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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Explorer, by W. Somerset Maugham
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Explorer
+
+Author: W. Somerset Maugham
+
+Release Date: November 9, 2008 [EBook #27198]
+[This file last updated: February 21, 2011]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EXPLORER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE EXPLORER
+
+BY
+
+W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM
+
+AUTHOR OF "THE MOON AND SIXPENCE,"
+"OF HUMAN BONDAGE," ETC., ETC.
+
+NEW YORK
+
+GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY
+
+WILLIAM HEINEMANN
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY
+
+THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY
+
+PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+
+
+TO
+
+MY DEAR MRS. G. W. STEEVENS
+
+
+
+
+
+THE EXPLORER
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+The sea was very calm. There was no ship in sight, and the sea-gulls
+were motionless upon its even greyness. The sky was dark with lowering
+clouds, but there was no wind. The line of the horizon was clear and
+delicate. The shingly beach, no less deserted, was thick with tangled
+seaweed, and the innumerable shells crumbled under the feet that trod
+them. The breakwaters, which sought to prevent the unceasing
+encroachment of the waves, were rotten with age and green with the
+sea-slime. It was a desolate scene, but there was a restfulness in its
+melancholy; and the great silence, the suave monotony of colour, might
+have given peace to a heart that was troubled. They could not assuage
+the torment of the woman who stood alone upon that spot. She did not
+stir; and, though her gaze was steadfast, she saw nothing. Nature has
+neither love nor hate, and with indifference smiles upon the light at
+heart and to the heavy brings a deeper sorrow. It is a great irony that
+the old Greek, so wise and prudent, who fancied that the gods lived
+utterly apart from human passions, divinely unconscious in their high
+palaces of the grief and joy, the hope and despair, of the turbulent
+crowd of men, should have gone down to posterity as the apostle of
+brutish pleasure.
+
+But the silent woman did not look for solace. She had a vehement pride
+which caused her to seek comfort only in her own heart; and when,
+against her will, heavy tears rolled down her cheeks, she shook her head
+impatiently. She drew a long breath and set herself resolutely to change
+her thoughts.
+
+But they were too compelling, and she could not drive from her mind the
+memories that absorbed it. Her fancy, like a homing bird, hovered with
+light wings about another coast; and the sea she looked upon reminded
+her of another sea. The Solent. From her earliest years that sheet of
+water had seemed an essential part of her life, and the calmness at her
+feet brought back to her irresistibly the scenes she knew so well. But
+the rippling waves washed the shores of Hampshire with a persuasive
+charm that they had not elsewhere, and the broad expanse of it, lacking
+the illimitable majesty of the open sea, could be loved like a familiar
+thing. Yet there was in it, too, something of the salt freshness of the
+ocean, and, as the eye followed its course, the heart could exult with a
+sense of freedom. Sometimes, in the dusk of a winter afternoon, she
+remembered the Solent as desolate as the Kentish sea before her; but her
+imagination presented it to her more often with the ships, outward bound
+or homeward bound, that passed continually. She loved them all. She
+loved the great liners that sped across the ocean, unmindful of wind or
+weather, with their freight of passengers; and at night, when she
+recognised them only by the long row of lights, they fascinated her by
+the mystery of their thousand souls going out strangely into the
+unknown. She loved the little panting ferries that carried the good
+folk of the neighbourhood across the water to buy their goods in
+Southampton, or to sell the produce of their farms; she was intimate
+with their sturdy skippers, and she delighted in their airs of
+self-importance. She loved the fishing boats that went out in all
+weathers, and the neat yachts that fled across the bay with such a
+dainty grace. She loved the great barques and the brigantines that came
+in with a majestic ease, all their sails set to catch the remainder of
+the breeze; they were like wonderful, stately birds, and her soul
+rejoiced at the sight of them. But best of all she loved the tramps that
+plodded with a faithful, grim tenacity from port to port; often they
+were squat and ugly, battered by the tempest, dingy and ill-painted; but
+her heart went out to them. They touched her because their fate seemed
+so inglorious. No skipper, new to his craft, could ever admire the
+beauty of their lines, nor look up at the swelling canvas and exult he
+knew not why; no passengers would boast of their speed or praise their
+elegance. They were honest merchantmen, laborious, trustworthy, and of
+good courage, who took foul weather and peril in the day's journey and
+made no outcry. And with a sure instinct she saw the romance in the
+humble course of their existence and the beauty of an unboasting
+performance of their duty; and often, as she watched them, her fancy
+glowed with the thought of the varied merchandise they carried, and
+their long sojourning in foreign parts. There was a subtle charm in them
+because they went to Southern seas and white cities with tortuous
+streets, silent under the blue sky.
+
+Striving still to free herself of a passionate regret, the lonely woman
+turned away and took a path that led across the marshes. But her heart
+sank, for she seemed to recognise the flats, the shallow dykes, the
+coastguard station, which she had known all her life. Sheep were grazing
+here and there, and two horses, put out to grass, looked at her
+listlessly as she passed. A cow heavily whisked its tail. To the
+indifferent, that line of Kentish coast, so level and monotonous, might
+be merely dull, but to her it was beautiful. It reminded her of the home
+she would never see again.
+
+And then her thoughts, which had wandered around the house in which she
+was born, ever touching the fringe as it were, but never quite settling
+with the full surrender of attention, gave themselves over to it
+entirely.
+
+* * *
+
+Hamlyn's Purlieu had belonged to the Allertons for three hundred years,
+and the recumbent effigy, in stone, of the founder of the family's
+fortunes, with his two wives in ruffs and stiff martingales, was to be
+seen in the chancel of the parish church. It was the work of an Italian
+sculptor, lured to England in company of the craftsmen who made the
+lady-chapel of Westminster Abbey; and the renaissance delicacy of its
+work was very grateful in the homely English church. And for three
+hundred years the Allertons had been men of prudence, courage, and
+worth, so that the walls of the church by now were filled with the lists
+of their virtues and their achievements. They had intermarried with the
+great families of the neighbourhood, and with the help of these marble
+tablets you might have made out a roll of all that was distinguished in
+Hampshire. The Maddens of Brise, the Fletchers of Horton Park, the
+Daunceys of Maiden Hall, the Garrods of Penda, had all, in the course of
+time, given daughters to the Allertons of Hamlyn's Purlieu; and the
+Allertons of Hamlyn's Purlieu had given in exchange richly dowered
+maidens to the Garrods of Penda, the Daunceys of Maiden Hall, the
+Fletchers of Horton Park, and the Maddens of Brise.
+
+And with each generation the Allertons grew prouder. The peculiar
+situation of their lands distinguished them a little from their
+neighbours; for, whereas the Garrods, the Daunceys, and the Fletchers
+lived within walking distance of each other, and Madden of Brise,
+because of his rank and opulence the most distinguished person in the
+county, within six or seven miles, Hamlyn's Purlieu was near the sea and
+separated by forest land from other places. The seclusion in which its
+owners were thus forced to dwell differentiated their characters from
+those of the neighbouring gentlemen. They found much cause for
+self-esteem in the number of their acres, and, though many of these
+consisted of salt marshes, and more of wild heath, others were as good
+as any in Hampshire; and the grand total made a formidable array in
+works of reference. But they found greater reason still for
+self-congratulation in their culture. No pride is so great as the pride
+of intellect, and the Allertons never doubted that their neighbours were
+boors beside them. Whether it was due to the peculiar lie of the land on
+which they were born and bred, that led them to introspection, or
+whether it was due to some accident of inheritance, the Allertons had
+all an interest in the things of the mind, which had never troubled the
+Fletchers or the Garrods of Penda, the Daunceys or my lords Madden of
+Brise. They were as good sportsmen as the others, and hunted or shot
+with the best of them, but they read books as well, and had a subtlety
+of intelligence which was no less unexpected than pleasing. The fat
+squires of the county looked up to them as miracles of learning, and
+congratulated themselves over their port on possessing in their midst
+persons who combined, in such excellent proportions, gentle birth and a
+good seat in the saddle with adequate means and an encyclopedic
+knowledge. Everything conspired to give the Allertons a good opinion of
+themselves. They not only looked down from superior heights on the
+persons with whom they habitually came in contact--that is common
+enough--but these very persons without question looked up to them.
+
+The Allertons made the grand tour in a style befitting their dignity;
+and the letters which each son of the house wrote in turn, describing
+Paris, Vienna, Dresden, Munich, and Rome, with the persons of
+consequence who entertained him, were preserved with scrupulous care
+among the family papers. They testified to an agreeable interest in the
+arts; and each of them had made a point of bringing back with him,
+according to the fashion of his day, beautiful things which he had
+purchased on his journey. Hamlyn's Purlieu, a fine stone house goodly to
+look upon, was thus filled with Italian pictures, French cabinets of
+delicate workmanship, bronzes of all kinds, tapestries, and old Eastern
+carpets. The gardens had been tended with a loving care, and there grew
+in them trees and flowers which were unknown to other parts of England.
+Each Allerton in his time cherished the place with a passionate pride,
+looking upon it as his greatest privilege that he could add a little to
+its beauty and hand on to his successor a more magnificent heritage.
+
+* * *
+
+But at length Hamlyn's Purlieu came into the hands of Fred Allerton; and
+the gods, blind for so long to the prosperity of this house, determined
+now, it seemed, to wreak their malice. Fred Allerton had many of the
+characteristics of his race, but in him they took a sudden turn which
+bore him swiftly to destruction. They had been marked always by good
+looks, a persuasive manner, and a singular liberality of mind; and he
+was perhaps the handsomest, and certainly the most charming of them all.
+But the freedom from prejudice which had prevented the others from
+giving way too much to their pride had in him degenerated into a
+singular unscrupulousness. His parents died when he was twenty, and a
+year later he found himself master of a great estate. The times were
+hard then for those who depended upon their land, and Fred Allerton was
+not so rich as his forebears. But he flung himself extravagantly into
+the pursuit of pleasure. He was the only member of his family who had
+failed to reside habitually at Hamlyn's Purlieu. He seemed to take no
+interest in it, and except now and then to shoot, never came near his
+native county. He lived much in Paris, which in the early years of the
+third republic had still something of the wanton gaiety of the Empire;
+and here he soon grew notorious for his prodigality and his adventures.
+He was an unlucky man, and everything he did led to disaster. But this
+never impaired his cheerfulness. He boasted that he had lost money in
+every gambling hell in Europe, and vowed that he would give up racing in
+disgust if ever a horse of his won a race. His charm of manner was
+irresistible, and no one had more friends than he. His generosity was
+great, and he was willing to lend money to everyone who asked. But it is
+even more expensive to be a man whom everyone likes than to keep a stud,
+and Fred Allerton found himself in due course much in need of ready
+money. He did not hesitate to mortgage his lands, and till he came to
+the end of these resources also, continued gaily to lead a life of
+splendour.
+
+At length he had raised on Hamlyn's Purlieu every penny that he could,
+and was crippled with debt besides; but he still rode a fine horse,
+lived in expensive chambers, dressed better than any man in London, and
+gave admirable dinners to all and sundry. He realised then that he could
+only retrieve his fortunes by a rich marriage. Fred Allerton was still a
+handsome man, and he knew from long experience how easy it was to say
+pleasant things to a woman. There was a peculiar light in his blue eyes
+which persuaded everyone of the goodness of his heart. He was amusing
+and full of spirits. He fixed upon a Miss Boulger, one of the two
+daughters of a Liverpool manufacturer, and succeeded after a
+surprisingly short time in assuring her of his passion. There was a
+convincing air of truth in all he said, and she returned his flame with
+readiness. It was clear to him that her sister was equally prepared to
+fall in love with him, and he regretted with diverting frankness to his
+more intimate friends that the laws of the land prevented him from
+marrying them both and acquiring two fortunes instead of one. He married
+the younger Miss Boulger, and on her dowry paid off the mortgages on
+Hamlyn's Purlieu, his own debts, and succeeded for several years in
+having an excellent time. The poor woman, happily blind to his defects,
+adored him with all her soul. She trusted him entirely with the
+management of her money and only regretted that the affairs connected
+with it kept him so much in town. With marriage and his new connection
+with commerce Fred Allerton had come to the conclusion that he had
+business abilities, and he occupied himself thenceforward with all
+manner of financial schemes. With unwearied enthusiasm he entered upon
+some new affair which was going to bring him untold wealth as soon as
+the last had finally sunk into the abyss of bankruptcy. Hamlyn's Purlieu
+had never known such gaieties as during the fifteen years of Mrs.
+Allerton's married life. All kinds of people were brought down by Fred;
+and the dignified dining-room, which for centuries had witnessed
+discussions, learned or flippant, on the merits of Greek and Latin
+authors, or the excellencies of Italian masters, now heard strange talk
+of stocks and shares, companies, syndicates, options and holdings. When
+Mrs. Allerton died suddenly she was entirely unconscious that her
+husband had squandered every penny of the money which had been settled
+on her children, had mortgaged once more the broad fields of his
+ancestors, and was head over ears in debt. She expired with his name
+upon her lips, and blessed the day on which she had first seen him. She
+had one son and one daughter. Lucy was a girl of fifteen when her mother
+died, and George, the boy, was ten.
+
+It was Lucy, now a woman of twenty-five, who turned her back upon the
+Kentish sea and slowly walked across the marsh. And as she walked, the
+recollection of the ten years that had passed since then was placed
+before her as it were in a single Sash.
+
+At first her father had seemed the most wonderful being in the world,
+and she had worshipped him with all her childish heart. The love that
+bound her to her mother was pale in comparison, for Lucy could not
+divide her affections, giving part here, part there; her father, with
+his wonderful gift of sympathy, his indescribable charm, conquered her
+entirely. It was her greatest delight to be with him. She was
+entertained and exhilarated by his society, and she hated the men of
+business who absorbed so much of his time.
+
+When Mrs. Allerton died George was sent to school, but Lucy, in charge
+of a governess, remained year in, year out, at Hamlyn's Purlieu with her
+books, her dogs, and her horses. And gradually, she knew not how, it was
+borne in upon her that the father who had seemed such a paragon of
+chivalry, was weak, unreliable, and shifty. She fought against the
+suspicions that poisoned her mind, charging herself bitterly with
+meanness of spirit, but one small incident after another brought the
+truth home to her. She recognised with a shiver of anguish that his
+standard of veracity was utterly different from hers. He was not very
+careful to keep his word. He was not scrupulous in money matters. With
+her, honesty, truthfulness, exactness in all affairs, were not only
+instinctive, but deliberate; for the pride of her birth was so great
+that she felt it incumbent upon her to be ten times more careful in
+these things than the ordinary run of men.
+
+And then, from a word here and a word there, by horrified guesses and by
+a kind of instinctive surmise, she realised presently the whole truth of
+her father's life. She found out that Hamlyn's Purlieu was mortgaged
+for every penny it was worth, she found out that there was a bill of
+sale on the furniture, that money had been raised on the pictures; and,
+at last, that her mother's money, left in her father's trust to her and
+George, had been spent. And still Fred Allerton lived with prodigal
+magnificence.
+
+It was only very gradually that Lucy discovered these things. There was
+no one whom she could consult, and she had to devise some mode of
+conduct by herself. It was all a matter of supposition, and she knew
+almost nothing for certain. She made up her mind that she would probe no
+deeper. But since such knowledge as she had came to her only by degrees,
+she was able the better to adapt her behaviour to it. The pride which
+for so long had been a characteristic of the Allertons, but had
+unaccountably missed Fred, in her enjoyed all its force; and what she
+knew now served only to augment it. In the ruin of her ideals she had
+nothing but that to cling to, and she cherished it with an unreasoning
+passion. She had a cult for the ancestors whose portraits looked down
+upon her in one room after another of Hamlyn's Purlieu, and from their
+names and the look of them, which was all that remained, she made them
+in her fancy into personalities whose influence might somehow counteract
+the weakness of her father. In them there was so much uprightness,
+strength, and simple goodness; the sum total of it must prevail in the
+long run against the unruly instincts of one man. And she loved her old
+home, with all its exquisite contents, with its rich gardens, its broad,
+fertile fields, above all with its wild heath and flat sea-marshes, she
+loved it with a hungry devotion, saddened and yet more vehement because
+her hold on it was jeopardised. She set the whole strength of her will
+on preserving the place for her brother. Her greatest desire was to fill
+him with the determination to reclaim it from the foreign hands that had
+some hold upon it, and to restore it to its ancient freedom.
+
+Upon George were set all Lucy's hopes. He could restore the fallen
+fortunes of their race, and her part must be to train him to the
+glorious task. He was growing up, and she made up her mind to keep from
+him all knowledge of her father's weakness. To George he must seem to
+the last an honest gentleman.
+
+Lucy transferred to her brother all the love which she had lavished on
+her father. She watched his growth fondly, interesting herself in his
+affairs, and seeking to be to him not only a sister, but the mother he
+had lost and the father who was unworthy. When he was of a fit age she
+saw that he was sent to Winchester. She followed his career with passion
+and entered eagerly into all his interests.
+
+But if Lucy had lost her old love for her father, its place had been
+taken by a pitying tenderness; and she did all she could to conceal from
+him the change in her feelings. It was easy when she was with him, for
+then it was impossible to resist his charm; and it was only afterwards,
+when he was no longer there to explain things away, that she could not
+crush the horror and resentment with which she regarded him. But of this
+no one knew anything; and she set herself deliberately not only to make
+such headway as she could in the tangle of their circumstances, but to
+conceal from everyone the actual state of things.
+
+For presently Fred Allerton seemed no longer to have an inexhaustible
+supply of ready money, and Lucy had to resort to a very careful economy.
+She reduced expenses in every way she could, and when left alone in the
+house, lived with the utmost frugality. She hated to ask her father for
+money, and since often he did not pay the allowance that was due to her,
+she was obliged to exercise a good deal of self-denial. As soon as she
+was old enough, Lucy had taken the household affairs into her own hands
+and had learned to conduct them in such a way as to hide from the world
+how difficult it was to make both ends meet. Now, feeling that things
+were approaching a crisis, she sold the horses and dismissed most of the
+servants. A great fear seized her that it would be impossible to keep
+Hamlyn's Purlieu, and she was stricken with panic. She was willing to
+make every sacrifice but that, and if she were only allowed to remain
+there, did not care how penuriously she lived.
+
+But the struggle was growing harder. None knew what she had endured in
+her endeavour to keep their heads above water. And she had borne
+everything with perfect cheerfulness. Though she saw a good deal of the
+neighbouring gentry, connected with her by blood or long friendship, not
+one of them divined her great anxiety. She felt vaguely that they knew
+how things were going, but she held her head high and gave no one an
+opportunity to pity her. Her father was now absent from home more
+frequently and seemed to avoid being alone with her. They had never
+discussed the state of their affairs, for he assumed with Lucy a
+determined flippancy which prevented any serious conversation. On her
+twenty-first birthday he had made some facetious observation about the
+money of which she was now mistress, but had treated the matter with
+such an airy charm that she had felt unable to proceed with it. Nor did
+she wish to, for if he had spent her money nothing could be done, and it
+was better not to know for certain. Notwithstanding settlements and
+wills, she felt that it was really his to do what he liked with, and she
+made up her mind that nothing in her behaviour should be construed as a
+reproach.
+
+At length the crash came.
+
+She received a telegram one day--she was nearly twenty-three then--from
+Richard Lomas, an old friend of her mother's, to say that he was coming
+down for luncheon. She walked to the station to meet him. She was very
+fond of him, not only for his own sake, but because her mother had been
+fond of him, too; and the affection which had existed between them, drew
+her nearer to the mother whom she felt now she had a little neglected.
+Dick Lomas was a barrister, who, after contesting two seats
+unsuccessfully, had got into Parliament at the last general election and
+had made already a certain name for himself by the wittiness of his
+speeches and the bluntness of his common sense. He had neither the
+portentous gravity nor the dogmatic airs which afflicted most of his
+legal colleagues in the house. He was a man who had solved the
+difficulty of being sensible without tediousness and pointed without
+impertinence. He was wise enough not to speak too often, and if only he
+had not possessed a sense of humour--which his countrymen always regard
+with suspicion in an English politician--he might have looked forward to
+a brilliant future. He was a wiry little man, with a sharp,
+good-humoured face and sparkling eyes. He carried his seven and thirty
+years with gaiety.
+
+But on this occasion he was unusually grave. Lucy, already surprised at
+his sudden visit, divined at once from the uneasiness of his pleasant,
+grey eyes that something was amiss. Her heart began to beat more
+quickly. He forced himself to smile as he took her hand, congratulating
+her on the healthiness of her appearance; and they walked slowly from
+the station. Dick spoke of indifferent things, while Lucy distractedly
+turned over in her mind all that could have happened. Luncheon was ready
+for them, and Dick sat down with apparent gusto, praising emphatically
+the good things she set before him; but he ate as little as she did. He
+seemed impatient for the meal to end, but unwilling to enter upon the
+subject which oppressed him. They drank their coffee.
+
+'Shall we go for a turn in the garden?' he suggested.
+
+'Certainly.'
+
+After his last visit, Dick had sent down an old sundial which he had
+picked up in a shop in Westminster, and Lucy took him to the place which
+they had before decided needed just such an ornament. They discussed it
+at some length, but then silence fell suddenly upon them, and they
+walked side by side without a word. Dick slipped his arm through hers
+with a caressing motion, and Lucy, unused to any tenderness, felt a sob
+rise to her throat. They went in once more and stood in the
+drawing-room. From the walls looked down the treasures of the house.
+There was a portrait by Reynolds, and another by Hoppner, and there was
+a beautiful picture of the Grand Canal by Guardi, and there was a
+portrait by Goya of a General Allerton who had fought in the Peninsular
+War. Dick gave them a glance, and his blood tingled with admiration. He
+leaned against the fireplace.
+
+'Your father asked me to come down and see you, Lucy. He was too worried
+to come himself.'
+
+Lucy looked at him with grave eyes, but made no reply.
+
+'He's had some very bad luck lately. Your father is a man who prides
+himself on his business ability, but he has no more knowledge of such
+matters than a child. He's an imaginative man, and when some scheme
+appeals to his feeling for romance, he loses all sense of proportion.'
+
+Dick paused again. It was impossible to soften the blow, and he could
+only put it bluntly.
+
+'He's been gambling on the Stock Exchange, and he's been badly let down.
+He was bulling a number of South American railways, and there's been a
+panic in the market. He's lost enormously. I don't know if any
+settlement can be made with his creditors, but if not he must go
+bankrupt. In any case, I'm afraid Hamlyn's Purlieu must be sold.'
+
+Lucy walked to the window and looked out. But she could see nothing. Her
+eyes were blurred with tears. She breathed quickly, trying to control
+herself.
+
+'I've been expecting it for a long time,' she said at last. 'I've
+refused to face it, and I put the thought away from me, but I knew
+really that it must come to that.'
+
+'I'm very sorry,' said Dick helplessly.
+
+She turned on him fiercely, and the colour rose to her cheeks. But she
+restrained herself and left unsaid the bitter words that had come to
+her tongue. She made a pitiful gesture of despair. He felt how poor were
+his words of consolation, and how inadequate to her great grief, and he
+was silent.
+
+'And what about George?' she asked.
+
+George was then eighteen, and on the point of leaving Winchester. It had
+been arranged that he should go to Oxford at the beginning of the next
+term.
+
+'Lady Kelsey has offered to pay his expenses at the 'Varsity,' answered
+Dick, 'and she wants you to go and stay with her for the present.'
+
+'Do you mean to say we're penniless?' asked Lucy, desperately.
+
+'I think you cannot depend on your father for much regular assistance.'
+
+Lucy was silent again.
+
+Lady Kelsey was the elder sister of Mrs. Allerton, and some time after
+that lady's marriage had accepted a worthy merchant whose father had
+been in partnership with hers; and he, after a prosperous career crowned
+by surrendering his seat in Parliament to a defeated cabinet-minister--a
+patriotic act for which he was rewarded with a knighthood--had died,
+leaving her well off and childless. She had but one other nephew, Robert
+Boulger, her brother's only son, but he was rich with all the inherited
+wealth of the firm of Boulger & Kelsey; and her affections were placed
+chiefly upon the children of the man whom she had loved devotedly and
+who had married her sister.
+
+'I was hoping you would come up to town with me now,' said Dick. 'Lady
+Kelsey is expecting you, and I cannot bear to think of you by yourself
+here.'
+
+'I shall stay till the last moment.'
+
+Dick hesitated again. He had wished to keep back the full brutality of
+the blow, but sooner or later it must be given.
+
+'The place is already sold. Your father accepted an offer from
+Jarrett--you remember him, he has been down here; he is your father's
+broker and chief creditor--and everything else is to go to Christy's at
+once.'
+
+'Then there is no more to be said.'
+
+She gave Dick her hand.
+
+'You won't mind if I don't come to the station with you?'
+
+'Won't you come up to London?' he asked again.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+'I want to be alone. Forgive me if I make you go so abruptly.'
+
+'My dear girl, it's very good of you to make sure that I don't miss my
+train,' he smiled drily.
+
+'Good-bye and thank you.'
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+While Lucy wandered by the seashore, occupied with painful memories, her
+old friend Dick, too lazy to walk with her, sat in the drawing-room of
+Court Leys, talking to his hostess.
+
+Mrs. Crowley was an American woman, who had married an Englishman, and
+on being left a widow, had continued to live in England. She was a
+person who thoroughly enjoyed life; and indeed there was every reason
+that she should do so, since she was young, pretty, and rich; she had a
+quick mind and an alert tongue. She was of diminutive size, so small
+that Dick Lomas, by no means a tall man, felt quite large by the side of
+her. Her figure was exquisite, and she had the smallest hands in the
+world. Her features were so good, regular and well-formed, her
+complexion so perfect, her agile grace so enchanting, that she did not
+seem a real person at all. She was too delicate for the hurly-burly of
+life, and it seemed improbable that she could be made of the ordinary
+clay from which human beings are manufactured. She had the artificial
+grace of those dainty, exquisite ladies in the _Embarquement pour
+Cithere_ of the charming Watteau; and you felt that she was fit to
+saunter on that sunny strand, habited in satin of delicate colours, with
+a witty, decadent cavalier by her side. It was preposterous to talk to
+her of serious things, and nothing but an airy badinage seemed possible
+in her company.
+
+Mrs. Crowley had asked Lucy and Dick Lomas to stay with her in the
+house she had just taken for a term of years. She had spent a week by
+herself to arrange things to her liking, and insisted that Dick should
+admire all she had done. After a walk round the park he vowed that he
+was exhausted and must rest till tea-time.
+
+'Now tell me what made you take it. It's so far from anywhere.'
+
+'I met the owner in Rome last winter. It belongs to a Mrs. Craddock, and
+when I told her I was looking out for a house, she suggested that I
+should come and see this.'
+
+'Why doesn't she live in it herself?'
+
+'Oh, I don't know. It appears that she was passionately devoted to her
+husband, and he broke his neck in the hunting-field, so she couldn't
+bear to live here any more.'
+
+Mrs. Crowley looked round the drawing-room with satisfaction. At first
+it had borne the cheerless look of a house uninhabited, but she had
+quickly made it pleasant with flowers, photographs, and silver
+ornaments. The Sheraton furniture and the chintzes suited the style of
+her beauty. She felt that she looked in place in that comfortable room,
+and was conscious that her frock fitted her and the circumstances
+perfectly. Dick's eye wandered to the books that were scattered here and
+there.
+
+'And have you put out these portentous works in order to improve your
+mind, or with the laudable desire of impressing me with the serious turn
+of your intellect?'
+
+'You don't think I'm such a perfect fool as to try and impress an
+entirely flippant person like yourself?'
+
+On the table at his elbow were a copy of the _Revue des Deux Mondes_ and
+one of the _Fortnightly Review_. He took up two books, and saw that one
+was the _Froehliche Wissenschaft_ of Nietzsche, who was then beginning to
+be read in England by the fashionable world and was on the eve of being
+discovered by men of letters, while the other was a volume of Mrs.
+Crowley's compatriot, William James.
+
+'American women amaze me,' said Dick, as he put them down. 'They buy
+their linen at Doucet's and read Herbert Spencer with avidity. And
+what's more, they seem to like him. An Englishwoman can seldom read a
+serious book without feeling a prig, and as soon as she feels a prig she
+leaves off her corsets.'
+
+'I feel vaguely that you're paying me a compliment,' returned Mrs.
+Crowley, 'but it's so elusive that I can't quite catch it.'
+
+'The best compliments are those that flutter about your head like
+butterflies around a flower.'
+
+'I much prefer to fix them down on a board with a pin through their
+insides and a narrow strip of paper to hold down each wing.'
+
+It was October, but the autumn, late that year, had scarcely coloured
+the leaves, and the day was warm. Mrs. Crowley, however, was a chilly
+being, and a fire burned in the grate. She put another log on it and
+watched the merry crackle of the flames.
+
+'It was very good of you to ask Lucy down here,' said Dick, suddenly.
+
+'I don't know why. I like her so much. And I felt sure she would fit the
+place. She looks a little like a Gainsborough portrait, doesn't she? And
+I like to see her in this Georgian house.'
+
+'She's not had much of a time since they sold the family place. It was a
+great grief to her.'
+
+'I feel such a pig to have here the things I bought at the sale.'
+
+When the contents of Hamlyn's Purlieu were sent to Christy's, Mrs.
+Crowley, recently widowed and without a home, had bought one or two
+pictures and some old chairs. She had brought these down to Court Leys,
+and was much tormented at the thought of causing Lucy a new grief.
+
+'Perhaps she didn't recognise them,' said Dick.
+
+'Don't be so idiotic. Of course she recognised them. I saw her eyes fall
+on the Reynolds the very moment she came into the room.'
+
+'I'm sure she would rather you had them than any stranger.'
+
+'She's said nothing about them. You know, I'm very fond of her, and I
+admire her extremely, but she would be easier to get on with if she were
+less reserved. I never shall get into this English way of bottling up my
+feelings and sitting on them.'
+
+'It sounds a less comfortable way of reposing oneself than sitting in an
+armchair.'
+
+'I would offer to give Lucy back all the things I bought, only I'm sure
+she'd snub me.'
+
+'She doesn't mean to be unkind, but she's had a very hard life, and it's
+had its effect on her character. I don't think anyone knows what she's
+gone through during these ten years. She's borne the responsibilities of
+her whole family since she was fifteen, and if the crash didn't come
+sooner, it was owing to her. She's never been a girl, poor thing; she
+was a child, and then suddenly she was a woman.'
+
+'But has she never had any lovers?'
+
+'I fancy that she's rather a difficult person to make love to. It would
+be a bold young man who whispered sweet nothings into her ear; they'd
+sound so very foolish.'
+
+'At all events there's Bobbie Boulger. I'm sure he's asked her to marry
+him scores of times.'
+
+Sir Robert Boulger had succeeded his father, the manufacturer, as second
+baronet; and had promptly placed his wealth and his personal advantages
+at Lucy's feet. His devotion to her was well known to his friends. They
+had all listened to the protestations of undying passion, which Lucy,
+with gentle humour, put smilingly aside. Lady Kelsey, his aunt and
+Lucy's, had done all she could to bring the pair together; and it was
+evident that from every point of view a marriage between them was
+desirable. He was not unattractive in appearance, his fortune was
+considerable, and his manners were good. He was a good-natured, pleasant
+fellow, with no great strength of character perhaps, but Lucy had enough
+of that for two; and with her to steady him, he had enough brains to
+make some figure in the world.
+
+'I've never seen Mr. Allerton,' remarked Mrs. Crowley, presently. 'He
+must be a horrid man.'
+
+'On the contrary, he's the most charming creature I ever met, and I
+don't believe there's a man in London who can borrow a hundred pounds of
+you with a greater air of doing you a service. If you met him you'd fall
+in love with him before you'd got well into your favourite conversation
+on bimetallism.'
+
+'I've never discussed bimetallism in my life,' protested Mrs. Crowley.
+
+'All women do.'
+
+'What?'
+
+'Fall in love with him. He knows exactly what to talk to them about, and
+he has the most persuasive voice you ever heard. I believe Lady Kelsey
+has been in love with him for five and twenty years. It's lucky they've
+not yet passed the deceased wife's sister's bill, or he would have
+married her and run through her money as he did his first wife's. He's
+still very good-looking, and there's such a transparent honesty about
+him that I promise you he's irresistible.'
+
+'And what has happened to him since the catastrophe?'
+
+'Well, the position of an undischarged bankrupt is never particularly
+easy, though I've known men who've cavorted about in motors and given
+dinners at the _Carlton_ when they were in that state, and seemed
+perfectly at peace with the world in general. But with Fred Allerton the
+proceedings before the Official Receiver seem to have broken down the
+last remnants of his self-respect. He was glad to get rid of his
+children, and Lady Kelsey was only too happy to provide for them. Heaven
+only knows how he's lived during the last two years. He's still occupied
+with a variety of crack-brained schemes, and he's been to me more than
+once for money to finance them with.'
+
+'I hope you weren't such a fool as to give it.'
+
+'I wasn't. I flatter myself that I combined frankness with good-nature
+in the right proportion, and in the end he was always satisfied with the
+nimble fiver. But I'm afraid things are going harder with him. He has
+lost his old alert gaiety, and he's a little down at heel in character
+as well as in person. There's a furtive look about him, as though he
+were ready for undertakings that were not quite above board, and there's
+a shiftiness in his eye which makes his company a little disagreeable.'
+
+'You don't think he'd do anything dishonest?' asked Mrs. Crowley
+quickly.
+
+'Oh, no. I don't believe he has the nerve to sail closer to the wind
+than the law allows, and really, at bottom, notwithstanding all I know
+of him, I think he's an honest man. It's only behind his back that I
+have any doubts about him; when he's there face to face with me I
+succumb to his charm. I can believe nothing to his discredit.'
+
+At that moment they saw Lucy walking towards them. Dick Lomas got up and
+stood at the window. Mrs. Crowley, motionless, watched her from her
+chair. They were both silent. A smile of sympathy played on Mrs.
+Crowley's lips, and her heart went out to the girl who had undergone so
+much. A vague memory came back to her, and for a moment she was puzzled;
+but then she hit upon the idea that had hovered about her mind, and she
+remembered distinctly the admirable picture by John Furse at Millbank,
+which is called _Diana of the Uplands_. It had pleased her always, not
+only because of its beauty and the fine power of the painter, but
+because it seemed to her as it were a synthesis of the English spirit.
+Her nationality gave her an interest in the observation of this, and her
+wide, systematic reading the power to compare and analyse. This portrait
+of a young woman holding two hounds in leash, the wind of the northern
+moor on which she stands, blowing her skirts and outlining her lithe
+figure, seemed to Mrs. Crowley admirably to follow in the tradition of
+the eighteenth century. And as Reynolds and Gainsborough, with their
+elegant ladies in powdered hair and high-waisted gowns, standing in
+leafy, woodland scenes, had given a picture of England in the age of
+Reason, well-bred and beautiful, artificial and a little airless, so had
+Furse in this represented the England of to-day. It was an England that
+valued cleanliness above all things, of the body and of the spirit, an
+England that loved the open air and feared not the wildness of nature
+nor the violence of the elements. And Mrs. Crowley had lived long enough
+in the land of her fathers to know that this was a true England, simple
+and honest; narrow perhaps, and prejudiced, but strong, brave, and of
+great ideals. The girl who stood on that upland, looking so candidly out
+of her blue eyes, was a true descendant of the ladies that Sir Joshua
+painted, but she had a bath every morning, loved her dogs, and wore a
+short, serviceable skirt. With an inward smile, Mrs. Crowley
+acknowledged that she was probably bored by Emerson and ignorant of
+English literature; but for the moment she was willing to pardon these
+failings in her admiration for the character and all it typified.
+
+Lucy came in, and Mrs. Crowley gave her a nod of welcome. She was fond
+of her fantasies and would not easily interrupt them. She noted that
+Lucy had just that frank look of _Diana of the Uplands_, and the
+delicate, sensitive face, refined with the good-breeding of centuries,
+but strengthened by an athletic life. Her skin was very clear. It had
+gained a peculiar freshness by exposure to all manner of weather. Her
+bright, fair hair was a little disarranged after her walk, and she went
+to the glass to set it right. Mrs. Crowley observed with delight the
+straightness of her nose and the delicate curve of her lips. She was
+tall and strong, but her figure was very slight; and there was a
+charming litheness about her which suggested the good horse-woman.
+
+But what struck Mrs. Crowley most was that only the keenest observer
+could have told that she had endured more than other women of her age. A
+stranger would have delighted in her frank smile and the kindly sympathy
+of her eyes; and it was only if you knew the troubles she had suffered
+that you saw how much more womanly she was than girlish. There was a
+self-possession about her which came from the responsibilities she had
+borne so long, and an unusual reserve, unconsciously masked by a great
+charm of manner, which only intimate friends discerned, but which even
+to them was impenetrable. Mrs. Crowley, with her American impulsiveness,
+had tried in all kindliness to get through the barrier, but she had
+never succeeded. All Lucy's struggles, her heart-burnings and griefs,
+her sudden despairs and eager hopes, her tempestuous angers, took place
+in the bottom of her heart. She would have been as dismayed at the
+thought of others seeing them as she would have been at the thought of
+being discovered unclothed. Shyness and pride combined to make her hide
+her innermost feelings so that no one should venture to offer sympathy
+or commiseration.
+
+'Do ring the bell for tea,' said Mrs. Crowley to Lucy, as she turned
+away from the glass. 'I can't get Mr. Lomas to amuse me till he's had
+some stimulating refreshment.'
+
+'I hope you like the tea I sent you,' said Dick.
+
+'Very much. Though I'm inclined to look upon it as a slight that you
+should send me down only just enough to last over your visit.'
+
+'I always herald my arrival in a country house by a little present of
+tea,' said Dick. 'The fact is it's the only good tea in the world. I
+sent my father to China for seven years to find it, and I'm sure you
+will agree that my father has not lived an ill-spent life.'
+
+The tea was brought and duly drunk. Mrs. Crowley asked Lucy how her
+brother was. He had been at Oxford for the last two years.
+
+'I had a letter from him yesterday,' the girl answered. 'I think he's
+getting on very well. I hope he'll take his degree next year.'
+
+A happy brightness came into her eyes as she talked of him. She
+apologised, blushing, for her eagerness.
+
+'You know, I've looked after George ever since he was ten, and I feel
+like a mother to him. It's only with the greatest difficulty I can
+prevent myself from telling you how he got through the measles, and how
+well he bore vaccination.'
+
+Lucy was very proud of her brother. She found a constant satisfaction in
+his good looks, and she loved the openness of his smile. She had striven
+with all her might to keep away from him the troubles that oppressed
+her, and had determined that nothing, if she could help it, should
+disturb his radiant satisfaction with the world. She knew that he was
+apt to lean on her, but though she chid herself sometimes for fostering
+the tendency, she could not really prevent the intense pleasure it gave
+her. He was young yet, and would soon enough grow into manly ways; it
+could not matter if now he depended upon her for everything. She
+rejoiced in the ardent affection which he gave her; and the implicit
+trust he placed in her, the complete reliance on her judgment, filled
+her with a proud humility. It made her feel stronger and better capable
+of affronting the difficulties of life. And Lucy, living much in the
+future, was pleased to see how beloved George was of all his friends.
+Everyone seemed willing to help him, and this seemed of good omen for
+the career which she had mapped out for him.
+
+The recollection of him came to Lucy now as she had last seen him. They
+had been spending part of the summer with Lady Kelsey at her house on
+the Thames. George was going to Scotland to stay with friends, and Lucy,
+bound elsewhere, was leaving earlier in the afternoon. He came to see
+her off. She was touched, in her own sorrow at leaving him, by his
+obvious emotion. The tears were in his eyes as he kissed her on the
+platform. She saw him waving to her as the train sped towards London,
+slender and handsome, looking more boyish than ever in his whites; and
+she felt a thrill of gratitude because, with all her sorrows and
+regrets, she at least had him.
+
+'I hope he's a good shot,' she said inconsequently, as Mrs. Crowley
+handed her a cap of tea. 'Of course it's in the family.'
+
+'Marvellous family!' said Dick, ironically. 'You would be wiser to wish
+he had a good head for figures.'
+
+'But I hope he has that, too,' she answered.
+
+It had been arranged that George should go into the business in which
+Lady Kelsey still had a large interest. Lucy wanted him to make great
+sums of money, so that he might pay his father's debts, and perhaps buy
+back the house which her family had owned so long.
+
+'I want him to be a clever man of business--since business is the only
+thing open to him now--and an excellent sportsman.'
+
+She was too shy to describe her ambition, but her fancy had already cast
+a glow over the calling which George was to adopt. There was in the
+family an innate tendency toward the more exquisite things of life, and
+this would colour his career. She hoped he would become a merchant
+prince after the pattern of those Florentines who have left an ideal for
+succeeding ages of the way in which commerce may be ennobled by a
+liberal view of life. Like them he could drive hard bargains and amass
+riches--she recognised that riches now were the surest means of
+power--but like them also he could love music and art and literature,
+cherishing the things of the soul with a careful taste, and at the same
+time excel in all sports of the field. Life then would be as full as a
+man's heart could wish; and this intermingling of interests might so
+colour it that he would lead the whole with a certain beauty and
+grandeur.
+
+'I wish I were a man,' she cried, with a bright smile. 'It's so hard
+that I can do nothing but sit at home and spur others on. I want to do
+things myself.'
+
+Mrs. Crowley leaned back in her chair. She gave her skirt a little twist
+so that the line of her form should be more graceful.
+
+'I'm so glad I'm a woman,' she murmured. 'I want none of the privileges
+of the sex which I'm delighted to call stronger. I want men to be noble
+and heroic and self-sacrificing; then they can protect me from a
+troublesome world, and look after me, and wait upon me. I'm an
+irresponsible creature with whom they can never be annoyed however
+exacting I am--it's only pretty thoughtlessness on my part--and they
+must never lose their tempers however I annoy--it's only nerves. Oh, no,
+I like to be a poor, weak woman.'
+
+'You're a monster of cynicism,' cried Dick. 'You use an imaginary
+helplessness with the brutality of a buccaneer, and your ingenuousness
+is a pistol you put to one's head, crying: your money or your life.'
+
+'You look very comfortable, dear Mr. Lomas,' she retorted. 'Would you
+mind very much if I asked you to put my footstool right for me?'
+
+'I should mind immensely,' he smiled, without moving.
+
+'Oh, please do,' she said, with a piteous little expression of appeal.
+'I'm so uncomfortable, and my foot's going to sleep. And you needn't be
+horrid to me.'
+
+'I didn't know you really meant it,' he said, getting up obediently and
+doing what was required of him.
+
+'I didn't,' she answered, as soon as he had finished. 'But I know you're
+a lazy creature, and I merely wanted to see if I could make you move
+when I'd warned you immediately before that--I was a womanly woman.'
+
+'I wonder if you'd make Alec MacKenzie do that?' laughed Dick,
+good-naturedly.
+
+'Good heavens, I'd never try. Haven't you discovered that women know by
+instinct what men they can make fools of, and they only try their arts
+on them? They've gained their reputation for omnipotence only on account
+of their robust common-sense, which leads them only to attack
+fortresses which are already half demolished.'
+
+'That suggests to my mind that every woman is a Potiphar's wife, though
+every man isn't a Joseph,' said Dick.
+
+'Your remark is too blunt to be witty,' returned Mrs. Crowley, 'but it's
+not without its grain of truth.'
+
+Lucy, smiling, listened to the nonsense they talked. In their company
+she lost all sense of reality; Mrs. Crowley was so fragile, and Dick had
+such a whimsical gaiety, that she could not treat them as real persons.
