give romance and interest to the situation. There was
+nothing but dull dreary reality.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I daresay I shall be able to do all you require, without feeling it
+any extra trouble, unless you are very helpless," said Mrs. Doddery,
+who was on her knees unstrapping one of the portmanteaux.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not helpless," replied Vixen, "though I daresay I have been
+waited on much more than was good for me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And then she knelt down before the other portmanteau, and undid the
+buckles of the thick leather straps, in which operation she broke more
+than one of her nails, and wounded her rosy finger-tips.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh dear, what a useless creature I am," she thought; "and why do
+people strap portmanteaux so tightly? Never mind, after a month's
+residence at Les Tourelles I shall be a Spartan."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would you like me to unpack your trunks for you?" inquired Mrs.
+Doddery, with an accent which sounded slightly ironical.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh no, thanks, I can get on very well now," answered Vixen quickly;
+whereupon the housekeeper opened the drawers and cupboards in the big
+wainscot wardrobe, and left Miss Tempest to her own devices.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The shelves and drawers were neatly lined with white paper, and strewed
+with dried lavender. This was luxury which Vixen had not expected. She
+laid her pretty dresses on the shelves, smiling scornfully as she
+looked at them. Of what use could pretty dresses be in a desert island?
+And here were her riding-habit and her collection of whips&mdash;useless
+lumber where there was no hope of a horse. She was obliged to put her
+books in the wardrobe, as there was no other place for them. Her desk
+and workbox she was fain to place on the floor, for the small
+dressing-table would accommodate no more than her dressing-case,
+devotional books, brushes and combs, pomatum-pots, and pinboxes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh dear," she sighed. "I have a great deal too much property for a
+desert island. I wonder whether in some odd corner of Les Tourelles I
+could find such a thing as a spare table?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When she had finished her unpacking she went down to the hall. Not
+seeing anyone about, and desiring rather to avoid Captain Winstanley
+and his aunt than to rejoin them, she wandered out of the hall into one
+of the many passages of the old manor house, and began a voyage of
+discovery on her own account.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If they ask me what I have been doing I can say I lost myself," she
+thought.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She found the most curious rooms&mdash;or rather rooms that had once been
+stately and handsome, now applied to the most curious purposes&mdash;a
+dining-hall with carved stone chimney-piece and painted ceiling, used
+as a storehouse for apples; another fine apartment in which a heap of
+potatoes reposed snugly in a corner, packed in straw; there was a
+spacious kitchen with a fire-place as large as a moderate-sized room&mdash;a
+kitchen that had been abandoned altogether to spiders, beetles, rats,
+and mice. A whole army of four-footed vermin scampered off as Vixen
+crossed the threshold. She could see them scuttling and scurrying along
+by the wall, with a whisking of slender tails as they vanished into
+their holes. The beetles were disporting themselves on the desolate
+hearth, the spiders had woven draperies for the dim dirty windows. The
+rustling leaves of a fig-tree, that had grown close to this side of the
+house, flapped against the window-panes with a noise of exceeding
+ghostliness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+From the kitchen Vixen wandered to the out-houses, and found Argus
+howling dismally in a grass-grown court-yard, evidently believing
+himself abandoned by the world. His rapture at beholding his mistress
+was boundless.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You darling, I would give the world to let you loose," cried Vixen,
+after she had been nearly knocked down by the dog's affectionate
+greeting; "but I mustn't just yet. I'll come by-and-by and take you for
+a walk. Yes, dear old boy, we'll have a long ramble together, just as
+we used to do at home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Home, now she had left it, seemed so sweet a word that her lips
+trembled a little as she pronounced it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Everything without the house was as dreary as it was within. Poverty
+had set its mark on all things, like a blight. Decay was visible
+everywhere&mdash;in the wood-work, in the stone-work, in hinges and handles,
+thresholds and lintels, ceilings and plastered walls. It would have
+cost a thousand pounds to put the manor house in decent habitable
+order. To have restored it to its original dignity and comeliness would
+have cost at least five thousand. Miss Skipwith could afford to spend
+nothing upon the house she lived in; indeed she could barely afford the
+necessaries of life. So for the last thirty years Les Tourelles had
+been gradually decaying, until the good old house had arrived at a
+stage in which decay could hardly go farther without lapsing into
+destruction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A door opened out of the court-yard into the weedy garden. This was not
+without a kind of beauty that had survived long neglect. The spreading
+fig-trees, the bushes of bright red fuchsia, and the unpruned roses
+made a fertile wilderness of flowers and foliage. There was a terrace
+in front of the drawing-room windows, and from this a flight of
+crumbling moss-grown stone steps led down to the garden, which was on
+the slope of the hill, and lay considerably below the level of the
+house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+While Vixen was perambulating the garden, a bell rang in a cupola on
+the roof; and as this sounded like the summons to a meal, she felt that
+politeness, if not appetite, demanded her return to the house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Three o'clock," she said, looking at her watch. "What a late hour for
+luncheon!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She made her way back to the small side-door at which she had entered
+with Captain Winstanley, and went into the parlour, where she found the
+Captain and his aunt. The table was laid, but they had not seated
+themselves.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope I have not kept you waiting," Vixen said apologetically.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My aunt has been waiting five minutes or so; but I'm sure she will
+forgive you, as you don't yet know the ways of the house," replied the
+Captain amiably.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We have early habits at Les Tourelles, Miss Tempest," said the lady of
+the manor: "we breakfast at half-past seven and dine at three; that
+arrangement gives me a long morning for study. At six we drink tea,
+and, if you care for supper, it can be served for you on a tray at
+half-past nine. The house is shut, and all lamps put out, at ten."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As regularly as on board ship," said the Captain. "I know the customs
+of the manor of old."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have never favoured me with a long visit, Conrad," remarked Miss
+Skipwith reproachfully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My life has been too busy for making long visits anywhere, my dear
+aunt."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They took their places at the small square table, and Miss Skipwith
+said grace. Antony Doddery was in attendance, clad in rusty black, and
+looking as like a butler as a man who cleaned windows, scrubbed floors,
+and hewed wood could be fairly expected to look. He removed the cover
+of a modest dish of fish with a grand air, and performed all the
+services of the table with as much dignity as if he had never been
+anything less than a butler. He poured out a glass of ale for the
+Captain and a glass of water for his mistress. Miss Skipwith seemed
+relieved when Violet said she preferred water to ale, and did not
+particularly care about wine.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I used to drink wine at home very often, just because it was put in my
+glass, but I like water quite as well," said Vixen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After the fish there came a small joint of lamb, and a couple of dishes
+of vegetables; then a small custard pudding, and some cheese cut up in
+very minute pieces in a glass dish, some raw garden-stuff which Doddery
+called salad, and three of last year's pears in an old Derby
+dessert-dish. The dinner could hardly have been smaller, but it was
+eminently genteel.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The conversation was entirely between Captain Winstanley and his aunt.
+Vixen sat and listened wonderingly, save at odd times, when her
+thoughts strayed back to the old life which she had done with for ever.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You still continue your literary labours, I suppose, aunt," said the
+Captain.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They are the chief object of my existence. When I abandon them I shall
+have done with life," replied Miss Skipwith gravely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you have not yet published your book."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; I hope when I do that even you will hear of it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have no doubt it will make a sensation."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If it does not I have lived and laboured in vain. But my book may make
+a sensation, and yet fall far short of the result which I have toiled
+and hoped for."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And that is&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The establishment of a universal religion."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is a large idea!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would a small idea be worth the devotion of a life? For thirty years I
+have devoted myself to this one scheme. I have striven to focus all the
+creeds of mankind in one brilliant centre&mdash;eliminating all that is base
+and superstitious in each several religion, crystallising all that is
+good and true. The Buddhist, the Brahmin, the Mohamedan, the
+Sun-worshipper, the Romanist, the Calvinist, the Lutheran, the
+Wesleyan, the Swedenborgian&mdash;each and all will find the best and
+noblest characteristics of his faith resolved and concentred in my
+universal religion. Here all creeds will meet. Gentler and wiser than
+the theology of Buddha; more humanitarian than the laws of Brahma; more
+temperate than the Moslem's code of morality; with a wider grasp of
+power than the Romanist's authoritative Church; severely self-denying
+as Calvin's ascetic rule; simple and pious as Wesley's scheme of man's
+redemption; spiritual as Swedenborg's vast idea of heaven;&mdash;my faith
+will open its arms wide enough to embrace all. There need be no more
+dissent. The mighty circle of my free church will enclose all creeds
+and all divisions of man, and spread from the northern hemisphere to
+the southern seas. Heathenism shall perish before it. The limited view
+of Christianity which missionaries have hitherto offered to the heathen
+may fail; but my universal church will open its doors to all the
+world&mdash;and, mark my words, Conrad, all the world will enter in. I may
+not live to see the day. My span of life has not long to run&mdash;but that
+day will come."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No doubt," replied Captain Winstanley gravely. "There is a
+slovenliness, so to speak, about the present arrangement of things, and
+a great deal of useless expense; every small town with its half-a-dozen
+churches and chapels of different denominations&mdash;Episcopalians,
+Wesleyans, Baptists, Roman Catholics, Primitive Methodists. Now on your
+plan one large building would do for all, like the town hall, or the
+general post office. There would be a wonderful economy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I fear you contemplate the question from an entirely temporal point of
+view," said Miss Skipwith, flattered but yet reproachful. "It is its
+spiritual aspect that is grandest."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Naturally. But a man of the world is apt to consider the
+practicability of a scheme. And yours seems to me eminently practical.
+If you can only get the Mohamedans and the Brahmins to come in! The
+Roman Catholics might of course be easily won, though it would involve
+doing away with the Pope. There was a prophecy, by-the-way, that after
+the ninth Pius there would be only eleven more Popes. No doubt that
+prophecy pointed at your universal religion. But I fear you may have
+some difficulty about the Buddhists. I fancy they are rather a bigoted
+sect."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The greatest bigots have but to be convinced," said Miss Skipwith.
+"St. Paul was a bigot."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"True. Is your book nearly finished?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No. There are still some years of labour before me. I am now working
+at the Swedenborgian portion, striving to demonstrate how that great
+man's scheme of religion, though commonly supposed to be a new and
+original emanation of one mind, is in reality a reproduction of
+spiritual views involved in other and older religions. The Buddhists
+were Swedenborgians without knowing it, just as Swedenborg
+unconsciously was a Buddhist."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I begin to understand. The process which you are engaged in is a kind
+of spiritual chemistry, in which you resolve each particular faith into
+its primary elements: with a view to prove that those elements are
+actually the same in all creeds; and that the differences which
+heretofore have kept mankind apart are mere divergencies of detail."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That, crudely and imperfectly stated, is my aim," replied Miss
+Skipwith graciously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This kind of conversation continued all through dinner. Miss Skipwith
+talked of Buddha, and Confucius, and Mahomet, and Zuinglius, and
+Calvin, and Luther, as familiarly as if they had been her most intimate
+friends; and the Captain led her on and played her as he would have
+played a trout in one of the winding Hampshire streams. His gravity was
+imperturbable. Vixen sat and wondered whether she was to hear this kind
+of thing every day of her life, and whether she would be expected to
+ask Miss Skipwith leading questions, as the Captain was doing. It was
+all very well for him, who was to spend only one day at Les Tourelles;
+but Vixen made up her mind that she would boldly avow her indifference
+to all creeds and all theologians, from Confucius to Swedenborg. She
+might consent to live for a time amidst the dullness and desolation of
+Les Tourelles, but she would not be weighed down and crushed by Miss
+Skipwith's appalling hobby. The mere idea of the horror of having every
+day to discuss a subject that was in its very nature inexhaustible,
+filled her with terror.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I would sooner take my meals in that abandoned kitchen, in the company
+of the rats and beetles, than have to listen every day to this kind of
+thing," she thought.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When dinner was over the Captain went off to smoke his cigar in the
+garden, and this Vixen thought a good time for making her escape.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should like to take a walk with my dog, if you will excuse me, Miss
+Skipwith," she said politely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear, you must consider yourself at liberty to employ and amuse
+yourself as you please, of course always keeping strictly within the
+bounds of propriety," solemnly replied the lady of the manor. "I shall
+not interfere with your freedom. My own studies are of so grave a
+nature that they in a measure isolate me from my fellow-creatures, but
+when you require and ask for sympathy and advice, I shall be ready to
+give both. My library is at your service, and I hope ere long you will
+have found yourself some serious aim for your studies. Life without
+purpose is a life hardly worth living. If girls of your age could only
+find that out, and seek their vocation early, how much grander and
+nobler would be woman's place in the universe. But, alas! my dear, the
+common aim of girlhood seems to be to look pretty and to get married."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have made up my mind never to marry," said Violet, with a smile that
+was half sad half cynical; "so there at least you may approve of me,
+Miss Skipwith."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My nephew tells me that you refused an excellent offer from an Irish
+peer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I would not have done the Irish peer so great a wrong as to have
+married him without loving him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I admire your honourable feeling," said Miss Skipwith, with solemn
+approval; "I, too, might have married, but the man towards whom my
+heart most inclined was a man of no family. I could not marry a man
+without family. I am weak enough to be prouder of my pedigree than
+other women are of beauty and fortune. I am the last of the Skipwiths,
+and I have done nothing to degrade my race. The family name and the
+family pride will die with me. There was a time when a Skipwith owned a
+third of the island. Our estate has dwindled to the garden and meadows
+that surround this old house; our family has shrunk into one old woman;
+but if I can make the name of Skipwith famous before I go down to my
+grave, I shall not have lived and laboured in vain."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Vixen felt a thrill of pity as she listened to this brief confession of
+a self-deluded solitary soul, which had built its house upon sand, as
+hopefully as if the foundations were solidest rock. The line of
+demarcation between such fanaticism as Miss Skipwith's and the
+hallucination of an old lady in Bedlam, who fancies herself Queen
+Victoria, seemed to Vixen but a hair's breadth. But, after all, if the
+old lady and Miss Skipwith were both happy in their harmless
+self-deceptions, why should one pity them? The creature to be pitied is
+the man or woman who keenly sees and feels the hard realities of life,
+and cannot take pleasure in phantoms.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Vixen ran off to her room to get her hat and gloves, delighted to find
+herself free. Miss Skipwith was not such a very bad sort of person,
+after all, perhaps. Liberty to roam about the island with her dog Vixen
+esteemed a great boon. She would be able to think about her troubles,
+unmolested by inquisitive looks or unwelcome sympathy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She went down to the court-yard, untied the faithful Argus, and they
+set out together to explore the unknown, the dog in such wild spirits
+that it was almost impossible for Vixen to be sad. The afternoon sun
+was shining in all his glory, birds were singing, flickering lights and
+shadows playing on the grassy banks. Argus scampered up and down the
+lanes, and burst tumultuously through gaps in the hedges, like a dog
+possessed of demons.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was a pretty little island, after all; Vixen was fain to admit as
+much. There was some justification for the people who sang its praises
+with such enthusiasm. One might have fancied it a fertile corner of
+Devonshire that had slipped its moorings and drifted westward on a
+summer sea.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I had Arion here, and&mdash;Rorie, I think I could be almost happy,"
+Vixen said to herself with a dreamy smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And Rorie!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alas, poor child! faintly, feebly steadfast in the barren path of
+honour: where could she not have been happy with the companion of her
+childhood, the one only love of her youth? Was there ever a spot of
+land or sea, from Hudson's Bay to the unmapped archipelago or
+hypothetical continent of the Southern Pole, where she could not have
+been happy with Roderick Vawdrey? She thought again of Helen Rolleston
+and her lover on the South Sea island. Ah what a happy fate was that of
+the consumptive heroine! Alone, protected, cherished, and saved from
+death by her devoted lover.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Poor Rorie! She knew how well she loved him, now that the wide sea
+rolled between them, now that she had said him nay, denied her love,
+and parted from him for ever.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She thought of that scene in the pine-wood, dimly lit by the young
+moon. She lived again those marvellous moments&mdash;the concentrated bliss
+and pain of a lifetime. She felt again the strong grasp of his hands,
+his breath upon her cheek, as he bent over her shoulder. Again she
+heard him pleading for the life-long union her soul desired as the most
+exquisite happiness life could give.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+  "I had not loved thee, dear, so well<BR>
+  Loved I not honour more."<BR>
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Those two familiar lines flashed into her mind as she thought of her
+lover. To have degraded herself, to have dishonoured him; no, it would
+have been too dreadful. Were he to plead again she must answer again as
+she had answered before.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"His mother despised me," she thought. "If people in a better world are
+really <I>au courant</I> as to the affairs of this, I should like Lady Jane
+Vawdrey to know that I am not utterly without the instincts of a
+gentlewoman."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She wandered on, following the winding of the lanes, careless where she
+went, and determined to take advantage of her liberty. She met few
+people, and of those she did not trouble herself to ask her way.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I lose myself on my desert island it can't much matter," she
+thought. "There is no one to be anxious about me. Miss Skipwith will be
+deep in her universal creed, and Captain Winstanley would be very glad
+for me to be lost. My death would leave him master for life of the
+Abbey House and all belonging to it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She roamed on till she came to the open seashore; a pretty little
+harbour surrounded with quaint-looking houses; two or three white
+villas in fertile gardens, on a raised road; and, dominating all the
+scene, a fine old feudal castle, with keep, battlements, drawbridge,
+portcullis, and all that becomes a fortress.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This was Mount Orgueil, the castle in which Charles Stuart spent a
+short period of his life, while Cromwell was ruling by land and sea,
+and kingly hopes were at their lowest ebb. The good old fortress had
+suffered for its loyalty, for the Parliament sent Admiral Blake, with a
+fleet, to reduce the rebellious island to submission, and Mount Orgueil
+had not been strong enough to hold out against its assailants.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Violet went up the sloping path that led to the grim old gateway under
+the gloomy arch, and still upward till she came to a sunny battlemented
+wall above the shining sea. The prospect was more than worth the
+trouble. Yonder, in the dim distance, were the towers of Coutance
+Cathedral; far away, mere spots in the blue water, were the smaller fry
+of the Channel Islands; below her, the yellow sands were smiling in the
+sun, the placid wavelets reflecting all the colour and glory of the
+changeful sky.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This would not be a bad place to live in, Argus, if&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She paused with her arm round her dog's neck, as he stood on end,
+looking over the parapet, with a deep interest in possible rats or
+rabbits lurking in some cavity of the craggy cliff below. If! Ah, what
+a big "if" that was! It meant love and dear familiar companionship. It
+meant all Vixen's little world.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She lingered long. The scene was beautiful, and there was nothing to
+lure her home. Then, at last, feeling that she was treating poor Miss
+Skipwith badly, and that her prolonged absence might give alarm in that
+dreary household, she retraced her steps, and at the foot of the craggy
+mount asked the nearest way to Les Tourelles.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The nearest way was altogether different from the track by which she
+had come, and brought her back to the old monastic gate in a little
+more than an hour. She opened the gate and went in. There was nothing
+for the most burglarious invader to steal at Les Tourelles, and bolts
+and locks were rarely used. Miss Skipwith was reading in her parlour, a
+white Persian cat dozing on a cushioned arm-chair beside her, some cups
+and saucers and a black teapot on a tray before her, and the rest of
+the table piled with books. There was no sign of Captain Winstanley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid I'm rather late," Vixen said apologetically.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She felt a kind of half-pitying respect for Miss Skipwith, as a
+harmless lunatic.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear, I daresay that as an absolute fact you are late," answered
+the lady of the manor, without looking up from her book, "but as time
+is never too long for me, I have been hardly conscious of the delay.
+Your stepfather has gone down to the club at St. Helier's to see some
+of his old acquaintances. Perhaps you would like a cup of tea?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Vixen replied that she would very much like some tea, whereupon Miss
+Skipwith poured out a weak and tepid infusion, against which the girl
+inwardly protested.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I am to exist at Les Tourelles, I must at least have decent tea,"
+she said to herself. "I must buy an occasional pound for my own
+consumption, make friends with Mrs. Doddery, and get her to brew it for
+me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And then Vixen knelt down by the arm-chair and tried to get upon
+intimate terms with the Persian. He was a serious-minded animal, and
+seemed inclined to resent her advances, so she left him in peace on his
+patchwork cushion, a relic of those earlier days when Miss Skipwith had
+squandered her precious hours on the feminine inanity of needle-work.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Vixen thought of the German <I>Volkslied</I>, as she looked at the old lady
+in the black cap, bending over a ponderous volume, with the
+solemn-visaged cat coiled on the chair beside her.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"Minerva's Vogel war ein Kauz."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+The Persian cat seemed as much an attribute of the female theologian as
+the bird of the goddess.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Vixen went to her room soon after dark, and thus avoided the Captain,
+who did not return till ten. She was worn out with the fatigue of the
+voyage, her long ramble, the painful thoughts and manifold agitations
+of the last two days. She set her candle on the dressing-table, and
+looked round the bare empty room, feeling as if she were in a dream. It
+was all strange, and unhomely, and comfortless; like one of those wild
+dream-pictures which seem so appallingly real in their hideous
+unreality.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I am to live here indefinitely&mdash;for the next six years, perhaps,
+until I come of age and am my own mistress. It is too dreadful!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She went to bed and slept a deep and comforting sleep, for very
+weariness: and she dreamt that she was walking on the battlements of
+Mount Orgueil, in the drowsy afternoon sunlight, with Charles Stuart;
+and the face of the royal exile was the face of Roderick Vawdrey, and
+the hand that held hers as they two stood side by side in the sunshine
+was the broad strong hand of her girlhood's friend.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When she went downstairs between eight and nine next morning she found
+Miss Skipwith pacing slowly to and fro the terrace in front of the
+drawing-room windows, conning over the pencil notes of her yesterday's
+studies.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your stepfather has been gone half-an-hour, my dear," said the lady of
+the manor. "He was very sorry to have to go without wishing you
+good-bye."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap02"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER II.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+Chiefly Financial.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Violet was gone. Her rooms were empty; her faithful little waiting-maid
+was dismissed; her dog's deep-toned thunder no longer sounded through
+the house, baying joyous welcome when his mistress came down for her
+early morning ramble in the shrubberies. Arion had been sent to grass,
+and was running wild in fertile pastures, shoeless and unfettered as
+the South American mustang on his native prairie. Nothing associated
+with the exiled heiress was left, except the rooms she had inhabited;
+and even they looked blank and empty and strange without her. It was
+almost as if a whole family had departed. Vixen's presence seemed to
+have filled the house with youth and freshness, and free joyous life.
+Without her all was silent as the grave.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Winstanley missed her daughter sorely. She had been wont to
+complain fretfully of the girl's exuberance; but the blank her absence
+made struck a chill to the mother's heart. She had fancied that life
+would be easier without Violet; that her union with her husband would
+be more complete; and now she found herself looking wistfully towards
+the door of her morning-room, listening vaguely for a footstep; and the
+figure she looked for at the door, and the footsteps she listened for
+in the corridor were not Conrad Winstanley's. It was the buoyant step
+of her daughter she missed; it was the bright frank face of her
+daughter she yearned for.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One day the captain surprised her in tears, and asked the reason of her
+melancholy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I daresay it's very weak of me, Conrad," she said piteously, "but I
+miss Violet more and more every day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is uncommonly weak of you," answered the Captain with agreeable
+candour, "but I suppose it's natural. People generally get attached to
+their worries; and as your daughter was an incessant worry, you very
+naturally lament her absence. I am honest enough to confess that I am
+very glad she is gone. We had no domestic peace while she was with us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But she is not to stay away for ever, Conrad. I cannot be separated
+from my only daughter for ever. That would be too dreadful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'For ever' is a long word," answered the Captain coolly. "She will
+come back to us&mdash;of course."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When, dear?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When she is older and wiser."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This was cold comfort. Mrs. Winstanley dried her tears, and resumed her
+crewel-work. The interesting variety of shades in green which modern
+art has discovered were a source of comfort to the mother's troubled
+mind. Moved to emulation by the results that had been achieved in
+artistic needle-work by the school at South Kensington and the Royal
+Tapestry Manufactory at Windsor, Pamela found in her crewel-work an
+all-absorbing labour. Matilda of Normandy could hardly have toiled more
+industriously at the Bayeux tapestry than did Mrs. Winstanley, in the
+effort to immortalise the fleeting glories of woodland blossom or
+costly orchid upon kitchen towelling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was a dull and lonely life which the mistress of the Abbey House led
+in these latter days of glowing summer weather; and perhaps it was only
+the distractions of crewels and point-lace which preserved her from
+melancholy madness. The Captain had been too long a bachelor to
+renounce the agreeable habits of a bachelor's existence. His amusements
+were all masculine, and more or less solitary. When there was no
+hunting, he gave himself up to fishing, and found his chief delight in
+the persecution of innocent salmon. He supplied the Abbey House larder
+with fish, sent an occasional basket to a friend, and dispatched the
+surplus produce of his rod to a fishmonger in London. He was an
+enthusiast at billiards, and would play with innocent Mr. Scobel rather
+than not play at all. He read every newspaper and periodical of mark
+that was published. He rode a good deal, and drove not a little in a
+high-wheeled dog-cart; quite an impossible vehicle for a lady. He
+transacted all the business of house, stable, gardens, and home-farm,
+and that in the most precise and punctual manner. He wrote a good many
+letters, and he smoked six or seven cigars every day. It must be
+obvious, therefore, that he had very little time to devote to his
+pretty middle-aged wife, whose languid airs and vapourish graces were
+likely to pall upon an ardent temper after a year of married life. Yet,
+though she found her days lonely, Mrs. Winstanley had no ground for
+complaint. What fault could a woman find in a husband who was always
+courteous and complimentary in his speech, whose domestic tastes were
+obvious, who thought it no trouble to supervise the smallest details of
+the household, who could order a dinner, lay out a garden, stock a
+conservatory, or amend the sanitary arrangements of a stable with equal
+cleverness; who never neglected a duty towards wife or society?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Winstanley could see no flaw in the perfection of her husband's
+character; but it began about this time slowly to dawn upon her languid
+soul that, as Captain Winstanley's wife, she was not so happy as she
+had been as Squire Tempest's widow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her independence was gone utterly. She awoke slowly to the
+comprehension of that fact. Her individuality was blotted out, or
+absorbed into her husband's being. She had no more power or influence
+in her own house, than the lowest scullion in her kitchen. She had
+given up her banking account, and the receipt of her rents, which in
+the days of her widowhood had been remitted to her half-yearly by the
+solicitor who collected them. Captain Winstanley had taken upon himself
+the stewardship of his wife's income. She had been inclined to cling to
+her cheque-book and her banking account at Southampton; but the Captain
+had persuaded her of the folly of such an arrangement.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why two balances and two accounts, when one will do?" he argued. "You
+have only to ask me for a cheque when you want it, or to give me your
+bills."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Whereupon the bride of six weeks had yielded graciously, and the
+balance had been transferred from the Southampton bank to Captain
+Winstanley's account at the Union.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But now, with Theodore's unsettled account of four years' standing
+hanging over her head by the single hair of the penny post, and likely
+to descend upon her any morning, Mrs. Winstanley regretted her
+surrendered banking account, with its balance of eleven hundred pounds
+or so. The Captain had managed everything with wondrous wisdom, no
+doubt. He had done away with all long credits. He paid all his bills on
+the first Saturday in the month, save such as could be paid weekly. He
+had reduced the price of almost everything supplied to the Abbey House,
+from the stable provender to the wax candles that lighted the faded
+sea-green draperies and white panelling of the drawing-room. The only
+expenditure over which he had no control was his wife's private
+disbursement; but he had a habit of looking surprised when she asked
+him for a cheque, and a business-like way of asking the amount
+required, which prevented her applying to him often. Still, there was
+that long-standing account of Madame Theodore's in the background, and
+Mrs. Winstanley felt that it was an account which must be settled
+sooner or later. Her disinclination to ask her husband for money had
+tended to swell Theodore's bill. She had bought gloves, ribbons, shoes,
+everything from that tasteful purveyor, and had even obtained the
+somewhat expensive material for her fancy work through Madame Theodore;
+a temporary convenience which she could hardly hope to enjoy gratis.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Like all weak women she had her occasional longings for independence,
+her moments of inward revolt against the smooth tyrant. The income was
+hers, she argued with herself sometimes, and she had a right to spend
+her own money as she pleased. But then she recalled her husband's grave
+warnings about the future and its insecurity. She had but a brief lease
+of her present wealth, and he was labouring to lay by a provision for
+the days to come.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would be wicked of me to thwart him in such a wise purpose," she
+told herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The restriction of her charities pained the soft-hearted Pamela not a
+little. To give to all who asked her had been the one unselfish
+pleasure of her narrow soul. She had been imposed upon, of course; had
+fed families whose fathers squandered their weekly wages in the cosy
+taproom of a village inn; had in some wise encouraged idleness and
+improvident living; but she had been the comforter of many a weary
+heart, the benefactor of many a patient care-oppressed mother, the
+raiser-up of many a sickly child drooping on its bed of pain.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Now, under the Captain's rule, she had the pleasure of seeing her name
+honourably recorded in the subscription list of every local charity:
+but her hand was no longer open to the surrounding poor, her good old
+Saxon name of Lady had lost its ancient significance. She was no longer
+the giver of bread to the hungry. She sighed and submitted,
+acknowledging her husband's superior wisdom.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You would not like to live in a semi-detached villa on the Southampton
+Road, would you, my dear Pamela?" asked the Captain.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I might die in a semi-detached house, Conrad. I'm sure I could not
+live in one," she exclaimed piteously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then, my love, we must make a tremendous effort and save all we can
+before your daughter comes of age, or else we shall assuredly have to
+leave the Abbey House. We might go abroad certainly, and live at Dinan,
+or some quiet old French town where provisions are cheap."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear Conrad, I could not exist in one of those old French towns,
+smelling perpetually of cabbage-soup."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then, my dear love, we must exercise the strictest economy, or life
+will be impossible six years hence."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pamela sighed and assented, with a sinking of her heart. To her mind
+this word economy was absolutely the most odious in the English
+language. Her life was made up of trifles; and they were all expensive
+trifles. She liked to be better dressed than any woman of her
+acquaintance. She liked to surround herself with pretty things; and the
+prettiness must take the most fashionable form, and be frequently
+renewed. She had dim ideas which she considered aesthetic, and which
+involved a good deal of shifting and improving of furniture.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Against all these expensive follies Captain Winstanley set his face
+sternly, using pretty words to his wife at all times, but proving
+himself as hard as rock when she tried to bend him to her will. He had
+not yet interfered with her toilet, for he had yet to learn what that
+cost.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This knowledge came upon him like a thunder-clap one sultry morning in
+July&mdash;real thunder impending in the metallic-tinted sky&mdash;about a month
+after Vixen's departure.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Theodore's long-expected bill was among the letters in the morning's
+bag&mdash;a bulky envelope which the Captain handed to his wife with his
+usual politeness. He never opened her letters, but he invariably asked
+to see them, and she always handed her correspondence over to him with
+a childlike meekness. To-day she was slow to hand the Captain her
+letter. She sat looking at the long list of items with a clouded brow,
+and forgot to pour out her husband's coffee in the abstraction of a
+troubled mind.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid your letters of this morning are not of a very pleasant
+character, my love," said the Captain, watchful of his wife's clouded
+countenance. "Is that a bill you are examining? I thought we paid ready
+money for everything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is my dressmaker's bill," faltered Mrs. Winstanley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A dressmaker's bill! That can't be very alarming. You look as awful,
+and the document looks as voluminous, as if it were a lawyer's bill,
+including the costs of two or three unlucky Chancery suits, or
+half-a-dozen conveyances. Let me have the account, dear, and I'll send
+your dressmaker a cheque next Saturday."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He held out his hand for the paper, but Pamela did not give it to him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid you'll think it awfully high, Conrad," she said, in a
+deprecating tone. "You see it has been running a long time&mdash;since the
+Christmas before dear Edward's death, in fact. I have paid Theodore
+sums on account in the meanwhile, but those seem to go for very little
+against the total of her bill. She is expensive, of course. All the
+West End milliners are; but her style is undeniable, and she is in
+direct association with Worth."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear Pamela, I did not ask you for her biography, I asked only for
+her bill. Pray let me see the total, and tell me if you have any
+objections to make against the items."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," sighed Mrs. Winstanley, bending over the document with a
+perplexed brow, "I believe&mdash;indeed, I am sure&mdash;I have had all the
+things. Many of them are dearer than I expected; but there is no rule
+as to the price of anything thoroughly Parisian, that has not been seen
+in London. One has to pay for style and originality. I hope you won't
+be vexed at having to write so large a cheque, Conrad, at a time when
+you are so anxious to save money. Next year I shall try my best to
+economise."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dearest Pamela, why beat about the bush? The bill must be paid,
+whatever its amount. I suppose a hundred pounds will cover it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Conrad, when many women give a hundred pounds for a single dress!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When they do I should say that Bedlam must be their natural and
+fitting abode," retorted the Captain, with suppressed ire. "The bill is
+more than a hundred then? Pray give it me, Pamela, and make an end of
+this foolishness."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This time Captain Winstanley went over to his wife, and took the paper
+out of her hand. He had not seen the total, but he was white with rage
+already. He had made up his mind to squeeze a small fortune out of the
+Abbey House estate during his brief lease of the property; and here was
+this foolish wife of his squandering hundreds upon finery.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Be kind enough to pour me out a cup of coffee," he said, resuming his
+seat, and deliberately spreading out the bill.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Great Heaven!" he cried, after a glance at the total. "This is too
+preposterous. The woman must be mad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The total was seventeen hundred and sixty-four pounds fourteen and
+sixpence. Mrs. Winstanley's payments on account amounted to four
+hundred pounds; leaving a balance of thirteen hundred and sixty-four
+pounds for the Captain to liquidate.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Indeed, dear Conrad, it is not such a very tremendous account,"
+pleaded Pamela, appalled by the expression of her husband's face.
+"Theodore has customers who spend two thousand a year with her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very laudable extravagance, if they are wives of millionaires, and
+have their silver-mines, or cotton-mills, or oil-wells to maintain
+them. But that the widow of a Hampshire squire, a lady who six years
+hence will have to exist upon a pittance, should run up such a bill as
+this is to my mind an act of folly that is almost criminal. From this
+moment I abandon all my ideas of nursing your estate, of providing
+comfortably for our future. Henceforward we must drift towards
+insolvency, like other people. It would be worse than useless for me to
+go on racking my brains in the endeavour to secure a given result, when
+behind my back your thoughtless extravagance is stultifying all my
+efforts."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Here Mrs. Winstanley dissolved into tears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh Conrad! How can you say such cruel things?" she sobbed. "I go
+behind your back! I stultify you! When I have allowed myself to be
+ruled and governed in everything! When I have even parted with my only
+child to please you!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not till your only child had tried to set the house on fire."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Indeed, Conrad, you are mistaken there. She never meant it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know nothing about her meaning," said the Captain moodily. "She did
+it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is too cruel, after all my sacrifices, that I should be called
+extravagant&mdash;and foolish&mdash;and criminal. I have only dressed as a lady
+ought to dress&mdash;out of mere self-respect. Dear Edward always liked to
+see me look nice. He never said an unkind word about my bills. It is a
+sad&mdash;sad change for me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your future will be a sadder change, if you go on in the way you are
+going," retorted the Captain. "Let me see: your income, after Violet
+comes of age, is to be fifteen hundred a year. You have been spending six
+hundred a year upon millinery. That leaves nine hundred for everything
+else&mdash;stable, garden, coals, taxes, servants' wages, wine&mdash;to say
+nothing of such trifling claims as butcher and baker, and the rest of
+it. You will have to manage with wonderful cleverness to make both ends
+meet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sure I would sacrifice anything rather than live unhappily with
+you, Conrad," Mrs. Winstanley murmured piteously, drinking much strong
+tea in her agitation, the cup shaking in her poor little white weak
+hand. "Nothing could be so dreadful to me as to live on bad terms with
+you. I have surrendered so much for your love, Conrad. What would
+become of me, if I lost that? I will give up dealing with Theodore, if
+you like&mdash;though it will be a hard trial, after she has worked for me
+so many years, and has studied my style and knows exactly what suits
+me. I will dress ever so plainly, and even have my gowns made by a
+Southampton dressmaker, though that will be too dreadful. You will
+hardly recognise me. But I will do anything&mdash;anything, Conrad, rather
+than hear you speak so cruelly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She went over to him and laid her hand tremulously on his shoulder, and
+looked down at him with piteous, pleading eyes. No Circassian slave,
+afraid of bowstring and sack, could have entreated her master's
+clemency with deeper self-abasement.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Even Conrad Winstanley's hard nature was touched by the piteousness of
+her look and tone. He took the hand gently and raised it to his lips.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't mean to be cruel, Pamela," he said. "I only want you to face
+the truth, and to understand your future position. It is your own money
+you are squandering, and you have a right to waste it, if it pleases
+you to do so. But it is a little hard for a man who has laboured and
+schemed for a given result, suddenly to find himself out in his
+calculations by so much as thirteen hundred and sixty-four pounds. Let
+us say no more about it, my dear. Here is the bill, and it must be
+paid. We have only to consider the items, and see if the prices are
+reasonable."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And then the Captain, with bent brow and serious aspect, began to read
+the lengthy record of an English lady's folly. Most of the items he
+passed over in silence, or with only a sigh, keeping his wife by his
+side, looking over his shoulder.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Point out anything that is wrong," he said; but as yet Mrs. Winstanley
+had found no error in the bill.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sometimes there came an item which moved the Captain to speech. "A
+dinner-dress, <I>pain brûlé</I> brocade, mixed <I>poult de soie</I>, <I>manteau de
+cour</I>, lined ivory satin, trimmed with hand-worked embroidery of wild
+flowers on Brussels net, sixty-three pounds."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What in the name of all that's reasonable is <I>pain brûlé?</I>" asked the
+Captain impatiently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's the colour, Conrad. One of those delicate tertiaries that have
+been so much worn lately."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sixty guineas for a dinner-dress! That's rather stiff. Do you know
+that a suit of dress-clothes costs me nine pounds, and lasts almost as
+many years?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear Conrad, for a man it is so different. No one looks at your
+clothes. That dress was for Lady Ellangowan's dinner. You made me very
+happy that night, for you told me I was the best-dressed woman in the
+room."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should not have been very happy myself if I had known the cost of
+your gown," answered the Captain grimly. "Fifteen guineas for a Honiton
+<I>fichu!</I>" he cried presently. "What in mercy's name is a <I>fichu?</I> It
+sounds like a sneeze."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is a little half-handkerchief that I wear to brighten a dark silk
+dress when we dine alone, Conrad. You know you have always said that
+lace harmonises a woman's dress, and gives a softness to the complexion
+and contour."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall be very careful what I say in future," muttered the Captain,
+as he went on with the bill. "French cambric <I>peignoir</I>, trimmed real
+Valenciennes, turquoise ribbon, nineteen guineas," he read presently.
+"Surely you would never give twenty pounds for a gown you wear when you
+are having your hair dressed?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is only the name, dear. It is really a breakfast-dress. You know
+you always like to see me in white of a morning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Captain groaned and said nothing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come," he said, by-and-by, "this surely must be a mistake. 'Shooting
+dress, superfine silk corduroy, trimmed and lined with cardinal <I>poult
+de soie</I>, oxydised silver buttons, engraved hunting subjects,
+twenty-seven guineas.' Thank Heaven you are not one of those masculine
+women who go out shooting, and jump over five-barred gates."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The dress is quite right, dear, though I don't shoot. Theodore sent it
+to me for a walking-dress, and I have worn it often when we have walked
+in the Forest. You thought it very stylish and becoming, though just a
+little fast."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I see," said the Captain, with a weary air, "your not shooting does
+not hinder your having shooting-dresses. Are there any
+fishing-costumes, or riding-habits, in the bill?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, dear. It was Theodore's own idea to send me the corduroy dress.
+She thought it so new and <I>recherché</I>, and even the Duchess admired it.
+Mine was the first she had ever seen."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That was a triumph worth twenty-seven guineas, no doubt," sighed the
+Captain. "Well, I suppose there is no more to be said. The bill to me
+appears iniquitous. If you were a duchess or a millionaire's wife, of
+course it would be different. Such women have a right to spend all they
+can upon dress. They encourage trade. I am no Puritan. But when a woman
+dresses beyond her means&mdash;above her social position&mdash;I regret the wise
+old sumptuary laws which regulated these things in the days when a fur
+coat was a sign of nobility. If you only knew, Pamela, how useless this
+expensive finery is, how little it adds to your social status, how
+little it enhances your beauty! Why, the finest gown this Madame
+Theodore ever made cannot hide one of your wrinkles."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My wrinkles!" cried Pamela, sorely wounded. "That is the first time I
+ever heard of them. To think that my husband should be the first to
+tell me I am getting an old woman! But I forgot, you are younger than
+I, and I daresay in your eyes I seem quite old."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear Pamela, be reasonable. Can a woman's forehead at forty be
+quite as smooth as it was at twenty? However handsome a woman is at
+that age&mdash;and to my mind it is almost the best age for beauty, just as
+the ripe rich colouring of a peach is lovelier than the poor little
+pale blossom that preceded it&mdash;however attractive a middle-aged woman
+may be there must be some traces to show that she has lived half her
+life; and to suppose that pain brûlé brocade, and hand-worked
+embroidery, can obliterate those, is extreme folly. Dress in rich and
+dark velvets, and old point-lace that has been twenty years in your
+possession, and you will be as beautiful and as interesting as a
+portrait by one of the old Venetian masters. Can Theodore's highest art
+make you better than that? Remember that excellent advice of old
+Polonius's,
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+  Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,<BR>
+  But not expressed in fancy.<BR>
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+It is the fancy that swells your milliner's bill, the newly-invented
+trimmings, the complex and laborious combinations."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will be dreadfully economical in future, Conrad. For the last year I
+have dressed to please you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But what becomes of all these gowns?" asked the Captain, folding up
+the bill; "what do you do with them?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They go out."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Out where? To the colonies?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, dear; they go out of fashion; and I give them to Pauline."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A sixty-guinea dress flung to your waiting-maid! The Duchess of
+Dovedale could not do things in better style."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should be very sorry not to dress better than the Duchess," said
+Mrs. Winstanley, "she is always hideously dowdy. But a duchess can
+afford to dress as badly as she likes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I see. Then it is we only who occupy the border-land of society who
+have to be careful. Well, my dear Pamela, I shall send Madame Theodore
+her cheque, and with your permission close her account; and, unless you
+receive some large accession of fortune I should recommend you not to
+reopen it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His wife gave a heart-breaking sigh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I would sacrifice anything for your sake, Conrad," she said, "but I
+shall be a perfect horror, and you will hate me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I fell in love with you, my dear, not with your gown."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you fell in love with me in my gown, dear; and you don't know how
+different your feelings might have been if you had seen me in a gown
+cut by a country dressmaker."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap03"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER III.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+"With weary Days thou shalt be clothed and fed."
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Captain Winstanley never again alluded to the dressmaker's bill. He was
+too wise a man to reopen old wounds or to dwell upon small vexations.
+He had invested every penny that he could spare, leaving the smallest
+balance at his banker's compatible with respectability. He had to sell
+some railway shares in order to pay Madame Theodore. Happily the shares
+had gone up since his purchase of them, and he lost nothing by the
+transaction; but it galled him sorely to part with the money. It was as
+if an edifice that he had been toilfully raising, stone by stone, had
+begun to crumble under his hands. He knew not when or whence the next
+call might come. The time in which he had to save money was so short.
+Only six years, and the heiress would claim her estate, and Mrs.
+Winstanley would be left with the empty shell of her present
+position&mdash;the privilege of occupying a fine old Tudor mansion, with
+enormous stables, and fifteen acres of garden and shrubberies, and an
+annuity that would barely suffice to maintain existence in a third-rate
+London square.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Winstanley was slow to recover from the shock of her husband's
+strong language about Theodore's bill. She was sensitive about all
+things that touched her own personality, and she was peculiarly
+sensitive about the difference between her husband's age and her own.
+She had married a man who was her junior; but she had married him with
+the conviction that, in his eyes at least, she had all the bloom and
+beauty of youth, and that he admired and loved her above all other
+women. That chance allusion to her wrinkles had pierced her heart. She
+was deeply afflicted by the idea that her husband had perceived the
+signs of advancing years in her face. And now she fell to perusing her
+looking-glass more critically than she had ever done before. She saw
+herself in the searching north light; and the north light was more
+cruel and more candid than Captain Winstanley. There were lines on her
+forehead&mdash;unmistakable, ineffaceable lines. She could wear her hair in
+no way that would hide them, unless she had hidden her forehead
+altogether under a bush of frizzy fluffy curls. There was a faded look
+about her complexion, too, which she had never before discovered&mdash;a
+wanness, a yellowness. Yes, these things meant age! In such a spirit,
+perchance, did Elizabeth of England survey the reflection in her
+mirror, until all the glories of her reign seemed as nothing to her
+when weighed against this dread horror of fast-coming age. And luckless
+Mary, cooped up in the narrow rooms at Fotheringay, may have deemed
+captivity, and the shadow of doom, as but trifling ills compared with
+the loss of youth and beauty. Once to have been exquisitely beautiful,
+the inspiration of poets, the chosen model of painters, and to see the
+glory fading&mdash;that, for a weak woman, must be sorrow's crown of sorrow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Anon dim feelings of jealousy began to gnaw Pamela's heart. She grew
+watchful of her husband's attentions to other women, suspicious of
+looks and words that meant no more than a man's desire to please.
+Society no longer made her happy. Her Tuesday afternoons lost their
+charm. There was poison in everything. Lady Ellangowan's flirting ways,
+which had once only amused her, now tortured her. Captain Winstanley's
+devotion to this lively matron, which had heretofore seemed only the
+commoner's tribute of respect to the peeress, now struck his wife as a
+too obvious infatuation for the woman. She began to feel wretched in
+the society of certain women&mdash;nay, of all women who were younger, or
+possibly more attractive, than herself. She felt that the only security
+for her peace would be to live on a desert island with the husband she
+had chosen. She was of too weak a mind to hide these growing doubts and
+ever-augmenting suspicions. The miserable truth oozed out of her in
+foolish little speeches; those continual droppings that wear the
+hardest stone, and which wore even the adamantine surface of the
+Captain's tranquil temper. There was a homoeopathic admixture of this
+jealous poison in all the food he ate. He could rarely get through a
+<I>tête-à-tête</I> breakfast or dinner undisturbed by some invidious remark.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One day the Captain rose up in his strength, and grappled with this
+jealous demon. He had let the little speeches, the random shots, pass
+unheeded until now; but on one particularly dismal morning, a bleak
+March morning, when the rain beat against the windows, and the deodoras
+and cypresses were lashed and tormented by the blusterous wind, and the
+low sky was darkly gray, the captain's temper suddenly broke out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear Pamela, is it possible that these whimpering little speeches
+of yours mean jealousy?" he asked, looking at her severely from under
+bent brows.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm sure I never said that I was jealous," faltered Pamela, stirring
+her tea with a nervous movement of her thin white band.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course not; no woman cares to describe herself in plain words as an
+idiot; but of late you have favoured me with a good many imbecile
+remarks, which all seem to tend one way. You are hurt and wounded when
+I am decently civil to the women I meet in society. Is that sensible or
+reasonable, in a woman of your age and experience?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You used not to taunt me with my age before we were married, Conrad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do I taunt you with it now? I only say that a woman of forty,"&mdash;Mrs.
+Winstanley shuddered&mdash;"ought to have more sense than a girl of
+eighteen; and that a woman who had had twenty years' experience of
+well-bred society ought not to put on the silly jealousies of a
+school-girl trying to provoke a quarrel with her first lover."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is all very well to pretend to think me weak and foolish, Conrad.
+Yes, I know I am weak, ridiculously weak, in loving you as intensely as
+I do. But I cannot help that. It is my nature to cling to others, as
+the ivy clings to the oak. I would have clung to Violet, if she had
+been more loving and lovable. But you cannot deny that your conduct to
+Lady Ellangowan yesterday afternoon was calculated to make any wife
+unhappy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If a wife is to be unhappy because her husband talks to another woman
+about her horses and her gardens, I suppose I gave you sufficient cause
+for misery," answered the Captain sneeringly. "I can declare that Lady
+Ellangowan and I were talking of nothing more sentimental."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Conrad, it is not <I>what</I> you talked about, though your voice was
+so subdued that it was impossible for anyone to know what you were
+saying&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Except Lady Ellangowan."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was your manner. The way you bent over her, your earnest
+expression."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would you have had me stand three yards off and bawl at the lady? Or
+am I bound to assume that bored and vacuous countenance which some
+young men consider good form? Come, my dear Pamela, pray let us be
+reasonable. Here are you and I settled for life beside the domestic
+hearth. We have no children. We are not particularly well off&mdash;it will
+be as much as we shall be able to do, by-and-by, to make both ends
+meet. We are neither of us getting younger. These things are serious
+cares, and we have to bear them. Why should you add to these an
+imaginary trouble, a torment that has no existence, save in your own
+perverse mind? If you could but know my low estimate of the women to
+whom I am civil! I like society: and to get on in society a man must
+make himself agreeable to influential women. It is the women who have
+the reins in the social race, and by-and-by, if I should go into
+Parliament&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Parliament!" cried his wife affrightedly. "You want to become a Member
+of Parliament, and to be out at all hours of the night! Our home-life
+would be altogether destroyed then."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear Pamela, if you take such pains to make our home-life
+miserable, it will be hardly worth preserving," retorted the Captain.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Conrad, I am going to ask you a question&mdash;a very solemn question."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You alarm me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Long ago&mdash;before we were married&mdash;when Violet was arguing with me
+against our marriage&mdash;you know how vehemently she opposed it&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perfectly. Go on."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She told me that you had proposed to her before you proposed to me.
+Oh, Conrad, could that be true?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The heart-rending tone in which the question was asked, the pathetic
+look that accompanied it, convinced Captain Winstanley that, if he
+valued his domestic peace, he must perjure himself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It had no more foundation than many other assertions of that young
+lady's," he said. "I may have paid her compliments, and praised her
+beauty; but how could I think of her for a wife, when you were by? Your
+soft confiding nature conquered me before I knew that I was hit."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He got up and went over to his wife and kissed her kindly enough,
+feeling sorry for her as he might have done for a wayward child that
+weeps it scarce knows wherefore, oppressed by a vague sense of
+affliction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let us try to be happy together, Pamela," he pleaded, with a sigh,
+"life is weary work at best."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That means that you are not happy, Conrad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My love, I am as happy as you will let me be."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have I ever opposed you in anything?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, dear; but lately you have indulged in covert upbraidings that have
+plagued me sorely. Let us have no more of them. As for your
+daughter"&mdash;his face darkened at the mention of that name&mdash;"understand
+at once and for ever that she and I can never inhabit the same house.
+If she comes, I go. If you cannot live without her you must learn to
+live without me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Conrad, what have I done that you should talk of such a thing? Have I
+asked you to let Violet come home?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, but you have behaved mopishly of late, as if you were pining for
+her return."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I pine for nothing but your love."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That has always been yours."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With this assurance Mrs. Winstanley was fain to content herself, but
+even this assurance did not make her happy. The glory and brightness
+had departed from her life somehow; and neither kind words nor friendly
+smiles from the Captain could lure them back. There are stages in the
+lives of all of us when life seems hardly worth living: not periods of
+great calamity, but dull level bits of road along which the journey
+seems very weary. The sun has hidden himself behind gray clouds, cold
+winds are blowing up from the bitter east, the birds have left off
+singing, the landscape has lost its charm. We plod on drearily, and can
+see no Pole Star in life's darkening sky.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It had been thus of late with Pamela Winstanley. Slowly and gradually
+the conviction had come to her that her second marriage had been a
+foolish and ill-advised transaction, resulting inevitably in sorrow and
+unavailing remorse. The sweet delusion that it had been a love-match on
+Captain Winstanley's side, as well as on her own, abandoned her all at
+once, and she found herself face to face with stern common-sense.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+That scene about Theodore's bill had exercised a curious effect upon
+her mind. To an intellect so narrow, trifles were important, and that
+the husband who had so much admired and praised the elegance of her
+appearance could grudge the cost of her toilet galled her sorely. It
+was positively for her the first revelation of her husband's character.
+His retrenchments in household expenses she had been ready to applaud
+as praiseworthy economies; but when he assailed her own extravagance,
+she saw in him a husband who loved far too wisely to love well.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If he cared for me, if he valued my good looks, he could never object
+to my spending a few pounds upon a dress," she told herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She could not take the Captain's common-sense view of a subject so
+important to herself. Love in her mind meant a blind indulgence like
+the Squire's. Love that could count the cost of its idol's caprices,
+and calculate the chances of the future, was not love. That feeling of
+poverty, too, was a new sensation to the mistress of the Abbey House,
+and a very unpleasant one. Married very young to a man of ample means,
+who adored her, and never set the slightest restriction upon her
+expenditure, extravagance had become her second nature. To have to
+study every outlay, to ask herself whether she could not do without a
+thing, was a hard trial; but it had become so painful to her to ask the
+Captain for money that she preferred the novel pain of self-denial to
+that humiliation. And then there was the cheerless prospect of the
+future always staring her in the face, that dreary time after Violet's
+majority, when it would be a question whether she and her husband could
+afford to go on living at the Abbey House.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Everybody will know that my income is diminished," she thought.
+"However well we may manage, people will know that we are pinching."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This was a vexatious reflection. The sting of poverty itself could not
+be so sharp as the pain of being known to be poor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Captain Winstanley pursued the even tenor of his way all this time, and
+troubled himself but little about his wife's petty sorrows. He did his
+duty to her according to his own lights, and considered that she had no
+ground for complaint. He even took pains to be less subdued in his
+manner to Lady Ellangowan, and to give no shadow of reason for the
+foolish jealousy he so much despised. His mind was busy about his own
+affairs. He had saved money since his marriage, and he employed himself
+a good deal in the investment of his savings. So far he had been lucky
+in all he touched, and had contrived to increase his capital by one or
+two speculative ventures in foreign railways. If things went on as well
+for the next six years he and his wife might live at the Abbey House,
+and maintain their station in the county, till the end of the chapter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I daresay Pamela will outlive me," thought the Captain; "those
+fragile-looking invalid women are generally long lived. And I have all
+the chances of the hunting-field, and vicious horses, and other men's
+blundering with loaded guns, against me. What can happen to a woman who
+sits at home and works crewel antimacassars and reads novels all day,
+and never drinks anything stronger than tea, and never eats enough to
+disturb her digestion? She ought to be a female Methuselah."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Secure in this idea of his wife's longevity, and happy in his
+speculations, Captain Winstanley looked forward cheerfully to the
+future: and the evil shadow of the day when the hand of fate should
+thrust him from the good old house where he was master had never fallen
+across his dreams.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap04"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER IV.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+Love and AEsthetics.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Spring had returned, primroses and violets were being sold at the
+street-corners, Parliament was assembled, and London had reawakened
+from its wintry hibernation to new life and vigour. The Dovedales were
+at their Kensington mansion. The Duchess had sent forth her cards for
+alternate Thursday evenings of a quasi-literary and scientific
+character. Lady Mabel was polishing her poems with serious thoughts of
+publication, but with strictest secrecy. No one but her parents and
+Roderick Vawdrey had been told of these poetic flights. The book would
+be given to the world under a <I>nom de plume</I>. Lady Mabel was not so
+much a Philistine as to suppose that writing good poetry could be a
+disgrace to a duke's daughter; but she felt that the house of Ashbourne
+would be seriously compromised were the critics to find her guilty of
+writing doggerel; and critics are apt to deal harshly with the titled
+muse. She remembered Brougham's savage onslaught upon the boy Byron.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Vawdrey was in town. He rode a good deal in the Row, spent an hour
+or so daily at Tattersall's, haunted three or four clubs of a juvenile
+and frivolous character, drank numerous bottles of Apolinaris, and
+found the task of killing time rather hard labour. Of course there were
+certain hours in which he was on duty at Kensington. He was expected to
+eat his luncheon there daily, to dine when neither he nor the ducal
+house had any other engagement, and to attend all his aunt's parties.
+There was always a place reserved for him at the dinner-table, however
+middle-aged and politically or socially important the assembly might me.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He was to be married early in August. Everything was arranged. The
+honeymoon was to be spent in Sweden and Norway&mdash;the only accessible
+part of Europe which Lady Mabel had not explored. They were to see
+everything remarkable in the two countries, and to do Denmark as well,
+if they had time. Lady Mabel was learning Swedish and Norwegian, in
+order to make the most of her opportunities.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is so wretched to be dependent upon couriers and interpreters," she
+said. "I shall be a more useful companion for you, Roderick, if I
+thoroughly know the language of each country."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear Mabel, you are a most remarkable girl," exclaimed her
+betrothed admiringly. "If you go on at this rate, by the time you are
+forty you will be as great a linguist as Cardinal Wiseman."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Languages are very easy to learn when one has the habit of studying
+them, and a slight inclination for etymology," Lady Mabel replied
+modestly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Now that the hour of publication was really drawing nigh, the poetess
+began to feel the need of a confidante. The Duchess was admiring but
+somewhat obtuse, and rarely admired in the right place. The Duke was
+out of the question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+If a new Shakespeare had favoured him with the first reading of a
+tragedy as great as "Hamlet," the Duke's thoughts would have wandered
+off to the impending dearth of guano, or the probable exhaustion of
+Suffolk punches, and the famous breed of Chillingham oxen. So, for want
+of anyone better, Lady Mabel was constrained to read her verses to her
+future husband; just as Molière reads his plays to his housekeeper, for
+want of any other hearer, the two Béjarts, aunt and niece, having
+naturally plays enough and to spare in the theatre.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Now, in this crucial hour of her poetic career, Mabel Ashbourne wanted
+something more than a patient listener. She wanted a critic with a fine
+ear for rhythm and euphony. She wanted a judge who could nicely weigh
+the music of a certain combination of syllables, and who could decide
+for her when she hesitated between two epithets of equal force, but
+varying depths of tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+To this nice task she invited her betrothed sometimes on a sunny April
+afternoon, when luncheon was over, and the lovers were free to repair
+to Lady Mabel's own particular den&mdash;an airy room on an upper floor,
+with quaint old Queen Anne casements opening upon a balcony crammed
+with flowers, and overlooking the umbrageous avenues of Kensington
+Garden, with a glimpse of the old red palace in the distance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Rorie did his best to be useful, and applied himself to his duty with
+perfect heartiness and good-temper; but luncheon and the depressing
+London atmosphere made him sleepy, and he had sometimes hard work to
+stifle his yawns, and to keep his eyes open, while Lady Mabel was deep
+in the entanglement of lines which soared to the seventh heaven of
+metaphysics. Unhappily Rorie knew hardly anything about metaphysics. He
+had never read Victor Cousin, or any of the great German lights; and a
+feeling of despair took possession of him when his sweetheart's poetry
+degenerated into diluted Hegelism, or rose to a feeble imitation of
+Browning's obscurest verse.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Either I must be intensely stupid or this must be rather difficult to
+understand," he thought helplessly, when Mabel had favoured him with
+the perusal of the first act of a tragedy or poetic dialogue, in which
+the hero, a kind of milk-and-watery Faustus, held converse, and argued
+upon the deeper questions of life and faith, with a very mild Mephisto.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid you don't like the opening of my 'Tragedy of the Sceptic
+Soul'," Lady Mabel said with a somewhat offended air, as she looked up
+at the close of the act, and saw poor Rorie gazing at her with watery
+eyes, and an intensely despondent expression of countenance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid I'm rather dense this afternoon," he said with hasty
+apology, "I think your first act is beautifully written&mdash;the lines are
+full of music; nobody with an ear for euphony could doubt that; but
+I&mdash;forgive me, I fancy you are sometimes a shade too metaphysical&mdash;and
+those scientific terms which you occasionally employ, I fear will be a
+little over the heads of the general public&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear Roderick, do you suppose that in an age whose highest
+characteristic is the rapid advance of scientific knowledge, there can
+be anybody so benighted as not to understand the terminology of
+science?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps not, dear. I fear I am very much behind the times. I have
+lived too much in Hampshire. I frankly confess that some expressions in
+your&mdash;er&mdash;Tragedy of&mdash;er&mdash;Soulless Scept&mdash;Sceptic Soul&mdash;were Greek to
+me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor dear Roderick, I should hardly take you as the highest example of
+the <I>Zeitgeist;</I> but I won't allow you to call yourself stupid. I'm
+glad you like the swing of the verse. Did it remind you of any
+contemporary poet?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, yes, I think it dimly suggested Browning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am glad of that. I would not for worlds be an imitator; but Browning
+is my idol among poets."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Some of his minor pieces are awfully jolly," said the incorrigible
+Rorie. "That little poem called 'Youth and Art,' for instance. And
+'James Lee's Wife' is rather nice, if one could quite get at what it
+means. But I suppose that is too much to expect from any great poet?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There are deeper meanings beneath the surface&mdash;meanings which require
+study," replied Mabel condescendingly. "Those are the religion of
+poetry&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No doubt," assented Rorie hastily; "but frankly, my dear Mabel, if you
+want your book to be popular&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't want my book to be popular. Browning is not popular. If I had
+wanted to be popular, I should have worked on a lower level. I would
+even have stooped to write a novel."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well then I will say, if you want your poem to be understood by the
+average intellect, I really would sink the scientific terminology, and
+throw overboard a good deal of the metaphysics. Byron has not a
+scientific or technical phrase in all his poems."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear Roderick, you surely would not compare me to Byron, the poet
+of the Philistines. You might as well compare me with the author of
+'Lalla Rookh,' or advise me to write like Rogers or Campbell."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I beg your pardon, my dear Mabel. I'm afraid I must be an out and out
+Philistine, for to my mind Byron is the prince of poets. I would rather
+have written 'The Giaour' than anything that has ever been published
+since it appeared."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My poor Roderick!" exclaimed Mabel, with a pitying sigh. "You might as
+well say you would be proud of having written 'The Pickwick Papers'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And so I should!" cried Rorie heartily. "I should think no end of
+myself if I had invented Winkle. Do you remember his ride from
+Rochester to Dingley Dell?&mdash;one of the finest things that was ever
+written."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And this incorrigible young man flung himself back in the low
+arm-chair, and laughed heartily at the mere recollection of that
+episode in the life of the famous Nathaniel. Mabel Ashbourne closed her
+manuscript volume with a sigh, and registered an oath that she would
+never read any more of her poetry to Roderick Vawdrey. It was quite
+useless. The poor young man meant well, but he was incorrigibly
+stupid&mdash;a man who admired Byron and Dickens, and believed Macaulay the
+first of historians.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In the realm of thought we must dwell apart all our lives," Mabel told
+herself despairingly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The horses are ordered for five," she said, as she locked the precious
+volume in her desk; "will you get yours and come back for me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall be delighted," answered her lover, relieved at being let off
+so easily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was about this time that Lord Mallow, who was working with all his
+might for the regeneration of his country, made a great hit in the
+House by his speech on the Irish land question. He had been doing
+wonderful things in Dublin during the winter, holding forth to
+patriotic assemblies in the Round Room of the Rotunda, boldly declaring
+himself a champion of the Home Rulers' cause, demanding Repeal and
+nothing but Repeal. He was one of the few Repealers who had a stake in
+the country, and who was likely to lose by the disruption of social
+order. If foolish, he was at least disinterested, and had the courage
+of his opinions. This was in the days when Mr. Gladstone was Prime
+Minister, and when Irish Radicals looked to him as the one man who
+could and would give them Home Rule.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In the House of Commons Lord Mallow was not ashamed to repeat the
+arguments he had used in the Round Room. If his language was less
+vehement at Westminster than it had been in Dublin, his opinions were
+no less thorough. He had his party here, as well as on the other side
+of the Irish Channel; and his party applauded him. Here was a statesman
+and a landowner willing to give an ell, where Mr. Gladstone's Land Act
+gave only an inch. Hibernian newspapers sung his praises in glowing
+words, comparing him to Burke, Curran, and O'Connell. He had for some
+time been a small lion at evening parties; he now began to be lionised
+at serious dinners. He was thought much of in Carlton Gardens, and his
+name figured at official banquets in Downing Street. The Duchess of
+Dovedale considered it a nice trait in his character that, although he
+was so much in request, and worked so hard in the House, he never
+missed one of her Thursday evenings. Even when there was an important
+debate on he would tear up Birdcage Walk in a hansom, and spend an hour
+in the Duchess's amber drawing-rooms, enlightening Lady Mabel as to the
+latest aspect of the Policy of Conciliation, or standing by the piano
+while she played Chopin.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lord Mallow had never forgotten his delight at finding a young lady
+thoroughly acquainted with the history of his native land, thoroughly
+interested in Erin's struggles and Erin's hopes; a young lady who knew
+all about the Protestants of Ulster, and what was meant by Fixity of
+Tenure. He came to Lady Mabel naturally in his triumphs, and he came to
+her in his disappointments. She was pleased and flattered by his faith
+in her wisdom, and was always ready to lend a gracious ear. She, whose
+soul was full of ambition, was deeply interested in the career of an
+ambitious young man&mdash;a man who had every excuse for being shallow and
+idle, and yet was neither.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If Roderick were only like him there would be nothing wanting in my
+life," she thought regretfully. "I should have felt much a pride in a
+husband's fame, I should have worked so gladly to assist him in his
+career. The driest blue-books would not have been too weary for me&mdash;the
+dullest drudgery of parliamentary detail would have been pleasant work,
+if it could have helped him in his progress to political distinctions."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One evening, when Mabel and Lord Mallow were standing in the embrasure
+of a window, walled in by the crowd of aristocratic nobodies and
+intellectual eccentricities, talking earnestly of poor Erin and her
+chances of ultimate happiness, the lady, almost unawares, quoted a
+couplet of her own which seemed peculiarly applicable to the argument.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Whose lines are those?" Lord Mallow asked eagerly; "I never heard them
+before."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mabel blushed like a schoolgirl detected in sending a valentine.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Upon my soul," cried the Irishman, "I believe they are your own! Yes,
+I am sure of it. You, whose mind is so high above the common level,
+must sometimes express yourself in poetry. They are yours, are they
+not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can you keep a secret?" Lady Mabel asked shyly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"For you? Yes, on the rack. Wild horses should not tear it out of my
+heart; boiling lead, falling on me drop by drop, should not extort it
+from me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The lines are mine. I have written a good deal&mdash;in verse. I am going
+to publish a volume, anonymously, before the season is over. It is
+quite a secret. No one&mdash;except mamma and papa, and Mr. Vawdrey&mdash;knows
+anything about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How proud they&mdash;how especially proud Mr. Vawdrey must be of your
+genius," said Lord Mallow. "What a lucky fellow he is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He was thinking just at that moment of Violet Tempest, to whose secret
+preference for Roderick Vawdrey he attributed his own rejection. And
+now here&mdash;where again he might have found the fair ideal of his
+youthful dreams&mdash;here where he might have hoped to form an alliance at
+once socially and politically advantageous&mdash;this young Hampshire's
+squire was before him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think Mr. Vawdrey is particularly interested in my poetical
+efforts," Lady Mabel said with assumed carelessness. "He doesn't care
+for poetry. He likes Byron."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What an admirable epigram!" cried the Hibernian, to whom flattery was
+second nature. "I shall put that down in my commonplace book when I go
+home. How I wish you would honour me&mdash;but it is to ask too much,
+perhaps&mdash;how proud I should be if you would let me hear, or see, some
+of your poems."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would you really like&mdash;&mdash;?" faltered Lady Mabel.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Like! I should deem it the highest privilege your friendship could
+vouchsafe."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I felt sure it would not bore you, I should like much to have your
+opinion, your candid opinion," (Lord Mallow tried to look the essense
+of candour) "upon some things I have written. But it would be really to
+impose too much upon your good-nature."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would be to make me the proudest, and&mdash;for that one brief hour at
+least&mdash;the happiest of men," protested Lord Mallow, looking intensely
+sentimental.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you will deal frankly with me? You will not flatter? You will be
+as severe as an Edinburgh reviewer?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will be positively brutal," said Lord Mallow. "I will try to imagine
+myself an elderly feminine contributor to the 'Saturday,' looking at
+you with vinegar gaze through a pair of spectacles, bent upon spotting
+every fleck and flaw in your work, and predetermined not to see
+anything good in it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I will trust you!" cried Lady Mabel, with a gush. "I have longed
+for a listener who could understand and criticise, and who would be too
+honourable to flatter. I will trust you, as Marguerite of Valois
+trusted Clement Marot."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lord Mallow did not know anything about the French poet and his royal
+mistress, but he contrived to look as if he did. And, before he ran
+away to the House presently, he gave Lady Mabel's hand a tender little
+pressure which she accepted in all good faith as a sign manual of the
+compact between them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They met in the Row next morning, and Lord Mallow asked&mdash;as earnestly
+as if the answer involved vital issues&mdash;when he might be permitted to
+hear those interesting poems.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Whenever you can spare time to listen," answered Lady Mabel, more
+flattered by his earnestness than by all the adulatory nigar-plums
+which had been showered upon her since her <I>début</I>. "If you have
+nothing better to do this afternoon&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Could I have anything better to do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We won't enter upon so wide a question," said Lady Mabel, laughing
+prettily. "If committee-rooms and public affairs can spare you for an
+hour or two, come to tea with mamma at five. I'll get her to deny
+herself to all the rest of the world, and we can have an undisturbed
+hour in which you can deal severely with my poor little efforts."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Thus it happened that, in the sweet spring weather, while Roderick was
+on the stand at Epsom, watching the City and Suburban winner pursue his
+meteor course along the close-cropped sward, Lord Mallow was sitting at
+ease in a flowery fauteuil in the Queen Anne morning-room at
+Kensington, sipping orange-scented tea out of eggshell porcelain, and
+listening to Lady Mabel's dulcet accents, as she somewhat monotonously
+and inexpressively rehearsed "The Tragedy of a Sceptic Soul."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The poem was long, and, sooth to say, passing dreary; and, much as he
+admired the Duke's daughter, there were moments when Lord Mallow felt
+his eyelids drooping, and heard a buzzing, as of summer insects, in his
+ears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was no point of interest in all this rhythmical meandering
+whereon the hapless young nobleman could fix his attention. Another
+minute and his sceptic soul would be wandering at ease in the flowery
+fields of sleep. He pulled himself together with an effort, just as the
+eggshell cup and saucer were slipping from his relaxing grasp. He asked
+the Duchess for another cup of that delicious tea. He gazed resolutely
+at the fair-faced maiden, whose rosy lips moved graciously, discoursing
+shallowest platitudes clothed in erudite polysyllables, and then at the
+first pause&mdash;when Lady Mabel laid down her velvet-bound volume, and
+looked timidly upward for his opinion&mdash;Lord Mallow poured forth a
+torrent of eloquence, such as he always had in stock, and praised "The
+Sceptic Soul" as no poem and no poet had ever been praised before, save
+by Hibernian critic.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The richness, the melody, the depth, colour, brilliance, tone, variety,
+far-reaching thought, &amp;c., &amp;c., &amp;c.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He was so grateful to Providence for having escaped falling asleep that
+he could have gone on for ever in this strain. But if anyone had asked
+Lord Mallow what "The Tragedy of a Sceptic Soul" was about, Lord Mallow
+would have been spun.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When a strong-minded woman is weak upon one particular point she is apt
+to be very weak. Lady Mabel's weakness was to fancy herself a second
+Browning. She had never yet enjoyed the bliss of having her own idea of
+herself confirmed by independent evidence. Her soul thrilled as Lord
+Mallow poured forth his praises; talking of "The Book and the Ring,"
+and "Paracelsus," and a great deal more, of which he knew very little,
+and seeing in the expression of Lady Mabel's eyes and mouth that he was
+saying exactly the right thing, and could hardly say too much.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They were <I>tête-à-tête</I> by this time, for the Duchess was sleeping
+frankly, her crewel-work drooping from the hands that lay idle in her
+lap; her second cup of tea on the table beside her, half-finished.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know how it is," she was wont to say apologetically, after
+these placid slumbers. "There is something in Mabel's voice that always
+sends me to sleep. Her tones are so musical."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And do you really advise me to publish?" asked Lady Mabel, fluttered
+and happy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would be a sin to keep such verses hidden from the world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They will be published anonymously, of course. I could not endure to
+be pointed at as the author of 'The Sceptic Soul.' To feel that every
+eye was upon me&mdash;at the opera&mdash;in the Row&mdash;everywhere! It would be too
+dreadful. I should be proud to know that I had influenced my age&mdash;given
+a new bent to thought&mdash;but no one must be able to point at me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Thou canst not say I did it,'" quoted Lord Mallow. "I entirely
+appreciate your feelings. Publicity of that sort must be revolting to a
+delicate mind. I should think Byron would have enjoyed life a great
+deal better if he had never been known as the author of 'Childe
+Harold.' He reduced himself to a social play-actor&mdash;and always had to
+pose in his particular rôle&mdash;the Noble Poet. If Bacon really wrote the
+plays we call Shakespeare's, and kept the secret all his life, he was
+indeed the wisest of mankind."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have done nothing but praise me," said Lady Mabel, after a
+thoughtful pause, during which she had trifled with the golden clasp of
+her volume; "I want you to do something more than that. I want you to
+advise&mdash;to tell me where I am redundant&mdash;to point out where I am weak.