+She felt herself a grown-up being assisting at some childish game in
+which preposterous ideas were bandied to and fro like answers in the
+game of consequences.
+
+'I never saw people wander from the subject as you do,' she protested.
+'I can't imagine what connection there is between whether Mr. MacKenzie
+would arrange Julia's footstool, and the profligacy of the female sex.'
+
+'Don't be hard on us,' said Mrs. Crowley. 'I must work off my flippancy
+before he arrives, and then I shall be ready to talk imperially.'
+
+'When does Alec come?' asked Dick.
+
+'Now, this very minute. I've sent a carriage to meet him at the station.
+You won't let him depress me, will you?'
+
+'Why did you ask him if he affects you in that way?' asked Lucy,
+laughing.
+
+'But I like him--at least I think I do--and in any case, I admire him,
+and I'm sure he's good for me. And Mr. Lomas wanted me to ask him, and
+he plays bridge extraordinarily well. And I thought he would be
+interesting. The only thing I have against him is that he never laughs
+when I say a clever thing, and looks so uncomfortably at me when I say a
+foolish one.'
+
+'I'm glad I laugh when you say a clever thing,' said Dick.
+
+'You don't. But you roar so heartily at your own jokes that if I hurry
+up and slip one in before you've done, I can often persuade myself that
+you're laughing at mine.'
+
+'And do you like Alec MacKenzie, Lucy?' asked Dick.
+
+She paused for a moment before she answered, and hesitated.
+
+'I don't know,' she said. 'Sometimes I think I rather dislike him. But
+I'm like Julia, I certainly admire him.'
+
+'I suppose he is rather alarming,' said Dick. 'He's difficult to know,
+and he's obviously impatient with other people's affectations. There's a
+certain grimness about him which disturbs you unless you know him
+intimately.'
+
+'He's your greatest friend, isn't he?'
+
+'He is.'
+
+Dick paused for a little while.
+
+'I've known him for twenty years now, and I look upon him as the
+greatest man I've ever set eyes on. I think it's an inestimable
+privilege to have been his friend.'
+
+'I've not noticed that you treated him with especial awe,' said Mrs.
+Crowley.
+
+'Heaven save us!' cried Dick. 'I can only hold my own by laughing at him
+persistently.'
+
+'He bears it with unexampled good-nature.'
+
+'Have I ever told you how I made his acquaintance? It was in about
+fifty fathoms of water, and at least a thousand miles from land.'
+
+'What an inconvenient place for an introduction!'
+
+'We were both very wet. I was a young fool in those days, and I was
+playing the giddy goat--I was just going up to Oxford, and my wise
+father had sent me to America on a visit to enlarge my mind--I fell
+over-board, and was proceeding to drown, when Alec jumped in after me
+and held me up by the hair of my head.'
+
+'He'd have some difficulty in doing that now, wouldn't he?' suggested
+Mrs. Crowley, with a glance at Dick's thinning locks.
+
+'And the odd thing is that he was absurdly grateful to me for letting
+myself be saved. He seemed to think I had done him an intentional
+service, and fallen into the Atlantic for the sole purpose of letting
+him pull me out.'
+
+Dick had scarcely said these words when they heard the carriage drive up
+to the door of Court Leys.
+
+'There he is,' cried Dick eagerly.
+
+Mrs. Crowley's butler opened the door and announced the man they had
+been discussing. Alexander MacKenzie came in.
+
+He was just under six feet high, spare and well-made. He did not at the
+first glance give you the impression of particular strength, but his
+limbs were well-knit, there was no superfluous flesh about him, and you
+felt immediately that he had great powers of endurance. His hair was
+dark and cut very close. His short beard and his moustache were red.
+They concealed the squareness of his chin and the determination of his
+mouth. His eyes were not large, but they rested on the object that
+attracted his attention with a peculiar fixity. When he talked to you
+he did not glance this way or that, but looked straight at you with a
+deliberate steadiness that was a little disconcerting. He walked with an
+easy swing, like a man in the habit of covering a vast number of miles
+each day, and there was in his manner a self-assurance which suggested
+that he was used to command. His skin was tanned by exposure to tropical
+suns.
+
+Mrs. Crowley and Dick chattered light-heartedly, but it was clear that
+he had no power of small-talk, and after the first greetings he fell
+into silence; he refused tea, but Mrs. Crowley poured out a cup and
+handed it to him.
+
+'You need not drink it, but I insist on your holding it in your hand. I
+hate people who habitually deny themselves things, and I can't allow you
+to mortify the flesh in my house.'
+
+Alec smiled gravely.
+
+'Of course I will drink it if it pleases you,' he answered. 'I got in
+the habit in Africa of eating only two meals a day, and I can't get out
+of it now. But I'm afraid it's very inconvenient for my friends.' He
+looked at Lomas, and though his mouth did not smile, a look came into
+his eyes, partly of tenderness, partly of amusement. 'Dick, of course,
+eats far too much.'
+
+'Good heavens, I'm nearly the only person left in London who is
+completely normal. I eat my three square meals a day regularly, and I
+always have a comfortable tea into the bargain. I don't suffer from any
+disease. I'm in the best of health. I have no fads. I neither nibble
+nuts like a squirrel, nor grapes like a bird--I care nothing for all
+this jargon about pepsins and proteids and all the rest of it. I'm not a
+vegetarian, but a carnivorous animal; I drink when I'm thirsty, and I
+decidedly prefer my beverages to be alcoholic.'
+
+'I was thinking at luncheon to-day,' said Mrs. Crowley, 'that the
+pleasure you took in roast-beef and ale showed a singularly gross and
+unemotional nature.'
+
+'I adore good food as I adore all the other pleasant things of life, and
+because I have that gift I am able to look upon the future with
+equanimity.'
+
+'Why?' asked Alec.
+
+'Because a love for good food is the only thing that remains with man
+when he grows old. Love? What is love when you are five and fifty and
+can no longer hide the disgraceful baldness of your pate. Ambition? What
+is ambition when you have discovered that honours are to the pushing and
+glory to the vulgar. Finally we must all reach an age when every passion
+seems vain, every desire not worth the trouble of achieving it; but then
+there still remain to the man with a good appetite three pleasures each
+day, his breakfast, his luncheon, and his dinner.'
+
+Alec's eyes rested on him quietly. He had never got out of the habit of
+looking upon Dick as a scatter-brained boy who talked nonsense for the
+fun of it; and his expression wore the amused disdain which one might
+have seen on a Saint Bernard when a toy-terrier was going through its
+tricks.
+
+'Please say something,' cried Dick, half-irritably.
+
+'I suppose you say those things in order that I may contradict you. Why
+should I? They're perfectly untrue, and I don't agree with a single word
+you say. But if it amuses you to talk nonsense, I don't see why you
+shouldn't.'
+
+'My dear Alec, I wish you wouldn't use the mailed fist in your
+conversation. It's so very difficult to play a game with a spillikin on
+one side and a sledge-hammer on the other.'
+
+Lucy, sitting back in her chair, quietly, was observing the new arrival.
+Dick had asked her and Mrs. Crowley to meet him at luncheon immediately
+after his arrival from Mombassa. This was two months ago now, and since
+then she had seen much of him. But she felt that she knew him little
+more than on that first day, and still she could not make up her mind
+whether she liked him or not. She was glad that they were staying
+together at Court Leys; it would give her an opportunity of really
+becoming acquainted with him, and there was no doubt that he was worth
+the trouble. The fire lit up his face, casting grim shadows upon it, so
+that it looked more than ever masterful and determined. He was
+unconscious that her eyes rested upon him. He was always unconscious of
+the attention he aroused.
+
+Lucy hoped that she would induce him to talk of the work he had done,
+and the work upon which he was engaged. With her mind fixed always on
+great endeavours, his career interested her enormously; and it gained
+something mysterious as well because there were gaps in her knowledge of
+him which no one seemed able to fill. He knew few people in London, but
+was known in one way or another of many; and all who had come in contact
+with him were unanimous in their opinion. He was supposed to know Africa
+as no other man knew it. During fifteen years he had been through every
+part of it, and had traversed districts which the white man had left
+untouched. But he had never written of his experiences, partly from
+indifference to chronicle the results of his undertakings, partly from a
+natural secrecy which made him hate to recount his deeds to all and
+sundry. It seemed that reserve was a deep-rooted instinct with him, and
+he was inclined to keep to himself all that he discovered. But if on
+this account he was unknown to the great public, his work was
+appreciated very highly by specialists. He had read papers before the
+Geographical Society, (though it had been necessary to exercise much
+pressure to induce him to do so), which had excited profound interest;
+and occasionally letters appeared from him in _Nature_, or in one of the
+ethnographical publications, stating briefly some discovery he had made,
+or some observation which he thought necessary to record. He had been
+asked now and again to make reports to the Foreign Office upon matters
+pertaining to the countries he knew; and Lucy had heard his perspicacity
+praised in no measured terms by those in power.
+
+She put together such facts as she knew of his career.
+
+Alec MacKenzie was a man of considerable means. He belonged to an old
+Scotch family, and had a fine place in the Highlands, but his income
+depended chiefly upon a colliery in Lancashire. His parents died during
+his childhood, and his wealth was much increased by a long minority.
+Having inherited from an uncle a ranch in the West, his desire to see
+this occasioned his first voyage from England in the interval between
+leaving Eton and going up to Oxford; and it was then he made
+acquaintance with Richard Lomas, who had remained his most intimate
+friend. The unlikeness of the two men caused perhaps the strength of
+the tie between them, the strenuous vehemence of the one finding a
+relief in the gaiety of the other. Soon after leaving Oxford, MacKenzie
+made a brief expedition into Algeria to shoot, and the mystery of the
+great continent seized him. As sometimes a man comes upon a new place
+which seems extraordinarily familiar, so that he is almost convinced
+that in a past state he has known it intimately, Alec suddenly found
+himself at home in the immense distances of Africa. He felt a singular
+exhilaration when the desert was spread out before his eyes, and
+capacities which he had not suspected in himself awoke in him. He had
+never thought himself an ambitious man, but ambition seized him. He had
+never imagined himself subject to poetic emotion, but all at once a
+feeling of the poetry of an adventurous life welled up within him. And
+though he had looked upon romance with the scorn of his Scottish common
+sense, an irresistible desire of the romantic surged upon him, like the
+waves of some unknown, mystical sea.
+
+When he returned to England a peculiar restlessness took hold of him. He
+was indifferent to the magnificence of the bag, which was the pride of
+his companions. He felt himself cribbed and confined. He could not
+breathe the air of cities.
+
+He began to read the marvellous records of African exploration, and his
+blood tingled at the magic of those pages. Mungo Park, a Scot like
+himself, had started the roll. His aim had been to find the source and
+trace the seaward course of the Niger. He took his life in his hands,
+facing boldly the perils of climate, savage pagans, and jealous
+Mohammedans, and discovered the upper portions of that great river. On a
+second expedition he undertook to follow it to the sea. Of his party
+some died of disease, and some were slain by the natives. Not one
+returned; and the only trace of Mungo Park was a book, known to have
+been in his possession, found by British explorers in the hut of a
+native chief.
+
+Then Alec MacKenzie read of the efforts to reach Timbuktu, which was the
+great object of ambition to the explorers of the nineteenth century. It
+exercised the same fascination over their minds as did El Dorado, with
+its golden city of Monoa, to the adventurers in the days of Queen
+Elizabeth. It was thought to be the capital of a powerful and wealthy
+state; and those ardent minds promised themselves all kinds of wonders
+when they should at last come upon it. But it was not the desire for
+gold that urged them on, rather an irresistible curiosity, and a pride
+in their own courage. One after another desperate attempts were made,
+and it was reached at last by another Scot, Alexander Gordon Laing. And
+his success was a symbol of all earthly endeavours, for the golden city
+of his dreams was no more than a poverty-stricken village.
+
+One by one Alec studied the careers of these great men; and he saw that
+the best of them had not gone with half an army at their backs, but
+almost alone, sometimes with not a single companion, and had depended
+for their success not upon the strength of their arms, but upon the
+strength of their character. Major Durham, an old Peninsular officer,
+was the first European to cross the Sahara. Captain Clapperton, with his
+servant, Richard Lander, was the first who traversed Africa from the
+Mediterranean to the Guinea Coast. And he died at his journey's end. And
+there was something fine in the devotion of Richard Lander, the
+faithful servant, who went on with his master's work and cleared up at
+last the great mystery of the Niger. And he, too, had no sooner done his
+work than he died, near the mouth of the river he had so long travelled
+on, of wounds inflicted by the natives. There was not one of those early
+voyagers who escaped with his life. It was the work of desperate men
+that they undertook, but there was no recklessness in them. They counted
+the cost and took the risk; the fascination of the unknown was too great
+for them, and they reckoned death as nothing if they could accomplish
+that on which they had set out.
+
+Two men above all attracted Alec Mackenzie's interest. One was Richard
+Burton, that mighty, enigmatic man, more admirable for what he was than
+for what he did; and the other was Livingstone, the greatest of African
+explorers. There was something very touching in the character of that
+gentle Scot. MacKenzie's enthusiasm was seldom very strong, but here was
+a man whom he would willingly have known; and he was strangely affected
+by the thought of his lonely death, and his grave in the midst of the
+Dark Continent he loved so well. On that, too, might have been written
+the epitaph which is on the tomb of Sir Christopher Wren.
+
+Finally he studied the works of Henry M. Stanley. Here the man excited
+neither admiration nor affection, but a cold respect. No one could help
+recognising the greatness of his powers. He was a man of Napoleonic
+instinct, who suited his means to his end, and ruthlessly fought his way
+until he had achieved it. His books were full of interest, and they were
+practical. From them much could be learned, and Alec studied them with
+a thoroughness which was in his nature.
+
+When he arose from this long perusal, his mind was made up. He had found
+his vocation.
+
+He did not disclose his plans to any of his friends till they were
+mature, and meanwhile set about seeing the people who could give him
+information. At last he sailed for Zanzibar, and started on a journey
+which was to try his powers. In a month he fell ill, and it was thought
+at the mission to which his bearers brought him that he could not live.
+For ten weeks he was at death's door, but he would not give in to the
+enemy. He insisted in the end on being taken back to the coast, and
+here, as if by a personal effort of will, he recovered. The season had
+passed for his expedition, and he was obliged to return to England. Most
+men would have been utterly discouraged, but Alec was only strengthened
+in his determination. He personified in a way that deadly climate and
+would not allow himself to be beaten by it. His short experience had
+shown him what he needed, and as soon as he was back in England he
+proceeded to acquire a smattering of medical knowledge, and some
+acquaintance with the sciences which were wanted by a traveller. He had
+immense powers of concentration, and in a year of tremendous labour
+acquired a working knowledge of botany and geology, and the elements of
+surveying; he learnt how to treat the maladies which were likely to
+attack people in tropical districts, and enough surgery to set a broken
+limb or to conduct a simple operation. He felt himself ready now for a
+considerable undertaking; but this time he meant to start from
+Mombassa.
+
+So far Lucy was able to go, partly from her own imaginings, and partly
+from what Dick had told her. He had given her the proceedings of the
+Royal Geographical Society, and here she found Alec MacKenzie's account
+of his wanderings during the five years that followed. The countries
+which he explored then, became afterwards British East Africa.
+
+But the bell rang for dinner, and so interrupted her meditations.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+They played bridge immediately afterwards. Mrs. Crowley looked upon
+conversation as a fine art, which could not be pursued while the body
+was engaged in the process of digestion; and she was of opinion that a
+game of cards agreeably diverted the mind and prepared the intellect for
+the quips and cranks which might follow when the claims of the body were
+satisfied. Lucy drew Alec MacKenzie as her partner, and so was able to
+watch his play when her cards were on the table. He did not play lightly
+as did Dick, who kept up a running commentary the whole time, but threw
+his whole soul into the game and never for a moment relaxed his
+attention. He took no notice of Dick's facetious observations. Presently
+Lucy grew more interested in his playing than in the game; she was
+struck, not only by his great gift of concentration, but by his
+boldness. He had a curious faculty for knowing almost from the beginning
+of a hand where each card lay. She saw, also, that he was plainly most
+absorbed when he was playing both hands himself; he was a man who liked
+to take everything on his own shoulders, and the division of
+responsibility irritated him.
+
+At the end of the rubber Dick flung himself back in his chair irritably.
+
+'I can't make it out,' he cried. 'I play much better than you, and I
+hold better hands, and yet you get the tricks.'
+
+Dick was known to be an excellent player, and his annoyance was
+excusable.
+
+'We didn't make a single mistake,' he assured his partner, 'and we
+actually had the odd in our hands, but not one of our finesses came off,
+and all his did.' He turned to Alec. 'How the dickens did you guess I
+had those two queens?'
+
+'Because I've known you for twenty years,' answered Alec, smiling. 'I
+know that, though you're impulsive and emotional, you're not without
+shrewdness; I know that your brain acts very quickly and sees all kinds
+of remote contingencies; then you're so pleased at having noticed them
+that you act as if they were certain to occur. Given these data, I can
+tell pretty well what cards you have, after they've gone round two or
+three times.'
+
+'The knowledge you have of your opponents' cards is too uncanny,' said
+Mrs. Crowley.
+
+'I can tell a good deal from people's faces. You see, in Africa I have
+had a lot of experience; it's apparently so much easier for the native
+to lie than to tell the truth that you get into the habit of paying no
+attention to what he says, and a great deal to the way he looks.'
+
+While Mrs. Crowley made herself comfortable in the chair, which she had
+already chosen as her favourite, Dick went over to the fire and stood in
+front of it in such a way as effectually to prevent the others from
+getting any of its heat.
+
+'What made you first take to exploration?' asked Mrs. Crowley suddenly.
+
+Alec gave her that slow, scrutinising look of his, and answered, with a
+smile:
+
+'I don't know. I had nothing to do and plenty of money.'
+
+'Not a bit of it,' interrupted Dick. 'A lunatic wanted to find out about
+some district that people had never been to, and it wouldn't have been
+any use to them if they had, because, if the natives didn't kill you,
+the climate made no bones about it. He came back crippled with fever,
+having failed in his attempt, and, after asserting that no one could get
+into the heart of Rofa's country and return alive, promptly gave up the
+ghost. So Alec immediately packed up his traps and made for the place.'
+
+'I proved the man was wrong,' said Alec quietly. 'I became great friends
+with Rofa, and he wanted to marry my sister, only I hadn't one.'
+
+'And if anyone said it was impossible to hop through Asia on one foot,
+you'd go and do it just to show it could be done,' retorted Dick 'You
+have a passion for doing things because they're difficult or dangerous,
+and, if they're downright impossible, you chortle with joy.'
+
+'You make me really too melodramatic,' smiled Alec.
+
+'But that's just what you are. You're the most transpontine person I
+ever saw in my life.' Dick turned to Lucy and Mrs. Crowley with a wave
+of the hand. 'I call you to witness. When he was at Oxford, Alec was a
+regular dab at classics; he had a gift for writing verses in languages
+that no one except dons wanted to read, and everyone thought that he was
+going to be the most brilliant scholar of his day.'
+
+'This is one of Dick's favourite stories,' said Alec. 'It would be quite
+amusing if there were any truth in it.'
+
+But Dick would not allow himself to be interrupted.
+
+'At mathematics, on the other hand, he was a perfect ass. You know, some
+people seem to have that part of their brains wanting that deals with
+figures, and Alec couldn't add two and two together without making a
+hexameter out of it. One day his tutor got in a passion with him and
+said he'd rather teach arithmetic to a brick wall. I happened to be
+present, and he was certainly very rude. He was a man who had a precious
+gift for making people feel thoroughly uncomfortable. Alec didn't say
+anything, but he looked at him; and, when he flies into a temper, he
+doesn't get red and throw things about like a pleasant, normal
+person--he merely becomes a little paler and stares at you.'
+
+'I beg you not to believe a single word he says,' remonstrated Alec.
+
+'Well, Alec threw over his classics. Everyone concerned reasoned with
+him; they appealed to his common sense; they were appealing to the most
+obstinate fool in Christendom. Alec had made up his mind to be a
+mathematician. For more than two years he worked ten hours a day at a
+subject he loathed; he threw his whole might into it and forced out of
+nature the gifts she had denied him, with the result that he got a first
+class. And much good it's done him.'
+
+Alec shrugged his shoulders.
+
+'It wasn't that I cared for mathematics, but it taught me to conquer the
+one inconvenient word in the English language.'
+
+'And what the deuce is that?'
+
+'I'm afraid it sounds very priggish,' laughed Alec. 'The word
+_impossible_.'
+
+Dick gave a little snort of comic rage.
+
+'And it also gave you a ghastly pleasure in doing things that hurt you.
+Oh, if you'd only been born in the Middle Ages, what a fiendish joy you
+would have taken in mortifying your flesh, and in denying yourself
+everything that makes life so good to live! You're never thoroughly
+happy unless you're making yourself thoroughly miserable.'
+
+'Each time I come back to England I find that you talk more and greater
+nonsense, Dick,' returned Alec drily.
+
+'I'm one of the few persons now alive who can talk nonsense,' answered
+his friend, laughing. 'That's why I'm so charming. Everyone else is so
+deadly earnest.'
+
+He settled himself down to make a deliberate speech.
+
+'I deplore the strenuousness of the world in general. There is an idea
+abroad that it is praiseworthy to do things, and what they are is of no
+consequence so long as you do them. I hate the mad hurry of the present
+day to occupy itself. I wish I could persuade people of the excellence
+of leisure.'
+
+'One could scarcely accuse you of cultivating it yourself,' said Lucy,
+smiling.
+
+Dick looked at her for a moment thoughtfully.
+
+'Do you know that I'm hard upon forty?'
+
+'With the light behind, you might still pass for thirty-two,'
+interrupted Mrs. Crowley.
+
+He turned to her seriously.
+
+'I haven't a grey hair on my head.'
+
+'I suppose your servant plucks them out every morning?'
+
+'Oh, no, very rarely; one a month at the outside.'
+
+'I think I see one just beside the left temple.'
+
+He turned quickly to the glass.
+
+'Dear me, how careless of Charles! I shall have to give him a piece of
+my mind.'
+
+'Come here, and let me take it out,' said Mrs. Crowley.
+
+'I will let you do nothing of the sort I should consider it most
+familiar.'
+
+'You were giving us the gratuitous piece of information that you were
+nearly forty,' said Alec.
+
+'The thought came to me the other day with something of a shock, and I
+set about a scrutiny of the life I was leading. I've worked at the bar
+pretty hard for fifteen years now, and I've been in the House since the
+general election. I've been earning two thousand a year, I've got nearly
+four thousand of my own, and I've never spent much more than half my
+income. I wondered if it was worth while to spend eight hours a day
+settling the sordid quarrels of foolish people, and another eight hours
+in the farce of governing the nation.'
+
+'Why do you call it that?'
+
+Dick Lomas shrugged his shoulders scornfully.
+
+'Because it is. A few big-wigs rule the roost, and the rest of us are
+only there to delude the British people into the idea that they're a
+self-governing community.'
+
+'What is wrong with you is that you have no absorbing aim in politics,'
+said Alec gravely.
+
+'Pardon me, I am a suffragist of the most vehement type,' answered Dick,
+with a thin smile.
+
+'That's the last thing I should have expected you to be,' said Mrs.
+Crowley, who dressed with admirable taste. 'Why on earth have you taken
+to that?'
+
+Dick shrugged his shoulders.
+
+'No one can have been through a parliamentary election without
+discovering how unworthy, sordid, and narrow are the reasons for which
+men vote. There are very few who are alive to the responsibilities that
+have been thrust upon them. They are indifferent to the importance of
+the stakes at issue, but make their vote a matter of ignoble barter. The
+parliamentary candidate is at the mercy of faddists and cranks. Now, I
+think that women, when they have votes, will be a trifle more narrow,
+and they will give them for motives that are a little more sordid and a
+little more unworthy. It will reduce universal suffrage to the absurd,
+and then it may be possible to try something else.'
+
+Dick had spoken with a vehemence that was unusual to him. Alec watched
+him with a certain interest.
+
+'And what conclusions have you come to?'
+
+For a moment he did not answer, then he gave a deprecating smile.
+
+'I feel that the step I want to take is momentous for me, though I am
+conscious that it can matter to nobody else whatever. There will be a
+general election in a few months, and I have made up my mind to inform
+the whips that I shall not stand again. I shall give up my chambers in
+Lincoln's Inn, put up the shutters, so to speak, and Mr. Richard Lomas
+will retire from active life.'
+
+'You wouldn't really do that?' cried Mrs. Crowley.
+
+'Why not?'
+
+'In a month complete idleness will simply bore you to death.'
+
+'I doubt it. Do you know, it seems to me that a great deal of nonsense
+is talked about the dignity of work. Work is a drug that dull people
+take to avoid the pangs of unmitigated boredom. It has been adorned with
+fine phrases, because it is a necessity to most men, and men always gild
+the pill they're obliged to swallow. Work is a sedative. It keeps people
+quiet and contented. It makes them good material for their leaders. I
+think the greatest imposture of Christian times is the sanctification of
+labour. You see, the early Christians were slaves, and it was necessary
+to show them that their obligatory toil was noble and virtuous. But when
+all is said and done, a man works to earn his bread and to keep his wife
+and children; it is a painful necessity, but there is nothing heroic in
+it. If people choose to put a higher value on the means than on the end,
+I can only pass with a shrug of the shoulders, and regret the paucity of
+their intelligence.'
+
+'It's really unfair to talk so much all at once,' said Mrs. Crowley,
+throwing up her pretty hands.
+
+But Dick would not be stopped.
+
+'For my part I have neither wife nor child, and I have an income that is
+more than adequate. Why should I take the bread out of somebody else's
+mouth? And it's not on my own merit that I get briefs--men seldom do--I
+only get them because I happen to have at the back of me a very large
+firm of solicitors. And I can find nothing worthy in attending to these
+foolish disputes. In most cases it's six of one and half a dozen of the
+other, and each side is very unjust and pig-headed. No, the bar is a
+fair way of earning your living like another, but it's no more than
+that; and, if you can exist without, I see no reason why Quixotic
+motives of the dignity of human toil should keep you to it. I've already
+told you why I mean to give up my seat in Parliament.'
+
+'Have you realised that you are throwing over a career that may be very
+brilliant? You should get an under-secretaryship in the next
+government.'
+
+'That would only mean licking the boots of a few more men
+whom I despise.'
+
+'It's a very dangerous experiment that you're making.'
+
+Dick looked straight into Alec MacKenzie's eyes.
+
+'And is it you who counsel me not to make it on that account?' he said,
+smiling. 'Surely experiments are only amusing if they're dangerous.'
+
+'And to what is it precisely that you mean to devote your time?' asked
+Mrs. Crowley.
+
+'I should like to make idleness a fine art,' he laughed. 'People,
+now-a-days, turn up their noses at the dilettante. Well, I mean to be a
+dilettante. I want to devote myself to the graces of life. I'm forty,
+and for all I know I haven't so very many years before me: in the time
+that remains, I want to become acquainted with the world and all the
+graceful, charming things it contains.'
+
+Alec, fallen into deep thought, stared into the fire. Presently he took
+a long breath, rose from his chair, and drew himself to his full height.
+
+'I suppose it's a life like another, and there is no one to say which is
+better and which is worse. But, for my part, I would rather go on till I
+dropped. There are ten thousand things I want to do. If I had ten lives
+I couldn't get through a tithe of what, to my mind, so urgently needs
+doing.'
+
+'And what do you suppose will be the end of it?' asked Dick.
+
+'For me?'
+
+Dick nodded, but did not otherwise reply. Alec smiled faintly.
+
+'Well, I suppose the end of it will be death in some swamp, obscurely,
+worn out with disease and exposure; and my bearers will make off with my
+guns and my stores, and the jackals will do the rest.'
+
+'I think it's horrible,' said Mrs. Crowley, with a shudder.
+
+'I'm a fatalist. I've lived too long among people with whom it is the
+deepest rooted article of their faith, to be anything else. When my time
+comes, I cannot escape it.' He smiled whimsically. 'But I believe in
+quinine, too, and I think that the daily use of that admirable drug will
+make the thread harder to cut.'
+
+To Lucy it was an admirable study, the contrast between the man who
+threw his whole soul into a certain aim, which he pursued with a savage
+intensity, knowing that the end was a dreadful, lonely death; and the
+man who was making up his mind deliberately to gather what was beautiful
+in life, and to cultivate its graces as though it were a flower garden.
+
+'And the worst of it is that it will all be the same in a hundred
+years,' said Dick. 'We shall both be forgotten long before then, you
+with your strenuousness, and I with my folly.'
+
+'And what conclusion do you draw from that?' asked Mrs. Crowley.
+
+'Only that the psychological moment has arrived for a whisky and soda.'
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+There was some rough shooting on the estate which Mrs. Crowley had
+rented, and next day Dick went out to see what he could find. Alec
+refused to accompany him.
+
+'I think shooting in England bores me a little,' he said. 'I have a
+prejudice against killing things unless I want to eat them, and these
+English birds are so tame that it seems to me rather like shooting
+chickens.'
+
+'I don't believe a word of it,' said Dick, as he set out. 'The fact is
+that you can't hit anything smaller than a hippopotamus, and you know
+that there is nothing here to suit you except Mrs. Crowley's cows.'
+
+After luncheon Alec MacKenzie asked Lucy if she would take a stroll with
+him. She was much pleased.
+
+'Where would you like to go?' she asked.
+
+'Let us walk by the sea.'
+
+She took him along a road called Joy Lane, which ran from the fishing
+town of Blackstable to a village called Waveney. The sea there had a
+peculiar vastness, and the salt smell of the breeze was pleasant to the
+senses. The flatness of the marsh seemed to increase the distances that
+surrounded them, and unconsciously Alec fell into a more rapid swing. It
+did not look as if he walked fast, but he covered the ground with the
+steady method of a man who has been used to long journeys, and it was
+good for Lucy that she was accustomed to much walking. At first they
+spoke of trivial things, but presently silence fell upon them. Lucy saw
+that he was immersed in thought, and she did not interrupt him. It
+amused her that, after asking her to walk with him, this odd man should
+take no pains to entertain her. Now and then he threw back his head with
+a strange, proud motion, and looked out to sea. The gulls, with their
+melancholy flight, were skimming upon the surface of the water. The
+desolation of that scene--it was the same which, a few days before, had
+rent poor Lucy's heart--appeared to enter his soul; but, strangely
+enough, it uplifted him, filling him with exulting thoughts. He
+quickened his pace, and Lucy, without a word, kept step with him. He
+seemed not to notice where they walked, and presently she led him away
+from the sea. They tramped along a winding road, between trim hedges and
+fertile fields; and the country had all the sweet air of Kent, with its
+easy grace and its comfortable beauty. They passed a caravan, with a
+shaggy horse browsing at the wayside, and a family of dinglers sitting
+around a fire of sticks. The sight curiously affected Lucy. The
+wandering life of those people, with no ties but to the ramshackle
+carriage which was their only home, their familiarity with the fields
+and with strange hidden places, filled her with a wild desire for
+freedom and for vast horizons. At last they came to the massive gates of
+Court Leys. An avenue of elms led to the house.
+
+'Here we are,' said Lucy, breaking the long silence.
+
+'Already?' He seemed to shake himself. 'I have to thank you for a
+pleasant stroll, and we've had a good talk, haven't we?'
+
+'Have we?' she laughed. She saw his look of surprise. 'For two hours
+you've not vouchsafed to make an observation.'
+
+'I'm so sorry,' he said, reddening under his tan. 'How rude you must
+have thought me! I've been alone so much that I've got out of the way of
+behaving properly.'
+
+'It doesn't matter at all,' she smiled. 'You must talk to me another
+time.'
+
+She was subtly flattered. She felt that, for him, it was a queer kind-of
+compliment that he had paid her. Their silent walk, she did not know
+why, seemed to have created a bond between them; and it appeared that he
+felt it, too, for afterwards he treated her with a certain intimacy. He
+seemed to look upon her no longer as an acquaintance, but as a friend.
+
+* * *
+
+A day or two later, Mrs. Crowley having suggested that they should drive
+into Tercanbury to see the cathedral, MacKenzie asked her if she would
+allow him to walk.
+
+He turned to Lucy.
+
+'I hardly dare to ask if you will come with me,' he said.
+
+'It would please me immensely.'
+
+'I will try to behave better than last time.'
+
+'You need not,' she smiled.
+
+Dick, who had an objection to walking when it was possible to drive, set
+out with Mrs. Crowley in a trap. Alec waited for Lucy. She went round to
+the stable to fetch a dog to accompany them, and, as she came towards
+him, he looked at her. Alec was a man to whom most of his fellows were
+abstractions. He saw them and talked to them, noting their
+peculiarities, but they were seldom living persons to him. They were
+shadows, as it were, that had to be reckoned with, but they never became
+part of himself. And it came upon him now with a certain shock of
+surprise to notice Lucy. He felt suddenly a new interest in her. He
+seemed to see her for the first time, and her rare beauty strangely
+moved him. In her serge dress and her gauntlets, with a motor cap and a
+flowing veil, a stick in her hand, she seemed on a sudden to express the
+country through which for the last two or three days he had wandered. He
+felt an unexpected pleasure in her slim erectness and in her buoyant
+step. There was something very charming in her blue eyes.
+
+He was seized with a great desire to talk. And, without thinking for an
+instant that what concerned him so intensely might be of no moment to
+her, he began forthwith upon the subject which was ever at his heart.
+But he spoke as his interest prompted, of each topic as it most absorbed
+him, starting with what he was now about and going back to what had
+first attracted his attention to that business; then telling his plans
+for the future, and to make them clear, finishing with the events that
+had led up to his determination. Lucy listened attentively, now and then
+asking a question; and presently the whole matter sorted itself in her
+mind, so that she was able to make a connected narrative of his life
+since the details of it had escaped from Dick's personal observation.
+
+* * *
+
+For some years Alec MacKenzie had travelled in Africa with no object
+beyond a great curiosity, and no ambition but that of the unknown. His
+first important expedition had been, indeed, occasioned by the failure
+of a fellow-explorer. He had undergone the common vicissitudes of
+African travel, illness and hunger, incredible difficulties of transit
+through swamps that seemed never ending, and tropical forest through
+which it was impossible to advance at the rate of more than one mile a
+day; he had suffered from the desertion of his bearers and the perfidy
+of native tribes. But at last he reached the country which had been the
+aim of his journey. He had to encounter then a savage king's determined
+hostility to the white man, and he had to keep a sharp eye on his
+followers who, in abject terror of the tribe he meant to visit, took
+every opportunity to escape into the bush. The barbarian chief sent him
+a warning that he would have him killed if he attempted to enter his
+capital. The rest of the story Alec told with an apologetic air, as if
+he were ashamed of himself, and he treated it with a deprecating humour
+that sought to minimise both the danger he had run and the courage he
+had displayed. On receiving the king's message, Alec MacKenzie took up a
+high tone, and returned the answer that he would come to the royal kraal
+before midday. He wanted to give the king no time to recover from his
+astonishment, and the messengers had scarcely delivered the reply before
+he presented himself, unarmed and unattended.
+
+'What did you say to him?' asked Lucy.
+
+'I asked him what the devil he meant by sending me such an impudent
+message,' smiled Alec.
+
+'Weren't you frightened?' said Lucy.
+
+'Yes,' he answered.
+
+He paused for a moment, and, as though unconsciously he were calling
+back the mood which had then seized him, he began to walk more slowly.
+
+'You see, it was the only thing to do. We'd about come to the end of our
+food, and we were bound to get some by hook or by crook. If we'd shown
+the white feather they would probably have set upon us without more ado.
+My own people were too frightened to make a fight of it, and we should
+have been wiped out like sheep. Then I had a kind of instinctive feeling
+that it would be all right. I didn't feel as if my time had come.'
+
+But, notwithstanding, for three hours his life had hung in the balance;
+and Lucy understood that it was only his masterful courage which had won
+the day and turned a sullen, suspicious foe into a warm ally.
+
+He achieved the object of his expedition, discovered a new species of
+antelope of which he was able to bring back to the Natural History
+Museum a complete skeleton and two hides; took some geographical
+observations which corrected current errors, and made a careful
+examination of the country. When he had learnt all that was possible,
+still on the most friendly terms with the ferocious ruler, he set out
+for Mombassa. He reached it in one month more than five years after he
+had left it.
+
+The results of this journey had been small enough, but Alec looked upon
+it as his apprenticeship. He had found his legs, and believed himself
+fit for much greater undertakings. He had learnt how to deal with
+natives, and was aware that he had a natural influence over them. He had
+confidence in himself. He had surmounted the difficulties of the
+climate, and felt himself more or less proof against fever and heat. He
+returned to the coast stronger than he had ever been in his life, and
+his enthusiasm for African travel increased tenfold. The siren had taken
+hold of him, and no escape now was possible.
+
+He spent a year in England, and then went back to Africa. He had
+determined now to explore certain districts to the northeast of the
+great lakes. They were in the hinterland of British East Africa, and
+England had a vague claim over them; but no actual occupation had taken
+place, and they formed a series of independent states under Arab emirs.
+He went this time with a roving commission from the government, and
+authority to make treaties with the local chieftains. Spending six years
+in these districts, he made a methodical survey of the country, and was
+able to prepare valuable maps. He collected an immense amount of
+scientific material. He studied the manners and customs of the
+inhabitants, and made careful observations on the political state. He
+found the whole land distracted with incessant warfare, and broad tracts
+of country, fertile and apt for the occupation of white men, given over
+to desolation. It was then that he realised the curse of slave-raiding,
+the abolition of which was to become the great object of his future
+activity. His strength was small, and, anxious not to arouse at once the
+enmity of the Arab slavers, he had to use much diplomacy in order to
+establish himself in the country. He knew himself to be an object of
+intense suspicion, and he could not trust even the petty rulers who were
+bound to him by ties of gratitude and friendship. For some time the
+sultan of the most powerful state kept him in a condition bordering on
+captivity, and at one period his life was for a year in the greatest
+danger. He never knew from day to day whether he would see the setting
+of the sun. The Arab, though he treated him with honour, would not let
+him go; and, at last, Alec, seizing an opportunity when the sultan was
+engaged in battle with a brother who sought to usurp his sovereignty,
+fled for his life, abandoning his property, and saving only his notes,
+his specimens, and his guns.
+
+When MacKenzie reached England, he laid before the Foreign Office the
+result of his studies. He pointed out the state of anarchy to which the
+constant slave-raiding had reduced this wealthy country, and implored
+those in authority, not only for the sake of humanity, but for the
+prestige of the country, to send an expedition which should stamp out
+the murderous traffic. He offered to accompany this in any capacity;
+and, so long as he had the chance of assisting in a righteous war,
+agreed to serve under any leader they chose. His knowledge of the
+country and his influence over its inhabitants were indispensable. He
+guaranteed that, if they gave him a certain number of guns with three
+British officers, the whole affair could be settled in a year.
+
+But the government was crippled by the Boer War; and though,
+appreciating the strength of his arguments, it realised the necessity of
+intervention, was disinclined to enter upon fresh enterprises. These
+little expeditions in Africa had a way of developing into much more
+important affairs than first appeared. They had been taught bitter
+lessons before now, and could not risk, in the present state of things,
+even an insignificant rebuff. If they sent out a small party, which was
+defeated, it would be a great blow to the prestige of the country
+through Africa--the Arabs would carry the news to India--and it would be
+necessary, then, to despatch such a force that failure was impossible.
+To supply this there was neither money nor men.
+
+Alec was put off with one excuse after another. To him it seemed that
+hindrances were deliberately set in his way, and in fact the relations
+of England with the rest of Europe made his small schemes appear an
+intolerable nuisance. At length he was met with a flat refusal.
+
+But Alec MacKenzie could not rest with this, and opposition only made
+him more determined to carry his business through. He understood that it
+was hard at second hand to make men realise the state of things in that
+distant land. But he had seen horrors beyond description. He knew the
+ruthless cruelty of the slave-raiders, and in his ears rang, still, the
+cries of agony when a village was set on fire and attacked by the Arabs.
+Not once, nor twice, but many times he had left some tiny kraal nestling
+sweetly among its fields of maize, an odd, savage counterpart to the
+country hamlet described in prim, melodious numbers by the gentle
+Goldsmith: the little naked children were playing merrily; the women sat
+in groups grinding their corn and chattering; the men worked in the
+fields or lounged idly about the hut doors. It was a charming scene. You
+felt that here, perhaps, one great mystery of life had been solved; for
+happiness was on every face, and the mere joy of living was a sufficient
+reason for existence. And, when he returned, the village was a pile of
+cinders, smoking still; here and there were lying the dead and wounded;
+on one side he recognised a chubby boy with a great spear wound in his
+body; on another was a woman with her face blown away by some clumsy
+gun; and there a man in the agony of death, streaming with blood, lay
+heaped upon the ground in horrible disorder. And the rest of the
+inhabitants had been hurried away pellmell on the cruel journey across
+country, brutally treated and half starved, till they could be delivered
+into the hands of the slave merchant.
+
+Alec MacKenzie went to the Foreign Office once more. He was willing to
+take the whole business on himself, and asked only for a commission to
+raise troops at his own expense. Timorous secretaries did not know into
+what difficulties this determined man might lead them, and if he went
+with the authority of an official, but none of his responsibilities, he
+might land them in grave complications. The spheres of influence of the
+continental powers must be respected, and at this time of all others it
+was necessary to be very careful of national jealousies. Alec MacKenzie
+was told that if he went he must go as a private person. No help could
+be given him, and the British Government would not concern itself, even
+indirectly, with his enterprise. Alec had expected the reply and was not
+dissatisfied. If the government would not undertake the matter itself,
+he preferred to manage it without the hindrance of official restraints.
+And so this solitary man made up his mind, single handed, to crush the
+slave traffic in a district larger than England, and to wage war,
+unassisted, with a dozen local chieftains and against twenty thousand
+fighting men The attempt seemed Quixotic, but Alec had examined the
+risks and was willing to take them. He had on his side a thorough
+knowledge of the country, a natural power over the natives, and some
+skill in managing them. He was accustomed now to the diplomacy which was
+needful, and he was well acquainted with the local politics.
+
+He did not think it would be hard to collect a force on the coast, and
+there were plenty of hardy, adventurous fellows who would volunteer to
+officer the native levies, if he had money to pay them. Ready money was
+essential, so he crossed the Atlantic and sold his estate in Texas; he
+made arrangements to raise a further sum, if necessary, on the income
+which his colliery in Lancashire brought him. He engaged a surgeon, whom
+he had known for some years, and could trust in an emergency, and then
+sailed for Zanzibar, where he expected to find white men willing to take
+service under him. At Mombassa he collected the bearers who had been
+with him during his previous expeditions, and, his fame among the
+natives being widely spread, he was able to take his pick of those best
+suited for his purpose. His party consisted altogether of over three
+hundred.
+
+When he arrived upon the scene of his operations, everything for a time
+went well. He showed great skill in dividing his enemies. The petty
+rulers were filled with jealousy of one another and eager always to fall
+upon their friends, when slave-raiding for a season was unsuccessful.
+Alec's plan was to join two or three smaller states in an attack upon
+the most powerful of them all, to crush this completely, and then to
+take his old allies one by one, if they would not guarantee to give up
+their raids on peaceful tribes. His influence with the natives was such
+that he felt certain it was possible to lead them into action against
+their dreaded foes, the Arabs, if he was once able to give them
+confidence. Everything turned out as he had hoped.
+
+The great state which had aimed at the hegemony of the whole district
+was defeated; and Alec, with the method habitual to him, set about
+organising each strip of territory which was reclaimed from barbarism.
+He was able to hold in check the emirs who had fought with him, and a
+sharp lesson given to one who had broken faith with him, struck terror
+in the others. The land was regaining its old security. Alec trusted
+that in five years a man would be able to travel from end to end of it
+as safely as in England. But suddenly everything he had achieved was
+undone. As sometimes happens in countries of small civilisation, a
+leader arose from among the Arabs. None knew from where he sprang, and
+it was said that he had been a camel driver. He was called Mohammed the
+Lame, because a leg badly set after a fracture had left him halting, and
+he was a shrewd man, far-seeing, ruthless, and ambitious. With a few
+companions as desperate as himself, he attacked the capital of a small
+state in the North which was distracted by the death of its ruler,
+seized it, and proclaimed himself king.
+
+In a year he had brought under his sway all those shadowy lands which
+border upon Abyssinia, and was leading a great rabble, mad with the lust
+of conquest, fanatic with hatred of the Christian, upon the South.
+Consternation reigned among the tribes to whom MacKenzie was the only
+hope of salvation. He pointed out to the Arabs who had accepted his
+influence, that their safety, as well as his, lay in resistance to the
+Lame One; but the war cry of the Prophet prevailed against the call of
+reason, and he found that they were against him to a man. His native
+allies were faithful, with the fidelity of despair, and these he brought
+up against the enemy. A pitched battle was fought, but the issue was
+undecided. The losses were great on both sides, and Alec was himself
+badly wounded.
+
+Fortunately the wet season was approaching, and Mohammed the Lame, with
+a wholesome respect for the white man who for the moment, at least, had
+checked his onward course, withdrew to the Northern regions where his
+power was more secure. Alec knew that he would resume the attack at the
+first opportunity, and he knew also that he had not the means to
+withstand a foe who was astute and capable. His only chance was to get
+back to the coast, return to England, and try again to interest the
+government in the undertaking; if they still refused help he determined
+to go out once more himself, taking this time Maxim guns and men capable
+of handling them. He knew that his departure would seem like flight, but
+he could not help that. He was obliged to go. His wound prevented him
+from walking, but he caused himself to be carried; and, firing his
+caravan with his own indomitable spirit, he reached the coast by forced
+marches.
+
+His brief visit to England was already drawing to its close, and, in
+less than a month now, he proposed to set out for Africa once more. This
+time he meant to finish the work. If only his life were spared, he would
+crush for ever the infamous trade which turned a paradise into a
+wilderness.
+
+Alec stopped speaking as they entered the cathedral close, and they
+paused for a moment to look at the stately pile. The trim lawns that
+surrounded it, in a manner enhanced its serene majesty. They entered the
+nave. There was a vast and solemn stillness. And there was something
+subtly impressive in the naked space; it uplifted the heart, and one
+felt a kind of scorn for all that was mean and low. The soaring of the
+Gothic columns, with their straight simplicity, raised the thoughts to a
+nobler standard. And, though that place had been given for three hundred
+years to colder rites, the atmosphere of an earlier, more splendid faith
+seemed still to cling to it. A vague odour of a spectral incense hung
+about the pillars, a sweet, sad smell, and the shadows of ghostly
+priests in vestments of gold, and with embroidered copes, wound in a
+long procession through the empty aisles.
+
+Lucy was glad that they had come there, and the restful grandeur of the
+place fitted in with the emotions that had filled her mind during the
+walk from Blackstable. Her spirit was enlarged, and she felt that her
+own small worries were petty. The consciousness came to her that the man
+with whom she had been speaking was making history, and she was
+fascinated by the fulness of his life and the greatness of his
+undertakings. Her eyes were dazzled with the torrid African sun which
+had shone through his words, and she felt the horror of the primeval
+forest and the misery of the unending swamps. And she was proud because
+his outlook was so clear, because he bore his responsibilities so
+easily, because his plans were so vast. She looked at him. He was
+standing by her side, and his eyes were upon her. She felt the colour
+rise to her cheeks, she knew not why, and in embarrassment looked down.
+
+By some chance they missed Dick Lomas and Mrs. Crowley. Neither was
+sorry. When they left the cathedral and started for home, they spoke for
+a while of indifferent things. It seemed that Alec's tongue was
+loosened, and he was glad of it. Lucy knew instinctively that he had
+never talked to anyone as he talked to her, and she was curiously
+flattered.
+
+But it seemed to both of them that the conversation could not proceed on
+the strenuous level on which it had been during the walk into
+Tercanbury, and they fell upon a gay discussion of their common
+acquaintance. Alec was a man of strong passions, hating fools fiercely,
+and he had a sardonic manner of gibing at persons he despised, which
+caused Lucy much amusement.
+
+He described interviews with the great ones of the land in a broadly
+comic spirit; and, when telling an amusing story, he had a way of
+assuming a Scottish drawl that added vastly to its humour.
+
+Presently they began to speak of books. Being strictly limited as to
+number, he was obliged to choose for his expeditions works which could
+stand reading an indefinite number of times.
+
+'I'm like a convict,' he said. 'I know Shakespeare by heart, and I've
+read Boswell's _Johnson_ till I think you couldn't quote a line which I
+couldn't cap with the next.'
+
+But Lucy was surprised to hear that he read the Greek classics with
+enthusiasm. She had vaguely imagined that people recognised their
+splendour, but did not read them unless they were dons or
+schoolmasters, and it was strange to find anyone for whom they were
+living works. To Alec they were a deliberate inspiration. They
+strengthened his purpose and helped him to see life from the heroic
+point of view. He was not a man who cared much for music or for
+painting; his whole aesthetic desires were centred in the Greek poets and
+the historians. To him Thucydides was a true support, and he felt in
+himself something of the spirit which had animated the great Athenian.
+His blood ran faster as he spoke of him, and his cheeks flushed. He felt
+that one who lived constantly in such company could do nothing base. But
+he found all he needed, put together with a power that seemed almost
+divine, within the two covers that bound his Sophocles. The mere look of
+the Greek letters filled him with exultation. Here was all he wanted,
+strength and simplicity, and the greatness of life, and beauty.
+
+He forgot that Lucy did not know that dead language and could not share
+his enthusiasm. He broke suddenly into a chorus from the _Antigone_; the
+sonorous, lovely words issued from his lips, and Lucy, not
+understanding, but feeling vaguely the beauty of the sounds, thought
+that his voice had never been more fascinating. It gained now a peculiar
+and entrancing softness. She had never dreamed that it was capable of
+such tenderness.
+
+At last they reached Court Leys and walked up the avenue that led to the
+house. They saw Dick hurrying towards them. They waved their hands, but
+he did not reply, and, when he approached, they saw that his face was
+white and anxious.
+
+'Thank God, you've come at last! I couldn't make out what had come to
+you.'
+
+'What's the matter?'
+
+The barrister, all his flippancy gone, turned to Lucy.
+
+'Bobbie Boulger has come down. He wants to see you. Please come at
+once.'
+
+Lucy looked at him quickly. Sick with fear, she followed him into the
+drawing-room.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+Mrs. Crowley and Robert Boulger were standing by the fire, and there was
+a peculiar agitation about them. They were silent, but it seemed to Lucy
+that they had been speaking of her. Mrs. Crowley impulsively seized her
+hands and kissed her. Lucy's first thought was that something had
+happened to her brother. Lady Kelsey's generous allowance had made it
+possible for him to hunt, and the thought flashed through her that some
+terrible accident had happened.
+
+'Is anything the matter with George?' she asked, with a gasp of terror.
+
+'No,' answered Boulger.
+
+The colour came to Lucy's cheeks as she felt a sudden glow of relief.
+
+'Thank God,' she murmured. 'I was so frightened.'
+
+She gave him, now, a smile of welcome as she shook hands with him. It
+could be nothing so very dreadful after all.
+
+Lucy's uncle, Sir George Boulger, had been for many years senior partner
+in the great firm of Boulger & Kelsey. After sitting in Parliament for
+the quarter of a century and voting assiduously for his party, he had
+been given a baronetcy on the celebration of Queen Victoria's second
+Jubilee, and had finished a prosperous life by dying of apoplexy at the
+opening of a park, which he was presenting to the nation. He had been a
+fine type of the wealthy merchant, far-sighted in business affairs and
+proud to serve his native city in every way open to him. His son,
+Robert, now reigned in his stead, but the firm had been made into a
+company, and the responsibility that he undertook, notwithstanding that
+the greater number of shares were in his hands, was much less. The
+partner who had been taken into the house on Sir Alfred Kelsey's death
+now managed the more important part of the business in Manchester, while
+Robert, brought up by his father to be a man of affairs, had taken
+charge of the London branch. Commerce was in his blood, and he settled
+down to work with praiseworthy energy. He had considerable shrewdness,
+and it was plain that he would eventually become as good a merchant as
+his father. He was little older than Lucy, but his fair hair and his
+clean-shaven face gave him a more youthful look. With his spruce air and
+well-made clothes, his conversation about hunting and golf, few would
+have imagined that he arrived regularly at his office at ten in the
+morning, and was as keen to make a good bargain as any of the men he
+came in contact with.
+
+Lucy, though very fond of him, was mildly scornful of his Philistine
+outlook. He cared nothing for books, and the only form of art that
+appealed to him was the musical comedy. She treated him as a rule with
+pleasant banter and refused to take him seriously. It required a good
+deal of energy to keep their friendship on a light footing, for she knew
+that he had been in love with her since he was eighteen. She could not
+help feeling flattered, though on her side there was no more than the
+cousinly affection due to their having been thrown together all their
+lives, and she was aware that they were little suited to one another. He
+had proposed to her a dozen times, and she was obliged to use many
+devices to protect herself from his assiduity. It availed nothing to
+tell him that she did not love him. He was only too willing to marry her
+on whatever conditions she chose to make. Her friends and her relations
+were anxious that she should accept him. Lady Kelsey had reasoned with
+her. Here was a man whom she had known always and could trust utterly;
+he had ten thousand a year, an honest heart, and a kindly disposition.
+Her father, seeing in the match a resource in his constant difficulties,
+was eager that she should take the boy, and George, who was devoted to
+him, had put in his word, too. Bobbie had asked her to marry him when he
+was twenty-one, and again when she was twenty-one, when George went to
+Oxford, when her father went into bankruptcy, and when Hamlyn's Purlieu
+was sold. He had urged his own father to buy it, when it was known that
+a sale was inevitable, hoping that the possession of it would incline
+Lucy's heart towards him; but the first baronet was too keen a man of
+business to make an unprofitable investment for sentimental reasons.
+Bobbie had proposed for the last time when he succeeded to the baronetcy
+and a large fortune. Lucy recognised his goodness and the advantages of
+the match, but she did not care for him. She felt, too, that she needed
+a free hand to watch over her father and George. Even Mrs. Crowley's
+suggestion that with her guidance Robert Boulger might become a man of
+consequence, did not move her. Bobbie, on the other hand, had set all
+his heart on marrying his cousin. It was the supreme interest of his
+life, and he hoped that his patience would eventually triumph over every
+obstacle. He was willing to wait.
+
+When Lucy's first alarm was stayed, it occurred to her that Bobbie had
+come once more to ask her the eternal question, but the anxious look in
+his eyes drove the idea away. His pleasant, boyish expression was
+overcast with gravity; Mrs. Crowley flung herself in a chair and turned
+her face away.
+
+'I have something to tell you which is very terrible, Lucy,' he said.
+
+The effort he made to speak was noticeable. His voice was strained by
+the force with which he kept it steady.
+
+'Would you like me to leave you?' asked Alec, who had accompanied Lucy
+into the drawing-room.
+
+She gave him a glance. It seemed to her that whatever it was, his
+presence would help her to bear it.
+
+'Do you wish to see me alone, Bobbie?'
+
+'I've already told Dick and Mrs. Crowley.'
+
+'What is it?' she asked.
+
+Bobbie gave Dick an appealing look. It seemed too hard that he should
+have to break the awful news to her. He had not the heart to give her so
+much pain. And yet he had hurried down to the country so that he might
+soften the blow by his words: he would not trust to the callous cruelty
+of a telegram. Dick saw the agitation which made his good-humoured mouth
+twitch with pain, and stepped forward.
+
+'Your father has been arrested for fraud,' he said gravely.
+
+For a moment no one spoke. The silence was intolerable to Mrs. Crowley,
+and she inveighed inwardly against the British stolidity. She could not
+look at Lucy, but the others, full of sympathy, kept their eyes upon
+her. Mrs. Crowley wondered why she did not faint. It seemed to Lucy
+that an icy hand clutched her heart so that the blood was squeezed out
+of it. She made a determined effort to keep her clearness of mind.
+
+'It's impossible,' she said at last, quietly.
+
+'He was arrested last night, and brought up at Bow Street Police Court
+this morning. He was remanded for a week.'
+
+Lucy felt the tears well up to her eyes, but with all her strength she
+forced them back. She collected her thoughts.
+
+'It was very good of you to come down and tell me,' she said to Boulger
+gently.
+
+'The magistrate agreed to accept bail in five thousand pounds. Aunt
+Alice and I have managed it between us.'
+
+'Is he staying with Aunt Alice now?'
+
+'No, he wouldn't do that. He's gone to his flat in Shaftesbury Avenue.'
+
+Lucy's thoughts went to the lad who was dearest to her in the world, and
+her heart sank.
+
+'Does George know?'
+
+'Not yet.'
+
+Dick saw the relief that came into her face, and thought he divined what
+was in her mind.
+
+'But he must be told at once,' he said. 'He's sure to see something
+about it in the papers. We had better wire to him to come to London
+immediately.'
+
+'Surely father could have shown in two minutes that the whole thing was
+a mistake.'
+
+Bobbie made a hopeless gesture. He saw the sternness of her eyes, and he
+had not the heart to tell her the truth. Mrs. Crowley began to cry.
+
+'You don't understand, Lucy,' said Dick. 'I'm afraid it's a very serious
+charge. Your father will be committed for trial.'
+
+'You know just as well as I do that father can't have done anything
+illegal. He's weak and rash, but he's no more than that. He would as
+soon think of doing anything wrong as of flying to the moon. If in his
+ignorance of business he's committed some technical offence, he can
+easily show that it was unintentional.'
+
+'Whatever it is, he'll have to stand his trial at the Old Bailey,'
+answered Dick gravely.
+
+He saw that Lucy did not for a moment appreciate the gravity of her
+father's position. After the first shock of dismay she was disposed to
+think that there could be nothing in it. Robert Boulger saw there was
+nothing for it but to tell her everything.
+
+'Your father and a man called Saunders have been running a bucketshop
+under the name of Vernon and Lawford. They were obliged to trade under
+different names, because Uncle Fred is an undischarged bankrupt, and
+Saunders is the sort of man who only uses his own name on the charge
+sheet of a police court.'
+
+'Do you know what a bucketshop is, Lucy?' asked Dick.
+
+He did not wait for a reply, but explained that it was a term used to
+describe a firm of outside brokers whose dealings were more or less
+dishonest.
+
+'The action is brought against the pair of them by a Mrs. Sabidon, who
+accuses them of putting to their own uses various sums amounting
+altogether to more than eight thousand pounds, which she intrusted to
+them to invest.'
+
+Now that the truth was out, Lucy quailed before it. The intense
+seriousness on the faces of Alec and Dick Lomas, the piteous anxiety of
+her cousin, terrified her.
+
+'You don't think there's anything in it?' she asked quickly.
+
+Robert did not know what to answer. Dick interrupted with wise advice.
+
+'We'll hope for the best. The only thing to do is to go up to London at
+once and get the best legal advice.'
+
+But Lucy would not allow herself, even for a moment, to doubt her
+father. Now that she thought of the matter, she saw that it was absurd.
+She forced herself to give a laugh.
+
+'I'm quite reassured. You don't think for a moment that father would
+deliberately steal somebody else's money. And it's nothing short of
+theft.'
+
+'At all events it's something that we've been able to get him released
+on bail. It will make it so much easier to arrange the defence.'
+
+A couple of hours later Lucy, accompanied by Dick Lomas and Bobbie, was
+on her way to London. Alec, thinking his presence would be a nuisance to
+them, arranged with Mrs. Crowley to leave by a later train; and, when
+the time came for him to start, his hostess suddenly announced that she
+would go with him. With her party thus broken up and her house empty,
+she could not bear to remain at Court Leys. She was anxious about Lucy
+and eager to be at hand if her help were needed.
+
+* * *
+
+A telegram had been sent to George, and it was supposed that he would
+arrive at Lady Kelsey's during the evening. Lucy wanted to tell him
+herself what had happened. But she could not wait till then to see her
+father, and persuaded Dick to drive with her from the station to
+Shaftesbury Avenue. Fred Allerton was not in. Lucy wanted to go into the
+flat and stay there till he came, but the porter had no key and did not
+know when he would return. Dick was much relieved. He was afraid that
+the excitement and the anxiety from which Fred Allerton had suffered,
+would have caused him to drink heavily; and he could not let Lucy see
+him the worse for liquor. He induced her, after leaving a note to say
+that she would call early next morning, to go quietly home. When they
+arrived at Charles Street, where was Lady Kelsey's house, they found a
+wire from George to say he could not get up to town till the following
+day.
+
+To Lucy this had, at least, the advantage that she could see her father
+alone, and at the appointed hour she made her way once more to his flat.
+He took her in his arms and kissed her warmly. She succumbed at once to
+the cheeriness of his manner.
+
+'I can only give you two minutes, darling,' he said. 'I'm full of
+business, and I have an appointment with my solicitor at eleven.'
+
+Lucy could not speak. She clung to her father, looking at him with
+anxious, sombre eyes; but he laughed and patted her hand.
+
+'You mustn't make too much of all this, my love,' he said brightly.
+'These little things are always liable to happen to a man of business;
+they are the perils of the profession, and we have to put up with them,
+just as kings and queens have to put up with bomb-shells.'
+
+'There's no truth in it, father?'
+
+She did not want to ask that wounding question, but the words slipped
+from her lips against her will. He broke away from her.
+
+'Truth? My dear child, what do you mean? You don't suppose I'm the man
+to rob the widow and the orphan? Of course, there's no truth in it.'
+
+'Oh, I'm so glad to hear that,' she exclaimed, with a deep sigh of
+relief.
+
+'Have they been frightening you?'
+
+Lucy flushed under his frank look of amusement. She felt that there was
+a barrier between herself and him, the barrier that had existed for
+years, and there was something in his manner which filled her with
+unaccountable anxiety. She would not analyse that vague emotion. It was
+a dread to see what was so carefully hidden by that breezy reserve. She
+forced herself to go on.
+
+'I know that you're often carried away by your fancies, and I thought
+you might have got into an ambiguous position.'
+
+'I can honestly say that no one can bring anything up against me,' he
+answered. 'But I do blame myself for getting mixed up with that man
+Saunders. I'm afraid there's no doubt that he's a wrong 'un--and heaven
+only knows what he's been up to--but for my own part I give you my
+solemn word of honour that I've done nothing, absolutely nothing, that I
+have the least reason to be ashamed of.'
+
+Lucy took his hand, and a charming smile lit up her face.
+
+'Oh, father, you've made me so happy by saying that. Now I shall be able
+to tell George that there's nothing to worry about.'
+
+Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Dick. Fred Allerton
+greeted him heartily.
+
+'You've just come in time to take Lucy home. I've got to go out. But
+look here, George is coming up, isn't he? Let us all lunch at the
+_Carlton_ at two, and get Alice to come. We'll have a jolly little meal
+together.'
+
+Dick was astounded to see the lightness with which Allerton took the
+affair. He seemed unconscious of the gravity of his position and
+unmindful of the charge which was hanging over him. Dick was not anxious
+to accept the invitation, but Allerton would hear of no excuses. He
+wanted to have his friends gathered around him, and he needed relaxation
+after the boredom of spending a morning in his lawyer's office.
+
+'Come on,' he said. 'I can't wait another minute.'
+
+He opened the door, and Lucy walked out. It seemed to Dick that Allerton
+was avoiding any chance of conversation with him. But no man likes to
+meet his creditor within four walls, and this disinclination might be
+due merely to the fact that Allerton owed him a couple of hundred
+pounds. But he meant to get in one or two words.
+
+'Are you fixed up with a solicitor?' he asked.
+
+'Do you think I'm a child, Dick?' answered the other. 'Why, I've got the
+smartest man in the whole profession, Teddie Blakeley--you know him,
+don't you?'
+
+'Only by reputation,' answered Dick drily. 'I should think that was
+enough for most people.'
+
+Fred Allerton gave that peculiarly honest laugh of his, which was so
+attractive. Dick knew that the solicitor he mentioned was a man of evil
+odour, who had made a specialty of dealing with the most doubtful sort
+of commercial work, and his name had been prominent in every scandal for
+the last fifteen years. It was surprising that he had never followed any
+of his clients to the jail he richly deserved.
+
+'I thought it no good going to one of the old crusted family solicitors.
+I wanted a man who knew the tricks of the trade.'
+
+They were walking down the stairs, while Lucy waited at the bottom. Dick
+stopped and turned round. He looked at Allerton keenly.
+
+'You're not going to do a bolt, are you?'
+
+Allerton's face lit up with amusement. He put his hands on Dick's
+shoulders.
+
+'My dear old Dick, don't be such an ass. I don't know about
+Saunders--he's a fishy sort of customer--but I shall come out of all
+this with flying colours. The prosecution hasn't a leg to stand on.'
+
+Allerton, reminding them that they were to lunch together, jumped into a
+cab. Lucy and Dick walked slowly back to Charles Street. Dick was very
+silent. He had not seen Fred Allerton for some time and was surprised to
+see that he had regained his old smartness. The flat had pretty things
+in it which testified to the lessee's taste and to his means, and the
+clothes he wore were new and well-cut. The invitation to the _Carlton_
+showed that he was in no want of ready money, and there was a general
+air of prosperity about him which gave Dick much to think of.
+
+Lucy did not ask him to come in, since George, by now, must have
+arrived, and she wished to see him alone. They agreed to meet again at
+two. As she shook hands with Dick, Lucy told him what her father had
+said.
+
+'I had a sleepless night,' she said. 'It was so stupid of me; I couldn't
+get it out of my head that father, unintentionally, had done something
+rash or foolish; but I've got his word of honour that nothing is the
+matter, and I feel as if a whole world of anxiety were suddenly lifted
+from my shoulders.'
+
+* * *
+
+The party at the _Carlton_ was very gay. Fred Allerton seemed in the
+best of spirits, and his good-humour was infectious. He was full of
+merry quips. Lucy had made as little of the affair as possible to
+George. Her eyes rested on him, as he sat opposite to her, and she felt
+happy and proud. Now and then he looked at her, and an affectionate
+smile came to his lips. She was delighted with his slim handsomeness.
+There was a guileless look in his blue eyes which was infinitely
+attractive. His mouth was beautifully modelled. She took an immense
+pride in the candour of soul which shone with so clear a light on his
+face, and she was affected as a stranger might have been by the
+exquisite charm of manner which he had inherited from his father. She
+wanted to have him to herself that evening and suggested that they
+should go to a play together. He accepted the idea eagerly, for he
+admired his sister with all his heart; he felt in himself a need for
+protection, and she was able to minister to this. He was never so happy
+as when he was by her side. He liked to tell her all he did, and, when
+she fired him with noble ambitions, he felt capable of anything.
+
+They were absurdly light-hearted, as they started on their little jaunt.
+Lady Kelsey had slipped a couple of banknotes into George's hand and
+told them to have a good time. They dined at the _Carlton_, went to a
+musical comedy, which amused Lucy because her brother laughed so
+heartily--she was fascinated by his keen power of enjoyment--and
+finished by going to the _Savoy_ for supper. For the moment all her
+anxieties seemed to fall from her, and the years of trouble were
+forgotten. She was as merry and as irresponsible as George. He was
+enchanted. He had never seen Lucy so tender and so gay; there was a new
+brilliancy in her eyes; and, without quite knowing what it was that
+differed, he found a soft mellowness in her laughter which filled him
+with an uncomprehended delight. Neither did Lucy know why the world on a
+sudden seemed fuller than it had ever done before, nor why the future
+smiled so kindly: it never occurred to her that she was in love.
+
+When Lucy, exhausted but content, found herself at length in her room,
+she thanked God for the happiness of the evening. It was the last time
+she could do that for many weary years.
+
+* * *
+
+A few days later Allerton appeared again at the police court, and the
+magistrate, committing him for trial, declined to renew his bail. The
+prisoner was removed in custody.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+During the fortnight that followed, Alec spent much time with Lucy.
+Together, in order to cheat the hours that hung so heavily on her hands,
+they took long walks in Hyde Park, and, when Alec's business permitted,
+they went to the National Gallery. Then he took her to the Natural
+History Museum, and his conversation, in face of the furred and
+feathered things from Africa, made the whole country vivid to her. Lucy
+was very grateful to him because he drew her mind away from the topic
+that constantly absorbed it. Though he never expressed his sympathy in
+so many words, she felt it in every inflection of his voice. His
+patience was admirable.
+
+At last came the day fixed for the trial.
+
+Fred Allerton insisted that neither Lucy nor George should come to the
+Old Bailey, and they were to await the verdict at Lady Kelsey's. Dick
+and Robert Boulger were subpoenaed as witnesses. In order that she might
+be put out of her suspense quickly, Lucy asked Alec MacKenzie to go into
+court and bring her the result as soon as it was known.
+
+The morning passed with leaden feet.
+
+After luncheon Mrs. Crowley came to sit with Lady Kelsey, and together
+they watched the minute hand go round the clock. Now the verdict might
+be expected at any moment. After some time Canon Spratte, the vicar of
+the church which Lady Kelsey attended, sent up to ask if he might see
+her; and Mrs. Crowley, thinking to distract her, asked him to come in.
+The Canon's breezy courtliness as a rule soothed Lady Kelsey's gravest
+troubles, but now she would not be comforted.
+
+'I shall never get over it,' she said, with a handkerchief to her eyes.
+'I shall never cease blaming myself. Nothing of all this would have
+happened, if it hadn't been for me.'
+
+Canon Spratte and Mrs. Crowley watched her without answering. She was a
+stout, amiable woman, who had clothed herself in black because the
+occasion was tragic. Grief had made her garrulous.
+
+'Poor Fred came to me one day and said he must have eight thousand
+pounds at once. He told me his partner had cheated him, and it was a
+matter of life and death. But it was such a large sum, and I've given
+him so much already. After all, I've got to think of Lucy and George.
+They only have me to depend on, and I refused to give it. Oh, I'd have
+given every penny I own rather than have this horrible shame.'
+
+'You mustn't take it too much to heart, Lady Kelsey,' said Mrs. Crowley.
+'It will soon be all over.'
+
+'Our ways have parted for some time now,' said Canon Spratte, 'but at
+one period I used to see a good deal of Fred Allerton. I can't tell you
+how distressed I was to hear of this terrible misfortune.'
+
+'He's always been unlucky,' returned Lady Kelsey. 'I only hope this will
+be a lesson to him. He's like a child in business matters. Oh, it's
+awful to think of my poor sister's husband standing in the felon's
+dock!'
+
+'You must try not to think of it. I'm sure everything will turn out
+quite well. In another hour you'll have him with you again.'
+
+The Canon got up and shook hands with Lady Kelsey.
+
+'It was so good of you to come,' she said.
+
+He turned to Mrs. Crowley, whom he liked because she was American, rich,
+and a widow.
+
+'I'm grateful, too,' she murmured, as she bade him farewell. 'A
+clergyman always helps one so much to bear other people's misfortunes.'
+
+Canon Spratte smiled and made a mental note of the remark, which he
+thought would do very well from his own lips.
+
+'Where is Lucy?' asked Mrs. Crowley, when he had gone.
+
+Lady Kelsey threw up her hands with the feeling, half of amazement, half
+of annoyance, which a very emotional person has always for one who is
+self-restrained.
+
+'She's sitting in her room, reading. She's been reading all day. Heaven
+only knows how she can do it. I tried, and all the letters swam before
+my eyes. It drives me mad to see how calm she is.'
+
+They began to talk of the immediate future. Lady Kelsey had put a large
+sum at Lucy's disposal, and it was arranged that the two children should
+take their father to some place in the south of France where he could
+rest after the terrible ordeal.
+
+'I don't know what they would all have done without you,' said Mrs.
+Crowley. 'You have been a perfect angel.'
+
+'Nonsense,' smiled Lady Kelsey. 'They're my only relations in the world,
+except Bobbie, who's very much too rich as it is, and I love Lucy and
+George as if they were my own children. What is the good of my money
+except to make them happy and comfortable?'
+
+Mrs. Crowley remembered Dick's surmise that Lady Kelsey had loved Fred
+Allerton, and she wondered how much of the old feeling still remained.
+She felt a great pity for the kind, unselfish creature. Lady Kelsey
+started as she heard the street door slam. But it was only George who
+entered.
+
+'Oh, George, where have you been? Why didn't you come in to luncheon?'
+
+He looked pale and haggard. The strain of the last fortnight had told on
+him enormously, and it was plain that his excitement was almost
+unbearable.
+
+'I couldn't eat anything. I've been walking about, waiting for the
+damned hours to pass. I wish I hadn't promised father not to go into
+court. Anything would have been better than this awful suspense. I saw
+the man who's defending him when they adjourned for luncheon, and he
+told me it was all right.'
+
+'Of course it's all right. You didn't imagine that your father would be
+found guilty.'
+
+'Oh, I knew he wouldn't have done a thing like that,' said George
+impatiently. 'But I can't help being frightfully anxious. The papers are
+awful. They've got huge placards out: _County gentleman at the Old
+Bailey. Society in a Bucket Shop._'
+
+George shivered with horror.
+
+'Oh, it's awful!' he cried.
+
+Lady Kelsey began to cry again, and Mrs. Crowley sat in silence, not
+knowing what to say. George walked about in agitation.
+
+'But I know he's not guilty,' moaned Lady Kelsey.
+
+'If he's guilty or not he's ruined me,' said George. 'I can't go up to
+Oxford again after this. I don't know what the devil's to become of me.
+We're all utterly disgraced. Oh, how could he! How could he!'
+
+'Oh, George, don't,' said Lady Kelsey.
+
+But George, with a weak man's petulance, could not keep back the bitter
+words that he had turned over in his heart so often since the brutal
+truth was told him.
+
+'Wasn't it enough that he fooled away every penny he had, so that we're
+simply beggars, both of us, and we have to live on your charity? I
+should have thought that would have satisfied him, without getting
+locked up for being connected in a beastly bucketshop swindle.'
+
+'George, how can you talk of your father like that!'
+
+He gave a sort of sob and looked at her with wild eyes. But at that
+moment a cab drove up, and, he sprang on to the balcony.
+
+'It's Dick Lomas and Bobbie. They've come to tell us.'
+
+He ran to the door and opened it. They walked up the stairs.
+
+'Well?' he cried. 'Well?'
+
+'It's not over yet. We left just as the judge was summing up.'
+
+'Damn you!' cried George, with an explosion of sudden fury.
+
+'Steady, old man,' said Dick.
+
+'Why didn't you stay?' moaned Lady Kelsey.
+
+'I couldn't,' said Dick. 'It was too awful.'
+
+'How was it going?'
+
+'I couldn't make head or tail of it. My mind was in a whirl. I'm an
+hysterical old fool.'
+
+Mrs. Crowley went up to Lady Kelsey and kissed her.
+
+'Why don't you go and lie down for a little while, dear,' she said. 'You
+look positively exhausted.'
+
+* * *
+
+'I have a racking headache,' groaned Lady Kelsey.
+
+'Alec MacKenzie has promised to come here as soon as its over. But you
+mustn't expect him for another hour.'
+
+'Yes, I'll go and lie down,' said Lady Kelsey.
+
+George, unable to master his impatience, flung open the window and stood
+on the balcony, watching for the cab that would bring the news.
+
+'Go and talk to him, there's a good fellow,' said Dick to Robert
+Boulger. 'Cheer him up a bit.'
+
+'Yes, of course I will. It's rot to make a fuss now that it's nearly
+over. Uncle Fred will be here himself in an hour.'
+
+Dick looked at him without answering. When Robert had gone on to the
+balcony, he flung himself wearily in a chair.
+
+'I couldn't stand it any longer,' he said. 'You can't imagine how awful
+it was to see that wretched man in the dock. He looked like a hunted
+beast, his face was all grey with fright, and once I caught his eyes. I
+shall never forget the look that was in them.'
+
+'But I thought he was bearing it so well,' said Mrs. Crowley.
+
+'You know, he's a man who's never looked the truth in the face. He never
+seemed to realise the gravity of the charges that were brought against
+him, and even when the magistrate refused to renew his bail, his
+confidence never deserted him. It was only to-day, when the whole thing
+was unrolled before him, that he appeared to understand. Oh, if you'd
+heard the evidence that was given! And then the pitiful spectacle of
+those two men trying to throw the blame on one another!'
+
+A look of terror came into Mrs. Crowley's face.
+
+'You don't think he's guilty?' she gasped.
+
+Dick looked at her steadily, but did not answer.
+
+'But Lucy's convinced that he'll be acquitted.'
+
+'I wonder.'
+
+'What on earth do you mean?'
+
+Dick shrugged his shoulders.
+
+'But he can't be guilty,' cried Mrs. Crowley. 'It's impossible.'
+
+Dick made an effort to drive away from his mind the dreadful fears that
+filled it.
+
+'Yes, that's what I feel, too,' he said. 'With all his faults Fred
+Allerton can't have committed such a despicable crime. You've never met
+him, you don't know him; but I've known him intimately for twenty years.
+He couldn't have swindled that wretched woman out of every penny she
+had, knowing that it meant starvation to her. He couldn't have been so
+brutally cruel.'
+
+'Oh, I'm so glad to hear you say that'
+
+Silence fell upon them for a while, and they waited. From the balcony
+they heard George talking rapidly, but they could not distinguish his
+words.
+
+'I felt ashamed to stay in court and watch the torture of that unhappy
+man. I've dined with him times out of number; I've stayed at his house;
+I've ridden his horses. Oh, it was too awful.'
+
+He got up impatiently and walked up and down the room.
+
+'It must be over by now. Why doesn't Alec come? He swore he'd bolt
+round the very moment the verdict was given.'
+
+'The suspense is dreadful,' said Mrs. Crowley.
+
+Dick stood still. He looked at the little American, but his eyes did not
+see her.
+
+'There are some people who are born without a moral sense. They are as
+unable to distinguish between right and wrong as a man who is colour
+blind, between red and green.'
+
+'Why do you say that?' asked Mrs. Crowley.
+
+He did not answer. She went up to him anxiously.
+
+'Mr. Lomas, I can't bear it. You must tell me. Do _you_ think he's
+guilty?'
+
+He passed his hands over his eyes.
+
+'The evidence was damnable.'
+
+At that moment George sprang into the room.
+
+'There's Alec. He's just driving along in a cab.'
+
+'Thank God, thank God!' cried Mrs. Crowley. 'If it had lasted longer I
+should have gone mad.'
+
+George went to the door.
+
+'I must tell Miller. He has orders to let no one up.'
+
+He leaned over the banisters, as the bell of the front door was rung.
+
+'Miller, Miller, let Mr. MacKenzie in.'
+
+'Very good, sir,' answered the butler.
+
+Lucy had heard the cab drive up, and she came into the drawing-room with
+Lady Kelsey. The elder woman had broken down altogether and was sobbing
+distractedly. Lucy was very white, but otherwise quite composed. She
+shook hands with Dick and Mrs. Crowley.
+
+'It was kind of you to come,' she said.
+
+'Oh, my poor Lucy,' said Mrs. Crowley, with a sob in her voice.
+
+Lucy smiled bravely.
+
+'It's all over now.'
+
+Alec came in, and she walked eagerly towards him.
+
+'Well? I was hoping you'd bring father with you. When is he coming?'
+
+She stopped. She gave a gasp as she saw Alec's face. Though her cheeks
+were pale before, now their pallor was deathly.
+
+'What is the matter?'
+
+'Isn't it all right?' cried George.
+
+Lucy put her hand on his arm to quieten him. It seemed that Alec could
+not find words. There was a horrible silence, but they all knew what he
+had to tell them.
+
+'I'm afraid you must prepare yourself for a great unhappiness,' he said.
+
+'Where's father?' cried Lucy. 'Where's father? Why didn't you bring him
+with you?'
+
+With the horrible truth dawning upon her, she was losing her
+self-control. She made an effort. Alec would not speak, and she was
+obliged to question him. When the words came, her voice was hoarse and
+low.
+
+'You've not told us what the verdict was.'
+
+'Guilty,' he answered.
+
+Then the colour flew back to her cheeks, and her eyes flashed with
+anger.
+
+'But it's impossible. He was innocent. He swore that he hadn't done it.
+There must be some horrible mistake.'
+
+'I wish to God there were,' said Alec.
+
+'You don't think he's guilty?' she cried.
+
+He did not answer, and for a moment they looked at one another steadily.
+
+'What was the sentence?' she asked.
+
+'The judge was dead against him. He made some very violent remarks as he
+passed it.'
+
+'Tell me what he said.'
+
+'Why should you wish to torture yourself?'
+
+'I want to know.'
+
+'He seemed to think the fact that your father was a gentleman made the
+crime more odious, and the way in which he had induced that woman to
+part with her money made no punishment too severe. He sentenced him to
+seven years penal servitude.'
+
+George gave a cry and sinking into a chair, burst into tears. Lucy put
+her hand on his shoulder.
+
+'Don't, George,' she said. 'You must bear up. Now we want all our
+courage, now more than ever.'
+
+'Oh, I can't bear it,' he moaned.
+
+She bent down and kissed him tenderly.
+
+'Be brave, my dearest, be brave for my sake.'
+
+But he sobbed uncontrollably. It was a horribly painful sight. Dick took
+him by the arm and led him away. Lucy turned to Alec, who was standing
+where first he had stopped.
+
+'I want to ask you a question. Will you answer me quite truthfully,
+whatever the pain you think it will cause me?'
+
+'I will.'
+
+'You followed the trial from the beginning, you know all the details of
+it. Do _you_ think my father is guilty?'
+
+'What can it matter what I think?'
+
+'I beg you to tell me.'
+
+Alec hesitated for a moment. His voice was very low.
+
+'If I had been on the jury I'm afraid I should have had no alternative
+but to decide as they did.'
+
+Lucy bent her head, and heavy tears rolled down her cheeks.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+Next morning Lucy received a note from Alec MacKenzie, asking if he
+might see her that day; he suggested calling upon her early in the
+afternoon and expressed the hope that he might find her alone. She sat
+in the library at Lady Kelsey's and waited for him. She held a book in
+her hands, but she could not read. And presently she began to weep. Ever
+since the dreadful news had reached her, Lucy had done her utmost to
+preserve her self-control, and all night she had lain with clenched
+hands to prevent herself from giving way. For George's sake and for her
+father's, she felt that she must keep her strength. But now the strain
+was too great for her; she was alone; the tears began to flow
+helplessly, and she made no effort to restrain them.
+
+She had been allowed to see her father. Lucy and George had gone to the
+prison, and she recalled now the details of the brief interview. The
+whole thing was horrible. She felt that her heart would break.
+
+In the night indignation had seized Lucy. After reading accounts of the
+case in half a dozen papers she could not doubt that her father was
+justly condemned, and she was horrified at the baseness of the crime.
+His letters to the poor woman he had robbed, were read in court, and
+Lucy flushed as she thought of them. They were a tissue of lies,
+hypocritical and shameless. Lucy remembered the question she had put to
+Alec and his answer.
+
+But neither the newspapers nor Alec's words were needed to convince her
+of her father's guilt; in the very depths of her being, notwithstanding
+the passion with which she reproached herself, she had been convinced of
+it. She would not acknowledge even to herself that she doubted him; and
+all her words, all her thoughts even, expressed a firm belief in his
+innocence; but a ghastly terror had lurked in some hidden recess of her
+consciousness. It haunted her soul like a mysterious shadow which there
+was no bodily shape to explain. The fear had caught her, as though with
+material hands, when first the news of his arrest was brought to Court
+Leys by Robert Boulger, and again at her father's flat in Shaftesbury
+Avenue, when she saw a secret shame cowering behind the good-humoured
+flippancy of his smile. Notwithstanding his charm of manner and the
+tenderness of his affection for his children, she had known that he was
+a liar and a rascal. She hated him.
+
+But when Lucy saw him, still with the hunted look that Dick had noticed
+at the trial, so changed from when last they had met, her anger melted
+away, and she felt only pity. She reproached herself bitterly. How could
+she be so heartless when he was suffering? At first he could not speak.
+He looked from one to the other of his children silently, with appealing
+eyes; and he saw the utter wretchedness which was on George's face.
+George was ashamed to look at him and kept his eyes averted. Fred
+Allerton was suddenly grown old and bent; his poor face was sunken, and
+the skin had an ashy look like that of a dying man. He had already a
+cringing air, as if he must shrink away from his fellows. It was
+horrible to Lucy that she was not allowed to take him in her arms. He
+broke down utterly and sobbed.
+
+'Oh, Lucy, you don't hate me?' he whispered.
+
+'No, I've never loved you more than I love you now,' she said.
+
+And she said it truthfully. Her conscience smote her, and she wondered
+bitterly what she had left undone that might have averted this calamity.
+
+'I didn't mean to do it,' he said, brokenly.
+
+Lucy looked at his poor, wearied eyes. It seemed very cruel that she
+might not kiss them.
+
+'I'd have paid her everything if she'd only have given me time. Luck was
+against me all through. I've been a bad father to both of you.'
+
+Lucy was able to tell him that Lady Kelsey would pay the eight thousand
+pounds the woman had lost. The good creature had thought of it even
+before Lucy made the suggestion. At all events none of them need have on
+his conscience the beggary of that unfortunate person.
+
+'Alice was always a good soul,' said Allerton. He clung to Lucy as
+though she were his only hope. 'You won't forget me while I'm away,
+Lucy?'
+
+'I'll come and see you whenever I'm allowed to.'
+
+'It won't be very long. I hope I shall die quickly.'
+
+'You mustn't do that. You must keep well and strong for my sake and
+George's. We shall never cease to love you, father.'
+
+'What's going to happen to George now?' he asked.
+
+'We shall find something for him. You need not worry about him.'
+
+George flushed. He could find nothing to say. He was ashamed and angry.
+He wanted to get away quickly from that place of horror, and he was
+relieved when the warder told them it was time to go.
+
+'Good-bye, George,' said Fred Allerton.
+
+'Good-bye.'
+
+He kept his eyes sullenly fixed on the ground. The look of despair in
+Allerton's face grew more intense. He saw that his son hated him. And it
+had been on him that all his light affection was placed. He had been
+very proud of the handsome boy. And now his son merely wanted to be rid
+of him. Bitter words rose to his lips, but his heart was too heavy to
+utter them, and they expressed themselves only in a sob.
+
+'Forgive me for all I've done against you, Lucy.'
+
+'Have courage, father, we will never love you less.'
+
+He forced a sad smile to his lips. She included George in what she said,
+but he knew that she spoke only for herself. They went. And he turned
+away into the darkness.
+
+* * *
+
+Lucy's tears relieved her a little. They exhausted her, and so made her
+agony more easy to bear. It was necessary now to think of the future.
+Alec MacKenzie must be there soon. She wondered why he had written, and
+what he could have to say that mattered. She could only think of her
+father, and above all of George. She dried her eyes, and with a deep
+sigh set herself methodically to consider the difficult problem.