+I want you to help me in the labour of polishing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lord Mallow pulled his whisker doubtfully. This was dreadful. He should
+have to go into particulars presently, to say what lines pleased him
+best, which of the various meters into which the tragedy was broken
+up&mdash;like a new suburb into squares and crescents and streets&mdash;seemed to
+him happiest and most original.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can you trust me with that precious volume?" he asked. "If you can, I
+will spend the quiet hours of the night in pondering over its pages,
+and will give you the result of my meditations to-morrow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mabel put the book into his hand with a grateful smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pray be frank with me," she pleaded. "Praise like yours is perilous."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lord Mallow kissed her hand this time, instead of merely pressing it,
+and went away radiant, with the velvet-bound book under his arm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She's a sweet girl," he said to himself, as he hailed a cab. "I wish
+she wasn't engaged to that Hampshire booby, and I wish she didn't write
+poetry. Hard that I should have to do the Hampshire booby's work! If I
+were to leave this book in a hansom now&mdash;there'd be an awful situation!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Happily for the rising statesman, he was blest with a clever young
+secretary, who wrote a good many letters for him, read blue-books, got
+up statistics, and interviewed obtrusive visitors from the Green Isle.
+To this young student Lord Mallow, in strictest secrecy, confided Lady
+Mabel's manuscript.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Read it carefully, Allan, while I'm at the house, and make a note of
+everything that's bad on one sheet of paper, and of everything that's
+good on another. You may just run your pencil along the margin wherever
+you think I might write 'divine!' 'grandly original!' 'what pathos!' or
+anything of that sort."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The secretary was a conscientious young man, and did his work nobly. He
+sat far into the small hours, ploughing through "The Sceptic Soul." It
+was tough work; but Mr. Allan was Scotch and dogged, and prided himself
+upon his critical faculty. This autopsy of a fine lady's poem was a
+congenial labour. He scribbled pages of criticism, went into the
+minutest details of style, found a great deal to blame and not much to
+praise, and gave his employer a complete digest of the poem before
+breakfast next morning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lord Mallow attended the Duchess's kettledrum again that afternoon, and
+this time he was in no wise at sea. He handled "The Sceptic Soul" as if
+every line of it had been engraven on the tablet of his mind.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"See here now," he cried, turning to a pencilled margin; "I call this a
+remarkable passage, yet I think it might be strengthened by some
+trifling excisions;" and then he showed Lady Mabel how, by pruning
+twenty lines off a passage of thirty-one, a much finer effect might be
+attained.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you really think my thought stands out more clearly?" asked Mabel,
+looking regretfully at the lines through which Lord Mallow had run his
+pencil&mdash;some of her finest lines.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sure of it. That grand idea of yours was like a star in a hazy
+sky. We have cleared away the fog."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Mabel sighed. "To me the meaning of the whole passage seemed so
+obvious," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because it was your own thought. A mother knows her own children
+however they are dressed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This second tea-drinking was a very serious affair. Lord Mallow went at
+the poem like a professional reviewer, and criticised without mercy,
+yet contrived not to wound the author's vanity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is because you have real genius that I venture to be brutally
+candid," he said, when, by those slap-dash pencil-marks of his&mdash;always
+with the author's consent&mdash;he had reduced the "Tragedy of the Sceptic
+Soul" to about one-third of its original length. "I was carried away
+yesterday by my first impressions; to-day I am coldly critical. I have
+set my heart upon your poem making a great success."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This last sentence, freely translated, might be taken to mean: "I
+should not like such an elegant young woman to make an utter fool of
+herself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Vawdrey came in while critic and poet were at work, and was told
+what they were doing. He evinced no unworthy jealousy, but seemed glad
+that Lord Mallow should be so useful.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's a very fine poem," he said, "but there's too much metaphysics in
+it. I told Mabel so the other day. She must alter a good deal of it if
+she wants to be understanded of the people."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear Roderick, my poem is metaphysical or it is nothing," Mabel
+answered pettishly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She could bear criticism from Lord Mallow better than criticism from
+Roderick. After this it became an established custom for Lord Mallow to
+drop in every day to inspect the progress of Lady Mabel's poems in the
+course of their preparation for the press. The business part of the
+matter had been delegated to him, as much more <I>au fait</I> in such things
+than homely rustic Rorie. He chose the publisher and arranged the size
+of the volume, type, binding, initials, tail-pieces, every detail. The
+paper was to be thick and creamy, the type mediaeval, the borders were
+to be printed in carmine, the initials and tail-pieces specially drawn
+and engraved, and as quaint as the wood-cuts in an old edition of "<I>Le
+Lutrin</I>." The book was to have red edges, and a smooth gray linen
+binding with silver lettering. It was to be altogether a gem of
+typographic art, worthy of Firmin Didot.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+By the end of May, Lady Mabel's poems were all in type, and there was
+much discussion about commas and notes of admiration, syllables too
+much or too little, in the flowery morning-room at Kensington, what
+time Roderick Vawdrey&mdash;sorely at a loss for occupation&mdash;wasted the
+summer hours at races or regattas within easy reach of London, or went
+to out-of-the-way places, to look at hunters of wonderful repute,
+which, on inspection, were generally disappointing.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap05"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER V.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+Crumpled Rose-Leaves.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Violet Tempest had been away from home nearly a year, and to the few
+old servants remaining at the Abbey House, and to the villagers who had
+known and loved her, it seemed as if a light had gone out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's like it was after the Squire's death, when miss and her ma was
+away," said one gossip to another; "the world seems empty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Winstanley and her husband had been living as became people of
+some pretension to rank and fashion. They saw very little of each
+other, but were seen together on all fitting occasions. The morning
+service in the little church at Beechdale would not have seemed
+complete without those two figures. The faded beauty in trailing silken
+draperies and diaphanous bonnet, the slim, well-dressed Captain, with
+his bronzed face and black whiskers. They were in everybody's idea the
+happiest example of married bliss. If the lady's languid loveliness had
+faded more within the last year or so than in the ten years that went
+before it, if her slow step had grown slower, her white hand more
+transparent, there were no keen loving eyes to mark the change.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That affectation of valetudinarianism is growing on Mrs. Winstanley,"
+Mrs. Scobel said one day to her husband. "It is a pity. I believe the
+Captain encourages it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She has not looked so well since Violet went away," answered the
+kindly parson. "It seems an unnatural thing for mother and daughter to
+be separated."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know that, dear. The Bible says a man should leave mother and
+father and cleave to his wife. Poor Violet was a discordant element in
+that household. Mrs. Winstanley must feel much happier now she is away."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't tell how she feels," answered the Vicar doubtfully; "but she
+does not look so happy as she did when Violet was at home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The fact is she gives way too much," exclaimed active little Mrs.
+Scobel, who had never given way in her life. "When she has a head-ache
+she lies in bed, and has the venetian blinds kept down, just as if she
+were dying. No wonder she looks pale and&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Etiolated," said the Vicar; "perishing for want of light. But I
+believe it's moral sunshine that is wanted there, my dear Fanny, say
+what you will."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Scobel was correct in his judgment. Pamela Winstanley was a most
+unhappy woman&mdash;an unhappy woman without one tangible cause of
+complaint. True that her daughter was banished; but she was banished
+with the mother's full consent. Her personal extravagances had been
+curtailed; but she was fain to admit that the curtailment was wise,
+necessary, and for her own future benefit. Her husband was all
+kindness; and surely she could not be angry with him if he seemed to
+grow younger every day&mdash;rejuvenated by regular habits and rustic
+life&mdash;while in her wan face the lines of care daily deepened, until it
+would have needed art far beyond the power of any modern Medea to
+conceal Time's ravages. Your modern Medeas are such poor
+creatures&mdash;loathsome as Horace's Canidia, but without her genius or her
+power.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am getting an old woman," sighed Mrs. Winstanley. "It is lucky I am
+not without resources against solitude and age."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her resources were a tepid appreciation of modern idyllic poetry, as
+exemplified in the weaker poems of Tennyson, and the works of Adelaide
+Proctor and Jean Ingelow, a talent for embroidering conventional
+foliage and flowers on kitchen towelling, and for the laborious
+conversion of Nottingham braid into Venetian point-lace.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She had taken it into her head of late to withdraw herself altogether
+from society, save from such friends who liked her well enough, or were
+sufficiently perplexed as to the disposal of their lives, to waste an
+occasional hour over gossip and orange pekoe. She had now permanently
+assumed that <I>rôle</I> of an invalid which she had always somewhat
+affected.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am really not well enough to go to dinner-parties, Conrad," she
+said, when her husband politely argued against her refusal of an
+invitation, with just that mild entreaty which too plainly means, "I
+don't care a jot whether you go with me or stay at home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, my dear Pamela, a little gaiety would give you a fillip."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, it would not, Conrad. It would worry me to go to Lady Ellangowan's
+in one of last season's dresses; and I quite agree with you that I must
+spend no more money with Theodore."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not wear your black velvet?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Too obvious a <I>pis aller</I>. I have not enough diamonds to carry off
+black velvet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But your fine old lace&mdash;rose-point, I think you call it&mdash;surely that
+would carry off black velvet for once in a way."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear Conrad, Lady Ellangowan knows my rose-point by heart. She
+always compliments me about it&mdash;an artful way of letting me know often
+she has seen it. 'Oh there is that rose-point of yours, dear Mrs.
+Winstanley; it is too lovely.' I know her! No, Conrad; I will not go to
+the Ellangowans in a dress made last year; or in any <I>réchauffé</I> of
+velvet and lace. I hope I have a proper pride that would always
+preserve me from humiliation of that kind. Besides, I am not strong
+enough to go to parties. You may not believe me, Conrad, but I am
+really ill."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Captain put on an unhappy look, and murmured something sympathetic:
+but he did not believe in the reality of his wife's ailments. She had
+played the invalid more or less ever since their marriage; and he had
+grown accustomed to the assumption as a part of his wife's daily
+existence&mdash;a mere idiosyncrasy, like her love of fine dress and strong
+tea. If at dinner she ate hardly enough for a bird, he concluded that
+she had spoiled her appetite at luncheon, or by the consumption of
+sweet biscuits and pound-cake at five o'clock. Her refusal of all
+invitations to dinners and garden-parties he attributed to her folly
+about dress, and to that alone. Those other reasons which she put
+forward&mdash;of weakness, languor, low spirits&mdash;were to Captain
+Winstanley's mind mere disguises for temper. She had not, in her heart
+of hearts, forgiven him for closing Madame Theodore's account.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Thus, wilfully blind to a truth which was soon to become obvious to all
+the world, he let the insidious foe steal across his threshold, and
+guessed not how soon that dark and hidden enemy was to drive him from
+the hearth by which he sat, secure in self-approval and sagacious
+schemes for the future.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Once a week, through all the long year, there had come a dutiful letter
+from Violet to her mother. The letters were often brief&mdash;what could the
+girl find to tell in her desert island?&mdash;but they were always kind, and
+they were a source of comfort to the mother's empty heart. Mrs.
+Winstanley answered unfailingly, and her Jersey letter was one of the
+chief events of each week. She was fonder of her daughter at a distance
+than she had ever been when they were together. "That will be something
+to tell Violet," she would say of any inane bit of gossip that was
+whispered across the afternoon tea-cups.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap06"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER VI.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+A Fool's Paradise.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+At Ashbourne preparations had already begun for the wedding in August.
+It was to be a wedding worthy of a duke's only daughter, the well-beloved
+and cherished child of an adoring father and mother. Kinsfolk and old
+friends were coming from far and wide to assist at the ceremony, for
+whom temporary rooms were to be arranged in all manner of places. The
+Duchess's exquisite dairy was to be transformed into a bachelor
+dormitory. Lodges and gamekeepers' cottages were utilised. Every nook
+and corner in the ducal mansion would be full.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not rig up a few hammocks in the nearest pine plantation?" Rorie
+asked, laughing, when he heard of all these doings. "One couldn't have
+a better place to sleep on a sultry summer night."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was to be a ball for the tenantry in the evening of the
+wedding-day, in a marquee on the lawn. The gardens were to be
+illuminated in a style worthy of the château of Vaux, when Fouquet was
+squandering a nation's revenues on lamps and fountains and venal
+friends. Lady Mabel protested against all this fuss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear mamma, I would so much rather have been married quietly,' she
+said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dearest, it is all your papa's doing. He is so proud of you. And
+then we have only one daughter; and she is not likely to be married
+more than once, I hope. Why should we not have all our friends round us
+at such a time?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mabel shrugged her shoulders, with an air of repugnance to all the
+friends and all the fuss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Marriage is such a solemn act of one's life," she said. "It seems
+dreadful that it should be performed in the midst of a gaping,
+indifferent crowd."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My love, there will not be a creature present who can feel indifferent
+about your welfare," protested the devoted mother. "If our dear
+Roderick had been a more distinguished person, your papa would have had
+you married in Westminster Abbey. There of course there would have been
+a crowd of idle spectators."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor Roderick," sighed Mabel. "It is a pity he is so utterly aimless.
+He might have made a career for himself by this time, if he had chosen."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He will do something by-and-by, I daresay," said the Duchess,
+excusingly. "You will be able to mould him as you like, pet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have not found him particularly malleable hitherto," said Mabel.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The bride elect was out of spirits, and inclined to look despondently
+upon life. She was suffering the bitter pain of disappointed hopes.
+"The Tragedy of a Sceptic Soul," despite its depth of thought, its
+exquisite typography and vellum-like paper, had been a dire and
+irredeemable failure. The reviewers had ground the poor little
+aristocratic butterfly to powder upon the wheel of ridicule. They had
+anatomised Lady Mabel's involved sentences, and laughed at her erudite
+phrases. Her mild adaptations of Greek thought and fancy had been found
+out, and held up to contempt. Her petty plagiarisms from French and
+German poets had been traced to their source. The whole work, so smooth
+and neatly polished on the outside, had been turned the seamy side
+without, and the knots and flaws and ravelled threads had been exposed
+without pity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Happily the book was anonymous: but Mabel writhed under the criticism.
+There was the crushing disappointment of expectations that had soared
+high as the topmost throne on Parnassus. She had a long way to descend.
+And then there was the sickening certainty that in the eyes of her own
+small circle she had made herself ridiculous. Her mother took those
+cruel reviews to heart, and wept over them. The Duke, a coarse-minded
+man, at best, with a soul hardly above guano and chemical composts,
+laughed aloud at his poor little girl's failure.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's a sad disappointment, I daresay," he said, "but never mind, my
+pet, you'll do better next time, I've no doubt. Or if you don't, it
+doesn't much matter. Other people have fancied themselves poets, and
+have been deceived, before to-day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Those horrid reviewers don't understand her poetry," protested the
+Duchess, who would have been hard pushed to comprehend it herself, but
+who thought it was a critic's business to understand everything.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid I have written above their heads," Lady Mabel said
+piteously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Roderick Vawdrey was worst of all.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Didn't I tell you 'The Sceptic Soul' was too fine for ordinary
+intellects, Mab?" he said. "You lost yourself in an ocean of obscurity.
+You knew what you meant, but there's no man alive who could follow you.
+You ought to have remembered Voltaire's definition of a metaphysical
+discussion, a conversation in which the man who is talked to doesn't
+understand the man who talks, and the man who talks doesn't understand
+himself. You must take a simpler subject and use plainer English if you
+want to please the multitude."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mabel had told her lover before that she did not aspire to please the
+multitude, that she would have esteemed such cheap and tawdry success a
+humiliating failure. It was almost better not to be read at all than to
+be appreciated only by the average Mudie subscriber. But she would have
+liked someone to read her poems. She would have liked critics to praise
+and understand her. She would have liked to have her own small world of
+admirers, an esoteric few, the salt of the earth, literary Essenes,
+holding themselves apart from the vulgar herd. It was dreadful to find
+herself on a height as lonely as one of those plateaux in the Tyrolean
+Alps where the cattle crop a scanty herbage in summer, and where the
+Ice King reigns alone through the long winter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are mistaken, Roderick," Mabel said with chilling dignity; "I have
+friends who can understand and admire my poetry, incomprehensible and
+uninteresting as it may be to you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear Mabel, I never said it was uninteresting," Roderick cried humbly;
+"everything you do must be interesting to me. But I frankly own I do
+not understand your verses as clearly as I think all verse should be
+understood. Why should I keep all my frankness till after the first of
+August? Why should the lover be less sincere than the husband? I will
+be truthful even at the risk of offending you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pray do," cried Mabel, with ill-suppressed irritation. "Sincerity is
+such a delightful thing. No doubt my critics are sincere. They give me
+the honest undisguised truth."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Rorie saw that his betrothed's literary failure was a subject to be
+carefully avoided in future.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My poor Vixen," he said to himself, with oh! what deep regret,
+"perhaps it was not one of the least of your charms that you never
+wrote poetry."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lord Mallow was coming to Ashbourne for the fortnight before the
+wedding. He had made himself wondrously agreeable to the Duke, and the
+Duke had invited him. The House would be up by that time. It was a
+delightful season for the Forest. The heather would be in bloom on all
+the open heights, the glades of Mark Ash would be a solemn world of
+greenery and shadow, a delicious place for picnics, flirtation, and
+gipsy tea-drinkings. Lord Mallow had only seen the Forest in the
+winter. It would be a grand opportunity for him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He came, and Lady Mabel received him with a sad sweet smile. The
+reviews had all appeared by this time: and, except in the <I>West
+Dulmarsh Gazette</I> and the <I>Ratdiff Highway Register</I>, there had not
+been one favourable notice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is a dreadful unanimity about my critics, is there not?" said
+the stricken poetess, when she and Lord Mallow found themselves alone
+together in one of the orchid-houses, breathing a perfumed atmosphere
+at eighty degrees, vaporous, balmy, slumberous.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have made a tremendous mistake, Lady Mabel," said Lord Mallow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do you mean?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have given the world your great book without first educating your
+public to receive and understand it. If Browning had done the same
+thing&mdash;if Browning had burst at once upon the world with 'The Ring and
+the Book' he would have been as great a failure as&mdash;as&mdash;you at present
+imagine yourself to be. You should have sent forth something smaller.
+You should have made the reading world familiar with a style, too
+original, and of too large a power and scope, to please quickly. A
+volume of ballads and idyls&mdash;a short story in simple verse&mdash;would have
+prepared the way for your dramatic poem. Suppose Goethe had begun his
+literary career with the second part of 'Faust'! He was too wise for
+that, and wrote himself into popularity with a claptrap novel."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I could not write a claptrap novel, or claptrap verses," sighed Lady
+Mabel. "If I cannot soar above the clouds, I will never spread my poor
+little wings again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you must be content to accept your failure as an evidence of the
+tendencies of an essentially Philistine age&mdash;an age in which people
+admire Brown, and Jones, and Robinson."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Here Lord Mallow gave a string of names, sacrificing the most famous
+reputations of the age to Mabel Ashbourne's vanity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This brief conversation in the orchid-house was the first healing balm
+that had been applied to the bleeding heart of the poetess. She was
+deeply grateful to Lord Mallow. This was indeed sympathy. How different
+from Roderick's clumsy advice and obtrusive affectation of candour.
+Mabel determined that she would do her best to make Lord Mallow's visit
+pleasant. She gave him a good deal of her society, in fact all she
+could spare from Roderick, who was not an exacting lover. They were so
+soon to be married that really there was no occasion for them to be
+greedy of <I>tête-à-tête</I> companionship. They would have enough of each
+other's company among the Norwegian fjords.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lord Mallow did not care about riding under an almost tropical sun, nor
+did he care to expose his horse to the exasperating attacks of
+forest-flies; so he went about with the Duchess and her daughter in
+Lady Mabel's pony carriage&mdash;he saw schools and cottages&mdash;and told the
+two ladies all the grand things he meant to do on his Irish estate when
+he had leisure to do them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You must wait till you are married," said the Duchess good-naturedly.
+"Ladies understand these details so much better than gentlemen. Mabel
+more than half planned those cottages you admired just now. She took
+the drawings out of the architect's hands, and altered them according
+to her own taste."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And as a natural result, the cottages are perfection!" exclaimed Lord
+Mallow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+That visit to Ashbourne was one of the most memorable periods in Lord
+Mallow's life. He was an impressible young man, and he had been
+unconsciously falling deeper in love with Lady Mabel every day during
+the last three months. Her delicate beauty, her culture, her elegance,
+her rank, all charmed and fascinated him; but her sympathy with Erin
+was irresistible. It was not the first time that he had been in love,
+by a great many times. The list of the idols he had worshipped
+stretched backwards to the dim remoteness of boyhood. But to-day,
+awakening all at once to a keen perception of his hapless state, he
+told himself that he had never loved before as he loved now.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He had been hard hit by Miss Tempest. Yes, he acknowledged that past
+weakness. He had thought her fairest and most delightful among women,
+and he had left the Abbey House dejected and undone. But he had quickly
+recovered from the brief fever: and now, reverentially admiring Lady
+Mabel's prim propriety, he wondered that he could have ever seriously
+offered himself to a girl of Vixen's undisciplined and unbroken
+character.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should have been a miserable man by this time if she had accepted
+me," he thought. "She did not care a straw about the People of Ireland."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He was deeply, hopelessly, irrecoverably in love; and the lady he loved
+was to be married to another man in less than a week. The situation was
+too awful. What could such a woman as Mabel Ashbourne see in such a man
+as Roderick Vawdrey. That is a kind of question which has been asked
+very often in the history of men and women. Lord Mallow could find no
+satisfactory answer thereto. Mr. Vawdrey was well enough in his way&mdash;he
+was good-looking, sufficiently well-bred; he rode well, was a
+first-rate shot, and could give an average player odds at billiards.
+Surely these were small claims to the love of a tenth muse, a rarely
+accomplished and perfect woman. If Lord Mallow, in his heart of hearts,
+thought no great things of Lady Mabel's poetic effusions, he not the
+less respected her for the effort, the high-souled endeavour. A woman
+who could read Euripides, who knew all that was best in modern
+literature, was a woman for a husband to be proud of.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In this desperate and for the most part unsuspected condition of mind,
+Lord Mallow hung upon Lady Mabel's footsteps during the days
+immediately before the wedding. Roderick was superintending the
+alterations at Briarwood, which were being carried on upon rather an
+extravagant scale, to make the mansion worthy of the bride. Lord Mallow
+was always at hand, in the orchid-houses, carrying scissors and
+adjusting the hose, in the library, in the gardens, in the boudoir. He
+was drinking greedily of the sweet poison. This fool's paradise of a
+few days must end in darkness, desolation, despair&mdash;everything dreadful
+beginning with <I>d;</I> but the paradise was so delicious an abode that
+although an angel with a flaming sword, in the shape of conscience, was
+always standing at the gate, Lord Mallow would not be thrust out. He
+remained; in defiance of conscience, and honour, and all those good
+sentiments that should have counselled his speedy departure.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap07"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER VII.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+"It might have been."
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+"They are the most curious pair of lovers I ever saw in my life," said
+one of the visitors at Ashbourne, a young lady who had been engaged to
+be married more than once, and might fairly consider herself an
+authority upon such matters. "One never sees them together."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They are cousins," replied her companion. "What can you expect from a
+courtship between cousins? It must be the most humdrum affair possible."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All courtships are humdrum, unless there is opposition from parents,
+or something out of the common order to enliven them," said somebody
+else.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The speakers were a party of young ladies, who were getting through an
+idle hour after breakfast in the billiard-room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lady Mabel is just the sort of girl no man could be desperately in
+love with," said another. "She is very pretty, and elegant, and
+accomplished, and all that sort of thing&mdash;but she is so overpoweringly
+well satisfied with herself that it seems superfluous for anyone to
+admire her.'
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In spite of that I know of someone in this house who does immensely
+admire her," asserted the young lady who had spoken first. "Much more
+than I should approve if I were Mr. Vawdrey."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think I know&mdash;&mdash;" began somebody, and then abruptly remarked: "What
+a too ridiculous stroke! And I really thought I was going to make a
+cannon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This sudden change in the current of the talk was due to the appearance
+of the subject of this friendly disquisition. Lady Mabel had that
+moment entered, followed by Lord Mallow, not intent on billiards, like
+the frivolous damsels assembled round the table. There were book-cases
+all along one side of the billiard-room, containing the surplus books
+that had overrun the shelves in the library; and Mabel had come to look
+for a particular volume among these. It was a treatise upon the
+antiquities of Ireland. Lord Mallow and Lady Mabel had been disputing
+about the Round Towers.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course you are right," said the Irishman, when she had triumphantly
+exhibited a page which supported her side of the argument. "What a
+wonderful memory you have! What a wife you would make for a statesman!
+You would be worth half-a-dozen secretaries!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mabel blushed, and smiled faintly, with lowered eyelids.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you remember that concluding picture in 'My Novel,'" she asked,
+"where Violante tempts Harley Lestrange from his idle musing over
+Horace, to toil through blue-books; and, when she is stealing softly
+from the room, he detains her and bids her copy an extract for him? 'Do
+you think I would go through this labour,' he says, 'if you were not to
+halve this success? Halve the labour as well.' I have always envied
+Violante that moment in her life."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And who would not envy Harley such a wife as Violante," returned Lord
+Mallow, "if she was like&mdash;the woman I picture her?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Three hours later Lord Mallow and Lady Mabel met by accident in the
+garden. It was an afternoon of breathless heat and golden sunlight, the
+blue ether without a cloud&mdash;a day on which the most restless spirit
+might be content to yield to the drowsiness of the atmosphere, and lie
+at ease upon the sunburnt grass and bask in the glory of summer. Lord
+Mallow had never felt so idle, in the whole course of his vigorous
+young life.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know what has come to me," he said to himself; "I can't settle
+to any kind of work; and I don't care a straw for sight-seeing with a
+pack of nonentities."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A party had gone off in a drag, soon after breakfast, to see some
+distant ruins; and Lord Mallow had refused to be of that party, though
+it included some of the prettiest girls at Ashbourne. He had stayed at
+home, on pretence of writing important letters, but had not, so far,
+penned a line. "It must be the weather," said Lord Mallow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+An hour or so after luncheon he strolled out into the gardens, having
+given up all idea of writing those letters, There was a wide lawn, that
+sloped from the terrace in front of the drawing-room windows, a lawn
+encircled by a belt of carefully-chosen timber. It was not very old
+timber, but it was sufficiently umbrageous. There were tulip-trees, and
+copper-beeches, and Douglas pines, and deodoras. There were shrubs of
+every kind, and winding paths under the trees, and rustic benches here
+and there to repose the wearied traveller.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On one of these benches, placed in a delicious spot, shaded by a group
+of pines, commanding the wide view of valley and distant hill far away
+towards Ringwood, Lord Mallow found Lady Mabel seated reading. She was
+looking delightfully cool amidst the sultry heat of the scene,
+perfectly dressed in soft white muslin, with much adornment of delicate
+lace and pale-hued ribbon: but she was not looking happy. She was
+gazing at the open volume on her knee, with fixed and dreamy eyes that
+saw not the page; and as Lord Mallow came very near, with steps that
+made no sound on the fallen pine-needles, he saw that there were tears
+upon her drooping eyelids.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There are moments in every man's life when impulse is stronger than
+discretion. Lord Mallow gave the reins to impulse now, and seated
+himself by Lady Mabel's side, and took her hand in his, with an air of
+sympathy so real that the lady forgot to be offended.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Forgive me for having surprised your tears," he murmured gently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am very foolish," she said, blushing deeply as she became aware of
+the hand clasping hers, and suddenly withdrawing her own; "but there
+are passages of Dante that are too pathetic."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, it was Dante!" exclaimed Lord Mallow, with a disappointed air.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He looked down at the page on her lap.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, naturally."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She had been reading about Paolo and Francesca&mdash;that one episode, in
+all the catalogue of sin and sorrow, which melts every heart; a page at
+which the volume seems to open of its own accord.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lord Mallow leaned down and read the lines in a low voice, slowly, with
+considerable feeling; and then he looked softly up at Mabel Ashbourne,
+and at the landscape lying below them, in all the glow and glory of the
+summer light, and looked back to the lady, with his hand still on the
+book.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The strangeness of the situation: they two alone in the garden, unseen,
+unheard by human eye or ear; the open book between them&mdash;a subtle bond
+of union&mdash;hinting at forbidden passion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They were deeply to be pitied," said Lord Mallow, meaning the guilty
+lovers.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was very sad," murmured Lady Mabel.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But they were neither the first nor the last who have found out too
+late that they were created to be happy in each other's love, and had
+by an accident missed that supreme chance of happiness," said Lord
+Mallow, with veiled intention.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mabel sighed, and took the book from the gentleman's hand, and drew a
+little farther off on the bench. She was not the kind of young woman to
+yield tremblingly to the first whisper of an unauthorised love. It was
+all very well to admire Francesca, upon strictly aesthetic grounds, as
+the perfection of erring womanhood, beautiful even in her guilt.
+Francesca had lived so long ago&mdash;in days so entirely mediaeval, that
+one could afford to regard her with indulgent pity. But it was not to
+be supposed that a modern duke's daughter was going to follow that
+unfortunate young woman's example, and break plighted vows. Betrothal,
+in the eyes of so exalted a moralist as Lady Mabel, was a tie but one
+degree less sacred than marriage.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why did you not go to see the ruins?" she asked, resuming her society
+tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because I was in a humour in which ruins would have been unutterably
+odious. Indeed, Lady Mabel, I am just now very much of Macbeth's
+temper, when he began to be a-weary of the sun."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Has the result of the session disappointed you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Naturally. When was that ever otherwise? Parliament opens full of
+promise, like a young king who has just ascended the throne, and
+everybody is to be made happy; all burdens are to be lightened, the
+seeds of all good things that have been hidden deep in earth through
+the slow centuries are to germinate all at once, and blossom, and bear
+fruit. And the session comes to an end; and, lo! a great many good
+things have been talked about, and no good thing has been done. That is
+in the nature of things. No, Lady Mabel, it is not that which makes me
+unhappy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He waited for her to ask him what his trouble was, but she kept silence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," he repeated, "it is not that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again there was no reply; and he went on awkwardly, like an actor who
+has missed his cue.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Since I have known you I have been at once too happy and too wretched.
+Happy&mdash;unspeakably happy in your society; miserable in the knowledge
+that I could never be more to you than an unit in the crowd."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You were a great deal more to me than that," said Mabel softly. She
+bad been on her guard against him just now, but when he thus abased
+himself before her she took pity upon him, and became dangerously
+amiable. "I shall never forget your kindness about those wretched
+verses."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will not hear you speak ill of them," cried Lord Mallow indignantly.
+"You have but shared the common fate of genius, in having a mind in
+advance of your age."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Mabel breathed a gentle sigh of resignation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not so weak as to think myself a genius," she murmured; "but I
+venture to hope my poor verses will be better understood twenty years
+hence than they are now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Undoubtedly!" cried Lord Mallow, with conviction. "Look at Wordsworth;
+in his lifetime the general reading public considered him a prosy old
+gentleman, who twaddled pleasantly about lakes and mountains, and
+pretty little peasant girls. The world only awakened ten years ago to
+the fact of his being a great poet and a sublime philosopher; and I
+shouldn't be very much surprised," added Lord Mallow meditatively, "if
+in ten years more the world were to go to sleep again and forget him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Mabel looked at her watch.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think I will go in and give mamma her afternoon cup of tea," she
+said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't go yet," pleaded Lord Mallow, "it is only four, and I know the
+Duchess does not take tea till five. Give me one of your last hours. A
+lady who is just going to be married is something like Socrates after
+his sentence. Her friends surround her; she is in their midst, smiling,
+serene, diffusing sweetness and light; but they know she is going from
+them&mdash;they are to lose her, yes, to lose her almost as utterly as if
+she were doomed to die."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is taking a very dismal view of marriage," said Mabel, pale, and
+trifling nervously with her watch-chain.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This was the first time Lord Mallow had spoken to her of the
+approaching event.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it not like death? Does it not bring change and parting to old
+friends? When you are Lady Mabel Vawdrey, can I ever be with you as I
+am now? You will have new interests, you will be shut in by a network
+of new ties. I shall come some morning to see you amidst your new
+surroundings, and shall find a stranger. My Lady Mabel will be dead and
+buried."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There is no knowing how long Lord Mallow might have meandered on in
+this dismal strain, if he had not been seasonably interrupted by the
+arrival of Mr. Vawdrey, who came sauntering along the winding
+shrubbery-walk, with his favourite pointer Hecate at his heels. He
+advanced towards his betrothed at the leisurely pace of a man whose
+courtship is over, whose fate is sealed, and from whom society exacts
+nothing further, except a decent compliance with the arrangements other
+people make for him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He seemed in no wise disconcerted at finding his sweetheart and Lord
+Mallow seated side by side, alone, in that romantic and solitary spot.
+He pressed Mabel's hand kindly, and gave the Irishman a friendly nod.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What have you been doing with yourself all the morning, Roderick?"
+asked Lady Mabel, with that half-reproachful air which is almost the
+normal expression of a betrothed young lady in her converse with her
+lover.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, pottering about at Briarwood. The workmen are such fools. I am
+making some slight alterations in the stables, on a plan of my
+own&mdash;putting in mangers, and racks, and pillars, and partitions, from
+the St. Pancras Ironworks, making sanitary improvements and so on&mdash;and
+I have to contend with so much idiocy in our local workmen. If I did
+not stand by and see drain-pipes put in and connections made, I believe
+the whole thing would go wrong."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It must be very dreadful for you," exclaimed Lady Mabel.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It must be intolerable!" cried Lord Mallow; "what, when the moments
+are golden, when 'Love takes up the glass of Time, and turns it in his
+glowing hands,' when 'Love takes up the harp of life, and smites on all
+the chords with might,' you have to devote your morning to watching the
+laying of drain-pipes and digging of sewers! I cannot imagine a more
+afflicted man."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Mabel saw the sneer, but her betrothed calmly ignored it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course it's a nuisance," he said carelessly; "but I had rather be
+my own clerk of the works than have the whole thing botched. I thought
+you were going to Wellbrook Abbey with the house party, Mabel?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know every stone of the Abbey by heart. No, I have been dawdling
+about the grounds all the afternoon. It is much too warm for riding or
+driving."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Mabel strangled an incipient yawn. She had not yawned once in all
+her talk with Lord Mallow. Rorie stifled another, and Lord Mallow
+walked up and down among the pine-needles, like a caged lion. It would
+have been polite to leave the lovers to themselves, perhaps. They might
+have family matters to discuss, settlements, wedding presents, Heaven
+knows what. But Lord Mallow was not going to leave them alone. He was
+in a savage humour, in which the petty rules and regulations of a
+traditionary etiquette were as nothing to him. So he stayed, pacing
+restlessly, with his hands in his pockets, and inwardly delighted at
+the stupid spectacle presented by the affianced lovers, who had nothing
+to say to each other, and were evidently bored to the last degree by
+their own society.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is the deplorable result of trying to ferment the small beer of
+cousinly affection into the Maronean wine of passionate love," thought
+Lord Mallow. "Idiotic parents have imagined that these two people ought
+to marry, because they were brought up together, and the little girl
+took kindly to the little boy. What little girl does not take kindly to
+anything in the shape of a boy, when they are both in the nursery?
+Hence these tears."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am going to pour out mamma's tea," Lady Mabel said presently, keenly
+sensible of the stupidity of her position. "Will you come, Roderick?
+Mamma will be glad to know that you are alive. She was wondering about
+you all the time we were at luncheon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I ought not to have been off duty so long," Mr. Vawdrey answered
+meekly; "but if you could only imagine the stupidity of those
+bricklayers! The day before yesterday I found half-a-dozen stalwart
+fellows sitting upon a wall, with their hands in their corduroy
+pockets, smoking short pipes, and, I believe, talking politics. They
+pretended to be at a standstill because their satellites&mdash;their <I>âmes
+damnées</I>, the men who hold their hods and mix their mortar&mdash;had not
+turned up. 'Don't disturb yourselves, gentlemen,' I said. 'There's
+nothing like taking things easy. It's a time-job. I'll send you the
+morning papers and a can of beer.' And so I did, and since that day, do
+you know, the fellows have worked twice as hard. They don't mind being
+bullied; but they can't stand chaff."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What an interesting bit of character," said Lady Mabel, with a faintly
+perceptible sneer. "Worthy of Henri Constant."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"May I come to the Duchess's kettledrum?' asked Lord Mallow humbly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By all means," answered Mabel. "How fond you gentlemen pretend to be
+of afternoon tea, nowadays. But I don't believe it is the tea you
+really care for. It is the gossip you all like. Darwin has found out
+that the male sex is the vain sex: but I don't think he has gone so far
+as to discover another great truth. It is the superior sex for whom
+scandal has the keenest charm."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have never heard the faintest hiss of the serpent slander at the
+Duchess's tea-table," said Lord Mallow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; we are dreadfully behind the age," assented Lady Mabel. "We
+continue to exist without thinking ill of our neighbours."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They all three sauntered towards the house, choosing the sheltered
+ways, and skirting the broad sunny lawn, whose velvet sward, green even
+in this tropical July, was the result of the latest improvements in
+cultivation, ranging from such simple stimulants as bone-dust and
+wood-ashes to the last development of agricultural chemistry. Lady
+Mabel and her companions were for the most part silent during this
+leisurely walk home, and, when one of them hazarded an observation, the
+attempt at conversation had a forced air, and failed to call forth any
+responsive brilliancy in the others.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Duchess looked provokingly cool and comfortable in her
+morning-room, which was an airy apartment on the first-floor, with a
+wide window opening upon a rustic balcony, verandahed and trellised,
+garlanded with passion-flowers and Australian clematis, and altogether
+sheltered from sun and wind. The most reposeful sofas, the roomiest
+arm-chairs in all the house were to be found here, covered with a cool
+shining chintz of the good old-fashioned sort, apple-blossoms and
+spring-flowers on a white ground.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A second window in a corner opened into a small fernery, in which there
+was a miniature water-fall that trickled with a slumberous sound over
+moss-grown rockwork. There could hardly have been a better room for
+afternoon tea on a sultry summer day; and afternoon tea at Ashbourne
+included iced coffee, and the finest peaches and nectarines that were
+grown in the county; and when the Duke happened to drop in for a chat
+with his wife and daughter, sometimes went as far as sherry and
+Angustura bitters.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Duchess received her daughter with her usual delighted air, as if
+the ethereal-looking young lady in India muslin had verily been a
+goddess.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope you have not been fatiguing yourself in the orchid-houses on
+such an afternoon as this, my pet," she said anxiously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, indeed, mamma; it is much too warm for the orchid-houses. I have
+been in the shrubbery reading, or trying to read, but it is dreadful
+sleepy weather. We shall all be glad to get some tea. Oh, here it
+comes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A match pair of footmen brought a pair of silver trays: caddy, kettle,
+and teapot, and cups and saucers on one; and a lavish pile of fruit,
+such as Lance would have loved to paint, on the other.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Mabel took up the quaint little silver caddy and made the tea.
+Roderick began to eat peaches. Lord Mallow, true to his nationality,
+seated himself by the Duchess, and paid her a compliment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There are some more parcels for you, Mabel," said the fond mother
+presently, glancing at a side-table, where sundry neatly-papered
+packets suggested jewellery.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"More presents, I suppose," the young lady murmured languidly. "Now I
+do hope people have not sent me any more jewellery. I wear so little,
+and I&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Have so much, she was going to say, but checked herself on the verge of
+a remark that savoured of vulgar arrogance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She went on with the tea-making, uncurious as to the inside of those
+dainty-looking parcels. She had been surfeited with presents before she
+left her nursery. A bracelet or a locket more or less could not make
+the slightest difference in her feelings. She entertained a
+condescending pity for the foolish people who squandered their money in
+buying her such things, when they ought to know that she had a
+superfluity of much finer jewels than any they could give her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you want to see your presents?" asked Rorie, looking at her, in
+half-stupid wonder at such calm superiority.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They will keep till we have done tea. I can guess pretty well what
+they are like. How many church-services have people sent me, mamma?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think the last made fourteen," murmured the Duchess, trifling with
+her tea-spoon.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And how many 'Christian Years'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And how many copies of Doré's 'Idylls of the King'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One came this morning from Mrs. Scobel. I think it was the fifth."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How many lockets inscribed with A. E. I. or 'Mizpah'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My darling, I could not possibly count those. There were three more by
+post this morning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You see there is rather a sameness in these things," said Lady Mabel;
+"and you can understand why I am not rabidly curious about the contents
+of these parcels. I feel sure there will be another 'Mizpah' among
+them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She had received Lord Mallow's tribute, an Irish jaunting-car, built
+upon the newest lines, and altogether a most perfect vehicle for
+driving to a meet in, so light and perfectly balanced as to travel
+safely through the ruttiest glade in Mark Ash.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Rorie's gifts had all been given, so Lady Mabel could afford to make
+light of the unopened parcels without fear of wounding the feelings of
+anyone present.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They were opened by-and-by, when the Duke came in from his farm, sorely
+disturbed in his mind at the serious indisposition of a
+six-hundred-guinea cart-horse, which hapless prize animal had been
+fatted to such an inflammatory condition that in his case the commonest
+ailment might prove deadly. Depressed by this calamity, the Duke
+required to be propped up with sherry and Angustura bitters, which
+tonic mixture was presently brought to him by one of the match footmen,
+who looked very much as if he were suffering from the same plethoric
+state that was likely to prove fatal to the cart-horse. Happily, the
+footman's death would be but a temporary inconvenience. The Duke had
+not given six hundred guineas for him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Mabel opened her parcels, in the hope of distracting her father
+from the contemplation of his trouble.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"From whom can this be?" she asked wonderingly, "with the Jersey
+post-mark? Do I know anyone in Jersey?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Roderick grew suddenly crimson, and became deeply absorbed in the
+business of peeling a nectarine.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I surely cannot know anyone in Jersey," said Lady Mabel, in languid
+wonderment. "It is an altogether impossible place. Nobody in society
+goes there. It sounds almost as disreputable as Boulogne."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You'd better open the packet," said Rorie, with a quiver in his voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps it is from some of your friends," speculated Mabel.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She broke the seal, and tore the cover off a small morocco case.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What a lovely pair of earrings!" she exclaimed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Each eardrop was a single turquoise, almost as large, and quite as
+clear in colour, as a hedge-sparrow's egg. The setting was Roman,
+exquisitely artistic.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now I can forgive anyone for sending me such jewellery as that," said
+Lady Mabel. "It is not the sort of thing one sees in every jeweller's
+shop."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Rorie looked at the blue stones with rueful eyes. He knew them well. He
+had seen them contrasted with ruddy chestnut hair, and the whitest skin
+in Christendom&mdash;or at any rate the whitest he had ever seen, and a
+man's world can be but the world he knows.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is a letter," said Lady Mabel. "Now I shall find out all about
+my mysterious Jersey friend."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She read the letter aloud.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="letter">
+"Les Tourelles, Jersey, July 25th.
+<BR><BR>
+"Dear Lady Mabel,&mdash;I cannot bear that your wedding-day should go by
+without bringing you some small token of regard from your husband's old
+friend. Will you wear these earrings now and then, and believe that
+they come from one who has nothing but good wishes for Rorie's
+wife?&mdash;Yours very truly,
+<BR><BR>
+"VIOLET TEMPEST."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"Why, they are actually from your old playfellow!" cried Mabel, with a
+laugh that had not quite a genuine ring in its mirth. "The young lady
+who used to follow the staghounds, in a green habit with brass buttons,
+ever so many years ago, and who insisted on calling you Rorie. She does
+it still, you see. How very sweet of her to send me a wedding-present.
+I ought to have remembered. I heard something about her being sent off
+to Jersey by her people, because she had grown rather incorrigible at
+home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She was not incorrigible, and she was not sent off to Jersey," said
+Roderick grimly. "She left home of her own free will; because she could
+not hit it with her stepfather."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is another way of expressing it, but I think we both mean pretty
+much the same thing," retorted Mabel. "But I don't want to know why she
+went to Jersey. She has behaved very sweetly in sending me such a
+pretty letter; and when she is at home again I shall be very happy to
+see her at my garden-parties."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lord Mallow had no share in this conversation, for the Duke had
+buttonholed him, and was giving him a detailed account of the
+cart-horse's symptoms.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The little party dispersed soon after this, and did not foregather
+again until just before dinner, when the people who had been to see the
+ruins were all assembled, full of their day's enjoyment, and of sundry
+conversational encounters which they had had with the natives of the
+district. They gave themselves the usual airs which people who have
+been laboriously amusing themselves inflict upon those wiser
+individuals who prefer the passive pleasure of repose, and made a merit
+of having exposed themselves to the meridian sun, in the pursuit of
+archaeological knowledge.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Mabel looked pale and weary all that evening. Roderick was so
+evidently distrait that the good-natured Duke thought that he must be
+worrying himself about the cart-horse, and begged him to make his mind
+easy, as it was possible the animal might even yet recover.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Later on in the evening Lady Mabel and Lord Mallow sat in the
+conservatory and talked Irish politics, while Rorie and the younger
+members of the house party played Nap. The conservatory was deliciously
+cool on this summer evening, dimly lighted by lamps that were half
+hidden among the palms and orange-trees. Lady Mabel and her companion
+could see the stars shining through the open doorway, and the mystical
+darkness of remote woods. Their voices were hushed; there were pauses
+of silence in their talk. Never had the stirring question of Home Rule
+been more interesting.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Mabel did not go back to the drawing-room that evening. There was
+a door leading from the conservatory to the hall; and, while Rorie and
+the young people were still somewhat noisily engaged in the game of
+Napoleon, Lady Mabel went out to the hall with Lord Mallow in
+attendance upon her. When he had taken her candle from the table and
+lighted it, he paused for a moment or so before he handed it to her,
+looking at her very earnestly all the while, as she stood at the foot
+of the staircase, with saddened face and downcast eyes, gravely
+contemplative of the stair-carpet.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it&mdash;positively&mdash;too late?" he asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You must feel and know that it is so," she answered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But it might have been?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," she murmured with a faint sigh, "it might have been."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He gave her the candlestick, and she went slowly upstairs, without a
+word of good-night. He stood in the hall, watching the slim figure as
+it ascended, aerial and elegant in its palely-tinted drapery.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It might have been," he repeated to himself: and then he lighted his
+candle and went slowly up the staircase. He was in no humour for
+billiards, cigars, or noisy masculine talk to-night. Still less was he
+inclined to be at ease and to make merry with Roderick Vawdrey.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap08"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER VIII.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+Wedding Bells.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Vixen had been more than a year in the island of Jersey. She had lived
+her lonely and monotonous existence, and made no moan. It was a dreary
+exile; but it seemed to her that there was little else for her to do in
+life but dawdle through the long slow days, and bear the burden of
+living; at least until she came of age, and was independent, and could
+go where she pleased. Then there would be the wide world for her to
+wander over, instead of this sea-girdled garden of Jersey. She had
+reasons of her own for so quietly submitting to this joyless life. Mrs.
+Winstanley kept her informed of all that was doing in Hampshire, and
+even at the Queen Anne house at Kensington. She knew that Roderick
+Vawdrey's wedding-day was fixed for the first of August. Was it not
+better that she should be far away, hidden from her small world; while
+those marriage bells were ringing across the darkening beech-woods?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her sacrifice had not been in vain. Her lover had speedily forgotten
+that brief madness of last midsummer, and had returned to his
+allegiance. There had been no cloud upon the loves of the plighted
+cousins&mdash;no passing gust of dissension. If there had been, Mrs.
+Winstanley would have known all about it. Her letters told only of
+harmonious feeling and perpetual sunshine.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="letter">
+"Lady Mabel is looking prettier than ever," she wrote, in the last week
+of July, "that ethereal loveliness which I so much admire. Her waist
+cannot be more than eighteen inches. I cannot find out who makes her
+dresses, but they are exquisitely becoming to her; though, for my own
+part, I do not think the style equal to Theodore's. But then I always
+supplemented Theodore's ideas with my own suggestions.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="letter">
+"I hear that the <I>trousseau</I> is something wonderful. The <I>lingerie</I> is
+in quite a new style; a special make of linen has been introduced at
+Bruges on purpose for the occasion, and I have heard that the loom is
+to be broken and no more made. But this is perhaps exaggeration. The
+lace has all been made in Buckinghamshire, from patterns a hundred
+years old&mdash;very quaint and pretty. There is an elegant simplicity about
+everything, Mrs. Scobel tells me, which is very charming. The costumes
+for the Norwegian tour are heather-coloured water-proof cloth, with
+stitched borders, plain to the last degree, but with a <I>chic</I> that
+redeems their plainness.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="letter">
+"Conrad and I received an early invitation to the wedding. He will go;
+but I have refused, on the ground of ill-health. And, indeed, my dear
+Violet, this is no idle excuse. My health has been declining ever since
+you left us. I was always a fragile creature, as you know, even in your
+dear papa's time; but of late the least exertion has made me tremble
+like a leaf. I bear up, for Conrad's sake. He is so anxious and unhappy
+when he sees me suffer, and I am glad to spare him anxiety.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="letter">
+"Your old friend, Mr. Vawdrey, looks well and happy, but I do not see
+much of him. Believe me, dear, you acted well and wisely in leaving
+home when you did. It would have been a dreadful thing if Lady Mabel's
+engagement had been broken off on account of an idle flirtation between
+you and Rorie. It would have left a stain upon your name for life.
+Girls do not think of these things. I'm afraid I flirted a little
+myself when I was first out, and admiration was new to me; but I
+married so young that I escaped some of the dangers you have had to
+pass through.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="letter">
+"Roderick is making considerable improvements and alterations at
+Briarwood. He is trying to make the house pretty&mdash;I fear an impossible
+task. There is a commonplace tone about the building that defies
+improvement. The orchid-houses at Ashbourne are to be taken down and
+removed to Briarwood. The collection has been increasing ever since
+Lady Jane Vawdrey's death, and is now one of the finest in England. But
+to my mind the taste is a most foolish one. Dear Conrad thinks me
+extravagant for giving sixty guineas for a dress&mdash;what might he not
+think if I gave as much for a single plant? Lord Mallow is staying at
+Ashbourne for the wedding. His success in the House of Commons has made
+him quite a lion. He called and took tea with me the other day. He is
+very nice. Ah, my dearest Violet, what a pity you could not like him.
+It would have been such a splendid match for you, and would have made
+Conrad and me so proud and happy."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Vixen folded the letter with a sigh. She was sitting in her favourite
+spot in the neglected garden, the figs ripening above her among their
+broad ragged leaves, and the green slopes and valleys lying beneath
+her&mdash;orchards and meadows and pink homesteads, under a sultry summer
+haze.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The daughter was not particularly alarmed by her mother's complaint of
+declining health. It was that old cry of "wolf," which Violet had heard
+ever since she could remember.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor mamma!" she said to herself, with a half-pitying tenderness, "it
+has always been her particular vanity to fancy herself an invalid; and
+yet no doctor has ever been able to find out anything amiss. She ought
+to be very happy now, poor dear; she has the husband of her choice, and
+no rebellious daughter to make the atmosphere stormy. I must write to
+Mrs. Scobel, and ask if mamma is really not quite so well as when I
+left home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And then Vixen's thoughts wandered away to Rorie, and the alterations
+that were being made at Briarwood. He was preparing a bright home for
+his young wife, and they would be very happy together, and it would be
+as if Violet had never crossed his path.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But he was fond of me, last midsummer twelvemonth," thought Vixen,
+half seated half reclining against a grassy bank, with her hands
+clasped above her head, and her open book flung aside upon the long
+grass, where the daisies and dandelions grew in such wild abundance.
+"Yes, he loved me dearly then, and would have sacrificed interest,
+honour, all the world for my sake. Can he forget those days, when they
+are thus ever present to my mind? He seemed more in love than I: yet, a
+little year, and he is going to be married. Have men no memories? I do
+not believe that he loves Lady Mabel any better than he did a year ago,
+when he asked me to be his wife. But he has learnt wisdom; and he is
+going to keep his word, and to be owner of Briarwood and Ashbourne, and
+a great man in the county. I suppose it is a glorious destiny."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In these last days of July a strange restlessness had taken possession
+of Violet Tempest. She could not read or occupy herself in any way.
+Those long rambles about the island, to wild precipices looking down on
+peaceful bays, to furzy hills where a few scattered sheep were her sole
+companions, to heathery steeps that were craggy and precipitous and
+dangerous to climb, and so had a certain fascination for the lonely
+wanderer&mdash;these rambles, which had been her chief resource and solace
+until now, had suddenly lost their charm. She dawdled in the garden, or
+roamed restlessly from the garden to the orchard, from the orchard to
+the sloping meadow, where Miss Skipwith's solitary cow, last
+representative of a once well-stocked farm, browsed in a dignified
+seclusion. The days were slow, and oh, how lengthy! and yet there was a
+fever in Vixen's blood which made it seem to her as if time were
+hurrying on at a breathless break-neck pace.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The day after to-morrow he will be married," she said to herself, on
+the morning of the thirtieth. "By this time on the day after to-morrow,
+the bride will be putting on her wreath of orange blossoms, and the
+church will be decorated with flowers, and there will be a flutter of
+expectation in all the little villages, from one end of the Forest to
+the other. A duke's daughter is not married every day in the year. Ah
+me! there will not be an earthquake, or anything to prevent the
+wedding, I daresay. No, I feel sure that all things are going smoothly.
+If there had been a hitch of any kind, mamma would have written to tell
+me about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Skipwith was not a bad person to live with in a time of secret
+trouble such as this. She was so completely wrapped up in her grand
+scheme of reconciliation for all the creeds, that she was utterly blind
+to any small individual tragedy that might be enacted under her nose.
+Those worn cheeks and haggard eyes of Vixen's attracted no attention
+from her as they sat opposite to each other at the sparely-furnished
+breakfast-table, in the searching summer light.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She had allowed Violet perfect liberty, and had been too apathetic to
+be unkind. Having tried her hardest to interest the girl in Swedenborg,
+or Luther, or Calvin, or Mahomet, or Brahma, or Confucius, and having
+failed ignominiously in each attempt, she had dismissed all idea of
+companionship with Violet from her mind, and had given her over to her
+own devices.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor child," she said to herself, "she is not unamiable, but she is
+utterly mindless. What advantages she might have derived from
+intercourse with me, if she had possessed a receptive nature! But my
+highest gifts are thrown away upon her. She will go through life in
+lamentable ignorance of all that is of deepest import in man's past and
+future. She has no more intellect than Baba."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Baba was the Persian cat, the silent companion of Miss Skipwith's
+studious hours.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So Violet roamed in and out of the house, in this languid weather, and
+took up a book only to throw it down again, and went out to the
+court-yard to pat Argus, and strolled into the orchard and leaned
+listlessly against an ancient apple-tree, with her loose hair
+glistening in the sunshine&mdash;just as if she were posing herself for a
+pre-Raphaelite picture&mdash;and no one took any heed of her goings and
+comings.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was supremely lonely. Even looking forward to the future&mdash;when she
+would be of age and well off, and free to do what she liked with her
+life&mdash;she could see no star of hope. Nobody wanted her. She stood quite
+alone amidst a strange, unfriendly world.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Except poor old McCroke, I don't think there is a creature who cares
+for me; and even her love is tepid," she said to herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She had kept up a regular correspondence with her old governess, since
+she had been in Jersey, and had developed to Miss McCroke the scheme of
+her future travels. They were to see everything strange and rare and
+beautiful, that was to be seen in the world.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"I wonder if you would much mind going to Africa?" she wrote, in one of
+her frank girlish letters. "There must be something new in Africa. One
+would get away from the beaten ways of Cockney tourists, and one would
+escape the dreary monotony of a <I>table d'hôte</I>. There is Egypt for us
+to do; and you, who are a walking encyclopaedia, will be able to tell
+me all about the Pyramids, and Pompey's Pillar, and the Nile. If we got
+tired of Africa we might go to India. We shall be thoroughly
+independent. I know you are a good sailor; you are not like poor mamma,
+who used to suffer tortures in crossing the Channel."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+There was a relief in writing such letters as these, foolish though
+they might be. That idea of distant wanderings with Miss McCroke was
+the one faint ray of hope offered by the future&mdash;not a star, assuredly,
+but at least a farthing candle. The governess answered in her friendly
+matter-of-fact way. She would like much to travel with her dearest
+Violet. The life would be like heaven after her present drudgery in
+finishing the Misses Pontifex, who were stupid and supercilious. But
+Miss McCroke was doubtful about Africa. Such a journey would be a
+fearful undertaking for two unprotected females. To have a peep at
+Algiers and Tunis, and even to see Cairo and Alexandria, might be
+practicable; but anything beyond that Miss McCroke thought wild and
+adventurous. Had her dear Violet considered the climate, and the
+possibility of being taken prisoners by black people, or even devoured
+by lions? Miss McCroke begged her dear pupil to read Livingstone's
+travels and the latest reports of the Royal Geographical Society,
+before she gave any further thought to Africa.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The slowest hours, days the most wearisome, long nights that know not
+sleep, must end at last. The first of August dawned, a long streak of
+red light in the clear gray east. Vixen saw the first glimmer as she
+lay wide awake in her big old bed, staring through the curtainless
+windows to the far sea-line, above which the morning sky grew red.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hail, Rorie's wedding-day!" she cried, with a little hysterical laugh;
+and then she buried her face in the pillow and sobbed aloud&mdash;sobbed as
+she had not done till now, through all her weary exile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There had been no earthquake; this planet we live on had not rolled
+backwards in space; all things in life pursued their accustomed course,
+and time had ripened into Roderick Vawdrey's wedding-day.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I did think <I>something</I> would happen," said Vixen piteously. "It was
+foolish, weak, mad to think so. But I could not believe he would marry
+anyone but me. I did my duty, and I tried to be brave and steadfast.