+
+* * *
+
+When Alec came she rose gravely to receive him. For a moment he was
+overcome by her loveliness, and he gazed at her in silence. Lucy was a
+woman who was at her best in the tragic situations of life; her beauty
+was heightened by the travail of her soul, and the heaviness of her
+eyes gave a pathetic grandeur to her wan face. She advanced to meet
+sorrow with an unquailing glance, and Alec, who knew something of
+heroism, recognised the greatness of her heart. Of late he had been more
+than once to see that portrait of _Diana of the Uplands_, in which he,
+too, found the gracious healthiness of Lucy Allerton; but now she seemed
+like some sad queen, English to the very bones, who bore with a royal
+dignity an intolerable grief, and yet by the magnificence of her spirit
+turned into something wholly beautiful.
+
+'You must forgive me for forcing myself upon you to-day,' he said
+slowly. 'But my time is very short, and I wanted to speak to you at
+once.'
+
+'It is very good of you to come.' She was embarrassed, and did not know
+what exactly to say. 'I am always very glad to see you.'
+
+He looked at her steadily, as though he were turning over in his mind
+her commonplace words. She smiled.
+
+'I wanted to thank you for your great kindness to me during these two or
+three weeks. You've been very good to me, and you've helped me to bear
+all that--I've had to bear.'
+
+'I would do far more for you than that,' he answered. Suddenly it
+flashed through her mind why he had come. Her heart gave a great beat
+against her chest. The thought had never entered her head. She sat down
+and waited for him to speak. He did not move. There was a singular
+immobility about him when something absorbed his mind.
+
+'I wrote and asked if I might see you alone, because I had something
+that I wanted to say to you. I've wanted to say it ever since we were at
+Court Leys together, but I was going away--heaven only knows when I
+shall come back, and perhaps something may happen to me--and I thought
+it was unfair to you to speak.'
+
+He paused. His eyes were fixed upon hers. She waited for him to go on.
+
+'I wanted to ask you if you would marry me.'
+
+She drew a long breath. Her face kept its expression of intense gravity.
+
+'It's very kind and chivalrous of you to suggest it. You mustn't think
+me ungrateful if I tell you I can't.'
+
+'Why not?' he asked quietly.
+
+'I must look after my father. If it is any use I shall go and live near
+the prison.'
+
+'There is no reason why you should not do that if you married me.'
+
+She shook her head.
+
+'No, I must be free. As soon as my father is released I must be ready to
+live with him. And I can't take an honest man's name. It looks as if I
+were running away from my own and taking shelter elsewhere.'
+
+She hesitated for a while, since it made her very shy to say what she
+had in mind. When she spoke it was in a low and trembling voice.
+
+'You don't know how proud I was of my name and my family. For centuries
+they've been honest, decent people, and I felt that we'd had a part in
+the making of England. And now I feel utterly ashamed. Dick Lomas
+laughed at me because I was so proud of my family. I daresay I was
+stupid. I never paid much attention to rank and that kind of thing, but
+it did seem to me that family was different. I've seen my father, and
+he simply doesn't realise for a moment that he's done something horribly
+mean and shameful. There must be some taint in our nature. I couldn't
+marry you; I should be afraid that my children would inherit the
+rottenness of my blood.'
+
+He listened to what she said. Then he went up to her and put his hands
+on her shoulders. His calmness, and the steadiness of his voice seemed
+to quieten her.
+
+'I think you will be able to help your father and George better if you
+are my wife. I'm afraid your position will be very difficult. Won't you
+give me the great happiness of helping you?'
+
+'We must stand on our own feet. I'm very grateful, but you can do
+nothing for us.'
+
+'I'm very awkward and stupid, I don't know how to say what I want to. I
+think I loved you from that first day at Court Leys. I did not
+understand then what had happened; I suddenly felt that something new
+and strange had come into my life. And day by day I loved you more, and
+then it took up my whole soul. I've never loved anyone but you. I never
+can love anyone but you. I've been looking for you all my life.'
+
+She could not stand the look of his eyes, and she cast hers down. He saw
+the exquisite shadow of her eyelashes on her cheek.
+
+'But I didn't dare say anything to you then. Even if you had cared for
+me, it seemed unfair to bind you to me when I was starting on this
+expedition. But now I must speak. I go in a week. It would give me so
+much strength and courage if I knew that I had your love. I love you
+with all my heart.'
+
+She looked up at him now, and her eyes were shining with tears, but they
+were not the tears of a hopeless pain.
+
+'I can't marry you now. It would be unfair to you. I owe myself entirely
+to my father.'
+
+He dropped his hands from her shoulders and stepped back.
+
+'It must be as you will.'
+
+'But don't think I'm ungrateful,' she said. 'I'm so proud that I have
+your love. It seems to lift me up from the depths. You don't know how
+much good you have done me.'
+
+'I wanted to help you, and you will let me do nothing for you.'
+
+On a sudden a thought flashed through her. She gave a little cry of
+amazement, for here was the solution of her greatest difficulty.
+
+'Yes, you can do something for me. Will you take George with you?'
+
+'George?'
+
+He remained silent for a moment, while he considered the proposition.
+
+'I can trust him in your hands. You will make a good and a strong man of
+him. Oh, won't you give him this chance of washing out the stain that is
+on our name?'
+
+'Do you know that he will have to undergo hunger and thirst and every
+kind of hardship? It's not a picnic that I'm going on.'
+
+'I'm willing that he should undergo everything. The cause is splendid.
+His self-respect is wavering in the balance. If he gets to noble work he
+will feel himself a man.'
+
+'There will be a good deal of fighting. It has seemed foolish to dwell
+on the dangers that await me, but I do realise that they are greater
+than I have ever faced before. This time it is win or die.'
+
+'The dangers can be no greater than those his ancestors have taken
+cheerfully.'
+
+'He may be wounded or killed.'
+
+Lucy hesitated for an instant. The words she uttered came from unmoving
+lips.
+
+'If he dies a brave man's death I can ask for nothing more.'
+
+Alec smiled at her infinite courage. He was immensely proud of her.
+
+'Then tell him that I shall be glad to take him.'
+
+'May I call him now?'
+
+Alec nodded. She rang the bell and told the servant who came that she
+wished to see her brother. George came in. The strain of the last
+fortnight, the horrible shock of his father's conviction, had told on
+him far more than on Lucy. He looked worn and ill. He was broken down
+with shame. The corners of his mouth drooped querulously, and his
+handsome face bore an expression of utter misery. Alec looked at him
+steadily. He felt infinite pity for his youth, and there was a charm of
+manner about him, a way of appealing for sympathy, which touched the
+strong man. He wondered what character the boy had. His heart went out
+to him, and he loved him already because he was Lucy's brother.
+
+'George, Mr. MacKenzie has offered to take you with him to Africa,' she
+said eagerly. 'Will you go?'
+
+'I'll go anywhere so long as I can get out of this beastly country,' he
+answered wearily. 'I feel people are looking at me in the street when I
+go out, and they're saying to one another: there's the son of that
+swindling rotter who was sentenced to seven years.'
+
+He wiped the palms of his hands with his handkerchief.
+
+'I don't mind what I do. I can't go back to Oxford; no one would speak
+to me. There's nothing I can do in England at all. I wish to God I were
+dead.'
+
+'George, don't say that.'
+
+'It's all very well for you. You're a girl, and it doesn't matter. Do
+you suppose anyone would trust me with sixpence now? Oh, how could he?
+How could he?'
+
+'You must try and forget it, George,' said Lucy, gently.
+
+The boy pulled himself together and gave Alec a charming smile.
+
+'It's awfully ripping of you to take pity on me.'
+
+'I want you to know before you decide that you'll have to rough it all
+the time. It'll be hard and dangerous work.'
+
+'Well, as far as I'm concerned it's Hobson's choice, isn't it?' he
+answered, bitterly.
+
+Alec held out his hand, with one of his rare, quiet smiles.
+
+'I hope we shall pull well together and be good friends.'
+
+'And when you come back, George, everything will be over. I wish I were
+a man so that I might go with you. I wish I had your chance. You've got
+everything before you, George. I think no man has ever had such an
+opportunity. All our hope is in you. I want to be proud of you. All my
+self-respect depends on you. I want you to distinguish yourself, so
+that I may feel once more honest and strong and clean.'
+
+Her voice was trembling with a deep emotion, and George, quick to
+respond, flushed.
+
+'I am a selfish beast,' he cried. 'I've been thinking of myself all the
+time. I've never given a thought to you.'
+
+'I don't want you to: I only want you to be brave and honest and
+steadfast.'
+
+The tears came to his eyes, and he put his arms around her neck. He
+nestled against her heart as a child might have done.
+
+'It'll be awfully hard to leave you, Lucy.'
+
+'It'll be harder for me, dear, because you will be doing great and
+heroic things, while I shall be able only to wait and watch. But I want
+you to go.' Her voice broke, and she spoke almost in a whisper. 'And
+don't forget that you're going for my sake as well as for your own. If
+you did anything wrong or disgraceful it would break my heart.'
+
+'I swear to you that you'll never be ashamed of me, Lucy,' he said.
+
+She kissed him and smiled. Alec had watched them silently. His heart was
+very full.
+
+'But we mustn't be silly and sentimental, or Mr. MacKenzie will think us
+a pair of fools.' She looked at him gaily. 'We're both very grateful to
+you.'
+
+'I'm afraid I'm starting almost at once,' he said. 'George must be ready
+in a week.'
+
+'George can be ready in twenty-four hours if need be,' she answered.
+
+The boy walked towards the window and lit a cigarette. He wanted to
+steady his nerves.
+
+'I'm afraid I shall be able to see little of you during the next few
+days,' said Alec. 'I have a great deal to do, and I must run up to
+Lancashire for the week-end.'
+
+'I'm sorry.'
+
+'Won't you change your mind?'
+
+She shook her head.
+
+'No, I can't do that. I must have complete freedom.'
+
+'And when I come back?'
+
+She smiled delightfully.
+
+'When you come back, if you still care, ask me again.'
+
+'And the answer?'
+
+'The answer perhaps will be different.'
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+A week later Alec MacKenzie and George Allerton started from Charing
+Cross. They were to go by P. & O. from Marseilles to Aden, and there
+catch a German boat which would take them to Mombassa. Lady Kelsey was
+far too distressed to see her nephew off; and Lucy was glad, since it
+gave her the chance of driving to the station alone with George. She
+found Dick Lomas and Mrs. Crowley already there. When the train steamed
+away, Lucy was standing a little apart from the others. She was quite
+still. She did not even wave her hand, and there was little expression
+on her face. Mrs. Crowley was crying cheerfully, and she dried her eyes
+with a tiny handkerchief. Lucy turned to her and thanked her for coming.
+
+'Shall I drive you back in the carriage?' sobbed Mrs. Crowley.
+
+'I think I'll take a cab, if you don't mind,' Lucy answered quietly.
+'Perhaps you'll take Dick.'
+
+She did not bid them good-bye, but walked slowly away.
+
+'How exasperating you people are!' cried Mrs. Crowley. 'I wanted to
+throw myself in her arms and have a good cry on the platform. You have
+no heart.'
+
+Dick walked along by her side, and they got into Mrs. Crowley's
+carriage. She soliloquised.
+
+'I thank God that I have emotions, and I don't mind if I do show them. I
+was the only person who cried. I knew I should cry, and I brought three
+handkerchiefs on purpose. Look at them.' She pulled them out of her bag
+and thrust them into Dick's hand. 'They're soaking.'
+
+'You say it with triumph,' he smiled.
+
+'I think you're all perfectly heartless. Those two boys were going away
+for heaven knows how long on a dangerous journey, and they may never
+come back, and you and Lucy said good-bye to them just as if they were
+going off for a day's golf. I was the only one who said I was sorry, and
+that we should miss them dreadfully. I hate this English coldness. When
+I go to America, it's ten to one nobody comes to see me off, and if
+anyone does he just nods and says "Good-bye, I hope you'll have a jolly
+time."'
+
+'Next time you go I will come and hurl myself on the ground, and gnash
+my teeth and shriek at the top of my voice.'
+
+'Oh, yes, do. And then I'll cry all the way to Liverpool, and I shall
+have a racking headache and feel quite miserable and happy.'
+
+Dick meditated for a moment.
+
+'You see, we have an instinctive horror of exhibiting our emotion. I
+don't know why it is, I suppose training or the inheritance of our
+sturdy fathers, but we're ashamed to let people see what we feel. But I
+don't know whether on that account our feelings are any the less keen.
+Don't you think there's a certain beauty in a grief that forbids itself
+all expression? You know, I admire Lucy tremendously, and as she came
+towards us on the platform I thought there was something very fine in
+her calmness.'
+
+'Fiddlesticks!' said Mrs. Crowley, sharply. 'I should have liked her
+much better if she had clung to her brother and sobbed and had to be
+torn away.'
+
+'Did you notice that she left us without even shaking hands? It was a
+very small omission, but it meant that she was quite absorbed in her
+grief.'
+
+They reached Mrs. Crowley's tiny house in Norfolk Street, and she asked
+Dick to come in.
+
+'Sit down and read the paper,' she said, 'while I go and powder my
+nose.'
+
+Dick made himself comfortable. He blessed the charming woman when a
+butler of imposing dimensions brought in all that was necessary to make
+a cocktail. Mrs. Crowley cultivated England like a museum specimen. She
+had furnished her drawing-room with Chippendale furniture of an
+exquisite pattern. No chintzes were so smartly calendered as hers, and
+on the walls were mezzotints of the ladies whom Sir Joshua had painted.
+The chimney-piece was adorned with Lowestoft china, and on the silver
+table was a collection of old English spoons. She had chosen her butler
+because he went so well with the house. His respectability was
+portentous, his gravity was never disturbed by the shadow of a smile;
+and Mrs. Crowley treated him as though he were a piece of decoration,
+with an impertinence that fascinated him. He looked upon her as an
+outlandish freak, but his heavy British heart was surrendered to her
+entirely, and he watched over her with a solicitude that amused and
+touched her.
+
+Dick thought that the little drawing-room was very comfortable, and when
+Mrs. Crowley returned, after an unconscionable time at the toilet-table,
+he was in the happiest mood. She gave a rapid glance at the glasses.
+
+'You're a perfect hero,' she said. 'You've waited till I came down to
+have your cocktail.'
+
+'Richard Lomas, madam, is the soul of courtesy,' he replied, with a
+flourish. 'Besides, base is the soul that drinks in the morning by
+himself. At night, in your slippers and without a collar, with a pipe in
+your mouth and a good book in your hand, a solitary glass of whisky and
+soda is eminently desirable; but the anteprandial cocktail needs the
+sparkle of conversation.'
+
+'You seem to be in excellent health,' said Mrs. Crowley.
+
+'I am. Why?'
+
+'I saw in yesterday's paper that your doctor had ordered you to go
+abroad for the rest of the winter.'
+
+'My doctor received the two guineas, and I wrote the prescription,'
+returned Dick. 'Do you remember that I explained to you the other day at
+length my intention of retiring into private life?'
+
+'I do. I strongly disapprove of it.'
+
+'Well, I was convinced that if I relinquished my duties without any
+excuse people would say I was mad and shut me up in a lunatic asylum. I
+invented a breakdown in my health, and everything is plain sailing. I've
+got a pair for the rest of the session, and at the general election the
+excellent Robert Boulger will step into my unworthy shoes.'
+
+'And supposing you regret the step you've taken?'
+
+'In my youth I imagined, with the romantic fervour of my age, that in
+life everything was irreparable. That is a delusion. One of the greatest
+advantages of life is that hardly anything is. One can make ever so many
+fresh starts. The average man lives long enough for a good many
+experiments, and it's they that give life its savour.'
+
+'I don't approve of this flippant way you talk of life,' said Mrs.
+Crowley severely. 'It seems to me something infinitely serious and
+complicated.'
+
+'That is an illusion of moralists. As a matter of fact, it's merely what
+you make it. Mine is quite light and simple.'
+
+Mrs. Crowley looked at Dick reflectively.
+
+'I wonder why you never married,' she said.
+
+'I can tell you easily. Because I have a considerable gift for repartee.
+I discovered in my early youth that men propose not because they want to
+marry, but because on certain occasions they are entirely at a loss for
+topics of conversation.'
+
+'It was a momentous discovery,' she smiled.
+
+'No sooner had I made it than I began to cultivate my powers of small
+talk. I felt that my only chance was to be ready with appropriate
+subjects at the smallest notice, and I spent a considerable part of my
+last year at Oxford in studying the best masters.'
+
+'I never noticed that you were particularly brilliant,' murmured Mrs.
+Crowley, raising her eyebrows.
+
+'I never played for brilliancy, I played for safety. I flatter myself
+that when prattle was needed, I have never been found wanting. I have
+met the ingenuousness of sweet seventeen with a few observations on Free
+Trade, while the haggard efforts of thirty have struggled in vain
+against a brief exposition of the higher philosophy.'
+
+'When people talk higher philosophy to me I make it a definite rule to
+blush,' said Mrs. Crowley.
+
+'The skittish widow of uncertain age has retired in disorder before a
+complete acquaintance with the Restoration dramatists, and I have
+frequently routed the serious spinster with religious leanings by my
+remarkable knowledge of the results of missionary endeavour in Central
+Africa. Once a dowager sought to ask me my intentions, but I flung at
+her astonished head an article from the Encyclopedia Brittanica. An
+American _divorcee_ swooned when I poured into her shell-like ear a few
+facts about the McKinley Tariff. These are only my serious efforts. I
+need not tell you how often I have evaded a flash of the eyes by an
+epigram, or ignored a sigh by an apt quotation from the poets.'
+
+'I don't believe a word you say,' retorted Mrs. Crowley. 'I believe you
+never married for the simple reason that nobody would have you.'
+
+'Do me the justice to acknowledge that I'm the only man who's known you
+for ten days without being tempted by those coal-mines of yours in
+Pennsylvania to offer you his hand and heart.'
+
+'I don't believe the coal has anything to do with it,' answered Mrs.
+Crowley. 'I put it down entirely to my very considerable personal
+attractions.'
+
+Dick looked at the time and found that the cocktail had given him an
+appetite. He asked Mrs. Crowley if she would lunch with him, and gaily
+they set out for a fashionable restaurant. Neither of them gave a
+thought to Alec and George speeding towards the unknown, nor to Lucy
+shut up in her room, given over to utter misery.
+
+* * *
+
+For Lucy it was the first of many dreary days. Dick went to Naples, and
+enjoying his new-won idleness, did not even write to her. Mrs. Crowley,
+after deciding on a trip to Egypt, was called to America by the illness
+of a sister; and Lady Kelsey, unable to stand the rigour of a Northern
+winter, set out for Nice. Lucy refused to accompany her. Though she knew
+it would be impossible to see her father, she could not bear to leave
+England; she could not face the gay people who thronged the Riviera,
+while he was bound to degrading tasks. The luxury of her own life
+horrified her when she compared it with his hard fare; and she could not
+look upon the comfortable rooms she lived in, with their delicate
+refinements, without thinking of the bare cell to which he was confined.
+Lucy was glad to be alone.
+
+She went nowhere, but passed her days in solitude, striving to acquire
+peace of mind; she took long walks in the parks with her dogs, and spent
+much time in the picture galleries. Without realising the effect they
+had upon her, she felt vaguely the calming influence of beautiful
+things; often she would sit in the National Gallery before some royal
+picture, and the joy of it would fill her soul with quiet relief.
+Sometimes she would go to those majestic statues that decorated the
+pediment of the Parthenon, and the tears welled up in her clear eyes as
+she thanked the gods for the graciousness of their peace. She did not
+often listen to music, for then she could remain no longer mistress of
+her emotions; the tumultuous sounds of a symphony, the final anguish of
+_Tristan_, made vain all her efforts at self-control; and when she got
+home, she could only throw herself on her bed and weep passionately.
+
+In reading she found her greatest solace. Many things that Alec had said
+returned dimly to her memory; and she began to read the Greek writers
+who had so profoundly affected him. She found a translation of Euripides
+which gave her some impression of the original, and her constant mood
+was answered by those old, exquisite tragedies. The complexity of that
+great poet, his doubt, despair, and his love of beauty, spoke to her
+heart as no modern writer could; and in the study of those sad deeds, in
+which men seemed always playthings of the fates, she found a relief to
+her own keen sorrow. She did not reason it out with herself, but almost
+unconsciously the thought came to her that the slings and arrows of the
+gods could be transformed into beauty by resignation and courage.
+Nothing was irreparable but a man's own weakness, and even in shame,
+disaster, and poverty, it was possible to lead a life that was not
+without grandeur. The man who was beaten to the ground by an outrageous
+fortune might be a finer thing than the unseeing, cruel powers that
+conquered him.
+
+It was in this wise that Lucy battled with the intolerable shame that
+oppressed her. In that quiet corner of Hampshire in which her early
+years had been spent, among the memories of her dead kindred, the pride
+of her race had grown to unreasonable proportions; and now in the
+reaction she was terrified lest its decadence was in her, too, and in
+George. She could do nothing but suffer whatever pain it pleased the
+gods to send; but George was a man. In him were placed all her hopes.
+But now and again wild panic seized her. Then the agony was too great to
+bear, and she pressed her hands to her eyes in order to drive away the
+hateful thought: what if George failed her? She knew well enough that he
+had his father's engaging ways and his father's handsome face; but his
+father had had a smile as frank and a charm as great. What if with the
+son, too, they betokened only insincerity and weakness? A malicious
+devil whispered in her ear that now and again she had averted her eyes
+in order not to see George do things she hated. But it was youth that
+drove him. She had taken care to keep from him knowledge of the sordid
+struggles that occupied her, and how could she wonder if he was reckless
+and uncaring? She would not doubt him, she could not doubt him, for if
+anything went wrong with him there was no hope left. She could only
+cease to believe in herself.
+
+When Lucy was allowed to write to her father, she set herself to cheer
+him. The thought that over five years must elapse before she would have
+him by her side once more, paralysed her pen; but she would not allow
+herself to be discouraged. And she sought to give courage to him. She
+wanted him to see that her love was undiminished, and that he could
+count on it. Presently she received a letter from him. After a few
+weeks, the unaccustomed food, the change of life, had told upon him; and
+a general breakdown in his health had driven him into the infirmary.
+Lucy was thankful for the respite which his illness afforded. It must be
+a little less dreary in a prison hospital than in a prison cell.
+
+A letter came from George, and another from Alec. Alec's was brief,
+telling of their journey down the Red Sea and their arrival at Mombassa;
+it was abrupt and awkward, making no reference to his love, or to the
+engagement which she had almost promised to make when he returned. He
+began and ended quite formally. George, apparently in the best of
+spirits, wrote as he always did, in a boyish, inconsequent fashion. His
+letter was filled with slang and gave no news. There was little to show
+that it was written from Mombassa, on the verge of a dangerous
+expedition into the interior, rather than from Oxford on the eve of a
+football match. But she read them over and over again. They were very
+matter of fact, and she smiled as she thought of Julia Crowley's
+indignation if she had seen them.
+
+From her recollection of Alec's words, Lucy tried to make out the scene
+that first met her brother's eyes. She seemed to stand by his side,
+leaning over the rail, as the ship approached the harbour. The sea was
+blue with a blue she had never seen, and the sky was like an inverted
+bowl of copper. The low shore, covered with bush, stretched away in the
+distance; a line of waves was breaking on the reef. They came in sight
+of the island of Mombassa, with the overgrown ruins of a battery that
+had once commanded the entrance; and there were white-roofed houses,
+with deep verandas, which stood in little clearings with coral cliffs
+below them. On the opposite shore thick groves of palm-trees rose with
+their singular, melancholy beauty. Then as the channel narrowed, they
+passed an old Portuguese fort which carried the mind back to the bold
+adventurers who had first sailed those distant seas, and directly
+afterwards a mass of white buildings that reached to the edge of the
+lapping waves. They saw the huts of the native town, wattled and
+thatched, nestling close together; and below them was a fleet of native
+craft. On the jetty was the African crowd, shouting and jostling, some
+half-naked, and some strangely clad, Arabs from across the sea,
+Swahilis, and here and there a native from the interior.
+
+In course of time other letters came from George, but Alec wrote no
+more. The days passed slowly. Lady Kelsey returned from the Riviera.
+Dick came back from Naples to enjoy the pleasures of the London season.
+He appeared thoroughly to enjoy his idleness, signally falsifying the
+predictions of those who had told him that it was impossible to be
+happy without regular work. Mrs. Crowley settled down once more in her
+house in Norfolk Street. During her absence she had written reams by
+every post to Lucy, and Lucy had looked forward very much to seeing her
+again. The little American was almost the only one of her friends with
+whom she did not feel shy. The apartness which her nationality gave her,
+made Mrs. Crowley more easy to talk to. She was too fond of Lucy to pity
+her. The general election came before it was expected, and Robert
+Boulger succeeded to the seat which Dick Lomas was only too glad to
+vacate. Bobbie was very charming. He surrounded Lucy with a protecting
+care, and she could not fail to be touched by his entire devotion. When
+he thought she had recovered somewhat from the first blow of her
+father's sentence, he sent her a letter in which once more he besought
+her to marry him. She was grateful to him for having chosen that method
+of expressing himself, for it seemed possible in writing to tell him
+with greater tenderness that if she could not accept his love she deeply
+valued his affection.
+
+* * *
+
+It seemed to Lucy that the life she led in London, or at Lady Kelsey's
+house on the river, was no more than a dream. She was but a figure in
+the procession of shadow pictures cast on a sheet in a fair, and nothing
+that she did signified. Her spirit was away in the heart of Africa, and
+by a vehement effort of her fancy she sought to see what each day her
+friend and her brother were doing.
+
+Now they had long left the railway and such civilisation as was to be
+found in the lands where white men had already made their mark. She
+knew the exultation which Alec felt, and the thrill of independence,
+when he left behind him all traces of it. He held himself more proudly
+because he knew that thenceforward he must rely on his own resources,
+and success or failure depended only on himself.
+
+Often as she lay awake and saw the ghostly dawn steal across the sky,
+she seemed borne to the African camp, where the break of day, like a
+gust of wind in a field of ripe corn, brought a sudden stir among the
+sleepers. Alec had described to her so minutely the changing scene that
+she was able to bring it vividly before her eyes. She saw him come out
+of his tent, in heavy boots, buckling on his belt. He wore knee-breeches
+and a pith helmet, and he was more bronzed than when she had bidden him
+farewell. He gave the order to the headman of the caravan to take up the
+loads. At the word there was a rush from all parts of the camp; each
+porter seized his load, carrying it off to lash on his mat and his
+cooking-pot, and then, sitting upon it, ate a few grains of roasted
+maize or the remains of last night's game. And as the sun appeared above
+the horizon, Alec, as was his custom, led the way, followed by a few
+askari. A band of natives struck up a strange and musical chant, and the
+camp, but now a scene of busy life, was deserted. The smouldering fires
+died out with the rising sun, and the silent life of the forest replaced
+the chatter and the hum of human kind. Giant beetles came from every
+quarter and carried away pieces of offal; small shy beasts stole out to
+gnaw the white bones upon which savage teeth had left but little; a
+gaunt hyena, with suspicious looks, snatched at a bone and dashed back
+into the jungle. Vultures settled down heavily, and with deliberate air
+sought out the foulest refuse.
+
+Then Lucy followed Alec upon his march, with his fighting men and his
+long string of porters. They went along a narrow track, pushing their
+way through bushes and thorns, or tall rank grass, sometimes with
+difficulty forcing through elephant reeds which closed over their heads
+and showered the cold dew down on their faces. Sometimes they passed
+through villages, with rich soil and extensive population; sometimes
+they plunged into heavy forests of gigantic trees, festooned with
+creepers, where the silence was unbroken even by the footfall of the
+traveller on the bottomless carpet of leaves; sometimes they traversed
+vast swamps, hurrying to avoid the deadly fever, and sometimes scrub
+jungles, in which as far as the eye could reach was a forest of cactus
+and thorn bush. Sometimes they made their way through grassy uplands
+with trees as splendid as those of an English park, and sometimes they
+toiled painfully along a game-track that ran by the bank of a
+swift-rushing river.
+
+At midday a halt was called. The caravan had opened out by then; men who
+were sick or had stopped to adjust a load, others who were weak or lazy,
+had lagged behind; but at last they were all there; and the rear guard,
+perhaps with George in charge of it, whose orders were on no account to
+allow a single man to remain behind them, reported that no one was
+missing. During the heat of noon they made fires and cooked food.
+Presently they set off once more and marched till sundown.
+
+When they reached the place which had been fixed on for camping, a
+couple of shots were fired as signals; and soon the natives, men and
+women, began to stream in with little baskets of grain or flour, with
+potatoes and chickens, and perhaps a pot or two of honey. Very quickly
+the tents were pitched, the bed gear arranged, the loads counted and
+stacked. The party whose duty it was to construct the _zeriba_ cut down
+boughs and dragged them in to form a fence. Each little band of men
+selected the site for their bivouac; one went off to collect materials
+to build the huts, another to draw water, a third for firewood and
+stones, on which to place the cooking-pot. At sunset the headman blew
+his whistle and asked if all were present. A lusty chorus replied. He
+reported to his chief and received the orders for the next day's march.
+
+Alec had told Lucy that from the cry that goes up in answer to the
+headman's whistle, you could always gauge the spirit of the men. If game
+had been shot, or from scarcity the caravan had come to a land of
+plenty, there was a perfect babel of voices. But if the march had been
+long and hard, or if food had been issued for a number of days, of which
+this was the last, isolated voices replied; and perhaps one, bolder than
+the rest, cried out: I am hungry.
+
+Then Alec and George, and the others sat down to their evening meal,
+while the porters, in little parties, were grouped around their huge
+pots of porridge. A little chat, a smoke, an exchange of sporting
+anecdotes, and the white men turned in. And Alec, gazing on the embers
+of his camp fire was alone with his thoughts: the silence of the night
+was upon him, and he looked up at the stars that shone in their
+countless myriads in the blue African sky. Lucy got up and stood at her
+open window. She, too, looked up at the sky, and she thought that she
+saw the same stars as he did. Now in that last half hour, free from the
+burden of the day, with everyone at rest, he could give himself over to
+his thoughts, and his thoughts surely were of her.
+
+* * *
+
+During the months that had passed since Alec left England, Lucy's love
+had grown. In her solitude there was nothing else to give brightness to
+her life, and little by little it filled her heart. Her nature was so
+strong that she could do nothing by half measures, and it was with a
+feeling of extreme relief that she surrendered herself to this
+overwhelming passion. It seemed to her that she was growing in a
+different direction. The yearning of her soul for someone on whom to
+lean was satisfied at last. Hitherto the only instincts that had been
+fostered in her were those that had been useful to her father and
+George; they had needed her courage and her self-reliance. It was very
+comfortable to depend entirely upon Alec's love. Here she could be weak,
+here she could find a greater strength which made her own seem puny.
+Lucy's thoughts were absorbed in the man whom really she knew so little.
+She exulted in his unselfish striving and in his firmness of purpose,
+and when she compared herself with him she felt unworthy. She treasured
+every recollection she had of him. She went over in her mind all that
+she had heard him say, and reconstructed the conversations they had had
+together. She walked where they had walked, remembering how the sky had
+looked on those days and what flowers then bloomed in the parks; she
+visited the galleries they had seen in one another's company, and stood
+before the pictures which he had lingered at. And notwithstanding all
+there was to torment and humiliate her, she was happy. Something had
+come into her life which made all else tolerable. It was easy to bear
+the extremity of grief when he loved her.
+
+After a long time Dick received a letter from Alec. MacKenzie was not a
+good letter-writer. He had no gift of self-expression, and when he had a
+pen in his hand seemed to be seized with an invincible shyness. The
+letter was dry and wooden. It was dated from the last trading-station
+before he set out into the wild country which was to be the scene of his
+operations. It said that hitherto everything had gone well with him, and
+the white men, but for fever occasionally, were bearing the climate
+well. One, named Macinnery, had made a nuisance of himself, and had been
+sent back to the coast. Alec gave no reasons for this step. He had been
+busy making the final arrangements. A company had been formed, the North
+East Africa Trading Company, to exploit the commercial possibilities of
+these unworked districts, and a charter had been given them; but the
+unsettled state of the land had so hampered them that the directors had
+gladly accepted Alec's offer to join their forces with his, and the
+traders at their stations had been instructed to take service under him.
+This increased the white men under his command to sixteen. He had
+drilled the Swahilis whom he had brought from the coast, and given them
+guns, so that he had now an armed force of four hundred men. He was
+collecting levies from the native tribes, and he gave the outlandish
+names of the chiefs, armed with spears, who were to accompany him. The
+power of Mohammed the Lame was on the wane; for, during the three months
+which Alec had spent in England, an illness had seized him, which the
+natives asserted was a magic spell cast on him by one of his wives; and
+a son of his, taking advantage of this, had revolted and fortified
+himself in a stockade. The dying Sultan had taken the field against him,
+and this division of forces made Alec's position immeasurably stronger.
+
+Dick handed Lucy the letter, and watched her while she read it.
+
+'He says nothing about George,' he said.
+
+'He's evidently quite well.'
+
+Though it seemed strange that Alec made no mention of the boy, Dick said
+no more. Lucy appeared to be satisfied, and that was the chief thing.
+But he could not rid his mind of a certain uneasiness. He had received
+with misgiving Lucy's plan that George should accompany Alec. He could
+not help wondering whether those frank blue eyes and that facile smile
+did not conceal a nature as shallow as Fred Allerton's. But, after all,
+it was the boy's only chance, and he must take it.
+
+* * *
+
+Then an immense silence followed. Alec disappeared into those unknown
+countries as a man disappears into the night, and no more was heard of
+him. None knew how he fared. Not even a rumour reached the coast of
+success or failure. When he had crossed the mountains that divided the
+British protectorate from the lands that were to all intents
+independent, he vanished with his followers from human ken. The months
+passed, and there was nothing. It was a year now since he had arrived at
+Mombassa, then it was a year since the last letter had come from him. It
+was only possible to guess that behind those gaunt rocks fierce battles
+were fought, new lands explored, and the slavers beaten back foot by
+foot. Dick sought to persuade himself that the silence was encouraging,
+for it seemed to him that if the expedition had been cut to pieces the
+rejoicing of the Arabs would have spread itself abroad, and some news of
+a disaster would have travelled through Somaliland to the coast, or been
+carried by traders to Zanzibar. He made frequent inquiries at the
+Foreign Office, but there, too, nothing was known. The darkness had
+fallen upon them.
+
+But Lucy suffered neither from anxiety nor fear. She had an immense
+confidence in Alec, and she believed in his strength, his courage, and
+his star. He had told her that he would not return till he had
+accomplished his task, and she expected to hear nothing till he had
+brought it to a triumphant conclusion. She did her little to help him.
+For at length the directors of the North East Africa Trading Company,
+growing anxious, proposed to get a question asked in Parliament, or to
+start an outcry in the newspapers which should oblige the government to
+send out a force to relieve Alec if he were in difficulties, or avenge
+him if he were dead. But Lucy knew that there was nothing Alec dreaded
+more than official interference. He was convinced that if this work
+could be done at all, he alone could do it; and she influenced Robert
+Boulger and Dick Lomas to use such means as they could to prevent
+anything from being done. She was certain that all Alec needed was time
+and a free hand.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+But the monotonous round of Lucy's life, with its dreams and its fond
+imaginings, was interrupted by news of a different character. An
+official letter came to her from Parkhurst to say that the grave state
+of her father's health had decided the authorities to remit the rest of
+his sentence, and he would be set free the next day but one at eight
+o'clock in the morning. She knew not whether to feel relief or sorrow;
+for if she was thankful that the wretched man's long torture was ended,
+she could not but realise that his liberty was given him only because he
+was dying. Mercy had been shown him, and Fred Allerton, in sight of a
+freedom from which no human laws could bar him, was given up to die
+among those who loved him.
+
+Lucy went down immediately to the Isle of Wight, and there engaged rooms
+in the house of a woman who had formerly served her at Hamlyn's Purlieu.
+
+It was midwinter, and a cold drizzle was falling when she waited for him
+at the prison gates. Three years had passed since they had parted. She
+took him in her arms and kissed him silently. Her heart was too full for
+words. A carriage was waiting for them, and she drove to the
+lodging-house; breakfast was ready, and Lucy had seen that good things
+which he liked should be ready for him to eat. Fred Allerton looked
+wistfully at the clean table-cloth, and at the flowers and the dainty
+scones; but he shook his head. He did not speak, and the tears ran
+slowly down his cheeks. He sank wearily into a chair. Lucy tried to
+induce him to eat; she brought him a cup of tea, but he put it away. He
+looked at her with haggard, bloodshot eyes.
+
+'Give me the flowers,' he muttered.
+
+They were his first words. There was a large bowl of daffodils in the
+middle of the table, and she took them out of the water, deftly dried
+their stalks, and gave them to him. He took them with trembling hands
+and pressed them to his heart, then he buried his face in them, and the
+tears ran afresh, bedewing the yellow flowers.
+
+Lucy put her arm around her father's neck and placed her cheek against
+his.
+
+'Don't, father,' she whispered. 'You must try and forget.'
+
+He leaned back, exhausted, and the pretty flowers fell at his feet.
+
+'You know why they've let me out?' he said.
+
+She kissed him, but did not answer.
+
+'I'm so glad that we're together again,' she murmured.
+
+'It's because I'm going to die.'
+
+'No, you mustn't die. In a little while you'll get strong again. You
+have many years before you, and you'll be very happy.'
+
+He gave her a long, searching look; and when he spoke, his voice had a
+hollowness in it that was strangely terrifying.
+
+'Do you think I want to live?'
+
+The pain seemed almost greater than Lucy could bear, and for a moment
+she had to remain silent so that her voice might grow steady.
+
+'You must live for my sake.'
+
+'Don't you hate me?' he asked.
+
+'No, I love you more than I ever did. I shall never cease to love you.'
+
+'I suppose no one would marry you while I was in prison.'
+
+His remark was so inconsequent that Lucy found nothing to say. He gave a
+bitter, short laugh.
+
+'I ought to have shot myself. Then people would have forgotten all about
+it, and you might have had a chance. Why didn't you marry Bobbie?'
+
+'I haven't wanted to marry.'
+
+He was so tired that he could only speak a little at a time, and now he
+closed his eyes. Lucy thought that he was dozing, and began to pick up
+the fallen flowers. But he noticed what she was doing.
+
+'Let me hold them,' he moaned, with the pleading quaver of a sick child.
+
+As she gave them to him once more, he took her hands and began to caress
+them.
+
+'The only thing for me is to hurry up and finish with life. I'm in the
+way. Nobody wants me, and I shall only be a burden. I didn't want them
+to let me go. I wanted to die there quietly.'
+
+Lucy sighed deeply. She hardly recognised her father in the bent, broken
+man who was sitting beside her. He had aged very much and seemed now to
+be an old man, but it was a premature aging, and there was a horror in
+it as of a process contrary to nature. He was very thin, and his hands
+trembled constantly. Most of his teeth had gone; his cheeks were sunken,
+and he mumbled his words so that it was difficult to distinguish them.
+There was no light in his eyes, and his short hair was quite white. Now
+and again he was shaken with a racking cough, and this was followed by
+an attack of such pain in his heart that it was anguish even to watch
+it. The room was warm, but he shivered with cold and cowered over the
+roaring fire.
+
+When the doctor whom Lucy had sent for, saw him, he could only shrug his
+shoulders.
+
+'I'm afraid nothing can be done,' he said. 'His heart is all wrong, and
+he's thoroughly broken up.'
+
+'Is there no chance of recovery?'
+
+'I'm afraid all we can do is to alleviate the pain.'
+
+'And how long can he live?'
+
+'It's impossible to say. He may die to-morrow, he may last six months.'
+
+The doctor was an old man, and his heart was touched by the sight of
+Lucy's grief. He had seen more cases than one of this kind.
+
+'He doesn't want to live. It will be a mercy when death releases him.'
+
+Lucy did not answer. When she returned to her father, she could not
+speak. He was apathetic and did not ask what the doctor had said. Lady
+Kelsey, hating the thought of Lucy and her father living amid the
+discomfort of furnished lodgings, had written to offer the use of her
+house in Charles Street; and Mrs. Crowley, in case they wanted complete
+solitude, had put Court Leys at their disposal. Lucy waited a few days
+to see whether her father grew stronger, but no change was apparent in
+him, and it seemed necessary at last to make some decision. She put
+before him the alternative plans, but he would have none of them.
+
+'Then would you rather stay here?' she said.
+
+He looked at the fire and did not answer. Lucy thought the sense of her
+question had escaped him, for often it appeared to her that his mind
+wandered. She was on the point of repeating it when he spoke.
+
+'I want to go back to the Purlieu.'
+
+Lucy stifled a gasp of dismay. She stared at the wretched man. Had he
+forgotten? He thought that the house of his fathers was his still; and
+all that had parted him from it was gone from his memory. How could she
+tell him?
+
+'I want to die in my own home,' he faltered.
+
+Lucy was in a turmoil of anxiety. She must make some reply. What he
+asked was impossible, and yet it was cruel to tell him the whole truth.
+
+'There are people living there,' she answered.
+
+'Are there?' he said, indifferently.
+
+He looked at the fire still. The silence was dreadful.
+
+'When can we go?' he said at last. 'I want to get there quickly.'
+
+Lucy hesitated.
+
+'We shall have to go into rooms.'
+
+'I don't mind.'
+
+He seemed to take everything as a matter of course. It was clear that he
+had forgotten the catastrophe that had parted him from Hamlyn's Purlieu,
+and yet, strangely, he asked no questions. Lucy was tortured by the
+thought of revisiting the place she loved so well. She had been able to
+deaden her passionate regret only by keeping her mind steadfastly
+averted from all thoughts of it, and now she must actually go there. The
+old wounds would be opened. But it was impossible to refuse, and she set
+about making the necessary arrangements. The rector, who had been given
+the living by Fred Allerton, was an old friend, and Lucy knew that she
+could trust in his affection. She wrote and told him that her father was
+dying and had set his heart on seeing once more his old home. She asked
+him to find rooms in one of the cottages. She did not mind how small nor
+how humble they were. The rector answered by telegram. He begged Lucy to
+bring her father to stay with him. She would be more comfortable than in
+lodgings, and, since he was a bachelor, there was plenty of room in the
+large rectory. Lucy, immensely touched by his kindness, gratefully
+accepted the invitation.
+
+Next day they took the short journey across the Solent.
+
+The rector had been a don, and Fred Allerton had offered him the living
+in accordance with the family tradition that required a man of
+attainments to live in the neighbouring rectory. He had been there now
+for many years, a spare, grey-haired, gentle creature, who lived the
+life of a recluse in that distant village, doing his duty exactly, but
+given over for the most part to his beloved books. He seldom went away.
+The monotony of his daily round was broken only by the occasional
+receipt of a parcel of musty volumes, which he had ordered to be bought
+for him at some sale. He was a man of varied learning, full of remote
+information, eccentric from his solitariness, but with a great sweetness
+of nature. His life was simple, and his wants were few.
+
+In this house, in rooms lined from floor to ceiling with old books, Lucy
+and her father took up their abode. It seemed that Fred Allerton had
+been kept up only by the desire to get back to his native place, for he
+had no sooner arrived than he grew much worse. Lucy was busily occupied
+with nursing him and could give no time to the regrets which she had
+imagined would assail her. She spent long hours in her father's room;
+and while he dozed, half-comatose, the kindly parson sat by the window
+and read to her in a low voice from queer, forgotten works.
+
+One day Allerton appeared to be far better. For a week he had wandered
+much in his mind, and more than once Lucy had suspected that the end was
+near; but now he was singularly lucid. He wanted to get up, and Lucy
+felt it would be brutal to balk any wish he had. He asked if he might go
+out. The day was fine and warm. It was February, and there was a feeling
+in the air as if the spring were at hand. In sheltered places the
+snowdrops and the crocuses gave the garden the blitheness of an Italian
+picture; and you felt that on that multi-coloured floor might fitly trip
+the delicate angels of Messer Perugino. The rector had an old
+pony-chaise, in which he was used to visit his parishioners, and in this
+all three drove out.
+
+'Let us go down to the marshes,' said Allerton.
+
+They drove slowly along the winding road till they came to the broad
+salt marshes. Beyond glittered the placid sea. There was no wind. Near
+them a cow looked up from her grazing and lazily whisked her tail.
+Lucy's heart began to beat more quickly. She felt that her father, too,
+looked upon that scene as the most typical of his home. Other places had
+broad acres and fine trees, other places had forest land and purple
+heather, but there was something in those green flats that made them
+seem peculiarly their own. She took her father's hand, and silently
+their eyes looked onwards. A more peaceful look came into Fred
+Allerton's worn face, and the sigh that broke from him was not
+altogether of pain. Lucy prayed that it might still remain hidden from
+him that those fair, broad fields were his no longer.
+
+That night, she had an intuition that death was at hand. Fred Allerton
+was very silent. Since his release from prison he had spoken barely a
+dozen sentences a day, and nothing served to wake him from his lethargy.
+But there was a curious restlessness about him now, and he would not go
+to bed. He sat in an armchair, and begged them to draw it near the
+window. The sky was cloudless, and the moon shone brightly. Fred
+Allerton could see the great old elms that surrounded Hamlyn's Purlieu;
+and his eyes were fixed steadily upon them. Lucy saw them, too, and she
+thought sadly of the garden which she had loved so well, and of the dear
+trees which old masters of the place had tended so lovingly. Her heart
+filled when she thought of the grey stone house and its happy, spacious
+rooms.
+
+Suddenly there was a sound, and she looked up quickly. Her father's head
+had fallen back, and he was breathing with a strange noisiness. She
+called her friend.
+
+'I think the end has come at last,' she said.
+
+'Would you like me to fetch the doctor?'
+
+'It will be useless.'
+
+The rector looked at the man's wan face, lit dimly by the light of the
+shaded lamp, and falling on his knees, began to recite the prayers for
+the dying. A shiver passed through Lucy. In the farmyard a cock crew,
+and in the distance another cock answered cheerily. Lucy put her hand on
+the good rector's shoulder.
+
+'It's all over,' she whispered.
+
+She bent down and kissed her father's eyes.
+
+* * *
+
+A week later Lucy took a walk by the seashore. They had buried Fred
+Allerton three days before among the ancestors whom he had dishonoured.
+It was a lonely funeral, for Lucy had asked Robert Boulger, her only
+friend then in England, not to come; and she was the solitary mourner.
+The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the rector read the sad,
+beautiful words of the burial service. She could not grieve. Her father
+was at peace. She could only hope that his errors and his crimes would
+be soon forgotten; and perhaps those who had known him would remember
+then that he had been a charming friend, and a clever, sympathetic
+companion. It was little enough in all conscience that Lucy asked.
+
+On the morrow she was leaving the roof of the hospitable parson.
+Surmising her wish to walk alone once more through the country which was
+so dear to her, he had not offered his company. Lucy's heart was full of
+sadness, but there was a certain peace in it, too; the peace of her
+father's death had entered into her, and she experienced a new feeling,
+the feeling of resignation.
+
+Now her mind was set upon the future, and she was filled with hope. She
+stood by the water's edge, looking upon the sea as three years before,
+when she was staying at Court Leys, she had looked upon the sea that
+washed the shores of Kent. Many things had passed since then, and many
+griefs had fallen upon her; but for all that she was happier than then;
+since on that distant day--and it seemed ages ago--there had been
+scarcely a ray of brightness in her life, and now she had a great love
+which made every burden light.
+
+Low clouds hung upon the sky, and on the horizon the greyness of the
+heavens mingled with the greyness of the sea. She looked into the
+distance with longing eyes. Now all her life was set upon that far-off
+corner of unknown Africa, where Alec and George were doing great deeds.
+She wondered what was the meaning of the silence which had covered them
+so long.
+
+'Oh, if I could only see,' she murmured.
+
+She sent her spirit upon that vast journey, trying to pierce the realms
+of space, but her spirit came back baffled. She could not know what they
+were at.
+
+* * *
+
+If Lucy's love had been able to bridge the abyss that parted them, if in
+some miraculous way she had been able to see what actions they did at
+that time, she would have witnessed a greater tragedy than any which she
+had yet seen.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+The night was stormy and dark. The rain was falling, and the ground in
+Alec's camp was heavy with mud. The faithful Swahilis whom he had
+brought from the coast, chattered with cold around their fires; and the
+sentries shivered at their posts. It was a night that took the spirit
+out of a man and made all that he longed for seem vain and trifling. In
+Alec's tent the water was streaming. Great rats ran about boldly. The
+stout canvas bellied before each gust of wind, and the cordage creaked,
+so that one might have thought the whole thing would be blown clean
+away. The tent was unusually crowded, though there was in it nothing but
+Alec's bed, covered with a mosquito-curtain, a folding table, with a
+couple of garden chairs, and the cases which contained his more precious
+belongings. A small tarpaulin on the floor squelched as one walked on
+it.
+
+On one of the chairs a man sat, asleep, with his face resting on his
+arms. His gun was on the table in front of him. It was Walker, a young
+man who had been freshly sent out to take charge of the North East
+Africa Company's most northerly station, and had joined Alec's
+expedition a year before, taking the place of an older man who had gone
+home on leave. He was a funny, fat person with a round face and a comic
+manner, the most unexpected sort of fellow to find in the wildest of
+African districts; and he was eminently unsuited for the life he led.
+He had come into a little money on attaining his majority, and this he
+had set himself resolutely to squander in every unprofitable way that
+occurred to him. When his last penny was spent he had been offered a
+post by a friend of his family's, who happened to be a director of the
+company, and had accepted it as his only refuge from starvation.
+Adversity had not been able to affect his happy nature. He was always
+cheerful no matter what difficulties he was in, and neither regretted
+the follies of his past nor repined over the hardships which had
+followed them. Alec had taken a great liking to him. A silent man
+himself, he found a certain relaxation in people like Dick Lomas and
+Walker who talked incessantly; and the young man's simplicity, his
+constant surprise at the difference between Africa and Mayfair, never
+ceased to divert him.
+
+Presently Adamson came into the tent. He was the Scotch doctor who had
+already been Alec's companion on two of his expeditions; and there was a
+firm friendship between them. He was an Edinburgh man, with a slow drawl
+and a pawky humour, a great big fellow, far and away the largest of any
+of the whites; and his movements were no less deliberate than his
+conversation.
+
+'Hulloa, there,' he called out, as he came in.
+
+Walker started to his feet as if he were shot and instinctively seized
+his gun.
+
+'All right!' laughed the doctor, putting up his hand. 'Don't shoot. It's
+only me.'
+
+Walker put down the gun and looked at the doctor with a blank face.
+
+'Nerves are a bit groggy, aren't they?'
+
+The fat, cheerful man recovered his wits and gave a short laugh.
+
+'Why the dickens did you wake me up? I was dreaming--dreaming of a
+high-heeled boot and a neat ankle and the swirl of a white lace
+petticoat.'
+
+'Were you indeed?' said the doctor, with a slow smile. 'Then it's as
+well I woke ye up in the middle of it before ye made a fool of yourself.
+I thought I'd better have a look at your arm.'
+
+'It's one of the most aesthetic sights I know.'
+
+'Your arm?' asked the doctor, drily.
+
+'No,' answered Walker. 'A pretty woman crossing Piccadilly at Swan &
+Edgar's. You are a savage, my good doctor, and a barbarian; you don't
+know the care and forethought, the hours of anxious meditation, it has
+needed to hold up that well-made skirt with the elegant grace that
+enchants you.'
+
+'I'm afraid you're a very immoral man, Walker,' answered Adamson with
+his long drawl, smiling.
+
+'Under the present circumstances I have to content myself with
+condemning the behaviour of the pampered and idle. Just now a camp-bed
+in a stuffy tent, with mosquitoes buzzing all around me, has allurements
+greater than those of youth and beauty. And I would not sacrifice my
+dinner to philander with Helen of Troy herself.'
+
+'You remind me considerably of the fox who said the grapes were sour.'
+
+Walker flung a tin plate at a rat that sat up on its hind legs and
+looked at him impudently.
+
+'Nonsense. Give me a comfortable bed to sleep in, plenty to eat, tobacco
+to smoke; and Amaryllis may go hang.'
+
+Dr. Adamson smiled quietly. He found a certain grim humour in the
+contrast between the difficulties of their situation and Walker's
+flippant talk.
+
+'Well, let us look at this wound of yours,' he said, getting back to his
+business. 'Has it been throbbing?'
+
+'Oh, it's not worth bothering about. It'll be as right as rain
+to-morrow.'
+
+'I'd better dress it all the same.'
+
+Walker took off his coat and rolled up his sleeve. The doctor removed
+the bandages and looked at the broad flesh wound. He put a fresh
+dressing on it.
+
+'It looks as healthy as one can expect,' he murmured. 'It's odd what
+good recoveries men make here when you'd think that everything was
+against them.'
+
+'You must be pretty well done up, aren't you?' asked Walker, as he
+watched the doctor neatly cut the lint.
+
+'Just about dropping. But I've a devil of a lot more work to do before I
+turn in.'
+
+'The thing that amuses me is to think that I came to Africa thinking I
+was going to have a rattling good time, plenty of shooting and
+practically nothing to do.'
+
+'You couldn't exactly describe it as a picnic, could you?' answered the
+doctor. 'But I don't suppose any of us knew it would be such a tough job
+as it's turned out.'
+
+Walker put his disengaged hand on the doctor's arm.
+
+'My friend, if ever I return to my native land I will never be such a
+crass and blithering idiot as to give way again to a spirit of
+adventure. I shall look out for something safe and quiet, and end my
+days as a wine-merchant's tout or an insurance agent.'
+
+'Ah, that's what we all say when we're out here. But when we're once
+home again, the recollection of the forest and the plains and the
+roasting sun and the mosquitoes themselves, come haunting us, and before
+we know what's up we've booked our passage back to this God-forsaken
+continent.'
+
+The doctor's words were followed by a silence, which was broken by
+Walker inconsequently.
+
+'Do you ever think of rumpsteaks?' he asked.
+
+The doctor stared at him blankly, and Walker went on, smiling.
+
+'Sometimes, when we're marching under a sun that just about takes the
+roof of your head off, and we've had the scantiest and most
+uncomfortable breakfast possible, I have a vision.'
+
+'I would be able to bandage you better if you only gesticulated with one
+arm,' said Adamson.
+
+'I see the dining-room of my club, and myself seated at a little table
+by the window looking out on Piccadilly. And there's a spotless
+table-cloth, and all the accessories are spick and span. An obsequious
+menial brings me a rumpsteak, grilled to perfection, and so tender that
+it melts in the mouth. And he puts by my side a plate of crisp fried
+potatoes. Can't you smell them? And then a liveried flunky brings me a
+pewter tankard, and into it he pours a bottle, a large bottle, mind you,
+of foaming ale.'
+
+'You've certainly added considerably to our cheerfulness, my friend,'
+said Adamson.
+
+Walker gaily shrugged his fat shoulders.
+
+'I've often been driven to appease the pangs of raging hunger with a
+careless epigram, and by the laborious composition of a limerick I have
+sought to deceive a most unholy thirst.'
+
+He liked that sentence and made up his mind to remember it for future
+use. The doctor paused for a moment, and then he looked gravely at
+Walker.
+
+'Last night I thought that you'd made your last joke, old man; and that
+I had given my last dose of quinine.'
+
+'We were in rather a tight corner, weren't we?'
+
+'This is the third expedition I've been with MacKenzie, and I assure you
+I've never been so certain that all was over with us.'
+
+Walker permitted himself a philosophical reflection.
+
+'Funny thing death is, you know! When you think of it beforehand, it
+makes you squirm in your shoes, but when you've just got it face to face
+it seems so obvious that you forget to be afraid.'
+
+Indeed it was only by a miracle that any of them was alive, and they had
+all a curious, light-headed feeling from the narrowness of the escape.
+They had been fighting, with their backs to the wall, and each one had
+shown what he was made of. A few hours before things had been so serious
+that now, in the first moment of relief, they sought refuge
+instinctively in banter. But Dr. Adamson was a solid man, and he wanted
+to talk the matter out.
+
+'If the Arabs hadn't hesitated to attack us just those ten minutes, we
+would have been simply wiped out.'
+
+'MacKenzie was all there, wasn't he?'
+
+Walker had the shyness of his nationality in the exhibition of
+enthusiasm, and he could only express his admiration for the commander
+of the party in terms of slang.
+
+'He was, my son,' answered Adamson, drily. 'My own impression is, he
+thought we were done for.'
+
+'What makes you think that?'
+
+'Well, you see, I know him pretty well. When things are going smoothly
+and everything's flourishing, he's apt to be a bit irritable. He keeps
+rather to himself, and he doesn't say much unless you do something he
+don't approve of.'
+
+'And then, by Jove, he comes down on you like a thousand of bricks,'
+Walker agreed heartily. He remembered observations which Alec on more
+than one occasion had made to recall him to a sense of his great
+insignificance. 'It's not for nothing the natives call him _Thunder and
+Lightning_.'
+
+'But when things look black, his spirits go up like one o'clock,'
+proceeded the doctor. 'And the worse they are the more cheerful he is.'
+
+'I know. When you're starving with hunger, dead tired and soaked to the
+skin, and wish you could just lie down and die, MacKenzie simply bubbles
+over with good humour. It's a hateful characteristic. When I'm in a bad
+temper, I much prefer everyone else to be in a bad temper, too.'
+
+'These last three days he's been positively hilarious. Yesterday he was
+cracking jokes with the natives.'
+
+'Scotch jokes,' said Walker. 'I daresay they sound funny in an African
+dialect.'
+
+'I've never seen him more cheerful,' continued the other, sturdily
+ignoring the gibe. 'By the Lord Harry, said I to myself, the chief
+thinks we're in a devil of a bad way.'
+
+Walker stood up and stretched himself lazily.
+
+'Thank heavens, it's all over now. We've none of us had any sleep for
+three days, and when I once get off I don't mean to wake up for a week.'
+
+'I must go and see the rest of my patients. Perkins has got a bad dose
+of fever this time. He was quite delirious a little while ago.'
+
+'By Jove, I'd almost forgotten.'
+
+People changed in Africa. Walker was inclined to be surprised that he
+was fairly happy, inclined to make a little jest when it occurred to
+him; and it had nearly slipped his memory that one of the whites had
+been killed the day before, while another was lying unconscious with a
+bullet in his skull. A score of natives were dead, and the rest of them
+had escaped by the skin of their teeth.
+
+'Poor Richardson,' he said.
+
+'We couldn't spare him,' answered the doctor slowly. 'The fates never
+choose the right man.'
+
+Walker looked at the brawny doctor, and his placid face was clouded. He
+knew to what the Scot referred and shrugged his shoulders. But the
+doctor went on.
+
+'If we had to lose someone it would have been a damned sight better if
+that young cub Allerton had got the bullet which killed poor
+Richardson.'
+
+'He wouldn't have been much loss, would he?' said Walker, after a
+silence.
+
+'MacKenzie has been very patient with him. If I'd been in his shoes I'd
+have sent him back to the coast when he sacked Macinnery.'
+
+Walker did not answer, and the doctor proceeded to moralise.
+
+'It seems to me that some men have natures so crooked that with every
+chance in the world to go straight, they can't manage it. The only thing
+is to let them go to the devil as best they may.'
+
+At that moment Alec MacKenzie came in. He was dripping with rain and
+threw off his macintosh. His face lit up when he saw Walker and the
+doctor. Adamson was an old and trusted friend, and he knew that on him
+he could rely always.
+
+'I've been going the round of the outlying sentries,' he said.
+
+It was unlike him to volunteer even so trivial a piece of information,
+and Adamson looked up at him.
+
+'All serene?' he asked.
+
+'Yes.'
+
+Alec's eyes rested on the doctor as though he were considering something
+strange about him. The doctor knew him well enough to suspect that
+something very grave had happened, but also he knew him too well to
+hazard an inquiry. Presently Alec spoke again.
+
+'I've just seen a native messenger that Mindabi sent me.'
+
+'Anything important?'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+Alec's answer was so curt that it was impossible to question him
+further. He turned to Walker.
+
+'How's the arm?'
+
+'Oh, that's nothing. It's only a scratch.'
+
+'You'd better not make too light of it. The smallest wound has a way of
+being troublesome in this country.'
+
+'He'll be all right in a day or two,' said the doctor.
+
+Alec sat down. For a minute he did not speak, but seemed plunged in
+thought. He passed his fingers through his beard, ragged now and longer
+than when he was in England.
+
+'How are the others?' he asked suddenly, looking at Adamson.
+
+'I don't think Thompson can last till the morning.'
+
+'I've just been in to see him.'
+
+Thompson was the man who had been shot through the head and had lain
+unconscious since the day before. He was an old gold-prospector, who had
+thrown in his lot with the expedition against the slavers.
+
+'Perkins of course will be down for several days longer. And some of the
+natives are rather badly hurt. Those devils have got explosive bullets.'
+
+'Is there anyone in great danger?'
+
+'No, I don't think so. There are two men who are in a bad way, but I
+think they'll pull through with rest.'
+
+'I see,' said Alec, laconically.
+
+He stared intently at the table, absently passing his hand across the
+gun which Walker had left there.
+
+'I say, have you had anything to eat lately?' asked Walker, presently.
+
+Alec shook himself out of his meditation and gave the young man one of
+his rare, bright smiles. It was plain that he made an effort to be gay.
+
+'Good Lord, I quite forgot; I wonder when the dickens I had some food
+last. These Arabs have been keeping us so confoundedly busy.'
+
+'I don't believe you've had anything to-day. You must be devilish
+hungry.'
+
+'Now you mention it, I think I am,' answered Alec, cheerfully. 'And
+thirsty, by Jove! I wouldn't give my thirst for an elephant tusk.'
+
+'And to think there's nothing but tepid water to drink!' Walker
+exclaimed with a laugh.
+
+'I'll go and tell the boy to bring you some food,' said the doctor.
+'It's a rotten game to play tricks with your digestion like that.'
+
+'Stern man, the doctor, isn't he?' said Alec, with twinkling eyes. 'It
+won't hurt me once in a way, and I shall enjoy it all the more now.'
+
+But when Adamson went to call the boy, Alec stopped him.
+
+'Don't trouble. The poor devil's half dead with exhaustion. I told him
+he might sleep till I called him. I don't want much, and I can easily
+get it myself.'
+
+Alec looked about and presently found a tin of meat and some ship
+biscuits. During the fighting it had been impossible to go out on the
+search for game, and there was neither variety nor plenty about their
+larder. Alec placed the food before him, sat down, and began to eat.
+Walker looked at him.
+
+'Appetising, isn't it?' he said ironically.
+
+'Splendid!'
+
+'No wonder you get on so well with the natives. You have all the
+instincts of the primeval savage. You take food for the gross and
+bestial purpose of appeasing your hunger, and I don't believe you have
+the least appreciation for the delicacies of eating as a fine art.'
+
+'The meat's getting rather mouldy,' answered Alec.
+
+He ate notwithstanding with a good appetite. His thoughts went suddenly
+to Dick who at the hour which corresponded with that which now passed in
+Africa, was getting ready for one of the pleasant little dinners at the
+_Carlton_ upon which he prided himself. And then he thought of the
+noisy bustle of Piccadilly at night, the carriages and 'buses that
+streamed to and fro, the crowded pavements, the gaiety of the lights.
+
+'I don't know how we're going to feed everyone to-morrow,' said Walker.
+'Things will be going pretty bad if we can't get some grain in from
+somewhere.'
+
+Alec pushed back his plate.
+
+'I wouldn't worry about to-morrow's dinner if I were you,' he said, with
+a low laugh.
+
+'Why?' asked Walker.
+
+'Because I think it's ten to one that we shall be as dead as doornails
+before sunrise.'
+
+The two men stared at him silently. Outside, the wind howled grimly, and
+the rain swept against the side of the tent.
+
+'Is this one of your little jokes, MacKenzie?' said Walker at last.
+
+'You have often observed that I joke with difficulty.'
+
+'But what's wrong now?' asked the doctor quickly.
+
+Alec looked at him and chuckled quietly.
+
+'You'll neither of you sleep in your beds to-night. Another sell for the
+mosquitoes, isn't it? I propose to break up the camp and start marching
+in an hour.'
+
+'I say, it's a bit thick after a day like this,' said Walker. 'We're all
+so done up that we shan't be able to go a mile.'
+
+'You will have had two hours rest.'
+
+Adamson rose heavily to his feet. He meditated for an appreciable time.
+
+'Some of those fellows who are wounded can't possibly be moved,' he
+said.
+
+'They must.'
+
+'I won't answer for their lives.'
+
+'We must take the risk. Our only chance is to make a bold dash for it,
+and we can't leave the wounded here.'
+
+'I suppose there's going to be a deuce of a row,' said Walker.
+
+'There is.'
+
+'Your companions seldom have a chance to complain of the monotony of
+their existence,' said Walker, grimly. 'What are you going to do now?'
+
+'At this moment I'm going to fill my pipe.'
+
+With a whimsical smile, Alec took his pipe from his pocket, knocked it
+out on his heel, filled and lit it. The doctor and Walker digested the
+information he had given them. It was Walker who spoke first.
+
+'I gather from the general amiability of your demeanour that we're in
+rather a tight place.'
+
+'Tighter than any of your patent-leather boots, my friend.'
+
+Walker moved uncomfortably in his chair. He no longer felt sleepy. A
+cold shiver ran down his spine.
+
+'Have we any chance of getting through?' he asked gravely.
+
+It seemed to him that Alec paused an unconscionable time before he
+answered.
+
+'There's always a chance,' he said.
+
+'I suppose we're going to do a bit more fighting?'
+
+'We are.'
+
+Walker yawned loudly.
+
+'Well, at all events there's some comfort in that. If I am going to be
+done out of my night's rest, I should like to take it out of someone.'
+
+Alec looked at him with approval. That was the frame of mind that
+pleased him. When he spoke again there was in his voice a peculiar
+charm that perhaps in part accounted for the power he had over his
+fellows. It inspired an extraordinary belief in him, so that anyone
+would have followed him cheerfully to certain death. And though his
+words were few and bald, he was so unaccustomed to take others into his
+confidence, that when he did so, ever so little, and in that tone, it
+seemed that he was putting his hearers under a singular obligation.
+
+'If things turn out all right, we shall come near finishing the job, and
+there won't be much more slave-trading in this part of Africa.'
+
+'And if things don't turn out all right?'
+
+'Why then, I'm afraid the tea tables of Mayfair will be deprived of your
+scintillating repartee for ever.'
+
+Walker looked down at the ground. Strange thoughts ran through his head,
+and when he looked up again, with a shrug of the shoulders, there was a
+queer look in his eyes.
+
+'Well, I've not had a bad time in my life,' he said slowly. 'I've loved
+a little, and I've worked and played. I've heard some decent music, I've
+looked at nice pictures, and I've read some thundering fine books. If I
+can only account for a few more of those damned scoundrels before I die,
+I shouldn't think I had much to complain of.'
+
+Alec smiled, but did not answer. A silence fell upon them. Walker's
+words brought to Alec the recollection of what had caused the trouble
+which now threatened them, and his lips tightened. A dark frown settled
+between his eyes.
+
+'Well, I suppose I'd better go and get things straight,' said the
+doctor. 'I'll do what I can with those fellows and trust to Providence
+that they'll stand the jolting.'
+
+'What about Perkins?' asked Alec.
+
+'Lord knows! I'll try and keep him quiet with choral.'
+
+'You needn't say anything about our striking camp. I don't propose that
+anyone should know till a quarter of an hour before we start.'
+
+'But that won't give them time.'
+
+'I've trained them often enough to get on the march quickly,' answered
+Alec, with a curtness that allowed no rejoinder.
+
+The doctor turned to go, and at the same moment George Allerton
+appeared.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+George Allerton had changed since he left England. The flesh had fallen
+away from his bones, and his face was sallow. He had not stood the
+climate well. His expression had changed too, for there was a singular
+querulousness about his mouth, and his eyes were shifty and cunning. He
+had lost his good looks.
+
+'Can I come in?' he said.
+
+'Yes,' answered Alec, and then turning to the doctor: 'You might stay a
+moment, will you?'
+
+'Certainly.'
+
+Adamson stood where he was, with his back to the flap that closed the
+tent. Alec looked up quickly.
+
+'Didn't Selim tell you I wanted to speak to you?'
+
+'That's why I've come,' answered George.
+
+'You've taken your time about it.'
+
+'I say, could you give me a drink of brandy? I'm awfully done up.'
+
+'There's no brandy left,' answered Alec.
+
+'Hasn't the doctor got some?'
+
+'No.'
+
+There was a long pause. Adamson and Walker did not know what was the
+matter; but they saw that there was something serious. They had never
+seen Alec so cold, and the doctor, who knew him well, saw that he was
+very angry. Alec lifted his eyes again and looked at George slowly.
+
+'Do you know anything about the death of that Turkana woman?' he asked
+abruptly.
+
+George did not answer immediately.
+
+'No. How should I?' he said presently.
+
+'Come now, you must know something about it. Last Tuesday you came into
+camp and said the Turkana were very much excited.'
+
+'Oh, yes, I remember,' answered George, unwillingly
+
+'Well?'
+
+'I'm not very clear about it. The woman had been shot, hadn't she? One
+of the station boys had been playing the fool with her, and he seems to
+have shot her.'
+
+'Have you made no attempt to find out which of the station boys it was?'
+
+'I haven't had time,' said George, in a surly way. 'We've all been
+worked off our legs during the last three days.'
+
+'Do you suspect no one?'
+
+'I don't think so.'
+
+'Think a moment.'
+
+'The only man who might have done it is that big scoundrel we got on the
+coast, the Swahili beggar with one ear.'
+
+'What makes you think that?'
+
+'He's been making an awful nuisance of himself, and I know he's been
+running after the women.'
+
+Alec did not take his eyes off George. Walker saw what was coming and
+looked down at the ground.
+
+'You'll be surprised to hear that when the woman was found she wasn't
+dead.'
+
+George did not move, but his cheeks became if possible more haggard. He
+was horribly frightened.
+
+'She didn't die for nearly an hour.'
+
+There was a very short silence. It seemed to George that they must hear
+the furious beating of his heart.
+
+'Was she able to say anything?'
+
+'She said you'd shot her,'
+
+'What a damned lie!'
+
+'It appears that _you_ were--playing the fool with her. I don't know why
+you quarrelled. You took out your revolver and fired point blank.'
+
+George laughed.
+
+'It's just like these beastly niggers to tell a stupid lie like that.
+You wouldn't believe them rather than me, would you? After all, my
+word's worth more than theirs.'
+
+Alec quietly took from his pocket the case of an exploded cartridge. It
+could only have fitted a revolver.
+
+'This was found about two yards from the body and was brought to me this
+evening.'
+
+'I don't know what that proves.'
+
+'You know just as well as I do that none of the natives has a revolver.
+Beside ourselves only one or two of the servants have them.'
+
+George took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. His
+throat was horribly dry, and he could hardly breathe.
+
+'Will you give me your revolver,' said Alec, quietly.
+
+'I haven't got it. I lost it this afternoon when we made that sortie. I
+didn't tell you as I thought you'd get in a wax about it.'
+
+'I saw you cleaning it less than an hour ago,' said Alec, gravely.
+
+George shrugged his shoulders pettishly.
+
+'Perhaps it's in my tent. I'll go and see.'
+
+'Stop here,' said Alec sharply.
+
+'Look here, I'm not going to be ordered about like a dog. You've got no
+right to talk to me like that. I came out here of my own free will, and
+I won't let you treat me like a damned nigger.'
+
+'If you put your hand to your hip-pocket I think you'll find your
+revolver there.'
+
+'I'm not going to give it you,' said George, his lips white with fear.
+
+'Do you want me to come and take if from you myself?'
+
+The two men stared at one another for a moment. Then George slowly put
+his hand to his pocket and took out the revolver. But a sudden impulse
+seized him. He raised it, quickly aimed at Alec, and fired. Walker was
+standing near him, and seeing the movement, instinctively beat up the
+boy's hand as pulled the trigger. In a moment the doctor had sprung
+forward and seizing him round the waist, thrown him backwards. The
+revolver fell from his hand. Alec had not moved.
+
+'Let me go, damn you!' cried George, his voice shrill with rage.
+
+'You need not hold him,' said Alec.
+
+It was second nature with them all to perform Alec's commands, and
+without thinking twice they dropped their hands. George sank cowering
+into a chair. Walker, bending down, picked up the revolver and gave it
+to Alec, who silently fitted into an empty chamber the cartridge that
+had been brought to him.
+
+'You see that it fits,' he said. 'Hadn't you better make a clean breast
+of it?'
+
+George was utterly cowed. A sob broke from him.
+
+'Yes, I shot her,' he said brokenly. 'She made a row and the devil got
+into me. I didn't know what I'd done till she screamed and I saw the
+blood.'
+
+He cursed himself for being such a fool as to throw the cartridge away.
+His first thought had been to have all the chambers filled.
+
+'Do you remember that two months ago I hanged a man to the nearest tree
+because he'd murdered one of the natives?'
+
+George sprang up in terror, and he began to tremble.
+
+'You wouldn't do that to me.'
+
+A wild prayer went up in his heart that mercy might be shown him, and
+then bitter anger seized him because he had ever come out to that
+country.
+
+'You need not be afraid,' answered Alec coldly. 'In any case I must
+preserve the native respect for the white man.'
+
+'I was half drunk when I saw the woman. I wasn't responsible for my
+actions.'
+
+'In any case the result is that the whole tribe has turned against us.'
+
+The chief was Alec's friend, and it was he who had sent him the exploded
+cartridge. The news came to Alec like a thunderclap, for the Turkana
+were the best part of his fighting force, and he had always placed the
+utmost reliance on their fidelity. The chief said that he could not hold
+in his young men, and not only must Alec cease to count upon them, but
+they would probably insist on attacking him openly. They had stirred up
+the neighbouring tribes against him and entered into communication with
+the Arabs. He had been just at the turning point and on the verge of a
+great success, but now all that had been done during three years was
+frustrated. The Arabs had seized the opportunity and suddenly assumed
+the offensive. The unexpectedness of their attack had nearly proved
+fatal to Alec's party, and since then they had all had to fight for bare
+life.
+
+George watched Alec as he stared at the ground.
+
+'I suppose the whole damned thing's my fault,' he muttered.
+
+Alec did not answer directly.
+
+'I think we may take it for certain that the natives will go over to the
+slavers to-morrow, and then we shall be attacked on all sides. We can't
+hold out against God knows how many thousands. I've sent Rogers and
+Deacon to bring in all the Latukas, but heaven knows if they can arrive
+in time.'
+
+'And if they don't?'
+
+Alec shrugged his shoulders, but did not speak. George's breathing came
+hurriedly, and a sob rose to his throat.
+
+'What are you going to do to me, Alec?'
+
+MacKenzie walked up and down, thinking of the gravity of their position.
+In a moment he stopped and looked at Walker.
+
+'I daresay you have some preparations to make,' he said.
+
+Walker got up.
+
+'I'll be off,' he answered, with a slight smile.
+
+He was glad to go, for it made him ashamed to watch the boy's
+humiliation. His own nature was so honest, his loyalty so unbending,
+that the sight of viciousness affected him with a physical repulsion,
+and he turned away from it as he would have done from the sight of some
+hideous ulcer. The doctor surmised that his presence too was undesired.
+Murmuring that he had no time to lose if he wanted to get his patients
+ready for a night march, he followed Walker out of the tent. George
+breathed more freely when he was alone with Alec.
+
+'I'm sorry I did that silly thing just now,' he said. 'I'm glad I didn't
+hit you.'
+
+'It doesn't matter at all,' smiled Alec. 'I'd forgotten all about it.'
+
+'I lost my head. I didn't know what I was doing.'
+
+'You need not trouble about that. In Africa even the strongest of us are
+apt to lose our balance.'
+
+Alec filled his pipe again, and lighting it, blew heavy clouds of smoke
+into the damp air. His voice was softer when he spoke.
+
+'Did you ever know that before we came away I asked Lucy to marry me?'
+
+George did not answer. He stifled a sob, for the recollection of Lucy,
+the centre of his love and the mainspring of all that was decent in him,
+transfixed his heart with pain.
+
+'She asked me to bring you here in the hope that you'd,'--Alec had some
+difficulty in expressing himself--'do something that would make people
+forget what happened to your father. She's very proud of her family. She
+feels that your good name is--besmirched, and she wanted you to give it
+a new lustre. I think that is the object she has most at heart in the
+world. It is as great as her love for you. The plan hasn't been much of
+a success, has it?'
+
+'She ought to have known that I wasn't suited for this sort of life,'
+answered George, bitterly.
+
+'I saw very soon that you were weak and irresolute, but I thought I
+could put some backbone into you. I hoped for her sake to make
+something of you after all. Your intentions seemed good enough, but you
+never had the strength to carry them out.' Alec had been watching the
+smoke that rose from his pipe, but now he looked at George. 'I'm sorry
+if I seem to be preaching at you.'
+
+'Oh, do you think I care what anyone says to me now?'
+
+Alec went on very gravely, but not unkindly.
+
+'Then I found you were drinking. I told you that no man could stand
+liquor in this country, and you gave me your word of honour that you
+wouldn't touch it again.'
+
+'Yes, I broke it. I couldn't help myself. The temptation was too
+strong.'
+
+'When we came to the station at Munias, and I was laid up with fever,
+you and Macinnery took the opportunity to get into an ugly scrape with
+some native women. You knew that that was the one thing I would not
+stand. I have nothing to do with morality--everyone is free in these
+things to do as he chooses--but I do know that nothing causes more
+trouble with the natives, and I've made definite rules on the subject.
+If the culprits are Swahilis I flog them, and if they're whites I send
+them back to the coast. That's what I ought to have done with you, but
+it would have broken Lucy's heart.'
+
+'It was Macinnery's fault.'
+
+'It's because I thought Macinnery was chiefly to blame that I sent him
+back alone. I determined to give you another chance. It struck me that
+the feeling of authority might have some influence on you, and so, when
+I had to build a _boma_ to guard the road down to the coast, I put the
+chief part of the stores in your care and left you in command. I need
+not remind you what happened there.'
+
+George looked down at the floor sulkily, and in default of excuses, kept
+silent. He felt a sullen resentment as he remembered Alec's anger. He
+had never seen him give way before or since to such a furious wrath, and
+he had seen Alec hold himself with all his strength so that he might not
+thrash him. Alec remembered too, and his voice once more grew hard and
+cold.
+
+'I came to the conclusion that it was hopeless. You seemed to me rotten
+through and through.'
+
+'Like my father before me,' sneered George, with a little laugh.
+
+'I couldn't believe a word you said. You were idle and selfish. Above
+all you were loathsomely, wantonly cruel. I was aghast when I heard of
+the fiendish cruelty with which you'd used the wretched men whom I left
+with you. If I hadn't returned in the nick of time, they'd have killed
+you and looted all the stores.'
+
+'It would have upset you to lose the stores, wouldn't it?'
+
+'Is that all you've got to say?'
+
+'You always believed their stories rather than mine.'
+
+'It was difficult not to believe when a man showed me his back all torn
+and bleeding, and said you'd had him flogged because he didn't cook your
+food to your satisfaction.'
+
+'I did it in a moment of temper. A man's not responsible for what he
+does when he's got fever.'
+
+'It was too late to send you to the coast then, and I was obliged to
+take you on. And now the end has come. Your murder of that woman has
+put us all in deadly peril. Already to your charge lie the deaths of
+Richardson and Thompson and about twenty natives. We're as near
+destruction as we can possibly be; and if we're killed, to-morrow the
+one tribe that has remained friendly will be attacked and their villages
+burnt. Men, women and children, will be put to the sword or sold into
+slavery.'
+
+George seemed at last to see the abyss into which he was plunged, and
+his resentment gave way to despair.
+
+'What are you going to do?'
+
+'We're far away from the coast, and I must take the law into my own
+hands.'
+
+'You're not going to kill me?' gasped George.
+
+'No,' said Alec scornfully.
+
+Alec sat on the little camp table so that he might be quite near George.
+
+'Are you fond of Lucy?' he asked gently.
+
+George broke into a sob.
+
+'O God, you know I am,' he cried piteously. 'Why do you remind me of
+her? I've made a rotten mess of everything, and I'm better out of the
+way. But think of the disgrace of it. It'll kill Lucy. And she was
+hoping I'd do so much.'
+
+He hid his face in his hands and sobbed broken-heartedly. Alec,
+strangely touched, put his hand on his shoulder.
+
+'Listen to me,' he said. 'I've sent Deacon and Rogers to bring up as
+many Latukas as they can. If we can tide over to-morrow we may be able
+to inflict a crushing blow on the Arabs; but we must seize the ford over
+the river. The Arabs are holding it and our only chance is to make a
+sudden attack on them to-night before the natives join them. We shall be
+enormously outnumbered, but we may do some damage if we take them by
+surprise, and if we can capture the ford, Rogers and Deacon will be able
+to get across to us. We've lost Richardson and Thompson. Perkins is down
+with fever. That reduces the whites to Walker, and the doctor,
+Condamine, Mason, you and myself. I can trust the Swahilis, but they're
+the only natives I can trust. Now, I'm going to start marching straight
+for the ford. The Arabs will come out of their stockade in order to cut
+us off. In the darkness I mean to slip away with the rest of the white
+men and the Swahilis, I've found a short cut by which I can take them in
+the rear. They'll attack just as the ford is reached, and I shall fall
+upon them. Do you see?'
+
+George nodded, but he did not understand at what Alec was driving. The
+words reached his ears vaguely, as though they came from a long way off.
+
+'I want one white man to lead the Turkana, and that man will run the
+greatest possible danger. I'd go myself only the Swahilis won't fight
+unless I lead them.... Will you take that post?'
+
+The blood rushed to George's head, and he felt his ears singing.
+
+'I?'
+
+'I could order you to go, but the job's too dangerous for me to force it
+on anyone. If you refuse I shall call the others together and ask
+someone to volunteer.'
+
+George did not answer.
+
+'I won't hide from you that it means almost certain death. But there's
+no other way of saving ourselves. On the other hand, if you show perfect
+courage at the moment the Arabs attack and the Turkana find we've given
+them the slip, you may escape. If you do, I promise you that nothing
+shall be said of all that has happened here.'
+
+George sprang to his feet, and once more on his lips flashed the old,
+frank smile.
+
+'All right! I'll do that. And I thank you with all my heart for giving
+me the chance.'
+
+Alec held out his hand, and he gave a sigh of relief.
+
+'I'm glad you've accepted. Whatever happens you'll have done one brave
+action in your life.'
+
+George flushed. He wanted to speak, but hesitated.
+
+'I should like to ask you a great favour,' he said at last.
+
+Alec waited for him to go on.
+
+'You won't let Lucy know the mess I've made of things, will you? Let her
+think I've done all she wanted me to do.'
+
+'Very well,' answered Alec gently.
+
+'Will you give me your word of honour that if I'm killed you won't say
+anything that will lead anyone to suspect how I came by my death.'
+
+Alec looked at him silently. It flashed across his mind that it might be
+necessary under certain circumstances to tell the whole truth. George
+was greatly moved. He seemed to divine the reason of Alec's hesitation.
+
+'I have no right to ask anything of you. Already you've done far more
+for me than I deserved. But it's for Lucy's sake that I implore you not
+to give me away.'
+
+Alec, standing entirely still, uttered the words slowly.
+
+'I give you my word of honour that whatever happens and in whatever
+circumstances I find myself placed, not a word shall escape me that
+could lead Lucy to suppose that you hadn't been always and in every way
+upright, brave, and honourable. I will take all the responsibility of
+your present action.'
+
+'I'm awfully grateful to you.'
+
+Alec moved at last. The strain of their conversation was become almost
+intolerable. Alec's voice became cheerful and brisk.
+
+'I think there's nothing more to be said. You must be ready to start in
+half an hour. Here's your revolver.' There was a twinkle in his eyes as
+he continued: 'Remember that you've discharged one chamber. You'd better
+put in another cartridge.'
+
+'Yes, I'll do that.'
+
+George nodded and went out. Alec's face at once lost the lightness which
+it had assumed a moment before. He knew that he had just done something
+which might separate him from Lucy for ever. His love for her was now
+the only thing in the world to him, and he had jeopardised it for that
+worthless boy. He saw that all sorts of interpretations might be put
+upon his action, and he should have been free to speak the truth. But
+even if George had not exacted from him the promise of silence, he could
+never have spoken a word. He loved Lucy far too deeply to cause her such
+bitter pain. Whatever happened, she must think that George was a brave
+man, and had died in the performance of his duty. He knew her well
+enough to be sure that if death were dreadful, it was more tolerable
+than dishonour. He knew how keenly she had felt her disgrace, how it
+affected her like a personal uncleanness, and he knew that she had
+placed all her hopes in George. Her brother was rotten to the core, as
+rotten as her father. How could he tell her that? He was willing to make
+any sacrifice rather than allow her to have such knowledge. But if ever
+she knew that he had sent George to his death she would hate him. And if
+he lost her love he lost everything. He had thought of that before he
+answered: Lucy could do without love better than without self-respect.
+
+But he had told George that if he had pluck he might get through. Would
+he show that last virtue of a blackguard--courage?
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+It was not till six months later that news of Alec MacKenzie's
+expedition reached the outer world, and at the same time Lucy received a
+letter from him in which he told her that her brother was dead. That
+stormy night had been fatal to the light-hearted Walker and to George
+Allerton, but success had rewarded Alec's desperate boldness, and a blow
+had been inflicted on the slavers which subsequent events proved to be
+crushing. Alec's letter was grave and tender. He knew the extreme grief
+he must inflict upon Lucy, and he knew that words could not assuage it.
+It seemed to him that the only consolation he could offer was that the
+life which was so precious to her had been given for a worthy cause. Now
+that George had made up in the only way possible for the misfortune his
+criminal folly had brought upon them, Alec was determined to put out of
+his mind all that had gone before. It was right that the weakness which
+had ruined him should be forgotten, and Alec could dwell honestly on the
+boy's charm of manner, and on his passionate love for his sister.
+
+The months followed one another, the dry season gave place to the wet,
+and at length Alec was able to say that the result he had striven for
+was achieved. Success rewarded his long efforts, and it was worth the
+time, the money, and the lives that it had cost. The slavers were driven
+out of a territory larger than the United Kingdom, treaties were signed
+with chiefs who had hitherto been independent, by which they accepted
+the suzerainty of Great Britain; and only one step remained, that the
+government should take over the rights of the company which had been
+given powers to open up the country, and annex the conquered district to
+the empire. It was to this that MacKenzie now set himself; and he
+entered into communication with the directors of the company and with
+the commissioner at Nairobi.
+
+But it seemed as if the fates would snatch from him all enjoyment of the
+laurels he had won, for on their way towards Nairobi, Alec and Dr.
+Adamson were attacked by blackwater fever. For weeks Alec lay at the
+point of death. His fine constitution seemed to break at last, and he
+himself thought that the end was come. Condamine, one of the company's
+agents, took command of the party and received Alec's final
+instructions. Alec lay in his camp bed, with his faithful Swahili boy by
+his side to brush away the flies, waiting for the end. He would have
+given much to live till all his designs were accomplished, but that
+apparently was not to be. There was only one thing that troubled him.