+But I thought something would happen."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A weak lament from the weak soul of an undisciplined girl. The red
+light grew and glowed redder in the east, and then the yellow sun shone
+through gray drifting clouds, and the new day was born. Slumber and
+Violet had parted company for the last week. Her mind had been too full
+of images; the curtain of sleep would not hide them. Frame and mind
+were both alike worn out, as she lay in the broadening light, lonely,
+forsaken, unpitied, bearing her great sorrow, just as she must have
+borne the toothache, or any other corporal pain.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She rose at seven, feeling unspeakably tired, dressed herself slowly
+and dawdlingly, thinking of Lady Mabel. What an event her rising and
+dressing would be this morning&mdash;the flurried maids, the indulgent
+mother; the pure white garments, glistening in the tempered sunlight;
+the luxurious room, with its subdued colouring, its perfume of
+freshly-cut flowers; the dainty breakfast-tray, on a table by an open
+window; the shower of congratulatory letters, and the last delivery of
+wedding gifts. Vixen could imagine the scene, with its every detail.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And Roderick, what of him? She could not so easily picture the
+companion of her childhood on this fateful morning of his life. She
+could not imagine him happy: she dared not fancy him miserable. It was
+safer to make a great effort and shut that familiar figure out of her
+mind altogether.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Oh, what a dismal ceremony the eight&mdash;o'clock breakfast, <I>tête-à-tête</I>
+with Miss Skipwith, seemed on this particular morning! Even that
+preoccupied lady was constrained to notice Violet's exceeding pallor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear, you are ill!" she exclaimed. "Your face is as white as a
+sheet of paper, and your eyes have dark rings around them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not ill, but I have been sleeping badly of late."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear child, you need occupation; you want an aim. The purposeless
+life you are leading must result badly. Why can you not devise some
+pursuit to fill your idle hours? Far be it from me to interfere with
+your liberty; but I confess that it grieves me to see youth, and no
+doubt some measure of ability, so wasted. Why do you not strive to
+continue your education? Self-culture is the highest form of
+improvement. My books are at your disposal."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear Miss Skipwith, your books are all theological," said Vixen
+wearily, "and I don't care for theology. As for my education, I am not
+utterly neglecting it. I read Schiller till my eyes ache."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One shallow German poet is not the beginning and end of education,"
+replied Miss Skipwith. "I should like you to take larger views of
+woman's work in the world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My work in the world is to live quietly, and not to trouble anyone,"
+said Vixen, with a sigh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was glad to leave Miss Skipwith to her books, and to wander out
+into the sunny garden, where the figs were ripening or dropping
+half-ripened amongst the neglected grass, and the clustering bloom of
+the hydrangeas was as blue as the summer sky. There had been an
+unbroken interval of sultry weather&mdash;no rain, no wind, no clouds&mdash;only
+endless sunshine.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If it would hail, or blow, or thunder," sighed Vixen, with her hands
+clasped above her head, "the change might be some small relief to my
+feelings; but this everlasting brightness is too dreadful. What a lying
+world it is, and how Nature smiles at us when our hearts are aching.
+Well, I suppose I ought to wish the sunshine to last till after Rorie's
+wedding; but I don't, I don't, I don't! If the heavens were to darken,
+and forked lightnings to cleave the black vault, I should dance for
+joy. I should hail the storm, and cry, 'This is sympathy!'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And then she flung herself face downwards on the grass and sobbed, as
+she had sobbed on her pillow that morning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It rends my heart to know we are parted for ever," she said. "Oh why
+did I not say Yes that night in the fir plantation? The chance of
+lifelong bliss was in my hand, and I let it go. It would have been less
+wicked to give way then, and accept my happy fate, than to suffer these
+evil feelings that are gnawing at my heart to-day&mdash;vain rage, cruel
+hatred of the innocent!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The wedding bells must be ringing by this time. She fancied she could
+hear them. Yes, the summer air seemed alive with bells. North, south,
+east, west, all round the island, they were ringing madly, with tuneful
+marriage peal. They beat upon her brain. They would drive her mad. She
+tried to stop her ears, but then those wedding chimes seemed ringing
+inside her head. She could not shut them out. She remembered how the
+joybells had haunted her ears on Rorie's twenty-first birthday&mdash;that
+day which had ended so bitterly, in the announcement of the engagement
+between the cousins. Yes, that had been her first real trouble, How
+well she remembered her despair and desolation that night, the rage
+that possessed her young soul.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I was little more than a child, then," she said to herself.
+"Surely I must have been born wicked. My dear father was living then;
+and even the thought of his love did not comfort me. I felt myself
+abandoned and alone in the world. How idiotically fond I must have been
+of Rorie. Ever so many years have come and gone, and I have not cured
+myself of this folly. What is there in him that I should care for him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She got up from the grass, plucked herself out of that paroxysm of
+mental pain which came too near lunacy, and began to walk slowly round
+the garden-paths, reasoning with herself, calling womanly pride to the
+rescue.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hate myself for this weakness," she protested dumbly. "I did not
+think I was capable of it. When I was a child, and was taken to the
+dentist, did I ever whine and howl like vulgar-minded children? No; I
+braced myself for the ordeal, and bore the pain, as my father's child
+ought."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She walked quickly to the house, burst into the parlour, where Miss
+Skipwith was sitting at her desk, the table covered with open volumes,
+over which flowers of literature the student roved, beelike, collecting
+honey for her intellectual hive.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please, Miss Skipwith, will you give me some books about Buddha?" said
+Vixen, with an alarming suddenness. "I am quite of your opinion: I
+ought to study. I think I shall go in for theology."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dearest child!" cried the ancient damsel, enraptured. "Thank
+Heaven! the seed I have sown has germinated at last. If you are once
+inspired with the desire to enter that vast field of knowledge, the
+rest will follow. The flowers you will find by the wayside will lure
+you onward, even when the path is stony and difficult."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose I had better begin with Buddha," said Vixen, with a hard and
+resolute manner that scarcely seemed like the burning desire for
+knowledge newly kindled in the breast of a youthful student. "That is
+beginning at the beginning, is it not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, my dear. In comparison with the priesthood of Egypt, Buddha is
+contemptibly modern. If we want the beginning of things, we must revert
+to Egypt, that cradle of learning and civilisation."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then let me begin with Egypt!" cried Vixen impatiently. "I don't care
+a bit how I begin. I want occupation for my mind."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did I not say so?" exclaimed Miss Skipwith, full of ardent welcome for
+the neophyte whose steps had been so tardy in approaching the shrine.
+"That pallor, those haggard eyes are indications of a troubled mind;
+and no mind can be free from trouble when it lacks an object. We create
+our own sorrows."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, we are wretched creatures!" cried Vixen passionately, "the
+poorest examples of machinery in all this varied universe. Look at that
+cow in your orchard, her dull placid life, inoffensive, useful, asking
+nothing but a fertile meadow and a sunny day to fill her cup of
+happiness. Why did the great Creator make the lower animals exempt from
+sorrow, and give us such an infinite capacity for grief and pain? It
+seems hardly fair."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear, our Creator gave us minds, and the power of working out our
+own salvation," replied Miss Skipwith. "Here are half-a-dozen volumes.
+In these you will find the history of Egyptian theology, from the
+golden age of the god Râ to the dark and troubled period of Persian
+invasion. Some of these works are purely philosophical. I should
+recommend you to read the historical volumes first. Make copious notes
+of what you read, and do not hesitate to refer to me when you are
+puzzled."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am afraid that will be very often," said Vixen, piling up the books
+in her arms with a somewhat hopeless air. "I am not at all clever; but
+I want to employ my mind."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She carried the books up to her bedroom, and arranged them on a stout
+old oak table, which Mrs. Doddery had found for her accommodation. She
+opened her desk, and put a quire of paper ready for any notes she might
+be tempted to make, and then she began, steadily and laboriously, with
+a dry-as-dust history of ancient Egypt.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Oh, how her poor head ached as the summer noontide wore on, and the
+bees hummed in the garden below, and the distant waves danced gaily in
+the sunlight; and the knowledge that the bells were really ringing at
+Ashbourne could not be driven from her mind. How the Shepherd Kings,
+and the Pharaohs, and the comparatively modern days of Joseph and his
+brethren, and the ridiculously recent era of Moses, passed, like dim
+shifting shadows, before her mental vision. She retraced her steps in
+that dreary book, again and again, patiently, forcing her mind to the
+uncongenial task.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will not be such a slave as to think of him all this long summer
+day," she said to herself. "I <I>will</I> think of the god Râ, and lotus
+flowers, and the Red Nile, and the Green Nile, and all this wonderful
+land where I am going to take dear old McCroke by-and-by."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She read on till dinner-time, only pausing to scribble rapid notes of
+the dates and names and facts which would not stand steadily in her
+whirling brain; and then she went down to the parlour, no longer pale,
+but with two hectic spots on her cheeks, and her eyes unnaturally
+bright.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah," ejaculated Miss Skipwith, delightedly. "You look better already.
+There is nothing like severe study for bracing the nerves."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Violet talked about Egypt all dinner-time, but she ate hardly anything,
+and that hectic flush upon her cheeks grew more vivid as she talked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To think that after the seed lying dormant all this time, it should
+have germinated at last with such sudden vigour," mused Miss Skipwith.
+"The poor girl is talking a good deal of nonsense; but that is only the
+exuberance of a newly awakened intellect."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Vixen went back to the Egyptians directly after dinner. She toiled
+along the arid road with an indomitable patience. Her ideas of Egypt
+had hitherto been of the vaguest. Vast plains of barren sand, a pyramid
+or two, Memnon's head breathing wild music in the morning sunshine,
+crocodiles, copper-coloured natives, and Antony and Cleopatra. These
+things were about as much as Miss McCroke's painstaking tuition had
+implanted in her pupil's mind. And here, without a shadow of vocation,
+this poor ignorant girl was poring over the driest details that ever
+interested the scholar. The mysteries of the triple language, the
+Rosetta Stone, Champollion&mdash;<I>tout le long de la rivière</I>. Was it any
+wonder that her head ached almost to agony, and that the ringing of
+imaginary wedding bells sounded distractingly in her ears?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She worked on till tea-time, and was too engrossed to hear the bell,
+which clanged lustily for every meal in the orderly household: a bell
+whose clamour was somewhat too much for the repast it heralded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This evening Vixen did not hear the bell, inviting her to weak tea and
+bread-and-butter. The ringing of those other bells obscured the sound.
+She was sitting with her book before her, but her eyes fixed on
+vacancy, when Miss Skipwith, newly interested in her charge, came to
+inquire the cause of her delay. The girl looked at her languidly, and
+seemed slow to understand what she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't care for any tea," she replied at last. "I would rather go on
+with the history. It is tremendously interesting, especially the
+hieroglyphics. I have been trying to make them out. It is so nice to
+know that a figure like a chopper means a god, and that a goose with a
+black ball above his hack means Pharaoh, son of the sun. And then the
+table of dynasties: can anything be more interesting than those? It
+makes one's head go round just a little at first, when one has to grope
+backwards through so many centuries, but that's nothing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear, you are working too hard. It is foolish to begin with such
+impetuosity. A fire that burns so fiercely will soon exhaust itself.
+<I>Festina lente</I>. We must hasten slowly, if we want to make solid
+progress. Why, my poor child, your fore-head is burning. You will read
+yourself into a fever."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think I am in a fever already," said Vixen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Skipwith was unusually kind. She insisted upon helping her charge
+to undress, and would not leave her till she was lying quietly in bed.
+She was going to draw down the blinds, but against this Vixen protested
+vehemently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pray leave me the sky," she cried; "it is something to look at through
+the long blank night. The stars come and go, and the clouds are always
+changing. I believe I should go mad if it were not for the sky."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Poor Miss Skipwith felt seriously uneasy. The first draught from the
+fountain of knowledge had evidently exercised an intoxicating effect
+upon Violet Tempest. It was as if she had been taking opium or hashish.
+The girl's brain was affected.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have studied too long," she said. "This must not occur again. I
+feel myself responsible to your parents for your health."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To my parents," echoed Vixen, with a sudden sigh; "I have only one,
+and she is happier in my absence than when I was with her. You need not
+be uneasy about me if I fall ill. No one will care. If I were to die,
+no one would be sorry. I have no place in the world. No one would miss
+me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear, it is absolutely wicked to talk in this strain; just as you
+are developing new powers, an intellect which may make you a pillar and
+a landmark in your age."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't want to be a pillar or a landmark," said Vixen impatiently. "I
+don't want to have my name associated with 'movements,' or to write
+letters to The Times. I should like to have been happy my own way."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She turned her back upon Miss Skipwith, and lay so still that the
+excellent lady supposed she was dropping off to sleep.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A good night's rest will restore her, and she will awake with renewed
+appetite for knowledge," she murmured benevolently as she went back to
+her Swedenborgian studies.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap09"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER IX.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+The nearest Way to Norway.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+No such blessing as a good night's rest was in store for Violet Tempest
+on that night of the first of August. She lay in a state of
+half-consciousness that was near akin to delirium. When she closed her
+eyes for a little while the demon of evil dreams took hold of her. She
+was in the old familiar home-scenes with her dear dead father. She
+acted over again that awful tragedy of sudden death. She was upbraiding
+her mother about Captain Winstanley. Bitter words were on her lips;
+words more bitter than even she had ever spoken in all her intensity of
+adverse feeling. She was in the woody hollow by Rufus's stone,
+blindfold, with arms stretched helplessly out, seeking for Rorie among
+the smooth beech-boles, with a dreadful sense of loneliness, and a fear
+that he was far away, and that she would perish, lost and alone, in
+that dismal wood.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So the slow night wore on to morning. Sometimes she lay staring idly at
+the stars, shining so serenely in that calm summer sky. She wondered
+what life was like, yonder, in those remote worlds. Was humanity's
+portion as sad, fate as adverse, there as here? Then she thought of
+Egypt, and Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra&mdash;that story of a wild,
+undisciplined love, grand in its lawless passion&mdash;its awful doom. To
+have loved thus, and died thus, seemed a higher destiny than to do
+right, and patiently conquer sorrow, and live on somehow to the dismal
+end of the dull blameless chapter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At last, with what laggard steps, with what oppressive tardiness, came
+the dawn, in long streaks of lurid light above the edge of the distant
+waters.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Red sky at morning is the shepherd's warning!'" cried Vixen, with dry
+lips. "Thank God there will be rain to-day! Welcome change after the
+hot arid skies, and the cruel brazen sun, mocking all the miseries of
+this troubled earth."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She felt almost as wildly glad as the Ancient Mariner, at the idea of
+that blessed relief; and then, by-and-by, with the changeful light
+shining on her face, she fell into a deep sleep.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Perhaps that morning sleep saved Vixen from an impending fever. It was
+the first refreshing slumber she had had for a week&mdash;a sweet dreamless
+sleep. The breakfast-bell rang unheeded. The rain, forecast by that red
+sky, fell in soft showers upon the verdant isle, and the grateful earth
+gave back its sweetest perfumes to the cool, moist air.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Skipwith came softly in to look at her charge, saw her sleeping
+peacefully, and as softly retired.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor child! the initiation has been too much for her unformed mind,"
+she murmured complacently, pleased with herself for having secured a
+disciple. "The path is narrow and rugged at the beginning, but it will
+broaden out before her as she goes on."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Violet awoke, and found that it was mid-day. Oh, what a blessed relief
+that long morning sleep had been. She woke like a creature cured of
+mortal pain. She fell on her knees beside the bed, and prayed as she
+had not often prayed in her brief careless life.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What am I that I should question Thy justice!" she cried. "Lord, teach
+me to submit, teach me to bear my burden patiently, and to do some good
+in the world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her mood and temper were wondrously softened after a long interval of
+thought and prayer. She was ashamed of her waywardness of
+yesterday&mdash;her foolish unreasonable passion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor Rorie, I told him to keep his promise, and he has obeyed me," she
+said to herself. "Can I be angry with him for that? I ought to feel
+proud and glad that we were both strong enough to do our duty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She dressed slowly, languid after the excitement of yesterday, and then
+went slowly down the broad bare staircase to Miss Skipwith's parlour.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The lady of the manor received her with affectionate greeting, and had
+a special pot of tea brewed for her, and insisted upon her eating some
+dry toast, a form of nourishment which this temperate lady deemed a
+panacea in illness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was positively alarmed about you last night, my dear," she said;
+"you were so feverish and excited. You read too much, for the first
+day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid I did," assented Vixen, with a faint smile; "and the worst
+of it is, I believe I have forgotten every word I read."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Surely not!" cried Miss Skipwith, horrified at this admission. "You
+seemed so impressed&mdash;so interested. You were so full of your subject."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have a faint recollection of the little men in the hieroglyphics,"
+said Vixen; "but all the rest is gone. The images of Antony and
+Cleopatra, in Shakespeare's play, bring Egypt more vividly before me
+than all the history I read yesterday."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Skipwith looked shocked, just as if some improper character in
+real life had been brought before her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Cleopatra was very disreputable, and she was not Egyptian," she
+remarked severely. "I am sorry you should waste your thoughts upon such
+a person."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think she is the most interesting woman in ancient history," said
+Vixen wilfully, "as Mary Queen of Scots is in modern history. It is not
+the good people whose images take hold of one's fancy, What a faint
+idea one has of Lady Jane Grey, And, in Schiller's 'Don Carlos,' I
+confess the Marquis of Posa never interested me half so keenly as
+Philip of Spain."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear, you are made up of fancies and caprices. Your mind wants
+balance," said Miss Skipwith, affronted at this frivolity. "Had you not
+better go for a walk with your dog? Doddery tells me that poor Argus
+has not had a good run since last week."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How wicked of me!" cried Vixen. "Poor old fellow! I had almost
+forgotten his existence. Yes, I should like a long walk, if you will
+not think me idle."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You studied too many hours yesterday, my dear. It will do you good to
+relax the bow to-day. <I>Non semper arcum tendit Apollo!</I>"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll go for my favourite walk to Mount Orgueil. I don't think there'll
+be any more rain. Please excuse me if I am not home in time for dinner.
+I can have a little cold meat, or an egg, for my tea."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You had better take a sandwich with you," said Miss Skipwith, with
+unusual thoughtfulness. "You have been eating hardly anything lately."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Vixen did not care about the sandwich, but submitted, to please her
+hostess, and a neat little paper parcel, containing about three ounces
+of nutriment, was made up for her by Mrs. Doddery. Never had the island
+looked fairer in its summer beauty than it did to-day, after the
+morning's rain. These showers had been to Jersey what sleep had been to
+Vixen. The air was soft and cool; sparkling rain-drops fell like
+diamonds from the leaves of ash and elm. The hedge-row ferns had taken
+a new green, as if the spirit of spring had revisited the island. The
+blue bright sea was dimpled with wavelets.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+What a bright glad world it was, and how great must be the sin of a
+rebellious spirit, cavilling at the dealings of its Creator! The happy
+dog bounced and bounded round his mistress, the birds twittered in the
+hedges, the passing farm-labourer with his cartload of seaweed smacked
+his whip cheerily as he urged his patient horse along the narrow lane.
+A huge van-load of Cockney tourists, singing a boisterous chorus of the
+last music-hall song, passed Vixen at a turn of the road, and made a
+blot on the serene beauty of the scene. They were going to eat lobsters
+and drink bottled beer and play skittles at Le Tac. Vixen rejoiced when
+their raucous voices died away on the summer breeze.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why is Jersey the peculiar haunt of the vulgar?" she wondered. "It is
+such a lovely place that it deserves to be visited by something better
+than the refuse of Margate and Ramsgate."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a meadow-path which lessened the distance between Les
+Tourelles and Mount Orgueil. Vixen had just left the road and entered
+the meadow when Argus set up a joyous bark, and ran back to salute a
+passing vehicle. It was a St. Helier's fly, driving at a tremendous
+pace in the direction from which she had come. A young man lay back in
+the carriage, smoking a cigar, with his hat slouched over his eyes.
+Vixen could just see the strong sunburnt hand flung up above his head.
+It was a foolish fancy, doubtless, but that broad brown hand reminded
+her of Rorie's. Argus leaped the stile, rushed after the vehicle, and
+saluted it clamorously. The poor brute had been mewed up for a week in
+a dull courtyard, and was rejoiced at having something to bark at.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Vixen walked on to the seashore, and the smiling little harbour, and
+the brave old castle. There was the usual party of tourists following
+the guide through narrow passages and echoing chambers, and peering
+into the rooms where Charles Stuart endured his exile, and making those
+lively remarks and speculations whereby the average tourist is prone to
+reveal his hazy notions of history. Happily Vixen knew of quiet corners
+upon the upward walls whither tourists rarely penetrated; nooks in
+which she had sat through many an hour of sun and shade, reading,
+musing, or sketching with free untutored pencil, for the mere idle
+delight of the moment. Here in this loneliness, between land and sea,
+she had nursed her sorrow and made much of her grief. She liked the
+place. No obtrusive sympathy had ever made it odious to her. Here she
+was mistress of herself and her own thoughts. To-day she went to her
+favourite corner, a seat in an angle of the battlemented wall, and sat
+there with her arms folded on the stone parapet, looking dreamily
+seaward, across the blue channel to the still bluer coast of Normandy,
+where the tower of Coutance showed dimly in the distance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Resignation. Yes, that was to be her portion henceforward. She must
+live out her life, in isolation almost as complete as Miss Skipwith's,
+without the innocent delusions which gave substance and colour to that
+lonely lady's existence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I could only have a craze," she thought hopelessly, "some harmless
+monomania which would fill my mind! The maniacs in Bedlam, who fancy
+themselves popes or queens, are happy in their foolish way. If I could
+only imagine myself something which I am not&mdash;anything except poor
+useless Violet Tempest, who has no place in the world!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The sun was gaining power, the air was drowsy, the soft ripple of the
+tide upon the golden sand was like a lullaby. Even that long sleep of
+the morning had not cured Vixen's weariness. There were long arrears of
+slumber yet to be made up. Her eyelids drooped, then closed altogether,
+the ocean lullaby took a still softer sound, the distant voices of the
+tourists grew infinitely soothing, and Vixen sank quietly to sleep, her
+head leaning on her folded arms, the gentle west wind faintly stirring
+her loose hair.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"'Oh, happy kiss that woke thy sleep!'" cried a familiar voice close in
+the slumberer's ear, and then a warm breath, which was not the summer
+wind, fanned the cheek that lay upmost upon her arm, two warm lips were
+pressed against that glowing cheek in ardent greeting. The girl started
+to her feet, every vein tingling with the thrilling recognition of her
+assailant. There was no one else&mdash;none other than he&mdash;in this wide
+world who would do such a thing! She sprang up, and faced him, her eyes
+flashing, her cheeks crimson.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How dare you?" she cried. "Then it was you I saw in the fly? Pray, is
+this the nearest way to Norway?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Yes, it was Rorie; looking exactly like the familiar Rorie of old; not
+one whit altered by marriage with a duke's only daughter; a stalwart
+young fellow in a rough gray suit, a dark face sunburnt to deepest
+bronze, eyes with a happy smile in them, firmly-cut lips half hidden by
+the thick brown beard, a face that would have looked well under a
+lifted helmet&mdash;such a face as the scared Saxons must have seen among
+the bold followers of William the Norman, when those hardy Norse
+warriors ran amuck in Dover town.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not to my knowledge," answered this audacious villain, in his lightest
+tone. "I am not very geographical. But I should think it was rather out
+of the way."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you and Lady Mabel have changed your plans?" said Vixen,
+trembling very much, but trying desperately to be as calmly commonplace
+as a young lady talking to an ineligible partner at a ball. "You are
+not going to the north of Europe?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lady Mabel and I have changed our plans. We are not going to the north
+of Europe."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In point of fact, we are not going anywhere."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you have come to Jersey. That is part of your tour, I suppose?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do not be too hasty in your suppositions, Miss Tempest. <I>I</I> have come
+to Jersey&mdash;I am quite willing to admit as much as that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And Lady Mabel? She is with you, of course?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not the least bit in the world. To the best of my knowledge, Lady
+Mabel&mdash;I beg her pardon&mdash;Lady Mallow is now on her way to the
+fishing-grounds of Connemara with her husband."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Rorie!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+What a glad happy cry that was! It was like a gush of sudden music from
+a young blackbird's throat on a sunny spring morning. The crimson dye
+had faded from Violet's cheeks a minute ago and left her deadly pale.
+Now the bright colour rushed back again, the happy brown eyes, the
+sweet blush-rose lips, broke into the gladdest smile that ever Rorie
+had seen upon her face. He held out his arms, he clasped her to his
+breast, where she rested unresistingly, infinitely happy. Great Heaven!
+how the whole world and herself had become transformed in this moment
+of unspeakable bliss! Rorie, the lost, the surrendered, was her own
+true lover after all!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, dear, I obeyed you. You were hard and cruel to me that night in
+the fir plantation; but I knew in my heart of hearts that you were
+wise, and honest, and true; and I made up my mind that I would keep the
+engagement entered upon beside my mother's death-bed. Loving or
+unloving I would marry Mabel Ashbourne, and do my duty to her, and go
+down to my grave with the character of a good and faithful husband, as
+many a man has done who never loved his wife. So I held on, Vixen&mdash;yes,
+I will call you by the old pet name now: henceforward you are mine, and
+I shall call you what I like&mdash;I held on, and was altogether an
+exemplary lover; went wherever I was ordered to go, and always came
+when they whistled for me; rode at my lady's jog-trot pace in the Row,
+stood behind her chair at the opera, endured more classical music than
+ever man heard before and lived, listened to my sweetheart's manuscript
+verses, and, in a word, did my duty in that state of life to which it
+had pleased God to call me; and my reward has been to be jilted with
+every circumstance of ignominy on my wedding-morning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Jilted!" cried Vixen, her big brown eyes shining, in pleasantest
+mockery. "Why I thought Lady Mabel adored you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So did I," answered Roderick naïvely, "and I pitied the poor dear
+thing for her infatuation. Had I not thought that, I should have broken
+my bonds long ago. It was not the love of the Duke's acres that held
+me. I still believe that Mabel was fond of me once, but Lord Mallow
+bowled me out. His eloquence, his parliamentary success, and, above
+all, his flattery, proved irresistible. The scoundrel brought a
+marriage certificate in his pocket when he came to stay at Ashbourne,
+and had the art to engage rooms at Southampton and sleep there a night
+<I>en passant</I>. He left a portmanteau and a hat-box there, and that
+constituted legal occupancy; so, when he won Lady Mabel's consent to an
+elopement&mdash;which I believe he did not succeed in doing till the night
+before our intended wedding-day&mdash;he had only to ride over to
+Southampton and give notice to the parson and clerk. The whole thing
+was done splendidly. Lady Mabel went out at eight o'clock, under the
+pretence of going to early church. Mallow was waiting for her with a
+fly, half a mile from Ashbourne. They drove to Southampton together,
+and were married at ten o'clock, in the old church of St. Michael.
+While the distracted Duchess and her women were hunting everywhere for
+the bride, and all the visitors at Ashbourne were arraying themselves
+in their wedding finery, and the village children were filling their
+baskets with flowers to strew upon the pathway of the happy pair,
+emblematical of the flowers which do <I>not</I> blossom in the highway of
+life, the lady was over the border with Jock o' Hazeldean! Wasn't it
+fun, Vixen?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And the jilted one flung back his handsome head and laughed long and
+loud. It was too good a joke, the welcome release coming at the last
+moment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"At half-past ten there came a telegram from my runaway bride:
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="letter">
+"'Ask Roderick to forgive me, dear mamma. I found at the last that my
+heart was not mine to give, and I am married to Lord Mallow. I do not
+think my cousin will grieve very much.'
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"That last clause was sensible, anyhow, was it not, Vixen?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think the whole business was very sensible," said Vixen, with a
+sweet grave smile; "Lord Mallow wanted a clever wife and you did not.
+It was very wise of Lady Mabel to find that out before it was too late."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She will be very happy as Lady Mallow," said Roderick. "Mallow will
+legislate for Ireland, and she will rule him. He will have quite enough
+of Home Rule, poor beggar. Hibernia will be Mabelised. She is a dear
+good little thing. I quite love her, now she has jilted me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But how did you come here?" asked Vixen, looking up at her lover in
+simple wonder. "All this happened only yesterday morning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is there not a steamer that leaves Southampton nightly? Had there not
+been one I would have chartered a boat for myself. I would have come in
+a cockle-shell&mdash;I would have come with a swimming-belt&mdash;I would have
+done anything wild and adventurous to hasten to my love. I started for
+Southampton the minute I had seen that too blessed telegram; went to
+St. Michael's, saw the register with its entry of Lord Mallow's
+marriage, hardly dry; and then went down to the docks and booked my
+berth. Oh, what a long day yesterday was&mdash;the longest day of my life!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And of mine," sighed Vixen, between tears and laughter, "in spite of
+the Shepherd Kings."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are those Jersey people you have picked up?" Rorie asked innocently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This turned the scale, and Vixen burst into a joyous peal of laughter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did you find me here?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very easily. Your custodian&mdash;what a grim-looking personage she is,
+by-the-way&mdash;told me where you were gone, and directed me how to follow
+you. I told her I had a most important message to deliver to you from
+your mother. You don't mind that artless device, I hope?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not much. How is dear mamma? She complains in her letters of not
+feeling very well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have not seen her lately. When I did, I thought her looking ill and
+worn. She will get well when you go back to her, Vixen. Your presence
+will be like sunshine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall never go back to the Abbey House."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, you will&mdash;for one fortnight at least. After that your home will
+be at Briarwood. You must be married from your father's house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who said I was going to be married, sir?" asked Vixen, with delicious
+coquetry.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I said it&mdash;I say it. Do you think I am too bold, darling? Ought I to
+go on my knees, love, and make you a formal offer? Why I have loved you
+all my life; and I think you have loved me as long."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So I have, Rorie," she answered softly, shyly, sweetly. "I forswore
+myself that night in the fir-wood. I always loved you; there was no
+stage of my life when you were not dearer to me than anyone on earth,
+except my father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear love, I am ashamed of my happiness," said Roderick tenderly. "I
+have been so weak and unworthy. I gave away my hopes of bliss in one
+foolishly soft moment, to gratify my mother's dying wish&mdash;a wish that
+had been dinned into my ear the last years of her life&mdash;and I have done
+nothing but repent my folly ever since. Can you forgive me, Violet? I
+shall never forgive myself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let the past be like a dream that we have dreamt. It will make the
+future seem so much the brighter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And then under the blue August sky, fearless and unabashed, these happy
+lovers gave each other the kiss of betrothal.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What am I to do with you?" Vixen asked laughingly. "I ought to go home
+to Les Tourelles."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you think you might take me with you? I am your young man now,
+you know. I hope it is not a case of 'no followers allowed.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid Miss Skipwith will feel disappointed in me. She thought I
+was going to have a mission."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A mission!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; that I was going for theology. And for it all to end in my being
+engaged to be married! It seems such a commonplace ending, does it not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Decidedly. As commonplace as the destiny of Adam and Eve, whom God
+joined together in Eden. Take me back to Les Tourelles, Vixen. I think
+I shall be able to manage Miss Skipwith."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They left the battlements, and descended the narrow stairs, and went
+side by side, through sunlit fields and lanes, to the old Carolian
+manor house, happy with that unutterable, immeasurable joy which
+belongs to happy love, and to love only; whether it be the romantic
+passion of a Juliet leaning from her balcony, the holy bliss of a
+mother hanging over her child's cradle, or the sober affection of the
+wife who has seen the dawn and close of a silver wedding and yet loves
+on with love unchangeable&mdash;a monument of constancy in an age of easy
+divorce.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The distance was long; but to these two the walk was of the shortest.
+It was as if they trod on flowers or airy cloud, so lightly fell their
+footsteps on the happy earth.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+What would Miss Skipwith say? Vixen laughed merrily at the image of
+that cheated lady.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To think that all my Egyptian researches should end in&mdash;Antony!" she
+said, with a joyous look at her lover, who required to be informed
+which Antony she meant.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I remember him in Plutarch," he said. "He was a jolly fellow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And in Shakespeare."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>Connais pas</I>," said Rorie. "I've read some of Shakespeare's plays, of
+course, but not all. He wrote too much."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was five o'clock in the afternoon when they arrived at Les
+Tourelles. They had loitered a little in those sunny lanes, stopping to
+look seaward through a gap in the hedge, or to examine a fern which was
+like the ferns of Hampshire. They had such a world of lovers' nonsense
+to say to each other, such confessions of past unhappiness, such
+schemes of future bliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid you'll never like Briarwood as well as the Abbey House,"
+said Rorie humbly. "I tried my best to patch it up for Lady Mabel; for,
+you see, as I felt I fell short in the matter of affection, I wanted to
+do the right thing in furniture and decorations. But the house is
+lamentably modern and commonplace. I'm afraid you'll never be happy
+there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Rorie, I could be happy with you if our home were no better than the
+charcoal-burner's hut in Mark Ash," protested Vixen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's very good of you to say that. Do you like sage-green?" Rorie
+asked with a doubtful air.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pretty well. It reminds me of mamma's dress-maker, Madame Theodore."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because Mabel insisted upon having sage-green curtains, and
+chair-covers, and a sage-green wall with a chocolate dado&mdash;did you ever
+hear of a dado?&mdash;in the new morning-room I built for her. I'm rather
+afraid you won't like it; I should have preferred pink or blue myself,
+and no dado. It looks so much as if one had run short of wall-paper.
+But it can all be altered by-and-by, if you don't like it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They found Miss Skipwith pacing the weedy gravel walk in front of her
+parlour window, with a disturbed air, and a yellow envelope in her hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear, this has been an eventful day," she exclaimed. "I have been
+very anxious for your return. Here is a telegram for you; and as it is
+the first you have had since you have been staying here, I conclude it
+is of some importance."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Vixen took the envelope eagerly from her hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you were not standing by my side, a telegram would frighten me,"
+she whispered to Roderick. "It might tell me you were dead."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The telegram was from Captain Winstanley to Miss Tempest:
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="letter">
+"Come home by the next boat. Your mother is ill, and anxious to see
+you. The carriage will meet you at Southampton."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Poor Vixen looked at her lover with a conscience-stricken countenance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Rorie, and I have been so wickedly, wildly happy!" she cried, as
+if it were a crime to have so rejoiced. "And I made so light of mamma's
+last letter, in which she complained of being ill. I hardly gave it a
+thought."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't suppose there is anything very wrong," said Rorie, in a
+comforting tone, after he had studied those few bold words in the
+telegram, trying to squeeze the utmost meaning out of the brief
+sentence. "You see, Captain Winstanley does not say that your mother is
+dangerously ill, or even very ill; he only says ill. That might mean
+something quite insignificant&mdash;hay-fever or neuralgia, or a nervous
+headache."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But he tells me to go home&mdash;he who hates me, and was so glad to get me
+out of the house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is your mother who summons you home, no doubt. She is mistress in
+her own house, of course."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You would not say that if you knew Captain Winstanley."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They were alone together on the gravel walk, Miss Skipwith having
+retired to make tea in her dingy parlour. It had dawned upon her that
+this visitor of Miss Tempest's was no common friend; and she had
+judiciously left the lovers together. "Poor misguided child!" she
+murmured to herself pityingly; "just as she was developing a vocation
+for serious things! But perhaps if is all for the best. I doubt if she
+would ever have had breadth of mind to grapple with the great problems
+of natural religion."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Isn't it dreadful?" said Vixen, walking up and down with the telegram
+in her hand. "I shall have to endure hours of suspense before I can
+know how my poor mother is. There is no boat till to-morrow morning.
+It's no use talking, Rorie." Mr. Vawdrey was following her up and down
+the walk affectionately, but not saying a word. "I feel convinced that
+mamma must be seriously ill; I should not be sent for unless it were
+so. In all her letters there has not been a word about my going home. I
+was not wanted."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, dearest love, you know that your mother is apt to think seriously
+of trifles."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Rorie, you told me an hour ago that she was looking ill when last you
+saw her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Roderick looked at his watch.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is one thing I might do," he said, musingly. "Has Miss Skipwith
+a horse and trap?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not the least in the world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's a pity; it would have saved time. I'll get down to St. Helier's
+somehow, telegraph to Captain Winstanley to inquire the exact state of
+your mother's health, and not come back till I bring you his answer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Rorie, that would be good of you!" exclaimed Vixen. "But it seems
+too cruel to send you away like that; you have been travelling so long.
+You have had nothing to eat. You must be dreadfully tired."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tired! Have I not been with you? There are some people whose presence
+makes one unconscious of humanity's weaknesses. No, darling, I am
+neither tired nor hungry; I am only ineffably happy. I'll go down and
+set the wires in motion; and then I'll find out all about the steamer
+for to-morrow morning, and we will go back to Hampshire together."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And again the rejoicing lover quoted the Laureate:
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+  "And on her lover's arm she leant,<BR>
+  And round her waist she felt it fold;<BR>
+  And far across the hills they went,<BR>
+  In that new world which is the old."<BR>
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Rorie had to walk all the way to St. Helier's. He dispatched an urgent
+message to Captain Winstanley, and then dined temperately at a French
+restaurant not far from the quay, where the <I>bon vivants</I> of Jersey are
+wont to assemble nightly. When he had dined he walked about the
+harbour, looking at the ships, and watching the lights beginning to
+glimmer from the barrack-windows, and the straggling street along the
+shore, and the far-off beacons shining out, as the rosy sunset darkened
+to purple night.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He went to the office two or three times before the return message had
+come; but at last it was handed to him, and he read it by the
+office-lamp:
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="letter">
+"<I>Captain Winstanley, Abbey House, Hampshire, to Mr. Vawdrey, St.
+Heliers</I>.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="letter">
+"My wife is seriously ill, but in no immediate danger. The doctors
+order extreme quiet; all agitation is to be carefully avoided. Let Miss
+Tempest bear this in mind when she comes home."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Roderick drove back to Les Tourelles with this message, which was in
+some respects reassuring, or at any rate afforded a certainty less
+appalling than Violet's measureless fears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Vixen was sitting on the pilgrim's bench beside the manor house
+gateway, watching for her lover's return. Oh, happy lover, to be thus
+watched for and thus welcomed; thrice, nay, a thousandfold happy in the
+certainty that she was his own for ever! He put his arm round her, and
+they wandered along the shadowy lane together, between dewy banks of
+tangled verdure, luminous with glow-worms. The stars were shining above
+the overarching roof of foliage, the harvest moon was rising over the
+distant sea.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What a beautiful place Jersey is!" exclaimed Vixen innocently, as she
+strolled lower down the lane, circled by her lover's arm. "I had no
+idea it was half so lovely. But then of course I was never allowed to
+roam about in the moonlight. And, indeed, Rorie, I think we had better
+go in directly. Miss Skipwith will be wondering."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let her wonder, love. I can explain everything when we go in. She was
+young herself once upon a time, though one would hardly give her credit
+for it; and you may depend she has walked in this lane by moonlight.
+Yes, by the light of that very same sober old moon, who has looked down
+with the same indulgent smile upon endless generations of lovers."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"From Adam and Eve to Antony and Cleopatra," suggested Vixen, who
+couldn't get Egypt out of her head.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Antony and Cleopatra were middle-aged lovers," said Rorie. "The moon
+must have despised them. Youth is the only season when love is wisdom,
+Vixen. In later life it means folly and drivelling, wrinkles badly
+hidden under paint, pencilled eyebrows, and false hair. Aphrodite
+should be for ever young."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps that's why the poor thing puts on paint and false hair when
+she finds youth departed," said Vixen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then she is no longer Aphrodite, but Venus Pandemos, and a wicked old
+harridan," answered Rorie.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And then he began to sing, with a rich full voice that rolled far upon
+the still air.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+  "Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,<BR>
+  Old Time is still a-flying;<BR>
+  And this same flower that smiles to-day<BR>
+  To-morrow will be dying,<BR>
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="poem">
+  "Then be not coy, but use your time,<BR>
+  And while ye may, go marry;<BR>
+  For having lost but once your prime,<BR>
+  You may for ever tarry."<BR>
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"What a fine voice you have, Rorie!" cried Vixen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have I really? I thought that it was only Lord Mallow who could sing.
+Do you know that I was desperately jealous of that nobleman, once&mdash;when
+I fancied he was singing himself into your affections. Little did I
+think that he was destined to become your greatest benefactor."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall make you sing duets with me, sir, by-and-by."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You shall make me stand on my head, or play clown in an amateur
+pantomime, or do anything supremely ridiculous, if you like. 'Being
+your slave what can I do&mdash;&mdash;'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, you must sing Mendelssohn with me. 'I would that my love,' and
+'Greeting.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have only one idea of greeting, after a cruel year of parting and
+sadness," said Rorie, drawing the bright young face to his own, and
+covering it with kisses.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again Vixen urged that Miss Skipwith would be wondering, and this time
+with such insistence, that Rorie was obliged to turn back and ascend
+the hill.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How cruel it is of you to snatch a soul out of Elysium," he
+remonstrated. "I felt as if I was lost in some happy dream&mdash;wandering
+down this path, which leads I know not where, into a dim wooded vale,
+such as the fairies love to inhabit?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The road leads down to the inn at Le Tac, where Cockney excursionists
+go to eat lobsters, and play skittles," said Vixen, laughing at her
+lover.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They went back to the manor house, where they found Miss Skipwith
+annotating a tremendous manuscript on blue foolscap, a work whose
+outward semblance would have been enough to frighten and deter any
+publisher in his right mind.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How late you are, Violet," she said, looking up dreamily from her
+manuscript. "I have been rewriting and polishing portions of my essay
+on Buddha. The time has flown, and I had no idea of the hour till
+Doddery came in just now to ask if he could shut up the house. And then
+I remembered that you had gone out to the gate to watch for Mr.
+Vawdrey."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid you must think our goings on rather eccentric," Rorie began
+shyly; "but perhaps Vix&mdash;&mdash;Miss Tempest has told you what old friends
+we are; that, in fact, I am quite the oldest friend she has. I came to
+Jersey on purpose to ask her to marry me, and she has been good
+enough"&mdash;smiling blissfully at Vixen, who tried to look daggers at
+him&mdash;"to say Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear me!" exclaimed Miss Skipwith, looking much alarmed; "this is very
+embarrassing. I am so unversed in such matters. My life has been given
+up to study, far from the haunts of man. My nephew informed me that
+there was a kind of&mdash;in point of fact&mdash;a flirtation between Miss
+Tempest and a gentleman in Hampshire, of which he highly disapproved,
+the gentleman being engaged to marry his cousin."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was I," cried Rorie, "but there was no flirtation between Miss
+Tempest and me. Whoever asserted such a thing was a slanderer and&mdash;&mdash;I
+won't offend you by saying what he was, Miss Skipwith. There was no
+flirtation. I was Miss Tempest's oldest friend&mdash;her old playfellow, and
+we liked to see each other, and were always friendly together. But it
+was an understood thing that I was to marry my cousin. It was Miss
+Tempest's particular desire that I should keep an engagement made
+beside my mother's death-bed. If Miss Tempest had thought otherwise, I
+should have been at her feet. I would have flung that engagement to the
+winds; for Violet Tempest is the only woman I ever loved. And now all
+the world may know it, for my cousin has jilted me, and I am a free
+man."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good gracious! Can I really believe this?" asked Miss Skipwith,
+appealing to Violet.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Rorie never told a falsehood in his life," Vixen answered proudly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I feel myself in a most critical position, my dear child," said Miss
+Skipwith, looking from Roderick's frank eager face to Vixen's downcast
+eyelids and mantling blushes. "I had hoped such a different fate for
+you. I thought the thirst for knowledge had arisen within you, that the
+aspiration to distinguish yourself from the ruck of ignorant women
+would follow the arising of that thirst, in natural sequence. And here
+I find you willing to marry a gentleman who happens to have been the
+companion of your childhood, and to resign&mdash;for his sake&mdash;all hopes of
+distinction."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My chances of distinction were so small, dear Miss Skipwith," faltered
+Vixen. "If I had possessed your talents!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"True," sighed the reformer of all the theologies. "We have not all the
+same gifts. There was a day when I thought it would be my lot to marry
+and subside into the dead level of domesticity; but I am thankful to
+think I escaped the snare."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And the gentleman who wanted to marry you, how thankful must he be!"
+thought Rorie dumbly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yet there have been moments of depression when I have been weak enough
+to regret those early days," sighed Miss Skipwith. "At best our
+strength is tempered with weakness. It is the fate of genius to be
+lonely. And now I suppose I am to lose you, Violet?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am summoned home to poor mamma," said Vixen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And after poor mamma has recovered, as I hope she speedily may, Violet
+will be wanted by her poor husband," said Rorie. "You must come across
+the sea and dance at our wedding, Miss Skipwith."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah," sighed Miss Skipwith, "if you could but have waited for the
+establishment of my universal church, what a grand ceremonial your
+marriage might have been!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Skipwith, though regretful, and inclined to take a dismal view of
+the marriage state and its responsibilities under the existing
+dispensation, was altogether friendly. She had a frugal supper of cold
+meat and salad, bread and cheese and cider, served in honour of Mr.
+Vawdrey, and they three sat till midnight talking happily&mdash;Miss
+Skipwith of theology, the other two of themselves and the smiling
+future, and such an innocent forest life as Rosalind and Orlando may
+have promised themselves, when they were deep in love, and the banished
+duke's daughter sighed for no wider kingdom than a shepherd's hut in
+the woodland, with the lover of her choice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There were plenty of spare bedrooms at the manor house, but so bare and
+empty, so long abandoned of human occupants, as to be fit only for the
+habitation of mice and spiders, stray bat or wandering owl. So Roderick
+had to walk down the hill again to St. Helier's, where he found
+hospitality at an hotel. He was up betimes, too happy to need much
+sleep, and at seven o'clock he and Vixen were walking in the dewy
+garden, planning the wonderful life they were to lead at Briarwood, and
+all the good they were to do. Happiness was to radiate from their home,
+as heat from the sun. The sick, and the halt, and the lame were to come
+to Briarwood; as they had come to the Abbey House before Captain
+Winstanley's barren rule of economy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"God has been so good to us, Rorie," said Vixen, nestling at her lover's
+side. "Can we ever be good enough to others?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We'll do our best, anyhow, little one," he answered gently. "I am not
+like Mallow, I've no great ideas about setting my native country in
+order and doing away with the poor laws; but I've always tried to make
+the people round me happy, and to keep them out of the workhouse and
+the county jail."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They went to the court-yard where poor Argus lived his life of
+isolation, and they told him they were going to be married, and that
+his pathway henceforward would be strewn with roses, or at all events
+Spratt's biscuits. He was particularly noisy and demonstrative, and
+appeared to receive this news with a wild rapture that was eminently
+encouraging, doing his best to knock Roderick down, in the tumult of
+his delight. The lovers and the dog were alike childish in their
+infinite happiness, unthinking beings of the present hour, too happy to
+look backward or forward, this little space of time called "now"
+holding all things needful for delight.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+These are the rare moments of life, to which the heart of man cries,
+"Oh stay, thou art so beautiful!" and could the death-bell toll then,
+and doom come then, life would end in a glorious euthanasia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Violet's portmanteaux were packed. All was ready. There would be just
+time for a hurried breakfast with Miss Skipwith, and then the fly from
+St. Helier's would be at the gate to carry the exile on the first stage
+of the journey home.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor mamma!" sighed Vixen. "How wicked of me to feel go happy, when
+she is ill."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And then Rorie comforted her with kindly-meant sophistries. Mrs.
+Winstanley's indisposition was doubtless more an affair of the nerves
+than a real illness. She would be cheered and revived immediately by
+her daughter's return.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How could she suppose she would be able to live without you!" cried
+Rorie. "I know I found life hard to bear."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yet you bore it for more than a year with admirable patience,"
+retorted Vixen, laughing at him; "and I do not find you particularly
+altered or emaciated."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I used to eat and drink," said Rorie, with a look of
+self-contempt. "I'm afraid I'm a horribly low-minded brute. I used even
+to enjoy my dinner, sometimes, after a long country ride; but I could
+never make you understand what a bore life was to me all last year, how
+the glory and enjoyment seemed to have gone out of existence. The
+dismal monotony of my days weighed upon me like a nightmare. Life had
+become a formula. I felt like a sick man who has to take so many doses
+of medicine, so many pills, so many basins of broth, in the twenty-four
+hours. There was no possible resistance. The sick-nurse was there, in
+the shape of Fate, ready to use brute force if I rebelled. I never did
+rebel. I assure you, Vixen, I was a model lover. Mabel and I had not a
+single quarrel. I think that is a proof that we did not care a straw
+for each other."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You and I will have plenty of quarrels," said Vixen. "It will be so
+nice to make friends again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Now came the hurried breakfast&mdash;a cup of tea drunk, standing, not a
+crumb eaten; agitated adieux to Miss Skipwith, who wept very womanly
+tears over her departing charge, and uttered good wishes in a choking
+voice. Even the Dodderys seemed to Vixen more human than usual, now
+that she was going to leave them, in all likelihood for ever. Miss
+Skipwith came to the gate to see the travellers off, and ascended the
+pilgrim's bench in order to have the latest view of the fly. From this
+eminence she waved her handkerchief as a farewell salutation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor soul!" sighed Vixen; "she has never been unkind to me; but oh!
+what a dreary life I have led in that dismal old house!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They had Argus in the fly with them, sitting up, with his mouth open,
+and his tail flapping against the bottom of the vehicle in perpetual
+motion. He kept giving his paw first to Vixen and then to Rorie, and
+exacted a great deal of attention, insomuch that Mr. Vawdrey exclaimed:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Vixen, if you don't keep that dog within bounds, I shall think him as
+great a nuisance as a stepson. I offered to marry you, you know, not
+you and your dog."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are very rude!" cried Vixen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't expect me to be polite, I hope. What is the use of marrying
+one's old playfellow if one cannot be uncivil to her now and then? To
+me you will always be the tawny-haired little girl I used to tease."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who used to tease you, you mean. You were very meek in those days."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Oh, what a happy voyage that was, over the summer sea! They sat side by
+side upon the bridge, sheltered from wind and sun, and talked the happy
+nonsense lovers talk: but which can hardly be so sweet between lovers
+whose youth and childhood have been spent far apart, as between these
+two who had been reared amidst the same sylvan world, and had every
+desire and every thought in unison. How brief the voyage seemed. It was
+but an hour or so since Roderick had been buying peaches and grapes, as
+they lay at the end of the pier at Guernsey, and here were the Needles
+and the chalky cliffs and undulating downs of the Wight. The Wight!
+That meant Hampshire and home!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How often those downs have been our weather-glass, Rorie, when we have
+been riding across the hills between Lyndhurst and Beaulieu," said
+Vixen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She had a world of questions to ask him about all that had happened
+during her exile. She almost expected to hear that Lyndhurst steeple
+had fallen; that the hounds had died of old age; that the Knightwood
+Oak had been struck by lightning; or that some among those calamities
+which time naturally brings had befallen the surroundings of her home.
+It was the strangest thing in the world to hear that nothing had
+happened, that everything was exactly the same as it had been when she
+went away. That dreary year of exile had seemed long enough for
+earthquakes and destructions, or even for slow decay.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you know what became of Arion?" asked Vixen, almost afraid to shape
+the question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I believe he was sold, soon after you left home," Rorie answered
+carelessly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sold!" echoed Vixen drearily. "Poor dear thing! Yes, I felt sure
+Captain Winstanley would sell him. But I hoped&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That some one I knew might buy him. Lord Mallow perhaps."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lord Mallow! Ah, you thought he would buy your horse, for love of the
+rider. But you see constancy isn't one of that noble Irishman's
+virtues. He loves and he rides away&mdash;when the lady won't have him, bien
+entendu. No, Arion was sent up to Tattersall's, and disposed of in the
+usual way. Some fellow bought him for a covert hack."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope the man wasn't a heavy weight," exclaimed Vixen, almost in
+tears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She thought Rorie was horribly unfeeling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What does it matter? A horse must earn his salt."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I had rather my poor pet had been shot, and buried in one of the
+meadows at home," said Vixen plaintively.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Captain Winstanley was too wise to allow that. Your poor pet fetched a
+hundred and forty-five guineas under the hammer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think it is very kind of you to talk of him so lightly," said
+Vixen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This was the only little cloud that came between them in all the
+voyage. Long before sunset they were steaming into Southampton Water,
+and the yellow light was still shining on the furzy levels, when the
+brougham that contained Vixen and her fortunes drove along the road to
+Lyndhurst.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She had asked the coachman for news of his mistress, and had been told
+that Mrs. Winstanley was pretty much the same. The answer was in some
+measure reassuring: yet Violet's spirits began to sink as she drew
+nearer home, and must so soon find herself face to face with the truth.
+There was a sadness too in that quiet evening hour; and the shadowy
+distances seemed full of gloom, after the dancing waves, and the gay
+morning light.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The dusk was creeping slowly on as the carriage passed the lodge, and
+drove between green walls of rhododendron to the house. Captain
+Winstanley was smoking his cigar in the porch, leaning against the
+Gothic masonry, in the attitude Vixen knew so well of old.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If my mother were lying in her coffin I daresay he would be just the
+same," she thought bitterly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Captain came down to open the carriage-door. Vixen's first glance
+at his face showed her that he looked worn and anxious.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is mamma very ill?" she asked tremulously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very ill," he answered, in a low voice. "Mind, you are to do or say
+nothing that can agitate her. You must be quiet and cheerful. If you
+see a change you must take care to say nothing about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why did you leave me so long in ignorance of her illness? Why did you
+not send for me sooner?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your mother has only been seriously ill within the past few days. I
+sent for you directly I saw any occasion for your presence," the
+Captain answered coldly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He now for the first time became aware of Mr. Vawdrey, who had got out
+of the brougham on the other side and came round to assist in the
+unshipment of Violet's belongings.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good evening, Mr. Vawdrey. Where in Heaven's name did you spring
+from?" he inquired, with a vexed air.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have had the honour of escorting Miss Tempest from Jersey, where I
+happened to be when she received your telegram."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wasn't that rather an odd proceeding, and likely to cause scandal?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think not; for before people can hear that Miss Tempest and I
+crossed in the same boat I hope they will have heard that Miss Tempest
+and I are going to be married."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I see," cried the Captain, with a short laugh of exceeding bitterness;
+"being off with the old love you have made haste to be on with the new."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I beg your pardon. It is no new love, but a love as old as my
+boyhood," answered Rorie. "In one weak moment of my life I was foolish
+enough to let my mother choose a wife for me, though I had made my own
+choice, unconsciously, years before."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"May I go to mamma at once?" asked Vixen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Captain said Yes, and she went up the staircase and along the
+corridor to Mrs. Winstanley's room. Oh, how dear and familiar the old
+house looked, how full of richness and colour after the bareness and
+decay of Les Tourelles; brocaded curtains hanging in heavy folds
+against the carved oaken framework of a deep-set window; gleams of
+evening light stealing through old stained glass; everywhere a rich
+variety of form and hue that filled and satisfied the eye; a house
+worth living in assuredly, with but a little love to sanctify and
+hallow all these things. But how worthless these things if discord and
+hatred found a habitation among them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The door of Mrs. Winstanley's room stood half open, and the lamplight
+shone faintly from within. Violet went softly in. Her mother was lying
+on a sofa by the hearth, where a wood-fire had been newly lighted.
+Pauline was sitting opposite her, reading aloud in a very sleepy voice
+out of the <I>Court Journal:</I> "The bride was exquisitely attired in ivory
+satin, with flounces of old <I>Duchesse</I> lace, the skirt covered with
+<I>tulle</I>, <I>bouilloné</I>, and looped with garlands of orange-blossom&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pauline," murmured the invalid feebly, "will you never learn to read
+with expression? You are giving me the vaguest idea of Lady Evelyn
+Fitzdamer's appearance."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Violet went over to the sofa and knelt by her mother's side and
+embraced her tenderly, looking at her earnestly all the while, in the
+clear soft lamp-light. Yes, there was indeed a change. The always
+delicate face was pinched and shrunken. The ivory of the complexion had
+altered to a dull gray. Premature age had hollowed the cheeks, and
+lined the forehead. It was a change that meant decline and death.
+Violet's heart sank as she beheld it: but she remembered the Captain's
+warning, and bravely strove to put on an appearance of cheerfulness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear mother, I am so happy to come home to you," she said gaily; "and
+I am going to nurse and pet you, for the next week or so; till you get
+tremendously well and strong, and are able to take me to innumerable
+parties."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear Violet, I have quite given up parties; and I shall never be
+strong again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dearest, it has always been your habit to fancy yourself an invalid."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, Violet, once I may have been full of fancies: but now I know that
+I am ill. You will not be unkind or unjust to Conrad, will you, dear?
+He sent for you directly I asked him. He has been all goodness to me.
+Try and get on with him nicely, dear, for my sake."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This was urged with such piteous supplication, that it would have
+needed a harder heart than Violet's to deny the prayer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear mother, forget that the Captain and I ever quarrelled," said
+Vixen. "I mean to be excellent friends with him henceforward. And,
+darling, I have a secret to tell you if you would like to hear it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What secret, dear?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lady Mabel Ashbourne has jilted Roderick!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My love, that is no secret. I heard all about it day before yesterday.
+People have talked of nothing else since it happened. Lady Mabel has
+behaved shamefully."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lady Mabel has behaved admirably. If other women were wise enough to
+draw back at the last moment there would be fewer unhappy marriages.
+But Lady Mabel's elopement is only the prologue to my story."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What can you mean, child?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Roderick came to Jersey to make me an offer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So soon! Oh, Violet, what bad taste!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ought he to have gone into mourning? He did not even sing willow, but
+came straight off to me, and told me he had loved me all his life; so
+now you will have my <I>trousseau</I> to think about, dearest, and I shall
+want all your good taste. You know how little I have of my own."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, Violet, if you had only married Lord Mallow! I could have given my
+whole mind to your <I>trousseau</I> then; but it is too late now, dear. I
+have not strength enough to interest myself in anything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The truth of this complaint was painfully obvious. Pamela's day was
+done. She lay, half effaced among her down pillows, as weak and
+helpless-looking as a snowdrop whose stem is broken. The life that was
+left in her was the merest remnant of life. It was as if one could see
+the last sands running down in the glass of time.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Violet sat by her side, and pressed her cold hands in both her own.
+Mrs. Winstanley was very cold, although the log had blazed up fiercely,
+and the room seemed stifling to the traveller who had come out of the
+cool night air.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear mother, there will be no pleasure for me in being married if you
+do not take an interest in my <I>trousseau</I>," pleaded Vixen, trying to
+cheer the invalid by dwelling on the things her soul had most loved in
+health.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do not talk about it, my dear," her mother exclaimed peevishly. "I
+don't know where the money is to come from. Theodore's bill was
+positively dreadful. Poor Conrad had quite a struggle to pay it. You
+will be rich when you are of age, but we are awfully poor. If we do not
+save money during the next few years we shall be destitute. Conrad says
+so. Fifteen hundred a year, and a big house like this to maintain. It
+would be starvation. Conrad has closed Theodore's account. I am sure I
+don't know where your <I>trousseau</I> is to come from."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Here the afflicted Pamela began to sob hysterically, and Vixen found it
+hard work to comfort her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dearest mother, how can you be poor and I rich?" she said, when the
+invalid had been tranquillised, and was lying helpless and exhausted.
+"Do you suppose I would not share my income with you? Rorie has plenty
+of money. He would not want any of mine. You can have it all, if you
+like."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You talk like a child, Violet. You know nothing of the world. Do you
+think I would take your money, and let people say I robbed my own
+daughter? I have a little too much self-respect for that. Conrad is
+doing all he can to make our future comfortable. I have been foolish
+and extravagant. But I shall never be so any more. I do not care about
+dress or society now. I have outlived those follies."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear mother, I cannot bear to hear you talk like that," said Vixen,
+feeling that when her mother left off caring about fine dresses she
+must be getting ready for that last garment which we must all wear some
+day, the fashion whereof changes but little. "Why should you relinquish
+society, or leave off dressing stylishly? You are in the prime of life."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, Violet, I am a poor faded creature," whimpered Mrs. Winstanley,
+"stout women are handsome at forty, or even"&mdash;with a
+shudder&mdash;"five-and-forty. The age suits their style. But I was always
+slim and fragile, and of late I have grown painfully thin. No one but a
+Parisian dressmaker could make me presentable; and I have done with
+Paris dresses. The utmost I can hope for is to sit alone by the
+fireside, and work antimacassars in crewels."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, dear mother, you did not marry Captain Winstanley in order to
+lead such a life as that? You might as well be in a <I>béguinage</I>."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Vain were Vixen's efforts to console and cheer. A blight had fallen
+upon her mother's mind and spirits&mdash;a blight that had crept slowly on,
+unheeded by the husband, till one morning the local practitioner&mdash;a
+gentleman who had lived all his life among his patients, and knew them
+so well externally that he might fairly be supposed to have a minute
+acquaintance with their internal organism&mdash;informed Captain Winstanley
+that he feared there was something wrong with his wife's heart, and
+that he thought that it would be well to get the highest opinion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Captain, startled out of his habitual self-command, looked up from
+his desk with an ashy countenance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you mean that Mrs. Winstanley has heart disease&mdash;something
+organically wrong?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Unhappily I fear it is so. I have been for some time aware that she
+had a weak heart. Her complexion, her feeble circulation, several
+indications have pointed to that conclusion. This morning I have made a
+thorough examination, and I find mischief, decided mischief."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That means she may die at any moment, suddenly, without an instant's
+warning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There would always be that fear. Or she might sink gradually from want
+of vital power. There is a sad deficiency of power. I hardly ever knew
+anyone remain so long in so low a state."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have been attending her, off and on, ever since our marriage. You
+must have seen her sinking. Why have you not warned me before?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It seemed hardly necessary. You must have perceived the change
+yourself. You must have noticed her want of appetite, her distaste for
+exertion of any kind, her increasing feebleness."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not a doctor."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; but these are things that speak plainly to every eye&mdash;to the eye
+of affection most of all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We are slow to perceive the alteration in anyone we see daily and
+hourly. You should have drawn my attention to my wife's health. It is
+unfair, it is horrible to let this blow come upon me unawares."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+If the Captain had appeared indifferent hitherto, there was no doubt of
+the intensity of his feeling now. He had started up from his chair, and
+walked backwards and forwards, strongly agitated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Shall we have another opinion?" asked Dr. Martin.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly. The highest in the land."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dr. Lorrimer, of Harley Street, is the most famous man for heart
+disease."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll telegraph to him immediately," said the Captain.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He ordered his horse, rode into Lyndhurst and dispatched his telegram
+without the loss of a minute. Never had Dr. Martin seen anyone more in
+earnest, or more deeply stricken by an announcement of evil.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor fellow, he must be very fond of her," mused the surgeon, as he
+rode off to his next call. "And yet I should have thought she must be
+rather a tiresome kind of woman to live with. Her income dies with her
+I suppose. That makes a difference."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The specialist from Harley Street arrived at the Abbey House on the
+following afternoon. He made his examination and gave his opinion,
+which was very much the same as Dr. Martin's, but clothed in more
+scientific language.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This poor lady's heart has been wearing out for the last twenty
+years," he told the local surgeon; "but she seems, from your account,
+to have been using it rather worse for the last year or so. Do you know
+if she has had any particular occasion for worry?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Her only daughter has not got on very well with the second husband, I
+believe," said Dr. Martin. "That may have worried her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Naturally. Small domestic anxieties of that kind are among the most
+potent causes of heart disease." And then Dr. Lorrimer gave his
+instructions about treatment. He had not the faintest hope of saving
+the patient, but he gave her the full benefit of his science. A man
+could scarcely come so far and do less. When he went out into the hall
+and met the Captain, who was waiting anxiously for his verdict, he
+began in the usual oracular strain; but Captain Winstanley cut him
+short without ceremony.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't want to hear details," he said. "Martin will do everything you
+tell him. I want the best or the worst you can tell me in straightest
+language. Can you save my wife, or am I to lose her?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear sir, while there is life there is hope," answered the
+physician, with the compassionate air that had grown habitual, like his
+black frock-coat and general sobriety of attire. "I have seen wonderful
+recoveries&mdash;or rather a wonderful prolongation of life, for cure is, of
+course, impossible&mdash;in cases as bad as this. But&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah!" cried the Captain, bitterly, "there is a 'but.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In this case there is a sad want of rallying power. Frankly, I have
+very little hope. Do all you can to cheer and comfort your wife's mind,
+and to make her last days happy. All medicine apart, that is about the
+best advice I can give you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After this the doctor took his fee, gave the Captain's hand a cordial
+grip, expressive of sympathy and kindliness, and went his way, feeling
+assured that a good deal hung upon that little life which he had left
+slowly ebbing away, like a narrow rivulet dwindling into dryness under
+a July sun.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What does the London doctor say of me, Conrad?" asked Mrs. Winstanley,
+when her husband went to her presently, with his countenance composed
+and cheerful. "He tired me dreadfully with his stethoscope. Does he
+think me very ill? Is there anything wrong with my lungs?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, love. It is a case of weakness and languor. You must make up your
+mind to get strong; and you will do more for yourself than all the
+physicians in London can do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But what does he say of my heart? How does he explain that dreadful
+fluttering&mdash;the suffocating sensation&mdash;the&mdash;&mdash;?'