+Would the government let the splendid gift he offered slip through their
+fingers? Now was the time to take formal possession of the territories
+which he had pacified: the prestige of the whites was at its height, and
+there were no difficulties to be surmounted. He impressed upon
+Condamine, whom he wished to be appointed sub-commissioner under a chief
+at Nairobi, the importance of making all this clear to the authorities.
+The post he suggested would have been pressed upon himself, but he had
+no taste for official restrictions, and his part of the work was done.
+So far as this went, his death was of little consequence.
+
+And then he thought of Lucy. He wondered if she would understand what he
+had done. He could acknowledge now that she had cause to be proud of
+him. She would be sorry for his death. He did not think that she loved
+him, he did not expect it; but he was glad to have loved her, and he
+wished he could have told her how much the thought of her had been to
+him during these years of difficulty. It was very hard that he might not
+see her once more in order to thank her for all she had been to him. She
+had given his life a beauty it could never have had, and for this he was
+very grateful. But the secret of George's death would die with him; for
+Walker was dead, and Adamson, the only man left who could throw light
+upon it, might be relied on to hold his tongue. And Alec, losing
+strength each day, thought that perhaps it were well if he died.
+
+But Condamine could not bear to see his chief thus perish. For four
+years that man had led them, and only his companions knew his worth. To
+his acquaintance he might seem hard and unsympathetic, he might repel by
+his taciturnity and anger by his sternness; but his comrades knew how
+eminent were his qualities. It was impossible for anyone to live with
+him continually without being conquered by his greatness. If his power
+with the natives was unparalleled, it was because they had taken his
+measure and found him sterling. And he had bound the whites to him by
+ties from which they could not escape. He asked no one to do anything
+which he was not willing to do himself. If any plan of his failed he
+took the failure upon himself; if it succeeded he attributed the
+success to those who had carried out his orders. If he demanded courage
+and endurance from others it was easy, since he showed them the way by
+his own example to be strong and brave. His honesty, justice, and
+forbearance made all who came in contact with him ashamed of their own
+weakness. They knew the unselfishness which considered the comfort of
+the meanest porter before his own; and his tenderness to those who were
+ill knew no bounds.
+
+The Swahilis assumed an unaccustomed silence, and the busy, noisy camp
+was like a death chamber. When Alec's boy told them that his master grew
+each day weaker, they went about with tears running down their cheeks,
+and they would have wailed aloud, but that they knew he must not be
+disturbed. It seemed to Condamine that there was but one chance, and
+that was to hurry down, with forced marches, to the nearest station.
+There they would find a medical missionary to look after him and the
+comforts of civilisation which in the forest they so woefully lacked.
+
+Alec was delirious when they moved him. It was fortunate that he could
+not be told of Adamson's death, which had taken place three days before.
+The good, strong Scotchman had succumbed at last to the African climate;
+and on this, his third journey, having surmounted all the perils that
+had surrounded him for so long, almost on the threshold of home, he had
+sunk and died. He was buried at the foot of a great tree, far down so
+that the jackals might not find him, and Condamine with a shaking voice
+read over him the burial service from an English prayerbook.
+
+It seemed a miracle that Alec survived the exhaustion of the long
+tramp. He was jolted along elephant paths that led through dense bush,
+up stony hills and down again to the beds of dried-up rivers. Each time
+Condamine looked at the pale, wan man who lay in the litter, it was with
+a horrible fear that he would be dead. They began marching before
+sunrise, swiftly, to cover as much distance as was possible before the
+sun grew hot; they marched again towards sunset when a grateful coolness
+refreshed the weary patient. They passed through interminable forests,
+where the majestic trees sheltered under their foliage a wealth of
+graceful, tender plants: from trunk and branch swung all manner of
+creepers, which bound the forest giants in fantastic bonds. They forded
+broad streams, with exquisite care lest the sick man should come to
+hurt; they tramped through desolate marshes where the ground sunk under
+their feet. And at last they reached the station. Alec was still alive.
+
+For weeks the tender skill of the medical missionary and the loving
+kindness of his wife wrestled with death, and at length Alec was out of
+danger. His convalescence was very slow, and it looked often as though
+he would never entirely get back his health. But as soon as his mind
+regained its old activity, he resumed direction of the affairs which
+were so near his heart; and no sooner was his strength equal to it than
+he insisted on being moved to Nairobi, where he was in touch with
+civilisation, and, through the commissioner, could influence a supine
+government to accept the precious gift he offered. All this took many
+months, months of anxious waiting, months of bitter disappointment; but
+at length everything was done: the worthy Condamine was given the
+appointment that Alec had desired and set out once more for the
+interior; Great Britain took possession of the broad lands which Alec,
+by his skill, tact, perseverance and strength, had wrested from
+barbarism. His work was finished, and he could return to England.
+
+Public attention had been called at last to the greatness of his
+achievement, to the dangers he had run and the difficulties he had
+encountered; and before he sailed, he learned that the papers were
+ringing with his praise. A batch of cablegrams reached him, including
+one from Dick Lomas and one from Robert Boulger, congratulating him on
+his success. Two foreign potentates, through their consuls at Mombassa,
+bestowed decorations upon him; scientific bodies of all countries
+conferred on him the distinctions which were in their power to give;
+chambers of commerce passed resolutions expressing their appreciation of
+his services; publishers telegraphed offers for the book which they
+surmised he would write; newspaper correspondents came to him for a
+preliminary account of his travels. Alec smiled grimly when he read that
+an Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs had referred to him in a debate
+with honeyed words. No such enthusiasm had been aroused in England since
+Stanley returned from the journey which he afterwards described in
+_Darkest Africa_. When he left Mombassa the residents gave a dinner in
+his honour, and everyone who had the chance jumped up on his legs and
+made a speech. In short, after many years during which Alec's endeavours
+had been coldly regarded, when the government had been inclined to look
+upon him as a busybody, the tide turned; and he was in process of being
+made a national hero.
+
+Alec made up his mind to come home the whole way by sea, thinking that
+the rest of the voyage would give his constitution a chance to get the
+better of the ills which still troubled him; and at Gibraltar he
+received a letter from Dick. One had reached him at Suez; but that was
+mainly occupied with congratulations, and there was a tenderness due to
+the fear that Alec had hardly yet recovered from his dangerous illness,
+which made it, though touching to Alec, not so characteristic as the
+second.
+
+     _My Dear Alec:_
+
+     _I am delighted that you will return in the nick of time for the
+     London season. You will put the noses of the Christian Scientists
+     out of joint, and the New Theologians will argue no more in the
+     columns of the halfpenny papers. For you are going to be the lion
+     of the season. Comb your mane and have it neatly curled and
+     scented, for we do not like our lions unkempt; and learn how to
+     flap your tail; be sure you cultivate a proper roar because we
+     expect to shiver delightfully in our shoes at the sight of you, and
+     young ladies are already practising how to swoon with awe in your
+     presence. We have come to the conclusion that you are a hero, and
+     I, your humble servant, shine already with reflected glory because
+     for twenty years I have had the privilege of your acquaintance.
+     Duchesses, my dear boy, duchesses with strawberry leaves around
+     their snowy brows, (like the French grocer, I make a point of never
+     believing a duchess is more than thirty,) ask me to tea so that
+     they may hear me prattle of your childhood's happy days, and I have
+     promised to bring you to lunch with them, Tompkinson, whom you
+     once kicked at Eton, has written an article in Blackwood on the
+     beauty of your character; by which I take it that the hardness of
+     your boot has been a lasting, memory to him. All your friends are
+     proud of you, and we go about giving the uninitiated to understand
+     that nothing of all this would have happened except for our
+     encouragement. You will be surprised to learn how many people are
+     anxious to reward you for your services to the empire by asking you
+     to dinner. So far as I am concerned, I am smiling in my sleeve; for
+     I alone know what an exceedingly disagreeable person you are. You
+     are not a hero in the least, but a pig-headed beast who conquers
+     kingdoms to annoy quiet, self-respecting persons like myself who
+     make a point of minding their own business._
+
+                                      _Yours ever affectionately,_
+                                                _Richard Lomas._
+
+
+Alec smiled when he read the letter. It had struck him that there would
+be some attempt on his return to make a figure of him, and he much
+feared that his arrival in Southampton would be followed by an attack of
+interviewers. He was coming in a slow German ship, and at that moment a
+P. and O., homeward bound, put in at Gibraltar. By taking it he could
+reach England one day earlier and give everyone who came to meet him the
+slip. Leaving his heavy luggage, he got a steward to pack up the things
+he used on the journey, and in a couple of hours, after an excursion on
+shore to the offices of the company, found himself installed on the
+English boat.
+
+* * *
+
+But when the great ship entered the English Channel, Alec could
+scarcely bear his impatience. It would have astonished those who thought
+him unhuman if they had known the tumultuous emotions that rent his
+soul. His fellow-passengers never suspected that the bronzed, silent man
+who sought to make no acquaintance, was the explorer with whose name all
+Europe was ringing; and it never occurred to them that as he stood in
+the bow of the ship, straining his eyes for the first sight of England,
+his heart was so full that he would not have dared to speak. Each
+absence had intensified his love for that sea-girt land, and his eyes
+filled with tears of longing as he thought that soon now he would see it
+once more. He loved the murky waters of the English Channel because they
+bathed its shores, and he loved the strong west wind. The west wind
+seemed to him the English wind; it was the trusty wind of seafaring men,
+and he lifted his face to taste its salt buoyancy. He could not think of
+the white cliffs of England without a deep emotion; and when they passed
+the English ships, tramps outward bound or stout brigantines driving
+before the wind with their spreading sails, he saw the three-deckers of
+Trafalgar and the proud galleons of the Elizabethans. He felt a personal
+pride in those dead adventurers who were spiritual ancestors of his, and
+he was proud to be an Englishman because Frobisher and Effingham were
+English, and Drake and Raleigh and the glorious Nelson.
+
+And then his pride in the great empire which had sprung from that small
+island, a greater Rome in a greater world, dissolved into love as his
+wandering thoughts took him to green meadows and rippling streams. Now
+at last he need no longer keep so tight a rein upon his fancy, but
+could allow it to wander at will; and he thought of the green hedgerows
+and the pompous elm trees; he thought of the lovely wayside cottages
+with their simple flowers and of the winding roads that were so good to
+walk on. He was breathing the English air now, and his spirit was
+uplifted. He loved the grey soft mists of low-lying country, and he
+loved the smell of the heather as he stalked across the moorland. There
+was no river he knew that equalled the kindly Thames, with the fair
+trees of its banks and its quiet backwaters, where white swans gently
+moved amid the waterlilies. His thoughts went to Oxford, with its
+spires, bathed in a violet haze, and in imagination he sat in the old
+garden of his college, so carefully tended, so great with memories of
+the past. And he thought of London. There was a subtle beauty in its
+hurrying crowds, and there was beauty in the thronged traffic of its
+river: the streets had that indefinable hue which is the colour of
+London, and the sky had the gold and the purple of an Italian brocade.
+Now in Piccadilly Circus, around the fountain sat the women who sold
+flowers; and the gaiety of their baskets, rich with roses and daffodils
+and tulips, yellow and red, mingled with the sombre tones of the houses,
+the dingy gaudiness of 'buses and the sunny greyness of the sky.
+
+At last his thoughts went back to the outward voyage. George Allerton
+was with him then, and now he was alone. He had received no letter from
+Lucy since he wrote to tell her that George was dead. He understood her
+silence. But when he thought of George, his heart was bitter against
+fate because that young life had been so pitifully wasted. He
+remembered so well the eagerness with which he had sought to bind
+George to him, his desire to gain the boy's affection; and he remembered
+the dismay with which he learned that he was worthless. The frank smile,
+the open countenance, the engaging eyes, meant nothing; the boy was
+truthless, crooked of nature, weak. Alec remembered how, refusing to
+acknowledge the faults that were so plain, he blamed the difficulty of
+his own nature; and, when it was impossible to overlook them, his
+earnest efforts to get the better of them. But the effect of Africa was
+too strong. Alec had seen many men lose their heads under the influence
+of that climate. The feeling of an authority that seemed so little
+limited, over a race that was manifestly inferior, the subtle magic of
+the hot sunshine, the vastness, the remoteness from civilisation, were
+very apt to throw a man off his balance. The French had coined a name
+for the distemper and called it _folie d'Afrique_. Men seemed to go mad
+from a sense of power, to lose all the restraints which had kept them in
+the way of righteousness. It needed a strong head or a strong morality
+to avoid the danger, and George had neither. He succumbed. He lost all
+sense of shame, and there was no power to hold him. And it was more
+hopeless because nothing could keep him from drinking. When Macinnery
+had been dismissed for breaking Alec's most stringent law, things,
+notwithstanding George's promise of amendment, had only gone from bad to
+worse. Alec remembered how he had come back to the camp in which he had
+left George, to find the men mutinous, most of them on the point of
+deserting, and George drunk. He had flown then into such a rage that he
+could not control himself. He was ashamed to think of it. He had seized
+George by the shoulders and shaken him, shaken him as though he were a
+rat; and it was with difficulty that he prevented himself from thrashing
+him with his own hands.
+
+And at last had come the final madness and the brutal murder. Alec set
+his mind to consider once more those hazardous days during which by
+George's folly they had been on the brink of destruction. George had met
+his death on that desperate march to the ford, and lacking courage, had
+died miserably. Alec threw back his head with a curious movement.
+
+'I was right in all I did,' he muttered.
+
+George deserved to die, and he was unworthy to be lamented. And yet, at
+that moment, when he was approaching the shores which George, too,
+perhaps, had loved, Alec's heart was softened. He sighed deeply. It was
+fate. If George had inherited the wealth which he might have counted on,
+if his father had escaped that cruel end, he might have gone through
+life happily enough. He would have done no differently from his fellows.
+With the safeguards about him of a civilised state, his irresolution
+would have prevented him from going astray; and he would have been a
+decent country gentleman--selfish, weak, and insignificant perhaps, but
+not remarkably worse than his fellows--and when he died he might have
+been mourned by a loving wife and fond children.
+
+Now he lay on the borders of an African swamp, unsepulchred, unwept; and
+Alec had to face Lucy, with the story in his heart that he had sworn on
+his honour not to tell.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+
+Alec's first visit was to Lucy. No one knew that he had arrived, and
+after changing his clothes at the rooms in Pall Mall that he had taken
+for the summer, he walked to Charles Street. His heart leaped as he
+strolled up the hill of St. James Street, bright by a fortunate chance
+with the sunshine of a summer day; and he rejoiced in the gaiety of the
+well-dressed youths who sauntered down, bound for one or other of the
+clubs, taking off their hats with a rapid smile of recognition to
+charming women who sat in victorias or in electric cars. There was an
+air of opulence in the broad street, of a civilisation refined without
+brutality, which was very grateful to his eyes accustomed for so long to
+the wilderness of Africa.
+
+The gods were favourable to his wishes that day, for Lucy was at home;
+she sat in the drawing-room, by the window, reading a novel. At her side
+were masses of flowers, and his first glimpse of her was against a great
+bowl of roses. The servant announced his name, and she sprang up with a
+cry. She flushed with excitement, and then the blood fled from her
+cheeks, and she became extraordinarily pale. Alec noticed that she was
+whiter and thinner than when last he had seen her; but she was more
+beautiful.
+
+'I didn't expect you so soon,' she faltered.
+
+And then unaccountably tears came to her eyes. Falling back into her
+chair, she hid her face. Her heart began to beat painfully.
+
+'You must forgive me,' she said, trying to smile. 'I can't help being
+very silly.'
+
+For days Lucy had lived in an agony of terror, fearing this meeting, and
+now it had come upon her unexpectedly. More than four years had passed
+since last they had seen one another, and they had been years of anxiety
+and distress. She was certain that she had changed, and looking with
+pitiful dread in the glass, she told herself that she was pale and dull.
+She was nearly thirty. There were lines about her eyes, and her mouth
+had a bitter droop. She had no mercy on herself. She would not minimise
+the ravages of time, and with a brutal frankness insisted on seeing
+herself as she might be in ten years, when an increasing leanness,
+emphasising the lines and increasing the prominence of her features,
+made her still more haggard. She was seized with utter dismay. He might
+have ceased to love her. His life had been so full, occupied with
+strenuous adventures, while hers had been used up in waiting, only in
+waiting. It was natural enough that the strength of her passion should
+only have increased, but it was natural too that his should have
+vanished before a more urgent preoccupation. And what had she to offer
+him now? She turned away from the glass because her tears blurred the
+image it presented; and if she looked forward to the first meeting with
+vehement eagerness, it was also with sickening dread.
+
+And now she was so troubled that she could not adopt the attitude of
+civil friendliness which she had intended in order to show him that she
+made no claim upon him. She wanted to seem quite collected so that her
+behaviour should not lead him to think her heart at all affected, but
+she could only watch his eyes hungrily. She braced herself to restrain a
+wail of sorrow if she saw his disillusionment. He talked in order to
+give time for her to master her agitation.
+
+'I was afraid there would be interviewers and boring people generally to
+meet me if I came by the boat by which I was expected, so I got into
+another, and I've arrived a day before my time.'
+
+She was calmer now, and though she did not speak, she looked at him with
+strained attention, hanging on his words.
+
+He was very bronzed, thin after his recent illness, but he looked well
+and strong. His manner had the noble self-confidence which had delighted
+her of old, and he spoke with the quiet deliberation she loved. Now and
+then a faint inflection betrayed his Scottish birth.
+
+'I felt that I owed my first visit to you. Can you ever forgive me that
+I have not brought George home to you?'
+
+Lucy gave a sudden gasp. And with bitter self-reproach she realised that
+in the cruel joy of seeing Alec once more she had forgotten her brother.
+She was ashamed. It was but eighteen months since he had died, but
+twelve since the cruel news had reached her, and now, at this moment of
+all others, she was so absorbed in her love that no other feeling could
+enter her heart.
+
+She looked down at her dress. Its half-mourning still betokened that she
+had lost one who was very dear to her, but the black and white was a
+mockery. She remembered in a flash the stunning grief which Alec's
+letter had brought her. It seemed at first that there must be a mistake
+and that her tears were but part of a hateful dream. It was too
+monstrously unjust that the fates should have hit upon George. She had
+already suffered too much. And George was so young. It was very hard
+that a mere boy should be robbed of the precious jewel which is life.
+And when she realised that it was really true, her grief knew no bounds.
+All that she had hoped was come to nought, and now she could only
+despair. She bitterly regretted that she had ever allowed the boy to go
+on that fatal expedition, and she blamed herself because it was she who
+had arranged it. He must have died accusing her of his death. Her father
+was dead, and George was dead, and she was alone. Now she had only Alec;
+and then, like some poor stricken beast, her heart went out to him,
+crying for love, crying for protection. All her strength, the strength
+on which she had prided herself, was gone; and she felt utterly weak and
+utterly helpless. And her heart yearned for Alec, and the love which had
+hitherto been like a strong enduring light, now was a consuming fire.
+
+But Alec's words brought the recollection of George back to her
+reproachful heart, and she saw the boy as she was always pleased to
+remember him, in his flannels, the open shirt displaying his fine white
+neck, with the Panama hat that suited him so well; and she saw again his
+pleasant blue eyes and his engaging smile. He was a picture of honest
+English manhood. There was a sob in her throat, and her voice trembled
+when she spoke.
+
+'I told you that if he died a brave man's death I could ask no more.'
+
+She spoke in so low a tone that Alec could scarcely hear, but his pulse
+throbbed with pride at her courage. She went on, almost in a whisper.
+
+'I suppose it was predestined that our family should come to an end in
+this way. I'm thankful that George so died that his ancestors need have
+felt no shame for him.'
+
+'You are very brave.'
+
+She shook her head slowly.
+
+'No, it's not courage; it's despair. Sometimes, when I think what his
+father was, I'm thankful that George is dead. For at least his end was
+heroic. He died in a noble cause, in the performance of his duty. Life
+would have been too hard for him to allow me to regret his end.'
+
+Alec watched her. He foresaw the words that she would say, and he waited
+for them.
+
+'I want to thank you for all you did for him,' she said, steadying her
+voice.
+
+'You need not do that,' he answered, gravely.
+
+She was silent for a moment. Then she raised her eyes and looked at him
+steadily. Her voice now had regained its usual calmness.
+
+'I want you to tell me that he did all I could have wished him to do.'
+
+To Alec it seemed that she must notice the delay of his answer. He had
+not expected that the question would be put to him so abruptly. He had
+no moral scruples about telling a deliberate lie, but it affected him
+with a physical distaste. It sickened him like nauseous water.
+
+'Yes, I think he did.'
+
+'It's my only consolation that in the short time there was given to him,
+he did nothing that was small or mean, and that in everything he was
+honourable, upright, and just dealing.'
+
+'Yes, he was all that.'
+
+'And in his death?'
+
+It seemed to Alec that something caught at his throat. The ordeal was
+more terrible than he expected.
+
+'In his death he was without fear.'
+
+Lucy drew a deep breath of relief.
+
+'Oh, thank God! Thank God! You don't know how much it means to me to
+hear all that from your own lips. I feel that in a manner his courage,
+above all his death, have redeemed my father's fault. It shows that
+we're not rotten to the core, and it gives me back my self-respect. I
+feel I can look the world in the face once more. I'm infinitely grateful
+to George. He's repaid me ten thousand times for all my love, and my
+care, and my anxiety.'
+
+'I'm very glad that it is not only grief I have brought you. I was
+afraid you would hate me.'
+
+Lucy blushed, and there was a new light in her eyes. It seemed that on a
+sudden she had cast away the load of her unhappiness.
+
+'No, I could never do that.'
+
+At that moment they heard the sound of a carriage stopping at the door.
+
+'There's Aunt Alice,' said Lucy. 'She's been lunching out.'
+
+'Then let me go,' said Alec. 'You must forgive me, but I feel that I
+want to see no one else to-day.'
+
+He rose, and she gave him her hand. He held it firmly.
+
+'You haven't changed?'
+
+'Don't,' she cried.
+
+She looked away, for once more the tears were coming to her eyes. She
+tried to laugh.
+
+'I'm frightfully weak and emotional now. You'll utterly despise me.'
+
+'I want to see you again very soon,' he said.
+
+The words of Ruth came to her mind: _Why have I found grace in thine
+eyes, that thou shouldst take knowledge of me_, and her heart was very
+full. She smiled in her old charming way.
+
+When he was gone she drew a long breath. It seemed that a new joy was
+come into her life, and on a sudden she felt a keen pleasure in all the
+beauty of the world. She turned to the great bowl of flowers which stood
+on a table by the chair in which she had been sitting, and burying her
+face in them, voluptuously inhaled their fragrance. She knew that he
+loved her still.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+
+The fickle English weather for once belied its reputation, and the whole
+month of May was warm and fine. It seemed that the springtime brought
+back Lucy's youth to her; and, surrendering herself with all her heart
+to her new happiness, she took a girlish pleasure in the gaieties of the
+season. Alec had said nothing yet, but she was assured of his love, and
+she gave herself up to him with all the tender strength of her nature.
+She was a little overwhelmed at the importance which he seemed to have
+acquired, but she was very proud as well. The great ones of the earth
+were eager to do him honour. Papers were full of his praise. And it
+delighted her because he came to her for protection from lionising
+friends. She began to go out much more; and with Alec, Dick Lomas, and
+Mrs. Crowley, went much to the opera and often to the play. They had
+charming little dinner parties at the _Carlton_ and amusing suppers at
+the _Savoy_. Alec did not speak much on these occasions. It pleased him
+to sit by and listen, with a placid face but smiling eyes, to the
+nonsense that Dick Lomas and the pretty American talked incessantly. And
+Lucy watched him. Every day she found something new to interest her in
+the strong, sunburned face; and sometimes their eyes met: then they
+smiled quietly. They were very happy.
+
+* * *
+
+One evening Dick asked the others to sup with him; and since Alec had a
+public dinner to attend, and Lucy was going to the play with Lady
+Kelsey, he took Julia Crowley to the opera. To make an even number he
+invited Robert Boulger to join them at the _Savoy_. After brushing his
+hair with the scrupulous thought his thinning locks compelled, Dick
+waited in the vestibule for Mrs. Crowley. Presently she came, looking
+very pretty in a gown of flowered brocade which made her vaguely
+resemble a shepherdess in an old French picture. With her diamond
+necklace and a tiara in her dark hair, she looked like a dainty princess
+playing fantastically at the simple life.
+
+'I think people are too stupid,' she broke out, as she joined Dick.
+'I've just met a woman who said to me: "Oh, I hear you're going to
+America. Do go and call on my sister. She'll be so glad to see you." "I
+shall be delighted," I said, "but where does your sister live?"
+"Jonesville, Ohio," "Good heavens," I said, "I live in New York, and
+what should I be doing in Jonesville, Ohio?"'
+
+'Keep perfectly calm,' said Dick.
+
+'I shall not keep calm,' she answered. 'I hate to be obviously thought
+next door to a red Indian by a woman who's slab-sided and
+round-shouldered. And I'm sure she has dirty petticoats.'
+
+'Why?'
+
+'English women do.'
+
+'What a monstrous libel!' cried Dick.
+
+At that moment they saw Lady Kelsey come in with Lucy, and a moment
+later Alec and Robert Boulger joined them. They went in to supper and
+sat down.
+
+'I hate Amelia,' said Mrs. Crowley emphatically, as she laid her long
+white gloves by the side of her.
+
+'I deplore the prejudice with which you regard a very jolly sort of a
+girl,' answered Dick.
+
+'Amelia has everything that I thoroughly object to in a woman. She has
+no figure, and her legs are much too long, and she doesn't wear corsets.
+In the daytime she has a weakness for picture hats, and she can't say
+boo to a goose.'
+
+'Who is Amelia?' asked Boulger.
+
+'Amelia is Mr. Lomas' affianced wife,' answered the lady, with a
+provoking glance at him.
+
+'I didn't know you were going to be married, Dick,' said Lady Kelsey,
+inclined to be a little hurt because nothing had been said to her of
+this.
+
+'I'm not,' he answered. 'And I've never set eyes on Amelia yet. She is
+an imaginary character that Mrs. Crowley has invented as the sort of
+woman whom I would marry.'
+
+'I know Amelia,' Mrs. Crowley went on. 'She wears quantities of false
+hair, and she'll adore you. She's so meek and so quiet, and she thinks
+you such a marvel. But don't ask me to be nice to Amelia.'
+
+'My dear lady, Amelia wouldn't approve of you. She'd think you much too
+outspoken, and she wouldn't like your American accent. You must never
+forget that Amelia is the granddaughter of a baronet.'
+
+'I shall hold her up to Fleming as an awful warning of the woman whom I
+won't let him marry at any price. "If you marry a woman like that,
+Fleming," I shall say to him, "I shan't leave you a penny. It shall all
+go the University of Pennsylvania."'
+
+'If ever it is my good fortune to meet Fleming, I shall have great
+pleasure in kicking him hard,' said Dick. 'I think he's a most
+objectionable little beast.'
+
+'How can you be so absurd? Why, my dear Mr. Lomas, Fleming could take
+you up in one hand and throw you over a ten-foot wall.'
+
+'Fleming must be a sportsman,' said Bobbie, who did not in the least
+know whom they were talking about.
+
+'He is,' answered Mrs. Crowley. 'He's been used to the saddle since he
+was three years old, and I've never seen the fence that would make him
+lift a hair. And he's the best swimmer at Harvard, and he's a wonderful
+shot--I wish you could see him shoot, Mr. MacKenzie--and he's a dear.'
+
+'Fleming's a prig,' said Dick.
+
+'I'm afraid you're too old for Fleming,' said Mrs. Crowley, looking at
+Lucy. 'If it weren't for that, I'd make him marry you.'
+
+'Is Fleming your brother, Mrs. Crowley?' asked Lady Kelsey.
+
+'No, Fleming's my son.'
+
+'But you haven't got a son,' retorted the elder lady, much mystified.
+
+'No, I know I haven't; but Fleming would have been my son if I'd had
+one.'
+
+'You mustn't mind them, Aunt Alice,' smiled Lucy gaily. 'They argue by
+the hour about Amelia and Fleming, and neither of them exists; but
+sometimes they go into such details and grow so excited that I really
+begin to believe in them myself.'
+
+But Mrs. Crowley, though she appeared a light-hearted and thoughtless
+little person, had much common sense; and when their party was ended and
+she was giving Dick a lift in her carriage, she showed that,
+notwithstanding her incessant chatter, her eyes throughout the evening
+had been well occupied.
+
+'Did you owe Bobbie a grudge that you asked him to supper?' she asked
+suddenly.
+
+'Good heavens, no. Why?'
+
+'I hope Fleming won't be such a donkey as you are when he's your age.'
+
+'I'm sure Amelia will be much more polite than you to the amiable,
+middle-aged gentleman who has the good fortune to be her husband.'
+
+'You might have noticed that the poor boy was eating his heart out with
+jealousy and mortification, and Lucy was too much absorbed in Alec to
+pay the very smallest attention to him.'
+
+'What are you talking about?'
+
+Mrs. Crowley gave him a glance of amused disdain.
+
+'Haven't you noticed that Lucy is desperately in love with Mr.
+MacKenzie, and it doesn't move her in the least that poor Bobbie has
+fetched and carried for her for ten years, done everything she deigned
+to ask, and been generally nice and devoted and charming?'
+
+'You amaze me,' said Dick. 'It never struck me that Lucy was the kind of
+girl to fall in love with anyone. Poor thing. I'm so sorry.'
+
+'Why?'
+
+'Because Alec wouldn't dream of marrying. He's not that sort of man.'
+
+'Nonsense. Every man is a marrying man if a woman really makes up her
+mind to it.'
+
+'Don't say that. You terrify me.'
+
+'You need not be in the least alarmed,' answered Mrs. Crowley, coolly,
+'because I shall refuse you.'
+
+'It's very kind of you to reassure me,' he answered, smiling. 'But all
+the same I don't think I'll risk a proposal.'
+
+'My dear friend, your only safety is in immediate flight.'
+
+'Why?'
+
+'It must be obvious to the meanest intelligence that you've been on the
+verge of proposing to me for the last four years.'
+
+'Nothing will induce me to be false to Amelia.'
+
+'I don't believe that Amelia really loves you.'
+
+'I never said she did; but I'm sure she's quite willing to marry me.'
+
+'I think that's detestably vain.'
+
+'Not at all. However old, ugly, and generally undesirable a man is,
+he'll find a heap of charming girls who are willing to marry him.
+Marriage is still the only decent means of livelihood for a really nice
+woman.'
+
+'Don't let's talk about Amelia; let's talk about me,' said Mrs. Crowley.
+
+'I don't think you're half so interesting.'
+
+'Then you'd better take Amelia to the play to-morrow night instead of
+me.'
+
+'I'm afraid she's already engaged.'
+
+'Nothing will induce me to play second fiddle to Amelia.'
+
+'I've taken the seats and ordered an exquisite dinner at the _Carlton_.'
+
+'What have you ordered?'
+
+'_Potage bisque._'
+
+Mrs. Crowley made a little face.
+
+'_Sole Normande._'
+
+She shrugged her shoulders.
+
+'Wild duck.'
+
+'With an orange salad?'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+'I don't positively dislike that.'
+
+'And I've ordered a _souffle_ with an ice in the middle of it.'
+
+'I shan't come.'
+
+'Why?'
+
+'You're not being really nice to me.'
+
+'I shouldn't have thought you kept very well abreast of dramatic art if
+you insist on marrying everyone who takes you to a theatre,' he said.
+
+'I was very nicely brought up,' she answered demurely, as the carriage
+stopped at Dick's door.
+
+She gave him a ravishing smile as he took leave of her. She knew that he
+was quite prepared to marry her, and she had come to the conclusion that
+she was willing to have him. Neither much wished to hurry the affair,
+and each was determined that he would only yield to save the other from
+a fancied desperation. Their love-making was pursued with a light heart.
+
+* * *
+
+At Whitsuntide the friends separated. Alec went up to Scotland to see
+his house and proposed afterwards to spend a week in Lancashire. He had
+always taken a keen interest in the colliery which brought him so large
+an income, and he wanted to examine into certain matters that required
+his attention. Mrs. Crowley went to Blackstable, where she still had
+Court Leys, and Dick, in order to satisfy himself that he was not really
+a day older, set out for Paris. But they all arranged to meet again on
+the day, immediately after the holidays, which Lady Kelsey, having
+persuaded Lucy definitely to renounce her life of comparative
+retirement, had fixed for a dance. It was the first ball she had given
+for many years, and she meant it to be brilliant. Lady Kelsey had an
+amiable weakness for good society, and Alec's presence would add lustre
+to the occasion. Meanwhile she went with Lucy to her little place on the
+river, and did not return till two days before the party. They were
+spent in a turmoil of agitation. Lady Kelsey passed sleepless nights,
+fearing at one moment that not a soul would appear, and at another that
+people would come in such numbers that there would not be enough for
+them to eat. The day arrived.
+
+But then happened an event which none but Alec could in the least have
+expected; and he, since his return from Africa, had been so taken up
+with his love for Lucy, that the possibility of it had slipped his
+memory.
+
+Fergus Macinnery, the man whom three years before he had dismissed
+ignominiously from his service, found a way to pay off an old score.
+
+Of the people most nearly concerned in the matter, it was Lady Kelsey
+who had first news of it. The morning papers were brought into her
+_boudoir_ with her breakfast, and as she poured out her coffee, she ran
+her eyes lazily down the paragraphs of the _Morning Post_ in which are
+announced the comings and goings of society. Then she turned to the
+_Daily Mail_. Her attention was suddenly arrested. Staring at her, in
+the most prominent part of the page, was a column of printed matter
+headed: _The Death of Mr. George Allerton_. It was a letter, a column
+long, signed by Fergus Macinnery. Lady Kelsey read it with amazement and
+dismay. At first she could not follow it, and she read it again; now its
+sense was clear to her, and she was overcome with horror. In set words,
+mincing no terms, it accused Alec MacKenzie of sending George Allerton
+to his death in order to save himself. The words treachery and cowardice
+were used boldly. The dates were given, and the testimony of natives was
+adduced.
+
+The letter adverted with scathing sarcasm to the rewards and
+congratulations which had fallen to MacKenzie as a result of his
+labours; and ended with a challenge to him to bring an action for
+criminal libel against the writer. At first the whole thing seemed
+monstrous to Lady Kelsey, it was shameful, shameful; but in a moment she
+found there was a leading article on the subject, and then she did not
+know what to believe. It referred to the letter in no measured terms:
+the writer observed that _prima facie_ the case was very strong and
+called upon Alec to reply without delay. Big words were used, and there
+was much talk of a national scandal. An instant refutation was demanded.
+Lady Kelsey did not know what on earth to do, and her thoughts flew to
+the dance, the success of which would certainly be imperilled by these
+revelations. She must have help at once. This business, if it concerned
+the world in general, certainly concerned Lucy more than anyone. Ringing
+for her maid, she told her to get Dick Lomas on the telephone and ask
+him to come at once. While she was waiting, she heard Lucy come
+downstairs and knew that she meant to wish her good-morning. She hid the
+paper hurriedly.
+
+When Lucy came in and kissed her, she said:
+
+'What is the news this morning?'
+
+'I don't think there is any,' said Lady Kelsey, uneasily. 'Only the
+_Post_ has come; we shall really have to change our newsagent.'
+
+She waited with beating heart for Lucy to pursue the subject, but
+naturally enough the younger woman did not trouble herself. She talked
+to her aunt of the preparations for the party that evening, and then,
+saying that she had much to do, left her. She had no sooner gone than
+Lady Kelsey's maid came back to say that Lomas was out of town and not
+expected back till the evening. Distractedly Lady Kelsey sent messages
+to her nephew and to Mrs. Crowley. She still looked upon Bobbie as
+Lucy's future husband, and the little American was Lucy's greatest
+friend. They were both found. Boulger had gone down as usual to the
+city, but in consideration of Lady Kelsey's urgent request, set out at
+once to see her.
+
+He had changed little during the last four years, and had still a boyish
+look on his round, honest face. To Mrs. Crowley he seemed always an
+embodiment of British philistinism; and if she liked him for his
+devotion to Lucy, she laughed at him for his stolidity. When he arrived,
+Mrs. Crowley was already with Lady Kelsey. She had known nothing of the
+terrible letter, and Lady Kelsey, thinking that perhaps it had escaped
+him too, went up to him with the _Daily Mail_ in her hand.
+
+'Have you seen the paper, Bobbie?' she asked excitedly. 'What on earth
+are we to do?'
+
+He nodded.
+
+'What does Lucy say?' he asked.
+
+'Oh, I've not let her see it. I told a horrid fib and said the newsagent
+had forgotten to leave it.'
+
+'But she must know,' he answered gravely.
+
+'Not to-day,' protested Lady Kelsey. 'Oh, it's too dreadful that this
+should happen to-day of all days. Why couldn't they wait till to-morrow?
+After all Lucy's troubles it seemed as if a little happiness was coming
+back into her life, and now this dreadful thing happens.'
+
+'What are you going to do?' asked Bobbie.
+
+'What can I do?' said Lady Kelsey desperately. 'I can't put the dance
+off. I wish I had the courage to write and ask Mr. MacKenzie not to
+come.'
+
+Bobbie made a slight gesture of impatience. It irritated him that his
+aunt should harp continually on the subject of this wretched dance. But
+for all that he tried to reassure her.
+
+'I don't think you need be afraid of MacKenzie. He'll never venture to
+show his face.'
+
+'You don't mean to say you think there's any truth in the letter?'
+exclaimed Mrs. Crowley.
+
+He turned and faced her.
+
+'I've never read anything more convincing in my life.'
+
+Mrs. Crowley looked at him, and he returned her glance steadily.
+
+Of those three it was only Lady Kelsey who did not know that Lucy was
+deeply in love with Alec MacKenzie.
+
+'Perhaps you're inclined to be unjust to him,' said Mrs. Crowley.
+
+'We shall see if he has any answer to make,' he answered coldly. 'The
+evening papers are sure to get something out of him. The city is ringing
+with the story, and he must say something at once.'
+
+'It's quite impossible that there should be anything in it,' said Mrs.
+Crowley. 'We all know the circumstances under which George went out with
+him. It's inconceivable that he should have sacrificed him as callously
+as this man's letter makes out.'
+
+'We shall see.'
+
+'You never liked him, Bobbie,' said Lady Kelsey.
+
+'I didn't,' he answered briefly.
+
+'I wish I'd never thought of giving this horrid dance,' she moaned.
+
+Presently, however, they succeeded in calming Lady Kelsey. Though both
+thought it unwise, they deferred to her wish that everything should be
+hidden from Lucy till the morrow. Dick Lomas was arriving from Paris
+that evening, and it would be possible then to take his advice. When at
+last Mrs. Crowley left the elder woman to her own devices, her thoughts
+went to Alec. She wondered where he was, and if he already knew that his
+name was more prominently than ever before the public.
+
+* * *
+
+MacKenzie was travelling down from Lancashire. He was not a man who
+habitually read papers, and it was in fact only by chance that he saw a
+copy of the _Daily Mail_. A fellow traveller had with him a number of
+papers, and offered one of them to Alec. He took it out of mere
+politeness. His thoughts were otherwise occupied, and he scanned it
+carelessly. Suddenly he saw the heading which had attracted Lady
+Kelsey's attention. He read the letter, and he read the leading article.
+No one who watched him could have guessed that what he read concerned
+him so nearly. His face remained impassive. Then, letting the paper fall
+to the ground, he began to think. Presently he turned to the amiable
+stranger who had given him the paper, and asked him if he had seen the
+letter.
+
+'Awful thing, isn't it?' the man said.
+
+Alec fixed upon him his dark, firm eyes. The man seemed an average sort
+of person, not without intelligence.
+
+'What do you think of it?'
+
+'Pity,' he said. 'I thought MacKenzie was a great man. I don't know what
+he can do now but shoot himself.'
+
+'Do you think there's any truth in it?'
+
+'The letter's perfectly damning.'
+
+Alec did not answer. In order to break off the conversation he got up
+and walked into the corridor. He lit a cigar and watched the green
+fields that fled past them. For two hours he stood motionless. At last
+he took his seat again, with a shrug of the shoulders, and a scornful
+smile on his lips.
+
+The stranger was asleep, with his head thrown back and his mouth
+slightly open. Alec wondered whether his opinion of the affair would be
+that of the majority. He thought Alec should shoot himself?
+
+'I can see myself doing it,' Alec muttered.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+
+A few hours later Lady Kelsey's dance was in full swing, and to all
+appearances it was a great success. Many people were there, and everyone
+seemed to enjoy himself. On the surface, at all events, there was
+nothing to show that anything had occurred to disturb the evening's
+pleasure, and for most of the party the letter in the _Daily Mail_ was
+no more than a welcome topic of conversation.
+
+Presently Canon Spratte went into the smoking-room. He had on his arm,
+as was his amiable habit, the prettiest girl at the dance, Grace Vizard,
+a niece of that Lady Vizard who was a pattern of all the proprieties and
+a devout member of the Church of Rome. He found that Mrs. Crowley and
+Robert Boulger were already sitting there, and he greeted them
+courteously.
+
+'I really must have a cigarette,' he said, going up to the table on
+which were all the necessary things for refreshment.
+
+'If you press me dreadfully I'll have one, too,' said Mrs. Crowley, with
+a flash of her beautiful teeth.
+
+'Don't press her,' said Bobbie. 'She's had six already, and in a moment
+she'll be seriously unwell.'
+
+'Well, I'll forego the pressing, but not the cigarette.'
+
+Canon Spratte gallantly handed her the box, and gave her a light.
+
+'It's against all my principles, you know,' he smiled.
+
+'What is the use of principles except to give one an agreeable
+sensation of wickedness when one doesn't act up to them?'
+
+The words were hardly out of her mouth when Dick and Lady Kelsey
+appeared.
+
+'Dear Mrs. Crowley, you're as epigrammatic as a dramatist,' he
+exclaimed. 'Do you say such things from choice or necessity?'
+
+He had arrived late, and this was the first time she had seen him since
+they had all gone their ways before Whitsun. He mixed himself a whisky
+and soda.
+
+'After all, is there anything you know so thoroughly insufferable as a
+ball?' he said, reflectively, as he sipped it with great content.
+
+'Nothing, if you ask me pointblank,' said Lady Kelsey, smiling with
+relief because he took so flippantly the news she had lately poured into
+his ear. 'But it's excessively rude of you to say so.'
+
+'I don't mind yours, Lady Kelsey, because I can smoke as much as I
+please, and keep away from the sex which is technically known as fair.'
+
+Mrs. Crowley felt the remark was directed to her.
+
+'I'm sure you think us a vastly overrated institution, Mr. Lomas,' she
+murmured.
+
+'I venture to think the world was not created merely to give women an
+opportunity to wear Paris frocks.'
+
+'I'm rather pleased to hear you say that.'
+
+'Why?' asked Dick, on his guard.
+
+'We're all so dreadfully tired of being goddesses. For centuries foolish
+men have set us up on a pedestal and vowed they were unworthy to touch
+the hem of our garments. And it _is_ so dull.'
+
+'What a clever woman you are, Mrs. Crowley. You always say what you
+don't mean.'
+
+'You're really very rude.'
+
+'Now that impropriety is out of fashion, rudeness is the only short cut
+to a reputation for wit.'
+
+Canon Spratte did not like Dick. He thought he talked too much. It was
+fortunately easy to change the conversation.
+
+'Unlike Mr. Lomas, I thoroughly enjoy a dance,' he said, turning to Lady
+Kelsey. 'My tastes are ingenuous, and I can only hope you've enjoyed
+your evening as much as your guests.'
+
+'I?' cried Lady Kelsey. 'I've been suffering agonies.' They all knew to
+what she referred, and the remark gave Boulger an opportunity to speak
+to Dick Lomas.