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He explains nothing. It is a nervous affection, which you must combat
+by getting strong. Dear love!" exclaimed the Captain, with a very real
+burst of feeling, "what can I do to make your life happy? what can I do
+to assure you of my love?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Send for Violet," faltered his wife, raising herself upon her elbow,
+and looking at him with timorous eagerness. "I have never been happy
+since she left us. It seems as if I had turned her out of doors&mdash;out of
+her own house&mdash;my kind husband's only daughter. It has preyed upon my
+mind continually, that&mdash;and other things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dearest, I will telegraph to her in an hour. She shall be with you as
+soon as the steamer can bring her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A thousand thanks, Conrad. You are always good. I know I have been
+weak and foolish to think&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Here she hesitated, and tears began to roll down her hollow cheeks.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To think what, love?" asked her husband tenderly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+If love, if tenderness, if flattery, if all sweetest things that ever
+man said to a woman could lure this feeble spirit back to life, she
+should be so won, vowed the Captain. He had never been unkind to her,
+or thought unkindly of her. If he had never loved her, he had, at
+least, been tolerant. But now, clinging to her as the representative of
+fortune, happiness, social status, he felt that she was assuredly his
+best and dearest upon earth.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To think that you never really cared for me!" she whimpered; "that you
+married me for the sake of this house, and my income!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pamela, do you remember what Tom Jones said to his mistress when she
+pretended to doubt his love?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear Conrad, I never read 'Tom Jones,' I have heard dear Edward
+talk of it as if it was something too dreadful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, I forgot. Of course, it is not a lady's book. Tom told his Sophia
+to look in the glass, if she were inclined to question his love for
+her, and one look at her own sweet face would convince her of his
+truth. Let it be so with yourself, dear. Ask yourself why I should not
+love the sweetest and most lovable of women."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+If sugarplums of speech, if loverlike attentions could have cured
+Pamela Winstanley's mortal sickness, she might yet have recovered. But
+the hour had gone by when such medicaments might have prevailed. While
+the Captain had shot, and hunted, and caught mighty salmon, and
+invested his odd hundreds, and taken his own pleasure in various ways,
+with almost all the freedom of bachelor life, his wife had, unawares,
+been slowly dying. The light had burned low in the socket; and who
+shall reillumine that brief candle when its day is over? It needed now
+but a breath to quench the feeble flame.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Great Heaven!" cried Captain Winstanley, pacing up and down his study,
+distraught with the pangs of wounded self-interest; "I have been taking
+care of her money, when I ought to have taken care of her. It is her
+life that all hangs upon: and I have let that slip through my fingers
+while I have planned and contrived to save a few beggarly hundreds.
+Short-sighted idiot that I have been! Poor Pamela! And she has been so
+yielding, so compliant to my every wish! A month&mdash;a week, perhaps&mdash;and
+she will be gone: and that handsome spitfire will have the right to
+thrust me from this house. No, my lady, I will not afford you that
+triumph. My wife's coffin and I will go out together."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap10"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER X.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+"All the Rivers run into the Sea."
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+For some days Violet's return seemed to have a happy effect upon the
+invalid. Never had daughter been more devoted, more loving, fuller of
+sweet cares and consolations for a dying mother, than this daughter.
+Seeing the mother and child together in this supreme hour, no onlooker
+could have divined that these two had been ever less fondly united than
+mother and child should be. The feeble and fading woman seemed to lean
+on the strong bright girl, to gain a reflected strength from her
+fulness of life and vigour. It was as if Vixen, with her shining hair
+and fair young face, brought healthful breezes into the sickly perfumed
+atmosphere of the invalid's rooms.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Roderick Vawdrey had a hard time of it during these days of sadness and
+suspense. He could not deny the right of his betrothed to devote all
+her time and thought to a dying mother; and yet, having but newly won
+her for his very own, after dreary years of constraint and severance,
+he longed for her society as lover never longed before; or at least he
+thought so. He hung about the Abbey House all day, heedless of the
+gloomy looks he got from Captain Winstanley, and of the heavy air of
+sadness that pervaded the house, and was infinitely content and happy
+when he was admitted to Mrs. Winstanley's boudoir to take an afternoon
+cup of tea, and talk for half-an-hour or so, in subdued tones, with
+mother and daughter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am very glad that things have happened as they have, Roderick," Mrs.
+Winstanley said languidly; "though I'm afraid it would make your poor
+mamma very unhappy if she could know about it. She had so set her heart
+on your marrying Lady Mabel."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Forgetting that it was really my heart which was concerned in the
+business," said Rorie. "Dear Mabel was wise enough to show us all the
+easiest way out of our difficulties. I sent her my mother's emerald
+cross and earrings, the day before yesterday, with as pretty a letter
+as I could write. I think it was almost poetical."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And those emeralds of Lady Jane Vawdrey's are very fine," remarked
+Mrs. Winstanley. "I don't think there is a feather in one of the
+stones."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was almost like giving away your property, wasn't it, Vixen?" said
+Rorie, looking admiringly at his beloved. "But I have a lot of my
+mother's jewels for you, and I wanted to send Mabel something, to show
+her that I was not ungrateful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You acted very properly, Rorie; and as to jewellery, you know very
+well I don't care a straw for it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is a comfort to me to know you will have Lady Jane's pearl
+necklace," murmured Mrs. Winstanley. "It will go so well with my
+diamond locket. Ah, Rorie, I wish I had been strong enough to see to
+Violet's <I>trousseau</I>. It is dreadful to think that it may have to be
+made by a provincial dressmaker, and with no one to supervise and
+direct."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dearest mother, you are going to supervise everything," exclaimed
+Vixen. "I shall not think of being married till you are well and strong
+again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That will be never," sighed the invalid.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Upon this point she was very firm. They all tried&mdash;husband, daughter,
+and friends&mdash;to delude her with false hopes, thinking thus to fan the
+flame of life and keep the brief candle burning a little longer. She
+was not deceived. She felt herself gradually, painlessly sinking. She
+complained but little; much less than in the days when her ailments had
+been in some part fanciful; but she knew very surely that her day was
+done.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is very sweet to have you with me, Violet," she said. "Your
+goodness, and Conrad's loving attentions, make me very happy. I feel
+almost as if I should like to live a few years longer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Only almost, mother darling?" exclaimed Violet reproachfully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know, dear. I have such a weary feeling; as if life at the
+very best were not worth the trouble it cost us. I shouldn't mind going
+on living if I could always lie here, and take no trouble about
+anything, and be nursed and waited upon, and have you or Conrad always
+by my side&mdash;but to get well again, and to have to get up, and go about
+among other people, and take up all the cares of life&mdash;no dear, I am
+much too weary for that. And then if I could get well to-morrow, old
+age and death would still be staring me in the face. I could not escape
+them. No, love, it is much better to die now, before I am very old, or
+quite hideous; even before my hair is gray."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She took up one of the soft auburn tresses from her pillow, and looked
+at it, half sadly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your dear papa used to admire my hair, Violet," she said. "There are a
+few gray hairs, but you would hardly notice them; but my hair is much
+thinner than it used to be, and I don't think I could ever have made up
+my mind to wear false hair. It never quite matches one's own. I have
+seen Lady Ellangowan wearing three distinct heads of hair; and yet
+gentlemen admire her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Winstanley was always at her best during those afternoon
+tea-drinkings. The strong tea revived her; Roderick's friendly face and
+voice cheered her. They took her back to the remote past, to the kind
+Squire's day of glory, which she remembered as the happiest time of her
+life; even now, when her second husband was doing all things possible
+to prove his sincerity and devotion. She had never been completely
+happy in this second marriage. There had always been a flavour of
+remorse mingled with her cup of joy; the vague consciousness that she
+had done a foolish thing, and that the world&mdash;her little world within a
+radius of twenty miles&mdash;was secretly laughing at her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you remember the day we came home from our honeymoon, Conrad," she
+said to her husband, as he sat by her in the dusk one evening, sad and
+silent, "when there was no carriage to meet us, and we had to come home
+in a fly? It was an omen, was it not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"An omen of what, dearest?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That all things were not to go well with us in our married life; that
+we were not to be quite happy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you not been happy, Pamela? I have tried honestly to do my duty
+to you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know you have, Conrad. You have been all goodness; I always have
+said so to Violet&mdash;and to everyone. But I have had my cares. I felt
+that I was too old for you. That has preyed upon my mind."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Was that reasonable, Pamela, when I have never felt it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps not at first; and even if you had felt the disparity in our
+ages you would have been too generous to let me perceive the change in
+your feelings. But I should have grown an old woman while you were
+still a young man. It would have been too dreadful. Indeed, dear, it is
+better as it is. Providence is very good to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Providence is not very good to me, in taking you from me," said the
+Captain, with a touch of bitterness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It seemed to him passing selfish in his wife to be so resigned to
+leaving life, and so oblivious of the fact that her income died with
+her, and that he was to be left out in the cold. One evening, however,
+when they were sitting alone together, this fact presented itself
+suddenly to her mind.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will lose the Abbey House when I am gone, Conrad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My love, do you think I could live in this house without you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And my income, Conrad; that dies with me, does it not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, love."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is hard for you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can bear that, Pamela, if I am to bear the loss of you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dearest love, you have always been disinterested. How could I ever
+doubt you? Perhaps&mdash;indeed I am sure&mdash;if I were to ask Violet, she
+would give you the fifteen hundred a year that I was to have had after
+she came of age."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pamela, I could not accept any favour from your daughter. You would
+deeply offend me if you were to suggest such a thing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This was true. Much as he valued money, he would have rather starved
+than taken sixpence from the girl who had scorned him; the girl whose
+very presence gave rise to a terrible conflict in his
+breast&mdash;passionate love, bitterest antagonism.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There are the few things that I possess myself&mdash;jewels, books,
+furniture&mdash;special gifts of dear Edward's. Those are my own, to dispose
+of as I like. I might make a will leaving them to you, Conrad. They are
+trifles, but&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They will be precious <I>souvenirs</I> of our wedded life," murmured the
+Captain, who was very much of Mr. Wemmick's opinion, that portable
+property of any kind was worth having.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A will was drawn up and executed next day, in which Mrs. Winstanley
+left her diamonds to her daughter, her wardrobe to the faithful and
+long-suffering Pauline&mdash;otherwise Mary Smith&mdash;and all the rest of her
+belongings to her dearly-beloved husband, Conrad Winstanley. The
+Captain was a sufficient man of business to take care that this will
+was properly executed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In all this time his daily intercourse with Violet was a source of
+exceeding bitterness. She was civil, and even friendly in her manner to
+him&mdash;for her mother's sake. And then, in the completeness of her union
+with Rorie, she could afford to be generous and forgiving. The old
+spirit of antagonism died out: her foe was so utterly fallen. A few
+weeks and the old home would be her own&mdash;the old servants would come
+back, the old pensioners might gather again around the kitchen-door.
+All could be once more as it had been in her father's lifetime; and no
+trace of Conrad Winstanley's existence would be left; for, alas! it was
+now an acknowledged fact that Violet's mother was dying. The most
+sanguine among her friends had ceased to hope. She herself was utterly
+resigned. She spent some part of each day in gentle religious exercises
+with kindly Mr. Scobel. Her last hours were as calm and reasonable as
+those of Socrates.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So Captain Winstanley had to sit quietly by, and see Violet and her
+lover grouped by his fading wife's sofa, and school himself, as he best
+might, to endure the spectacle of their perfect happiness in each
+other's love, and to know that he&mdash;who had planned his future days so
+wisely, and provided, like the industrious ant, for the winter of his
+life&mdash;had broken down in his scheme of existence, after all, and had no
+more part in this house which he had deemed his own than a traveller at
+an inn.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was hard, and he sat beside his dying wife, with anger and envy
+gnawing his heart&mdash;anger against fate, envy of Roderick Vawdrey, who
+had won the prize. If evil wishes could have killed, neither Violet nor
+her lover would have outlived that summer. Happily the Captain was too
+cautious a man to be guilty of any overt act of rage or hatred. His
+rancorous feelings were decently hidden under a gentlemanly iciness of
+manner, to which no one could take objection.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The fatal hour came unawares, one calm September afternoon, about six
+weeks after Violet's return from Jersey. Captain Winstanley had been
+reading one of Tennyson's idyls to his wife, till she sank into a
+gentle slumber. He left her, with Pauline seated at work by one of the
+windows, and went to his study to write some letters. Five o'clock was
+the established hour for kettledrum, but of late the invalid had been
+unable to bear even the mild excitement of two or three visitors at
+this time. Violet now attended alone to her mother's afternoon tea,
+kneeling by her side as she sipped the refreshing infusion, and coaxing
+her to eat a waferlike slice of bread-and-butter, or a few morsels of
+sponge-cake.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This afternoon, when Violet went softly into the room, carrying the
+little Japanese tray and tiny teapot, she found her mother lying just
+as the Captain had left her an hour before.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She's been sleeping so sweetly, miss," whispered Pauline. "I never
+knew her sleep so quiet since she's been ill."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+That stillness which seemed so good a thing to the handmaid frightened
+the daughter. Violet set her tray down hastily on the nearest table,
+and ran to her mother's sofa. She looked at the pale and sunken cheek,
+just visible in the downy hollow of the pillows; she touched the hand
+lying on the silken coverlet. That marble coldness, that waxen hue of
+the cheek, told her the awful truth. She fell on her knees beside the
+sofa, with a cry of sharp and sudden sorrow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh mother, mother! I ought to have loved you better all my life!"
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap11"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XI.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+The Bluebeard Chamber.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+The day before the funeral Captain Winstanley received a letter from
+his stepdaughter, offering to execute any deed he might choose to have
+prepared, settling upon him the income which his wife was to have had
+after Violet's majority.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="letter">
+"I know that you are a heavy loser by my mother's death," she wrote,
+"and I shall be glad to do anything in my power to lessen that loss. I
+know well that it was her earnest wish that your future should be
+provided for. I told her a few days before she died that I should make
+you this offer. I do it with all my heart; and I shall consider myself
+obliged by your acceptance of it."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+The Captain's reply was brief and firm.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="letter">
+"I thank you for your generous offer," he said, "which I feel assured
+is made in good faith; but I think you ought to know that there are
+reasons why it is impossible I should accept any benefit from your
+hand. I shall not re-enter the Abbey House after my wife's funeral. You
+will be sole and sovereign mistress of all things from that hour."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+He kept his word. He was chief mourner at the quiet but stately burial
+under the old yew-tree in Beechdale churchyard. When all was over he
+got into a fly, and drove to the station at Lyndhurst Road, whence he
+departed by the first train for London. He told no one anything about
+his plans for the future; he left no address but his club. He was next
+heard of six months later, in South America.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Violet had telegraphed to her old governess directly after Mrs.
+Winstanley's death; and that good and homely person arrived on the day
+after the funeral, to take up her abode with her old pupil, as
+companion and chaperon, until Miss Tempest should have become Mrs.
+Vawdrey, and would have but one companion henceforward in all the
+journey of life. Rorie and Vixen were to be married in six months. Mrs.
+Winstanley had made them promise that her death should delay their
+marriage as little as possible.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You can have a very quiet wedding, you know, dear," she said. "You can
+be married in your travelling-dress&mdash;something pretty in gray silk and
+terry velvet, or with chinchilla trimming, if it should be winter.
+Chinchilla is so distinguished-looking. You will go abroad, I suppose,
+for your honeymoon. Pau, or Monaco, or any of those places on the
+Mediterranean."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It had pleased her to settle everything for the lovers. Violet
+remembered all these speeches with a tender sorrow. There was comfort
+in the thought that her mother had loved her, according to her lights.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It had been finally settled between the lovers that they were to live
+at the Abbey House. Briarwood was to be let to any wealthy individual
+who might desire a handsome house, surrounded by exquisitely arranged
+gardens, and burdened with glass that would cost a small fortune
+annually to maintain. Before Mr. Vawdrey could put his property into
+the hands of the auctioneers, he received a private offer which was in
+every respect satisfactory.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Mallow wished to spend some part of every year near her father and
+mother, who lived a good deal at Ashbourne, the Duke becoming yearly
+more devoted to his Chillingham oxen and monster turnips. Lord Mallow,
+who loved his native isle to distraction, but always found six weeks in
+a year a sufficient period of residence there, was delighted to please
+his bride, and agreed to take Briarwood, furnished, on a seven-years'
+lease. The orchid-houses were an irresistible attraction, and by this
+friendly arrangement Lady Mallow would profit by the alterations and
+improvements her cousin had made for her gratification, when he
+believed she was to be his wife.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Briarwood thus disposed of, Rorie was free to consider the Abbey House
+his future home; and Violet had the happiness of knowing that the good
+old house in which her childhood had been spent would be her habitation
+always, till she too was carried to the family vault under the old
+yew-tree. There are people who languish for change, for whom the newest
+is ever the best; but it was not thus with Violet Tempest. The people
+she had known all her life, the scenes amidst which she had played when
+a child, were to her the dearest people and the loveliest scenes upon
+earth. It would be pleasant to her to travel with her husband, and see
+fair lands across the sea: but pleasanter still would be the
+home-coming to the familiar hearth beside which her father had sat, the
+old faces that had looked upon him, the hands that had served him, the
+gardens he had planted and improved.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should like to show you Briarwood before it is let, Vixen," Mr.
+Vawdrey said to his sweetheart, one November morning. "You may at least
+pay my poor patrimony the compliment of looking at it before it becomes
+the property of Lord and Lady Mallow. Suppose you and Miss McCroke
+drive over and drink tea with me this afternoon? I believe my
+housekeeper brews pretty good tea."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very well, Rorie, we'll come to tea. I should rather like to see the
+improvements you made for Lady Mabel, before your misfortune. I think
+Lord Mallow must consider it very good of you to let him have the
+benefit of all the money you spent, instead of bringing an action for
+breach of promise against his wife, as you might very well have done."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I daresay. But you see I am of a forgiving temper. Well, I shall tell
+my housekeeper to have tea and buns, and jam, and all the things
+children&mdash;and young ladies&mdash;like, at four o'clock. We had better make
+it four instead of five, as the afternoons are so short."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you are impertinent we won't come."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh yes you will. Curiosity will bring you. Remember this will be your
+last chance of seeing the Bluebeard chamber at Briarwood."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is there a Bluebeard chamber?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course. Did you ever know of a family mansion without one?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Vixen was delighted at the idea of exploring her lover's domain, now
+that he and it were her own property. How well she remembered going
+with her father to the meet on Briarwood lawn. Yet it seemed a century
+ago&mdash;the very beginning of her life&mdash;before she had known sorrow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss McCroke, who was ready to do anything her pupil desired, was
+really pleased at the idea of seeing the interior of Briarwood.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have never been inside the doors, you know, dear," she said, "often
+as I have driven past the gates with your dear mamma. Lady Jane Vawdrey
+was not the kind of person to invite a governess to go and see her. She
+was a strict observer of the laws of caste. The Duchess has much less
+pride."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think Lady Jane ever quite forgave herself for marrying a
+commoner," said Vixen. "She revenged her own weakness upon other
+people."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Violet had a new pair of ponies, which her lover had chosen for her,
+after vain endeavours to trace and recover the long-lost Titmouse.
+These she drove to Briarwood, Miss McCroke resigning herself to the
+will of Providence with a blind submission worthy of a Moslem; feeling
+that if it were written that she was to be flung head foremost out of a
+pony-carriage, the thing would happen sooner or later. Staying at home
+to-day would not ward off to-morrow's doom. So she took her place in
+the cushioned valley by Violet's side, and sat calm and still, while
+the ponies, warranted quiet to drive in single or double harness, stood
+up on end and made as if they had a fixed intention of scaling the
+rhododendron bank.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They'll settle down directly I've taken the freshness out of them,"
+said Vixen, blandly, as she administered a reproachful touch of the
+whip.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope they will," replied Miss McCroke; "but don't you think Bates
+ought to have seen the freshness taken out of them before we started?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They were soon tearing along the smooth Roman road at a splendid pace,
+"the ponies going like clockwork," as Vixen remarked approvingly; but
+poor Miss McCroke thought that any clock which went as fast as those
+ponies would be deemed the maddest of timekeepers.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They found Roderick standing at his gates, waiting for them. There was
+a glorious fire in the amber and white drawing-room, a dainty tea table
+drawn in front of the hearth, the easiest of chairs arranged on each
+side of the table, an urn hissing, Rorie's favourite pointer stretched
+upon the hearth, everything cosy and homelike. Briarwood was not such a
+bad place after all, Vixen thought. She could have contrived to be
+happy with Roderick even here; but of course the Abbey House was, in
+her mind, a hundred times better, being just the one perfect home in
+the world.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They all three sat round the fire, drinking tea, poured out by Vixen,
+who played the mistress of the house sweetly. They talked of old times,
+sometimes sadly, sometimes sportively, glancing swiftly from one old
+memory to another. All Rorie's tiresome ways, all Vixen's mischievous
+tricks, were remembered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think I led you a life in those days, didn't I, Rorie?" asked Vixen,
+leaving the teatray, and stealing softly behind her lover's chair to
+lean over his shoulder caressingly, and pull his thick brown beard.
+"There is nothing so delightful as to torment the person one loves best
+in the world. Oh, Rorie, I mean to lead you a life by-and-by!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dearest, the life you lead me must needs be sweet, for it will be
+spent with you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After tea they set out upon a round of inspection, and admired the new
+morning-room that had been devised for Lady Mabel, in the very latest
+style of Dutch Renaissance&mdash;walls the colour of muddy water, glorified
+ginger-jars, ebonised chairs and tables, and willow-pattern plates all
+round the cornice; curtains mud-colour, with a mediaeval design in
+dirty yellow, or, in upholsterer's language, "old gold."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should like to show you the stables before it is quite dark," said
+Rorie presently. "I made a few slight improvements there while the
+builders were about."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You know I have a weakness for stables," answered Vixen. "How many a
+lecture I used to get from poor mamma about my unfortunate tastes. But
+can there be anything in the world nicer than a good old-fashioned
+stable, smelling of clover and newly-cut hay?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Stables are very nice indeed, and very useful, in their proper place,"
+remarked Miss McCroke sententiously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But one ought not to bring the stables into the drawing-room," said
+Vixen gravely. "Come, Rorie, let us see your latest improvements in
+stable-gear."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They all went out to the stone-paved quadrangle, which was as neatly
+kept as a West-End livery-yard. Miss McCroke had an ever-present dread
+of the ubiquitous hind-legs of strange horses: but she followed her
+charge into the stable, with the same heroic fidelity with which she
+would have followed her to the scaffold or the stake.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There were all Rorie's old favourites&mdash;Starlight Bess, with her shining
+brown coat, and one white stocking; Blue Peter, broad-chested,
+well-ribbed, and strong of limb; Pixie, the gray Arab mare, which Lady
+Jane used to drive in a park-phaeton&mdash;quite an ancient lady; Donald,
+the iron-sinewed hunter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Vixen knew them all, and went up to them and patted their graceful
+heads, and made herself at home with them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are all coming to the Abbey House to live, you dear things," she
+said delightedly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a loose-box, shut off by a five-foot wainscot partition,
+surmounted by a waved iron rail, at one end of the stable, and on
+approaching this enclosure Vixen was saluted with sundry grunts and
+snorting noises, which seemed curiously familiar.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At the sound of these she stopped short, turning red, and then pale,
+and looked intently at Rorie, who was standing close by, smiling at her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is my Bluebeard chamber," he said gaily. "There's something too
+awful inside."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What horse have you got there?" cried Vixen eagerly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A horse that I think will carry you nicely, when we hunt together."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What horse? Have I ever seen him? Do I know him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The grunts and snortings were continued with a crescendo movement; an
+eager nose was rattling the latch of the door that shut off the
+loose-box.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you have a good memory for old friends, I think you will know this
+one," said Rorie, withdrawing a bolt.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A head pushed open the door, and in another moment Vixen's arms were
+round her old favourite's sleek neck, and the velvet nostrils were
+sniffing her hair and cheek, in most loving recognition.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You dear, dear old fellow!" cried Vixen; and then turning to Rorie:
+"You told me he was sold at Tattersall's!" she exclaimed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So he was, and I bought him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why did you not tell me that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because you did not ask me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I thought you so unkind, so indifferent about him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You were unkind when you could think it possible I should let your
+favourite horse fall into strange hands. But perhaps you would rather
+Lord Mallow had bought him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To think that you should have kept the secret all this time!" said
+Vixen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You see I am not a woman, and can keep a secret. I wanted to have one
+little surprise for you, as a reward when you had been especially good.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are good," she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him. "And though I
+have loved you all my life, I don't think I have loved you the least
+little bit too much."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="epilogue"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+EPILOGUE.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Vixen and Rorie were married in the spring, when the forest glades were
+yellow with primroses, the mossy banks blue with violets, and the
+cuckoo was heard with monotonous iteration from sunrise to sundown.
+They were married in the little village church at Beechdale, and Mrs.
+Scobel declared that Miss Tempest's wedding was the prettiest that ever
+had been solemnised in that small Gothic temple. Never, perhaps, even
+at Eastertide, had been seen such a wealth of spring blossoms, the
+wildlings of the woods and hills. The Duchess had offered the contents
+of her hot-houses, Lady Ellangowan had offered waggon-loads of azaleas
+and camellias, but Vixen had refused them all. She would allow no
+decorations but the wild flowers which the school-children could
+gather. Primroses, violets, bluebells, the firstlings of the fern
+tribe, cowslips, and all the tribe of innocent forest blossoms, with
+their quaint rustic names, most of them as old as Shakespeare.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was a very quiet wedding. Vixen would have no one present except the
+Scobels, Miss McCroke, her two bridesmaids, and Sir Henry Tolmash, an
+old friend of her father, who was to give her away. He was a
+white-haired old man, who had given his latter days up to farming, and
+had not a thought above turnips and top-dressing; but Violet honoured
+him, because he had been her father's oldest friend. For bride-maids
+she had Colonel Carteret's daughters, a brace of harmless young ladies,
+whose conversation was as stereotyped as a French and English
+vocabulary, but who dressed well and looked pretty.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was no display of wedding gifts, no ceremonious wedding
+breakfast. Vixen remembered the wedding feast at her mother's second
+marriage, and what a dreary ceremonial it had been.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The bride wore her gray silk travelling-dress, with gray hat and
+feather, and she and her husband went straight from the church to the
+railway station, on their way to untrodden paths in the Engadine,
+whence they were to return at no appointed time.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We are coming back when we are tired of mountain scenery and of each
+other," Violet told Mrs. Scobel in the church porch.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That will be never!" exclaimed Rorie, looking ineffably happy, but not
+very much like a bride-groom, in his comfortable gray suit. "You might
+just as well say that we are going to live among the mountains as long
+as Rip Van Winkle. No, Mrs. Scobel, we are not going to remain away
+from you fifty years. We are coming back in time for the hunting."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then came kissing and handshaking, a shower of violets and primroses
+upon the narrow churchyard path, a hearty huzza from the assembled
+village, all clustered about the oaken gate-posts. The envious
+carriage-door shut in bride and bride-groom, the coachman touched his
+horses, and they were gone up the hill, out of the peaceful valley, to
+Lyndhurst and the railway.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How dreadfully I shall miss them," said Mrs. Scobel, who had spent
+much of her leisure with the lovers. "They are both so full of life and
+brightness!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They are young and happy!" said her husband quietly. "Who would not
+miss youth and happiness?"
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+When the first frosts had seared the beeches to a fiery red, and the
+berries were bright on the hawthorns, and the latest bloom of the
+heather had faded on hill and plain, and the happy pigs had devoured
+all the beech-nuts, Mr. Vawdrey and his wife came back from their
+exploration of Alpine snows and peaceful Swiss villages, to the good
+old Abbey House. Their six months' honeymoon had been all gladness.
+They were the veriest boy and girl husband and wife who had ever
+trodden those beaten tracks. They teased each other, and quarrelled,
+and made friends again like children, and were altogether happy. And
+now they came back to the Forest, bronzed by many a long day's
+sunshine, and glowing with health and high spirits. The glass of Time
+seemed to be turned backwards at the Abbey House; for all the old
+servants came back, and white-haired old Bates ruled in the well-filled
+stables, and all things were as in the dead and gone Squire's time.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Among Roderick's wedding gifts was one from Lord Mallow: Bullfinch, the
+best horse in that nobleman's stable.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"I know your wife would like you to have her father's favourite
+hunter," wrote Lord Mallow. "Tell her that he has never been sick or
+sorry since he has been in my stable, and that I have always taken
+particular care of him, for her sake."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Among Violet's presents was a diamond bracelet from Lady Mallow,
+accompanied by a very cordial letter; and almost the first visit that
+the Vawdreys received after they came home was from Lord and Lady
+Mallow. The first great dinner to which they were bidden was at
+Briarwood, where it seemed a curious thing for Rorie to go as a guest.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Matrimony with the man of her choice had wondrously improved Mabel
+Ashbourne. She was less self-sufficient and more conciliating. Her
+ambition, hitherto confined to the desire to excel all other women in
+her own person, had assumed a less selfish form. She was now only
+ambitious for her husband; greedy of parliamentary fame for him; full
+of large hopes about the future of Ireland. She looked forward
+complacently to the day when she and Lord Mallow would be reigning at
+Dublin Castle, and when Hibernian arts and industries would revive and
+flourish under her fostering care. Pending that happy state of things
+she wore Irish poplin, and Irish lace, Irish stockings, and Irish
+linen. She attended Her Majesty's Drawing-room on St. Patrick's Day,
+with a sprig of real shamrock&mdash;sent her by one of her husband's
+tenantry&mdash;among the diamonds that sparkled on her bosom. She was more
+intensely Irish than the children of the soil; just as converts to
+Romanism are ever more severely Roman than those born and nurtured in
+the faith.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her husband was intensely proud of his wife, and of his alliance with
+the house of Ashbourne. The Duke, at first inclined to resent the
+scandal of an elopement and the slight offered to his favourite, Rorie,
+speedily reconciled himself to a marriage which was more materially
+advantageous than the cousinly alliance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should like Rorie to have had Ashbourne," he said mournfully. "I
+think he would have kept up my breed of Chillingham cattle. Mallow's a
+good fellow, but he knows nothing about farming. He'll never spend
+enough money on manure to maintain the soil at its present producing
+power. The grasp of his mind isn't large enough to allow him to sink
+his money in manuring his land. He would be wanting to see an immediate
+result."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As time went on the Duke became more and more devoted to his farm. His
+Scottish castle delighted him not, nor the grand old place in the
+Midlands. Ashbourne, which was the pleasure-dome he had built for
+himself, contained all he cared about. Too heavy and too lazy to hunt,
+he was able to jog about his farm, and supervise the work that was
+going on, to the smallest detail. There was not a foot of drain-pipe or
+a bit of thatch renewed on the whole estate, without the Duke having a
+finger in the pie. He bred fat oxen and prize cart-horses, and made a
+great figure at all the cattle-shows, and was happy. The Duchess, who
+had never believed her paragon capable of wrong-doing, had been
+infinitely shocked by Lady Mabel's desperate course; but it was not in
+her nature to be angry with that idolised daughter. She very soon came
+back to her original idea, that whatever Mabel Ashbourne did was right.
+And then the marriage was so thoroughly happy; and the world gladly
+forgives a scandal that ends so pleasantly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So Lord and Lady Mallow go their way&mdash;honoured, beloved, very active in
+good works&mdash;and the pleasant valleys around Mallow are dotted with red
+brick school-houses, and the old stone hovels are giving place to model
+cottages, and native industries receive all possible encouragement from
+the owner of the soil; and, afar off, in the coming years, the glories
+of Dublin Castle shine like the Pole Star that guides the wanderer on
+his way.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In one thing only has Lady Mallow been false to the promise of her
+girlhood. She has not achieved success as a poet. The Duchess wonders
+vaguely at this, for though she had often found it difficult to keep
+awake during the rehearsal of her daughter's verses, she had a fixed
+belief in the excellence of those efforts of genius. The secret of Lady
+Mallow's silence rests between her husband and herself; and it is just
+possible that some too candid avowal of Lord Mallow's may be the reason
+of her poetic sterility. It is one thing to call the lady of one's
+choice a tenth muse before marriage, and another thing to foster a
+self-delusion in one's wife which can hardly fail to become a
+discordant element in domestic life. "If your genius had developed, and
+you had won popularity as a poet, I should have lost a perfect wife,"
+Lord Mallow told Mabel, when he wanted to put things pleasantly.
+"Literature has lost a star; but I have gained the noblest and sweetest
+companion Providence ever bestowed upon man." Lady Mallow has not
+degenerated into feminine humdrum. She assists in the composition of
+her husband's political pamphlets, which bristle with lines from
+Euripides, and noble thoughts from the German poets. She writes a good
+many of his letters, and is altogether his second self.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+While the Irishman and his wife pursue their distinguished career,
+Rorie and Vixen live the life they love, in the Forest where they were
+born, dispensing happiness within a narrow circle, but dearly loved
+wheresoever they are known; and the old men and women in the scattered
+villages round about the Abbey House rejoice in the good old times that
+have come again; just as hearty pleasure-loving England was glad when
+the stern rule of the Protector and his crop-headed saints gave place
+to the reign of the Merry King.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+From afar there comes news of Captain Winstanley, who has married a
+Jewish lady at Frankfort, only daughter and heiress of a well-known
+money-lender. The bride is reported ugly and illiterate; but there is
+no doubt as to her fortune. The Captain has bought a villa at Monaco&mdash;a
+villa in the midst of orange-groves, the abandoned plaything of an
+Austrian princess; and he has hired an apartment in one of the new
+avenues, just outside the Arc de Triomphe, where, as his friends
+anticipate, he will live in grand style, and receive the pleasantest
+people in Paris. He, too, is happy after his kind, and has won the
+twenty-thousand-pound prize in the lottery of life; but it is
+altogether a different kind of happiness from the simple and unalloyed
+delight of Rorie and Vixen, in their home among the beechen woods whose
+foliage sheltered them when they were children.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H3>
+THE END.
+</H3>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H4>
+PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER.
+</H4>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<PRE>
+Transcriber's note: Typographical errors silently corrected:
+
+volume 3 chapter 1: =an instant's delay?= replaced by
+                    =an instant's delay,=
+
+chapter 1: =latest fashion?= replaced by =latest fashion.=
+
+chapter 3: =like the Squires= replaced by =like the Squire's=
+
+epilogue: =young and happy!= replaced by =young and happy!"=
+</PRE>
+
+<BR><BR><BR><BR>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Vixen, Volume III., by M. E. Braddon
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIXEN, VOLUME III. ***
+
+***** This file should be named 26238-h.htm or 26238-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/2/3/26238/
+
+Produced by Daniel Fromont.  HTML version by Al Haines.
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+
+</pre>
+
+</BODY>
+
+</HTML>
+
+
diff --git a/26238.txt b/26238.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3dfdff7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26238.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,6911 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Vixen, Volume III., by M. E. Braddon
+
+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: Vixen, Volume III.
+
+Author: M. E. Braddon
+
+Release Date: August 9, 2008 [EBook #26238]
+[Last updated: July 2, 2013]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIXEN, VOLUME III. ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Daniel Fromont.  HTML version by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+COLLECTION
+
+OF
+
+BRITISH AUTHORS
+
+
+TAUCHNITZ EDITION.
+
+
+VOL. 1811.
+
+VIXEN BY M. E. BRADDON
+
+IN THREE VOLUMES.
+
+VOL. III.
+
+
+
+
+VIXEN
+
+
+A NOVEL
+
+
+BY
+
+M.  E. BRADDON,
+
+AUTHOR OF "LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET," ETC. ETC.
+
+
+_COPYRIGHT EDITION_.
+
+
+IN THREE VOLUMES.
+
+VOL. III.
+
+
+LEIPZIG
+
+BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ
+
+1879.
+
+
+_The Right of Translation is reserved_.
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+OF VOLUME III.
+
+
+CHAPTER I. Going into Exile
+
+CHAPTER II. Chiefly Financial
+
+CHAPTER III. "With weary Days thou shalt be clothed and fed"
+
+CHAPTER IV. Love and AEsthetics
+
+CHAPTER V. Crumpled Rose-Leaves
+
+CHAPTER VI. A Fool's Paradise
+
+CHAPTER VII. "It might have been"
+
+CHAPTER VIII. Wedding Bells
+
+CHAPTER IX. The nearest Way to Norway
+
+CHAPTER X. "All the Rivers run into the Sea"
+
+CHAPTER XI. The Bluebeard Chamber
+
+Epilogue
+
+
+
+VIXEN.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+Going into Exile.
+
+After a long sleepless night of tossing to and fro, Vixen rose with the
+first stir of life in the old house, and made herself ready to face the
+bleak hard world. Her meditations of the night had brought no new light
+to her mind. It was very clear to her that she must go away--as far as
+possible--from her old home. Her banishment was necessary for
+everybody's sake. For the sake of Rorie, who must behave like a man of
+honour, and keep his engagement with Lady Mabel, and shut his old
+playfellow out of his heart. For the sake of Mrs. Winstanley, who could
+never be happy while there was discord in her home; and last of all,
+for Violet herself, who felt that joy and peace had fled from the Abbey
+House for ever, and that it would be better to be anywhere, in the
+coldest strangest region of this wide earth, verily friendless and
+alone among strange faces, than here among friends who were but friends
+in name, and among scenes that were haunted with the ghosts of dead
+joys.
+
+She went round the gardens and shrubberies in the early morning,
+looking sadly at everything, as if she were bidding the trees and
+flowers a long farewell. The rhododendron thickets were shining with
+dew, the grassy tracks in that wilderness of verdure were wet and cold
+under Vixen's feet. She wandered in and out among the groups of wild
+growing shrubs, rising one above another to the height of forest trees,
+and then she went out by the old five-barred gate which Titmouse used
+to jump so merrily, and rambled in the plantation till the sun was
+high, and the pines began to breathe forth their incense as the day-god
+warmed them into life.
+
+It was half-past eight. Nine was the hour for breakfast, a meal at
+which, during the Squire's time, the fragile Pamela had rarely
+appeared, but which, under the present _regime_, she generally graced
+with her presence. Captain Winstanley was an early riser, and was not
+sparing in his contempt for sluggish habits.
+
+Vixen had made up her mind never again to sit at meat with her
+stepfather; so she went straight to her own den, and told Phoebe to
+bring her a cup of tea.
+
+"I don't want anything else," she said wearily when the girl suggested
+a more substantial breakfast; "I should like to see mamma presently. Do
+you know if she has gone down?"
+
+"No, miss. Mrs. Winstanley is not very well this morning. Pauline has
+taken her up a cup of tea."
+
+Vixen sat idly by the open window, sipping her tea, and caressing
+Argus's big head with a listless hand, waiting for the next stroke of
+fate. She was sorry for her mother, but had no wish to see her. What
+could they say to each other--they, whose thoughts and feelings were so
+wide apart? Presently Phoebe came in with a little three-cornered note,
+written in pencil.
+
+"Pauline asked me to give you this from your ma, miss."
+
+The note was brief, written in short gasps, with dashes between them.
+
+
+"I feel too crushed and ill to see you--I have told Conrad what you
+wish--he is all goodness--he will tell you what we have decided--try to
+be worthier of his kindness--poor misguided child--he will see you in
+his study, directly after breakfast--pray control your unhappy temper."
+
+
+"His study, indeed!" ejaculated Vixen, tearing up the little note and
+scattering its perfumed fragments on the breeze; "my father's room,
+which he has usurped. I think I hate him just a little worse in that
+room than anywhere else--though that would seem hardly possible, when I
+hate him so cordially everywhere."
+
+She went to the looking-glass, and surveyed herself proudly as she
+smoothed her shining hair, resolved that he should see no indication of
+trouble or contrition in her face. She was very pale, but her tears of
+last night had left no traces. There was a steadiness in her look that
+befitted an encounter with an enemy. A message came from the Captain,
+while she was standing before her glass, tying a crimson ribbon under
+the collar of her white morning-dress.
+
+Would she please to go to Captain Winstanley in the study? She went
+without an instant's delay, walked quietly into the room, and stood
+before him silently as he sat at his desk writing.
+
+"Good-morning, Miss Tempest," he said, looking up at her with his
+blandest air; "sit down, if you please. I want to have a chat with you."
+
+Vixen seated herself in her father's large crimson morocco chair. She
+was looking round the room absently, dreamily, quite disregarding the
+Captain. The dear old room was full of sadly sweet associations. For
+the moment she forgot the existence of her foe. His cold level tones
+recalled her thoughts from the lamented past to the bitter present.
+
+"Your mother informs me that you wish to leave the Abbey House," he
+began; "and she has empowered me to arrange a suitable home for you
+elsewhere. I entirely concur in your opinion that your absence from
+Hampshire for the next year or so will be advantageous to yourself and
+others. You and Mr. Vawdrey have contrived to get yourselves
+unpleasantly talked about in the neighbourhood. Any further scandal may
+possibly be prevented by your departure."
+
+"It is not on that account I wish to leave home," said Vixen proudly.
+"I am not afraid of scandal. If the people hereabouts are so wicked
+that they cannot see me riding by the side of an old friend for two or
+three days running without thinking evil of him and me, I am sorry for
+them, but I certainly should not regulate my life to please them. The
+reason I wish to leave the Abbey House is that I am miserable here, and
+have been ever since you entered it as its master. We may as well deal
+frankly with each other in this matter. You confessed last night that
+you hated me. I acknowledge to-day that I have hated you ever since I
+first saw you. It was an instinct."
+
+"We need not discuss that," answered the Captain calmly. He had let
+passion master him last night, but he had himself well in hand to-day.
+She might be as provoking as she pleased, but she should not provoke
+him to betray himself as he had done last night. He detested himself
+for that weak outbreak of passion.
+
+"Have you arranged with my mother for my leaving home?" inquired Vixen.
+
+"Yes, it is all settled."
+
+"Then I'll write at once to Miss McCroke. I know she will leave the
+people she is with to travel with me."
+
+"Miss McCroke has nothing to do with the question. You roaming about
+the world with a superannuated governess would be too preposterous. I
+am going to take you to Jersey by this evening's boat. I have an aunt
+living there who has a fine old manor house, and who will be happy to
+take charge of you. She is a maiden lady, a woman of superior
+cultivation, who devotes herself wholly to intellectual pursuits. Her
+refining influence will be valuable to you. The island is lovely, the
+climate delicious. You could not be better off than you will be at Les
+Tourelles."
+
+"I am not going to Jersey, and I am not going to your intellectual
+aunt," said Vixen resolutely.
+
+"I beg your pardon, you are going, and immediately. Your mother and I
+have settled the matter between us. You have expressed a wish to leave
+home, and you will be pleased to go where we think proper. You had
+better tell Phoebe to pack your trunks. We shall leave here at ten
+o'clock in the evening. The boat starts from Southampton at midnight."
+
+Vixen felt herself conquered. She had stated her wish, and it was
+granted; not in the mode and manner she had desired; but perhaps she
+ought to be grateful for release from a home that had become loathsome
+to her, and not take objection to details in the scheme of her exile.
+To go away, quite away, and immediately, was the grand point. To fly
+before she saw Rorie again.
+
+"Heaven knows how weak I might be if he were to talk to me again as he
+talked last night!" she said to herself. "I might not be able to bear
+it a second time. Oh Rorie, if you knew what it cost me to counsel you
+wisely, to bid you do your duty; when the vision of a happy life with
+you was smiling at me all the time, when the warm grasp of your dear
+hand made my heart thrill with joy, what a heroine you would think me!
+And yet nobody will ever give me credit for heroism; and I shall be
+remembered only as a self-willed young woman, who was troublesome to
+her relations, and had to be sent away from home."
+
+She was thinking this while she sat in her father's chair, deliberating
+upon the Captain's last speech. She decided presently to yield, and
+obey her mother and stepfather. After all, what did it matter where she
+went? That scheme of being happy in Sweden with Miss McCroke was but an
+idle fancy. In the depths of her inner consciousness Violet Tempest
+knew that she could be happy nowhere away from Rorie and the Forest.
+What did it matter, then, whether she went to Jersey or Kamtchatka, the
+sandy desert of Gobi or the Mountains of the Moon? In either case exile
+meant moral death, the complete renunciation of all that had been sweet
+and precious in her uneventful young life--the shadowy beech-groves;
+the wandering streams; the heathery upland plains; the deep ferny
+hollows, where the footsteps of humanity were almost unknown; the
+cluster of tall trees on the hill tops, where the herons came sailing
+home from their flight across Southampton Water; her childhood's
+companion; her horse; her old servants. Banishment meant a long
+farewell to all these.
+
+"I suppose I may take my dog with me?" she asked, after a long pause,
+during which she had wavered between submission and revolt, "and my
+maid?"
+
+"I see no objection to your taking your dog; though I doubt whether my
+aunt will care to have a dog of that size prowling about her house. He
+can have a kennel somewhere, I daresay. You must learn to do without a
+maid. Feminine helplessness is going out of fashion; and one would
+expect an Amazon like you to be independent of lady's-maids and
+milliners."
+
+"Why don't you state the case in plain English?" cried Vixen
+scornfully. "If I took Phoebe with me she would cost money. There would
+be her wages and maintenance to be provided. If I leave her behind, you
+can dismiss her. You have a fancy for dismissing old servants."
+
+"Had you not better see to the packing of your trunks?" asked Captain
+Winstanley, ignoring this shaft.
+
+"What is to become of my horse?"
+
+"I think you must resign yourself to leave him to fate and me," replied
+the Captain coolly; "my aunt may submit to the infliction of your dog,
+but that she should tolerate a young lady's roaming about the island on
+a thoroughbred horse would be rather too much to expect from her
+old-fashioned notions of propriety."
+
+"Besides, even Arion would cost something to keep," retorted Vixen,
+"and strict economy is the rule of your life. If you sell him--and, of
+course, you will do so--please let Lord Mallow have the refusal of him.
+I think he would buy him and treat him kindly, for my sake."
+
+"Wouldn't you rather Mr. Vawdrey had him?"
+
+"Yes, if I were free to give him away; but I suppose you would deny my
+right of property even in the horse my father gave me."
+
+"Well, as the horse was not specified in your father's will, and as all
+his horses and carriages were left to your mother, I think there cannot
+be any doubt that Arion is my wife's property."
+
+"Why not say your property? Why give unnatural prominence to a cipher?
+Do you think I hold my poor mother to blame for any wrong that is done
+to me, or to others, in this house? No, Captain Winstanley, I have no
+resentment against my mother. She is a blameless nullity, dressed in
+the latest fashion."
+
+"Go and pack your boxes!" cried the Captain angrily. "Do you want to
+raise the devil that was raised last night? Do you want another
+conflagration? It might be a worse one this time. I have had a night of
+fever and unrest."
+
+"Am I to blame for that?'
+
+"Yes--you beautiful fury. It was your image kept me awake. I shall
+sleep sounder when you are out of this house."
+
+"I shall be ready to start at ten o'clock," said Vixen, in a
+business-like tone which curiously contrasted this sudden gust of
+passion on the part of her foe, and humiliated him to the dust. He
+loathed himself for having let her see her power to hurt him.
+
+She left him, and went straight upstairs to her room, and gave Phoebe
+directions about the packing of her portmanteaux, with no more outward
+semblance of emotion than she might have shown had she been starting on
+a round of pleasant visits under the happiest circumstances. The
+faithful Phoebe began to cry when she heard that Miss Tempest was going
+away for a long time, and that she was not to go with her; and poor
+Vixen had to console her maid instead of brooding upon her own griefs.
+
+"Never mind, Phoebe," she said; "it is as hard for me to lose you as it
+is for you to lose me. I shall never forget what a devoted little thing
+you have been, and all the muddy habits you have brushed without a
+murmur. A few years hence I shall be my own mistress, and have plenty
+of money, and then, wherever I may be, you shall come to me. If you are
+married you shall be my housekeeper, and your husband shall be my
+butler, and your children shall run wild about the place, and be made
+as much of as the litter of young foxes Bates reared in a corner of the
+stable-yard, when Mr. Vawdrey was at Eton."
+
+"Oh, miss, I don't want no husband nor no children, I only want you for
+my missus. And when you come of age, will you live here, miss?"
+
+"No, Phoebe. The Abbey House will belong to mamma all her life. Poor
+mamma! may it be long before the dear old house comes to me. But when I
+am of age, and my own mistress I shall find a place somewhere in the
+Forest, you may be sure of that, Phoebe."
+
+Phoebe dried her honest tears, and made haste with the packing,
+believing that Miss Tempest was leaving home for her own pleasure, and
+that she, Phoebe, was the only victim of adverse fate.
+
+The day wore on quickly, though it was laden with sorrow. Vixen had a
+great deal to do in her den; papers to look over, old letters,
+pen-and-ink sketches, and scribblings of all kinds to destroy, books
+and photographs to pack. There were certain things she could not leave
+behind her. Then there was a melancholy hour to spend in the stable,
+feeding, caressing, and weeping over Arion, who snorted his tenderest
+snorts, and licked her hands with abject devotion--almost as if he knew
+they were going to part, Vixen thought.
+
+Last of all came the parting with her mother. Vixen had postponed this
+with an aching dread of a scene, in which she might perchance lose her
+temper, and be betrayed into bitter utterances that she would
+afterwards repent with useless tears. She had spoken the truth to her
+stepfather when she told him that she held her mother blameless; yet
+the fact that she had but the smallest share in that mother's heart was
+cruelly patent to her.
+
+It was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon when Pauline came to
+Violet's room with a message from Mrs. Winstanley. She had been very
+ill all the morning, Pauline informed Miss Tempest, suffering severely
+from nervous headache, and obliged to lie in a darkened room. Even now
+she was barely equal to seeing anyone.
+
+"Then she had better not see me," said Vixen icily; "I can write her a
+little note to say good-bye. Perhaps it would be just as well. Tell
+mamma that I will write, Pauline."
+
+Pauline departed with this message, and returned in five minutes with a
+distressed visage.
+
+"Oh, miss!" she exclaimed, "your message quite upset your poor mamma.
+She said, 'How could she?' and began to get almost hysterical. And
+those hysterical fits end in such fearful headaches."
+
+"I will come at once," said Vixen.
+
+Mrs. Winstanley was lying on a sofa near an open window, the Spanish
+blinds lowered to exclude the afternoon sunshine, the perfume of the
+gardens floating in upon the soft summer air. A tiny teapot and cup and
+saucer on a Japanese tray showed that the invalid had been luxuriating
+in her favourite stimulant. There were vases of flowers about the room,
+and an all-pervading perfume and coolness--a charm half sensuous, half
+aesthetic.
+
+"Violet, how could you send me such a message?" remonstrated the
+invalid fretfully.
+
+"Dear mamma, I did not want to trouble you. I know how you shrink from
+all painful things; and you and I could hardly part without pain, as we
+are parting to-day. Would it not have been better to avoid any
+farewell?"
+
+"If you had any natural affection, you would never have suggested such
+a thing."
+
+"Then perhaps I have never had any natural affection," answered Vixen,
+with subdued bitterness; "or only so small a stock that it ran out
+early in my life, and left me cold and hard and unloving. I am sorry we
+are parting like this, mamma. I am still more sorry that you could not
+spare me a little of the regard which you have bestowed so lavishly
+upon a stranger."
+
+"Violet, how can you?" sobbed her mother. "To accuse me of withholding
+my affection from you, when I have taken such pains with you from your
+very cradle! I am sure your frocks, from the day you were short-coated,
+were my constant care; and when you grew a big, lanky girl, who would
+have looked odious in commonplace clothes, it was my delight to invent
+picturesque and becoming costumes for you. I have spent hours poring
+over books of prints, studying Vandyke and Sir Peter Lely, and I have
+let you wear some of my most valuable lace; and as for indulgence of
+your whims! Pray when have I ever thwarted you in anything?"
+
+"Forgive me, mamma!" cried Vixen penitently. She divined dimly--even in
+the midst of that flood of bitter feeling in which her young soul was
+overwhelmed--that Mrs. Winstanley had been a good mother, according to
+her lights. The tree had borne such fruit as was natural to its kind.
+"Pray forgive me! You have been good and kind and indulgent, and we
+should have gone on happily together to the end of the chapter, if fate
+had been kinder."
+
+"It's no use your talking of fate in that way, Violet," retorted her
+mother captiously. "I know you mean Conrad."
+
+"Perhaps I do, mamma; but don't let us talk of him any more. We should
+never agree about him. You and he can be quite happy when I am gone.
+Poor, dear, trusting, innocent-minded mamma!" cried Vixen, kneeling by
+her mother's chair, and putting her arms round her ever so tenderly.
+"May your path of life be smooth and strewn with flowers when I am
+gone. If Captain Winstanley does not always treat you kindly, he will
+be a greater scoundrel than I think him. But he has always been kind to
+you, has he not, mamma? You are not hiding any sorrow of yours from
+me?' asked Vixen, fixing her great brown eyes on her mother's face with
+earnest inquiry. She had assumed the maternal part. She seemed an
+anxious mother questioning her daughter.
+
+"Kind to me," echoed Mrs. Winstanley. "He has been all goodness. We
+have never had a difference of opinion since we were married."
+
+"No, mamma, because you always defer to his opinion."
+
+"Is not that my duty, when I know how clever and far-seeing he is?"
+
+"Frankly, dear mother, are you as happy with this new husband of
+yours--so wise and far-seeing, and determined to have his own way in
+everything--as you were with my dear, indulgent, easy-tempered father?"
+
+Pamela Winstanley burst into a passion of tears.
+
+"How can you be so cruel?" she exclaimed. "Who can give back the past,
+or the freshness and brightness of one's youth? Of course I was happier
+with your dear father than I can ever be again. It is not in nature
+that it should be otherwise. How could you be so heartless as to ask me
+such a question?"
+
+She dried her tears slowly, and was not easily comforted. It seemed as
+if that speech of Violet's had touched a spring that opened a fountain
+of grief.
+
+"This means that mamma is not happy with her second husband, in spite
+of her praises of him," thought Vixen.
+
+She remained kneeling by her mother's side comforting her as best she
+could, until Mrs. Winstanley had recovered from the wound her
+daughter's heedless words had inflicted, and then Violet began to say
+good-bye.
+
+"You will write to me sometimes, won't you, mamma, and tell me how the
+dear old place is going on, and about the old people who die--dear
+familiar white heads that I shall never see again--and the young people
+who get married, and the babies that are born? You will write often,
+won't you, mamma?"
+
+"Yes, dear, as often as my strength will allow."
+
+"You might even get Pauline to write to me sometimes, to tell me how
+you are and what you are doing; that would be better than nothing."
+
+"Pauline shall write when I am not equal to holding a pen," sighed Mrs.
+Winstanley.
+
+"And, dear mamma, if you can prevent it, don't let any more of the old
+servants be sent away. If they drop off one by one home will seem like
+a strange place at last. Remember how they loved my dear father, how
+attached and faithful they have been to us. They are like our own flesh
+and blood."
+
+"I should never willingly part with servants who know my ways, Violet.
+But as to Bates's dismissal--there are some things I had rather not
+discuss with you--I am sure that Conrad acted for the best, and from
+the highest motives."
+
+"Do you know anything about this place to which I am going, mamma?"
+asked Vixen, letting her mother's last speech pass without comment; "or
+the lady who is to be my duenna?"
+
+"Your future has been fully discussed between Conrad and me, Violet. He
+tells me that the old Jersey manor house--Les Tourelles it is
+called--is a delightful place, one of the oldest seats in Jersey, and
+Miss Skipwith, to whom it belongs, is a well-informed conscientious old
+lady, very religious, I believe, so you will have to guard against your
+sad habit of speaking lightly about sacred things, my dear Violet."
+
+"Do you intend me to live there for ever, mamma?"
+
+"For ever! What a foolish question. In six years you will be of age,
+and your own mistress."
+
+"Six years--six years in a Jersey manor house--with a pious old lady.
+Don't you think that would seem very much like for ever, mamma?" asked
+Vixen gravely.
+
+"My dear Violet, neither Conrad nor I want to banish you from your
+natural home. We only want you to learn wisdom. When Mr. Vawdrey is
+married, and when you have learnt to think more kindly of my dear
+husband----"
+
+"That last change will never happen to me, mamma. I should have to die
+and be born again first, and, even then, I think my dislike of Captain
+Winstanley is so strong that purgatorial fires would hardly burn it
+out. No, mamma, we had better say good-bye without any forecast of the
+future. Let us forget all that is sad in our parting, and think we are
+only going to part for a little while."
+
+Many a time in after days did Violet Tempest remember those last
+serious words of hers. The rest of her conversation with her mother was
+about trifles, the trunks and bonnet-boxes she was to carry with
+her--the dresses she was to wear in her exile.
+
+"Of course in a retired old house in Jersey, with an elderly maiden
+lady, you will not see much society," said Mrs. Winstanley; "but Miss
+Skipwith must know people--no doubt the best people in the island--and
+I should not like you to be shabby. Are you really positive that you
+have dresses enough to carry you over next winter?"
+
+This last question was asked with deepest solemnity.
+
+"More than enough, mamma."
+
+"And do you think your last winter's jacket will do?"
+
+"Excellently."
+
+"I'm very glad of that," said her mother, with a sigh of relief, "for I
+have an awful bill of Theodore's hanging over my head. I have been
+paying her sums on account ever since your poor papa's death; and you
+know that is never quite satisfactory. All that one has paid hardly
+seems to make any difference in the amount due at the end."
+
+"Don't worry yourself about your bill, mamma. Let it stand over till I
+come of age, and then I can help you to pay it."
+
+"You are very generous, dear; but Theodore would not wait so long, even
+for me. Be sure you take plenty of wraps for the steamer. Summer nights
+are often chilly."
+
+Vixen thought of last night, and the long straight ride through the
+pine wood, the soft scented air, the young moon shining down at her,
+and Rorie by her side. Ah, when should she ever know such a summer
+night as that again?
+
+"Sit down in this low chair by me, and have a cup of tea, dear," said
+Mrs. Winstanley, growing more affectionate as the hour of parting drew
+nearer. "Let us have kettledrum together for the last time, till you
+come back to us."
+
+"For the last time, mamma!" echoed Violet sadly.
+
+She could not imagine any possible phase of circumstances that would
+favour her return. Could she come back to see Roderick Vawdrey happy
+with his wife? Assuredly not. Could she school herself to endure life
+under the roof that sheltered Conrad Winstanley? A thousand times no.
+Coming home was something to be dreamt about when she lay asleep in a
+distant land; but it was a dream that never could be realised. She must
+make herself a new life, somehow, among new people. The old life died
+to-day.
+
+She sat and sipped her tea, and listened while her mother talked
+cheerfully of the future, and even pretended to agree; but her heart
+was heavy as lead.
+
+An hour was dawdled away thus, and then, when Mrs. Winstanley began to
+think about dressing for dinner, Vixen went off to finish her packing.
+She excused herself from going down to dinner on the plea or having so
+much to do.
+
+"You could send me up something, please, mamma," she said. "I am sure
+you and Captain Winstanley will dine more pleasantly without me. I
+shall see you for a minute in the hall, before I start."
+
+"You must do as you please, dear," replied her mother. "I hardly feel
+equal to going down to dinner myself; but it would not be fair to let
+Conrad eat a second meal in solitude, especially when we are to be
+parted for two or three days and he is going across the sea. I shall
+not have a minute's rest to-night, thinking of you both."
+
+"Sleep happily, dear mother, and leave us to Providence. The voyage
+cannot be perilous in such weather as this," said Vixen, with assumed
+cheerfulness.
+
+Two hours later the carriage was at the door, and Violet Tempest was
+ready to start. Her trunks were on the roof of the brougham, her
+dressing-bag, and travelling-desk, and wraps were stowed away inside;
+Argus was by her side, his collar provided with a leather strap, by
+which she could hold him when necessary. Captain Winstanley was smoking
+a cigar on the porch.
+
+Mrs. Winstanley came weeping out of the drawing-room, and hugged her
+daughter silently. Violet returned the embrace, but said not a word
+till just at the last.
+
+"Dear mother," she whispered earnestly, "never be unhappy about me. Let
+me bear the blame of all that has gone amiss between us."
+
+"You had better be quick, Miss Tempest, if you want to be in time for
+the boat," said the Captain from the porch.
+
+"I am quite ready," answered Vixen calmly.
+
+Phoebe was at the carriage-door, tearful, and in everybody's way, but
+pretending to help. Argus was sent up to the box, where he sat beside
+the coachman with much gravity of demeanour, having first assured
+himself that his mistress was inside the carriage. Mrs. Winstanley
+stood in the porch, kissing her hand; and so the strong big horses bore
+the carriage away, through the dark shrubberies, between banks of
+shadowy foliage, out into the forest-road, which was full of ghosts at
+this late hour, and would have struck terror to the hearts of any
+horses unaccustomed to its sylvan mysteries.
+
+They drove through Lyndhurst, where the twinkling little lights in the
+shop-windows were being extinguished by envious shutters, and where the
+shop-keepers paused in their work of extinction to stare amazedly at
+the passing carriage; not that a carriage was a strange apparition in
+Lyndhurst, but because the inhabitants had so little to do except stare.
+
+Anon they came to Bolton's Bench, beneath a cluster of pine-trees on a
+hilly bit of common, and then the long straight road to Southampton lay
+before them in the faint moonshine, with boggy levels, black
+furze-bushes, and a background of wood on either side. Violet sat
+looking steadily out of the window, watching every bit of the road. How
+could she tell when she would see it again--or if ever, save in sad
+regretful dreams?
+
+They mounted the hill, from whose crest Vixen took one last backwards
+look at the wide wild land that lay behind them--a look of ineffable
+love and longing. And then she threw herself back in the carriage, and
+gave herself up to gloomy thought. There was nothing more that she
+cared to see. They had entered the tame dull world of civilisation.
+They drove through the village of Eling, where lights burned dimly here
+and there in upper windows; they crossed the slow meandering river at
+Redbridge. Already the low line of lights in Southampton city began to
+shine faintly in the distance. Violet shut her eyes and let the
+landscape go by. Suburban villas, suburban gardens on a straight road
+beside a broad river with very little water in it. There was nothing
+here to regret.
+
+It was past eleven when they drove under the old bar, and through the
+high street of Southampton. The town seemed strange to Vixen at this
+unusual hour. The church clocks were striking the quarter. Down by the
+docks everything had a gray and misty look, sky and water
+indistinguishable. There lay the Jersey boat, snorting and puffing,
+amidst the dim grayness. Captain Winstanley conducted his charge to the
+ladies' cabin, with no more words than were positively necessary. They
+had not spoken once during the drive from the Abbey House to
+Southampton.
+
+"I think you had better stay down here till the vessel has started, at
+any rate," said the Captain, "there will be so much bustle and
+confusion on deck. I'll take care of your dog."
+
+"Thanks," answered Vixen meekly. "Yes, I'll stay here--you need not
+trouble yourself about me."
+
+"Shall I send you something? A cup of tea, the wing of a chicken, a
+little wine and water?"
+
+"No, thanks, I don't care about anything."
+
+The Captain withdrew after this to look after the luggage, and to
+secure his own berth. The stewardess received Violet as if she had
+known her all her life, showed her the couch allotted to her, and to
+secure which the Captain had telegraphed that morning from Lyndhurst.
+
+"It was lucky your good gentleman took the precaution to telegraph,
+mum," said the cordial stewardess; "the boats are always crowded at
+this time of the year, and the _Fanny_ is such a favourite."
+
+The cabin was wide and lofty and airy, quite an exceptional thing in
+ladies' cabins; but presently there came a troop of stout matrons with
+their olive-branches, all cross and sleepy, and dazed at finding
+themselves in a strange place at an unearthly hour. There was the usual
+sprinkling of babies, and most of the babies cried. One baby was
+afflicted with unmistakable whooping cough, and was a source of terror
+to the mothers of all the other babies. There was a general opening of
+hand-bags and distribution of buns, biscuits, and sweeties for the
+comfort and solace of this small fry. Milk was imbibed noisily out of
+mysterious bottles, some of them provided with gutta-percha tubes,
+which made the process of refreshment look like laying on gas. Vixen
+turned her back upon the turmoil, and listened to the sad sea waves
+plashing lazily against the side of the boat.
+
+She wondered what Rorie was doing at this midnight hour? Did he know
+yet that she was gone--vanished out of his life for ever? No; he could
+hardly have heard of her departure yet awhile, swiftly as all tidings
+travelled in that rustic world of the Forest. Had he made up his mind
+to keep faith with Lady Mabel? Had he forgiven Vixen for refusing to
+abet him in treachery against his affianced?
+
+"Poor Rorie," sighed the girl; "I think we might have been happy
+together."
+
+And then she remembered the days of old, when Mr. Vawdrey was free, and
+when it had never dawned upon his slow intelligence that his old
+playfellow, Violet Tempest, was the one woman in all this wide world
+who had the power to make his life happy.
+
+"I think he thought lightly of me because of all our foolishness when
+he was a boy," mused Vixen. "I seemed to him less than other
+women--because of those old sweet memories--instead of more."
+
+It was a dreary voyage for Violet Tempest--a kind of maritime
+purgatory. The monotonous thud of the engine, the tramping of feet
+overhead, the creaking and groaning of the vessel, the squalling
+babies, the fussy mothers, the dreadful people who could not travel
+from Southampton to Jersey on a calm summer night without exhibiting
+all the horrors of seasickness. Vixen thought of the sufferings of poor
+black human creatures in the middle passage, of the ghastly terrors of
+a mutiny, of a ship on fire, of the Ancient Mariner on his slimy sea,
+when
+
+  The very deep did rot; O Christ,
+  That ever this should be;
+  Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
+  Upon the slimy sea!
+
+
+She wondered in her weary soul whether these horrors, which literature
+had made familiar to her, were much worse than the smart white and gold
+cabin of the good ship _Fanny_, filled to overflowing with the contents
+of half-a-dozen nurseries.
+
+Towards daybreak there came a lull. The crossest of the babies had
+exhausted its capacity for making its fellow-creatures miserable. The
+sea-sick mothers and nurses had left off groaning, and starting
+convulsively from their pillows, with wild shrieks for the stewardess,
+and had sunk into troubled slumbers. Vixen turned her back upon the
+dreadful scene--dimly lighted by flickering oil-lamps, like those that
+burn before saintly shrines in an old French cathedral--and shut her
+eyes and tried to lose herself in the tangled wilderness of sleep. But
+to-night that blessed refuge of the unhappy was closed against her. The
+calm angel of sleep would have nothing to do with a soul so troubled.
+She could only lie staring at the port-hole, which stared back at her
+like a giant's dark angry eye, and waiting for morning.
+
+Morning came at last, with the skirmishing toilets of the children,
+fearful struggles for brushes and combs, towel fights, perpetual
+clamour for missing pieces of soap, a great deal of talk about strings
+and buttons, and a chorus of crying babies. Then stole through the
+stuffy atmosphere savoury odours of breakfast, the fumes of coffee,
+fried bacon, grilled fish. Sloppy looking cups of tea were administered
+to the sufferers of last night. The yellow sunshine filled the cabin.
+Vixen made a hasty toilet, and hurried up to the deck. Here all was
+glorious. A vast world of sunlit water. No sign yet of rock-bound
+island above the white-crested waves. The steamer might have been in
+the midst of the Atlantic. Captain Winstanley was on the bridge,
+smoking his morning cigar. He gave Violet a cool nod, which she
+returned as coolly. She found a quiet corner where she could sit and
+watch the waves slowly rising and falling, the white foam-crests slowly
+gathering, the light spray dashing against the side of the boat, the
+cataract of white roaring water leaping from the swift paddle-wheel and
+melting into a long track of foam. By-and-by they came to Guernsey,
+which looked grim and military, and not particularly inviting, even in
+the morning sunlight. That picturesque island hides her beauties from
+those who only behold her from the sea. Here there was an exodus of
+passengers, and of luggage, and an invasion of natives with baskets of
+fruit. Vixen bought some grapes and peaches of a female native in a
+cap, whose patois was the funniest perversion of French and English
+imaginable. And then a bell rang clamorously, and there was a general
+stampede, and the gangway was pulled up and the vessel was steaming
+gaily towards Jersey; while Vixen sat eating grapes and looking
+dreamily skyward, and wondering whether her mother was sleeping
+peacefully under the dear old Abbey House roof, undisturbed by any pang
+of remorse for having parted with an only child so lightly.
+
+An hour or so and Jersey was in sight, all rocky peaks and
+promontories. Anon the steamer swept round a sudden curve, and lo,
+Vixen beheld a bristling range of fortifications, a rather untidy
+harbour, and the usual accompaniments of a landing-place, the midsummer
+sun shining vividly upon the all pervading whiteness.
+
+"Is this the bay that some people have compared to Naples?" Violet
+asked her conductor, with a contemptuous curl of her mobile lip, as she
+and Captain Winstanley took their seats in a roomy old fly, upon which
+the luggage was being piled in the usual mountainous and
+insecure-looking style.
+
+"You have not seen it yet from the Neapolitan point of view," said the
+Captain. "This quay is not the prettiest bit of Jersey."
+
+"I am glad of that, very glad," answered Vixen acidly; "for if it were,
+the Jersey notion of the beautiful would be my idea of ugliness. Oh
+what an utterly too horrid street!" she cried, as the fly drove through
+the squalid approach to the town, past dirty gutter-bred children, and
+women with babies, who looked to the last degree Irish, and the dead
+high wall of the fortifications. "Does your aunt live hereabouts, _par
+exemple_, Captain Winstanley?"
+
+"My aunt lives six good miles from here, Miss Tempest, in one of the
+loveliest spots in the island, amidst scenery that is almost as fine as
+the Pyrenees."
+
+"I have heard people say that of anything respectable in the shape of a
+hill," answered Vixen, with a dubious air.
+
+She was in a humour to take objection to everything, and had a flippant
+air curiously at variance with the dull aching of her heart. She was
+determined to take the situation lightly. Not for worlds would she have
+let Captain Winstanley see her wounds, or guess how deep they were. She
+set her face steadily towards the hills in which her place of exile was
+hidden, and bore herself bravely. Conrad Winstanley gave her many a
+furtive glance as he sat opposite her in the fly, while they drove
+slowly up the steep green country lanes, leaving the white town in the
+valley below them.
+
+"The place is not so bad, after all," said Vixen, looking back at the
+conglomeration of white walls and slate roofs, of docks and shipping,
+and barracks, on the edge of a world of blue water, "not nearly so
+odious as it looked when we landed. But it is a little disappointing at
+best, like all places that people praise ridiculously. I had pictured
+Jersey as a tropical island, with cactuses and Cape jasmine growing in
+the hedges, orchards of peaches and apricots, and melons running wild."
+
+"To my mind the island is a pocket edition of Devonshire with a dash of
+Brittany," answered the Captain. "There's a fig-tree for you!" he
+cried, pointing to a great spreading mass of five-fingered leaves
+lolloping over a pink plastered garden-wall--an old untidy tree that
+had swallowed up the whole extent of a cottager's garden. "You don't
+see anything like that in the Forest."
+
+"No," answered Vixen, tightening her lips; "we have only oaks and
+beeches that have been growing since the Heptarchy."
+
+And now they entered a long lane, where the interlaced tree-tops made
+an arcade of foliage--a lane whose beauty even Vixen could not gainsay.
+Ah, there were the Hampshire ferns on the steep green banks! She gave a
+little choking sob at sight of them, as if they had been living things.
+Hart's-tongue, and lady-fern, and the whole family of osmundas. Yes;
+they were all there. It was like home--with a difference.
+
+Here and there they passed a modern villa, in its park-like grounds,
+and the Captain, who evidently wished to be pleasant, tried to expound
+to Violet the conditions of Jersey leases, and the difficulties which
+attend the purchase of land or tenements in that feudal settlement. But
+Vixen did not even endeavour to understand him. She listened with an
+air of polite vacancy which was not encouraging.
+
+They passed various humbler homesteads, painted a lively pink, or a
+refreshing lavender, with gardens where the fuchsias were trees covered
+with crimson bloom, and where gigantic hydrangeas bloomed in palest
+pink and brightest azure in wildest abundance. Here Vixen beheld for
+the first time those preposterous cabbages from whose hyper-natural
+growth the islanders seem to derive a loftier pride than from any other
+productions of the island, not excepting its grapes and its lobsters.
+
+"I don't suppose you ever saw cabbages growing six feet high before,"
+said the Captain.
+
+"No," answered Vixen; "they are too preposterous to be met with in a
+civilised country. Poor Charles the Second! I don't wonder that he was
+wild and riotous when he came to be king."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because he had spent several months of exile among his loyal subjects
+in Jersey. A man who had been buried alive in such a fragmentary bit of
+the world must have required some compensation in after life."
+
+They had mounted a long hill which seemed the pinnacle of the island,
+and from whose fertile summit the view was full of beauty--a green
+undulating garden-world, ringed with yellow sands and bright blue sea;
+and now they began to descend gently by a winding lane where again the
+topmost elm-branches were interwoven, and where the glowing June day
+was softened to a tender twilight. A curve in the lane brought them
+suddenly to an old gateway, with a crumbling stone bench in a nook
+beside it--a bench where the wayfarer used to sit and wait for alms,
+when the site of Les Tourelles was occupied by a monastery.
+
+The old manor house rose up behind the dilapidated wall--a goodly old
+house as to size and form--overlooking a noble sweep of hillside and
+valley; a house with a gallery on the roof for purposes of observation,
+but with as dreary and abandoned a look about its blank curtainless
+windows as if mansion and estate had been in Chancery for the last
+half-century.
+
+"A fine old place, is it not?" asked the Captain, while a cracked bell
+was jingling in remote distance, amidst the drowsy summer stillness,
+without eliciting so much as the bark of a house-dog.
+
+"It looks very big," Violet answered dubiously, "and very empty."
+
+"My aunt has no relatives residing with her."
+
+"If she had started in life with a large family of brothers and
+sisters, I should think they would all be dead by this time," said the
+girl, with a stifled yawn that was half a sigh.
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"They would have died of the stillness and solitude and all-pervading
+desolation of Les Tourelles."
+
+"Strange houses are apt to look desolate."
+
+"Yes. Particularly when the windows have neither blinds nor curtains,
+and the walls have not been painted for a century."
+
+After this conversation flagged. The jingling bell was once more set
+going in the unknown distance; Vixen sat looking sleepily at the arched
+roof of foliage chequered with blue sky. Argus lolled against the
+carriage-door with his tongue out.
+
+They waited five minutes or so, languidly expectant. Vixen began to
+wonder whether the gates would ever open--whether there were really any
+living human creatures in that blank dead-looking house--whether they
+would not have to give up all idea of entering, and drive back to the
+harbour, and return to Hampshire by the way they had come.
+
+While she sat idly wondering thus, with the sleepy buzz of summer
+insects and melodious twittering of birds soothing her senses like a
+lullaby, the old gate groaned upon its rusty hinges, and a middle-aged
+woman in a black gown and a white cap appeared--a female who recognised
+Captain Winstanley with a curtsey, and came out to receive the smaller
+packages from the flyman.
+
+"Antony will take the portmanteaux," she said; "the boat must have come
+in earlier than usual. We did not expect you so soon."
+
+"This is one of Miss Skipwith's servants," thought Vixen; "rather a
+vinegary personage. I hope the other maids are nicer."
+
+The person spoken of as Antony now appeared, and began to hale about
+Violet's portmanteaux. He was a middle-aged man, with a bald head and a
+melancholy aspect. His raiment was shabby; his costume something
+between that of a lawyer's clerk and an agricultural labourer. Argus
+saluted this individual with a suppressed growl.
+
+"Sh!" cried the female vindictively, flapping her apron at the dog,
+"whose dog is this, sir? He doesn't belong to you, surely?"
+
+"He belongs to Miss Tempest. You must find a corner for him somewhere
+in the outbuildings, Hannah," said the Captain. "The dog is harmless
+enough, and friendly enough when he is used to people."
+
+"That won't be much good if he bites us before he gets used to us, and
+we die of hydrophobia in the meantime," retorted Hannah; "I believe he
+has taken a dislike to Antony already."
+
+"Argus won't bite anyone," said Vixen, laying her hand upon the dog's
+collar, "I'll answer for his good conduct. Please try and find him a
+nice snug nest somewhere--if I mustn't have him in the house."
+
+"In the house!" cried Hannah. "Miss Skipwith would faint at the mention
+of such a thing. I don't know how she'll ever put up with a huge beast
+like that anywhere about the place. He must be kept as much out of her
+sight as possible."
+
+"I'm sorry Argus isn't welcome," said Vixen proudly.
+
+She was thinking that her own welcome at Les Tourelles could hardly be
+more cordial than that accorded to Argus. She had left home because
+nobody wanted her there. How could she expect that anyone wanted her
+here, where she was a stranger, preceded, perhaps, by the reputation of
+her vices? The woman in the rusty mourning-gown, the man in the shabby
+raiment and clod-hopper boots, gave her no smile of greeting. Over this
+new home of hers there hung an unspeakable melancholy. Her heart sank
+as she crossed the threshold.
+
+Oh, what a neglected, poverty-stricken air the garden had, after the
+gardens Violet Tempest had been accustomed to look upon! Ragged trees,
+rank grass, empty flower-beds, weeds in abundance. A narrow paved
+colonnade ran along one side of the house. They went by this paved way
+to a dingy little door--not the hall-door, that was never opened--and
+entered the house by a lobby, which opened into a small parlour, dark
+and shabby, with one window looking into a court-yard. There were a
+good many books upon the green baize table-cover; pious books mostly,
+Vixen saw, with a strange revulsion of feeling; as if that were the
+culmination of her misery. There was an old-fashioned work-table, with
+a faded red silk well, beside the open window. A spectacle-case on the
+work-table, and an armchair before it, indicated that the room had been
+lately occupied. It was altogether one of the shabbiest rooms Vixen had
+ever seen--the furniture belonging to the most odious period of
+cabinet-making, the carpet unutterably dingy, the walls mildewed and
+mouldy, the sole decorations some pale engravings of naval battles,
+which might be the victories or defeats of any maritime hero, from
+Drake to Nelson.
+
+"Come and see the house," said the Captain, reading the disgust in his
+stepdaughter's pale face.
+
+He opened a door leading into the hall, a large and lofty apartment,
+with a fine old staircase ascending to a square gallery. The heavy oak
+balusters had been painted white, so had the panelling in the hall.
+Time had converted both to a dusky gray. Some rusty odds and ends of
+armour, and a few dingy family portraits decorated the walls; but of
+furniture there was not a vestige.
+
+Opening out of the hall there was a large long room with four windows
+looking into a small wilderness that had once been a garden, and
+commanding a fine view of land and sea. This the Captain called the
+drawing-room. It was sparsely furnished with a spindle-legged table,
+half-a-dozen armchairs covered with faded tapestry, an antique
+walnut-wood cabinet, another of ebony, a small oasis of carpet in the
+middle of the bare oak floor.
+
+"This and the parlour you have seen are all the sitting-rooms my aunt
+occupies," said Captain Winstanley; "the rest of the rooms on this
+floor are empty, or only used for storehouses. It is a fine old house.
+I believe the finest in the island."
+
+"Is there a history hanging to it?" asked Vixen, looking drearily round
+the spacious desolate chamber. "Has it been used as a prison, or a
+madhouse, or what? I never saw a house that filled me with such
+nameless horrors."
+
+"You are fanciful," said the Captain. "The house has no story except
+the common history of fallen fortunes. It has been in the Skipwith
+family ever since it was built. They were Leicestershire people, and
+came to Jersey after the civil war--came here to be near their prince
+in his exile--settled here and built Les Tourelles. I believe they
+expected Charles would do something handsome for them when he came into
+his own, but he didn't do anything. Sir John Skipwith stayed in the
+island and became a large landowner, and died at an advanced age--there
+is nothing to kill people here, you see--and the Skipwiths have been
+Jersey people ever since. They were once the richest family in the
+island. They are now one of the poorest. When I say they, I mean my
+aunt. She is the last of her race. The Skipwiths have crystallised into
+one maiden lady, my mother's only sister."
+
+"Then your mother was a Skipwith?" asked Violet.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And she was born and brought up here?"
+
+"Yes. She never left Jersey till my father married her. He was here
+with his regiment when they met at the governor's ball. Oh, here is my
+aunt," said the Captain, as a rustling of silk sounded in the empty
+hall.
+
+Vixen drew herself up stiffly, as if preparing to meet a foe. She had
+made up her mind to detest Miss Skipwith.
+
+The lady of the manor entered. She shook hands with her nephew, and
+presented him with a pale and shrivelled cheek, which he respectfully
+saluted.
+
+She was an elderly and faded person, very tall and painfully thin, but
+aristocratic to the highest degree. There was the indication of race in
+her aquiline nose, high narrow brow and neatly cut chin, her tapering
+hand and small slender foot. She was dressed in black silk, rustier and
+older than any silk Vixen had ever seen before: not even excepting Mrs.
+Scobel's black silk dresses, when they had been degraded from their
+original rank to the scrubbery of early services and daily wear. Her
+thin gray hair was shaded by a black lace cap, decorated with bugles
+and black weedy grasses. She wore black mittens, and jet jewellery, and
+was altogether as deeply sable as if she had been in mourning for the
+whole of the Skipwith race.
+
+She received Miss Tempest with a formal politeness which was not
+encouraging.
+
+"I hope you will be able to make yourself happy here," she said; "and
+that you have resources within yourself that will suffice for the
+employment of your time and thoughts. I receive no company, and I never
+go out. The class of people who now occupy the island are a class with
+which I should not care to associate, and which, I daresay, would not
+appreciate me. I have my own resources, and my life is fully employed.
+My only complaint is that the days are not long enough. A quiet
+existence like mine offers vast opportunities for culture and
+self-improvement. I hope you will take advantage of them, Miss Tempest."
+
+Poor Violet faltered something vaguely civil, looking sorely bewildered
+all the time. Miss Skipwith's speech sounded so like the address of a
+schoolmistress that Vixen began to think she had been trapped unawares
+in a school, as people are sometimes trapped in a madhouse.
+
+"I don't think Miss Tempest is given much to study," said the Captain
+graciously, as if he and Violet were on the friendliest terms; "but she
+is very fond of the country, and I am sure the scenery of Jersey will
+delight her. By-the-way, we ventured to bring her big dog. He will be a
+companion and protector for her in her walks. I have asked Doddery to
+find him a kennel somewhere among your capacious outbuildings."
+
+"He must not come into the house," said Miss Skipwith grimly; "I
+couldn't have a dog inside my doors. I have a Persian that has been my
+attached companion for the last ten years. What would that dear
+creature's feelings be if he saw himself exposed to the attacks of a
+savage dog?"
+
+"My dog is not savage, to Persians or anyone else," cried Vixen,
+wondering what inauspicious star had led the footsteps of an oriental
+wanderer to so dreary a refuge as Les Tourelles.
+
+"You would like to see your bedroom, perhaps?" suggested Miss Skipwith,
+and on Violet's assenting, she was handed over to Hannah Doddery, the
+woman who had opened the gate.
+
+Hannah led the way up the broad old staircase, all bare and carpetless,
+and opened one of the doors in the gallery. The room into which she
+ushered Violet was large and airy, with windows commanding the fair
+garden-like island, and the wide blue sea. But there was the same bare,
+poverty-stricken look in this room as in every other part of the manor
+house. The bed was a tall melancholy four-poster, with scantiest
+draperies of faded drab damask. Save for one little islet of threadbare
+Brussels beside the bed, the room was carpetless. There was an ancient
+wainscot wardrobe with brass handles. There was a modern deal
+dressing-table skimpily draped with muslin, and surmounted by the
+smallest of looking-glasses. There were a couple of chairs and a
+three-cornered washhand-stand. There was neither sofa nor
+writing-table. There was not an ornament on the high wooden
+mantelshelf, or a picture on the panelled walls. Vixen shivered as she
+surveyed the big barren room.
+
+"I think you will find everything comfortable," said Mrs. Doddery, with
+a formal air, which seemed to say, "and whether you do or do not
+matters nothing to me."
+
+"Thank you, yes, I daresay it is all right," Vixen answered absently,
+standing at one of the windows, gazing out over the green hills and
+valleys to the fair summer sea, and wondering whether she would be able
+to take comfort from the fertile beauty of the island.
+
+"The bed has been well aired," continued Mrs. Doddery, "and I can
+answer for the cleanliness of everything."
+
+"Thanks! Will you kindly send one of the maids to help me unpack my
+portmanteau?"
+
+"I can assist you," Mrs. Doddery answered. "We have no maid-servant. My
+husband and I are able to do all that Miss Skipwith requires. She is a
+lady who gives so little trouble."
+
+"Do you mean to say there are no other servants in this great house--no
+housemaids, no cooks?"
+
+"I have cooked for Miss Skipwith for the last thirty years. The house
+is large, but there are very few rooms in occupation."
+
+"I ought to have brought my maid," cried Vixen. "It will be quite
+dreadful. I don't want much waiting upon; but still, I'm afraid I shall
+give some trouble until I learn to do everything for myself. Just as if
+I were cast on a desert island," she said to herself in conclusion; and
+then she thought of Helen Rolleston, the petted beauty in Charles
+Reade's "Foul Play," cast with her faithful lover on an unknown island
+of the fair southern sea. But in this island of Jersey there was no
+faithful lover to give romance and interest to the situation. There was
+nothing but dull dreary reality.
+
+"I daresay I shall be able to do all you require, without feeling it
+any extra trouble, unless you are very helpless," said Mrs. Doddery,
+who was on her knees unstrapping one of the portmanteaux.
+
+"I am not helpless," replied Vixen, "though I daresay I have been
+waited on much more than was good for me."
+
+And then she knelt down before the other portmanteau, and undid the
+buckles of the thick leather straps, in which operation she broke more
+than one of her nails, and wounded her rosy finger-tips.
+
+"Oh dear, what a useless creature I am," she thought; "and why do
+people strap portmanteaux so tightly? Never mind, after a month's
+residence at Les Tourelles I shall be a Spartan."
+
+"Would you like me to unpack your trunks for you?" inquired Mrs.
+Doddery, with an accent which sounded slightly ironical.
+
+"Oh no, thanks, I can get on very well now," answered Vixen quickly;
+whereupon the housekeeper opened the drawers and cupboards in the big
+wainscot wardrobe, and left Miss Tempest to her own devices.
+
+The shelves and drawers were neatly lined with white paper, and strewed
+with dried lavender. This was luxury which Vixen had not expected. She
+laid her pretty dresses on the shelves, smiling scornfully as she
+looked at them. Of what use could pretty dresses be in a desert island?
+And here were her riding-habit and her collection of whips--useless
+lumber where there was no hope of a horse. She was obliged to put her
+books in the wardrobe, as there was no other place for them. Her desk
+and workbox she was fain to place on the floor, for the small
+dressing-table would accommodate no more than her dressing-case,
+devotional books, brushes and combs, pomatum-pots, and pinboxes.
+
+"Oh dear," she sighed. "I have a great deal too much property for a
+desert island. I wonder whether in some odd corner of Les Tourelles I
+could find such a thing as a spare table?"
+
+When she had finished her unpacking she went down to the hall. Not
+seeing anyone about, and desiring rather to avoid Captain Winstanley
+and his aunt than to rejoin them, she wandered out of the hall into one
+of the many passages of the old manor house, and began a voyage of
+discovery on her own account.
+
+"If they ask me what I have been doing I can say I lost myself," she
+thought.
+
+She found the most curious rooms--or rather rooms that had once been
+stately and handsome, now applied to the most curious purposes--a
+dining-hall with carved stone chimney-piece and painted ceiling, used
+as a storehouse for apples; another fine apartment in which a heap of
+potatoes reposed snugly in a corner, packed in straw; there was a
+spacious kitchen with a fire-place as large as a moderate-sized room--a
+kitchen that had been abandoned altogether to spiders, beetles, rats,
+and mice. A whole army of four-footed vermin scampered off as Vixen
+crossed the threshold. She could see them scuttling and scurrying along
+by the wall, with a whisking of slender tails as they vanished into
+their holes. The beetles were disporting themselves on the desolate
+hearth, the spiders had woven draperies for the dim dirty windows. The
+rustling leaves of a fig-tree, that had grown close to this side of the
+house, flapped against the window-panes with a noise of exceeding
+ghostliness.
+
+From the kitchen Vixen wandered to the out-houses, and found Argus
+howling dismally in a grass-grown court-yard, evidently believing
+himself abandoned by the world. His rapture at beholding his mistress
+was boundless.
+
+"You darling, I would give the world to let you loose," cried Vixen,
+after she had been nearly knocked down by the dog's affectionate
+greeting; "but I mustn't just yet. I'll come by-and-by and take you for
+a walk. Yes, dear old boy, we'll have a long ramble together, just as
+we used to do at home."
+
+Home, now she had left it, seemed so sweet a word that her lips
+trembled a little as she pronounced it.
+
+Everything without the house was as dreary as it was within. Poverty
+had set its mark on all things, like a blight. Decay was visible
+everywhere--in the wood-work, in the stone-work, in hinges and handles,
+thresholds and lintels, ceilings and plastered walls. It would have
+cost a thousand pounds to put the manor house in decent habitable
+order. To have restored it to its original dignity and comeliness would
+have cost at least five thousand. Miss Skipwith could afford to spend
+nothing upon the house she lived in; indeed she could barely afford the
+necessaries of life. So for the last thirty years Les Tourelles had
+been gradually decaying, until the good old house had arrived at a
+stage in which decay could hardly go farther without lapsing into
+destruction.
+
+A door opened out of the court-yard into the weedy garden. This was not
+without a kind of beauty that had survived long neglect. The spreading
+fig-trees, the bushes of bright red fuchsia, and the unpruned roses
+made a fertile wilderness of flowers and foliage. There was a terrace
+in front of the drawing-room windows, and from this a flight of
+crumbling moss-grown stone steps led down to the garden, which was on
+the slope of the hill, and lay considerably below the level of the
+house.
+
+While Vixen was perambulating the garden, a bell rang in a cupola on
+the roof; and as this sounded like the summons to a meal, she felt that
+politeness, if not appetite, demanded her return to the house.
+
+"Three o'clock," she said, looking at her watch. "What a late hour for
+luncheon!"
+
+She made her way back to the small side-door at which she had entered
+with Captain Winstanley, and went into the parlour, where she found the
+Captain and his aunt. The table was laid, but they had not seated
+themselves.
+
+"I hope I have not kept you waiting," Vixen said apologetically.
+
+"My aunt has been waiting five minutes or so; but I'm sure she will
+forgive you, as you don't yet know the ways of the house," replied the
+Captain amiably.
+
+"We have early habits at Les Tourelles, Miss Tempest," said the lady of
+the manor: "we breakfast at half-past seven and dine at three; that
+arrangement gives me a long morning for study. At six we drink tea,
+and, if you care for supper, it can be served for you on a tray at
+half-past nine. The house is shut, and all lamps put out, at ten."
+
+"As regularly as on board ship," said the Captain. "I know the customs
+of the manor of old."
+
+"You have never favoured me with a long visit, Conrad," remarked Miss
+Skipwith reproachfully.
+
+"My life has been too busy for making long visits anywhere, my dear
+aunt."
+
+They took their places at the small square table, and Miss Skipwith
+said grace. Antony Doddery was in attendance, clad in rusty black, and
+looking as like a butler as a man who cleaned windows, scrubbed floors,
+and hewed wood could be fairly expected to look. He removed the cover
+of a modest dish of fish with a grand air, and performed all the
+services of the table with as much dignity as if he had never been
+anything less than a butler. He poured out a glass of ale for the
+Captain and a glass of water for his mistress. Miss Skipwith seemed
+relieved when Violet said she preferred water to ale, and did not
+particularly care about wine.
+
+"I used to drink wine at home very often, just because it was put in my
+glass, but I like water quite as well," said Vixen.
+
+After the fish there came a small joint of lamb, and a couple of dishes
+of vegetables; then a small custard pudding, and some cheese cut up in
+very minute pieces in a glass dish, some raw garden-stuff which Doddery
+called salad, and three of last year's pears in an old Derby
+dessert-dish. The dinner could hardly have been smaller, but it was
+eminently genteel.
+
+The conversation was entirely between Captain Winstanley and his aunt.
+Vixen sat and listened wonderingly, save at odd times, when her
+thoughts strayed back to the old life which she had done with for ever.
+
+"You still continue your literary labours, I suppose, aunt," said the
+Captain.
+
+"They are the chief object of my existence. When I abandon them I shall
+have done with life," replied Miss Skipwith gravely.
+
+"But you have not yet published your book."
+
+"No; I hope when I do that even you will hear of it."
+
+"I have no doubt it will make a sensation."
+
+"If it does not I have lived and laboured in vain. But my book may make
+a sensation, and yet fall far short of the result which I have toiled
+and hoped for."
+
+"And that is----"
+
+"The establishment of a universal religion."
+
+"That is a large idea!"
+
+"Would a small idea be worth the devotion of a life? For thirty years I
+have devoted myself to this one scheme. I have striven to focus all the
+creeds of mankind in one brilliant centre--eliminating all that is base
+and superstitious in each several religion, crystallising all that is
+good and true. The Buddhist, the Brahmin, the Mohamedan, the
+Sun-worshipper, the Romanist, the Calvinist, the Lutheran, the
+Wesleyan, the Swedenborgian--each and all will find the best and
+noblest characteristics of his faith resolved and concentred in my
+universal religion. Here all creeds will meet. Gentler and wiser than
+the theology of Buddha; more humanitarian than the laws of Brahma; more
+temperate than the Moslem's code of morality; with a wider grasp of
+power than the Romanist's authoritative Church; severely self-denying
+as Calvin's ascetic rule; simple and pious as Wesley's scheme of man's
+redemption; spiritual as Swedenborg's vast idea of heaven;--my faith
+will open its arms wide enough to embrace all. There need be no more
+dissent. The mighty circle of my free church will enclose all creeds
+and all divisions of man, and spread from the northern hemisphere to
+the southern seas. Heathenism shall perish before it. The limited view
+of Christianity which missionaries have hitherto offered to the heathen
+may fail; but my universal church will open its doors to all the
+world--and, mark my words, Conrad, all the world will enter in. I may
+not live to see the day. My span of life has not long to run--but that
+day will come."
+
+"No doubt," replied Captain Winstanley gravely. "There is a
+slovenliness, so to speak, about the present arrangement of things, and
+a great deal of useless expense; every small town with its half-a-dozen
+churches and chapels of different denominations--Episcopalians,
+Wesleyans, Baptists, Roman Catholics, Primitive Methodists. Now on your
+plan one large building would do for all, like the town hall, or the
+general post office. There would be a wonderful economy."
+
+"I fear you contemplate the question from an entirely temporal point of
+view," said Miss Skipwith, flattered but yet reproachful. "It is its
+spiritual aspect that is grandest."
+
+"Naturally. But a man of the world is apt to consider the
+practicability of a scheme. And yours seems to me eminently practical.
+If you can only get the Mohamedans and the Brahmins to come in! The
+Roman Catholics might of course be easily won, though it would involve
+doing away with the Pope. There was a prophecy, by-the-way, that after
+the ninth Pius there would be only eleven more Popes. No doubt that
+prophecy pointed at your universal religion. But I fear you may have
+some difficulty about the Buddhists. I fancy they are rather a bigoted
+sect."
+
+"The greatest bigots have but to be convinced," said Miss Skipwith.
+"St. Paul was a bigot."
+
+"True. Is your book nearly finished?"
+
+"No. There are still some years of labour before me. I am now working
+at the Swedenborgian portion, striving to demonstrate how that great
+man's scheme of religion, though commonly supposed to be a new and
+original emanation of one mind, is in reality a reproduction of
+spiritual views involved in other and older religions. The Buddhists
+were Swedenborgians without knowing it, just as Swedenborg
+unconsciously was a Buddhist."
+
+"I begin to understand. The process which you are engaged in is a kind
+of spiritual chemistry, in which you resolve each particular faith into
+its primary elements: with a view to prove that those elements are
+actually the same in all creeds; and that the differences which
+heretofore have kept mankind apart are mere divergencies of detail."
+
+"That, crudely and imperfectly stated, is my aim," replied Miss
+Skipwith graciously.
+
+This kind of conversation continued all through dinner. Miss Skipwith
+talked of Buddha, and Confucius, and Mahomet, and Zuinglius, and
+Calvin, and Luther, as familiarly as if they had been her most intimate
+friends; and the Captain led her on and played her as he would have
+played a trout in one of the winding Hampshire streams. His gravity was
+imperturbable. Vixen sat and wondered whether she was to hear this kind
+of thing every day of her life, and whether she would be expected to
+ask Miss Skipwith leading questions, as the Captain was doing. It was
+all very well for him, who was to spend only one day at Les Tourelles;
+but Vixen made up her mind that she would boldly avow her indifference
+to all creeds and all theologians, from Confucius to Swedenborg. She
+might consent to live for a time amidst the dullness and desolation of
+Les Tourelles, but she would not be weighed down and crushed by Miss
+Skipwith's appalling hobby. The mere idea of the horror of having every
+day to discuss a subject that was in its very nature inexhaustible,
+filled her with terror.
+
+"I would sooner take my meals in that abandoned kitchen, in the company
+of the rats and beetles, than have to listen every day to this kind of
+thing," she thought.
+
+When dinner was over the Captain went off to smoke his cigar in the
+garden, and this Vixen thought a good time for making her escape.
+
+"I should like to take a walk with my dog, if you will excuse me, Miss
+Skipwith," she said politely.
+
+"My dear, you must consider yourself at liberty to employ and amuse
+yourself as you please, of course always keeping strictly within the
+bounds of propriety," solemnly replied the lady of the manor. "I shall
+not interfere with your freedom. My own studies are of so grave a
+nature that they in a measure isolate me from my fellow-creatures, but
+when you require and ask for sympathy and advice, I shall be ready to
+give both. My library is at your service, and I hope ere long you will
+have found yourself some serious aim for your studies. Life without
+purpose is a life hardly worth living. If girls of your age could only
+find that out, and seek their vocation early, how much grander and
+nobler would be woman's place in the universe. But, alas! my dear, the
+common aim of girlhood seems to be to look pretty and to get married."
+
+"I have made up my mind never to marry," said Violet, with a smile that
+was half sad half cynical; "so there at least you may approve of me,
+Miss Skipwith."
+
+"My nephew tells me that you refused an excellent offer from an Irish
+peer."
+
+"I would not have done the Irish peer so great a wrong as to have
+married him without loving him."
+
+"I admire your honourable feeling," said Miss Skipwith, with solemn
+approval; "I, too, might have married, but the man towards whom my
+heart most inclined was a man of no family. I could not marry a man
+without family. I am weak enough to be prouder of my pedigree than
+other women are of beauty and fortune. I am the last of the Skipwiths,
+and I have done nothing to degrade my race. The family name and the
+family pride will die with me. There was a time when a Skipwith owned a
+third of the island. Our estate has dwindled to the garden and meadows
+that surround this old house; our family has shrunk into one old woman;
+but if I can make the name of Skipwith famous before I go down to my
+grave, I shall not have lived and laboured in vain."
+
+Vixen felt a thrill of pity as she listened to this brief confession of
+a self-deluded solitary soul, which had built its house upon sand, as
+hopefully as if the foundations were solidest rock. The line of
+demarcation between such fanaticism as Miss Skipwith's and the
+hallucination of an old lady in Bedlam, who fancies herself Queen
+Victoria, seemed to Vixen but a hair's breadth. But, after all, if the
+old lady and Miss Skipwith were both happy in their harmless
+self-deceptions, why should one pity them? The creature to be pitied is
+the man or woman who keenly sees and feels the hard realities of life,
+and cannot take pleasure in phantoms.
+
+Vixen ran off to her room to get her hat and gloves, delighted to find
+herself free. Miss Skipwith was not such a very bad sort of person,
+after all, perhaps. Liberty to roam about the island with her dog Vixen
+esteemed a great boon. She would be able to think about her troubles,
+unmolested by inquisitive looks or unwelcome sympathy.
+
+She went down to the court-yard, untied the faithful Argus, and they
+set out together to explore the unknown, the dog in such wild spirits
+that it was almost impossible for Vixen to be sad. The afternoon sun
+was shining in all his glory, birds were singing, flickering lights and
+shadows playing on the grassy banks. Argus scampered up and down the
+lanes, and burst tumultuously through gaps in the hedges, like a dog
+possessed of demons.
+
+It was a pretty little island, after all; Vixen was fain to admit as
+much. There was some justification for the people who sang its praises
+with such enthusiasm. One might have fancied it a fertile corner of
+Devonshire that had slipped its moorings and drifted westward on a
+summer sea.
+
+"If I had Arion here, and--Rorie, I think I could be almost happy,"
+Vixen said to herself with a dreamy smile.
+
+"And Rorie!"
+
+Alas, poor child! faintly, feebly steadfast in the barren path of
+honour: where could she not have been happy with the companion of her
+childhood, the one only love of her youth? Was there ever a spot of
+land or sea, from Hudson's Bay to the unmapped archipelago or
+hypothetical continent of the Southern Pole, where she could not have
+been happy with Roderick Vawdrey? She thought again of Helen Rolleston
+and her lover on the South Sea island. Ah what a happy fate was that of
+the consumptive heroine! Alone, protected, cherished, and saved from
+death by her devoted lover.
+
+Poor Rorie! She knew how well she loved him, now that the wide sea
+rolled between them, now that she had said him nay, denied her love,
+and parted from him for ever.
+
+She thought of that scene in the pine-wood, dimly lit by the young
+moon. She lived again those marvellous moments--the concentrated bliss
+and pain of a lifetime. She felt again the strong grasp of his hands,
+his breath upon her cheek, as he bent over her shoulder. Again she
+heard him pleading for the life-long union her soul desired as the most
+exquisite happiness life could give.
+
+
+  "I had not loved thee, dear, so well
+  Loved I not honour more."
+
+
+Those two familiar lines flashed into her mind as she thought of her
+lover. To have degraded herself, to have dishonoured him; no, it would
+have been too dreadful. Were he to plead again she must answer again as
+she had answered before.
+
+"His mother despised me," she thought. "If people in a better world are
+really _au courant_ as to the affairs of this, I should like Lady Jane
+Vawdrey to know that I am not utterly without the instincts of a
+gentlewoman."
+
+She wandered on, following the winding of the lanes, careless where she
+went, and determined to take advantage of her liberty. She met few
+people, and of those she did not trouble herself to ask her way.
+
+"If I lose myself on my desert island it can't much matter," she
+thought. "There is no one to be anxious about me. Miss Skipwith will be
+deep in her universal creed, and Captain Winstanley would be very glad
+for me to be lost. My death would leave him master for life of the
+Abbey House and all belonging to it."
+
+She roamed on till she came to the open seashore; a pretty little
+harbour surrounded with quaint-looking houses; two or three white
+villas in fertile gardens, on a raised road; and, dominating all the
+scene, a fine old feudal castle, with keep, battlements, drawbridge,
+portcullis, and all that becomes a fortress.
+
+This was Mount Orgueil, the castle in which Charles Stuart spent a
+short period of his life, while Cromwell was ruling by land and sea,
+and kingly hopes were at their lowest ebb. The good old fortress had
+suffered for its loyalty, for the Parliament sent Admiral Blake, with a
+fleet, to reduce the rebellious island to submission, and Mount Orgueil
+had not been strong enough to hold out against its assailants.
+
+Violet went up the sloping path that led to the grim old gateway under
+the gloomy arch, and still upward till she came to a sunny battlemented
+wall above the shining sea. The prospect was more than worth the
+trouble. Yonder, in the dim distance, were the towers of Coutance
+Cathedral; far away, mere spots in the blue water, were the smaller fry
+of the Channel Islands; below her, the yellow sands were smiling in the
+sun, the placid wavelets reflecting all the colour and glory of the
+changeful sky.
+
+"This would not be a bad place to live in, Argus, if----"
+
+She paused with her arm round her dog's neck, as he stood on end,
+looking over the parapet, with a deep interest in possible rats or
+rabbits lurking in some cavity of the craggy cliff below. If! Ah, what
+a big "if" that was! It meant love and dear familiar companionship. It
+meant all Vixen's little world.
+
+She lingered long. The scene was beautiful, and there was nothing to
+lure her home. Then, at last, feeling that she was treating poor Miss
+Skipwith badly, and that her prolonged absence might give alarm in that
+dreary household, she retraced her steps, and at the foot of the craggy
+mount asked the nearest way to Les Tourelles.
+
+The nearest way was altogether different from the track by which she
+had come, and brought her back to the old monastic gate in a little
+more than an hour. She opened the gate and went in. There was nothing
+for the most burglarious invader to steal at Les Tourelles, and bolts
+and locks were rarely used. Miss Skipwith was reading in her parlour, a
+white Persian cat dozing on a cushioned arm-chair beside her, some cups
+and saucers and a black teapot on a tray before her, and the rest of
+the table piled with books. There was no sign of Captain Winstanley.
+
+"I'm afraid I'm rather late," Vixen said apologetically.
+
+She felt a kind of half-pitying respect for Miss Skipwith, as a
+harmless lunatic.
+
+"My dear, I daresay that as an absolute fact you are late," answered
+the lady of the manor, without looking up from her book, "but as time
+is never too long for me, I have been hardly conscious of the delay.
+Your stepfather has gone down to the club at St. Helier's to see some
+of his old acquaintances. Perhaps you would like a cup of tea?"
+
+Vixen replied that she would very much like some tea, whereupon Miss
+Skipwith poured out a weak and tepid infusion, against which the girl
+inwardly protested.
+
+"If I am to exist at Les Tourelles, I must at least have decent tea,"
+she said to herself. "I must buy an occasional pound for my own
+consumption, make friends with Mrs. Doddery, and get her to brew it for
+me."
+
+And then Vixen knelt down by the arm-chair and tried to get upon
+intimate terms with the Persian. He was a serious-minded animal, and
+seemed inclined to resent her advances, so she left him in peace on his
+patchwork cushion, a relic of those earlier days when Miss Skipwith had
+squandered her precious hours on the feminine inanity of needle-work.
+
+Vixen thought of the German _Volkslied_, as she looked at the old lady
+in the black cap, bending over a ponderous volume, with the
+solemn-visaged cat coiled on the chair beside her.
+
+
+"Minerva's Vogel war ein Kauz."
+
+
+The Persian cat seemed as much an attribute of the female theologian as
+the bird of the goddess.
+
+Vixen went to her room soon after dark, and thus avoided the Captain,
+who did not return till ten. She was worn out with the fatigue of the
+voyage, her long ramble, the painful thoughts and manifold agitations
+of the last two days. She set her candle on the dressing-table, and
+looked round the bare empty room, feeling as if she were in a dream. It
+was all strange, and unhomely, and comfortless; like one of those wild
+dream-pictures which seem so appallingly real in their hideous
+unreality.
+
+"And I am to live here indefinitely--for the next six years, perhaps,
+until I come of age and am my own mistress. It is too dreadful!"
+
+She went to bed and slept a deep and comforting sleep, for very
+weariness: and she dreamt that she was walking on the battlements of
+Mount Orgueil, in the drowsy afternoon sunlight, with Charles Stuart;
+and the face of the royal exile was the face of Roderick Vawdrey, and
+the hand that held hers as they two stood side by side in the sunshine
+was the broad strong hand of her girlhood's friend.
+
+When she went downstairs between eight and nine next morning she found
+Miss Skipwith pacing slowly to and fro the terrace in front of the
+drawing-room windows, conning over the pencil notes of her yesterday's
+studies.
+
+"Your stepfather has been gone half-an-hour, my dear," said the lady of
+the manor. "He was very sorry to have to go without wishing you
+good-bye."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+Chiefly Financial.
+
+Violet was gone. Her rooms were empty; her faithful little waiting-maid
+was dismissed; her dog's deep-toned thunder no longer sounded through
+the house, baying joyous welcome when his mistress came down for her
+early morning ramble in the shrubberies. Arion had been sent to grass,
+and was running wild in fertile pastures, shoeless and unfettered as
+the South American mustang on his native prairie. Nothing associated
+with the exiled heiress was left, except the rooms she had inhabited;
+and even they looked blank and empty and strange without her. It was
+almost as if a whole family had departed. Vixen's presence seemed to
+have filled the house with youth and freshness, and free joyous life.
+Without her all was silent as the grave.
+
+Mrs. Winstanley missed her daughter sorely. She had been wont to
+complain fretfully of the girl's exuberance; but the blank her absence
+made struck a chill to the mother's heart. She had fancied that life
+would be easier without Violet; that her union with her husband would
+be more complete; and now she found herself looking wistfully towards
+the door of her morning-room, listening vaguely for a footstep; and the
+figure she looked for at the door, and the footsteps she listened for
+in the corridor were not Conrad Winstanley's. It was the buoyant step
+of her daughter she missed; it was the bright frank face of her
+daughter she yearned for.
+
+One day the captain surprised her in tears, and asked the reason of her
+melancholy.
+
+"I daresay it's very weak of me, Conrad," she said piteously, "but I
+miss Violet more and more every day."
+
+"It is uncommonly weak of you," answered the Captain with agreeable
+candour, "but I suppose it's natural. People generally get attached to
+their worries; and as your daughter was an incessant worry, you very
+naturally lament her absence. I am honest enough to confess that I am
+very glad she is gone. We had no domestic peace while she was with us."
+
+"But she is not to stay away for ever, Conrad. I cannot be separated
+from my only daughter for ever. That would be too dreadful."
+
+"'For ever' is a long word," answered the Captain coolly. "She will
+come back to us--of course."
+
+"When, dear?"
+
+"When she is older and wiser."
+
+This was cold comfort. Mrs. Winstanley dried her tears, and resumed her
+crewel-work. The interesting variety of shades in green which modern
+art has discovered were a source of comfort to the mother's troubled
+mind. Moved to emulation by the results that had been achieved in
+artistic needle-work by the school at South Kensington and the Royal
+Tapestry Manufactory at Windsor, Pamela found in her crewel-work an
+all-absorbing labour. Matilda of Normandy could hardly have toiled more
+industriously at the Bayeux tapestry than did Mrs. Winstanley, in the
+effort to immortalise the fleeting glories of woodland blossom or
+costly orchid upon kitchen towelling.
+
+It was a dull and lonely life which the mistress of the Abbey House led
+in these latter days of glowing summer weather; and perhaps it was only
+the distractions of crewels and point-lace which preserved her from
+melancholy madness. The Captain had been too long a bachelor to
+renounce the agreeable habits of a bachelor's existence. His amusements
+were all masculine, and more or less solitary. When there was no
+hunting, he gave himself up to fishing, and found his chief delight in
+the persecution of innocent salmon. He supplied the Abbey House larder
+with fish, sent an occasional basket to a friend, and dispatched the
+surplus produce of his rod to a fishmonger in London. He was an
+enthusiast at billiards, and would play with innocent Mr. Scobel rather
+than not play at all. He read every newspaper and periodical of mark
+that was published. He rode a good deal, and drove not a little in a
+high-wheeled dog-cart; quite an impossible vehicle for a lady. He
+transacted all the business of house, stable, gardens, and home-farm,
+and that in the most precise and punctual manner. He wrote a good many
+letters, and he smoked six or seven cigars every day. It must be
+obvious, therefore, that he had very little time to devote to his
+pretty middle-aged wife, whose languid airs and vapourish graces were
+likely to pall upon an ardent temper after a year of married life. Yet,
+though she found her days lonely, Mrs. Winstanley had no ground for
+complaint. What fault could a woman find in a husband who was always
+courteous and complimentary in his speech, whose domestic tastes were
+obvious, who thought it no trouble to supervise the smallest details of
+the household, who could order a dinner, lay out a garden, stock a
+conservatory, or amend the sanitary arrangements of a stable with equal
+cleverness; who never neglected a duty towards wife or society?
+
+Mrs. Winstanley could see no flaw in the perfection of her husband's
+character; but it began about this time slowly to dawn upon her languid
+soul that, as Captain Winstanley's wife, she was not so happy as she
+had been as Squire Tempest's widow.
+
+Her independence was gone utterly. She awoke slowly to the
+comprehension of that fact. Her individuality was blotted out, or
+absorbed into her husband's being. She had no more power or influence
+in her own house, than the lowest scullion in her kitchen. She had
+given up her banking account, and the receipt of her rents, which in
+the days of her widowhood had been remitted to her half-yearly by the
+solicitor who collected them. Captain Winstanley had taken upon himself
+the stewardship of his wife's income. She had been inclined to cling to
+her cheque-book and her banking account at Southampton; but the Captain
+had persuaded her of the folly of such an arrangement.
+
+"Why two balances and two accounts, when one will do?" he argued. "You
+have only to ask me for a cheque when you want it, or to give me your
+bills."
+
+Whereupon the bride of six weeks had yielded graciously, and the
+balance had been transferred from the Southampton bank to Captain
+Winstanley's account at the Union.
+
+But now, with Theodore's unsettled account of four years' standing
+hanging over her head by the single hair of the penny post, and likely
+to descend upon her any morning, Mrs. Winstanley regretted her
+surrendered banking account, with its balance of eleven hundred pounds
+or so. The Captain had managed everything with wondrous wisdom, no
+doubt. He had done away with all long credits. He paid all his bills on
+the first Saturday in the month, save such as could be paid weekly. He
+had reduced the price of almost everything supplied to the Abbey House,
+from the stable provender to the wax candles that lighted the faded
+sea-green draperies and white panelling of the drawing-room. The only
+expenditure over which he had no control was his wife's private
+disbursement; but he had a habit of looking surprised when she asked
+him for a cheque, and a business-like way of asking the amount
+required, which prevented her applying to him often. Still, there was
+that long-standing account of Madame Theodore's in the background, and
+Mrs. Winstanley felt that it was an account which must be settled
+sooner or later. Her disinclination to ask her husband for money had
+tended to swell Theodore's bill. She had bought gloves, ribbons, shoes,
+everything from that tasteful purveyor, and had even obtained the
+somewhat expensive material for her fancy work through Madame Theodore;
+a temporary convenience which she could hardly hope to enjoy gratis.
+
+Like all weak women she had her occasional longings for independence,
+her moments of inward revolt against the smooth tyrant. The income was
+hers, she argued with herself sometimes, and she had a right to spend
+her own money as she pleased. But then she recalled her husband's grave
+warnings about the future and its insecurity. She had but a brief lease
+of her present wealth, and he was labouring to lay by a provision for
+the days to come.
+
+"It would be wicked of me to thwart him in such a wise purpose," she
+told herself.
+
+The restriction of her charities pained the soft-hearted Pamela not a
+little. To give to all who asked her had been the one unselfish
+pleasure of her narrow soul. She had been imposed upon, of course; had
+fed families whose fathers squandered their weekly wages in the cosy
+taproom of a village inn; had in some wise encouraged idleness and
+improvident living; but she had been the comforter of many a weary
+heart, the benefactor of many a patient care-oppressed mother, the
+raiser-up of many a sickly child drooping on its bed of pain.
+
+Now, under the Captain's rule, she had the pleasure of seeing her name
+honourably recorded in the subscription list of every local charity:
+but her hand was no longer open to the surrounding poor, her good old
+Saxon name of Lady had lost its ancient significance. She was no longer
+the giver of bread to the hungry. She sighed and submitted,
+acknowledging her husband's superior wisdom.
+
+"You would not like to live in a semi-detached villa on the Southampton
+Road, would you, my dear Pamela?" asked the Captain.
+
+"I might die in a semi-detached house, Conrad. I'm sure I could not
+live in one," she exclaimed piteously.
+
+"Then, my love, we must make a tremendous effort and save all we can
+before your daughter comes of age, or else we shall assuredly have to
+leave the Abbey House. We might go abroad certainly, and live at Dinan,
+or some quiet old French town where provisions are cheap."
+
+"My dear Conrad, I could not exist in one of those old French towns,
+smelling perpetually of cabbage-soup."
+
+"Then, my dear love, we must exercise the strictest economy, or life
+will be impossible six years hence."
+
+Pamela sighed and assented, with a sinking of her heart. To her mind
+this word economy was absolutely the most odious in the English
+language. Her life was made up of trifles; and they were all expensive
+trifles. She liked to be better dressed than any woman of her
+acquaintance. She liked to surround herself with pretty things; and the
+prettiness must take the most fashionable form, and be frequently
+renewed. She had dim ideas which she considered aesthetic, and which
+involved a good deal of shifting and improving of furniture.
+
+Against all these expensive follies Captain Winstanley set his face
+sternly, using pretty words to his wife at all times, but proving
+himself as hard as rock when she tried to bend him to her will. He had
+not yet interfered with her toilet, for he had yet to learn what that
+cost.
+
+This knowledge came upon him like a thunder-clap one sultry morning in
+July--real thunder impending in the metallic-tinted sky--about a month
+after Vixen's departure.
+
+Theodore's long-expected bill was among the letters in the morning's
+bag--a bulky envelope which the Captain handed to his wife with his
+usual politeness. He never opened her letters, but he invariably asked
+to see them, and she always handed her correspondence over to him with
+a childlike meekness. To-day she was slow to hand the Captain her
+letter. She sat looking at the long list of items with a clouded brow,
+and forgot to pour out her husband's coffee in the abstraction of a
+troubled mind.
+
+"I'm afraid your letters of this morning are not of a very pleasant
+character, my love," said the Captain, watchful of his wife's clouded
+countenance. "Is that a bill you are examining? I thought we paid ready
+money for everything."
+
+"It is my dressmaker's bill," faltered Mrs. Winstanley.
+
+"A dressmaker's bill! That can't be very alarming. You look as awful,
+and the document looks as voluminous, as if it were a lawyer's bill,
+including the costs of two or three unlucky Chancery suits, or
+half-a-dozen conveyances. Let me have the account, dear, and I'll send
+your dressmaker a cheque next Saturday."
+
+He held out his hand for the paper, but Pamela did not give it to him.
+
+"I'm afraid you'll think it awfully high, Conrad," she said, in a
+deprecating tone. "You see it has been running a long time--since the
+Christmas before dear Edward's death, in fact. I have paid Theodore
+sums on account in the meanwhile, but those seem to go for very little
+against the total of her bill. She is expensive, of course. All the
+West End milliners are; but her style is undeniable, and she is in
+direct association with Worth."
+
+"My dear Pamela, I did not ask you for her biography, I asked only for
+her bill. Pray let me see the total, and tell me if you have any
+objections to make against the items."
+
+"No," sighed Mrs. Winstanley, bending over the document with a
+perplexed brow, "I believe--indeed, I am sure--I have had all the
+things. Many of them are dearer than I expected; but there is no rule
+as to the price of anything thoroughly Parisian, that has not been seen
+in London. One has to pay for style and originality. I hope you won't
+be vexed at having to write so large a cheque, Conrad, at a time when
+you are so anxious to save money. Next year I shall try my best to
+economise."
+
+"My dearest Pamela, why beat about the bush? The bill must be paid,
+whatever its amount. I suppose a hundred pounds will cover it?"
+
+"Oh, Conrad, when many women give a hundred pounds for a single dress!"
+
+"When they do I should say that Bedlam must be their natural and
+fitting abode," retorted the Captain, with suppressed ire. "The bill is
+more than a hundred then? Pray give it me, Pamela, and make an end of
+this foolishness."
+
+This time Captain Winstanley went over to his wife, and took the paper
+out of her hand. He had not seen the total, but he was white with rage
+already. He had made up his mind to squeeze a small fortune out of the
+Abbey House estate during his brief lease of the property; and here was
+this foolish wife of his squandering hundreds upon finery.
+
+"Be kind enough to pour me out a cup of coffee," he said, resuming his
+seat, and deliberately spreading out the bill.
+
+"Great Heaven!" he cried, after a glance at the total. "This is too
+preposterous. The woman must be mad."
+
+The total was seventeen hundred and sixty-four pounds fourteen and
+sixpence. Mrs. Winstanley's payments on account amounted to four
+hundred pounds; leaving a balance of thirteen hundred and sixty-four
+pounds for the Captain to liquidate.
+
+"Indeed, dear Conrad, it is not such a very tremendous account,"
+pleaded Pamela, appalled by the expression of her husband's face.
+"Theodore has customers who spend two thousand a year with her."
+
+"Very laudable extravagance, if they are wives of millionaires, and
+have their silver-mines, or cotton-mills, or oil-wells to maintain
+them. But that the widow of a Hampshire squire, a lady who six years
+hence will have to exist upon a pittance, should run up such a bill as
+this is to my mind an act of folly that is almost criminal. From this
+moment I abandon all my ideas of nursing your estate, of providing
+comfortably for our future. Henceforward we must drift towards
+insolvency, like other people. It would be worse than useless for me to
+go on racking my brains in the endeavour to secure a given result, when
+behind my back your thoughtless extravagance is stultifying all my
+efforts."
+
+Here Mrs. Winstanley dissolved into tears.
+
+"Oh Conrad! How can you say such cruel things?" she sobbed. "I go
+behind your back! I stultify you! When I have allowed myself to be
+ruled and governed in everything! When I have even parted with my only
+child to please you!"
+
+"Not till your only child had tried to set the house on fire."
+
+"Indeed, Conrad, you are mistaken there. She never meant it."
+
+"I know nothing about her meaning," said the Captain moodily. "She did
+it."
+
+"It is too cruel, after all my sacrifices, that I should be called
+extravagant--and foolish--and criminal. I have only dressed as a lady
+ought to dress--out of mere self-respect. Dear Edward always liked to
+see me look nice. He never said an unkind word about my bills. It is a
+sad--sad change for me."
+
+"Your future will be a sadder change, if you go on in the way you are
+going," retorted the Captain. "Let me see: your income, after Violet
+comes of age, is to be fifteen hundred a year. You have been spending six
+hundred a year upon millinery. That leaves nine hundred for everything
+else--stable, garden, coals, taxes, servants' wages, wine--to say
+nothing of such trifling claims as butcher and baker, and the rest of
+it. You will have to manage with wonderful cleverness to make both ends
+meet."
+
+"I am sure I would sacrifice anything rather than live unhappily with
+you, Conrad," Mrs. Winstanley murmured piteously, drinking much strong
+tea in her agitation, the cup shaking in her poor little white weak
+hand. "Nothing could be so dreadful to me as to live on bad terms with
+you. I have surrendered so much for your love, Conrad. What would
+become of me, if I lost that? I will give up dealing with Theodore, if
+you like--though it will be a hard trial, after she has worked for me
+so many years, and has studied my style and knows exactly what suits
+me. I will dress ever so plainly, and even have my gowns made by a
+Southampton dressmaker, though that will be too dreadful. You will
+hardly recognise me. But I will do anything--anything, Conrad, rather
+than hear you speak so cruelly."
+
+She went over to him and laid her hand tremulously on his shoulder, and
+looked down at him with piteous, pleading eyes. No Circassian slave,
+afraid of bowstring and sack, could have entreated her master's
+clemency with deeper self-abasement.
+
+Even Conrad Winstanley's hard nature was touched by the piteousness of
+her look and tone. He took the hand gently and raised it to his lips.
+
+"I don't mean to be cruel, Pamela," he said. "I only want you to face
+the truth, and to understand your future position. It is your own money
+you are squandering, and you have a right to waste it, if it pleases
+you to do so. But it is a little hard for a man who has laboured and
+schemed for a given result, suddenly to find himself out in his
+calculations by so much as thirteen hundred and sixty-four pounds. Let
+us say no more about it, my dear. Here is the bill, and it must be
+paid. We have only to consider the items, and see if the prices are
+reasonable."
+
+And then the Captain, with bent brow and serious aspect, began to read
+the lengthy record of an English lady's folly. Most of the items he
+passed over in silence, or with only a sigh, keeping his wife by his
+side, looking over his shoulder.
+
+"Point out anything that is wrong," he said; but as yet Mrs. Winstanley
+had found no error in the bill.
+
+Sometimes there came an item which moved the Captain to speech. "A
+dinner-dress, _pain brule_ brocade, mixed _poult de soie_, _manteau de
+cour_, lined ivory satin, trimmed with hand-worked embroidery of wild
+flowers on Brussels net, sixty-three pounds."
+
+"What in the name of all that's reasonable is _pain brule?_" asked the
+Captain impatiently.
+
+"It's the colour, Conrad. One of those delicate tertiaries that have
+been so much worn lately."
+
+"Sixty guineas for a dinner-dress! That's rather stiff. Do you know
+that a suit of dress-clothes costs me nine pounds, and lasts almost as
+many years?"
+
+"My dear Conrad, for a man it is so different. No one looks at your
+clothes. That dress was for Lady Ellangowan's dinner. You made me very
+happy that night, for you told me I was the best-dressed woman in the
+room."
+
+"I should not have been very happy myself if I had known the cost of
+your gown," answered the Captain grimly. "Fifteen guineas for a Honiton
+_fichu!_" he cried presently. "What in mercy's name is a _fichu?_ It
+sounds like a sneeze."
+
+"It is a little half-handkerchief that I wear to brighten a dark silk
+dress when we dine alone, Conrad. You know you have always said that
+lace harmonises a woman's dress, and gives a softness to the complexion
+and contour."
+
+"I shall be very careful what I say in future," muttered the Captain,
+as he went on with the bill. "French cambric _peignoir_, trimmed real
+Valenciennes, turquoise ribbon, nineteen guineas," he read presently.
+"Surely you would never give twenty pounds for a gown you wear when you
+are having your hair dressed?"
+
+"That is only the name, dear. It is really a breakfast-dress. You know
+you always like to see me in white of a morning."
+
+The Captain groaned and said nothing.
+
+"Come," he said, by-and-by, "this surely must be a mistake. 'Shooting
+dress, superfine silk corduroy, trimmed and lined with cardinal _poult
+de soie_, oxydised silver buttons, engraved hunting subjects,
+twenty-seven guineas.' Thank Heaven you are not one of those masculine
+women who go out shooting, and jump over five-barred gates."
+
+"The dress is quite right, dear, though I don't shoot. Theodore sent it
+to me for a walking-dress, and I have worn it often when we have walked
+in the Forest. You thought it very stylish and becoming, though just a
+little fast."
+
+"I see," said the Captain, with a weary air, "your not shooting does
+not hinder your having shooting-dresses. Are there any
+fishing-costumes, or riding-habits, in the bill?"
+
+"No, dear. It was Theodore's own idea to send me the corduroy dress.
+She thought it so new and _recherche_, and even the Duchess admired it.
+Mine was the first she had ever seen."
+
+"That was a triumph worth twenty-seven guineas, no doubt," sighed the
+Captain. "Well, I suppose there is no more to be said. The bill to me
+appears iniquitous. If you were a duchess or a millionaire's wife, of
+course it would be different. Such women have a right to spend all they
+can upon dress. They encourage trade. I am no Puritan. But when a woman
+dresses beyond her means--above her social position--I regret the wise
+old sumptuary laws which regulated these things in the days when a fur
+coat was a sign of nobility. If you only knew, Pamela, how useless this
+expensive finery is, how little it adds to your social status, how
+little it enhances your beauty! Why, the finest gown this Madame
+Theodore ever made cannot hide one of your wrinkles."
+
+"My wrinkles!" cried Pamela, sorely wounded. "That is the first time I
+ever heard of them. To think that my husband should be the first to
+tell me I am getting an old woman! But I forgot, you are younger than
+I, and I daresay in your eyes I seem quite old."
+
+"My dear Pamela, be reasonable. Can a woman's forehead at forty be
+quite as smooth as it was at twenty? However handsome a woman is at
+that age--and to my mind it is almost the best age for beauty, just as
+the ripe rich colouring of a peach is lovelier than the poor little
+pale blossom that preceded it--however attractive a middle-aged woman
+may be there must be some traces to show that she has lived half her
+life; and to suppose that pain brule brocade, and hand-worked
+embroidery, can obliterate those, is extreme folly. Dress in rich and
+dark velvets, and old point-lace that has been twenty years in your
+possession, and you will be as beautiful and as interesting as a
+portrait by one of the old Venetian masters. Can Theodore's highest art
+make you better than that? Remember that excellent advice of old
+Polonius's,
+
+  Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
+  But not expressed in fancy.
+
+It is the fancy that swells your milliner's bill, the newly-invented
+trimmings, the complex and laborious combinations."
+
+"I will be dreadfully economical in future, Conrad. For the last year I
+have dressed to please you."
+
+"But what becomes of all these gowns?" asked the Captain, folding up
+the bill; "what do you do with them?"
+
+"They go out."
+
+"Out where? To the colonies?"
+
+"No, dear; they go out of fashion; and I give them to Pauline."
+
+"A sixty-guinea dress flung to your waiting-maid! The Duchess of
+Dovedale could not do things in better style."
+
+"I should be very sorry not to dress better than the Duchess," said
+Mrs. Winstanley, "she is always hideously dowdy. But a duchess can
+afford to dress as badly as she likes."