+
+'I suppose you saw the _Mail_ this morning?' he asked.
+
+'I never read the papers except in August,' answered Dick drily.
+
+'When there's nothing in them?' asked Mrs. Crowley.
+
+'Pardon me, I am an eager student of the sea-serpent and of the giant
+gooseberry.'
+
+'I should like to kick that man,' said Bobbie, indignantly.
+
+Dick smiled.
+
+'My dear chap, Alec is a hardy Scot and bigger than you; I really
+shouldn't advise you to try.'
+
+'Of course you've heard all about this business?' said Canon Spratte.
+
+'I've only just arrived from Paris. I knew nothing of it till Lady
+Kelsey told me.'
+
+'What do you think?'
+
+'I don't think at all; I _know_ there's not a word of truth in it. Since
+Alec arrived at Mombassa, he's been acclaimed by everyone, private and
+public, who had any right to an opinion. Of course it couldn't last.
+There was bound to be a reaction.'
+
+'Do you know anything of this man Macinnery?' asked Boulger.
+
+'It so happens that I do. Alec found him half starving at Mombassa, and
+took him solely out of charity. But he was a worthless rascal and had to
+be sent back.'
+
+'He seems to me to give ample proof for every word he says,' retorted
+Bobbie.
+
+Dick shrugged his shoulders scornfully.
+
+'As I've already explained to Lady Kelsey, whenever an explorer comes
+home there's someone to tell nasty stories about him. People forget that
+kid gloves are not much use in a tropical forest, and they grow very
+indignant when they hear that a man has used a little brute force to
+make himself respected.'
+
+'All that's beside the point,' said Boulger, impatiently. 'MacKenzie
+sent poor George into a confounded trap to save his own dirty skin.'
+
+'Poor Lucy!' moaned Lady Kelsey. 'First her father died....'
+
+'You're not going to count that as an overwhelming misfortune?' Dick
+interrupted. 'We were unanimous in describing that gentleman's demise as
+an uncommon happy release.'
+
+'I was engaged to dine with him this evening,' said Bobbie, pursuing his
+own bitter reflections. 'I wired to say I had a headache and couldn't
+come.'
+
+'What will he think if he sees you here?' cried Lady Kelsey.
+
+'He can think what he likes.'
+
+Canon Spratte felt that it was needful now to put in the decisive word
+which he always expected from himself. He rubbed his hands blandly.
+
+'In this matter I must say I agree entirely with our friend Bobbie. I
+read the letter with the utmost care, and I could see no loophole of
+escape. Until Mr. MacKenzie gives a definite answer I can hardly help
+looking upon him as nothing less than a murderer. In these things I feel
+that one should have the courage of one's opinions. I saw him in
+Piccadilly this evening, and I cut him dead. Nothing will induce me to
+shake hands with a man on whom rests so serious an accusation.'
+
+'I hope to goodness he doesn't come,' said Lady Kelsey.
+
+Canon Spratte looked at his watch and gave her a reassuring smile.
+
+'I think you may feel quite safe. It's really growing very late.'
+
+'You say that Lucy doesn't know anything about this?' asked Dick.
+
+'No,' said Lady Kelsey. 'I wanted to give her this evening's enjoyment
+unalloyed.'
+
+Dick shrugged his shoulders again. He did not understand how Lady Kelsey
+expected no suggestion to reach Lucy of a matter which seemed a common
+topic of conversation. The pause which followed Lady Kelsey's words was
+not broken when Lucy herself appeared. She was accompanied by a spruce
+young man, to whom she turned with a smile.
+
+'I thought we should find your partner here.'
+
+He went to Grace Vizard, and claiming her for the dance that was about
+to begin, took her away. Lucy went up to Lady Kelsey and leaned over the
+chair in which she sat.
+
+'Are you growing very tired, my aunt?' she asked kindly.
+
+'I can rest myself till supper time. I don't think anyone else will come
+now.'
+
+'Have you forgotten Mr. MacKenzie?'
+
+Lady Kelsey looked up quickly, but did not reply. Lucy put her hand
+gently on her aunt's shoulder.
+
+'My dear, it was charming of you to hide the paper from me this morning.
+But it wasn't very wise.'
+
+'Did you see that letter?' cried Lady Kelsey. 'I so wanted you not to
+till to-morrow.'
+
+'Mr. MacKenzie very rightly thought I should know at once what was said
+about him and my brother. He sent me the paper himself this evening.'
+
+'Did he write to you?' asked Dick.
+
+'No, he merely scribbled on a card: _I think you should read this_.'
+
+No one answered. Lucy turned and faced them; her cheeks were pale, but
+she was very calm. She looked gravely at Robert Boulger, waiting for him
+to say what she knew was in his mind, so that she might express at once
+her utter disbelief in the charges that were brought against Alec. But
+he did not speak, and she was obliged to utter her defiant words without
+provocation.
+
+'He thought it unnecessary to assure me that he hadn't betrayed the
+trust I put in him.'
+
+'Do you mean to say the letter left any doubt in your mind?' said
+Boulger.
+
+'Why on earth should I believe the unsupported words of a subordinate
+who was dismissed for misbehaviour?'
+
+'For my part, I can only say that I never read anything more convincing
+in my life.'
+
+'I could hardly believe him guilty of such a crime if he confessed it
+with his own lips.'
+
+Bobbie shrugged his shoulders. It was only with difficulty that he held
+back the cruel words that were on his lips. But as if Lucy read his
+thoughts, her cheeks flushed.
+
+'I think it's infamous that you should all be ready to believe the
+worst,' she said hotly, in a low voice that trembled with indignant
+anger. 'You're all of you so petty, so mean, that you welcome the chance
+of spattering with mud a man who is so infinitely above you. You've not
+given him a chance to defend himself.'
+
+Bobbie turned very pale. Lucy had never spoken to him in such a way
+before, and wrath flamed up in his heart, wrath mixed with hopeless
+love. He paused for a moment to command himself.
+
+'You don't know apparently that interviewers went to him from the
+evening papers, and he refused to speak.'
+
+'He has never consented to be interviewed. Why should you expect him now
+to break his rule?'
+
+Bobbie was about to answer, when a sudden look of dismay on Lady
+Kelsey's face stopped him. He turned round and saw MacKenzie standing at
+the door. He came forward with a smile, holding out his hand, and
+addressed himself to Lady Kelsey.
+
+'I thought I should find you here,' he said.
+
+He was perfectly collected. He glanced around the room with a smile of
+quiet amusement. A certain embarrassment seized the little party, and
+Lady Kelsey, as she shook hands with him, was at a loss for words.
+
+'How do you do?' she faltered. 'We've just been talking of you.'
+
+'Really?'
+
+The twinkle in his eyes caused her to lose the remainder of her
+self-possession, and she turned scarlet.
+
+'It's so late, we were afraid you wouldn't come. I should have been
+dreadfully disappointed.'
+
+'It's very kind of you to say so. I've been at the _Travellers_, reading
+various appreciations of my character.'
+
+A hurried look of alarm crossed Lady Kelsey's good-tempered face.
+
+'Oh, I heard there was something about you in the papers,' she answered.
+
+'There's a good deal. I really had no idea the world was so interested
+in me.'
+
+'It's charming of you to come here to-night,' the good lady smiled,
+beginning to feel more at ease. 'I'm sure you hate dances.'
+
+'Oh, no, they interest me enormously. I remember, an African king once
+gave a dance in my honour. Four thousand warriors in war-paint. I assure
+you it was a most impressive sight.'
+
+'My dear fellow,' Dick chuckled, 'if paint is the attraction, you really
+need not go much further than Mayfair.'
+
+The scene amused him. He was deeply interested in Alec's attitude, for
+he knew him well enough to be convinced that his discreet gaiety was
+entirely assumed. It was impossible to tell by it what course he meant
+to adopt; and at the same time there was about him a greater
+unapproachableness, which warned all and sundry that it would be wiser
+to attempt no advance. But for his own part he did not care; he meant to
+have a word with Alec at the first opportunity.
+
+Alec's quiet eyes now rested on Robert Boulger.
+
+'Ah, there's my little friend Bobbikins. I thought you had a headache?'
+
+Lady Kelsey remembered her nephew's broken engagement and interposed
+quickly.
+
+'I'm afraid Bobbie is dreadfully dissipated. He's not looking at all
+well.'
+
+'You shouldn't keep such late hours,' said Alec, good-humouredly. 'At
+your age one needs one's beauty sleep.'
+
+'It's very kind of you to take an interest in me,' said Boulger,
+flushing with annoyance. 'My headache has passed off.'
+
+'I'm very glad. What do you use--phenacetin?'
+
+'It went away of its own accord after dinner,' returned Bobbie frigidly,
+conscious that he was being laughed at, but unable to extricate himself.
+
+'So you resolved to give the girls a treat by coming to Lady Kelsey's
+dance? How nice of you not to disappoint them!'
+
+Alec turned to Lucy, and they looked into one another's eyes.
+
+'I sent you a paper this evening,' he said gravely.
+
+'It was very good of you.'
+
+There was a silence. All who were present felt that the moment was
+impressive, and it needed Canon Spratte's determination to allow none
+but himself to monopolise attention, to bring to an end a situation
+which might have proved awkward. He came forward and offered his arm to
+Lucy.
+
+'I think this is my dance. May I take you in?'
+
+He was trying to repeat the direct cut which he had given Alec earlier
+in the day. Alec looked at him.
+
+'I saw you in Piccadilly this evening. You were dashing about like a
+young gazelle.'
+
+'I didn't see you,' said the Canon, frigidly.
+
+'I observed that you were deeply engrossed in the shop windows as I
+passed. How are you?'
+
+He held out his hand. For a moment the Canon hesitated to take it, but
+Alec's gaze compelled him.
+
+'How do you do?' he said.
+
+He felt, rather than heard, Dick's chuckle, and reddening, offered his
+arm to Lucy.
+
+'Won't you come, Mr. MacKenzie?' said Lady Kelsey, making the best of
+her difficulty.
+
+'If you don't mind, I'll stay and smoke a cigarette with Dick Lomas. You
+know, I'm not a dancing man.'
+
+It seemed that Alec was giving Dick the opportunity he sought, and as
+soon as they found themselves alone, the sprightly little man attacked
+him.
+
+'I suppose you know we were all beseeching Providence you'd have the
+grace to stay away to-night?' he said.
+
+'I confess that I suspected it,' smiled Alec. 'I shouldn't have come,
+only I wanted to see Miss Allerton.'
+
+'This fellow Macinnery proposes to make things rather uncomfortable, I
+imagine.'
+
+'I made a mistake, didn't I?' said Alec, with a thin smile. 'I should
+have dropped him in the river when I had no further use for him.'
+
+'What are you going to do?'
+
+'Nothing.'
+
+Dick stared at him.
+
+'Do you mean to say you're going to sit still and let them throw mud at
+you?'
+
+'If they want to.'
+
+'But look here, Alec, what the deuce is the meaning of the whole thing?'
+
+Alec looked at him quietly.
+
+'If I had intended to take the world in general into my confidence, I
+wouldn't have refused to see the interviewers who came to me this
+evening.'
+
+'We've known one another for twenty years, Alec,' said Dick.
+
+'Then you may be quite sure that if I refuse to discuss this matter with
+you, it must be for excellent reasons.'
+
+Dick sprang up excitedly.
+
+'But, good God! you must explain. You can't let a charge like this rest
+on you. After all, it's not Tom, Dick, or Harry that's concerned; it's
+Lucy's brother. You must speak.'
+
+'I've never yet discovered that I must do anything that I don't choose,'
+answered Alec.
+
+Dick flung himself into a chair. He knew that when Alec spoke in that
+fashion no power on earth could move him. The whole thing was entirely
+unexpected, and he was at a loss for words. He had not read the letter
+which was causing all the bother, and knew only what Lady Kelsey had
+told him. He had some hope that on a close examination various things
+would appear which must explain Alec's attitude; but at present it was
+incomprehensible.
+
+'Has it occurred to you that Lucy is very much in love with you, Alec?'
+he said at last.
+
+Alec did not answer. He made no movement.
+
+'What will you do if this loses you her love?'
+
+'I have counted the cost,' said Alec, coldly.
+
+He got up from his chair, and Dick saw that he did not wish to continue
+the discussion. There was a moment of silence, and then Lucy came in.
+
+'I've given my partner away to a wall-flower,' she said, with a faint
+smile. 'I felt I must have a few words alone with you.'
+
+'I will make myself scarce,' said Dick.
+
+They waited till he was gone. Then Lucy turned feverishly to Alec.
+
+'Oh, I'm so glad you've come. I wanted so much to see you.'
+
+'I'm afraid people have been telling you horrible things about me.'
+
+'They wanted to hide it from me.'
+
+'It never occurred to me that people _could_ say such shameful things,'
+he said gravely.
+
+It tormented him a little because it had been so easy to care nothing
+for the world's adulation, and it was so hard to care as little for its
+censure. He felt very bitter.
+
+He took Lucy's hand and made her sit on the sofa by his side.
+
+'There's something I must tell you at once.'
+
+She looked at him without answering.
+
+'I've made up my mind to give no answer to the charges that are brought
+against me.'
+
+Lucy looked up quickly, and their eyes met.
+
+'I give you my word of honour that I've done nothing which I regret. I
+swear to you that what I did was right with regard to George, and if it
+were all to come again I would do exactly as I did before.'
+
+She did not answer for a long time.
+
+'I never doubted you for a single moment,' she said at last.
+
+'That is all I care about.' He looked down, and there was a certain
+shyness in his voice when he spoke again. 'To-day is the first time I've
+wanted to be assured that I was trusted; and yet I'm ashamed to want
+it.'
+
+'Don't be too hard upon yourself,' she said gently. 'You're so afraid of
+letting your tenderness appear.'
+
+He seemed to give earnest thought to what she said. Lucy had never seen
+him more grave.
+
+'The only way to be strong is _never_ to surrender to one's weakness.
+Strength is merely a habit. I want you to be strong, too. I want you
+never to doubt me whatever you hear said.'
+
+'I gave my brother into your hands, and I said that if he died a brave
+man's death, I could ask for no more. You told me that such a death was
+his.'
+
+'I thought of you always, and everything I did was for your sake. Every
+single act of mine during these four years in Africa has been done
+because I loved you.'
+
+It was the first time since his return that he had spoken of love. Lucy
+bent her head still lower.
+
+'Do you remember, I asked you a question before I went away? You refused
+to marry me then, but you told me that if I asked again when I came
+back, the answer might be different.'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+'The hope bore me up in every difficulty and in every danger. And when I
+came back I dared not ask you at once; I was so afraid that you would
+refuse once more. And I didn't wish you to think yourself bound by a
+vague promise. But each day I loved you more passionately.'
+
+'I knew, and I was very grateful for your love.'
+
+'Yesterday I could have offered you a certain name. I only cared for the
+honours they gave me so that I might put them at your feet. But what can
+I offer you now?'
+
+'You must love me always, Alec, for now I have only you.'
+
+'Are you sure that you will never believe that I am guilty of this
+crime?'
+
+'Why can you say nothing in self-defence?'
+
+'That I can't tell you either.'
+
+There was a silence between them. At last Alec spoke again.
+
+'But perhaps it will be easier for you to believe in me than for others,
+because you know that I loved you, and I can't have done the odious
+thing of which that man accuses me.'
+
+'I will never believe it. I do not know what your reasons are for
+keeping all this to yourself, but I trust you, and I know that they are
+good. If you cannot speak, it is because greater interests hold you
+back. I love you, Alec, with all my heart, and if you wish me to be your
+wife I shall be proud and honoured.'
+
+He took her in his arms, and as he kissed her, she wept tears of
+happiness. She did not want to think. She wanted merely to surrender
+herself to his strength.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+
+Lady Kelsey's devout hope that her party would finish without
+unpleasantness was singularly frustrated. Robert Boulger was irritated
+beyond endurance by the things Lucy had said to him; and Lucy besides,
+as if to drive him to distraction, had committed a peculiar
+indiscretion. In her determination to show the world in general,
+represented then by the two hundred people who were enjoying Lady
+Kelsey's hospitality, that she, the person most interested, did not for
+an instant believe what was said about Alec, Lucy had insisted on
+dancing with him. Alec thought it unwise thus to outrage conventional
+opinion, but he could not withstand her fiery spirit. Dick and Mrs.
+Crowley were partners at the time, and the disapproval which Lucy saw in
+their eyes, made her more vehement in her defiance. She had caught
+Bobbie's glance, too, and she flung back her head a little as she saw
+his livid anger.
+
+Little by little Lady Kelsey's guests bade her farewell, and at three
+o'clock few were left. Lucy had asked Alec to remain till the end, and
+he and Dick had taken refuge in the smoking-room. Presently Boulger came
+in with two men, named Mallins and Carbery, whom Alec knew slightly. He
+glanced at Alec, and went up to the table on which were cigarettes and
+various things to drink. His companions had no idea that he was bent
+upon an explanation and had asked them of set purpose to come into that
+room.
+
+'May we smoke here, Bobbie?' asked one of them, a little embarrassed at
+seeing Alec, but anxious to carry things off pleasantly.
+
+'Certainly. Dick insisted that this room should be particularly reserved
+for that purpose.'
+
+'Lady Kelsey is the most admirable of all hostesses,' said Dick lightly.
+
+He took out his case and offered a cigarette to Alec. Alec took it.
+
+'Give me a match, Bobbikins, there's a good boy,' he said carelessly.
+
+Boulger, with his back turned to Alec, took no notice of the request. He
+poured himself out some whisky, and raising the glass, deliberately
+examined how much there was in it. Alec smiled faintly.
+
+'Bobbie, throw me over the matches,' he repeated.
+
+At that moment Lady Kelsey's butler came into the room with a salver,
+upon which he put the dirty glasses. Bobbie, his back still turned,
+looked up at the servant.
+
+'Miller.'
+
+'Yes, sir.'
+
+'Mr. MacKenzie is asking for something.'
+
+'Yes, sir.'
+
+'You might give me a match, will you?' said Alec.
+
+'Yes, sir.'
+
+The butler put the matches on his salver and took them over to Alec, who
+lit his cigarette.
+
+'Thank you.'
+
+No one spoke till the butler left the room. Alec occupied himself idly
+in making smoke rings, and he watched them rise into the air. When they
+were alone he turned slowly to Boulger.
+
+'I perceive that during my absence you have not added good manners to
+your other accomplishments,' he said.
+
+Boulger wheeled round and faced him.
+
+'If you want things you can ask servants for them.'
+
+'Don't be foolish,' smiled Alec, good-humouredly.
+
+Alec's contemptuous manner robbed Boulger of his remaining self-control.
+He strode angrily to Alec.
+
+'If you talk to me like that I'll knock you down.'
+
+Alec was lying stretched out on the sofa, and did not stir. He seemed
+completely unconcerned.
+
+'You could hardly do that when I'm already lying on my back,' he
+murmured.
+
+Boulger clenched his fists. He gasped in the fury of his anger.
+
+'Look here, MacKenzie, I'm not going to let you play the fool with me. I
+want to know what answer you have to make to Macinnery's accusation.'
+
+'Might I suggest that only Miss Allerton has the least right to receive
+answers to her questions? And she hasn't questioned me.'
+
+'I've given up trying to understand her attitude. If I were she, it
+would make me sick with horror to look at you. But after all I have the
+right to know something. George Allerton was my cousin.'
+
+Alec rose slowly from the sofa. He faced Boulger with an indifference
+which was peculiarly irritating.
+
+'That is a fact upon which he did not vastly pride himself.'
+
+'Since this morning you've rested under a perfectly direct charge of
+causing his death in a dastardly manner. And you've said nothing in
+self-defence.'
+
+'I haven't.'
+
+'You've been given an opportunity of explaining yourself, and you
+haven't taken it.'
+
+'Quite true.'
+
+'What are you going to do?'
+
+Alec had already been asked that question by Dick, and he returned the
+same answer.
+
+'Nothing.'
+
+Bobbie looked at him for an instant. Then he shrugged his shoulders.
+
+'In that case I can draw only one conclusion. There appears to be no
+means of bringing you to justice, but at least I can tell you what an
+indescribable blackguard I think you.'
+
+'All is over between us,' smiled Alec, faintly amused at the young man's
+violence. 'And shall I return your letters and your photographs?'
+
+'I assure you that I'm not joking,' answered Bobbie grimly.
+
+'I have observed that you joke with difficulty. It's singular that
+though I'm Scotch and you are English, I should be able to see how
+ridiculous you are, while you're quite blind to your own absurdity.'
+
+'Come, Alec, remember he's only a boy,' remonstrated Dick, who till now
+had been unable to interpose.
+
+Boulger turned upon him angrily.
+
+'I'm perfectly able to look after myself, Dick, and I'll thank you not
+to interfere.' He looked again at Alec: 'If Lucy's so indifferent to her
+brother's death that she's willing to keep up with you, that's her own
+affair.'
+
+Dick interrupted once more.
+
+'For heaven's sake don't make a scene, Bobbie. How can you make such a
+fool of yourself?'
+
+'Leave me alone, confound you!'
+
+'Do you think this is quite the best place for an altercation?' asked
+Alec quietly. 'Wouldn't you gain more notoriety if you attacked me in my
+club or at Church Parade on Sunday?'
+
+'It's mere shameless impudence that you should come here to-night,'
+cried Bobbie, his voice hoarse with passion. 'You're using these
+wretched women as a shield, because you know that as long as Lucy sticks
+to you, there are people who won't believe the story.'
+
+'I came for the same reason as yourself, dear boy. Because I was
+invited.'
+
+'You acknowledge that you have no defence.'
+
+'Pardon me, I acknowledge nothing and deny nothing.'
+
+'That won't do for me,' said Boulger. 'I want the truth, and I'm going
+to get it. I've got a right to know.'
+
+'Don't make such an ass of yourself,' cried Alec, shortly.
+
+'By God, I'll make you answer.'
+
+He went up to Alec furiously, as if he meant to seize him by the throat,
+but Alec, with a twist of the arm, hurled him backwards.
+
+'I could break your back, you silly boy,' he cried, in a voice low with
+anger.
+
+With a cry of rage Bobbie was about to spring at Alec when Dick got in
+his way.
+
+'For God's sake, let us have no scenes here. And you'll only get the
+worst of it, Bobbie. Alec could just crumple you up.' He turned to the
+two men who stood behind, startled by the unexpectedness of the
+quarrel. 'Take him away, Mallins, there's a good chap.'
+
+'Let me alone, you fool!' cried Bobbie.
+
+'Come along, old man,' said Mallins, recovering himself.
+
+When his two friends had got Bobbie out of the room, Dick heaved a great
+sigh of relief.
+
+'Poor Lady Kelsey!' he laughed, beginning to see the humour of the
+situation. 'To-morrow half London will be saying that you and Bobbie had
+a stand-up fight in her drawing-room.'
+
+Alec looked at him angrily. He was not a man of easy temper, and the
+effort he had put upon himself was beginning to tell.
+
+'You really needn't have gone out of your way to infuriate the boy,'
+said Dick.
+
+Alec wheeled round wrathfully.
+
+'The damned cubs,' he said. 'I should like to break their silly necks.'
+
+'You have an amiable character, Alec,' retorted Dick.
+
+Alec began to walk up and down excitedly. Dick had never seen him before
+in such a state.
+
+'The position is growing confoundedly awkward,' he said drily.
+
+Then Alec burst out.
+
+'They lick my boots till I loathe them, and then they turn against me
+like a pack of curs. Oh, I despise them, these silly boys who stay at
+home wallowing in their ease, while men work--work and conquer. Thank
+God, I've done with them now. They think one can fight one's way through
+Africa as easily as walk down Piccadilly. They think one goes through
+hardship and danger, illness and starvation, to be the lion of a
+dinner-party in Mayfair.'
+
+'I think you're unfair to them,' answered Dick. 'Can't you see the other
+side of the picture? You're accused of a particularly low act of
+treachery. Your friends were hoping that you'd be able to prove at once
+that it was an abominable lie, and for some reason which no one can make
+out, you refuse even to notice it.'
+
+'My whole life is proof that it's a lie.'
+
+'Don't you think you'd better change your mind and make a statement that
+can be sent to the papers?'
+
+'No, damn you!'
+
+Dick's good nature was imperturbable, and he was not in the least
+annoyed by Alec's vivacity.
+
+'My dear chap, do calm down,' he laughed.
+
+Alec started at the sound of his mocking. He seemed again to become
+aware of himself. It was interesting to observe the quite visible effort
+he made to regain his self-control. In a moment he had mastered his
+excitement, and he turned to Dick with studied nonchalance.
+
+'Do you think I look wildly excited?' he asked blandly.
+
+Dick smiled.
+
+'If you will permit me to say so, I think butter would have _no_
+difficulty in melting in your mouth,' he replied.
+
+'I never felt cooler in my life.'
+
+'Lucky man, with the thermometer at a hundred and two!'
+
+Alec laughed and put his arm through Dick's.
+
+'Perhaps we had better go home,' he said.
+
+'Your common sense is no less remarkable than your personal appearance,'
+answered Dick gravely.
+
+They had already bidden their hostess good-night, and getting their
+things, they set out to walk their different ways. When Dick got home he
+did not go to bed. He sat in an armchair, considering the events of the
+evening, and trying to find some way out of the complexity of his
+thoughts. He was surprised when the morning sun sent a bright ray of
+light into his room.
+
+* * *
+
+But Lady Kelsey was not yet at the end of her troubles. Bobbie, having
+got rid of his friends, went to her and asked if she would not come
+downstairs and drink a cup of soup. The poor lady, quite exhausted,
+thought him very considerate. One or two persons, with their coats on,
+were still in the room, waiting for their womenkind; and in the hall
+there was a little group of belated guests huddled around the door,
+while cabs and carriages were being brought up for them. There was about
+everyone the lassitude which follows the gaiety of a dance. The waiters
+behind the tables were heavy-eyed. Lucy was bidding good-bye to one or
+two more intimate friends.
+
+Lady Kelsey drank the hot soup with relief.
+
+'My poor legs are dropping,' she said. 'I'm sure I'm far too tired to go
+to sleep.'
+
+'I want to talk to Lucy before I go,' said Bobbie, abruptly.
+
+'To-night?' she asked in dismay.
+
+'Yes, I want you to send her a message that you wish to see her in your
+_boudoir_.'
+
+'Why, what on earth's the matter?'
+
+'She can't go on in this way. It's perfectly monstrous. Something must
+be done immediately.'
+
+Lady Kelsey understood what he was driving at. She knew how great was
+his love, and she, too, had seen his anger when Lucy danced with Alec
+MacKenzie. But the whole affair perplexed her utterly. She put down her
+cup.
+
+'Can't you wait till to-morrow?' she asked nervously.
+
+'I feel it ought to be settled at once.'
+
+'I think you're dreadfully foolish. You know how Lucy resents any
+interference with her actions.'
+
+'I shall bear her resentment with fortitude,' he said, with great
+bitterness.
+
+Lady Kelsey looked at him helplessly.
+
+'What do you want me to do?' she asked.
+
+'I want you to be present at our interview.'
+
+He turned to a servant and told him to ask Miss Allerton from Lady
+Kelsey if she would kindly come to the _boudoir_. He gave his arm to
+Lady Kelsey, and they went upstairs. In a moment Lucy appeared.
+
+'Did you send for me, my aunt? I'm told you want to speak to me here.'
+
+'I asked Aunt Alice to beg you to come here,' said Boulger. 'I was
+afraid you wouldn't if I asked you.'
+
+Lucy looked at him with raised eyebrows and answered lightly.
+
+'What nonsense! I'm always delighted to enjoy your society.'
+
+'I wanted to speak to you about something, and I thought Aunt Alice
+should be present.'
+
+Lucy gave him a quick glance. He met it coolly.
+
+'Is it so important that it can't wait till to-morrow?'
+
+'I venture to think it's very important. And by now everybody has gone.'
+
+'I'm all attention,' she smiled.
+
+Boulger hesitated for a moment, then braced himself for the ordeal.
+
+'I've told you often, Lucy, that I've been desperately in love with you
+for more years than I can remember,' he said, flushing with nervousness.
+
+'Surely you've not snatched me from my last chance of a cup of soup in
+order to make me a proposal of marriage?'
+
+'I'm perfectly serious, Lucy.'
+
+'I assure you it doesn't suit you at all,' she smiled.
+
+'The other day I asked you again to marry me, just before Alec MacKenzie
+came back.'
+
+A softer light came into Lucy's eyes, and the bantering tones fell away
+from her voice.
+
+'It was very charming of you,' she said gravely. 'You mustn't think that
+because I laugh at you a little, I'm not very grateful for your
+affection.'
+
+'You know how long he's cared for you, Lucy,' said Lady Kelsey.
+
+Lucy went up to him and very tenderly placed her hand on his arm.
+
+'I'm immensely touched by your great devotion, Bobbie, and I know that
+I've done nothing to deserve it. I'm very sorry that I can't give you
+anything in return. One's not mistress of one's love. I can only
+hope--with all my heart--that you'll fall in love with some girl who
+cares for you. You don't know how much I want you to be happy.'
+
+Boulger drew back coldly. He would not allow himself to be touched,
+though the sweetness of her voice tore his heart-strings.
+
+'Just now it's not my happiness that's concerned,' he said. 'When Alec
+MacKenzie came back I thought I saw why nothing that I could do, had
+the power to change the utter indifference with which you looked at me.'
+
+He paused a moment and coughed uneasily.
+
+'I don't know why you think it necessary to say all this,' said Lucy, in
+a low voice.
+
+'I tried to resign myself. You've always worshipped strength, and I
+understood that you must think Alec MacKenzie very wonderful. I had
+little enough to offer you when I compared myself with him. I hoped
+against hope that you weren't in love with him.'
+
+'Well?'
+
+'Except for that letter in this morning's paper I should never have
+dared to say anything to you again. But that changes everything.'
+
+He paused once more. Though he tried to seem so calm, his heart was
+beating furiously. He really loved Lucy with all his soul, and he was
+doing what seemed to him a plain duty.
+
+'I ask you again if you'll be my wife.'
+
+'I don't understand what you mean,' she said slowly.
+
+'You can't marry Alec MacKenzie now.'
+
+Lucy flung back her head. She grew very pale.
+
+'You have no right to talk to me like this,' she said. 'You really
+presume too much upon my good nature.'
+
+'I think I have some right. I'm the only man who's related to you at
+all, and I love you.'
+
+They saw that Lady Kelsey wanted to speak, and Lucy turned round to her.
+
+'I think you should listen to him, Lucy. I'm growing old, and soon
+you'll be quite alone in the world.'
+
+The simple kindness of her words calmed the passions of the other two,
+and brought down the conversation to a gentler level.
+
+'I'll try my best to make you a good husband, Lucy,' said Bobbie, very
+earnestly. 'I don't ask you to care for me; I only want to serve you.'
+
+'I can only repeat that I'm very grateful to you. But I can't marry you,
+and I shall never marry you.'
+
+Boulger's face grew darker, and he was silent.
+
+'Are you going to continue to know Alec MacKenzie?' he asked at length.
+
+'You have no right to ask me such a question.'
+
+'If you'll take the advice of any unprejudiced person about that letter,
+you'll find that he'll say the same as I. There can be no shadow of a
+doubt that the man is guilty of a monstrous crime.'
+
+'I don't care what the evidence is,' said Lucy. 'I know he can't have
+done a shameful thing.'
+
+'But, good God, have you forgotten that it's your own brother whom he
+killed!' he cried hotly. 'The whole country is up in arms against him,
+and you are quite indifferent.'
+
+'Oh, Bobbie, how can you say that?' she wailed, suddenly moved to the
+very depths of her being. 'How can you be so cruel?'
+
+He went up to her, and they stood face to face. He spoke very quickly,
+flinging the words at her with indignant anger.
+
+'If you cared for George at all, you must wish to punish the man who
+caused his death. At least you can't continue to be his'--he stopped as
+he saw the agony in her eyes, and changed his words--'his greatest
+friend. It was your doing that George went to Africa at all. The least
+thing you can do is to take some interest in his death.'
+
+She put up her hands to her eyes, as though to drive away the sight of
+hateful things.
+
+'Oh, why do you torment me?' she cried pitifully. 'I tell you he isn't
+guilty.'
+
+'He's refused to answer anyone. I tried to get something out of him, but
+I couldn't, and I lost my temper. He might give you the truth if you
+asked him pointblank.'
+
+'I couldn't do that.'
+
+'Why not?'
+
+'It's very strange that he should insist on this silence,' said Lady
+Kelsey. 'One would have thought if he had nothing to be ashamed of, he'd
+have nothing to hide.'
+
+'Do you believe that story, too?' asked Lucy.
+
+'I don't know what to believe. It's so extraordinary. Dick says he knows
+nothing about it. If the man's innocent, why on earth doesn't he speak?'
+
+'He knows I trust him,' said Lucy. 'He knows I'm proud to trust him. Do
+you think I would cause him the great pain of asking him questions?'
+
+'Are you afraid he couldn't answer them?' asked Boulger.
+
+'No, no, no.'
+
+'Well, just try. After all you owe as much as that to the memory of
+George. Try.'
+
+'But don't you see that if he won't say anything, it's because there are
+good reasons,' she cried distractedly. 'How do I know what interests are
+concerned in the matter, beside which the death of George is
+insignificant....'
+
+'Do you look upon it so lightly as that?'
+
+She turned away, bursting into tears. She was like a hunted beast. There
+seemed no escape from the taunting questions.
+
+'I must show my faith in him,' she sobbed.
+
+'I think you're a little nervous to go into the matter too closely.'
+
+'I believe in him implicitly. I believe in him with all the strength
+I've got.'
+
+'Then surely it can make no difference if you ask him. There can be no
+reason for him not to trust you.'
+
+'Oh, why don't you leave me alone?' she wailed.
+
+'I do think it's very unreasonable, Lucy,' said Lady Kelsey. 'He knows
+you're his friend. He can surely count on your discretion.'
+
+'If he refused to answer me it would mean nothing. You don't know him as
+I do. He's a man of extraordinary character. If he has made up his mind
+that for certain reasons which we don't know, he must preserve an entire
+silence, nothing whatever will move him. Why should he answer? I believe
+in him absolutely. I think he's the greatest and most honourable man
+I've ever known. I should feel happy and grateful to be allowed to wait
+on him.'
+
+'Lucy, what _do_ you mean?' cried Lady Kelsey.
+
+But now Lucy had cast off all reserve. She did not mind what she said.
+
+'I mean that I care more for his little finger than for the whole world.
+I love him with all my heart. And that's why he can't be guilty of this
+horrible thing, because I've loved him for years, and he's known it. And
+he loves me, and he's loved me always.'
+
+She sank exhausted into a chair, gasping for breath. Boulger looked at
+her for a moment, and he turned sick with anguish. What he had only
+suspected before, he knew now from her own lips; and it was harder than
+ever to bear. Now everything seemed ended.
+
+'Are you going to marry him?' he asked.
+
+'Yes.'
+
+'In spite of everything?'
+
+'In spite of everything,' she answered defiantly.
+
+Bobbie choked down the groan of despairing rage that forced its way to
+his throat. He watched her for a moment.
+
+'Good God,' he said at last, 'what is there in the man that he should
+have made you forget love and honour and common decency!'
+
+Lucy made no reply. But she buried her face in her hands and wept. She
+rocked to and fro with the violence of her tears.
+
+Without another word Bobbie turned round and left them. Lady Kelsey
+heard the door slam as he went out into the silent street.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+
+Next day Alec was called up to Lancashire.
+
+When he went out in the morning, he saw on the placards of the evening
+papers that there had been a colliery explosion, but, his mind absorbed
+in other things, he paid no attention to it; and it was with a shock
+that, on opening a telegram which waited for him at his club, he found
+that the accident had occurred in his own mine. Thirty miners were
+entombed, and it was feared that they could not be saved. Immediately
+all thought of his own concerns fled from him, and sending for a
+time-table, he looked out a train. He found one that he could just
+catch. He took a couple of telegram forms in the cab with him, and on
+one scribbled instructions to his servant to follow him at once with
+clothes; the other he wrote to Lucy.
+
+He just caught the train and in the afternoon found himself at the mouth
+of the pit. There was a little crowd around it of weeping women. All
+efforts to save the wretched men appeared to be useless. Many had been
+injured, and the manager's house had been converted into a hospital.
+Alec found everyone stunned by the disaster, and the attempts at rescue
+had been carried on feebly. He set himself to work at once. He put heart
+into the despairing women. He brought up everyone who could be of the
+least use and inspired them with his own resourceful courage. The day
+was drawing to a close, but no time could be lost; and all night they
+toiled. Alec, in his shirt sleeves, laboured as heartily as the
+strongest miner; he seemed to want neither rest nor food. With clenched
+teeth, silently, he fought a battle with death, and the prize was thirty
+living men. In the morning he refreshed himself with a bath, paid a
+hurried visit to the injured, and returned to the pit mouth.
+
+He had no time to think of other things. He did not know that on this
+very morning another letter appeared in the _Daily Mail_, filling in the
+details of the case against him, adding one damning piece of evidence to
+another; he did not know that the papers, amazed and indignant at his
+silence, now were unanimous in their condemnation. It was made a party
+matter, and the radical organs used the scandal as a stick to beat the
+dying donkey which was then in power. A question was put down to be
+asked in the House.
+
+Alec waged his good fight and neither knew nor cared that the bubble of
+his glory was pricked. Still the miners lived in the tomb, and
+forty-eight hours passed. Hope was failing in the stout hearts of those
+who laboured by his side, but Alec urged them to greater endeavours. And
+now nothing was needed but a dogged perseverance. His tremendous
+strength stood him in good stead, and he was able to work twenty hours
+on end. He did not spare himself. And he seemed able to call prodigies
+of endurance out of those who helped him; with that example it seemed
+easier to endure. And still they toiled unrestingly. But their hope was
+growing faint. Behind that wall thirty men were lying, hopeless,
+starving; and some perhaps were dead already. And it was terrible to
+think of the horrors that assailed them, the horror of rising water,
+the horror of darkness, and the gnawing pangs of hunger. Among them was
+a boy of fourteen. Alec had spoken to him by chance on one of the days
+he had recently spent there, and had been amused by his cheeky
+brightness. He was a blue-eyed lad with a laughing mouth. It was pitiful
+to think that all that joy of life should have been crushed by a blind,
+stupid disaster. His father had been killed, and his body, charred and
+disfigured, lay in the mortuary. The boy was imprisoned with his
+brother, a man older than himself, married, and the father of children.
+With angry vehemence Alec set to again. He would not be beaten.
+
+At last they heard sounds, faint and muffled, but unmistakable. At all
+events some of them were still alive. The rescuers increased their
+efforts. Now it was only a question of hours. They were so near that it
+renewed their strength; all fatigue fell from them; it needed but a
+little courage.
+
+At last!
+
+With a groan of relief which tried hard to be a cheer, the last barrier
+was broken, and the prisoners were saved. They were brought out one by
+one, haggard, with sunken eyes that blinked feebly in the sun-light;
+their faces were pale with the shadow of death, and they could not stand
+on their feet. The bright-eyed boy was carried out in Alec's strong
+arms, and he tried to make a jest of it; but the smile on his lips was
+changed into a sob, and hiding his face in Alec's breast, he cried from
+utter weakness. They carried out his brother, and he was dead. His wife
+was waiting for him at the pit's mouth, with her children by her side.
+
+This commonplace incident, briefly referred to in the corner of a
+morning paper, made his own affairs strangely unimportant to Alec. Face
+to face with the bitter tragedy of women left husbandless, of orphaned
+children, and the grim horror of men cut off in the prime of their
+manhood, the agitation which his own conduct was causing fell out of
+view. He was harassed and anxious. Much business had to be done which
+would allow of no delay. It was necessary to make every effort to get
+the mine once more into working order; it was necessary to provide for
+those who had lost the breadwinner. Alec found himself assailed on all
+sides with matters of urgent importance, and he had not a moment to
+devote to his own affairs. When at length it was possible for him to
+consider himself at all, he felt that the accident had raised him out of
+the narrow pettiness which threatened to submerge his soul; he was at
+close quarters with malignant fate, and he had waged a desperate battle
+with the cruel blindness of chance. He could only feel an utter scorn
+for the people who bespattered him with base charges. For, after all,
+his conscience was free.
+
+When he wrote to Lucy, it never struck him that it was needful to refer
+to the events that had preceded his departure from London, and his
+letter was full of the strenuous agony of the past days. He told her how
+they had fought hand to hand with death and had snatched the prey from
+his grasp. In a second letter he told her what steps he was taking to
+repair the damage that had been caused, and what he was doing for those
+who were in immediate need. He would have given much to be able to write
+down the feelings of passionate devotion with which Lucy filled him, but
+with the peculiar shyness which was natural to him, he could not bring
+himself to it. Of the accusation with which, the world was ringing, he
+said never a word.
+
+* * *
+
+Lucy read his letters over and over again. She could not understand
+them, and they seemed strangely indifferent. At that distance from the
+scene of the disaster she could not realise its absorbing anxiety, and
+she was bitterly disappointed at Alec's absence. She wanted his presence
+so badly, and she had to bear alone, on her own shoulders, the full
+weight of her trouble. When Macinnery's second letter appeared, Lady
+Kelsey gave it to her without a word. It was awful. The whole thing was
+preposterous, but it hung together in a way that was maddening, and
+there was an air of truth about it which terrified her. And why should
+Alec insist on this impenetrable silence? She had offered herself the
+suggestion that political exigencies with regard to the states whose
+spheres of influence bordered upon the territory which Alec had
+conquered, demanded the strictest reserve; but this explanation soon
+appeared fantastic. She read all that was said in the papers and found
+that opinion was dead against Alec. Now that it was become a party
+matter, his own side defended him; but in a half-hearted way, which
+showed how poor the case was. And since all that could be urged in his
+favour, Lucy had already repeated to herself a thousand times, what was
+said against him seemed infinitely more conclusive than what was said
+for him. And then her conscience smote her. Those cruel words of
+Bobbie's came back to her, and she was overwhelmed with self-reproach
+when she considered that it was her own brother of whom was all this
+to-do. She must be utterly heartless or utterly depraved. And then with
+a despairing energy she cried out that she believed in Alec; he was
+incapable of a treacherous act.
+
+At last she could bear it no longer, and she wired to him: _For God's
+sake come quickly_.
+
+She felt that she could not endure another day of this misery. She
+waited for him, given over to the wildest fears; she was ashamed and
+humiliated. She counted the hours which must pass before he could
+arrive; surely he would not delay. All her self-possession had vanished,
+and she was like a child longing for the protecting arms that should
+enfold it
+
+* * *
+
+At last he came. Lucy was waiting in the same room in which she had sat
+on their first meeting after his return to England. She sprang up, pale
+and eager, and flung herself passionately into his arms.
+
+'Thank God, you've come,' she said. 'I thought the hours would never
+end.'
+
+He did not know what so vehemently disturbed her, but he kissed her
+tenderly, and on a sudden she felt strangely comforted. There was an
+extraordinary honesty about him which strengthened and consoled her. For
+a while she could not speak, but clung to him, sobbing.
+
+'What is it?' he asked at length. 'Why did you send for me?'
+
+'I want your love. I want your love so badly.'
+
+It was inconceivable, the exquisite tenderness with which he caressed
+her. No one would have thought that dour man capable of such gentleness.
+
+'I felt I must see you,' she sobbed. 'You don't know what tortures I've
+endured.'
+
+'Poor child.'
+
+He kissed her hair and her white, pained forehead.
+
+'Why did you go away? You knew I wanted you.'
+
+'I'm very sorry.'