+
+"I see. Then it is we only who occupy the border-land of society who
+have to be careful. Well, my dear Pamela, I shall send Madame Theodore
+her cheque, and with your permission close her account; and, unless you
+receive some large accession of fortune I should recommend you not to
+reopen it."
+
+His wife gave a heart-breaking sigh.
+
+"I would sacrifice anything for your sake, Conrad," she said, "but I
+shall be a perfect horror, and you will hate me."
+
+"I fell in love with you, my dear, not with your gown."
+
+"But you fell in love with me in my gown, dear; and you don't know how
+different your feelings might have been if you had seen me in a gown
+cut by a country dressmaker."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+"With weary Days thou shalt be clothed and fed."
+
+Captain Winstanley never again alluded to the dressmaker's bill. He was
+too wise a man to reopen old wounds or to dwell upon small vexations.
+He had invested every penny that he could spare, leaving the smallest
+balance at his banker's compatible with respectability. He had to sell
+some railway shares in order to pay Madame Theodore. Happily the shares
+had gone up since his purchase of them, and he lost nothing by the
+transaction; but it galled him sorely to part with the money. It was as
+if an edifice that he had been toilfully raising, stone by stone, had
+begun to crumble under his hands. He knew not when or whence the next
+call might come. The time in which he had to save money was so short.
+Only six years, and the heiress would claim her estate, and Mrs.
+Winstanley would be left with the empty shell of her present
+position--the privilege of occupying a fine old Tudor mansion, with
+enormous stables, and fifteen acres of garden and shrubberies, and an
+annuity that would barely suffice to maintain existence in a third-rate
+London square.
+
+Mrs. Winstanley was slow to recover from the shock of her husband's
+strong language about Theodore's bill. She was sensitive about all
+things that touched her own personality, and she was peculiarly
+sensitive about the difference between her husband's age and her own.
+She had married a man who was her junior; but she had married him with
+the conviction that, in his eyes at least, she had all the bloom and
+beauty of youth, and that he admired and loved her above all other
+women. That chance allusion to her wrinkles had pierced her heart. She
+was deeply afflicted by the idea that her husband had perceived the
+signs of advancing years in her face. And now she fell to perusing her
+looking-glass more critically than she had ever done before. She saw
+herself in the searching north light; and the north light was more
+cruel and more candid than Captain Winstanley. There were lines on her
+forehead--unmistakable, ineffaceable lines. She could wear her hair in
+no way that would hide them, unless she had hidden her forehead
+altogether under a bush of frizzy fluffy curls. There was a faded look
+about her complexion, too, which she had never before discovered--a
+wanness, a yellowness. Yes, these things meant age! In such a spirit,
+perchance, did Elizabeth of England survey the reflection in her
+mirror, until all the glories of her reign seemed as nothing to her
+when weighed against this dread horror of fast-coming age. And luckless
+Mary, cooped up in the narrow rooms at Fotheringay, may have deemed
+captivity, and the shadow of doom, as but trifling ills compared with
+the loss of youth and beauty. Once to have been exquisitely beautiful,
+the inspiration of poets, the chosen model of painters, and to see the
+glory fading--that, for a weak woman, must be sorrow's crown of sorrow.
+
+Anon dim feelings of jealousy began to gnaw Pamela's heart. She grew
+watchful of her husband's attentions to other women, suspicious of
+looks and words that meant no more than a man's desire to please.
+Society no longer made her happy. Her Tuesday afternoons lost their
+charm. There was poison in everything. Lady Ellangowan's flirting ways,
+which had once only amused her, now tortured her. Captain Winstanley's
+devotion to this lively matron, which had heretofore seemed only the
+commoner's tribute of respect to the peeress, now struck his wife as a
+too obvious infatuation for the woman. She began to feel wretched in
+the society of certain women--nay, of all women who were younger, or
+possibly more attractive, than herself. She felt that the only security
+for her peace would be to live on a desert island with the husband she
+had chosen. She was of too weak a mind to hide these growing doubts and
+ever-augmenting suspicions. The miserable truth oozed out of her in
+foolish little speeches; those continual droppings that wear the
+hardest stone, and which wore even the adamantine surface of the
+Captain's tranquil temper. There was a homoeopathic admixture of this
+jealous poison in all the food he ate. He could rarely get through a
+_tete-a-tete_ breakfast or dinner undisturbed by some invidious remark.
+
+One day the Captain rose up in his strength, and grappled with this
+jealous demon. He had let the little speeches, the random shots, pass
+unheeded until now; but on one particularly dismal morning, a bleak
+March morning, when the rain beat against the windows, and the deodoras
+and cypresses were lashed and tormented by the blusterous wind, and the
+low sky was darkly gray, the captain's temper suddenly broke out.
+
+"My dear Pamela, is it possible that these whimpering little speeches
+of yours mean jealousy?" he asked, looking at her severely from under
+bent brows.
+
+"I'm sure I never said that I was jealous," faltered Pamela, stirring
+her tea with a nervous movement of her thin white band.
+
+"Of course not; no woman cares to describe herself in plain words as an
+idiot; but of late you have favoured me with a good many imbecile
+remarks, which all seem to tend one way. You are hurt and wounded when
+I am decently civil to the women I meet in society. Is that sensible or
+reasonable, in a woman of your age and experience?"
+
+"You used not to taunt me with my age before we were married, Conrad."
+
+"Do I taunt you with it now? I only say that a woman of forty,"--Mrs.
+Winstanley shuddered--"ought to have more sense than a girl of
+eighteen; and that a woman who had had twenty years' experience of
+well-bred society ought not to put on the silly jealousies of a
+school-girl trying to provoke a quarrel with her first lover."
+
+"It is all very well to pretend to think me weak and foolish, Conrad.
+Yes, I know I am weak, ridiculously weak, in loving you as intensely as
+I do. But I cannot help that. It is my nature to cling to others, as
+the ivy clings to the oak. I would have clung to Violet, if she had
+been more loving and lovable. But you cannot deny that your conduct to
+Lady Ellangowan yesterday afternoon was calculated to make any wife
+unhappy."
+
+"If a wife is to be unhappy because her husband talks to another woman
+about her horses and her gardens, I suppose I gave you sufficient cause
+for misery," answered the Captain sneeringly. "I can declare that Lady
+Ellangowan and I were talking of nothing more sentimental."
+
+"Oh, Conrad, it is not _what_ you talked about, though your voice was
+so subdued that it was impossible for anyone to know what you were
+saying----"
+
+"Except Lady Ellangowan."
+
+"It was your manner. The way you bent over her, your earnest
+expression."
+
+"Would you have had me stand three yards off and bawl at the lady? Or
+am I bound to assume that bored and vacuous countenance which some
+young men consider good form? Come, my dear Pamela, pray let us be
+reasonable. Here are you and I settled for life beside the domestic
+hearth. We have no children. We are not particularly well off--it will
+be as much as we shall be able to do, by-and-by, to make both ends
+meet. We are neither of us getting younger. These things are serious
+cares, and we have to bear them. Why should you add to these an
+imaginary trouble, a torment that has no existence, save in your own
+perverse mind? If you could but know my low estimate of the women to
+whom I am civil! I like society: and to get on in society a man must
+make himself agreeable to influential women. It is the women who have
+the reins in the social race, and by-and-by, if I should go into
+Parliament----"
+
+"Parliament!" cried his wife affrightedly. "You want to become a Member
+of Parliament, and to be out at all hours of the night! Our home-life
+would be altogether destroyed then."
+
+"My dear Pamela, if you take such pains to make our home-life
+miserable, it will be hardly worth preserving," retorted the Captain.
+
+"Conrad, I am going to ask you a question--a very solemn question."
+
+"You alarm me."
+
+"Long ago--before we were married--when Violet was arguing with me
+against our marriage--you know how vehemently she opposed it--"
+
+"Perfectly. Go on."
+
+"She told me that you had proposed to her before you proposed to me.
+Oh, Conrad, could that be true?"
+
+The heart-rending tone in which the question was asked, the pathetic
+look that accompanied it, convinced Captain Winstanley that, if he
+valued his domestic peace, he must perjure himself.
+
+"It had no more foundation than many other assertions of that young
+lady's," he said. "I may have paid her compliments, and praised her
+beauty; but how could I think of her for a wife, when you were by? Your
+soft confiding nature conquered me before I knew that I was hit."
+
+He got up and went over to his wife and kissed her kindly enough,
+feeling sorry for her as he might have done for a wayward child that
+weeps it scarce knows wherefore, oppressed by a vague sense of
+affliction.
+
+"Let us try to be happy together, Pamela," he pleaded, with a sigh,
+"life is weary work at best."
+
+"That means that you are not happy, Conrad."
+
+"My love, I am as happy as you will let me be."
+
+"Have I ever opposed you in anything?"
+
+"No, dear; but lately you have indulged in covert upbraidings that have
+plagued me sorely. Let us have no more of them. As for your
+daughter"--his face darkened at the mention of that name--"understand
+at once and for ever that she and I can never inhabit the same house.
+If she comes, I go. If you cannot live without her you must learn to
+live without me."
+
+"Conrad, what have I done that you should talk of such a thing? Have I
+asked you to let Violet come home?"
+
+"No, but you have behaved mopishly of late, as if you were pining for
+her return."
+
+"I pine for nothing but your love."
+
+"That has always been yours."
+
+With this assurance Mrs. Winstanley was fain to content herself, but
+even this assurance did not make her happy. The glory and brightness
+had departed from her life somehow; and neither kind words nor friendly
+smiles from the Captain could lure them back. There are stages in the
+lives of all of us when life seems hardly worth living: not periods of
+great calamity, but dull level bits of road along which the journey
+seems very weary. The sun has hidden himself behind gray clouds, cold
+winds are blowing up from the bitter east, the birds have left off
+singing, the landscape has lost its charm. We plod on drearily, and can
+see no Pole Star in life's darkening sky.
+
+It had been thus of late with Pamela Winstanley. Slowly and gradually
+the conviction had come to her that her second marriage had been a
+foolish and ill-advised transaction, resulting inevitably in sorrow and
+unavailing remorse. The sweet delusion that it had been a love-match on
+Captain Winstanley's side, as well as on her own, abandoned her all at
+once, and she found herself face to face with stern common-sense.
+
+That scene about Theodore's bill had exercised a curious effect upon
+her mind. To an intellect so narrow, trifles were important, and that
+the husband who had so much admired and praised the elegance of her
+appearance could grudge the cost of her toilet galled her sorely. It
+was positively for her the first revelation of her husband's character.
+His retrenchments in household expenses she had been ready to applaud
+as praiseworthy economies; but when he assailed her own extravagance,
+she saw in him a husband who loved far too wisely to love well.
+
+"If he cared for me, if he valued my good looks, he could never object
+to my spending a few pounds upon a dress," she told herself.
+
+She could not take the Captain's common-sense view of a subject so
+important to herself. Love in her mind meant a blind indulgence like
+the Squire's. Love that could count the cost of its idol's caprices,
+and calculate the chances of the future, was not love. That feeling of
+poverty, too, was a new sensation to the mistress of the Abbey House,
+and a very unpleasant one. Married very young to a man of ample means,
+who adored her, and never set the slightest restriction upon her
+expenditure, extravagance had become her second nature. To have to
+study every outlay, to ask herself whether she could not do without a
+thing, was a hard trial; but it had become so painful to her to ask the
+Captain for money that she preferred the novel pain of self-denial to
+that humiliation. And then there was the cheerless prospect of the
+future always staring her in the face, that dreary time after Violet's
+majority, when it would be a question whether she and her husband could
+afford to go on living at the Abbey House.
+
+"Everybody will know that my income is diminished," she thought.
+"However well we may manage, people will know that we are pinching."
+
+This was a vexatious reflection. The sting of poverty itself could not
+be so sharp as the pain of being known to be poor.
+
+Captain Winstanley pursued the even tenor of his way all this time, and
+troubled himself but little about his wife's petty sorrows. He did his
+duty to her according to his own lights, and considered that she had no
+ground for complaint. He even took pains to be less subdued in his
+manner to Lady Ellangowan, and to give no shadow of reason for the
+foolish jealousy he so much despised. His mind was busy about his own
+affairs. He had saved money since his marriage, and he employed himself
+a good deal in the investment of his savings. So far he had been lucky
+in all he touched, and had contrived to increase his capital by one or
+two speculative ventures in foreign railways. If things went on as well
+for the next six years he and his wife might live at the Abbey House,
+and maintain their station in the county, till the end of the chapter.
+
+"I daresay Pamela will outlive me," thought the Captain; "those
+fragile-looking invalid women are generally long lived. And I have all
+the chances of the hunting-field, and vicious horses, and other men's
+blundering with loaded guns, against me. What can happen to a woman who
+sits at home and works crewel antimacassars and reads novels all day,
+and never drinks anything stronger than tea, and never eats enough to
+disturb her digestion? She ought to be a female Methuselah."
+
+Secure in this idea of his wife's longevity, and happy in his
+speculations, Captain Winstanley looked forward cheerfully to the
+future: and the evil shadow of the day when the hand of fate should
+thrust him from the good old house where he was master had never fallen
+across his dreams.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+Love and AEsthetics.
+
+Spring had returned, primroses and violets were being sold at the
+street-corners, Parliament was assembled, and London had reawakened
+from its wintry hibernation to new life and vigour. The Dovedales were
+at their Kensington mansion. The Duchess had sent forth her cards for
+alternate Thursday evenings of a quasi-literary and scientific
+character. Lady Mabel was polishing her poems with serious thoughts of
+publication, but with strictest secrecy. No one but her parents and
+Roderick Vawdrey had been told of these poetic flights. The book would
+be given to the world under a _nom de plume_. Lady Mabel was not so
+much a Philistine as to suppose that writing good poetry could be a
+disgrace to a duke's daughter; but she felt that the house of Ashbourne
+would be seriously compromised were the critics to find her guilty of
+writing doggerel; and critics are apt to deal harshly with the titled
+muse. She remembered Brougham's savage onslaught upon the boy Byron.
+
+Mr. Vawdrey was in town. He rode a good deal in the Row, spent an hour
+or so daily at Tattersall's, haunted three or four clubs of a juvenile
+and frivolous character, drank numerous bottles of Apolinaris, and
+found the task of killing time rather hard labour. Of course there were
+certain hours in which he was on duty at Kensington. He was expected to
+eat his luncheon there daily, to dine when neither he nor the ducal
+house had any other engagement, and to attend all his aunt's parties.
+There was always a place reserved for him at the dinner-table, however
+middle-aged and politically or socially important the assembly might me.
+
+He was to be married early in August. Everything was arranged. The
+honeymoon was to be spent in Sweden and Norway--the only accessible
+part of Europe which Lady Mabel had not explored. They were to see
+everything remarkable in the two countries, and to do Denmark as well,
+if they had time. Lady Mabel was learning Swedish and Norwegian, in
+order to make the most of her opportunities.
+
+"It is so wretched to be dependent upon couriers and interpreters," she
+said. "I shall be a more useful companion for you, Roderick, if I
+thoroughly know the language of each country."
+
+"My dear Mabel, you are a most remarkable girl," exclaimed her
+betrothed admiringly. "If you go on at this rate, by the time you are
+forty you will be as great a linguist as Cardinal Wiseman."
+
+"Languages are very easy to learn when one has the habit of studying
+them, and a slight inclination for etymology," Lady Mabel replied
+modestly.
+
+Now that the hour of publication was really drawing nigh, the poetess
+began to feel the need of a confidante. The Duchess was admiring but
+somewhat obtuse, and rarely admired in the right place. The Duke was
+out of the question.
+
+If a new Shakespeare had favoured him with the first reading of a
+tragedy as great as "Hamlet," the Duke's thoughts would have wandered
+off to the impending dearth of guano, or the probable exhaustion of
+Suffolk punches, and the famous breed of Chillingham oxen. So, for want
+of anyone better, Lady Mabel was constrained to read her verses to her
+future husband; just as Moliere reads his plays to his housekeeper, for
+want of any other hearer, the two Bejarts, aunt and niece, having
+naturally plays enough and to spare in the theatre.
+
+Now, in this crucial hour of her poetic career, Mabel Ashbourne wanted
+something more than a patient listener. She wanted a critic with a fine
+ear for rhythm and euphony. She wanted a judge who could nicely weigh
+the music of a certain combination of syllables, and who could decide
+for her when she hesitated between two epithets of equal force, but
+varying depths of tone.
+
+To this nice task she invited her betrothed sometimes on a sunny April
+afternoon, when luncheon was over, and the lovers were free to repair
+to Lady Mabel's own particular den--an airy room on an upper floor,
+with quaint old Queen Anne casements opening upon a balcony crammed
+with flowers, and overlooking the umbrageous avenues of Kensington
+Garden, with a glimpse of the old red palace in the distance.
+
+Rorie did his best to be useful, and applied himself to his duty with
+perfect heartiness and good-temper; but luncheon and the depressing
+London atmosphere made him sleepy, and he had sometimes hard work to
+stifle his yawns, and to keep his eyes open, while Lady Mabel was deep
+in the entanglement of lines which soared to the seventh heaven of
+metaphysics. Unhappily Rorie knew hardly anything about metaphysics. He
+had never read Victor Cousin, or any of the great German lights; and a
+feeling of despair took possession of him when his sweetheart's poetry
+degenerated into diluted Hegelism, or rose to a feeble imitation of
+Browning's obscurest verse.
+
+"Either I must be intensely stupid or this must be rather difficult to
+understand," he thought helplessly, when Mabel had favoured him with
+the perusal of the first act of a tragedy or poetic dialogue, in which
+the hero, a kind of milk-and-watery Faustus, held converse, and argued
+upon the deeper questions of life and faith, with a very mild Mephisto.
+
+"I'm afraid you don't like the opening of my 'Tragedy of the Sceptic
+Soul'," Lady Mabel said with a somewhat offended air, as she looked up
+at the close of the act, and saw poor Rorie gazing at her with watery
+eyes, and an intensely despondent expression of countenance.
+
+"I'm afraid I'm rather dense this afternoon," he said with hasty
+apology, "I think your first act is beautifully written--the lines are
+full of music; nobody with an ear for euphony could doubt that; but
+I--forgive me, I fancy you are sometimes a shade too metaphysical--and
+those scientific terms which you occasionally employ, I fear will be a
+little over the heads of the general public----"
+
+"My dear Roderick, do you suppose that in an age whose highest
+characteristic is the rapid advance of scientific knowledge, there can
+be anybody so benighted as not to understand the terminology of
+science?"
+
+"Perhaps not, dear. I fear I am very much behind the times. I have
+lived too much in Hampshire. I frankly confess that some expressions in
+your--er--Tragedy of--er--Soulless Scept--Sceptic Soul--were Greek to
+me."
+
+"Poor dear Roderick, I should hardly take you as the highest example of
+the _Zeitgeist;_ but I won't allow you to call yourself stupid. I'm
+glad you like the swing of the verse. Did it remind you of any
+contemporary poet?"
+
+"Well, yes, I think it dimly suggested Browning."
+
+"I am glad of that. I would not for worlds be an imitator; but Browning
+is my idol among poets."
+
+"Some of his minor pieces are awfully jolly," said the incorrigible
+Rorie. "That little poem called 'Youth and Art,' for instance. And
+'James Lee's Wife' is rather nice, if one could quite get at what it
+means. But I suppose that is too much to expect from any great poet?"
+
+"There are deeper meanings beneath the surface--meanings which require
+study," replied Mabel condescendingly. "Those are the religion of
+poetry----"
+
+"No doubt," assented Rorie hastily; "but frankly, my dear Mabel, if you
+want your book to be popular----"
+
+"I don't want my book to be popular. Browning is not popular. If I had
+wanted to be popular, I should have worked on a lower level. I would
+even have stooped to write a novel."
+
+"Well then I will say, if you want your poem to be understood by the
+average intellect, I really would sink the scientific terminology, and
+throw overboard a good deal of the metaphysics. Byron has not a
+scientific or technical phrase in all his poems."
+
+"My dear Roderick, you surely would not compare me to Byron, the poet
+of the Philistines. You might as well compare me with the author of
+'Lalla Rookh,' or advise me to write like Rogers or Campbell."
+
+"I beg your pardon, my dear Mabel. I'm afraid I must be an out and out
+Philistine, for to my mind Byron is the prince of poets. I would rather
+have written 'The Giaour' than anything that has ever been published
+since it appeared."
+
+"My poor Roderick!" exclaimed Mabel, with a pitying sigh. "You might as
+well say you would be proud of having written 'The Pickwick Papers'."
+
+"And so I should!" cried Rorie heartily. "I should think no end of
+myself if I had invented Winkle. Do you remember his ride from
+Rochester to Dingley Dell?--one of the finest things that was ever
+written."
+
+And this incorrigible young man flung himself back in the low
+arm-chair, and laughed heartily at the mere recollection of that
+episode in the life of the famous Nathaniel. Mabel Ashbourne closed her
+manuscript volume with a sigh, and registered an oath that she would
+never read any more of her poetry to Roderick Vawdrey. It was quite
+useless. The poor young man meant well, but he was incorrigibly
+stupid--a man who admired Byron and Dickens, and believed Macaulay the
+first of historians.
+
+"In the realm of thought we must dwell apart all our lives," Mabel told
+herself despairingly.
+
+"The horses are ordered for five," she said, as she locked the precious
+volume in her desk; "will you get yours and come back for me?"
+
+"I shall be delighted," answered her lover, relieved at being let off
+so easily.
+
+It was about this time that Lord Mallow, who was working with all his
+might for the regeneration of his country, made a great hit in the
+House by his speech on the Irish land question. He had been doing
+wonderful things in Dublin during the winter, holding forth to
+patriotic assemblies in the Round Room of the Rotunda, boldly declaring
+himself a champion of the Home Rulers' cause, demanding Repeal and
+nothing but Repeal. He was one of the few Repealers who had a stake in
+the country, and who was likely to lose by the disruption of social
+order. If foolish, he was at least disinterested, and had the courage
+of his opinions. This was in the days when Mr. Gladstone was Prime
+Minister, and when Irish Radicals looked to him as the one man who
+could and would give them Home Rule.
+
+In the House of Commons Lord Mallow was not ashamed to repeat the
+arguments he had used in the Round Room. If his language was less
+vehement at Westminster than it had been in Dublin, his opinions were
+no less thorough. He had his party here, as well as on the other side
+of the Irish Channel; and his party applauded him. Here was a statesman
+and a landowner willing to give an ell, where Mr. Gladstone's Land Act
+gave only an inch. Hibernian newspapers sung his praises in glowing
+words, comparing him to Burke, Curran, and O'Connell. He had for some
+time been a small lion at evening parties; he now began to be lionised
+at serious dinners. He was thought much of in Carlton Gardens, and his
+name figured at official banquets in Downing Street. The Duchess of
+Dovedale considered it a nice trait in his character that, although he
+was so much in request, and worked so hard in the House, he never
+missed one of her Thursday evenings. Even when there was an important
+debate on he would tear up Birdcage Walk in a hansom, and spend an hour
+in the Duchess's amber drawing-rooms, enlightening Lady Mabel as to the
+latest aspect of the Policy of Conciliation, or standing by the piano
+while she played Chopin.
+
+Lord Mallow had never forgotten his delight at finding a young lady
+thoroughly acquainted with the history of his native land, thoroughly
+interested in Erin's struggles and Erin's hopes; a young lady who knew
+all about the Protestants of Ulster, and what was meant by Fixity of
+Tenure. He came to Lady Mabel naturally in his triumphs, and he came to
+her in his disappointments. She was pleased and flattered by his faith
+in her wisdom, and was always ready to lend a gracious ear. She, whose
+soul was full of ambition, was deeply interested in the career of an
+ambitious young man--a man who had every excuse for being shallow and
+idle, and yet was neither.
+
+"If Roderick were only like him there would be nothing wanting in my
+life," she thought regretfully. "I should have felt much a pride in a
+husband's fame, I should have worked so gladly to assist him in his
+career. The driest blue-books would not have been too weary for me--the
+dullest drudgery of parliamentary detail would have been pleasant work,
+if it could have helped him in his progress to political distinctions."
+
+One evening, when Mabel and Lord Mallow were standing in the embrasure
+of a window, walled in by the crowd of aristocratic nobodies and
+intellectual eccentricities, talking earnestly of poor Erin and her
+chances of ultimate happiness, the lady, almost unawares, quoted a
+couplet of her own which seemed peculiarly applicable to the argument.
+
+"Whose lines are those?" Lord Mallow asked eagerly; "I never heard them
+before."
+
+Mabel blushed like a schoolgirl detected in sending a valentine.
+
+"Upon my soul," cried the Irishman, "I believe they are your own! Yes,
+I am sure of it. You, whose mind is so high above the common level,
+must sometimes express yourself in poetry. They are yours, are they
+not?"
+
+"Can you keep a secret?" Lady Mabel asked shyly.
+
+"For you? Yes, on the rack. Wild horses should not tear it out of my
+heart; boiling lead, falling on me drop by drop, should not extort it
+from me."
+
+"The lines are mine. I have written a good deal--in verse. I am going
+to publish a volume, anonymously, before the season is over. It is
+quite a secret. No one--except mamma and papa, and Mr. Vawdrey--knows
+anything about it."
+
+"How proud they--how especially proud Mr. Vawdrey must be of your
+genius," said Lord Mallow. "What a lucky fellow he is."
+
+He was thinking just at that moment of Violet Tempest, to whose secret
+preference for Roderick Vawdrey he attributed his own rejection. And
+now here--where again he might have found the fair ideal of his
+youthful dreams--here where he might have hoped to form an alliance at
+once socially and politically advantageous--this young Hampshire's
+squire was before him.
+
+"I don't think Mr. Vawdrey is particularly interested in my poetical
+efforts," Lady Mabel said with assumed carelessness. "He doesn't care
+for poetry. He likes Byron."
+
+"What an admirable epigram!" cried the Hibernian, to whom flattery was
+second nature. "I shall put that down in my commonplace book when I go
+home. How I wish you would honour me--but it is to ask too much,
+perhaps--how proud I should be if you would let me hear, or see, some
+of your poems."
+
+"Would you really like----?" faltered Lady Mabel.
+
+"Like! I should deem it the highest privilege your friendship could
+vouchsafe."
+
+"If I felt sure it would not bore you, I should like much to have your
+opinion, your candid opinion," (Lord Mallow tried to look the essense
+of candour) "upon some things I have written. But it would be really to
+impose too much upon your good-nature."
+
+"It would be to make me the proudest, and--for that one brief hour at
+least--the happiest of men," protested Lord Mallow, looking intensely
+sentimental.
+
+"And you will deal frankly with me? You will not flatter? You will be
+as severe as an Edinburgh reviewer?"
+
+"I will be positively brutal," said Lord Mallow. "I will try to imagine
+myself an elderly feminine contributor to the 'Saturday,' looking at
+you with vinegar gaze through a pair of spectacles, bent upon spotting
+every fleck and flaw in your work, and predetermined not to see
+anything good in it."
+
+"Then I will trust you!" cried Lady Mabel, with a gush. "I have longed
+for a listener who could understand and criticise, and who would be too
+honourable to flatter. I will trust you, as Marguerite of Valois
+trusted Clement Marot."
+
+Lord Mallow did not know anything about the French poet and his royal
+mistress, but he contrived to look as if he did. And, before he ran
+away to the House presently, he gave Lady Mabel's hand a tender little
+pressure which she accepted in all good faith as a sign manual of the
+compact between them.
+
+They met in the Row next morning, and Lord Mallow asked--as earnestly
+as if the answer involved vital issues--when he might be permitted to
+hear those interesting poems.
+
+"Whenever you can spare time to listen," answered Lady Mabel, more
+flattered by his earnestness than by all the adulatory nigar-plums
+which had been showered upon her since her _debut_. "If you have
+nothing better to do this afternoon----"
+
+"Could I have anything better to do?"
+
+"We won't enter upon so wide a question," said Lady Mabel, laughing
+prettily. "If committee-rooms and public affairs can spare you for an
+hour or two, come to tea with mamma at five. I'll get her to deny
+herself to all the rest of the world, and we can have an undisturbed
+hour in which you can deal severely with my poor little efforts."
+
+Thus it happened that, in the sweet spring weather, while Roderick was
+on the stand at Epsom, watching the City and Suburban winner pursue his
+meteor course along the close-cropped sward, Lord Mallow was sitting at
+ease in a flowery fauteuil in the Queen Anne morning-room at
+Kensington, sipping orange-scented tea out of eggshell porcelain, and
+listening to Lady Mabel's dulcet accents, as she somewhat monotonously
+and inexpressively rehearsed "The Tragedy of a Sceptic Soul."
+
+The poem was long, and, sooth to say, passing dreary; and, much as he
+admired the Duke's daughter, there were moments when Lord Mallow felt
+his eyelids drooping, and heard a buzzing, as of summer insects, in his
+ears.
+
+There was no point of interest in all this rhythmical meandering
+whereon the hapless young nobleman could fix his attention. Another
+minute and his sceptic soul would be wandering at ease in the flowery
+fields of sleep. He pulled himself together with an effort, just as the
+eggshell cup and saucer were slipping from his relaxing grasp. He asked
+the Duchess for another cup of that delicious tea. He gazed resolutely
+at the fair-faced maiden, whose rosy lips moved graciously, discoursing
+shallowest platitudes clothed in erudite polysyllables, and then at the
+first pause--when Lady Mabel laid down her velvet-bound volume, and
+looked timidly upward for his opinion--Lord Mallow poured forth a
+torrent of eloquence, such as he always had in stock, and praised "The
+Sceptic Soul" as no poem and no poet had ever been praised before, save
+by Hibernian critic.
+
+The richness, the melody, the depth, colour, brilliance, tone, variety,
+far-reaching thought, &c., &c., &c.
+
+He was so grateful to Providence for having escaped falling asleep that
+he could have gone on for ever in this strain. But if anyone had asked
+Lord Mallow what "The Tragedy of a Sceptic Soul" was about, Lord Mallow
+would have been spun.
+
+When a strong-minded woman is weak upon one particular point she is apt
+to be very weak. Lady Mabel's weakness was to fancy herself a second
+Browning. She had never yet enjoyed the bliss of having her own idea of
+herself confirmed by independent evidence. Her soul thrilled as Lord
+Mallow poured forth his praises; talking of "The Book and the Ring,"
+and "Paracelsus," and a great deal more, of which he knew very little,
+and seeing in the expression of Lady Mabel's eyes and mouth that he was
+saying exactly the right thing, and could hardly say too much.
+
+They were _tete-a-tete_ by this time, for the Duchess was sleeping
+frankly, her crewel-work drooping from the hands that lay idle in her
+lap; her second cup of tea on the table beside her, half-finished.
+
+"I don't know how it is," she was wont to say apologetically, after
+these placid slumbers. "There is something in Mabel's voice that always
+sends me to sleep. Her tones are so musical."
+
+"And do you really advise me to publish?" asked Lady Mabel, fluttered
+and happy.
+
+"It would be a sin to keep such verses hidden from the world."
+
+"They will be published anonymously, of course. I could not endure to
+be pointed at as the author of 'The Sceptic Soul.' To feel that every
+eye was upon me--at the opera--in the Row--everywhere! It would be too
+dreadful. I should be proud to know that I had influenced my age--given
+a new bent to thought--but no one must be able to point at me."
+
+"'Thou canst not say I did it,'" quoted Lord Mallow. "I entirely
+appreciate your feelings. Publicity of that sort must be revolting to a
+delicate mind. I should think Byron would have enjoyed life a great
+deal better if he had never been known as the author of 'Childe
+Harold.' He reduced himself to a social play-actor--and always had to
+pose in his particular role--the Noble Poet. If Bacon really wrote the
+plays we call Shakespeare's, and kept the secret all his life, he was
+indeed the wisest of mankind."
+
+"You have done nothing but praise me," said Lady Mabel, after a
+thoughtful pause, during which she had trifled with the golden clasp of
+her volume; "I want you to do something more than that. I want you to
+advise--to tell me where I am redundant--to point out where I am weak.
+I want you to help me in the labour of polishing."
+
+Lord Mallow pulled his whisker doubtfully. This was dreadful. He should
+have to go into particulars presently, to say what lines pleased him
+best, which of the various meters into which the tragedy was broken
+up--like a new suburb into squares and crescents and streets--seemed to
+him happiest and most original.
+
+"Can you trust me with that precious volume?" he asked. "If you can, I
+will spend the quiet hours of the night in pondering over its pages,
+and will give you the result of my meditations to-morrow."
+
+Mabel put the book into his hand with a grateful smile.
+
+"Pray be frank with me," she pleaded. "Praise like yours is perilous."
+
+Lord Mallow kissed her hand this time, instead of merely pressing it,
+and went away radiant, with the velvet-bound book under his arm.
+
+"She's a sweet girl," he said to himself, as he hailed a cab. "I wish
+she wasn't engaged to that Hampshire booby, and I wish she didn't write
+poetry. Hard that I should have to do the Hampshire booby's work! If I
+were to leave this book in a hansom now--there'd be an awful situation!"
+
+Happily for the rising statesman, he was blest with a clever young
+secretary, who wrote a good many letters for him, read blue-books, got
+up statistics, and interviewed obtrusive visitors from the Green Isle.
+To this young student Lord Mallow, in strictest secrecy, confided Lady
+Mabel's manuscript.
+
+"Read it carefully, Allan, while I'm at the house, and make a note of
+everything that's bad on one sheet of paper, and of everything that's
+good on another. You may just run your pencil along the margin wherever
+you think I might write 'divine!' 'grandly original!' 'what pathos!' or
+anything of that sort."
+
+The secretary was a conscientious young man, and did his work nobly. He
+sat far into the small hours, ploughing through "The Sceptic Soul." It
+was tough work; but Mr. Allan was Scotch and dogged, and prided himself
+upon his critical faculty. This autopsy of a fine lady's poem was a
+congenial labour. He scribbled pages of criticism, went into the
+minutest details of style, found a great deal to blame and not much to
+praise, and gave his employer a complete digest of the poem before
+breakfast next morning.
+
+Lord Mallow attended the Duchess's kettledrum again that afternoon, and
+this time he was in no wise at sea. He handled "The Sceptic Soul" as if
+every line of it had been engraven on the tablet of his mind.
+
+"See here now," he cried, turning to a pencilled margin; "I call this a
+remarkable passage, yet I think it might be strengthened by some
+trifling excisions;" and then he showed Lady Mabel how, by pruning
+twenty lines off a passage of thirty-one, a much finer effect might be
+attained.
+
+"And you really think my thought stands out more clearly?" asked Mabel,
+looking regretfully at the lines through which Lord Mallow had run his
+pencil--some of her finest lines.
+
+"I am sure of it. That grand idea of yours was like a star in a hazy
+sky. We have cleared away the fog."
+
+Lady Mabel sighed. "To me the meaning of the whole passage seemed so
+obvious," she said.
+
+"Because it was your own thought. A mother knows her own children
+however they are dressed."
+
+This second tea-drinking was a very serious affair. Lord Mallow went at
+the poem like a professional reviewer, and criticised without mercy,
+yet contrived not to wound the author's vanity.
+
+"It is because you have real genius that I venture to be brutally
+candid," he said, when, by those slap-dash pencil-marks of his--always
+with the author's consent--he had reduced the "Tragedy of the Sceptic
+Soul" to about one-third of its original length. "I was carried away
+yesterday by my first impressions; to-day I am coldly critical. I have
+set my heart upon your poem making a great success."
+
+This last sentence, freely translated, might be taken to mean: "I
+should not like such an elegant young woman to make an utter fool of
+herself."
+
+Mr. Vawdrey came in while critic and poet were at work, and was told
+what they were doing. He evinced no unworthy jealousy, but seemed glad
+that Lord Mallow should be so useful.
+
+"It's a very fine poem," he said, "but there's too much metaphysics in
+it. I told Mabel so the other day. She must alter a good deal of it if
+she wants to be understanded of the people."
+
+"My dear Roderick, my poem is metaphysical or it is nothing," Mabel
+answered pettishly.
+
+She could bear criticism from Lord Mallow better than criticism from
+Roderick. After this it became an established custom for Lord Mallow to
+drop in every day to inspect the progress of Lady Mabel's poems in the
+course of their preparation for the press. The business part of the
+matter had been delegated to him, as much more _au fait_ in such things
+than homely rustic Rorie. He chose the publisher and arranged the size
+of the volume, type, binding, initials, tail-pieces, every detail. The
+paper was to be thick and creamy, the type mediaeval, the borders were
+to be printed in carmine, the initials and tail-pieces specially drawn
+and engraved, and as quaint as the wood-cuts in an old edition of "_Le
+Lutrin_." The book was to have red edges, and a smooth gray linen
+binding with silver lettering. It was to be altogether a gem of
+typographic art, worthy of Firmin Didot.
+
+By the end of May, Lady Mabel's poems were all in type, and there was
+much discussion about commas and notes of admiration, syllables too
+much or too little, in the flowery morning-room at Kensington, what
+time Roderick Vawdrey--sorely at a loss for occupation--wasted the
+summer hours at races or regattas within easy reach of London, or went
+to out-of-the-way places, to look at hunters of wonderful repute,
+which, on inspection, were generally disappointing.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+Crumpled Rose-Leaves.
+
+Violet Tempest had been away from home nearly a year, and to the few
+old servants remaining at the Abbey House, and to the villagers who had
+known and loved her, it seemed as if a light had gone out.
+
+"It's like it was after the Squire's death, when miss and her ma was
+away," said one gossip to another; "the world seems empty."
+
+Mrs. Winstanley and her husband had been living as became people of
+some pretension to rank and fashion. They saw very little of each
+other, but were seen together on all fitting occasions. The morning
+service in the little church at Beechdale would not have seemed
+complete without those two figures. The faded beauty in trailing silken
+draperies and diaphanous bonnet, the slim, well-dressed Captain, with
+his bronzed face and black whiskers. They were in everybody's idea the
+happiest example of married bliss. If the lady's languid loveliness had
+faded more within the last year or so than in the ten years that went
+before it, if her slow step had grown slower, her white hand more
+transparent, there were no keen loving eyes to mark the change.
+
+"That affectation of valetudinarianism is growing on Mrs. Winstanley,"
+Mrs. Scobel said one day to her husband. "It is a pity. I believe the
+Captain encourages it."
+
+"She has not looked so well since Violet went away," answered the
+kindly parson. "It seems an unnatural thing for mother and daughter to
+be separated."
+
+"I don't know that, dear. The Bible says a man should leave mother and
+father and cleave to his wife. Poor Violet was a discordant element in
+that household. Mrs. Winstanley must feel much happier now she is away."
+
+"I can't tell how she feels," answered the Vicar doubtfully; "but she
+does not look so happy as she did when Violet was at home."
+
+"The fact is she gives way too much," exclaimed active little Mrs.
+Scobel, who had never given way in her life. "When she has a head-ache
+she lies in bed, and has the venetian blinds kept down, just as if she
+were dying. No wonder she looks pale and----"
+
+"Etiolated," said the Vicar; "perishing for want of light. But I
+believe it's moral sunshine that is wanted there, my dear Fanny, say
+what you will."
+
+Mr. Scobel was correct in his judgment. Pamela Winstanley was a most
+unhappy woman--an unhappy woman without one tangible cause of
+complaint. True that her daughter was banished; but she was banished
+with the mother's full consent. Her personal extravagances had been
+curtailed; but she was fain to admit that the curtailment was wise,
+necessary, and for her own future benefit. Her husband was all
+kindness; and surely she could not be angry with him if he seemed to
+grow younger every day--rejuvenated by regular habits and rustic
+life--while in her wan face the lines of care daily deepened, until it
+would have needed art far beyond the power of any modern Medea to
+conceal Time's ravages. Your modern Medeas are such poor
+creatures--loathsome as Horace's Canidia, but without her genius or her
+power.
+
+"I am getting an old woman," sighed Mrs. Winstanley. "It is lucky I am
+not without resources against solitude and age."
+
+Her resources were a tepid appreciation of modern idyllic poetry, as
+exemplified in the weaker poems of Tennyson, and the works of Adelaide
+Proctor and Jean Ingelow, a talent for embroidering conventional
+foliage and flowers on kitchen towelling, and for the laborious
+conversion of Nottingham braid into Venetian point-lace.
+
+She had taken it into her head of late to withdraw herself altogether
+from society, save from such friends who liked her well enough, or were
+sufficiently perplexed as to the disposal of their lives, to waste an
+occasional hour over gossip and orange pekoe. She had now permanently
+assumed that _role_ of an invalid which she had always somewhat
+affected.
+
+"I am really not well enough to go to dinner-parties, Conrad," she
+said, when her husband politely argued against her refusal of an
+invitation, with just that mild entreaty which too plainly means, "I
+don't care a jot whether you go with me or stay at home."
+
+"But, my dear Pamela, a little gaiety would give you a fillip."
+
+"No, it would not, Conrad. It would worry me to go to Lady Ellangowan's
+in one of last season's dresses; and I quite agree with you that I must
+spend no more money with Theodore."
+
+"Why not wear your black velvet?"
+
+"Too obvious a _pis aller_. I have not enough diamonds to carry off
+black velvet."
+
+"But your fine old lace--rose-point, I think you call it--surely that
+would carry off black velvet for once in a way."
+
+"My dear Conrad, Lady Ellangowan knows my rose-point by heart. She
+always compliments me about it--an artful way of letting me know often
+she has seen it. 'Oh there is that rose-point of yours, dear Mrs.
+Winstanley; it is too lovely.' I know her! No, Conrad; I will not go to
+the Ellangowans in a dress made last year; or in any _rechauffe_ of
+velvet and lace. I hope I have a proper pride that would always
+preserve me from humiliation of that kind. Besides, I am not strong
+enough to go to parties. You may not believe me, Conrad, but I am
+really ill."
+
+The Captain put on an unhappy look, and murmured something sympathetic:
+but he did not believe in the reality of his wife's ailments. She had
+played the invalid more or less ever since their marriage; and he had
+grown accustomed to the assumption as a part of his wife's daily
+existence--a mere idiosyncrasy, like her love of fine dress and strong
+tea. If at dinner she ate hardly enough for a bird, he concluded that
+she had spoiled her appetite at luncheon, or by the consumption of
+sweet biscuits and pound-cake at five o'clock. Her refusal of all
+invitations to dinners and garden-parties he attributed to her folly
+about dress, and to that alone. Those other reasons which she put
+forward--of weakness, languor, low spirits--were to Captain
+Winstanley's mind mere disguises for temper. She had not, in her heart
+of hearts, forgiven him for closing Madame Theodore's account.
+
+Thus, wilfully blind to a truth which was soon to become obvious to all
+the world, he let the insidious foe steal across his threshold, and
+guessed not how soon that dark and hidden enemy was to drive him from
+the hearth by which he sat, secure in self-approval and sagacious
+schemes for the future.
+
+Once a week, through all the long year, there had come a dutiful letter
+from Violet to her mother. The letters were often brief--what could the
+girl find to tell in her desert island?--but they were always kind, and
+they were a source of comfort to the mother's empty heart. Mrs.
+Winstanley answered unfailingly, and her Jersey letter was one of the
+chief events of each week. She was fonder of her daughter at a distance
+than she had ever been when they were together. "That will be something
+to tell Violet," she would say of any inane bit of gossip that was
+whispered across the afternoon tea-cups.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+A Fool's Paradise.
+
+At Ashbourne preparations had already begun for the wedding in August.
+It was to be a wedding worthy of a duke's only daughter, the well-beloved
+and cherished child of an adoring father and mother. Kinsfolk and old
+friends were coming from far and wide to assist at the ceremony, for
+whom temporary rooms were to be arranged in all manner of places. The
+Duchess's exquisite dairy was to be transformed into a bachelor
+dormitory. Lodges and gamekeepers' cottages were utilised. Every nook
+and corner in the ducal mansion would be full.
+
+"Why not rig up a few hammocks in the nearest pine plantation?" Rorie
+asked, laughing, when he heard of all these doings. "One couldn't have
+a better place to sleep on a sultry summer night."
+
+There was to be a ball for the tenantry in the evening of the
+wedding-day, in a marquee on the lawn. The gardens were to be
+illuminated in a style worthy of the chateau of Vaux, when Fouquet was
+squandering a nation's revenues on lamps and fountains and venal
+friends. Lady Mabel protested against all this fuss.
+
+"Dear mamma, I would so much rather have been married quietly,' she
+said.
+
+"My dearest, it is all your papa's doing. He is so proud of you. And
+then we have only one daughter; and she is not likely to be married
+more than once, I hope. Why should we not have all our friends round us
+at such a time?"
+
+Mabel shrugged her shoulders, with an air of repugnance to all the
+friends and all the fuss.
+
+"Marriage is such a solemn act of one's life," she said. "It seems
+dreadful that it should be performed in the midst of a gaping,
+indifferent crowd."
+
+"My love, there will not be a creature present who can feel indifferent
+about your welfare," protested the devoted mother. "If our dear
+Roderick had been a more distinguished person, your papa would have had
+you married in Westminster Abbey. There of course there would have been
+a crowd of idle spectators."
+
+"Poor Roderick," sighed Mabel. "It is a pity he is so utterly aimless.
+He might have made a career for himself by this time, if he had chosen."
+
+"He will do something by-and-by, I daresay," said the Duchess,
+excusingly. "You will be able to mould him as you like, pet."
+
+"I have not found him particularly malleable hitherto," said Mabel.
+
+The bride elect was out of spirits, and inclined to look despondently
+upon life. She was suffering the bitter pain of disappointed hopes.
+"The Tragedy of a Sceptic Soul," despite its depth of thought, its
+exquisite typography and vellum-like paper, had been a dire and
+irredeemable failure. The reviewers had ground the poor little
+aristocratic butterfly to powder upon the wheel of ridicule. They had
+anatomised Lady Mabel's involved sentences, and laughed at her erudite
+phrases. Her mild adaptations of Greek thought and fancy had been found
+out, and held up to contempt. Her petty plagiarisms from French and
+German poets had been traced to their source. The whole work, so smooth
+and neatly polished on the outside, had been turned the seamy side
+without, and the knots and flaws and ravelled threads had been exposed
+without pity.
+
+Happily the book was anonymous: but Mabel writhed under the criticism.
+There was the crushing disappointment of expectations that had soared
+high as the topmost throne on Parnassus. She had a long way to descend.
+And then there was the sickening certainty that in the eyes of her own
+small circle she had made herself ridiculous. Her mother took those
+cruel reviews to heart, and wept over them. The Duke, a coarse-minded
+man, at best, with a soul hardly above guano and chemical composts,
+laughed aloud at his poor little girl's failure.
+
+"It's a sad disappointment, I daresay," he said, "but never mind, my
+pet, you'll do better next time, I've no doubt. Or if you don't, it
+doesn't much matter. Other people have fancied themselves poets, and
+have been deceived, before to-day."
+
+"Those horrid reviewers don't understand her poetry," protested the
+Duchess, who would have been hard pushed to comprehend it herself, but
+who thought it was a critic's business to understand everything.
+
+"I'm afraid I have written above their heads," Lady Mabel said
+piteously.
+
+Roderick Vawdrey was worst of all.
+
+"Didn't I tell you 'The Sceptic Soul' was too fine for ordinary
+intellects, Mab?" he said. "You lost yourself in an ocean of obscurity.
+You knew what you meant, but there's no man alive who could follow you.
+You ought to have remembered Voltaire's definition of a metaphysical
+discussion, a conversation in which the man who is talked to doesn't
+understand the man who talks, and the man who talks doesn't understand
+himself. You must take a simpler subject and use plainer English if you
+want to please the multitude."
+
+Mabel had told her lover before that she did not aspire to please the
+multitude, that she would have esteemed such cheap and tawdry success a
+humiliating failure. It was almost better not to be read at all than to
+be appreciated only by the average Mudie subscriber. But she would have
+liked someone to read her poems. She would have liked critics to praise
+and understand her. She would have liked to have her own small world of
+admirers, an esoteric few, the salt of the earth, literary Essenes,
+holding themselves apart from the vulgar herd. It was dreadful to find
+herself on a height as lonely as one of those plateaux in the Tyrolean
+Alps where the cattle crop a scanty herbage in summer, and where the
+Ice King reigns alone through the long winter.
+
+"You are mistaken, Roderick," Mabel said with chilling dignity; "I have
+friends who can understand and admire my poetry, incomprehensible and
+uninteresting as it may be to you."
+
+"Dear Mabel, I never said it was uninteresting," Roderick cried humbly;
+"everything you do must be interesting to me. But I frankly own I do
+not understand your verses as clearly as I think all verse should be
+understood. Why should I keep all my frankness till after the first of
+August? Why should the lover be less sincere than the husband? I will
+be truthful even at the risk of offending you."
+
+"Pray do," cried Mabel, with ill-suppressed irritation. "Sincerity is
+such a delightful thing. No doubt my critics are sincere. They give me
+the honest undisguised truth."
+
+Rorie saw that his betrothed's literary failure was a subject to be
+carefully avoided in future.
+
+"My poor Vixen," he said to himself, with oh! what deep regret,
+"perhaps it was not one of the least of your charms that you never
+wrote poetry."
+
+Lord Mallow was coming to Ashbourne for the fortnight before the
+wedding. He had made himself wondrously agreeable to the Duke, and the
+Duke had invited him. The House would be up by that time. It was a
+delightful season for the Forest. The heather would be in bloom on all
+the open heights, the glades of Mark Ash would be a solemn world of
+greenery and shadow, a delicious place for picnics, flirtation, and
+gipsy tea-drinkings. Lord Mallow had only seen the Forest in the
+winter. It would be a grand opportunity for him.
+
+He came, and Lady Mabel received him with a sad sweet smile. The
+reviews had all appeared by this time: and, except in the _West
+Dulmarsh Gazette_ and the _Ratdiff Highway Register_, there had not
+been one favourable notice.
+
+"There is a dreadful unanimity about my critics, is there not?" said
+the stricken poetess, when she and Lord Mallow found themselves alone
+together in one of the orchid-houses, breathing a perfumed atmosphere
+at eighty degrees, vaporous, balmy, slumberous.
+
+"You have made a tremendous mistake, Lady Mabel," said Lord Mallow.
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"You have given the world your great book without first educating your
+public to receive and understand it. If Browning had done the same
+thing--if Browning had burst at once upon the world with 'The Ring and
+the Book' he would have been as great a failure as--as--you at present
+imagine yourself to be. You should have sent forth something smaller.
+You should have made the reading world familiar with a style, too
+original, and of too large a power and scope, to please quickly. A
+volume of ballads and idyls--a short story in simple verse--would have
+prepared the way for your dramatic poem. Suppose Goethe had begun his
+literary career with the second part of 'Faust'! He was too wise for
+that, and wrote himself into popularity with a claptrap novel."
+
+"I could not write a claptrap novel, or claptrap verses," sighed Lady
+Mabel. "If I cannot soar above the clouds, I will never spread my poor
+little wings again."
+
+"Then you must be content to accept your failure as an evidence of the
+tendencies of an essentially Philistine age--an age in which people
+admire Brown, and Jones, and Robinson."
+
+Here Lord Mallow gave a string of names, sacrificing the most famous
+reputations of the age to Mabel Ashbourne's vanity.
+
+This brief conversation in the orchid-house was the first healing balm
+that had been applied to the bleeding heart of the poetess. She was
+deeply grateful to Lord Mallow. This was indeed sympathy. How different
+from Roderick's clumsy advice and obtrusive affectation of candour.
+Mabel determined that she would do her best to make Lord Mallow's visit
+pleasant. She gave him a good deal of her society, in fact all she
+could spare from Roderick, who was not an exacting lover. They were so
+soon to be married that really there was no occasion for them to be
+greedy of _tete-a-tete_ companionship. They would have enough of each
+other's company among the Norwegian fjords.
+
+Lord Mallow did not care about riding under an almost tropical sun, nor
+did he care to expose his horse to the exasperating attacks of
+forest-flies; so he went about with the Duchess and her daughter in
+Lady Mabel's pony carriage--he saw schools and cottages--and told the
+two ladies all the grand things he meant to do on his Irish estate when
+he had leisure to do them.
+
+"You must wait till you are married," said the Duchess good-naturedly.
+"Ladies understand these details so much better than gentlemen. Mabel
+more than half planned those cottages you admired just now. She took
+the drawings out of the architect's hands, and altered them according
+to her own taste."
+
+"And as a natural result, the cottages are perfection!" exclaimed Lord
+Mallow.
+
+That visit to Ashbourne was one of the most memorable periods in Lord
+Mallow's life. He was an impressible young man, and he had been
+unconsciously falling deeper in love with Lady Mabel every day during
+the last three months. Her delicate beauty, her culture, her elegance,
+her rank, all charmed and fascinated him; but her sympathy with Erin
+was irresistible. It was not the first time that he had been in love,
+by a great many times. The list of the idols he had worshipped
+stretched backwards to the dim remoteness of boyhood. But to-day,
+awakening all at once to a keen perception of his hapless state, he
+told himself that he had never loved before as he loved now.
+
+He had been hard hit by Miss Tempest. Yes, he acknowledged that past
+weakness. He had thought her fairest and most delightful among women,
+and he had left the Abbey House dejected and undone. But he had quickly
+recovered from the brief fever: and now, reverentially admiring Lady
+Mabel's prim propriety, he wondered that he could have ever seriously
+offered himself to a girl of Vixen's undisciplined and unbroken
+character.
+
+"I should have been a miserable man by this time if she had accepted
+me," he thought. "She did not care a straw about the People of Ireland."
+
+He was deeply, hopelessly, irrecoverably in love; and the lady he loved
+was to be married to another man in less than a week. The situation was
+too awful. What could such a woman as Mabel Ashbourne see in such a man
+as Roderick Vawdrey. That is a kind of question which has been asked
+very often in the history of men and women. Lord Mallow could find no
+satisfactory answer thereto. Mr. Vawdrey was well enough in his way--he
+was good-looking, sufficiently well-bred; he rode well, was a
+first-rate shot, and could give an average player odds at billiards.
+Surely these were small claims to the love of a tenth muse, a rarely
+accomplished and perfect woman. If Lord Mallow, in his heart of hearts,
+thought no great things of Lady Mabel's poetic effusions, he not the
+less respected her for the effort, the high-souled endeavour. A woman
+who could read Euripides, who knew all that was best in modern
+literature, was a woman for a husband to be proud of.
+
+In this desperate and for the most part unsuspected condition of mind,
+Lord Mallow hung upon Lady Mabel's footsteps during the days
+immediately before the wedding. Roderick was superintending the
+alterations at Briarwood, which were being carried on upon rather an
+extravagant scale, to make the mansion worthy of the bride. Lord Mallow
+was always at hand, in the orchid-houses, carrying scissors and
+adjusting the hose, in the library, in the gardens, in the boudoir. He
+was drinking greedily of the sweet poison. This fool's paradise of a
+few days must end in darkness, desolation, despair--everything dreadful
+beginning with _d;_ but the paradise was so delicious an abode that
+although an angel with a flaming sword, in the shape of conscience, was
+always standing at the gate, Lord Mallow would not be thrust out. He
+remained; in defiance of conscience, and honour, and all those good
+sentiments that should have counselled his speedy departure.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+"It might have been."
+
+"They are the most curious pair of lovers I ever saw in my life," said
+one of the visitors at Ashbourne, a young lady who had been engaged to
+be married more than once, and might fairly consider herself an
+authority upon such matters. "One never sees them together."
+
+"They are cousins," replied her companion. "What can you expect from a
+courtship between cousins? It must be the most humdrum affair possible."
+
+"All courtships are humdrum, unless there is opposition from parents,
+or something out of the common order to enliven them," said somebody
+else.
+
+The speakers were a party of young ladies, who were getting through an
+idle hour after breakfast in the billiard-room.
+
+"Lady Mabel is just the sort of girl no man could be desperately in
+love with," said another. "She is very pretty, and elegant, and
+accomplished, and all that sort of thing--but she is so overpoweringly
+well satisfied with herself that it seems superfluous for anyone to
+admire her.'
+
+"In spite of that I know of someone in this house who does immensely
+admire her," asserted the young lady who had spoken first. "Much more
+than I should approve if I were Mr. Vawdrey."
+
+"I think I know----" began somebody, and then abruptly remarked: "What
+a too ridiculous stroke! And I really thought I was going to make a
+cannon."
+
+This sudden change in the current of the talk was due to the appearance
+of the subject of this friendly disquisition. Lady Mabel had that
+moment entered, followed by Lord Mallow, not intent on billiards, like
+the frivolous damsels assembled round the table. There were book-cases
+all along one side of the billiard-room, containing the surplus books
+that had overrun the shelves in the library; and Mabel had come to look
+for a particular volume among these. It was a treatise upon the
+antiquities of Ireland. Lord Mallow and Lady Mabel had been disputing
+about the Round Towers.
+
+"Of course you are right," said the Irishman, when she had triumphantly
+exhibited a page which supported her side of the argument. "What a
+wonderful memory you have! What a wife you would make for a statesman!
+You would be worth half-a-dozen secretaries!"
+
+Mabel blushed, and smiled faintly, with lowered eyelids.
+
+"Do you remember that concluding picture in 'My Novel,'" she asked,
+"where Violante tempts Harley Lestrange from his idle musing over
+Horace, to toil through blue-books; and, when she is stealing softly
+from the room, he detains her and bids her copy an extract for him? 'Do
+you think I would go through this labour,' he says, 'if you were not to
+halve this success? Halve the labour as well.' I have always envied
+Violante that moment in her life."
+
+"And who would not envy Harley such a wife as Violante," returned Lord
+Mallow, "if she was like--the woman I picture her?"
+
+Three hours later Lord Mallow and Lady Mabel met by accident in the
+garden. It was an afternoon of breathless heat and golden sunlight, the
+blue ether without a cloud--a day on which the most restless spirit
+might be content to yield to the drowsiness of the atmosphere, and lie
+at ease upon the sunburnt grass and bask in the glory of summer. Lord
+Mallow had never felt so idle, in the whole course of his vigorous
+young life.
+
+"I don't know what has come to me," he said to himself; "I can't settle
+to any kind of work; and I don't care a straw for sight-seeing with a
+pack of nonentities."
+
+A party had gone off in a drag, soon after breakfast, to see some
+distant ruins; and Lord Mallow had refused to be of that party, though
+it included some of the prettiest girls at Ashbourne. He had stayed at
+home, on pretence of writing important letters, but had not, so far,
+penned a line. "It must be the weather," said Lord Mallow.
+
+An hour or so after luncheon he strolled out into the gardens, having
+given up all idea of writing those letters, There was a wide lawn, that
+sloped from the terrace in front of the drawing-room windows, a lawn
+encircled by a belt of carefully-chosen timber. It was not very old
+timber, but it was sufficiently umbrageous. There were tulip-trees, and
+copper-beeches, and Douglas pines, and deodoras. There were shrubs of
+every kind, and winding paths under the trees, and rustic benches here
+and there to repose the wearied traveller.
+
+On one of these benches, placed in a delicious spot, shaded by a group
+of pines, commanding the wide view of valley and distant hill far away
+towards Ringwood, Lord Mallow found Lady Mabel seated reading. She was
+looking delightfully cool amidst the sultry heat of the scene,
+perfectly dressed in soft white muslin, with much adornment of delicate
+lace and pale-hued ribbon: but she was not looking happy. She was
+gazing at the open volume on her knee, with fixed and dreamy eyes that
+saw not the page; and as Lord Mallow came very near, with steps that
+made no sound on the fallen pine-needles, he saw that there were tears
+upon her drooping eyelids.
+
+There are moments in every man's life when impulse is stronger than
+discretion. Lord Mallow gave the reins to impulse now, and seated
+himself by Lady Mabel's side, and took her hand in his, with an air of
+sympathy so real that the lady forgot to be offended.
+
+"Forgive me for having surprised your tears," he murmured gently.
+
+"I am very foolish," she said, blushing deeply as she became aware of
+the hand clasping hers, and suddenly withdrawing her own; "but there
+are passages of Dante that are too pathetic."
+
+"Oh, it was Dante!" exclaimed Lord Mallow, with a disappointed air.
+
+He looked down at the page on her lap.
+
+"Yes, naturally."
+
+She had been reading about Paolo and Francesca--that one episode, in
+all the catalogue of sin and sorrow, which melts every heart; a page at
+which the volume seems to open of its own accord.
+
+Lord Mallow leaned down and read the lines in a low voice, slowly, with
+considerable feeling; and then he looked softly up at Mabel Ashbourne,
+and at the landscape lying below them, in all the glow and glory of the
+summer light, and looked back to the lady, with his hand still on the
+book.
+
+The strangeness of the situation: they two alone in the garden, unseen,
+unheard by human eye or ear; the open book between them--a subtle bond
+of union--hinting at forbidden passion.
+
+"They were deeply to be pitied," said Lord Mallow, meaning the guilty
+lovers.
+
+"It was very sad," murmured Lady Mabel.
+
+"But they were neither the first nor the last who have found out too
+late that they were created to be happy in each other's love, and had
+by an accident missed that supreme chance of happiness," said Lord
+Mallow, with veiled intention.
+
+Mabel sighed, and took the book from the gentleman's hand, and drew a
+little farther off on the bench. She was not the kind of young woman to
+yield tremblingly to the first whisper of an unauthorised love. It was
+all very well to admire Francesca, upon strictly aesthetic grounds, as
+the perfection of erring womanhood, beautiful even in her guilt.
+Francesca had lived so long ago--in days so entirely mediaeval, that
+one could afford to regard her with indulgent pity. But it was not to
+be supposed that a modern duke's daughter was going to follow that
+unfortunate young woman's example, and break plighted vows. Betrothal,
+in the eyes of so exalted a moralist as Lady Mabel, was a tie but one
+degree less sacred than marriage.
+
+"Why did you not go to see the ruins?" she asked, resuming her society
+tone.
+
+"Because I was in a humour in which ruins would have been unutterably
+odious. Indeed, Lady Mabel, I am just now very much of Macbeth's
+temper, when he began to be a-weary of the sun."
+
+"Has the result of the session disappointed you?"
+
+"Naturally. When was that ever otherwise? Parliament opens full of
+promise, like a young king who has just ascended the throne, and
+everybody is to be made happy; all burdens are to be lightened, the
+seeds of all good things that have been hidden deep in earth through
+the slow centuries are to germinate all at once, and blossom, and bear
+fruit. And the session comes to an end; and, lo! a great many good
+things have been talked about, and no good thing has been done. That is
+in the nature of things. No, Lady Mabel, it is not that which makes me
+unhappy."
+
+He waited for her to ask him what his trouble was, but she kept silence.
+
+"No," he repeated, "it is not that."
+
+Again there was no reply; and he went on awkwardly, like an actor who
+has missed his cue.
+
+"Since I have known you I have been at once too happy and too wretched.
+Happy--unspeakably happy in your society; miserable in the knowledge
+that I could never be more to you than an unit in the crowd."
+
+"You were a great deal more to me than that," said Mabel softly. She
+bad been on her guard against him just now, but when he thus abased
+himself before her she took pity upon him, and became dangerously
+amiable. "I shall never forget your kindness about those wretched
+verses."
+
+"I will not hear you speak ill of them," cried Lord Mallow indignantly.
+"You have but shared the common fate of genius, in having a mind in
+advance of your age."
+
+Lady Mabel breathed a gentle sigh of resignation.
+
+"I am not so weak as to think myself a genius," she murmured; "but I
+venture to hope my poor verses will be better understood twenty years
+hence than they are now."
+
+"Undoubtedly!" cried Lord Mallow, with conviction. "Look at Wordsworth;
+in his lifetime the general reading public considered him a prosy old
+gentleman, who twaddled pleasantly about lakes and mountains, and
+pretty little peasant girls. The world only awakened ten years ago to
+the fact of his being a great poet and a sublime philosopher; and I
+shouldn't be very much surprised," added Lord Mallow meditatively, "if
+in ten years more the world were to go to sleep again and forget him."
+
+Lady Mabel looked at her watch.
+
+"I think I will go in and give mamma her afternoon cup of tea," she
+said.
+
+"Don't go yet," pleaded Lord Mallow, "it is only four, and I know the
+Duchess does not take tea till five. Give me one of your last hours. A
+lady who is just going to be married is something like Socrates after
+his sentence. Her friends surround her; she is in their midst, smiling,
+serene, diffusing sweetness and light; but they know she is going from
+them--they are to lose her, yes, to lose her almost as utterly as if
+she were doomed to die."
+
+"That is taking a very dismal view of marriage," said Mabel, pale, and
+trifling nervously with her watch-chain.
+
+This was the first time Lord Mallow had spoken to her of the
+approaching event.
+
+"Is it not like death? Does it not bring change and parting to old
+friends? When you are Lady Mabel Vawdrey, can I ever be with you as I
+am now? You will have new interests, you will be shut in by a network
+of new ties. I shall come some morning to see you amidst your new
+surroundings, and shall find a stranger. My Lady Mabel will be dead and
+buried."
+
+There is no knowing how long Lord Mallow might have meandered on in
+this dismal strain, if he had not been seasonably interrupted by the
+arrival of Mr. Vawdrey, who came sauntering along the winding
+shrubbery-walk, with his favourite pointer Hecate at his heels. He
+advanced towards his betrothed at the leisurely pace of a man whose
+courtship is over, whose fate is sealed, and from whom society exacts
+nothing further, except a decent compliance with the arrangements other
+people make for him.
+
+He seemed in no wise disconcerted at finding his sweetheart and Lord
+Mallow seated side by side, alone, in that romantic and solitary spot.
+He pressed Mabel's hand kindly, and gave the Irishman a friendly nod.
+
+"What have you been doing with yourself all the morning, Roderick?"
+asked Lady Mabel, with that half-reproachful air which is almost the
+normal expression of a betrothed young lady in her converse with her
+lover.
+
+"Oh, pottering about at Briarwood. The workmen are such fools. I am
+making some slight alterations in the stables, on a plan of my
+own--putting in mangers, and racks, and pillars, and partitions, from
+the St. Pancras Ironworks, making sanitary improvements and so on--and
+I have to contend with so much idiocy in our local workmen. If I did
+not stand by and see drain-pipes put in and connections made, I believe
+the whole thing would go wrong."
+
+"It must be very dreadful for you," exclaimed Lady Mabel.
+
+"It must be intolerable!" cried Lord Mallow; "what, when the moments
+are golden, when 'Love takes up the glass of Time, and turns it in his
+glowing hands,' when 'Love takes up the harp of life, and smites on all
+the chords with might,' you have to devote your morning to watching the
+laying of drain-pipes and digging of sewers! I cannot imagine a more
+afflicted man."
+
+Lady Mabel saw the sneer, but her betrothed calmly ignored it.
+
+"Of course it's a nuisance," he said carelessly; "but I had rather be
+my own clerk of the works than have the whole thing botched. I thought
+you were going to Wellbrook Abbey with the house party, Mabel?"
+
+"I know every stone of the Abbey by heart. No, I have been dawdling
+about the grounds all the afternoon. It is much too warm for riding or
+driving."
+
+Lady Mabel strangled an incipient yawn. She had not yawned once in all
+her talk with Lord Mallow. Rorie stifled another, and Lord Mallow
+walked up and down among the pine-needles, like a caged lion. It would
+have been polite to leave the lovers to themselves, perhaps. They might
+have family matters to discuss, settlements, wedding presents, Heaven
+knows what. But Lord Mallow was not going to leave them alone. He was
+in a savage humour, in which the petty rules and regulations of a
+traditionary etiquette were as nothing to him. So he stayed, pacing
+restlessly, with his hands in his pockets, and inwardly delighted at
+the stupid spectacle presented by the affianced lovers, who had nothing
+to say to each other, and were evidently bored to the last degree by
+their own society.
+
+"This is the deplorable result of trying to ferment the small beer of
+cousinly affection into the Maronean wine of passionate love," thought
+Lord Mallow. "Idiotic parents have imagined that these two people ought
+to marry, because they were brought up together, and the little girl
+took kindly to the little boy. What little girl does not take kindly to
+anything in the shape of a boy, when they are both in the nursery?
+Hence these tears."
+
+"I am going to pour out mamma's tea," Lady Mabel said presently, keenly
+sensible of the stupidity of her position. "Will you come, Roderick?
+Mamma will be glad to know that you are alive. She was wondering about
+you all the time we were at luncheon."
+
+"I ought not to have been off duty so long," Mr. Vawdrey answered
+meekly; "but if you could only imagine the stupidity of those
+bricklayers! The day before yesterday I found half-a-dozen stalwart
+fellows sitting upon a wall, with their hands in their corduroy
+pockets, smoking short pipes, and, I believe, talking politics. They
+pretended to be at a standstill because their satellites--their _ames
+damnees_, the men who hold their hods and mix their mortar--had not
+turned up. 'Don't disturb yourselves, gentlemen,' I said. 'There's
+nothing like taking things easy. It's a time-job. I'll send you the
+morning papers and a can of beer.' And so I did, and since that day, do
+you know, the fellows have worked twice as hard. They don't mind being
+bullied; but they can't stand chaff."
+
+"What an interesting bit of character," said Lady Mabel, with a faintly
+perceptible sneer. "Worthy of Henri Constant."
+
+"May I come to the Duchess's kettledrum?' asked Lord Mallow humbly.
+
+"By all means," answered Mabel. "How fond you gentlemen pretend to be
+of afternoon tea, nowadays. But I don't believe it is the tea you
+really care for. It is the gossip you all like. Darwin has found out
+that the male sex is the vain sex: but I don't think he has gone so far
+as to discover another great truth. It is the superior sex for whom
+scandal has the keenest charm."
+
+"I have never heard the faintest hiss of the serpent slander at the
+Duchess's tea-table," said Lord Mallow.
+
+"No; we are dreadfully behind the age," assented Lady Mabel. "We
+continue to exist without thinking ill of our neighbours."
+
+They all three sauntered towards the house, choosing the sheltered
+ways, and skirting the broad sunny lawn, whose velvet sward, green even
+in this tropical July, was the result of the latest improvements in
+cultivation, ranging from such simple stimulants as bone-dust and
+wood-ashes to the last development of agricultural chemistry. Lady
+Mabel and her companions were for the most part silent during this
+leisurely walk home, and, when one of them hazarded an observation, the
+attempt at conversation had a forced air, and failed to call forth any
+responsive brilliancy in the others.
+
+The Duchess looked provokingly cool and comfortable in her
+morning-room, which was an airy apartment on the first-floor, with a
+wide window opening upon a rustic balcony, verandahed and trellised,
+garlanded with passion-flowers and Australian clematis, and altogether
+sheltered from sun and wind. The most reposeful sofas, the roomiest
+arm-chairs in all the house were to be found here, covered with a cool
+shining chintz of the good old-fashioned sort, apple-blossoms and
+spring-flowers on a white ground.
+
+A second window in a corner opened into a small fernery, in which there
+was a miniature water-fall that trickled with a slumberous sound over
+moss-grown rockwork. There could hardly have been a better room for
+afternoon tea on a sultry summer day; and afternoon tea at Ashbourne
+included iced coffee, and the finest peaches and nectarines that were
+grown in the county; and when the Duke happened to drop in for a chat
+with his wife and daughter, sometimes went as far as sherry and
+Angustura bitters.
+
+The Duchess received her daughter with her usual delighted air, as if
+the ethereal-looking young lady in India muslin had verily been a
+goddess.
+
+"I hope you have not been fatiguing yourself in the orchid-houses on
+such an afternoon as this, my pet," she said anxiously.
+
+"No, indeed, mamma; it is much too warm for the orchid-houses. I have
+been in the shrubbery reading, or trying to read, but it is dreadful
+sleepy weather. We shall all be glad to get some tea. Oh, here it
+comes."
+
+A match pair of footmen brought a pair of silver trays: caddy, kettle,
+and teapot, and cups and saucers on one; and a lavish pile of fruit,
+such as Lance would have loved to paint, on the other.
+
+Lady Mabel took up the quaint little silver caddy and made the tea.
+Roderick began to eat peaches. Lord Mallow, true to his nationality,
+seated himself by the Duchess, and paid her a compliment.
+
+"There are some more parcels for you, Mabel," said the fond mother
+presently, glancing at a side-table, where sundry neatly-papered
+packets suggested jewellery.
+
+"More presents, I suppose," the young lady murmured languidly. "Now I
+do hope people have not sent me any more jewellery. I wear so little,
+and I--"
+
+Have so much, she was going to say, but checked herself on the verge of
+a remark that savoured of vulgar arrogance.
+
+She went on with the tea-making, uncurious as to the inside of those
+dainty-looking parcels. She had been surfeited with presents before she
+left her nursery. A bracelet or a locket more or less could not make
+the slightest difference in her feelings. She entertained a
+condescending pity for the foolish people who squandered their money in
+buying her such things, when they ought to know that she had a
+superfluity of much finer jewels than any they could give her.
+
+"Don't you want to see your presents?" asked Rorie, looking at her, in
+half-stupid wonder at such calm superiority.
+
+"They will keep till we have done tea. I can guess pretty well what
+they are like. How many church-services have people sent me, mamma?"
+
+"I think the last made fourteen," murmured the Duchess, trifling with
+her tea-spoon.
+
+"And how many 'Christian Years'?"
+
+"Nine."
+
+"And how many copies of Dore's 'Idylls of the King'?"
+
+"One came this morning from Mrs. Scobel. I think it was the fifth."
+
+"How many lockets inscribed with A. E. I. or 'Mizpah'?"
+
+"My darling, I could not possibly count those. There were three more by
+post this morning."
+
+"You see there is rather a sameness in these things," said Lady Mabel;
+"and you can understand why I am not rabidly curious about the contents
+of these parcels. I feel sure there will be another 'Mizpah' among
+them."
+
+She had received Lord Mallow's tribute, an Irish jaunting-car, built
+upon the newest lines, and altogether a most perfect vehicle for
+driving to a meet in, so light and perfectly balanced as to travel
+safely through the ruttiest glade in Mark Ash.
+
+Rorie's gifts had all been given, so Lady Mabel could afford to make
+light of the unopened parcels without fear of wounding the feelings of
+anyone present.
+
+They were opened by-and-by, when the Duke came in from his farm, sorely
+disturbed in his mind at the serious indisposition of a
+six-hundred-guinea cart-horse, which hapless prize animal had been
+fatted to such an inflammatory condition that in his case the commonest
+ailment might prove deadly. Depressed by this calamity, the Duke
+required to be propped up with sherry and Angustura bitters, which
+tonic mixture was presently brought to him by one of the match footmen,
+who looked very much as if he were suffering from the same plethoric
+state that was likely to prove fatal to the cart-horse. Happily, the
+footman's death would be but a temporary inconvenience. The Duke had
+not given six hundred guineas for him.
+
+Lady Mabel opened her parcels, in the hope of distracting her father
+from the contemplation of his trouble.
+
+"From whom can this be?" she asked wonderingly, "with the Jersey
+post-mark? Do I know anyone in Jersey?"
+
+Roderick grew suddenly crimson, and became deeply absorbed in the
+business of peeling a nectarine.
+
+"I surely cannot know anyone in Jersey," said Lady Mabel, in languid
+wonderment. "It is an altogether impossible place. Nobody in society
+goes there. It sounds almost as disreputable as Boulogne."
+
+"You'd better open the packet," said Rorie, with a quiver in his voice.
+
+"Perhaps it is from some of your friends," speculated Mabel.
+
+She broke the seal, and tore the cover off a small morocco case.
+
+"What a lovely pair of earrings!" she exclaimed.
+
+Each eardrop was a single turquoise, almost as large, and quite as
+clear in colour, as a hedge-sparrow's egg. The setting was Roman,
+exquisitely artistic.
+
+"Now I can forgive anyone for sending me such jewellery as that," said
+Lady Mabel. "It is not the sort of thing one sees in every jeweller's
+shop."
+
+Rorie looked at the blue stones with rueful eyes. He knew them well. He
+had seen them contrasted with ruddy chestnut hair, and the whitest skin
+in Christendom--or at any rate the whitest he had ever seen, and a
+man's world can be but the world he knows.
+
+"There is a letter," said Lady Mabel. "Now I shall find out all about
+my mysterious Jersey friend."
+
+She read the letter aloud.
+
+
+"Les Tourelles, Jersey, July 25th.
+
+"Dear Lady Mabel,--I cannot bear that your wedding-day should go by
+without bringing you some small token of regard from your husband's old
+friend. Will you wear these earrings now and then, and believe that
+they come from one who has nothing but good wishes for Rorie's
+wife?--Yours very truly,
+
+"VIOLET TEMPEST."
+
+
+"Why, they are actually from your old playfellow!" cried Mabel, with a
+laugh that had not quite a genuine ring in its mirth. "The young lady
+who used to follow the staghounds, in a green habit with brass buttons,
+ever so many years ago, and who insisted on calling you Rorie. She does
+it still, you see. How very sweet of her to send me a wedding-present.
+I ought to have remembered. I heard something about her being sent off
+to Jersey by her people, because she had grown rather incorrigible at
+home."
+
+"She was not incorrigible, and she was not sent off to Jersey," said
+Roderick grimly. "She left home of her own free will; because she could
+not hit it with her stepfather."
+
+"That is another way of expressing it, but I think we both mean pretty
+much the same thing," retorted Mabel. "But I don't want to know why she
+went to Jersey. She has behaved very sweetly in sending me such a
+pretty letter; and when she is at home again I shall be very happy to
+see her at my garden-parties."
+
+Lord Mallow had no share in this conversation, for the Duke had
+buttonholed him, and was giving him a detailed account of the
+cart-horse's symptoms.
+
+The little party dispersed soon after this, and did not foregather
+again until just before dinner, when the people who had been to see the
+ruins were all assembled, full of their day's enjoyment, and of sundry
+conversational encounters which they had had with the natives of the
+district. They gave themselves the usual airs which people who have
+been laboriously amusing themselves inflict upon those wiser
+individuals who prefer the passive pleasure of repose, and made a merit
+of having exposed themselves to the meridian sun, in the pursuit of
+archaeological knowledge.
+
+Lady Mabel looked pale and weary all that evening. Roderick was so
+evidently distrait that the good-natured Duke thought that he must be
+worrying himself about the cart-horse, and begged him to make his mind
+easy, as it was possible the animal might even yet recover.
+
+Later on in the evening Lady Mabel and Lord Mallow sat in the
+conservatory and talked Irish politics, while Rorie and the younger
+members of the house party played Nap. The conservatory was deliciously
+cool on this summer evening, dimly lighted by lamps that were half
+hidden among the palms and orange-trees. Lady Mabel and her companion
+could see the stars shining through the open doorway, and the mystical
+darkness of remote woods. Their voices were hushed; there were pauses
+of silence in their talk. Never had the stirring question of Home Rule
+been more interesting.
+
+Lady Mabel did not go back to the drawing-room that evening. There was
+a door leading from the conservatory to the hall; and, while Rorie and
+the young people were still somewhat noisily engaged in the game of
+Napoleon, Lady Mabel went out to the hall with Lord Mallow in
+attendance upon her. When he had taken her candle from the table and
+lighted it, he paused for a moment or so before he handed it to her,
+looking at her very earnestly all the while, as she stood at the foot
+of the staircase, with saddened face and downcast eyes, gravely
+contemplative of the stair-carpet.
+
+"Is it--positively--too late?" he asked.
+
+"You must feel and know that it is so," she answered.
+
+"But it might have been?"
+
+"Yes," she murmured with a faint sigh, "it might have been."
+
+He gave her the candlestick, and she went slowly upstairs, without a
+word of good-night. He stood in the hall, watching the slim figure as
+it ascended, aerial and elegant in its palely-tinted drapery.
+
+"It might have been," he repeated to himself: and then he lighted his
+candle and went slowly up the staircase. He was in no humour for
+billiards, cigars, or noisy masculine talk to-night. Still less was he
+inclined to be at ease and to make merry with Roderick Vawdrey.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+Wedding Bells.
+
+Vixen had been more than a year in the island of Jersey. She had lived
+her lonely and monotonous existence, and made no moan. It was a dreary
+exile; but it seemed to her that there was little else for her to do in
+life but dawdle through the long slow days, and bear the burden of
+living; at least until she came of age, and was independent, and could
+go where she pleased. Then there would be the wide world for her to
+wander over, instead of this sea-girdled garden of Jersey. She had
+reasons of her own for so quietly submitting to this joyless life. Mrs.
+Winstanley kept her informed of all that was doing in Hampshire, and
+even at the Queen Anne house at Kensington. She knew that Roderick
+Vawdrey's wedding-day was fixed for the first of August. Was it not
+better that she should be far away, hidden from her small world; while
+those marriage bells were ringing across the darkening beech-woods?
+
+Her sacrifice had not been in vain. Her lover had speedily forgotten
+that brief madness of last midsummer, and had returned to his
+allegiance. There had been no cloud upon the loves of the plighted
+cousins--no passing gust of dissension. If there had been, Mrs.
+Winstanley would have known all about it. Her letters told only of
+harmonious feeling and perpetual sunshine.
+
+
+"Lady Mabel is looking prettier than ever," she wrote, in the last week
+of July, "that ethereal loveliness which I so much admire. Her waist
+cannot be more than eighteen inches. I cannot find out who makes her
+dresses, but they are exquisitely becoming to her; though, for my own
+part, I do not think the style equal to Theodore's. But then I always
+supplemented Theodore's ideas with my own suggestions.
+
+"I hear that the _trousseau_ is something wonderful. The _lingerie_ is
+in quite a new style; a special make of linen has been introduced at
+Bruges on purpose for the occasion, and I have heard that the loom is
+to be broken and no more made. But this is perhaps exaggeration. The
+lace has all been made in Buckinghamshire, from patterns a hundred
+years old--very quaint and pretty. There is an elegant simplicity about
+everything, Mrs. Scobel tells me, which is very charming. The costumes
+for the Norwegian tour are heather-coloured water-proof cloth, with
+stitched borders, plain to the last degree, but with a _chic_ that
+redeems their plainness.
+
+"Conrad and I received an early invitation to the wedding. He will go;
+but I have refused, on the ground of ill-health. And, indeed, my dear
+Violet, this is no idle excuse. My health has been declining ever since
+you left us. I was always a fragile creature, as you know, even in your
+dear papa's time; but of late the least exertion has made me tremble
+like a leaf. I bear up, for Conrad's sake. He is so anxious and unhappy
+when he sees me suffer, and I am glad to spare him anxiety.
+
+"Your old friend, Mr. Vawdrey, looks well and happy, but I do not see
+much of him. Believe me, dear, you acted well and wisely in leaving
+home when you did. It would have been a dreadful thing if Lady Mabel's
+engagement had been broken off on account of an idle flirtation between
+you and Rorie. It would have left a stain upon your name for life.
+Girls do not think of these things. I'm afraid I flirted a little
+myself when I was first out, and admiration was new to me; but I
+married so young that I escaped some of the dangers you have had to
+pass through.
+
+"Roderick is making considerable improvements and alterations at
+Briarwood. He is trying to make the house pretty--I fear an impossible
+task. There is a commonplace tone about the building that defies
+improvement. The orchid-houses at Ashbourne are to be taken down and
+removed to Briarwood. The collection has been increasing ever since
+Lady Jane Vawdrey's death, and is now one of the finest in England. But
+to my mind the taste is a most foolish one. Dear Conrad thinks me
+extravagant for giving sixty guineas for a dress--what might he not
+think if I gave as much for a single plant? Lord Mallow is staying at
+Ashbourne for the wedding. His success in the House of Commons has made
+him quite a lion. He called and took tea with me the other day. He is
+very nice. Ah, my dearest Violet, what a pity you could not like him.
+It would have been such a splendid match for you, and would have made
+Conrad and me so proud and happy."
+
+
+Vixen folded the letter with a sigh. She was sitting in her favourite
+spot in the neglected garden, the figs ripening above her among their
+broad ragged leaves, and the green slopes and valleys lying beneath
+her--orchards and meadows and pink homesteads, under a sultry summer
+haze.
+
+The daughter was not particularly alarmed by her mother's complaint of
+declining health. It was that old cry of "wolf," which Violet had heard
+ever since she could remember.
+
+"Poor mamma!" she said to herself, with a half-pitying tenderness, "it
+has always been her particular vanity to fancy herself an invalid; and
+yet no doctor has ever been able to find out anything amiss. She ought
+to be very happy now, poor dear; she has the husband of her choice, and
+no rebellious daughter to make the atmosphere stormy. I must write to
+Mrs. Scobel, and ask if mamma is really not quite so well as when I
+left home."
+
+And then Vixen's thoughts wandered away to Rorie, and the alterations
+that were being made at Briarwood. He was preparing a bright home for
+his young wife, and they would be very happy together, and it would be
+as if Violet had never crossed his path.
+
+"But he was fond of me, last midsummer twelvemonth," thought Vixen,
+half seated half reclining against a grassy bank, with her hands
+clasped above her head, and her open book flung aside upon the long
+grass, where the daisies and dandelions grew in such wild abundance.
+"Yes, he loved me dearly then, and would have sacrificed interest,
+honour, all the world for my sake. Can he forget those days, when they
+are thus ever present to my mind? He seemed more in love than I: yet, a
+little year, and he is going to be married. Have men no memories? I do
+not believe that he loves Lady Mabel any better than he did a year ago,
+when he asked me to be his wife. But he has learnt wisdom; and he is
+going to keep his word, and to be owner of Briarwood and Ashbourne, and
+a great man in the county. I suppose it is a glorious destiny."
+
+In these last days of July a strange restlessness had taken possession
+of Violet Tempest. She could not read or occupy herself in any way.
+Those long rambles about the island, to wild precipices looking down on
+peaceful bays, to furzy hills where a few scattered sheep were her sole
+companions, to heathery steeps that were craggy and precipitous and
+dangerous to climb, and so had a certain fascination for the lonely
+wanderer--these rambles, which had been her chief resource and solace
+until now, had suddenly lost their charm. She dawdled in the garden, or
+roamed restlessly from the garden to the orchard, from the orchard to
+the sloping meadow, where Miss Skipwith's solitary cow, last
+representative of a once well-stocked farm, browsed in a dignified
+seclusion. The days were slow, and oh, how lengthy! and yet there was a
+fever in Vixen's blood which made it seem to her as if time were
+hurrying on at a breathless break-neck pace.
+
+"The day after to-morrow he will be married," she said to herself, on
+the morning of the thirtieth. "By this time on the day after to-morrow,
+the bride will be putting on her wreath of orange blossoms, and the
+church will be decorated with flowers, and there will be a flutter of
+expectation in all the little villages, from one end of the Forest to
+the other. A duke's daughter is not married every day in the year. Ah
+me! there will not be an earthquake, or anything to prevent the
+wedding, I daresay. No, I feel sure that all things are going smoothly.
+If there had been a hitch of any kind, mamma would have written to tell
+me about it."
+
+Miss Skipwith was not a bad person to live with in a time of secret
+trouble such as this. She was so completely wrapped up in her grand
+scheme of reconciliation for all the creeds, that she was utterly blind
+to any small individual tragedy that might be enacted under her nose.
+Those worn cheeks and haggard eyes of Vixen's attracted no attention
+from her as they sat opposite to each other at the sparely-furnished
+breakfast-table, in the searching summer light.
+
+She had allowed Violet perfect liberty, and had been too apathetic to
+be unkind. Having tried her hardest to interest the girl in Swedenborg,
+or Luther, or Calvin, or Mahomet, or Brahma, or Confucius, and having
+failed ignominiously in each attempt, she had dismissed all idea of
+companionship with Violet from her mind, and had given her over to her
+own devices.
+
+"Poor child," she said to herself, "she is not unamiable, but she is
+utterly mindless. What advantages she might have derived from
+intercourse with me, if she had possessed a receptive nature! But my
+highest gifts are thrown away upon her. She will go through life in
+lamentable ignorance of all that is of deepest import in man's past and
+future. She has no more intellect than Baba."
+
+Baba was the Persian cat, the silent companion of Miss Skipwith's
+studious hours.
+
+So Violet roamed in and out of the house, in this languid weather, and
+took up a book only to throw it down again, and went out to the
+court-yard to pat Argus, and strolled into the orchard and leaned
+listlessly against an ancient apple-tree, with her loose hair
+glistening in the sunshine--just as if she were posing herself for a
+pre-Raphaelite picture--and no one took any heed of her goings and
+comings.
+
+She was supremely lonely. Even looking forward to the future--when she
+would be of age and well off, and free to do what she liked with her
+life--she could see no star of hope. Nobody wanted her. She stood quite
+alone amidst a strange, unfriendly world.
+
+"Except poor old McCroke, I don't think there is a creature who cares
+for me; and even her love is tepid," she said to herself.
+
+She had kept up a regular correspondence with her old governess, since
+she had been in Jersey, and had developed to Miss McCroke the scheme of
+her future travels. They were to see everything strange and rare and
+beautiful, that was to be seen in the world.
+
+
+"I wonder if you would much mind going to Africa?" she wrote, in one of
+her frank girlish letters. "There must be something new in Africa. One
+would get away from the beaten ways of Cockney tourists, and one would
+escape the dreary monotony of a _table d'hote_. There is Egypt for us
+to do; and you, who are a walking encyclopaedia, will be able to tell
+me all about the Pyramids, and Pompey's Pillar, and the Nile. If we got
+tired of Africa we might go to India. We shall be thoroughly
+independent. I know you are a good sailor; you are not like poor mamma,
+who used to suffer tortures in crossing the Channel."
+
+
+There was a relief in writing such letters as these, foolish though
+they might be. That idea of distant wanderings with Miss McCroke was
+the one faint ray of hope offered by the future--not a star, assuredly,
+but at least a farthing candle. The governess answered in her friendly
+matter-of-fact way. She would like much to travel with her dearest
+Violet. The life would be like heaven after her present drudgery in
+finishing the Misses Pontifex, who were stupid and supercilious. But
+Miss McCroke was doubtful about Africa. Such a journey would be a
+fearful undertaking for two unprotected females. To have a peep at
+Algiers and Tunis, and even to see Cairo and Alexandria, might be
+practicable; but anything beyond that Miss McCroke thought wild and
+adventurous. Had her dear Violet considered the climate, and the
+possibility of being taken prisoners by black people, or even devoured
+by lions? Miss McCroke begged her dear pupil to read Livingstone's
+travels and the latest reports of the Royal Geographical Society,
+before she gave any further thought to Africa.
+
+The slowest hours, days the most wearisome, long nights that know not
+sleep, must end at last. The first of August dawned, a long streak of
+red light in the clear gray east. Vixen saw the first glimmer as she
+lay wide awake in her big old bed, staring through the curtainless
+windows to the far sea-line, above which the morning sky grew red.
+
+"Hail, Rorie's wedding-day!" she cried, with a little hysterical laugh;
+and then she buried her face in the pillow and sobbed aloud--sobbed as
+she had not done till now, through all her weary exile.
+
+There had been no earthquake; this planet we live on had not rolled
+backwards in space; all things in life pursued their accustomed course,
+and time had ripened into Roderick Vawdrey's wedding-day.
+
+"I did think _something_ would happen," said Vixen piteously. "It was
+foolish, weak, mad to think so. But I could not believe he would marry
+anyone but me. I did my duty, and I tried to be brave and steadfast.
+But I thought something would happen."
+
+A weak lament from the weak soul of an undisciplined girl. The red
+light grew and glowed redder in the east, and then the yellow sun shone
+through gray drifting clouds, and the new day was born. Slumber and
+Violet had parted company for the last week. Her mind had been too full
+of images; the curtain of sleep would not hide them. Frame and mind
+were both alike worn out, as she lay in the broadening light, lonely,
+forsaken, unpitied, bearing her great sorrow, just as she must have
+borne the toothache, or any other corporal pain.
+
+She rose at seven, feeling unspeakably tired, dressed herself slowly
+and dawdlingly, thinking of Lady Mabel. What an event her rising and
+dressing would be this morning--the flurried maids, the indulgent
+mother; the pure white garments, glistening in the tempered sunlight;
+the luxurious room, with its subdued colouring, its perfume of
+freshly-cut flowers; the dainty breakfast-tray, on a table by an open
+window; the shower of congratulatory letters, and the last delivery of
+wedding gifts. Vixen could imagine the scene, with its every detail.
+
+And Roderick, what of him? She could not so easily picture the
+companion of her childhood on this fateful morning of his life. She
+could not imagine him happy: she dared not fancy him miserable. It was
+safer to make a great effort and shut that familiar figure out of her
+mind altogether.
+
+Oh, what a dismal ceremony the eight--o'clock breakfast, _tete-a-tete_
+with Miss Skipwith, seemed on this particular morning! Even that
+preoccupied lady was constrained to notice Violet's exceeding pallor.
+
+"My dear, you are ill!" she exclaimed. "Your face is as white as a
+sheet of paper, and your eyes have dark rings around them."
+
+"I am not ill, but I have been sleeping badly of late."
+
+"My dear child, you need occupation; you want an aim. The purposeless
+life you are leading must result badly. Why can you not devise some
+pursuit to fill your idle hours? Far be it from me to interfere with
+your liberty; but I confess that it grieves me to see youth, and no
+doubt some measure of ability, so wasted. Why do you not strive to
+continue your education? Self-culture is the highest form of
+improvement. My books are at your disposal."
+
+"Dear Miss Skipwith, your books are all theological," said Vixen
+wearily, "and I don't care for theology. As for my education, I am not
+utterly neglecting it. I read Schiller till my eyes ache."
+
+"One shallow German poet is not the beginning and end of education,"
+replied Miss Skipwith. "I should like you to take larger views of
+woman's work in the world."
+
+"My work in the world is to live quietly, and not to trouble anyone,"
+said Vixen, with a sigh.
+
+She was glad to leave Miss Skipwith to her books, and to wander out
+into the sunny garden, where the figs were ripening or dropping
+half-ripened amongst the neglected grass, and the clustering bloom of
+the hydrangeas was as blue as the summer sky. There had been an
+unbroken interval of sultry weather--no rain, no wind, no clouds--only
+endless sunshine.
+
+"If it would hail, or blow, or thunder," sighed Vixen, with her hands
+clasped above her head, "the change might be some small relief to my
+feelings; but this everlasting brightness is too dreadful. What a lying
+world it is, and how Nature smiles at us when our hearts are aching.
+Well, I suppose I ought to wish the sunshine to last till after Rorie's
+wedding; but I don't, I don't, I don't! If the heavens were to darken,
+and forked lightnings to cleave the black vault, I should dance for
+joy. I should hail the storm, and cry, 'This is sympathy!'"
+
+And then she flung herself face downwards on the grass and sobbed, as
+she had sobbed on her pillow that morning.
+
+"It rends my heart to know we are parted for ever," she said. "Oh why
+did I not say Yes that night in the fir plantation? The chance of
+lifelong bliss was in my hand, and I let it go. It would have been less
+wicked to give way then, and accept my happy fate, than to suffer these
+evil feelings that are gnawing at my heart to-day--vain rage, cruel
+hatred of the innocent!"
+
+The wedding bells must be ringing by this time. She fancied she could
+hear them. Yes, the summer air seemed alive with bells. North, south,
+east, west, all round the island, they were ringing madly, with tuneful
+marriage peal. They beat upon her brain. They would drive her mad. She
+tried to stop her ears, but then those wedding chimes seemed ringing
+inside her head. She could not shut them out. She remembered how the
+joybells had haunted her ears on Rorie's twenty-first birthday--that
+day which had ended so bitterly, in the announcement of the engagement
+between the cousins. Yes, that had been her first real trouble, How
+well she remembered her despair and desolation that night, the rage
+that possessed her young soul.
+
+"And I was little more than a child, then," she said to herself.
+"Surely I must have been born wicked. My dear father was living then;
+and even the thought of his love did not comfort me. I felt myself
+abandoned and alone in the world. How idiotically fond I must have been
+of Rorie. Ever so many years have come and gone, and I have not cured
+myself of this folly. What is there in him that I should care for him?"
+
+She got up from the grass, plucked herself out of that paroxysm of
+mental pain which came too near lunacy, and began to walk slowly round
+the garden-paths, reasoning with herself, calling womanly pride to the
+rescue.
+
+"I hate myself for this weakness," she protested dumbly. "I did not
+think I was capable of it. When I was a child, and was taken to the
+dentist, did I ever whine and howl like vulgar-minded children? No; I
+braced myself for the ordeal, and bore the pain, as my father's child
+ought."
+
+She walked quickly to the house, burst into the parlour, where Miss
+Skipwith was sitting at her desk, the table covered with open volumes,
+over which flowers of literature the student roved, beelike, collecting
+honey for her intellectual hive.
+
+"Please, Miss Skipwith, will you give me some books about Buddha?" said
+Vixen, with an alarming suddenness. "I am quite of your opinion: I
+ought to study. I think I shall go in for theology."
+
+"My dearest child!" cried the ancient damsel, enraptured. "Thank
+Heaven! the seed I have sown has germinated at last. If you are once
+inspired with the desire to enter that vast field of knowledge, the
+rest will follow. The flowers you will find by the wayside will lure
+you onward, even when the path is stony and difficult."
+
+"I suppose I had better begin with Buddha," said Vixen, with a hard and
+resolute manner that scarcely seemed like the burning desire for
+knowledge newly kindled in the breast of a youthful student. "That is
+beginning at the beginning, is it not?"
+
+"No, my dear. In comparison with the priesthood of Egypt, Buddha is
+contemptibly modern. If we want the beginning of things, we must revert
+to Egypt, that cradle of learning and civilisation."
+
+"Then let me begin with Egypt!" cried Vixen impatiently. "I don't care
+a bit how I begin. I want occupation for my mind."
+
+"Did I not say so?" exclaimed Miss Skipwith, full of ardent welcome for
+the neophyte whose steps had been so tardy in approaching the shrine.
+"That pallor, those haggard eyes are indications of a troubled mind;
+and no mind can be free from trouble when it lacks an object. We create
+our own sorrows."
+
+"Yes, we are wretched creatures!" cried Vixen passionately, "the
+poorest examples of machinery in all this varied universe. Look at that
+cow in your orchard, her dull placid life, inoffensive, useful, asking
+nothing but a fertile meadow and a sunny day to fill her cup of
+happiness. Why did the great Creator make the lower animals exempt from
+sorrow, and give us such an infinite capacity for grief and pain? It
+seems hardly fair."
+
+"My dear, our Creator gave us minds, and the power of working out our
+own salvation," replied Miss Skipwith. "Here are half-a-dozen volumes.
+In these you will find the history of Egyptian theology, from the
+golden age of the god Ra to the dark and troubled period of Persian
+invasion. Some of these works are purely philosophical. I should
+recommend you to read the historical volumes first. Make copious notes
+of what you read, and do not hesitate to refer to me when you are
+puzzled."
+
+"I am afraid that will be very often," said Vixen, piling up the books
+in her arms with a somewhat hopeless air. "I am not at all clever; but
+I want to employ my mind."
+
+She carried the books up to her bedroom, and arranged them on a stout
+old oak table, which Mrs. Doddery had found for her accommodation. She
+opened her desk, and put a quire of paper ready for any notes she might
+be tempted to make, and then she began, steadily and laboriously, with
+a dry-as-dust history of ancient Egypt.
+
+Oh, how her poor head ached as the summer noontide wore on, and the
+bees hummed in the garden below, and the distant waves danced gaily in
+the sunlight; and the knowledge that the bells were really ringing at
+Ashbourne could not be driven from her mind. How the Shepherd Kings,
+and the Pharaohs, and the comparatively modern days of Joseph and his
+brethren, and the ridiculously recent era of Moses, passed, like dim
+shifting shadows, before her mental vision. She retraced her steps in
+that dreary book, again and again, patiently, forcing her mind to the
+uncongenial task.
+
+"I will not be such a slave as to think of him all this long summer
+day," she said to herself. "I _will_ think of the god Ra, and lotus
+flowers, and the Red Nile, and the Green Nile, and all this wonderful
+land where I am going to take dear old McCroke by-and-by."
+
+She read on till dinner-time, only pausing to scribble rapid notes of
+the dates and names and facts which would not stand steadily in her
+whirling brain; and then she went down to the parlour, no longer pale,
+but with two hectic spots on her cheeks, and her eyes unnaturally
+bright.
+
+"Ah," ejaculated Miss Skipwith, delightedly. "You look better already.
+There is nothing like severe study for bracing the nerves."
+
+Violet talked about Egypt all dinner-time, but she ate hardly anything,
+and that hectic flush upon her cheeks grew more vivid as she talked.
+
+"To think that after the seed lying dormant all this time, it should
+have germinated at last with such sudden vigour," mused Miss Skipwith.
+"The poor girl is talking a good deal of nonsense; but that is only the
+exuberance of a newly awakened intellect."
+
+Vixen went back to the Egyptians directly after dinner. She toiled
+along the arid road with an indomitable patience. Her ideas of Egypt
+had hitherto been of the vaguest. Vast plains of barren sand, a pyramid
+or two, Memnon's head breathing wild music in the morning sunshine,
+crocodiles, copper-coloured natives, and Antony and Cleopatra. These
+things were about as much as Miss McCroke's painstaking tuition had
+implanted in her pupil's mind. And here, without a shadow of vocation,
+this poor ignorant girl was poring over the driest details that ever
+interested the scholar. The mysteries of the triple language, the
+Rosetta Stone, Champollion--_tout le long de la riviere_. Was it any
+wonder that her head ached almost to agony, and that the ringing of
+imaginary wedding bells sounded distractingly in her ears?
+
+She worked on till tea-time, and was too engrossed to hear the bell,
+which clanged lustily for every meal in the orderly household: a bell
+whose clamour was somewhat too much for the repast it heralded.
+
+This evening Vixen did not hear the bell, inviting her to weak tea and
+bread-and-butter. The ringing of those other bells obscured the sound.
+She was sitting with her book before her, but her eyes fixed on
+vacancy, when Miss Skipwith, newly interested in her charge, came to
+inquire the cause of her delay. The girl looked at her languidly, and
+seemed slow to understand what she said.
+
+"I don't care for any tea," she replied at last. "I would rather go on
+with the history. It is tremendously interesting, especially the
+hieroglyphics. I have been trying to make them out. It is so nice to
+know that a figure like a chopper means a god, and that a goose with a
+black ball above his hack means Pharaoh, son of the sun. And then the
+table of dynasties: can anything be more interesting than those? It
+makes one's head go round just a little at first, when one has to grope
+backwards through so many centuries, but that's nothing."
+
+"My dear, you are working too hard. It is foolish to begin with such
+impetuosity. A fire that burns so fiercely will soon exhaust itself.
+_Festina lente_. We must hasten slowly, if we want to make solid
+progress. Why, my poor child, your fore-head is burning. You will read
+yourself into a fever."
+
+"I think I am in a fever already," said Vixen.
+
+Miss Skipwith was unusually kind. She insisted upon helping her charge
+to undress, and would not leave her till she was lying quietly in bed.
+She was going to draw down the blinds, but against this Vixen protested
+vehemently.
+
+"Pray leave me the sky," she cried; "it is something to look at through
+the long blank night. The stars come and go, and the clouds are always
+changing. I believe I should go mad if it were not for the sky."
+
+Poor Miss Skipwith felt seriously uneasy. The first draught from the
+fountain of knowledge had evidently exercised an intoxicating effect
+upon Violet Tempest. It was as if she had been taking opium or hashish.
+The girl's brain was affected.
+
+"You have studied too long," she said. "This must not occur again. I
+feel myself responsible to your parents for your health."
+
+"To my parents," echoed Vixen, with a sudden sigh; "I have only one,
+and she is happier in my absence than when I was with her. You need not
+be uneasy about me if I fall ill. No one will care. If I were to die,
+no one would be sorry. I have no place in the world. No one would miss
+me."
+
+"My dear, it is absolutely wicked to talk in this strain; just as you
+are developing new powers, an intellect which may make you a pillar and
+a landmark in your age."
+
+"I don't want to be a pillar or a landmark," said Vixen impatiently. "I
+don't want to have my name associated with 'movements,' or to write
+letters to The Times. I should like to have been happy my own way."
+
+She turned her back upon Miss Skipwith, and lay so still that the
+excellent lady supposed she was dropping off to sleep.
+
+"A good night's rest will restore her, and she will awake with renewed
+appetite for knowledge," she murmured benevolently as she went back to
+her Swedenborgian studies.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+The nearest Way to Norway.
+
+No such blessing as a good night's rest was in store for Violet Tempest
+on that night of the first of August. She lay in a state of
+half-consciousness that was near akin to delirium. When she closed her
+eyes for a little while the demon of evil dreams took hold of her. She
+was in the old familiar home-scenes with her dear dead father. She
+acted over again that awful tragedy of sudden death. She was upbraiding
+her mother about Captain Winstanley. Bitter words were on her lips;
+words more bitter than even she had ever spoken in all her intensity of
+adverse feeling. She was in the woody hollow by Rufus's stone,
+blindfold, with arms stretched helplessly out, seeking for Rorie among
+the smooth beech-boles, with a dreadful sense of loneliness, and a fear
+that he was far away, and that she would perish, lost and alone, in
+that dismal wood.
+
+So the slow night wore on to morning. Sometimes she lay staring idly at
+the stars, shining so serenely in that calm summer sky. She wondered
+what life was like, yonder, in those remote worlds. Was humanity's
+portion as sad, fate as adverse, there as here? Then she thought of
+Egypt, and Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra--that story of a wild,
+undisciplined love, grand in its lawless passion--its awful doom. To
+have loved thus, and died thus, seemed a higher destiny than to do
+right, and patiently conquer sorrow, and live on somehow to the dismal
+end of the dull blameless chapter.
+
+At last, with what laggard steps, with what oppressive tardiness, came
+the dawn, in long streaks of lurid light above the edge of the distant
+waters.
+
+"'Red sky at morning is the shepherd's warning!'" cried Vixen, with dry
+lips. "Thank God there will be rain to-day! Welcome change after the
+hot arid skies, and the cruel brazen sun, mocking all the miseries of
+this troubled earth."
+
+She felt almost as wildly glad as the Ancient Mariner, at the idea of
+that blessed relief; and then, by-and-by, with the changeful light
+shining on her face, she fell into a deep sleep.
+
+Perhaps that morning sleep saved Vixen from an impending fever. It was
+the first refreshing slumber she had had for a week--a sweet dreamless
+sleep. The breakfast-bell rang unheeded. The rain, forecast by that red
+sky, fell in soft showers upon the verdant isle, and the grateful earth
+gave back its sweetest perfumes to the cool, moist air.
+
+Miss Skipwith came softly in to look at her charge, saw her sleeping
+peacefully, and as softly retired.
+
+"Poor child! the initiation has been too much for her unformed mind,"
+she murmured complacently, pleased with herself for having secured a
+disciple. "The path is narrow and rugged at the beginning, but it will
+broaden out before her as she goes on."
+
+Violet awoke, and found that it was mid-day. Oh, what a blessed relief
+that long morning sleep had been. She woke like a creature cured of
+mortal pain. She fell on her knees beside the bed, and prayed as she
+had not often prayed in her brief careless life.
+
+"What am I that I should question Thy justice!" she cried. "Lord, teach
+me to submit, teach me to bear my burden patiently, and to do some good
+in the world."
+
+Her mood and temper were wondrously softened after a long interval of
+thought and prayer. She was ashamed of her waywardness of
+yesterday--her foolish unreasonable passion.
+
+"Poor Rorie, I told him to keep his promise, and he has obeyed me," she
+said to herself. "Can I be angry with him for that? I ought to feel
+proud and glad that we were both strong enough to do our duty."
+
+She dressed slowly, languid after the excitement of yesterday, and then
+went slowly down the broad bare staircase to Miss Skipwith's parlour.
+
+The lady of the manor received her with affectionate greeting, and had
+a special pot of tea brewed for her, and insisted upon her eating some
+dry toast, a form of nourishment which this temperate lady deemed a
+panacea in illness.
+
+"I was positively alarmed about you last night, my dear," she said;
+"you were so feverish and excited. You read too much, for the first
+day."
+
+"I'm afraid I did," assented Vixen, with a faint smile; "and the worst
+of it is, I believe I have forgotten every word I read."
+
+"Surely not!" cried Miss Skipwith, horrified at this admission. "You
+seemed so impressed--so interested. You were so full of your subject."
+
+"I have a faint recollection of the little men in the hieroglyphics,"
+said Vixen; "but all the rest is gone. The images of Antony and
+Cleopatra, in Shakespeare's play, bring Egypt more vividly before me
+than all the history I read yesterday."
+
+Miss Skipwith looked shocked, just as if some improper character in
+real life had been brought before her.
+
+"Cleopatra was very disreputable, and she was not Egyptian," she
+remarked severely. "I am sorry you should waste your thoughts upon such
+a person."
+
+"I think she is the most interesting woman in ancient history," said
+Vixen wilfully, "as Mary Queen of Scots is in modern history. It is not
+the good people whose images take hold of one's fancy, What a faint
+idea one has of Lady Jane Grey, And, in Schiller's 'Don Carlos,' I
+confess the Marquis of Posa never interested me half so keenly as
+Philip of Spain."
+
+"My dear, you are made up of fancies and caprices. Your mind wants
+balance," said Miss Skipwith, affronted at this frivolity. "Had you not
+better go for a walk with your dog? Doddery tells me that poor Argus
+has not had a good run since last week."
+
+"How wicked of me!" cried Vixen. "Poor old fellow! I had almost
+forgotten his existence. Yes, I should like a long walk, if you will
+not think me idle."
+
+"You studied too many hours yesterday, my dear. It will do you good to
+relax the bow to-day. _Non semper arcum tendit Apollo!_"
+
+"I'll go for my favourite walk to Mount Orgueil. I don't think there'll
+be any more rain. Please excuse me if I am not home in time for dinner.
+I can have a little cold meat, or an egg, for my tea."
+
+"You had better take a sandwich with you," said Miss Skipwith, with
+unusual thoughtfulness. "You have been eating hardly anything lately."
+
+Vixen did not care about the sandwich, but submitted, to please her
+hostess, and a neat little paper parcel, containing about three ounces
+of nutriment, was made up for her by Mrs. Doddery. Never had the island
+looked fairer in its summer beauty than it did to-day, after the
+morning's rain. These showers had been to Jersey what sleep had been to
+Vixen. The air was soft and cool; sparkling rain-drops fell like
+diamonds from the leaves of ash and elm. The hedge-row ferns had taken
+a new green, as if the spirit of spring had revisited the island. The
+blue bright sea was dimpled with wavelets.
+
+What a bright glad world it was, and how great must be the sin of a
+rebellious spirit, cavilling at the dealings of its Creator! The happy
+dog bounced and bounded round his mistress, the birds twittered in the
+hedges, the passing farm-labourer with his cartload of seaweed smacked
+his whip cheerily as he urged his patient horse along the narrow lane.
+A huge van-load of Cockney tourists, singing a boisterous chorus of the
+last music-hall song, passed Vixen at a turn of the road, and made a
+blot on the serene beauty of the scene. They were going to eat lobsters
+and drink bottled beer and play skittles at Le Tac. Vixen rejoiced when
+their raucous voices died away on the summer breeze.
+
+"Why is Jersey the peculiar haunt of the vulgar?" she wondered. "It is
+such a lovely place that it deserves to be visited by something better
+than the refuse of Margate and Ramsgate."
+
+There was a meadow-path which lessened the distance between Les
+Tourelles and Mount Orgueil. Vixen had just left the road and entered
+the meadow when Argus set up a joyous bark, and ran back to salute a
+passing vehicle. It was a St. Helier's fly, driving at a tremendous
+pace in the direction from which she had come. A young man lay back in
+the carriage, smoking a cigar, with his hat slouched over his eyes.
+Vixen could just see the strong sunburnt hand flung up above his head.
+It was a foolish fancy, doubtless, but that broad brown hand reminded
+her of Rorie's. Argus leaped the stile, rushed after the vehicle, and
+saluted it clamorously. The poor brute had been mewed up for a week in
+a dull courtyard, and was rejoiced at having something to bark at.
+
+Vixen walked on to the seashore, and the smiling little harbour, and
+the brave old castle. There was the usual party of tourists following
+the guide through narrow passages and echoing chambers, and peering
+into the rooms where Charles Stuart endured his exile, and making those
+lively remarks and speculations whereby the average tourist is prone to
+reveal his hazy notions of history. Happily Vixen knew of quiet corners
+upon the upward walls whither tourists rarely penetrated; nooks in
+which she had sat through many an hour of sun and shade, reading,
+musing, or sketching with free untutored pencil, for the mere idle
+delight of the moment. Here in this loneliness, between land and sea,
+she had nursed her sorrow and made much of her grief. She liked the
+place. No obtrusive sympathy had ever made it odious to her. Here she
+was mistress of herself and her own thoughts. To-day she went to her
+favourite corner, a seat in an angle of the battlemented wall, and sat
+there with her arms folded on the stone parapet, looking dreamily
+seaward, across the blue channel to the still bluer coast of Normandy,
+where the tower of Coutance showed dimly in the distance.
+
+Resignation. Yes, that was to be her portion henceforward. She must
+live out her life, in isolation almost as complete as Miss Skipwith's,
+without the innocent delusions which gave substance and colour to that
+lonely lady's existence.
+
+"If I could only have a craze," she thought hopelessly, "some harmless
+monomania which would fill my mind! The maniacs in Bedlam, who fancy
+themselves popes or queens, are happy in their foolish way. If I could
+only imagine myself something which I am not--anything except poor
+useless Violet Tempest, who has no place in the world!"
+
+The sun was gaining power, the air was drowsy, the soft ripple of the
+tide upon the golden sand was like a lullaby. Even that long sleep of
+the morning had not cured Vixen's weariness. There were long arrears of
+slumber yet to be made up. Her eyelids drooped, then closed altogether,
+the ocean lullaby took a still softer sound, the distant voices of the
+tourists grew infinitely soothing, and Vixen sank quietly to sleep, her
+head leaning on her folded arms, the gentle west wind faintly stirring
+her loose hair.
+
+
+"'Oh, happy kiss that woke thy sleep!'" cried a familiar voice close in
+the slumberer's ear, and then a warm breath, which was not the summer
+wind, fanned the cheek that lay upmost upon her arm, two warm lips were
+pressed against that glowing cheek in ardent greeting. The girl started
+to her feet, every vein tingling with the thrilling recognition of her
+assailant. There was no one else--none other than he--in this wide
+world who would do such a thing! She sprang up, and faced him, her eyes
+flashing, her cheeks crimson.
+
+"How dare you?" she cried. "Then it was you I saw in the fly? Pray, is
+this the nearest way to Norway?"
+
+Yes, it was Rorie; looking exactly like the familiar Rorie of old; not
+one whit altered by marriage with a duke's only daughter; a stalwart
+young fellow in a rough gray suit, a dark face sunburnt to deepest
+bronze, eyes with a happy smile in them, firmly-cut lips half hidden by
+the thick brown beard, a face that would have looked well under a
+lifted helmet--such a face as the scared Saxons must have seen among
+the bold followers of William the Norman, when those hardy Norse
+warriors ran amuck in Dover town.
+
+"Not to my knowledge," answered this audacious villain, in his lightest
+tone. "I am not very geographical. But I should think it was rather out
+of the way."
+
+"Then you and Lady Mabel have changed your plans?" said Vixen,
+trembling very much, but trying desperately to be as calmly commonplace
+as a young lady talking to an ineligible partner at a ball. "You are
+not going to the north of Europe?"
+
+"Lady Mabel and I have changed our plans. We are not going to the north
+of Europe."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"In point of fact, we are not going anywhere."
+
+"But you have come to Jersey. That is part of your tour, I suppose?"
+
+"Do not be too hasty in your suppositions, Miss Tempest. _I_ have come
+to Jersey--I am quite willing to admit as much as that."
+
+"And Lady Mabel? She is with you, of course?"
+
+"Not the least bit in the world. To the best of my knowledge, Lady
+Mabel--I beg her pardon--Lady Mallow is now on her way to the
+fishing-grounds of Connemara with her husband."
+
+"Rorie!"
+
+What a glad happy cry that was! It was like a gush of sudden music from
+a young blackbird's throat on a sunny spring morning. The crimson dye
+had faded from Violet's cheeks a minute ago and left her deadly pale.
+Now the bright colour rushed back again, the happy brown eyes, the
+sweet blush-rose lips, broke into the gladdest smile that ever Rorie
+had seen upon her face. He held out his arms, he clasped her to his
+breast, where she rested unresistingly, infinitely happy. Great Heaven!
+how the whole world and herself had become transformed in this moment
+of unspeakable bliss! Rorie, the lost, the surrendered, was her own
+true lover after all!
+
+"Yes, dear, I obeyed you. You were hard and cruel to me that night in
+the fir plantation; but I knew in my heart of hearts that you were
+wise, and honest, and true; and I made up my mind that I would keep the
+engagement entered upon beside my mother's death-bed. Loving or
+unloving I would marry Mabel Ashbourne, and do my duty to her, and go
+down to my grave with the character of a good and faithful husband, as
+many a man has done who never loved his wife. So I held on, Vixen--yes,
+I will call you by the old pet name now: henceforward you are mine, and
+I shall call you what I like--I held on, and was altogether an
+exemplary lover; went wherever I was ordered to go, and always came
+when they whistled for me; rode at my lady's jog-trot pace in the Row,
+stood behind her chair at the opera, endured more classical music than
+ever man heard before and lived, listened to my sweetheart's manuscript
+verses, and, in a word, did my duty in that state of life to which it
+had pleased God to call me; and my reward has been to be jilted with
+every circumstance of ignominy on my wedding-morning."
+
+"Jilted!" cried Vixen, her big brown eyes shining, in pleasantest
+mockery. "Why I thought Lady Mabel adored you?"
+
+"So did I," answered Roderick naively, "and I pitied the poor dear
+thing for her infatuation. Had I not thought that, I should have broken
+my bonds long ago. It was not the love of the Duke's acres that held
+me. I still believe that Mabel was fond of me once, but Lord Mallow
+bowled me out. His eloquence, his parliamentary success, and, above
+all, his flattery, proved irresistible. The scoundrel brought a
+marriage certificate in his pocket when he came to stay at Ashbourne,
+and had the art to engage rooms at Southampton and sleep there a night
+_en passant_. He left a portmanteau and a hat-box there, and that
+constituted legal occupancy; so, when he won Lady Mabel's consent to an
+elopement--which I believe he did not succeed in doing till the night
+before our intended wedding-day--he had only to ride over to
+Southampton and give notice to the parson and clerk. The whole thing
+was done splendidly. Lady Mabel went out at eight o'clock, under the
+pretence of going to early church. Mallow was waiting for her with a
+fly, half a mile from Ashbourne. They drove to Southampton together,
+and were married at ten o'clock, in the old church of St. Michael.
+While the distracted Duchess and her women were hunting everywhere for
+the bride, and all the visitors at Ashbourne were arraying themselves
+in their wedding finery, and the village children were filling their
+baskets with flowers to strew upon the pathway of the happy pair,
+emblematical of the flowers which do _not_ blossom in the highway of
+life, the lady was over the border with Jock o' Hazeldean! Wasn't it
+fun, Vixen?"
+
+And the jilted one flung back his handsome head and laughed long and
+loud. It was too good a joke, the welcome release coming at the last
+moment.
+
+"At half-past ten there came a telegram from my runaway bride:
+
+
+"'Ask Roderick to forgive me, dear mamma. I found at the last that my
+heart was not mine to give, and I am married to Lord Mallow. I do not
+think my cousin will grieve very much.'
+
+
+"That last clause was sensible, anyhow, was it not, Vixen?"
+
+"I think the whole business was very sensible," said Vixen, with a
+sweet grave smile; "Lord Mallow wanted a clever wife and you did not.
+It was very wise of Lady Mabel to find that out before it was too late."
+
+"She will be very happy as Lady Mallow," said Roderick. "Mallow will
+legislate for Ireland, and she will rule him. He will have quite enough
+of Home Rule, poor beggar. Hibernia will be Mabelised. She is a dear
+good little thing. I quite love her, now she has jilted me."
+
+"But how did you come here?" asked Vixen, looking up at her lover in
+simple wonder. "All this happened only yesterday morning."
+
+"Is there not a steamer that leaves Southampton nightly? Had there not
+been one I would have chartered a boat for myself. I would have come in
+a cockle-shell--I would have come with a swimming-belt--I would have
+done anything wild and adventurous to hasten to my love. I started for
+Southampton the minute I had seen that too blessed telegram; went to
+St. Michael's, saw the register with its entry of Lord Mallow's
+marriage, hardly dry; and then went down to the docks and booked my
+berth. Oh, what a long day yesterday was--the longest day of my life!"
+
+"And of mine," sighed Vixen, between tears and laughter, "in spite of
+the Shepherd Kings."
+
+"Are those Jersey people you have picked up?" Rorie asked innocently.
+
+This turned the scale, and Vixen burst into a joyous peal of laughter.
+
+"How did you find me here?" she asked.
+
+"Very easily. Your custodian--what a grim-looking personage she is,
+by-the-way--told me where you were gone, and directed me how to follow
+you. I told her I had a most important message to deliver to you from
+your mother. You don't mind that artless device, I hope?"
+
+"Not much. How is dear mamma? She complains in her letters of not
+feeling very well."
+
+"I have not seen her lately. When I did, I thought her looking ill and
+worn. She will get well when you go back to her, Vixen. Your presence
+will be like sunshine."
+
+"I shall never go back to the Abbey House."
+
+"Yes, you will--for one fortnight at least. After that your home will
+be at Briarwood. You must be married from your father's house."
+
+"Who said I was going to be married, sir?" asked Vixen, with delicious
+coquetry.
+
+"I said it--I say it. Do you think I am too bold, darling? Ought I to
+go on my knees, love, and make you a formal offer? Why I have loved you
+all my life; and I think you have loved me as long."
+
+"So I have, Rorie," she answered softly, shyly, sweetly. "I forswore
+myself that night in the fir-wood. I always loved you; there was no
+stage of my life when you were not dearer to me than anyone on earth,
+except my father."
+
+"Dear love, I am ashamed of my happiness," said Roderick tenderly. "I
+have been so weak and unworthy. I gave away my hopes of bliss in one
+foolishly soft moment, to gratify my mother's dying wish--a wish that
+had been dinned into my ear the last years of her life--and I have done
+nothing but repent my folly ever since. Can you forgive me, Violet? I
+shall never forgive myself."
+
+"Let the past be like a dream that we have dreamt. It will make the
+future seem so much the brighter."
+
+"Yes."
+
+And then under the blue August sky, fearless and unabashed, these happy
+lovers gave each other the kiss of betrothal.
+
+"What am I to do with you?" Vixen asked laughingly. "I ought to go home
+to Les Tourelles."
+
+"Don't you think you might take me with you? I am your young man now,
+you know. I hope it is not a case of 'no followers allowed.'"
+
+"I'm afraid Miss Skipwith will feel disappointed in me. She thought I
+was going to have a mission."
+
+"A mission!"
+
+"Yes; that I was going for theology. And for it all to end in my being
+engaged to be married! It seems such a commonplace ending, does it not?"
+
+"Decidedly. As commonplace as the destiny of Adam and Eve, whom God
+joined together in Eden. Take me back to Les Tourelles, Vixen. I think
+I shall be able to manage Miss Skipwith."
+
+They left the battlements, and descended the narrow stairs, and went
+side by side, through sunlit fields and lanes, to the old Carolian
+manor house, happy with that unutterable, immeasurable joy which
+belongs to happy love, and to love only; whether it be the romantic
+passion of a Juliet leaning from her balcony, the holy bliss of a
+mother hanging over her child's cradle, or the sober affection of the
+wife who has seen the dawn and close of a silver wedding and yet loves
+on with love unchangeable--a monument of constancy in an age of easy
+divorce.
+
+The distance was long; but to these two the walk was of the shortest.
+It was as if they trod on flowers or airy cloud, so lightly fell their
+footsteps on the happy earth.
+
+What would Miss Skipwith say? Vixen laughed merrily at the image of
+that cheated lady.
+
+"To think that all my Egyptian researches should end in--Antony!" she
+said, with a joyous look at her lover, who required to be informed
+which Antony she meant.
+
+"I remember him in Plutarch," he said. "He was a jolly fellow."
+
+"And in Shakespeare."
+
+"_Connais pas_," said Rorie. "I've read some of Shakespeare's plays, of
+course, but not all. He wrote too much."
+
+It was five o'clock in the afternoon when they arrived at Les
+Tourelles. They had loitered a little in those sunny lanes, stopping to
+look seaward through a gap in the hedge, or to examine a fern which was
+like the ferns of Hampshire. They had such a world of lovers' nonsense
+to say to each other, such confessions of past unhappiness, such
+schemes of future bliss.
+
+"I'm afraid you'll never like Briarwood as well as the Abbey House,"
+said Rorie humbly. "I tried my best to patch it up for Lady Mabel; for,
+you see, as I felt I fell short in the matter of affection, I wanted to
+do the right thing in furniture and decorations. But the house is
+lamentably modern and commonplace. I'm afraid you'll never be happy
+there."
+
+"Rorie, I could be happy with you if our home were no better than the
+charcoal-burner's hut in Mark Ash," protested Vixen.
+
+"It's very good of you to say that. Do you like sage-green?" Rorie
+asked with a doubtful air.
+
+"Pretty well. It reminds me of mamma's dress-maker, Madame Theodore."
+
+"Because Mabel insisted upon having sage-green curtains, and
+chair-covers, and a sage-green wall with a chocolate dado--did you ever
+hear of a dado?--in the new morning-room I built for her. I'm rather
+afraid you won't like it; I should have preferred pink or blue myself,
+and no dado. It looks so much as if one had run short of wall-paper.
+But it can all be altered by-and-by, if you don't like it."
+
+They found Miss Skipwith pacing the weedy gravel walk in front of her
+parlour window, with a disturbed air, and a yellow envelope in her hand.
+
+"My dear, this has been an eventful day," she exclaimed. "I have been
+very anxious for your return. Here is a telegram for you; and as it is
+the first you have had since you have been staying here, I conclude it
+is of some importance."
+
+Vixen took the envelope eagerly from her hand.
+
+"If you were not standing by my side, a telegram would frighten me,"
+she whispered to Roderick. "It might tell me you were dead."
+
+The telegram was from Captain Winstanley to Miss Tempest:
+
+
+"Come home by the next boat. Your mother is ill, and anxious to see
+you. The carriage will meet you at Southampton."
+
+
+Poor Vixen looked at her lover with a conscience-stricken countenance.
+
+"Oh, Rorie, and I have been so wickedly, wildly happy!" she cried, as
+if it were a crime to have so rejoiced. "And I made so light of mamma's
+last letter, in which she complained of being ill. I hardly gave it a
+thought."
+
+"I don't suppose there is anything very wrong," said Rorie, in a
+comforting tone, after he had studied those few bold words in the
+telegram, trying to squeeze the utmost meaning out of the brief
+sentence. "You see, Captain Winstanley does not say that your mother is
+dangerously ill, or even very ill; he only says ill. That might mean
+something quite insignificant--hay-fever or neuralgia, or a nervous
+headache."
+
+"But he tells me to go home--he who hates me, and was so glad to get me
+out of the house."
+
+"It is your mother who summons you home, no doubt. She is mistress in
+her own house, of course."
+
+"You would not say that if you knew Captain Winstanley."
+
+They were alone together on the gravel walk, Miss Skipwith having
+retired to make tea in her dingy parlour. It had dawned upon her that
+this visitor of Miss Tempest's was no common friend; and she had
+judiciously left the lovers together. "Poor misguided child!" she
+murmured to herself pityingly; "just as she was developing a vocation
+for serious things! But perhaps if is all for the best. I doubt if she
+would ever have had breadth of mind to grapple with the great problems
+of natural religion."
+
+"Isn't it dreadful?" said Vixen, walking up and down with the telegram
+in her hand. "I shall have to endure hours of suspense before I can
+know how my poor mother is. There is no boat till to-morrow morning.
+It's no use talking, Rorie." Mr. Vawdrey was following her up and down
+the walk affectionately, but not saying a word. "I feel convinced that
+mamma must be seriously ill; I should not be sent for unless it were
+so. In all her letters there has not been a word about my going home. I
+was not wanted."
+
+"But, dearest love, you know that your mother is apt to think seriously
+of trifles."
+
+"Rorie, you told me an hour ago that she was looking ill when last you
+saw her."
+
+Roderick looked at his watch.
+
+"There is one thing I might do," he said, musingly. "Has Miss Skipwith
+a horse and trap?"
+
+"Not the least in the world."
+
+"That's a pity; it would have saved time. I'll get down to St. Helier's
+somehow, telegraph to Captain Winstanley to inquire the exact state of
+your mother's health, and not come back till I bring you his answer."
+
+"Oh, Rorie, that would be good of you!" exclaimed Vixen. "But it seems
+too cruel to send you away like that; you have been travelling so long.
+You have had nothing to eat. You must be dreadfully tired."
+
+"Tired! Have I not been with you? There are some people whose presence
+makes one unconscious of humanity's weaknesses. No, darling, I am
+neither tired nor hungry; I am only ineffably happy. I'll go down and
+set the wires in motion; and then I'll find out all about the steamer
+for to-morrow morning, and we will go back to Hampshire together."
+
+And again the rejoicing lover quoted the Laureate:
+
+  "And on her lover's arm she leant,
+  And round her waist she felt it fold;
+  And far across the hills they went,
+  In that new world which is the old."
+
+
+Rorie had to walk all the way to St. Helier's. He dispatched an urgent
+message to Captain Winstanley, and then dined temperately at a French
+restaurant not far from the quay, where the _bon vivants_ of Jersey are
+wont to assemble nightly. When he had dined he walked about the
+harbour, looking at the ships, and watching the lights beginning to
+glimmer from the barrack-windows, and the straggling street along the
+shore, and the far-off beacons shining out, as the rosy sunset darkened
+to purple night.
+
+He went to the office two or three times before the return message had
+come; but at last it was handed to him, and he read it by the
+office-lamp:
+
+
+"_Captain Winstanley, Abbey House, Hampshire, to Mr. Vawdrey, St.
+Heliers_.
+
+"My wife is seriously ill, but in no immediate danger. The doctors
+order extreme quiet; all agitation is to be carefully avoided. Let Miss
+Tempest bear this in mind when she comes home."
+
+
+Roderick drove back to Les Tourelles with this message, which was in
+some respects reassuring, or at any rate afforded a certainty less
+appalling than Violet's measureless fears.
+
+Vixen was sitting on the pilgrim's bench beside the manor house
+gateway, watching for her lover's return. Oh, happy lover, to be thus
+watched for and thus welcomed; thrice, nay, a thousandfold happy in the
+certainty that she was his own for ever! He put his arm round her, and
+they wandered along the shadowy lane together, between dewy banks of
+tangled verdure, luminous with glow-worms. The stars were shining above
+the overarching roof of foliage, the harvest moon was rising over the
+distant sea.
+
+"What a beautiful place Jersey is!" exclaimed Vixen innocently, as she
+strolled lower down the lane, circled by her lover's arm. "I had no
+idea it was half so lovely. But then of course I was never allowed to
+roam about in the moonlight. And, indeed, Rorie, I think we had better
+go in directly. Miss Skipwith will be wondering."
+
+"Let her wonder, love. I can explain everything when we go in. She was
+young herself once upon a time, though one would hardly give her credit
+for it; and you may depend she has walked in this lane by moonlight.
+Yes, by the light of that very same sober old moon, who has looked down
+with the same indulgent smile upon endless generations of lovers."
+
+"From Adam and Eve to Antony and Cleopatra," suggested Vixen, who
+couldn't get Egypt out of her head.
+
+"Antony and Cleopatra were middle-aged lovers," said Rorie. "The moon
+must have despised them. Youth is the only season when love is wisdom,
+Vixen. In later life it means folly and drivelling, wrinkles badly
+hidden under paint, pencilled eyebrows, and false hair. Aphrodite
+should be for ever young."
+
+"Perhaps that's why the poor thing puts on paint and false hair when
+she finds youth departed," said Vixen.
+
+"Then she is no longer Aphrodite, but Venus Pandemos, and a wicked old
+harridan," answered Rorie.
+
+And then he began to sing, with a rich full voice that rolled far upon
+the still air.
+
+
+  "Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
+  Old Time is still a-flying;
+  And this same flower that smiles to-day
+  To-morrow will be dying,
+
+  "Then be not coy, but use your time,
+  And while ye may, go marry;
+  For having lost but once your prime,
+  You may for ever tarry."
+
+
+"What a fine voice you have, Rorie!" cried Vixen.
+
+"Have I really? I thought that it was only Lord Mallow who could sing.
+Do you know that I was desperately jealous of that nobleman, once--when
+I fancied he was singing himself into your affections. Little did I
+think that he was destined to become your greatest benefactor."
+
+"I shall make you sing duets with me, sir, by-and-by."
+
+"You shall make me stand on my head, or play clown in an amateur
+pantomime, or do anything supremely ridiculous, if you like. 'Being
+your slave what can I do----'"
+
+"Yes, you must sing Mendelssohn with me. 'I would that my love,' and
+'Greeting.'"
+
+"I have only one idea of greeting, after a cruel year of parting and
+sadness," said Rorie, drawing the bright young face to his own, and
+covering it with kisses.
+
+Again Vixen urged that Miss Skipwith would be wondering, and this time
+with such insistence, that Rorie was obliged to turn back and ascend
+the hill.
+
+"How cruel it is of you to snatch a soul out of Elysium," he
+remonstrated. "I felt as if I was lost in some happy dream--wandering
+down this path, which leads I know not where, into a dim wooded vale,
+such as the fairies love to inhabit?"
+
+"The road leads down to the inn at Le Tac, where Cockney excursionists
+go to eat lobsters, and play skittles," said Vixen, laughing at her
+lover.
+
+They went back to the manor house, where they found Miss Skipwith
+annotating a tremendous manuscript on blue foolscap, a work whose
+outward semblance would have been enough to frighten and deter any
+publisher in his right mind.
+
+"How late you are, Violet," she said, looking up dreamily from her
+manuscript. "I have been rewriting and polishing portions of my essay
+on Buddha. The time has flown, and I had no idea of the hour till
+Doddery came in just now to ask if he could shut up the house. And then
+I remembered that you had gone out to the gate to watch for Mr.
+Vawdrey."
+
+"I'm afraid you must think our goings on rather eccentric," Rorie began
+shyly; "but perhaps Vix----Miss Tempest has told you what old friends
+we are; that, in fact, I am quite the oldest friend she has. I came to
+Jersey on purpose to ask her to marry me, and she has been good
+enough"--smiling blissfully at Vixen, who tried to look daggers at
+him--"to say Yes."
+
+"Dear me!" exclaimed Miss Skipwith, looking much alarmed; "this is very
+embarrassing. I am so unversed in such matters. My life has been given
+up to study, far from the haunts of man. My nephew informed me that
+there was a kind of--in point of fact--a flirtation between Miss
+Tempest and a gentleman in Hampshire, of which he highly disapproved,
+the gentleman being engaged to marry his cousin."
+
+"It was I," cried Rorie, "but there was no flirtation between Miss
+Tempest and me. Whoever asserted such a thing was a slanderer and----I
+won't offend you by saying what he was, Miss Skipwith. There was no
+flirtation. I was Miss Tempest's oldest friend--her old playfellow, and
+we liked to see each other, and were always friendly together. But it
+was an understood thing that I was to marry my cousin. It was Miss
+Tempest's particular desire that I should keep an engagement made
+beside my mother's death-bed. If Miss Tempest had thought otherwise, I
+should have been at her feet. I would have flung that engagement to the
+winds; for Violet Tempest is the only woman I ever loved. And now all
+the world may know it, for my cousin has jilted me, and I am a free
+man."
+
+"Good gracious! Can I really believe this?" asked Miss Skipwith,
+appealing to Violet.
+
+"Rorie never told a falsehood in his life," Vixen answered proudly.
+
+"I feel myself in a most critical position, my dear child," said Miss
+Skipwith, looking from Roderick's frank eager face to Vixen's downcast
+eyelids and mantling blushes. "I had hoped such a different fate for
+you. I thought the thirst for knowledge had arisen within you, that the
+aspiration to distinguish yourself from the ruck of ignorant women
+would follow the arising of that thirst, in natural sequence. And here
+I find you willing to marry a gentleman who happens to have been the
+companion of your childhood, and to resign--for his sake--all hopes of
+distinction."
+
+"My chances of distinction were so small, dear Miss Skipwith," faltered
+Vixen. "If I had possessed your talents!"
+
+"True," sighed the reformer of all the theologies. "We have not all the
+same gifts. There was a day when I thought it would be my lot to marry
+and subside into the dead level of domesticity; but I am thankful to
+think I escaped the snare."
+
+"And the gentleman who wanted to marry you, how thankful must he be!"
+thought Rorie dumbly.
+
+"Yet there have been moments of depression when I have been weak enough
+to regret those early days," sighed Miss Skipwith. "At best our
+strength is tempered with weakness. It is the fate of genius to be
+lonely. And now I suppose I am to lose you, Violet?"
+
+"I am summoned home to poor mamma," said Vixen.
+
+"And after poor mamma has recovered, as I hope she speedily may, Violet
+will be wanted by her poor husband," said Rorie. "You must come across
+the sea and dance at our wedding, Miss Skipwith."
+
+"Ah," sighed Miss Skipwith, "if you could but have waited for the
+establishment of my universal church, what a grand ceremonial your
+marriage might have been!"
+
+Miss Skipwith, though regretful, and inclined to take a dismal view of
+the marriage state and its responsibilities under the existing
+dispensation, was altogether friendly. She had a frugal supper of cold
+meat and salad, bread and cheese and cider, served in honour of Mr.
+Vawdrey, and they three sat till midnight talking happily--Miss
+Skipwith of theology, the other two of themselves and the smiling
+future, and such an innocent forest life as Rosalind and Orlando may
+have promised themselves, when they were deep in love, and the banished
+duke's daughter sighed for no wider kingdom than a shepherd's hut in
+the woodland, with the lover of her choice.
+
+There were plenty of spare bedrooms at the manor house, but so bare and
+empty, so long abandoned of human occupants, as to be fit only for the
+habitation of mice and spiders, stray bat or wandering owl. So Roderick
+had to walk down the hill again to St. Helier's, where he found
+hospitality at an hotel. He was up betimes, too happy to need much
+sleep, and at seven o'clock he and Vixen were walking in the dewy
+garden, planning the wonderful life they were to lead at Briarwood, and
+all the good they were to do. Happiness was to radiate from their home,
+as heat from the sun. The sick, and the halt, and the lame were to come
+to Briarwood; as they had come to the Abbey House before Captain
+Winstanley's barren rule of economy.
+
+"God has been so good to us, Rorie," said Vixen, nestling at her lover's
+side. "Can we ever be good enough to others?"
+
+"We'll do our best, anyhow, little one," he answered gently. "I am not
+like Mallow, I've no great ideas about setting my native country in
+order and doing away with the poor laws; but I've always tried to make
+the people round me happy, and to keep them out of the workhouse and
+the county jail."
+
+They went to the court-yard where poor Argus lived his life of
+isolation, and they told him they were going to be married, and that
+his pathway henceforward would be strewn with roses, or at all events
+Spratt's biscuits. He was particularly noisy and demonstrative, and
+appeared to receive this news with a wild rapture that was eminently
+encouraging, doing his best to knock Roderick down, in the tumult of
+his delight. The lovers and the dog were alike childish in their
+infinite happiness, unthinking beings of the present hour, too happy to
+look backward or forward, this little space of time called "now"
+holding all things needful for delight.
+
+These are the rare moments of life, to which the heart of man cries,
+"Oh stay, thou art so beautiful!" and could the death-bell toll then,
+and doom come then, life would end in a glorious euthanasia.
+
+Violet's portmanteaux were packed. All was ready. There would be just
+time for a hurried breakfast with Miss Skipwith, and then the fly from
+St. Helier's would be at the gate to carry the exile on the first stage
+of the journey home.
+
+"Poor mamma!" sighed Vixen. "How wicked of me to feel go happy, when
+she is ill."
+
+And then Rorie comforted her with kindly-meant sophistries. Mrs.
+Winstanley's indisposition was doubtless more an affair of the nerves
+than a real illness. She would be cheered and revived immediately by
+her daughter's return.
+
+"How could she suppose she would be able to live without you!" cried
+Rorie. "I know I found life hard to bear."
+
+"Yet you bore it for more than a year with admirable patience,"
+retorted Vixen, laughing at him; "and I do not find you particularly
+altered or emaciated."
+
+"Oh, I used to eat and drink," said Rorie, with a look of
+self-contempt. "I'm afraid I'm a horribly low-minded brute. I used even
+to enjoy my dinner, sometimes, after a long country ride; but I could
+never make you understand what a bore life was to me all last year, how
+the glory and enjoyment seemed to have gone out of existence. The
+dismal monotony of my days weighed upon me like a nightmare. Life had
+become a formula. I felt like a sick man who has to take so many doses
+of medicine, so many pills, so many basins of broth, in the twenty-four
+hours. There was no possible resistance. The sick-nurse was there, in
+the shape of Fate, ready to use brute force if I rebelled. I never did
+rebel. I assure you, Vixen, I was a model lover. Mabel and I had not a
+single quarrel. I think that is a proof that we did not care a straw
+for each other."
+
+"You and I will have plenty of quarrels," said Vixen. "It will be so
+nice to make friends again."
+
+Now came the hurried breakfast--a cup of tea drunk, standing, not a
+crumb eaten; agitated adieux to Miss Skipwith, who wept very womanly
+tears over her departing charge, and uttered good wishes in a choking
+voice. Even the Dodderys seemed to Vixen more human than usual, now
+that she was going to leave them, in all likelihood for ever. Miss
+Skipwith came to the gate to see the travellers off, and ascended the
+pilgrim's bench in order to have the latest view of the fly. From this
+eminence she waved her handkerchief as a farewell salutation.
+
+"Poor soul!" sighed Vixen; "she has never been unkind to me; but oh!
+what a dreary life I have led in that dismal old house!"
+
+They had Argus in the fly with them, sitting up, with his mouth open,
+and his tail flapping against the bottom of the vehicle in perpetual
+motion. He kept giving his paw first to Vixen and then to Rorie, and
+exacted a great deal of attention, insomuch that Mr. Vawdrey exclaimed:
+
+"Vixen, if you don't keep that dog within bounds, I shall think him as
+great a nuisance as a stepson. I offered to marry you, you know, not
+you and your dog."
+
+"You are very rude!" cried Vixen.
+
+"You don't expect me to be polite, I hope. What is the use of marrying
+one's old playfellow if one cannot be uncivil to her now and then? To
+me you will always be the tawny-haired little girl I used to tease."
+
+"Who used to tease you, you mean. You were very meek in those days."
+
+Oh, what a happy voyage that was, over the summer sea! They sat side by
+side upon the bridge, sheltered from wind and sun, and talked the happy
+nonsense lovers talk: but which can hardly be so sweet between lovers
+whose youth and childhood have been spent far apart, as between these
+two who had been reared amidst the same sylvan world, and had every
+desire and every thought in unison. How brief the voyage seemed. It was
+but an hour or so since Roderick had been buying peaches and grapes, as
+they lay at the end of the pier at Guernsey, and here were the Needles
+and the chalky cliffs and undulating downs of the Wight. The Wight!
+That meant Hampshire and home!
+
+"How often those downs have been our weather-glass, Rorie, when we have
+been riding across the hills between Lyndhurst and Beaulieu," said
+Vixen.
+
+She had a world of questions to ask him about all that had happened
+during her exile. She almost expected to hear that Lyndhurst steeple
+had fallen; that the hounds had died of old age; that the Knightwood
+Oak had been struck by lightning; or that some among those calamities
+which time naturally brings had befallen the surroundings of her home.
+It was the strangest thing in the world to hear that nothing had
+happened, that everything was exactly the same as it had been when she
+went away. That dreary year of exile had seemed long enough for
+earthquakes and destructions, or even for slow decay.
+
+"Do you know what became of Arion?" asked Vixen, almost afraid to shape
+the question.
+
+"Oh, I believe he was sold, soon after you left home," Rorie answered
+carelessly.
+
+"Sold!" echoed Vixen drearily. "Poor dear thing! Yes, I felt sure
+Captain Winstanley would sell him. But I hoped----"
+
+"What?"
+
+"That some one I knew might buy him. Lord Mallow perhaps."
+
+"Lord Mallow! Ah, you thought he would buy your horse, for love of the
+rider. But you see constancy isn't one of that noble Irishman's
+virtues. He loves and he rides away--when the lady won't have him, bien
+entendu. No, Arion was sent up to Tattersall's, and disposed of in the
+usual way. Some fellow bought him for a covert hack."
+
+"I hope the man wasn't a heavy weight," exclaimed Vixen, almost in
+tears.
+
+She thought Rorie was horribly unfeeling.
+
+"What does it matter? A horse must earn his salt."
+
+"I had rather my poor pet had been shot, and buried in one of the
+meadows at home," said Vixen plaintively.
+
+"Captain Winstanley was too wise to allow that. Your poor pet fetched a
+hundred and forty-five guineas under the hammer."
+
+"I don't think it is very kind of you to talk of him so lightly," said
+Vixen.
+
+This was the only little cloud that came between them in all the
+voyage. Long before sunset they were steaming into Southampton Water,
+and the yellow light was still shining on the furzy levels, when the
+brougham that contained Vixen and her fortunes drove along the road to
+Lyndhurst.
+
+She had asked the coachman for news of his mistress, and had been told
+that Mrs. Winstanley was pretty much the same. The answer was in some
+measure reassuring: yet Violet's spirits began to sink as she drew
+nearer home, and must so soon find herself face to face with the truth.
+There was a sadness too in that quiet evening hour; and the shadowy
+distances seemed full of gloom, after the dancing waves, and the gay
+morning light.
+
+The dusk was creeping slowly on as the carriage passed the lodge, and
+drove between green walls of rhododendron to the house. Captain
+Winstanley was smoking his cigar in the porch, leaning against the
+Gothic masonry, in the attitude Vixen knew so well of old.
+
+"If my mother were lying in her coffin I daresay he would be just the
+same," she thought bitterly.
+
+The Captain came down to open the carriage-door. Vixen's first glance
+at his face showed her that he looked worn and anxious.
+
+"Is mamma very ill?" she asked tremulously.
+
+"Very ill," he answered, in a low voice. "Mind, you are to do or say
+nothing that can agitate her. You must be quiet and cheerful. If you
+see a change you must take care to say nothing about it."
+
+"Why did you leave me so long in ignorance of her illness? Why did you
+not send for me sooner?"
+
+"Your mother has only been seriously ill within the past few days. I
+sent for you directly I saw any occasion for your presence," the
+Captain answered coldly.
+
+He now for the first time became aware of Mr. Vawdrey, who had got out
+of the brougham on the other side and came round to assist in the
+unshipment of Violet's belongings.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Vawdrey. Where in Heaven's name did you spring
+from?" he inquired, with a vexed air.
+
+"I have had the honour of escorting Miss Tempest from Jersey, where I
+happened to be when she received your telegram."
+
+"Wasn't that rather an odd proceeding, and likely to cause scandal?"
+
+"I think not; for before people can hear that Miss Tempest and I
+crossed in the same boat I hope they will have heard that Miss Tempest
+and I are going to be married."
+
+"I see," cried the Captain, with a short laugh of exceeding bitterness;
+"being off with the old love you have made haste to be on with the new."
+
+"I beg your pardon. It is no new love, but a love as old as my
+boyhood," answered Rorie. "In one weak moment of my life I was foolish
+enough to let my mother choose a wife for me, though I had made my own
+choice, unconsciously, years before."
+
+"May I go to mamma at once?" asked Vixen.
+
+The Captain said Yes, and she went up the staircase and along the
+corridor to Mrs. Winstanley's room. Oh, how dear and familiar the old
+house looked, how full of richness and colour after the bareness and
+decay of Les Tourelles; brocaded curtains hanging in heavy folds
+against the carved oaken framework of a deep-set window; gleams of
+evening light stealing through old stained glass; everywhere a rich
+variety of form and hue that filled and satisfied the eye; a house
+worth living in assuredly, with but a little love to sanctify and
+hallow all these things. But how worthless these things if discord and
+hatred found a habitation among them.
+
+The door of Mrs. Winstanley's room stood half open, and the lamplight
+shone faintly from within. Violet went softly in. Her mother was lying
+on a sofa by the hearth, where a wood-fire had been newly lighted.
+Pauline was sitting opposite her, reading aloud in a very sleepy voice
+out of the _Court Journal:_ "The bride was exquisitely attired in ivory
+satin, with flounces of old _Duchesse_ lace, the skirt covered with
+_tulle_, _bouillone_, and looped with garlands of orange-blossom----"
+
+"Pauline," murmured the invalid feebly, "will you never learn to read
+with expression? You are giving me the vaguest idea of Lady Evelyn
+Fitzdamer's appearance."
+
+Violet went over to the sofa and knelt by her mother's side and
+embraced her tenderly, looking at her earnestly all the while, in the
+clear soft lamp-light. Yes, there was indeed a change. The always
+delicate face was pinched and shrunken. The ivory of the complexion had
+altered to a dull gray. Premature age had hollowed the cheeks, and
+lined the forehead. It was a change that meant decline and death.
+Violet's heart sank as she beheld it: but she remembered the Captain's
+warning, and bravely strove to put on an appearance of cheerfulness.
+
+"Dear mother, I am so happy to come home to you," she said gaily; "and
+I am going to nurse and pet you, for the next week or so; till you get
+tremendously well and strong, and are able to take me to innumerable
+parties."
+
+"My dear Violet, I have quite given up parties; and I shall never be
+strong again."
+
+"Dearest, it has always been your habit to fancy yourself an invalid."
+
+"Yes, Violet, once I may have been full of fancies: but now I know that
+I am ill. You will not be unkind or unjust to Conrad, will you, dear?
+He sent for you directly I asked him. He has been all goodness to me.
+Try and get on with him nicely, dear, for my sake."
+
+This was urged with such piteous supplication, that it would have
+needed a harder heart than Violet's to deny the prayer.
+
+"Dear mother, forget that the Captain and I ever quarrelled," said
+Vixen. "I mean to be excellent friends with him henceforward. And,
+darling, I have a secret to tell you if you would like to hear it."
+
+"What secret, dear?"
+
+"Lady Mabel Ashbourne has jilted Roderick!"
+
+"My love, that is no secret. I heard all about it day before yesterday.
+People have talked of nothing else since it happened. Lady Mabel has
+behaved shamefully."
+
+"Lady Mabel has behaved admirably. If other women were wise enough to
+draw back at the last moment there would be fewer unhappy marriages.
+But Lady Mabel's elopement is only the prologue to my story."
+
+"What can you mean, child?"
+
+"Roderick came to Jersey to make me an offer."
+
+"So soon! Oh, Violet, what bad taste!"
+
+"Ought he to have gone into mourning? He did not even sing willow, but
+came straight off to me, and told me he had loved me all his life; so
+now you will have my _trousseau_ to think about, dearest, and I shall
+want all your good taste. You know how little I have of my own."
+
+"Ah, Violet, if you had only married Lord Mallow! I could have given my
+whole mind to your _trousseau_ then; but it is too late now, dear. I
+have not strength enough to interest myself in anything."
+
+The truth of this complaint was painfully obvious. Pamela's day was
+done. She lay, half effaced among her down pillows, as weak and
+helpless-looking as a snowdrop whose stem is broken. The life that was
+left in her was the merest remnant of life. It was as if one could see
+the last sands running down in the glass of time.
+
+Violet sat by her side, and pressed her cold hands in both her own.
+Mrs. Winstanley was very cold, although the log had blazed up fiercely,
+and the room seemed stifling to the traveller who had come out of the
+cool night air.
+
+"Dear mother, there will be no pleasure for me in being married if you
+do not take an interest in my _trousseau_," pleaded Vixen, trying to
+cheer the invalid by dwelling on the things her soul had most loved in
+health.
+
+"Do not talk about it, my dear," her mother exclaimed peevishly. "I
+don't know where the money is to come from. Theodore's bill was
+positively dreadful. Poor Conrad had quite a struggle to pay it. You
+will be rich when you are of age, but we are awfully poor. If we do not
+save money during the next few years we shall be destitute. Conrad says
+so. Fifteen hundred a year, and a big house like this to maintain. It
+would be starvation. Conrad has closed Theodore's account. I am sure I
+don't know where your _trousseau_ is to come from."
+
+Here the afflicted Pamela began to sob hysterically, and Vixen found it
+hard work to comfort her.
+
+"My dearest mother, how can you be poor and I rich?" she said, when the
+invalid had been tranquillised, and was lying helpless and exhausted.
+"Do you suppose I would not share my income with you? Rorie has plenty
+of money. He would not want any of mine. You can have it all, if you
+like."
+
+"You talk like a child, Violet. You know nothing of the world. Do you
+think I would take your money, and let people say I robbed my own
+daughter? I have a little too much self-respect for that. Conrad is
+doing all he can to make our future comfortable. I have been foolish
+and extravagant. But I shall never be so any more. I do not care about
+dress or society now. I have outlived those follies."
+
+"Dear mother, I cannot bear to hear you talk like that," said Vixen,
+feeling that when her mother left off caring about fine dresses she
+must be getting ready for that last garment which we must all wear some
+day, the fashion whereof changes but little. "Why should you relinquish
+society, or leave off dressing stylishly? You are in the prime of life."
+
+"No, Violet, I am a poor faded creature," whimpered Mrs. Winstanley,
+"stout women are handsome at forty, or even"--with a
+shudder--"five-and-forty. The age suits their style. But I was always
+slim and fragile, and of late I have grown painfully thin. No one but a
+Parisian dressmaker could make me presentable; and I have done with
+Paris dresses. The utmost I can hope for is to sit alone by the
+fireside, and work antimacassars in crewels."
+
+"But, dear mother, you did not marry Captain Winstanley in order to
+lead such a life as that? You might as well be in a _beguinage_."
+
+Vain were Vixen's efforts to console and cheer. A blight had fallen
+upon her mother's mind and spirits--a blight that had crept slowly on,
+unheeded by the husband, till one morning the local practitioner--a
+gentleman who had lived all his life among his patients, and knew them
+so well externally that he might fairly be supposed to have a minute
+acquaintance with their internal organism--informed Captain Winstanley
+that he feared there was something wrong with his wife's heart, and
+that he thought that it would be well to get the highest opinion.
+
+The Captain, startled out of his habitual self-command, looked up from
+his desk with an ashy countenance.
+
+"Do you mean that Mrs. Winstanley has heart disease--something
+organically wrong?"
+
+"Unhappily I fear it is so. I have been for some time aware that she
+had a weak heart. Her complexion, her feeble circulation, several
+indications have pointed to that conclusion. This morning I have made a
+thorough examination, and I find mischief, decided mischief."
+
+"That means she may die at any moment, suddenly, without an instant's
+warning."
+
+"There would always be that fear. Or she might sink gradually from want
+of vital power. There is a sad deficiency of power. I hardly ever knew
+anyone remain so long in so low a state."
+
+"You have been attending her, off and on, ever since our marriage. You
+must have seen her sinking. Why have you not warned me before?"
+
+"It seemed hardly necessary. You must have perceived the change
+yourself. You must have noticed her want of appetite, her distaste for
+exertion of any kind, her increasing feebleness."
+
+"I am not a doctor."
+
+"No; but these are things that speak plainly to every eye--to the eye
+of affection most of all."
+
+"We are slow to perceive the alteration in anyone we see daily and
+hourly. You should have drawn my attention to my wife's health. It is
+unfair, it is horrible to let this blow come upon me unawares."
+
+If the Captain had appeared indifferent hitherto, there was no doubt of
+the intensity of his feeling now. He had started up from his chair, and
+walked backwards and forwards, strongly agitated.
+
+"Shall we have another opinion?" asked Dr. Martin.
+
+"Certainly. The highest in the land."
+
+"Dr. Lorrimer, of Harley Street, is the most famous man for heart
+disease."
+
+"I'll telegraph to him immediately," said the Captain.
+
+He ordered his horse, rode into Lyndhurst and dispatched his telegram
+without the loss of a minute. Never had Dr. Martin seen anyone more in
+earnest, or more deeply stricken by an announcement of evil.
+
+"Poor fellow, he must be very fond of her," mused the surgeon, as he
+rode off to his next call. "And yet I should have thought she must be
+rather a tiresome kind of woman to live with. Her income dies with her
+I suppose. That makes a difference."
+
+The specialist from Harley Street arrived at the Abbey House on the
+following afternoon. He made his examination and gave his opinion,
+which was very much the same as Dr. Martin's, but clothed in more
+scientific language.
+
+"This poor lady's heart has been wearing out for the last twenty
+years," he told the local surgeon; "but she seems, from your account,
+to have been using it rather worse for the last year or so. Do you know
+if she has had any particular occasion for worry?"
+
+"Her only daughter has not got on very well with the second husband, I
+believe," said Dr. Martin. "That may have worried her."
+
+"Naturally. Small domestic anxieties of that kind are among the most
+potent causes of heart disease." And then Dr. Lorrimer gave his
+instructions about treatment. He had not the faintest hope of saving
+the patient, but he gave her the full benefit of his science. A man
+could scarcely come so far and do less. When he went out into the hall
+and met the Captain, who was waiting anxiously for his verdict, he
+began in the usual oracular strain; but Captain Winstanley cut him
+short without ceremony.
+
+"I don't want to hear details," he said. "Martin will do everything you
+tell him. I want the best or the worst you can tell me in straightest
+language. Can you save my wife, or am I to lose her?"
+
+"My dear sir, while there is life there is hope," answered the
+physician, with the compassionate air that had grown habitual, like his
+black frock-coat and general sobriety of attire. "I have seen wonderful
+recoveries--or rather a wonderful prolongation of life, for cure is, of
+course, impossible--in cases as bad as this. But----"
+
+"Ah!" cried the Captain, bitterly, "there is a 'but.'"
+
+"In this case there is a sad want of rallying power. Frankly, I have
+very little hope. Do all you can to cheer and comfort your wife's mind,
+and to make her last days happy. All medicine apart, that is about the
+best advice I can give you."
+
+After this the doctor took his fee, gave the Captain's hand a cordial
+grip, expressive of sympathy and kindliness, and went his way, feeling
+assured that a good deal hung upon that little life which he had left
+slowly ebbing away, like a narrow rivulet dwindling into dryness under
+a July sun.
+
+"What does the London doctor say of me, Conrad?" asked Mrs. Winstanley,
+when her husband went to her presently, with his countenance composed
+and cheerful. "He tired me dreadfully with his stethoscope. Does he
+think me very ill? Is there anything wrong with my lungs?"
+
+"No, love. It is a case of weakness and languor. You must make up your
+mind to get strong; and you will do more for yourself than all the
+physicians in London can do."
+
+"But what does he say of my heart? How does he explain that dreadful
+fluttering--the suffocating sensation--the----?'
+
+"He explains nothing. It is a nervous affection, which you must combat
+by getting strong. Dear love!" exclaimed the Captain, with a very real
+burst of feeling, "what can I do to make your life happy? what can I do
+to assure you of my love?"
+
+"Send for Violet," faltered his wife, raising herself upon her elbow,
+and looking at him with timorous eagerness. "I have never been happy
+since she left us. It seems as if I had turned her out of doors--out of
+her own house--my kind husband's only daughter. It has preyed upon my
+mind continually, that--and other things."
+
+"Dearest, I will telegraph to her in an hour. She shall be with you as
+soon as the steamer can bring her."
+
+"A thousand thanks, Conrad. You are always good. I know I have been
+weak and foolish to think----"
+
+Here she hesitated, and tears began to roll down her hollow cheeks.
+
+"To think what, love?" asked her husband tenderly.
+
+If love, if tenderness, if flattery, if all sweetest things that ever
+man said to a woman could lure this feeble spirit back to life, she
+should be so won, vowed the Captain. He had never been unkind to her,
+or thought unkindly of her. If he had never loved her, he had, at
+least, been tolerant. But now, clinging to her as the representative of
+fortune, happiness, social status, he felt that she was assuredly his
+best and dearest upon earth.
+
+"To think that you never really cared for me!" she whimpered; "that you
+married me for the sake of this house, and my income!"
+
+"Pamela, do you remember what Tom Jones said to his mistress when she
+pretended to doubt his love?"
+
+"My dear Conrad, I never read 'Tom Jones,' I have heard dear Edward
+talk of it as if it was something too dreadful."
+
+"Ah, I forgot. Of course, it is not a lady's book. Tom told his Sophia
+to look in the glass, if she were inclined to question his love for
+her, and one look at her own sweet face would convince her of his
+truth. Let it be so with yourself, dear. Ask yourself why I should not
+love the sweetest and most lovable of women."
+
+If sugarplums of speech, if loverlike attentions could have cured
+Pamela Winstanley's mortal sickness, she might yet have recovered. But
+the hour had gone by when such medicaments might have prevailed. While
+the Captain had shot, and hunted, and caught mighty salmon, and
+invested his odd hundreds, and taken his own pleasure in various ways,
+with almost all the freedom of bachelor life, his wife had, unawares,
+been slowly dying. The light had burned low in the socket; and who
+shall reillumine that brief candle when its day is over? It needed now
+but a breath to quench the feeble flame.
+
+"Great Heaven!" cried Captain Winstanley, pacing up and down his study,
+distraught with the pangs of wounded self-interest; "I have been taking
+care of her money, when I ought to have taken care of her. It is her
+life that all hangs upon: and I have let that slip through my fingers
+while I have planned and contrived to save a few beggarly hundreds.
+Short-sighted idiot that I have been! Poor Pamela! And she has been so
+yielding, so compliant to my every wish! A month--a week, perhaps--and
+she will be gone: and that handsome spitfire will have the right to
+thrust me from this house. No, my lady, I will not afford you that
+triumph. My wife's coffin and I will go out together."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+"All the Rivers run into the Sea."
+
+For some days Violet's return seemed to have a happy effect upon the
+invalid. Never had daughter been more devoted, more loving, fuller of
+sweet cares and consolations for a dying mother, than this daughter.
+Seeing the mother and child together in this supreme hour, no onlooker
+could have divined that these two had been ever less fondly united than
+mother and child should be. The feeble and fading woman seemed to lean
+on the strong bright girl, to gain a reflected strength from her
+fulness of life and vigour. It was as if Vixen, with her shining hair
+and fair young face, brought healthful breezes into the sickly perfumed
+atmosphere of the invalid's rooms.
+
+Roderick Vawdrey had a hard time of it during these days of sadness and
+suspense. He could not deny the right of his betrothed to devote all
+her time and thought to a dying mother; and yet, having but newly won
+her for his very own, after dreary years of constraint and severance,
+he longed for her society as lover never longed before; or at least he
+thought so. He hung about the Abbey House all day, heedless of the
+gloomy looks he got from Captain Winstanley, and of the heavy air of
+sadness that pervaded the house, and was infinitely content and happy
+when he was admitted to Mrs. Winstanley's boudoir to take an afternoon
+cup of tea, and talk for half-an-hour or so, in subdued tones, with
+mother and daughter.
+
+"I am very glad that things have happened as they have, Roderick," Mrs.
+Winstanley said languidly; "though I'm afraid it would make your poor
+mamma very unhappy if she could know about it. She had so set her heart
+on your marrying Lady Mabel."
+
+"Forgetting that it was really my heart which was concerned in the
+business," said Rorie. "Dear Mabel was wise enough to show us all the
+easiest way out of our difficulties. I sent her my mother's emerald
+cross and earrings, the day before yesterday, with as pretty a letter
+as I could write. I think it was almost poetical."
+
+"And those emeralds of Lady Jane Vawdrey's are very fine," remarked
+Mrs. Winstanley. "I don't think there is a feather in one of the
+stones."
+
+"It was almost like giving away your property, wasn't it, Vixen?" said
+Rorie, looking admiringly at his beloved. "But I have a lot of my
+mother's jewels for you, and I wanted to send Mabel something, to show
+her that I was not ungrateful."
+
+"You acted very properly, Rorie; and as to jewellery, you know very
+well I don't care a straw for it."
+
+"It is a comfort to me to know you will have Lady Jane's pearl
+necklace," murmured Mrs. Winstanley. "It will go so well with my
+diamond locket. Ah, Rorie, I wish I had been strong enough to see to
+Violet's _trousseau_. It is dreadful to think that it may have to be
+made by a provincial dressmaker, and with no one to supervise and
+direct."
+
+"Dearest mother, you are going to supervise everything," exclaimed
+Vixen. "I shall not think of being married till you are well and strong
+again."
+
+"That will be never," sighed the invalid.
+
+Upon this point she was very firm. They all tried--husband, daughter,
+and friends--to delude her with false hopes, thinking thus to fan the
+flame of life and keep the brief candle burning a little longer. She
+was not deceived. She felt herself gradually, painlessly sinking. She
+complained but little; much less than in the days when her ailments had
+been in some part fanciful; but she knew very surely that her day was
+done.
+
+"It is very sweet to have you with me, Violet," she said. "Your
+goodness, and Conrad's loving attentions, make me very happy. I feel
+almost as if I should like to live a few years longer."
+
+"Only almost, mother darling?" exclaimed Violet reproachfully.
+
+"I don't know, dear. I have such a weary feeling; as if life at the
+very best were not worth the trouble it cost us. I shouldn't mind going
+on living if I could always lie here, and take no trouble about
+anything, and be nursed and waited upon, and have you or Conrad always
+by my side--but to get well again, and to have to get up, and go about
+among other people, and take up all the cares of life--no dear, I am
+much too weary for that. And then if I could get well to-morrow, old
+age and death would still be staring me in the face. I could not escape
+them. No, love, it is much better to die now, before I am very old, or
+quite hideous; even before my hair is gray."
+
+She took up one of the soft auburn tresses from her pillow, and looked
+at it, half sadly.
+
+"Your dear papa used to admire my hair, Violet," she said. "There are a
+few gray hairs, but you would hardly notice them; but my hair is much
+thinner than it used to be, and I don't think I could ever have made up
+my mind to wear false hair. It never quite matches one's own. I have
+seen Lady Ellangowan wearing three distinct heads of hair; and yet
+gentlemen admire her."
+
+Mrs. Winstanley was always at her best during those afternoon
+tea-drinkings. The strong tea revived her; Roderick's friendly face and
+voice cheered her. They took her back to the remote past, to the kind
+Squire's day of glory, which she remembered as the happiest time of her
+life; even now, when her second husband was doing all things possible
+to prove his sincerity and devotion. She had never been completely
+happy in this second marriage. There had always been a flavour of
+remorse mingled with her cup of joy; the vague consciousness that she
+had done a foolish thing, and that the world--her little world within a
+radius of twenty miles--was secretly laughing at her.
+
+"Do you remember the day we came home from our honeymoon, Conrad," she
+said to her husband, as he sat by her in the dusk one evening, sad and
+silent, "when there was no carriage to meet us, and we had to come home
+in a fly? It was an omen, was it not?"
+
+"An omen of what, dearest?"
+
+"That all things were not to go well with us in our married life; that
+we were not to be quite happy."
+
+"Have you not been happy, Pamela? I have tried honestly to do my duty
+to you."
+
+"I know you have, Conrad. You have been all goodness; I always have
+said so to Violet--and to everyone. But I have had my cares. I felt
+that I was too old for you. That has preyed upon my mind."
+
+"Was that reasonable, Pamela, when I have never felt it?"
+
+"Perhaps not at first; and even if you had felt the disparity in our
+ages you would have been too generous to let me perceive the change in
+your feelings. But I should have grown an old woman while you were
+still a young man. It would have been too dreadful. Indeed, dear, it is
+better as it is. Providence is very good to me."
+
+"Providence is not very good to me, in taking you from me," said the
+Captain, with a touch of bitterness.
+
+It seemed to him passing selfish in his wife to be so resigned to
+leaving life, and so oblivious of the fact that her income died with
+her, and that he was to be left out in the cold. One evening, however,
+when they were sitting alone together, this fact presented itself
+suddenly to her mind.
+
+"You will lose the Abbey House when I am gone, Conrad."
+
+"My love, do you think I could live in this house without you?"
+
+"And my income, Conrad; that dies with me, does it not?"
+
+"Yes, love."
+
+"That is hard for you."
+
+"I can bear that, Pamela, if I am to bear the loss of you."
+
+"Dearest love, you have always been disinterested. How could I ever
+doubt you? Perhaps--indeed I am sure--if I were to ask Violet, she
+would give you the fifteen hundred a year that I was to have had after
+she came of age."
+
+"Pamela, I could not accept any favour from your daughter. You would
+deeply offend me if you were to suggest such a thing."
+
+This was true. Much as he valued money, he would have rather starved
+than taken sixpence from the girl who had scorned him; the girl whose
+very presence gave rise to a terrible conflict in his
+breast--passionate love, bitterest antagonism.
+
+"There are the few things that I possess myself--jewels, books,
+furniture--special gifts of dear Edward's. Those are my own, to dispose
+of as I like. I might make a will leaving them to you, Conrad. They are
+trifles, but----"
+
+"They will be precious _souvenirs_ of our wedded life," murmured the
+Captain, who was very much of Mr. Wemmick's opinion, that portable
+property of any kind was worth having.
+
+A will was drawn up and executed next day, in which Mrs. Winstanley
+left her diamonds to her daughter, her wardrobe to the faithful and
+long-suffering Pauline--otherwise Mary Smith--and all the rest of her
+belongings to her dearly-beloved husband, Conrad Winstanley. The
+Captain was a sufficient man of business to take care that this will
+was properly executed.
+
+In all this time his daily intercourse with Violet was a source of
+exceeding bitterness. She was civil, and even friendly in her manner to
+him--for her mother's sake. And then, in the completeness of her union
+with Rorie, she could afford to be generous and forgiving. The old
+spirit of antagonism died out: her foe was so utterly fallen. A few
+weeks and the old home would be her own--the old servants would come
+back, the old pensioners might gather again around the kitchen-door.
+All could be once more as it had been in her father's lifetime; and no
+trace of Conrad Winstanley's existence would be left; for, alas! it was
+now an acknowledged fact that Violet's mother was dying. The most
+sanguine among her friends had ceased to hope. She herself was utterly
+resigned. She spent some part of each day in gentle religious exercises
+with kindly Mr. Scobel. Her last hours were as calm and reasonable as
+those of Socrates.
+
+So Captain Winstanley had to sit quietly by, and see Violet and her
+lover grouped by his fading wife's sofa, and school himself, as he best
+might, to endure the spectacle of their perfect happiness in each
+other's love, and to know that he--who had planned his future days so
+wisely, and provided, like the industrious ant, for the winter of his
+life--had broken down in his scheme of existence, after all, and had no
+more part in this house which he had deemed his own than a traveller at
+an inn.
+
+It was hard, and he sat beside his dying wife, with anger and envy
+gnawing his heart--anger against fate, envy of Roderick Vawdrey, who
+had won the prize. If evil wishes could have killed, neither Violet nor
+her lover would have outlived that summer. Happily the Captain was too
+cautious a man to be guilty of any overt act of rage or hatred. His
+rancorous feelings were decently hidden under a gentlemanly iciness of
+manner, to which no one could take objection.
+
+The fatal hour came unawares, one calm September afternoon, about six
+weeks after Violet's return from Jersey. Captain Winstanley had been
+reading one of Tennyson's idyls to his wife, till she sank into a
+gentle slumber. He left her, with Pauline seated at work by one of the
+windows, and went to his study to write some letters. Five o'clock was
+the established hour for kettledrum, but of late the invalid had been
+unable to bear even the mild excitement of two or three visitors at
+this time. Violet now attended alone to her mother's afternoon tea,
+kneeling by her side as she sipped the refreshing infusion, and coaxing
+her to eat a waferlike slice of bread-and-butter, or a few morsels of
+sponge-cake.
+
+This afternoon, when Violet went softly into the room, carrying the
+little Japanese tray and tiny teapot, she found her mother lying just
+as the Captain had left her an hour before.
+
+"She's been sleeping so sweetly, miss," whispered Pauline. "I never
+knew her sleep so quiet since she's been ill."
+
+That stillness which seemed so good a thing to the handmaid frightened
+the daughter. Violet set her tray down hastily on the nearest table,
+and ran to her mother's sofa. She looked at the pale and sunken cheek,
+just visible in the downy hollow of the pillows; she touched the hand
+lying on the silken coverlet. That marble coldness, that waxen hue of
+the cheek, told her the awful truth. She fell on her knees beside the
+sofa, with a cry of sharp and sudden sorrow.
+
+"Oh mother, mother! I ought to have loved you better all my life!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+The Bluebeard Chamber.
+
+The day before the funeral Captain Winstanley received a letter from
+his stepdaughter, offering to execute any deed he might choose to have
+prepared, settling upon him the income which his wife was to have had
+after Violet's majority.
+
+
+"I know that you are a heavy loser by my mother's death," she wrote,
+"and I shall be glad to do anything in my power to lessen that loss. I
+know well that it was her earnest wish that your future should be
+provided for. I told her a few days before she died that I should make
+you this offer. I do it with all my heart; and I shall consider myself
+obliged by your acceptance of it."
+
+
+The Captain's reply was brief and firm.
+
+
+"I thank you for your generous offer," he said, "which I feel assured
+is made in good faith; but I think you ought to know that there are
+reasons why it is impossible I should accept any benefit from your
+hand. I shall not re-enter the Abbey House after my wife's funeral. You
+will be sole and sovereign mistress of all things from that hour."
+
+
+He kept his word. He was chief mourner at the quiet but stately burial
+under the old yew-tree in Beechdale churchyard. When all was over he
+got into a fly, and drove to the station at Lyndhurst Road, whence he
+departed by the first train for London. He told no one anything about
+his plans for the future; he left no address but his club. He was next
+heard of six months later, in South America.
+
+Violet had telegraphed to her old governess directly after Mrs.
+Winstanley's death; and that good and homely person arrived on the day
+after the funeral, to take up her abode with her old pupil, as
+companion and chaperon, until Miss Tempest should have become Mrs.
+Vawdrey, and would have but one companion henceforward in all the
+journey of life. Rorie and Vixen were to be married in six months. Mrs.
+Winstanley had made them promise that her death should delay their
+marriage as little as possible.
+
+"You can have a very quiet wedding, you know, dear," she said. "You can
+be married in your travelling-dress--something pretty in gray silk and
+terry velvet, or with chinchilla trimming, if it should be winter.
+Chinchilla is so distinguished-looking. You will go abroad, I suppose,
+for your honeymoon. Pau, or Monaco, or any of those places on the
+Mediterranean."
+
+It had pleased her to settle everything for the lovers. Violet
+remembered all these speeches with a tender sorrow. There was comfort
+in the thought that her mother had loved her, according to her lights.
+
+It had been finally settled between the lovers that they were to live
+at the Abbey House. Briarwood was to be let to any wealthy individual
+who might desire a handsome house, surrounded by exquisitely arranged
+gardens, and burdened with glass that would cost a small fortune
+annually to maintain. Before Mr. Vawdrey could put his property into
+the hands of the auctioneers, he received a private offer which was in
+every respect satisfactory.
+
+Lady Mallow wished to spend some part of every year near her father and
+mother, who lived a good deal at Ashbourne, the Duke becoming yearly
+more devoted to his Chillingham oxen and monster turnips. Lord Mallow,
+who loved his native isle to distraction, but always found six weeks in
+a year a sufficient period of residence there, was delighted to please
+his bride, and agreed to take Briarwood, furnished, on a seven-years'
+lease. The orchid-houses were an irresistible attraction, and by this
+friendly arrangement Lady Mallow would profit by the alterations and
+improvements her cousin had made for her gratification, when he
+believed she was to be his wife.
+
+Briarwood thus disposed of, Rorie was free to consider the Abbey House
+his future home; and Violet had the happiness of knowing that the good
+old house in which her childhood had been spent would be her habitation
+always, till she too was carried to the family vault under the old
+yew-tree. There are people who languish for change, for whom the newest
+is ever the best; but it was not thus with Violet Tempest. The people
+she had known all her life, the scenes amidst which she had played when
+a child, were to her the dearest people and the loveliest scenes upon
+earth. It would be pleasant to her to travel with her husband, and see
+fair lands across the sea: but pleasanter still would be the
+home-coming to the familiar hearth beside which her father had sat, the
+old faces that had looked upon him, the hands that had served him, the
+gardens he had planted and improved.
+
+"I should like to show you Briarwood before it is let, Vixen," Mr.
+Vawdrey said to his sweetheart, one November morning. "You may at least
+pay my poor patrimony the compliment of looking at it before it becomes
+the property of Lord and Lady Mallow. Suppose you and Miss McCroke
+drive over and drink tea with me this afternoon? I believe my
+housekeeper brews pretty good tea."
+
+"Very well, Rorie, we'll come to tea. I should rather like to see the
+improvements you made for Lady Mabel, before your misfortune. I think
+Lord Mallow must consider it very good of you to let him have the
+benefit of all the money you spent, instead of bringing an action for
+breach of promise against his wife, as you might very well have done."
+
+"I daresay. But you see I am of a forgiving temper. Well, I shall tell
+my housekeeper to have tea and buns, and jam, and all the things
+children--and young ladies--like, at four o'clock. We had better make
+it four instead of five, as the afternoons are so short."
+
+"If you are impertinent we won't come."
+
+"Oh yes you will. Curiosity will bring you. Remember this will be your
+last chance of seeing the Bluebeard chamber at Briarwood."
+
+"Is there a Bluebeard chamber?"
+
+"Of course. Did you ever know of a family mansion without one?"
+
+Vixen was delighted at the idea of exploring her lover's domain, now
+that he and it were her own property. How well she remembered going
+with her father to the meet on Briarwood lawn. Yet it seemed a century
+ago--the very beginning of her life--before she had known sorrow.
+
+Miss McCroke, who was ready to do anything her pupil desired, was
+really pleased at the idea of seeing the interior of Briarwood.
+
+"I have never been inside the doors, you know, dear," she said, "often
+as I have driven past the gates with your dear mamma. Lady Jane Vawdrey
+was not the kind of person to invite a governess to go and see her. She
+was a strict observer of the laws of caste. The Duchess has much less
+pride."
+
+"I don't think Lady Jane ever quite forgave herself for marrying a
+commoner," said Vixen. "She revenged her own weakness upon other
+people."
+
+Violet had a new pair of ponies, which her lover had chosen for her,
+after vain endeavours to trace and recover the long-lost Titmouse.
+These she drove to Briarwood, Miss McCroke resigning herself to the
+will of Providence with a blind submission worthy of a Moslem; feeling
+that if it were written that she was to be flung head foremost out of a
+pony-carriage, the thing would happen sooner or later. Staying at home
+to-day would not ward off to-morrow's doom. So she took her place in
+the cushioned valley by Violet's side, and sat calm and still, while
+the ponies, warranted quiet to drive in single or double harness, stood
+up on end and made as if they had a fixed intention of scaling the
+rhododendron bank.
+
+"They'll settle down directly I've taken the freshness out of them,"
+said Vixen, blandly, as she administered a reproachful touch of the
+whip.
+
+"I hope they will," replied Miss McCroke; "but don't you think Bates
+ought to have seen the freshness taken out of them before we started?"
+
+They were soon tearing along the smooth Roman road at a splendid pace,
+"the ponies going like clockwork," as Vixen remarked approvingly; but
+poor Miss McCroke thought that any clock which went as fast as those
+ponies would be deemed the maddest of timekeepers.
+
+They found Roderick standing at his gates, waiting for them. There was
+a glorious fire in the amber and white drawing-room, a dainty tea table
+drawn in front of the hearth, the easiest of chairs arranged on each
+side of the table, an urn hissing, Rorie's favourite pointer stretched
+upon the hearth, everything cosy and homelike. Briarwood was not such a
+bad place after all, Vixen thought. She could have contrived to be
+happy with Roderick even here; but of course the Abbey House was, in
+her mind, a hundred times better, being just the one perfect home in
+the world.
+
+They all three sat round the fire, drinking tea, poured out by Vixen,
+who played the mistress of the house sweetly. They talked of old times,
+sometimes sadly, sometimes sportively, glancing swiftly from one old
+memory to another. All Rorie's tiresome ways, all Vixen's mischievous
+tricks, were remembered.
+
+"I think I led you a life in those days, didn't I, Rorie?" asked Vixen,
+leaving the teatray, and stealing softly behind her lover's chair to
+lean over his shoulder caressingly, and pull his thick brown beard.
+"There is nothing so delightful as to torment the person one loves best
+in the world. Oh, Rorie, I mean to lead you a life by-and-by!"
+
+"Dearest, the life you lead me must needs be sweet, for it will be
+spent with you."
+
+After tea they set out upon a round of inspection, and admired the new
+morning-room that had been devised for Lady Mabel, in the very latest
+style of Dutch Renaissance--walls the colour of muddy water, glorified
+ginger-jars, ebonised chairs and tables, and willow-pattern plates all
+round the cornice; curtains mud-colour, with a mediaeval design in
+dirty yellow, or, in upholsterer's language, "old gold."
+
+"I should like to show you the stables before it is quite dark," said
+Rorie presently. "I made a few slight improvements there while the
+builders were about."
+
+"You know I have a weakness for stables," answered Vixen. "How many a
+lecture I used to get from poor mamma about my unfortunate tastes. But
+can there be anything in the world nicer than a good old-fashioned
+stable, smelling of clover and newly-cut hay?"
+
+"Stables are very nice indeed, and very useful, in their proper place,"
+remarked Miss McCroke sententiously.
+
+"But one ought not to bring the stables into the drawing-room," said
+Vixen gravely. "Come, Rorie, let us see your latest improvements in
+stable-gear."
+
+They all went out to the stone-paved quadrangle, which was as neatly
+kept as a West-End livery-yard. Miss McCroke had an ever-present dread
+of the ubiquitous hind-legs of strange horses: but she followed her
+charge into the stable, with the same heroic fidelity with which she
+would have followed her to the scaffold or the stake.
+
+There were all Rorie's old favourites--Starlight Bess, with her shining
+brown coat, and one white stocking; Blue Peter, broad-chested,
+well-ribbed, and strong of limb; Pixie, the gray Arab mare, which Lady
+Jane used to drive in a park-phaeton--quite an ancient lady; Donald,
+the iron-sinewed hunter.
+
+Vixen knew them all, and went up to them and patted their graceful
+heads, and made herself at home with them.
+
+"You are all coming to the Abbey House to live, you dear things," she
+said delightedly.
+
+There was a loose-box, shut off by a five-foot wainscot partition,
+surmounted by a waved iron rail, at one end of the stable, and on
+approaching this enclosure Vixen was saluted with sundry grunts and
+snorting noises, which seemed curiously familiar.
+
+At the sound of these she stopped short, turning red, and then pale,
+and looked intently at Rorie, who was standing close by, smiling at her.
+
+"That is my Bluebeard chamber," he said gaily. "There's something too
+awful inside."
+
+"What horse have you got there?" cried Vixen eagerly.
+
+"A horse that I think will carry you nicely, when we hunt together."
+
+"What horse? Have I ever seen him? Do I know him?"
+
+The grunts and snortings were continued with a crescendo movement; an
+eager nose was rattling the latch of the door that shut off the
+loose-box.
+
+"If you have a good memory for old friends, I think you will know this
+one," said Rorie, withdrawing a bolt.
+
+A head pushed open the door, and in another moment Vixen's arms were
+round her old favourite's sleek neck, and the velvet nostrils were
+sniffing her hair and cheek, in most loving recognition.
+
+"You dear, dear old fellow!" cried Vixen; and then turning to Rorie:
+"You told me he was sold at Tattersall's!" she exclaimed.
+
+"So he was, and I bought him."
+
+"Why did you not tell me that?"
+
+"Because you did not ask me."
+
+"I thought you so unkind, so indifferent about him."
+
+"You were unkind when you could think it possible I should let your
+favourite horse fall into strange hands. But perhaps you would rather
+Lord Mallow had bought him?"
+
+"To think that you should have kept the secret all this time!" said
+Vixen.
+
+"You see I am not a woman, and can keep a secret. I wanted to have one
+little surprise for you, as a reward when you had been especially good.
+
+"You are good," she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him. "And though I
+have loved you all my life, I don't think I have loved you the least
+little bit too much."
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE.
+
+Vixen and Rorie were married in the spring, when the forest glades were
+yellow with primroses, the mossy banks blue with violets, and the
+cuckoo was heard with monotonous iteration from sunrise to sundown.
+They were married in the little village church at Beechdale, and Mrs.
+Scobel declared that Miss Tempest's wedding was the prettiest that ever
+had been solemnised in that small Gothic temple. Never, perhaps, even
+at Eastertide, had been seen such a wealth of spring blossoms, the
+wildlings of the woods and hills. The Duchess had offered the contents
+of her hot-houses, Lady Ellangowan had offered waggon-loads of azaleas
+and camellias, but Vixen had refused them all. She would allow no
+decorations but the wild flowers which the school-children could
+gather. Primroses, violets, bluebells, the firstlings of the fern
+tribe, cowslips, and all the tribe of innocent forest blossoms, with
+their quaint rustic names, most of them as old as Shakespeare.
+
+It was a very quiet wedding. Vixen would have no one present except the
+Scobels, Miss McCroke, her two bridesmaids, and Sir Henry Tolmash, an
+old friend of her father, who was to give her away. He was a
+white-haired old man, who had given his latter days up to farming, and
+had not a thought above turnips and top-dressing; but Violet honoured
+him, because he had been her father's oldest friend. For bride-maids
+she had Colonel Carteret's daughters, a brace of harmless young ladies,
+whose conversation was as stereotyped as a French and English
+vocabulary, but who dressed well and looked pretty.
+
+There was no display of wedding gifts, no ceremonious wedding
+breakfast. Vixen remembered the wedding feast at her mother's second
+marriage, and what a dreary ceremonial it had been.
+
+The bride wore her gray silk travelling-dress, with gray hat and
+feather, and she and her husband went straight from the church to the
+railway station, on their way to untrodden paths in the Engadine,
+whence they were to return at no appointed time.
+
+"We are coming back when we are tired of mountain scenery and of each
+other," Violet told Mrs. Scobel in the church porch.
+
+"That will be never!" exclaimed Rorie, looking ineffably happy, but not
+very much like a bride-groom, in his comfortable gray suit. "You might
+just as well say that we are going to live among the mountains as long
+as Rip Van Winkle. No, Mrs. Scobel, we are not going to remain away
+from you fifty years. We are coming back in time for the hunting."
+
+Then came kissing and handshaking, a shower of violets and primroses
+upon the narrow churchyard path, a hearty huzza from the assembled
+village, all clustered about the oaken gate-posts. The envious
+carriage-door shut in bride and bride-groom, the coachman touched his
+horses, and they were gone up the hill, out of the peaceful valley, to
+Lyndhurst and the railway.
+
+"How dreadfully I shall miss them," said Mrs. Scobel, who had spent
+much of her leisure with the lovers. "They are both so full of life and
+brightness!"
+
+"They are young and happy!" said her husband quietly. "Who would not
+miss youth and happiness?"
+
+
+When the first frosts had seared the beeches to a fiery red, and the
+berries were bright on the hawthorns, and the latest bloom of the
+heather had faded on hill and plain, and the happy pigs had devoured
+all the beech-nuts, Mr. Vawdrey and his wife came back from their
+exploration of Alpine snows and peaceful Swiss villages, to the good
+old Abbey House. Their six months' honeymoon had been all gladness.
+They were the veriest boy and girl husband and wife who had ever
+trodden those beaten tracks. They teased each other, and quarrelled,
+and made friends again like children, and were altogether happy. And
+now they came back to the Forest, bronzed by many a long day's
+sunshine, and glowing with health and high spirits. The glass of Time
+seemed to be turned backwards at the Abbey House; for all the old
+servants came back, and white-haired old Bates ruled in the well-filled
+stables, and all things were as in the dead and gone Squire's time.
+
+Among Roderick's wedding gifts was one from Lord Mallow: Bullfinch, the
+best horse in that nobleman's stable.
+
+
+"I know your wife would like you to have her father's favourite
+hunter," wrote Lord Mallow. "Tell her that he has never been sick or
+sorry since he has been in my stable, and that I have always taken
+particular care of him, for her sake."
+
+
+Among Violet's presents was a diamond bracelet from Lady Mallow,
+accompanied by a very cordial letter; and almost the first visit that
+the Vawdreys received after they came home was from Lord and Lady
+Mallow. The first great dinner to which they were bidden was at
+Briarwood, where it seemed a curious thing for Rorie to go as a guest.
+
+Matrimony with the man of her choice had wondrously improved Mabel
+Ashbourne. She was less self-sufficient and more conciliating. Her
+ambition, hitherto confined to the desire to excel all other women in
+her own person, had assumed a less selfish form. She was now only
+ambitious for her husband; greedy of parliamentary fame for him; full
+of large hopes about the future of Ireland. She looked forward
+complacently to the day when she and Lord Mallow would be reigning at
+Dublin Castle, and when Hibernian arts and industries would revive and
+flourish under her fostering care. Pending that happy state of things
+she wore Irish poplin, and Irish lace, Irish stockings, and Irish
+linen. She attended Her Majesty's Drawing-room on St. Patrick's Day,
+with a sprig of real shamrock--sent her by one of her husband's
+tenantry--among the diamonds that sparkled on her bosom. She was more
+intensely Irish than the children of the soil; just as converts to
+Romanism are ever more severely Roman than those born and nurtured in
+the faith.
+
+Her husband was intensely proud of his wife, and of his alliance with
+the house of Ashbourne. The Duke, at first inclined to resent the
+scandal of an elopement and the slight offered to his favourite, Rorie,
+speedily reconciled himself to a marriage which was more materially
+advantageous than the cousinly alliance.
+
+"I should like Rorie to have had Ashbourne," he said mournfully. "I
+think he would have kept up my breed of Chillingham cattle. Mallow's a
+good fellow, but he knows nothing about farming. He'll never spend
+enough money on manure to maintain the soil at its present producing
+power. The grasp of his mind isn't large enough to allow him to sink
+his money in manuring his land. He would be wanting to see an immediate
+result."
+
+As time went on the Duke became more and more devoted to his farm. His
+Scottish castle delighted him not, nor the grand old place in the
+Midlands. Ashbourne, which was the pleasure-dome he had built for
+himself, contained all he cared about. Too heavy and too lazy to hunt,
+he was able to jog about his farm, and supervise the work that was
+going on, to the smallest detail. There was not a foot of drain-pipe or
+a bit of thatch renewed on the whole estate, without the Duke having a
+finger in the pie. He bred fat oxen and prize cart-horses, and made a
+great figure at all the cattle-shows, and was happy. The Duchess, who
+had never believed her paragon capable of wrong-doing, had been
+infinitely shocked by Lady Mabel's desperate course; but it was not in
+her nature to be angry with that idolised daughter. She very soon came
+back to her original idea, that whatever Mabel Ashbourne did was right.
+And then the marriage was so thoroughly happy; and the world gladly
+forgives a scandal that ends so pleasantly.
+
+So Lord and Lady Mallow go their way--honoured, beloved, very active in
+good works--and the pleasant valleys around Mallow are dotted with red
+brick school-houses, and the old stone hovels are giving place to model
+cottages, and native industries receive all possible encouragement from
+the owner of the soil; and, afar off, in the coming years, the glories
+of Dublin Castle shine like the Pole Star that guides the wanderer on
+his way.
+
+In one thing only has Lady Mallow been false to the promise of her
+girlhood. She has not achieved success as a poet. The Duchess wonders
+vaguely at this, for though she had often found it difficult to keep
+awake during the rehearsal of her daughter's verses, she had a fixed
+belief in the excellence of those efforts of genius. The secret of Lady
+Mallow's silence rests between her husband and herself; and it is just
+possible that some too candid avowal of Lord Mallow's may be the reason
+of her poetic sterility. It is one thing to call the lady of one's
+choice a tenth muse before marriage, and another thing to foster a
+self-delusion in one's wife which can hardly fail to become a
+discordant element in domestic life. "If your genius had developed, and
+you had won popularity as a poet, I should have lost a perfect wife,"
+Lord Mallow told Mabel, when he wanted to put things pleasantly.
+"Literature has lost a star; but I have gained the noblest and sweetest
+companion Providence ever bestowed upon man." Lady Mallow has not
+degenerated into feminine humdrum. She assists in the composition of
+her husband's political pamphlets, which bristle with lines from
+Euripides, and noble thoughts from the German poets. She writes a good
+many of his letters, and is altogether his second self.
+
+While the Irishman and his wife pursue their distinguished career,
+Rorie and Vixen live the life they love, in the Forest where they were
+born, dispensing happiness within a narrow circle, but dearly loved
+wheresoever they are known; and the old men and women in the scattered
+villages round about the Abbey House rejoice in the good old times that
+have come again; just as hearty pleasure-loving England was glad when
+the stern rule of the Protector and his crop-headed saints gave place
+to the reign of the Merry King.
+
+From afar there comes news of Captain Winstanley, who has married a
+Jewish lady at Frankfort, only daughter and heiress of a well-known
+money-lender. The bride is reported ugly and illiterate; but there is
+no doubt as to her fortune. The Captain has bought a villa at Monaco--a
+villa in the midst of orange-groves, the abandoned plaything of an
+Austrian princess; and he has hired an apartment in one of the new
+avenues, just outside the Arc de Triomphe, where, as his friends
+anticipate, he will live in grand style, and receive the pleasantest
+people in Paris. He, too, is happy after his kind, and has won the
+twenty-thousand-pound prize in the lottery of life; but it is
+altogether a different kind of happiness from the simple and unalloyed
+delight of Rorie and Vixen, in their home among the beechen woods whose
+foliage sheltered them when they were children.
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER.
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note: Typographical errors silently corrected:
+
+volume 3 chapter 1: =an instant's delay?= replaced by
+                    =an instant's delay,=
+
+chapter 1: =latest fashion?= replaced by =latest fashion.=
+
+chapter 3: =like the Squires= replaced by =like the Squire's=
+
+epilogue: =young and happy!= replaced by =young and happy!"=
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Vixen, Volume III., by M. E. Braddon
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIXEN, VOLUME III. ***
+
+***** This file should be named 26238.txt or 26238.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/2/3/26238/
+
+Produced by Daniel Fromont.  HTML version by Al Haines.
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/26238.zip b/26238.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e831a73
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26238.zip
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..169a84e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #26238 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/26238)
author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 02:21:51 -0700
committer	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 02:21:51 -0700
commit	1bbb066e05f3ab8ffc61fbdb89c7de2fa46d8cba (patch)
tree	a385fe38e1b3cbb4156267b2f28ca57f0f398c86