+
+'I've been horribly wretched. I didn't know I could suffer so much.'
+
+'Come and sit down and tell me all about it.'
+
+He led her to the sofa and made her sit beside him. His arms were around
+her, and she nestled close to him. For a moment she remained silent,
+enjoying the feeling of great relief after the long days of agony. She
+smiled lightly through her tears.
+
+'The moment I'm with you I feel so confident and happy.'
+
+'Only when you're with me?'
+
+He asked the question caressingly, in a low passionate voice that she
+had never heard from his lips before. She did not answer, but clung more
+closely to him. Smiling, he repeated the question.
+
+'Only when you're with me, darling?'
+
+'I've told Bobbie and my aunt that we're going to be married. They made
+me suffer so dreadfully. I had to tell them. I couldn't keep it back,
+they said such horrible things about you.'
+
+He did not answer for a moment.
+
+'It's very natural.'
+
+'It's nothing to you,' she cried desperately. ' But to me.... Oh, you
+don't know what agony I had to endure.'
+
+'I'm glad you told them.'
+
+'Bobby said I must be heartless and cruel. And it's true: George is
+nothing to me now when I think of you. My heart is so filled with my
+love for you that I haven't room for anything else.'
+
+'I hope my love will make up for all that you have lost. I want you
+to be happy.'
+
+She withdrew from his arms and leaned back, against the corner of the
+sofa. It was absolutely necessary to say what was gnawing at her
+heart-strings, but she felt ashamed and could not look at him.
+
+'That wasn't the only reason I told them. I'm such a coward. I thought I
+was much braver.'
+
+'Why?'
+
+Lucy felt on a sudden sick at heart. She began to tremble a little, and
+it was only by great strength of will that she forced herself to go on.
+She was horribly frightened. Her mouth was dry, and when at last the
+words came, her voice sounded unnatural.
+
+'I wanted to burn my ships behind me. I wanted to reassure myself.'
+
+This time it was Alec who did not answer, for he understood now what was
+on her mind. His heart sank, since he saw already that he must lose her.
+But he had faced that possibility long ago in the heavy forests of
+Africa, and he had made up his mind that Lucy could do without love
+better than without self-respect.
+
+He made a movement to get up, but quickly Lucy put out her hand. And
+then suddenly a fire seized him, and a vehement determination not to
+give way till the end.
+
+'I don't understand you,' he said quietly.
+
+'Forgive me, dear,' she said.
+
+She held his hand in hers, and she spoke quickly.
+
+'You don't know how terrible it is. I stand so dreadfully alone.
+Everyone is so bitter against you, and not a soul has a good word to say
+for you. It's all so extraordinary and so inexplicable. It seems as if
+I am the only person who isn't convinced that you caused poor George's
+death. Oh, how callous and utterly heartless people must think me!'
+
+'Does it matter very much what people think?' he said gravely.
+
+'I'm so ashamed of myself. I try to put the thoughts out of my head, but
+I can't. I simply can't. I've tried to be brave. I've refused to discuss
+the possibility of there being anything in those horrible charges. I
+wanted to talk to Dick--I knew he was fond of you--but I didn't dare. It
+seemed treacherous to you, and I wouldn't let anyone see that it meant
+anything to me. The first letter wasn't so bad, but the second--oh, it
+looks so dreadfully true.'
+
+Alec gave her a rapid glance. This was the first he had heard of another
+communication to the paper. During the frenzied anxiety of those days at
+the colliery, he had had time to attend to nothing but the pressing work
+of rescue. But he made no reply.
+
+'I've read it over and over again, and I _can't_ understand. When Bobbie
+says it's conclusive, I tell him it means nothing--but--don't you see
+what I mean? The uncertainty is more than I can bear.'
+
+She stopped suddenly, and now she looked at him. There was a pitiful
+appeal in her eyes.
+
+'At the first moment I felt so absolutely sure of you.'
+
+'And now you don't?' he asked quietly.
+
+She cast down her eyes once more, and a sob caught her breath.
+
+'I trust you just as much as ever. I know it's impossible that you
+should have done a shameful deed. But there it stands in black and
+white, and you have nothing to say in answer.'
+
+'I know it's very difficult. That's why I asked you to believe in me.'
+
+'I do, Alec,' she cried vehemently. 'With all my soul. But have mercy on
+me. I'm not as strong as I thought. It's easy for you to stand alone.
+You're iron. You're a mountain of granite. But I'm a weak woman,
+pitifully weak.'
+
+He shook his head.
+
+'Oh, no, you're not like other women.'
+
+'It was easy to be brave where my father was concerned, or George, but
+now it's so different. Love has changed me. I haven't the courage any
+more to withstand the opinion of all my fellows.'
+
+Alec got up and walked once or twice across the room. He seemed to be
+thinking deeply. Lucy fancied that he must hear the beating of her
+heart. He stopped in front of her. Her heart was wrung by the great pain
+that was in his voice.
+
+'Don't you remember that only a few days ago I told you that I'd done
+nothing which I wouldn't do again? I gave you my word of honour that I
+could reproach myself for nothing.'
+
+'Oh, I know,' she cried. 'I'm so utterly ashamed of myself. But I can't
+bear the doubt.'
+
+'_Doubt._ You've said the word at last.'
+
+'I tell myself that I don't believe a word of these horrible charges. I
+repeat to myself: I'm certain, I'm certain that he's innocent.'
+
+She gathered strength in the desperation of her love, and now at the
+crucial moment she had all the courage she needed.
+
+'And yet at the bottom of my heart there's the doubt. And I _can't_
+crush it.'
+
+She waited for him to answer, but he did not speak.
+
+'I wanted to kill that bitter pain of suspicion. I thought if I stood up
+before them and cried out that my trust in you was so great, I was
+willing to marry you notwithstanding everything--I should at last have
+peace in my heart.'
+
+Alec went to the window and looked out. The westering sun slanted across
+the street. Carriages and motors were waiting at the door of the house
+opposite, and a little crowd of footmen clustered about the steps. They
+were giving a party, and through the open windows Alec could see a
+throng of women. The sky was very blue. He turned back to Lucy.
+
+'Will you show me the second letter of which you speak?'
+
+'Haven't you seen it?' she asked in astonishment.
+
+'I was so busy, I had no time to look at the papers. I suppose no one
+thought it his business to draw my attention to it.'
+
+Lucy went into the second drawing-room, divided from that in which they
+sat by an archway, and brought him the copy of the _Daily Mail_ for
+which he asked. She gave it, and he took it silently. He sat down and
+with attention read the letter through. He observed with bitter scorn
+the thoroughness with which Macinnery had set out the case against him.
+In this letter he filled up the gaps which had been left in the first,
+adding here and there details which gave a greater coherency to the
+whole; and his evidence had an air of truth, since he quoted the very
+words of porters and askari who had been on the expedition. It was
+wonderful what power had that small admixture of falsehood joined with
+what was admittedly true, to change the whole aspect of the case. Alec
+was obliged to confess that Lucy had good grounds for her suspicion.
+There was a specious look about the story, which would have made him
+credit it himself if some other man had been concerned. The facts were
+given with sufficient exactness, and the untruth lay only in the motives
+that were ascribed to him; but who could tell what another's motives
+were? Alec put the paper on the table, and leaning back, his face
+resting in his hand, thought deeply. He saw again that scene in his tent
+when the wind was howling outside and the rain falling, falling; he
+recalled George's white face, the madness that came over him when he
+fired at Alec, the humility of his submission. The earth covered the
+boy, his crime, and his weakness. It was not easy to save one's self at
+a dead man's expense. And he knew that George's strength and courage had
+meant more than her life to Lucy. How could he cause her the bitter
+pain? How could he tell her that her brother died because he was a
+coward and a rogue? How could he tell her the pitiful story of the boy's
+failure to redeem the good name that was so dear to her? And what proof
+could he offer of anything he said? Walker had been killed on the same
+night as George, poor Walker with his cheerfulness in difficulties and
+his buoyant spirits: his death too must be laid to the charge of George
+Allerton; Adamson had died of fever. Those two alone had any inkling of
+the truth; they could have told a story that would at least have thrown
+grave doubts upon Macinnery's. But Alec set his teeth; he did not want
+their testimony. Finally there was the promise. He had given his solemn
+oath, and the place and the moment made it seem more binding, that he
+would utter no word that should lead Lucy to suspect even for an instant
+that her brother had been untrue to the trust she had laid upon him.
+Alec was a man of scrupulous truthfulness, not from deliberately moral
+motives but from mere taste, and he could not have broken his promise
+for the great discomfort it would have caused him. But it was the least
+of the motives which influenced him. Even if George had exacted nothing,
+he would have kept silence. And then, at the bottom of his heart, was a
+fierce pride. He was conscious of the honesty of his motives, and he
+expected that Lucy should share his consciousness. She must believe what
+he said to her because he said it. He could not suffer the humiliation
+of defending himself, and he felt that her love could not be very great
+if she could really doubt him. And because he was very proud perhaps he
+was unjust. He did not know that he was putting upon her a trial which
+he should have asked no one to bear.
+
+He stood up and faced Lucy.
+
+'What is it precisely you want me to do?' he asked.
+
+'I want you to have mercy on me because I love you. Don't tell the world
+if you choose not to. But tell me the truth. I know you're incapable of
+lying. If I only have it from your own lips I shall believe. I want to
+be certain, certain.'
+
+'Don't you realise that I would never have asked you to marry me if my
+conscience hadn't been quite clear?' he said slowly. 'Don't you see that
+the reasons I have for holding my tongue must be overwhelming, or I
+wouldn't stand by calmly while my good name was torn from me shred by
+shred?'
+
+'But I'm going to be your wife, and I love you, and I know you love me.'
+
+'I implore you not to insist, Lucy. Let us remember only that the past
+is gone and that we love one another. It is impossible for me to tell
+you anything.'
+
+'Oh, but you must now,' she implored. 'If anything has happened, if any
+part of the story is true, you must give me a chance of judging for
+myself.'
+
+'I'm very sorry. I can't.'
+
+'But you'll kill my love for you.'
+
+She sprang to her feet and pressed both hands to her heart.
+
+'The doubt that lurked at the bottom of my soul, now fills me. How can
+you let me suffer such maddening torture?'
+
+An expression of anguish passed across his calm eyes. He made a gesture
+of despair.
+
+'I thought you trusted me.'
+
+'I'll be satisfied if you'll only tell me one thing.' She put her hands
+to her head with a rapid, aimless movement that showed the extremity of
+her agitation. 'Oh, what has love done with me?' she cried desperately.
+'I was so proud of my brother and so utterly devoted to him. But I loved
+you so much that there wasn't any room in my heart for the past. I
+forgot all my unhappiness and all my loss. And even now they seem so
+little to me beside your love that it's you I think of first. I want to
+know that I can love you freely. I'll be satisfied if you'll only tell
+me that when you sent George out that night, you didn't know he'd be
+killed.'
+
+Alec looked at her steadily. And once more he saw himself in the African
+tent amid the rain and the boisterous wind. At the time he sought to
+persuade himself that George had a chance of escape. He told him with
+his own lips that if he showed perfect self-confidence at the moment of
+danger he might save himself alive; but at the bottom of his heart he
+knew, he had known all along, that it was indeed death he was sending
+him to, for George had not the last virtue of a scoundrel, courage.
+
+'Only say that, Alec,' she repeated. 'Say that's not true, and I'll
+believe you.'
+
+There was a silence. Lucy's heart beat against her breast like a caged
+bird. She waited in horrible suspense.
+
+'But it is true,' he said, very quietly.
+
+Lucy did not answer. She stared at him with terrified eyes. Her brain
+reeled, and she feared that she was going to faint. She had to put forth
+all her strength to drive back the enveloping night that seemed to crowd
+upon her.
+
+'It is true,' he repeated.
+
+She gave a gasp of pain.
+
+'I don't understand. Oh, my dearest, don't treat me as a child. Have
+mercy on me. You must be serious now. It's a matter of life and death to
+both of us.'
+
+'I'm perfectly serious.'
+
+A frightful coldness appeared to seize her, and the tips of her fingers
+were strangely numbed.
+
+'You knew that you were sending George into a death-trap? You knew that
+he could not escape alive?'
+
+'Except by a miracle.'
+
+'And you don't believe in miracles?'
+
+Alec made no answer. She looked at him with increasing horror. Her eyes
+were staring wildly. She repeated the question.
+
+'And you don't believe in miracles?'
+
+'No.'
+
+She was seized with all manner of conflicting emotions. They seemed to
+wage a tumultuous battle in the depths of her heart. She was filled with
+horror and dismay, bitter anger, remorse for her callous indifference to
+George's death; and at the same time she felt an overwhelming love for
+Alec. And how could she love him now?
+
+'Oh, it can't be true,' she cried.
+'It's infamous. Oh, Alec, Alec, Alec... O God, what shall I do.'
+
+Alec held himself upright. He set his teeth, and his heavy jaw seemed
+squarer than ever. There was a great sternness in his voice.
+
+'I tell you that whatever I did was inevitable.'
+
+Lucy flushed at the sound of his voice, and anger and sudden hatred took
+the place of all other feelings.
+
+'Then if that's true, the rest must be true. Why don't you acknowledge
+as well that you sacrificed my brother's life in order to save your
+own?'
+
+But the mood passed quickly, and in a moment she was seized with dismay.
+
+'Oh, it's awful. I can't realise it.' She turned to him with a desperate
+appeal. 'Haven't you anything to say at all? You know how much I loved
+my brother. You know how much it meant to me that he should live to wipe
+out all memory of my father's crime. All the future was centred upon
+him. You can't have sacrificed him callously.'
+
+Alec hesitated for an instant.
+
+'I think I might tell you this,' he said. 'We were entrapped by the
+Arabs, and our only chance of escape entailed the death of one of us.'
+
+'So you chose my brother because you loved me.'
+
+Alec looked at her. There was an extraordinary sadness in his eyes, but
+she did not see it. He answered very gravely.
+
+'You see, the fault was his. He had committed a grave error. It was not
+unjust that he should suffer for the catastrophe that he had brought
+about.'
+
+'At those times one doesn't think of justice. He was so young, so frank
+and honest. Wouldn't it have been nobler to give your life for his?'
+
+'Oh, my dear,' he answered, with all the gentleness that was in him,
+'you don't know how easy it is to give one's life, how much more
+difficult it is to be just than generous. How little you know me! Do you
+think I should have hesitated if the difficulty had been one that my
+death could solve? It was necessary that I should live. I had my work to
+do. I was bound by solemn treaties to the surrounding tribes. Even if
+that had been all, it would have been cowardly for me to die.'
+
+'It is easy to find excuses for not acting like a brave man.' She flung
+the words at him with indignant scorn.
+
+'I was indispensable,' he answered. 'The whites I took with me I chose
+as instruments, not as leaders. If I had died the expedition would have
+broken in pieces. It was my influence that held together such of the
+native tribes as remained faithful to us. I had given my word that I
+would not desert them till I had exterminated the slave-raiders. Two
+days after my death my force would have melted away, and the whites
+would have been helpless. Not one of them would have escaped. And then
+the country would have been given up, defenceless, to those cursed
+Arabs. Fire and sword would have come instead of the peace I promised;
+and the whole country would have been rendered desolate. I tell you that
+it was my duty to live till I had carried out my work.'
+
+Lucy drew herself up a little. She looked at him firmly, and said very
+quietly and steadily:
+
+'You coward! You coward!'
+
+'I knew at the time that what I did might cost me your love, and though
+you won't believe this, I did it for your sake.'
+
+'I wish I had a whip in my hand that I might slash you across the face.'
+
+For a moment he did not say anything. She was quivering with indignation
+and with contempt.
+
+'You see, it has cost me your love,' he said. 'I suppose it was
+inevitable.'
+
+'I am ashamed that I ever loved you.'
+
+'Good-bye.'
+
+He turned round and walked slowly to the door. He held his head erect,
+and there was no sign of emotion on his face. But as soon as he was gone
+Lucy could keep her self-control no longer. She sank into a chair, and
+hiding her face, began to sob as though her poor tortured heart would
+break.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+
+Alec went back to Lancashire next day. Much was still required before
+the colliery could be put once more in proper order, and he was
+overwhelmed with work. Lucy was not so fortunate. She had nothing to do
+but to turn over in her mind the conversation they had had. She passed
+one sleepless night after another. She felt ill and wretched. She told
+Lady Kelsey that her engagement with MacKenzie was broken off, but gave
+no reason; and Lady Kelsey, seeing her white, tortured face, had not the
+heart to question her. The good lady knew that her niece was desperately
+unhappy, but she did not know how to help her. Lucy never sought for the
+sympathy of others and chose rather to bear her troubles alone. The
+season was drawing to a close, and Lady Kelsey suggested that they
+should advance by a week or two the date of their departure for the
+country; but Lucy would do nothing to run away from her suffering.
+
+'I don't know why you should alter your plans,' she said quietly.
+
+Lady Kelsey looked at her compassionately, but did not insist. She felt
+somehow that Lucy was of different clay from herself, and for all her
+exquisite gentleness, her equanimity and pleasant temper, she had never
+been able to get entirely at close quarters with her. She would have
+given much to see Lucy give way openly to her grief; and her arms would
+have been open to receive her, if her niece had only flung herself
+simply into them. But Lucy's spirit was broken. With the extreme reserve
+that was part of her nature, she put all her strength into the effort to
+behave in the world with decency; and dreading any attempt at
+commiseration, she forced herself to be no less cheerful than usual. The
+strain was hardly tolerable. She had set all her hopes of happiness upon
+Alec, and he had failed her. She thought more of her brother and her
+father than she had done of late, and she mourned for them both as
+though the loss she had sustained were quite recent. It seemed to her
+that the only thing now was to prevent herself from thinking of Alec,
+and with angry determination she changed her thoughts as soon as he came
+into them.
+
+Presently something else occurred to her. She felt that she owed some
+reparation to Bobbie: he had seen the truth at once, and because he had
+pointed it out to her, as surely it was his duty to do, she had answered
+him with bitter words. He had shown himself extraordinarily kind, and
+she had been harsh and cruel. Perhaps he knew that she was no longer
+engaged to marry Alec MacKenzie, and he must guess the reason; but since
+the night of the dance he had not been near them. She looked upon what
+Alec had told her as addressed to her only, and she could not repeat it
+to all and sundry. When acquaintances had referred to the affair, her
+manner had shown them quickly that she did not intend to discuss it. But
+Robert Boulger was different. It seemed necessary, in consideration of
+all that had passed, that he should be told the little she knew; and
+then she thought also, seized on a sudden with a desire for
+self-sacrifice, that it was her duty perhaps to reward him for his long
+devotion. She might at least try to make him a good wife; and she could
+explain exactly how she felt towards him. There would be no deceit. Her
+life had no value now, and if it really meant so much to him to marry
+her, it was right that she should consent. And there was another thing:
+it would put an irrevocable barrier between herself and Alec.
+
+Lady Kelsey was accustomed to ask a few people to luncheon every
+Tuesday, and Lucy suggested that they should invite Bobbie on one of
+these occasions. Lady Kelsey was much pleased, for she was fond of her
+nephew, and it had pained her that she had not seen him. She had sent a
+line to tell him that Lucy was no longer engaged, but he had not
+answered. Lucy wrote the invitation herself.
+
+     _My Dear Bobbie:_
+
+     _Aunt Alice will be very glad if you can lunch with us on Tuesday
+     at two. We are asking Dick, Julia Crowley, and Canon Spratte. If
+     you can come, and I hope you will, it would be very kind of you to
+     arrive a good deal earlier than the others; I want to talk to you
+     about something._
+
+                                      _Yours affectionately,_
+                                                       _Lucy._
+
+
+He answered at once.
+
+     _My Dear Lucy:_
+
+     _I will come with pleasure. I hope half-past one will suit you._
+
+                                      _Your affectionate cousin,_
+                                                    _Robert Boulger._
+
+
+'Why haven't you been to see us?' she said, holding his hand, when at
+the appointed time he appeared.
+
+'I thought you didn't much want to see me.'
+
+'I'm afraid I was very cruel and unkind to you last time you were here,'
+she said.
+
+'It doesn't matter at all,' he said gently.
+
+'I think I should tell you that I did as you suggested to me. I asked
+Alec MacKenzie pointblank, and he confessed that he was guilty of
+George's death.'
+
+'I'm very sorry,' said Bobbie.
+
+'Why?' she asked, looking up at him with tear-laden eyes.
+
+'Because I know that you were very much in love with him,' he answered.
+
+Lucy flushed. But she had much more to say.
+
+'I was very unjust to you on the night of that dance. You were right to
+speak to me as you did, and I was very foolish. I regret what I said,
+and I beg you to forgive me.'
+
+'There's nothing to forgive, Lucy,' he said warmly. 'What does it matter
+what you said? You know I love you.'
+
+'I don't know what I've done to deserve such love,' she said. 'You make
+me dreadfully ashamed of myself.'
+
+He took her hand, and she did not attempt to withdraw it.
+
+'Won't you change your mind, Lucy?' he said earnestly.
+
+'Oh, my dear, I don't love you. I wish I did. But I don't and I'm afraid
+I never can.'
+
+'Won't you marry me all the same?'
+
+'Do you care for me so much as that?' she cried painfully.
+
+'Perhaps you will learn to love me in time.'
+
+'Don't be so humble; you make me still more ashamed. Bobbie, I should
+like to make you happy if I thought I could. It seems very wonderful to
+me that you should want to have me. But I must be honest with you. I
+know that if I pretend I'm willing to marry you merely for your sake I'm
+deceiving myself. I want to marry you because I'm afraid. I want to
+crush my love for Alec. I want to make it impossible for me ever to
+weaken in my resolve. You see, I'm horrid and calculating, and it's very
+little I can offer you.'
+
+'I don't care why you're marrying me,' he said. 'I want you so badly.'
+
+'Oh, no, don't take me like that. Let me say first that if you really
+think me worth having, I will do my duty gladly. And if I have no love
+to give, I have a great deal of affection and a great deal of gratitude.
+I want you to be happy.'
+
+He went down on his knees and kissed her hands passionately.
+
+'I'm so thankful,' he murmured. 'I'm so thankful.'
+
+Lucy bent down and gently kissed his hair. Two tears rolled heavily down
+her cheeks.
+
+* * *
+
+Five minutes later Lady Kelsey came in. She was delighted to see that
+her nephew and her niece were apparently once more on friendly terms;
+but she had no time to find out what had happened, for Canon Spratte was
+immediately announced. Lady Kelsey had heard that he was to be offered a
+vacant bishopric, and she mourned over his disappearance from London. He
+was a spiritual mentor who exactly suited her, handsome, urbane,
+attentive notwithstanding her mature age, and well-connected. He was
+just the man to be a bishop. Then Mrs. Crowley appeared. They waited a
+little, and presently Dick was announced. He sauntered in jauntily,
+unaware that he had kept the others waiting a full quarter of an hour;
+and the party was complete.
+
+No gathering could be tedious when Canon Spratte was present, and the
+conversation proceeded merrily. Mrs. Crowley looked ravishing in a
+summer frock, and since she addressed herself exclusively to the
+handsome parson it was no wonder that he was in a good humour. She
+laughed appreciatively at his facile jests and gave him provoking
+glances of her bright eyes. He did not attempt to conceal from her that
+he thought American women the most delightful creatures in the world,
+and she made no secret of her opinion that ecclesiastical dignitaries
+were often fascinating. They paid one another outrageous compliments. It
+never struck the good man that these charms and graces were displayed
+only for the purpose of vexing a gentleman of forty, who was eating his
+luncheon irritably on the other side of her. She managed to avoid
+talking to Dick Lomas afterwards, but when she bade Lady Kelsey
+farewell, he rose also.
+
+'Shall I drive you home?' he asked.
+
+'I'm not going home, but if you like to drive me to Victoria Street, you
+may. I have an appointment there at four.'
+
+They went out, stepped into a cab, and quite coolly Dick told the driver
+to go to Hammersmith. He sat himself down by her side, with a smile of
+self-satisfaction.
+
+'What on earth are you doing?' she cried.
+
+'I want to have a talk to you.'
+
+'I'm sure that's charming of you,' she answered, 'but I shall miss my
+appointment.'
+
+'That's a matter of complete indifference to me.'
+
+'Don't bother about my feelings, will you?' she replied, satirically.
+
+'I have no intention of doing so,' he smiled.
+
+Mrs. Crowley was obliged to laugh at the neatness with which he had
+entrapped her. Or had he fallen into the trap which she had set for him?
+She really did not quite know.
+
+'If your object in thus abducting me was to talk, hadn't you better do
+so?' she asked. 'I hope you will endeavour to be not only amusing but
+instructive.'
+
+'I wanted to point out to you that it is not civil pointedly to ignore a
+man who is sitting next to you at luncheon.'
+
+'Did I do that? I'm so sorry. But I know you're greedy, and I thought
+you'd be absorbed in the lobster mayonnaise.'
+
+'I'm beginning to think I dislike you rather than otherwise,' he
+murmured reflectively.
+
+'Ah, I suppose that is why you haven't been in to see me for so long.'
+
+'May I venture to remind you that I've called upon you three times
+during the last week.'
+
+'I've been out so much lately,' she answered, with a little wave of her
+hand.
+
+'Nonsense. Once I heard you playing scales in the drawing-room, and once
+I positively saw you peeping at me through the curtains.'
+
+'Why didn't you make a face at me?' she asked.
+
+'You're not going to trouble to deny it?'
+
+'It's perfectly true.'
+
+Dick could not help giving a little laugh. He didn't quite know whether
+he wanted to kiss Julia Crowley or to shake her.
+
+'And may I ask why you've treated me in this abominable fashion?' he
+asked blandly.
+
+She looked at him sideways from beneath her long eyelashes. Dick was a
+man who appreciated the artifices of civilisation in the fair sex, and
+he was pleased with her pretty hat and with the flounces of her muslin
+frock.
+
+'Because I chose,' she smiled.
+
+He shrugged his shoulders and put on an air of resignation.
+
+'Of course if you're going to make yourself systematically disagreeable
+unless I marry you, I suppose I must bow to the inevitable.'
+
+'I don't know if you have the least idea what you're talking about,' she
+answered, raising her eyebrows. 'I'm sure I haven't.'
+
+'I was merely asking you in a rather well-turned phrase to name the day.
+The lamb shall be ready for the slaughter.'
+
+'Is that a proposal of marriage?' she asked gaily.
+
+'If not it must be its twin brother,' he returned.
+
+'I'm so glad you've told me, because if I'd met it in the street I
+should never have recognised it, and I should simply have cut it dead.'
+
+'You show as little inclination to answer a question as a cabinet
+minister in the House of Commons.'
+
+'Couldn't you infuse a little romance into it? You see, I'm American,
+and I have a certain taste for sentiment in affairs of the heart.'
+
+'I should be charmed, only you must remember that I have no experience
+in these matters.'
+
+'That is visible to the naked eye,' she retorted. 'But I would suggest
+that it is only decent to go down on your bended knees.'
+
+'That sounds a perilous feat to perform in a hansom cab, and it would
+certainly attract an amount of attention from passing bus-drivers which
+would be embarrassing.'
+
+'You could never convince me of the sincerity of your passion unless you
+did something of the kind,' she replied.
+
+'I assure you that it is quite out of fashion. Lovers now-a-days are
+much too middle-aged, and their joints are creaky. Besides it ruins the
+trousers.'
+
+'I admit your last reason is overwhelming. No nice woman should ask a
+man to make his trousers baggy at the knees.'
+
+'How could she love him if they were!' exclaimed Dick.
+
+'But at all events there can be no excuse for your not saying that you
+know you are utterly unworthy of me.'
+
+'Wild horses wouldn't induce me to make a statement which is so remote
+from the truth,' he replied coolly. 'I did it with my little hatchet.'
+
+'And of course you must threaten to commit suicide if I don't consent.
+That is only decent.'
+
+'Women are such sticklers for routine,' he sighed. 'They have no
+originality. They have a passion for commonplace, and in moments of
+emotion they fly with unerring instinct into the flamboyance of
+melodrama.'
+
+'I like to hear you use long words. It makes me feel so grown up.'
+
+'By the way, how old are you?' he asked suddenly.
+
+'Twenty-nine,' she answered promptly.
+
+'Nonsense. There is no such age.'
+
+'Pardon me,' she protested gravely. 'Upper parlour maids are always
+twenty-nine. But I deplore your tendency to digress.'
+
+'Am I digressing? I'm so sorry. What were we talking about?'
+
+Julia giggled. She did not know where the cab was going, and she
+certainly did not care. She was thoroughly enjoying herself.
+
+'You were taking advantage of my vast experience in such matters to
+learn how a man proposes to an eligible widow of great personal
+attractions.'
+
+'Your advice can't be very valuable, since you always refused the
+others.'
+
+'I didn't indeed,' she replied promptly. 'I made a point of accepting
+them all.'
+
+'That at all events is encouraging.'
+
+'Of course you may do it in your own way if you choose. But I must have
+a proposal in due form.'
+
+'My intelligence may be limited, but it seems to me that only four words
+are needed.' He counted them out deliberately on his fingers.
+'Will--you--marry--me?'
+
+'That is both clear and simple.' She pressed back the thumb which he had
+left untouched. 'I reply in one: no.'
+
+He looked at her with every sign of astonishment.
+
+'I beg your pardon?' he said.
+
+'You heard quite correctly,' she smiled. 'The reply is in the negative.'
+
+She resisted a mad, but inconvenient, temptation to dance a breakdown on
+the floor of the hansom.
+
+'You're joking,' said Dick calmly. 'You're certainly joking.'
+
+'I will be a sister to you.'
+
+Dick reflected for a moment, and he rubbed his chin.
+
+'The chance will never recur, you know,' he remarked.
+
+'I will bear the threat that is implied in that with fortitude.'
+
+He turned round and taking her hand, raised it to his lips.
+
+'I thank you from the bottom of my heart,' he said earnestly.
+
+This puzzled her.
+
+'The man's mad,' she murmured to a constable who stood on the curb as
+they passed. 'The man's nothing short of a raving lunatic.'
+
+'It is one of my most cherished convictions that a really nice woman is
+never so cruel as to marry a man she cares for. You have given me proof
+of esteem which I promise I will never forget.'
+
+Mrs. Crowley could not help laughing.
+
+'You're much too flippant to marry anybody, and you're perfectly odious
+into the bargain.'
+
+'I will be a brother to you, Mrs. Crowley.'
+
+He opened the trap and told the cabman to drive back to Victoria Street,
+but at Hyde Park Corner he suggested that Mrs. Crowley might drop him so
+that he could take a stroll in the park. When he got out and closed the
+doors behind him, Julia leaned forward.
+
+'Would you like some letters of introduction before you go?' she said.
+
+'What for?'
+
+'It is evident that unless your soul is dead to all the finer feelings,
+you will seek to assuage your sorrow by shooting grizzlies in the Rocky
+Mountains. I thought a few letters to my friends in New York might be
+useful to you.'
+
+'I'm sure that's very considerate of you, but I fancy it's scarcely the
+proper season. I was thinking of a week in Paris.'
+
+'Then pray send me a dozen pairs of black suede gloves,' she retorted
+coolly. 'Sixes.'
+
+'Is that your last word?' he asked lightly.
+
+'Yes, why?'
+
+'I thought you might mean six and a half.'
+
+He lifted his hat and was gone.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+
+A few days later, Lady Kelsey and Lucy having gone on the river, Julia
+Crowley went to Court Leys. When she came down to breakfast the day
+after her arrival, she found waiting for her six pairs of long suede
+gloves. She examined their size and their quality, smiled with
+amusement, and felt a little annoyed. She really had every intention of
+accepting Dick when he proposed to her, and she did not in the least
+know why she had refused him. The conversation had carried her away in
+her own despite. She loved a repartee and notwithstanding the
+consequences could never resist making any that occurred to her. It was
+very stupid of Dick to take her so seriously, and she was inclined to be
+cross with him. Of course he had only gone to Paris to tease, and in a
+week he would be back again. She knew that he was just as much in love
+with her as she was with him, and it was absurd of him to put on airs.
+She awaited the post each day impatiently, for she constantly expected a
+letter from him to say he was coming down to luncheon. She made up her
+mind about the _menu_ of the pleasant little meal she would set before
+him, and in imagination rehearsed the scene in which she would at length
+succumb to his passionate entreaties. It was evidently discreet not to
+surrender with unbecoming eagerness. But no letter came. A week went by.
+She began to think that Dick had no sense of humour. A second week
+passed, and then a third. Perhaps it was because she had nothing to do
+that Master Dick absorbed a quite unmerited degree of her attention. It
+was very inconvenient and very absurd. She tormented herself with all
+sorts of reasons to explain his absence, and once or twice, like the
+spoiled child she was, she cried. But Mrs. Crowley was a sensible woman
+and soon made up her mind that if she could not live without the
+man--though heaven only knew why she wanted him--she had better take
+steps to secure his presence. It was the end of August now, and she was
+bored and lonely. She sent him a very untruthful telegram.
+
+     _I have to be in town on Friday to see my lawyer. May I come to tea
+     at five?_
+
+                                      _Julia._
+
+
+His answer did not arrive for twenty-four hours, and then it was
+addressed from Homburg.
+
+     _Regret immensely, but shall be away._
+
+                                      _Richard Lomas._
+
+
+Julia stamped her tiny foot with indignation and laughed with amusement
+at her own anger. It was monstrous that while she was leading the
+dullest existence imaginable, he should be enjoying the gaieties of a
+fashionable watering-place. She telegraphed once more.
+
+     _Thanks very much. Shall expect to see you on Friday._
+
+                                      _Julia._
+
+
+She travelled up to town on the appointed day and went to her house in
+Norfolk Street to see that the journey had left no traces on her
+appearance. Mayfair seemed quite deserted, and half the windows were
+covered with newspapers to keep out the dust. It was very hot, and the
+sun beat down from a cloudless sky. The pavements were white and
+dazzling. Julia realised with pleasure that she was the only cool person
+in London, and the lassitude she saw in the passers-by added to her own
+self-satisfaction. The month at the seaside had given an added freshness
+to her perfection, and her charming gown had a breezy lightness that
+must be very grateful to a gentleman of forty lately returned from
+foreign parts. As she looked at herself in the glass, Mrs. Crowley
+reflected that she did not know anyone who had a figure half so good as
+hers.
+
+When she drove up to Dick's house, she noticed that there were fresh
+flowers in the window boxes, and when she was shown into his
+drawing-room, the first thing that struck her was the scent of red roses
+which were in masses everywhere. The blinds were down, and after the
+baking street the dark coolness of the room was very pleasant. The tea
+was on a little table, waiting to be poured out. Dick of course was
+there to receive her. As she shook hands with him, she smothered a
+little titter of wild excitement.
+
+'So you've come back,' she said.
+
+'I was just passing through town,' he answered, with an airy wave of the
+hand.
+
+'From where to where?'
+
+'From Homburg to the Italian Lakes.'
+
+'Rather out of your way, isn't it?' she smiled.
+
+'Not at all,' he replied. 'If I were going from Manchester to Liverpool,
+I should break the journey in London. That's one of my hobbies.'
+
+Julia laughed gaily, and as they both made a capital tea, they talked
+of all manner of trivial things. They were absurdly glad to see one
+another again, and each was ready to be amused at everything the other
+said. But the conversation would have been unintelligible to a listener,
+since they mostly talked together, and every now and then made a little
+scene when one insisted that the other should listen to what he was
+saying.
+
+Suddenly Mrs. Crowley threw up her hands with a gesture of dismay.
+
+'Oh, how stupid of me!' she cried. 'I quite forgot to tell you why I
+telegraphed to you the other day.'
+
+'I know,' he retorted.
+
+'Do you? Why?'
+
+'Because you're the most disgraceful flirt I ever saw in my life,' he
+answered promptly.
+
+She opened her eyes wide with a very good imitation of complete
+amazement.
+
+'My dear Mr. Lomas, have you never contemplated yourself in a
+looking-glass?'
+
+'You're not a bit repentant of the havoc you have wrought,' he cried
+dramatically.
+
+She did not answer, but looked at him with a smile so entirely
+delightful that he cried out irritably:
+
+'I wish you wouldn't look like that.'
+
+'How am I looking?' she smiled.
+
+'To my innocent and inexperienced gaze very much as if you wanted to be
+kissed.'
+
+'You brute!' she cried. 'I'll never speak to you again.'
+
+'Why do you make such rash statements? You know you couldn't hold you
+tongue for two minutes together.'
+
+'What a libel! I never can get a word in edgeways when I'm with you,'
+she returned. 'You're such a chatterbox.'
+
+'I don't know why you put on that aggrieved air. You seem to forget that
+it's I who ought to be furious.'
+
+'On the contrary, you behaved very unkindly to me a month ago, and I'm
+only here to-day because I have a Christian disposition.'
+
+'You forget that for the last four weeks I've been laboriously piecing
+together the fragments of a broken heart,' he answered.
+
+'It was entirely your fault,' she laughed. 'If you hadn't been so
+certain I was going to accept you, I should never have refused. I
+couldn't resist the temptation of saying no, just to see how you took
+it.'
+
+'I flatter myself I took it very well.'
+
+'You didn't,' she answered. 'You showed an entire lack of humour. You
+might have known that a nice woman doesn't accept a man the first time
+he asks her. It was very silly of you to go to Homburg as if you didn't
+care. How was I to know that you meant to wait a month before asking me
+again?'
+
+He looked at her for a moment calmly.
+
+'I haven't the least intention of asking you again.'
+
+But it required much more than this to put Julia Crowley out of
+countenance.
+
+'Then why on earth did you invite me to tea?'
+
+'May I respectfully remind you that you invited yourself?' he protested.
+
+'That's just like a man. He will go into irrelevant details,' she
+answered.
+
+'Now, don't be cross,' he smiled.
+
+'I shall be cross if I want to,' she exclaimed, with a little stamp of
+her foot. 'You're not being at all nice to me.'
+
+He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, and his eyes twinkled.
+
+'Do you know what I'd do if I were you?'
+
+'No, what?'
+
+'Well, _I_ can't suffer the humiliation of another refusal. Why don't
+you propose to me?'
+
+'What cheek!' she cried.
+
+Their eyes met, and she smiled.
+
+'What will you say if I do?'
+
+'That entirely depends on how you do it.'
+
+'I don't know how,' she murmured plaintively.
+
+'Yes, you do,' he insisted. 'You gave me an admirable lesson. First you
+go on your bended knees, and then you say you're quite unworthy of me.'
+
+'You are the most spiteful creature I've ever known,' she laughed.
+'You're just the sort of man who'd beat his wife.'
+
+'Every Saturday night regularly,' he agreed.
+
+She hesitated, looking at him.
+
+'Well?' he said.
+
+'I shan't,' she answered.
+
+'Then I shall continue to be a brother to you.'
+
+She got up and curtsied.
+
+'Mr. Lomas, I am a widow, twenty-nine years of age, and extremely
+eligible. My maid is a treasure, and my dressmaker is charming. I'm
+clever enough to laugh at your jokes and not so learned as to know where
+they come from.'
+
+'Really you're very long winded. I said it all in four words.'
+
+'You evidently put it too briefly, since you were refused,' she smiled.
+
+She stretched out her hands, and he took them.
+
+'I think I'll do it by post,' she said. 'It'll sound so much more
+becoming.'
+
+'You'd better get it over now.'
+
+'You know, I don't really want to marry you a bit. I'm only doing it to
+please you.'
+
+'I admire your unselfishness.'
+
+'You will say yes if I ask you?'
+
+'I refuse to commit myself.'
+
+'Obstinate beast,' she cried.
+
+She curtsied once more, as well as she could since he was firmly holding
+her hands.
+
+'Sir, I have the honour to demand your hand in marriage.'
+
+He bowed elaborately.
+
+'Madam, I have much pleasure in acceding to your request.'
+
+Then he drew her towards him and put his arms around her.
+
+'I never saw anyone make such a fuss about so insignificant a detail as
+marriage,' she murmured.
+
+'You have the softest lips I ever kissed,' he said.
+
+'I wish to goodness you'd be serious,' she laughed. 'I've got something
+very important to say to you.'
+
+'You're not going to tell me the story of your past life,' he cried.
+
+'No, I was thinking of my engagement ring. I make a point of having a
+cabochon emerald: I collect them.'
+
+'No sooner said than done,' he cried.
+
+He took a ring from his pocket and slipped it on her finger. She looked
+from it to him.
+
+'You see, I know that you made a specialty of emeralds.'
+
+'Then you meant to ask me all the time?'
+
+'I confess it to my shame: I did,' he laughed.
+
+'Oh, I wish I'd known that before.'
+
+'What would you have done?'
+
+'I'd have refused you again, you silly.'
+
+* * *
+
+Dick Lomas and Mrs. Crowley said nothing about their engagement to
+anyone, since it seemed to both that the marriage of a middle-aged
+gentleman and a widow of uncertain years could concern no one but
+themselves. The ceremony was duly performed in a deserted church on a
+warm September day, when there was not a soul in London. Mrs. Crowley
+was given away by her solicitor, and the verger signed the book. The
+happy pair went to Court Leys for a fortnight's honeymoon and at the
+beginning of October returned to London; they made up their minds that
+they would go to America later in the autumn.
+
+'I want to show you off to all my friends in New York,' said Julia,
+gaily.
+
+'Do you think they'll like me?' asked Dick.
+
+'Not at all. They'll say: That silly little fool Julia Crowley has
+married another beastly Britisher.'
+
+'That is more alliterative than polite,' he retorted.
+
+'On the other hand my friends and relations are already saying: What on
+earth has poor Dick Lomas married an American for? We always thought he
+was very well-to-do.'
+
+They went into roars of laughter, for they were in that state of
+happiness when the whole world seemed the best of jokes, and they spent
+their days in laughing at one another and at things in general. Life
+was a pleasant thing, and they could not imagine why others should not
+take it as easily as themselves.
+
+They had engaged rooms at the _Carlton_ while they were furnishing a new
+house. Each had one already, but neither would live in the other's, and
+so it had seemed necessary to look out for a third. Julia vowed that
+there was an air of bachelordom about Dick's house which made it
+impossible for a married woman to inhabit; and Dick, on his side,
+refused to move into Julia's establishment in Norfolk Street, since it
+gave him the sensation of being a fortune-hunter living on his wife's
+income. Besides, a new house gave an opportunity for extravagance which
+delighted both of them since they realised perfectly that the only
+advantage of having plenty of money was to spend it in unnecessary
+ways. They were a pair of light-hearted children, who refused firmly to
+consider the fact that they were more than twenty-five.
+
+Lady Kelsey and Lucy had gone from the River to Spa, for the elder
+woman's health, and on their return Julia went to see them in order to
+receive their congratulations and display her extreme happiness. She
+came back thoughtfully. When she sat down to luncheon with Dick in their
+sitting-room at the hotel, he saw that she was disturbed. He asked her
+what was the matter.
+
+'Lucy has broken off her engagement with Robert Boulger,' she said.
+
+'That young woman seems to make a speciality of breaking her
+engagements,' he answered drily.
+
+'I'm afraid she's still in love with Alec MacKenzie.'
+
+'Then why on earth did she accept Bobbie?'
+
+'My dear boy, she only took him in a fit of temper. When that had
+cooled down she very wisely thought better of it.'
+
+'I can never sufficiently admire the reasonableness of your sex,' said
+Dick, ironically.
+
+Julia shrugged her pretty shoulders.
+
+'Half the women I know merely married their husbands to spite somebody
+else. I assure you it's one of the commonest causes of matrimony.'
+
+'Then heaven save me from matrimony,' cried Dick.
+
+'It hasn't,' she laughed.
+
+But immediately she grew serious once more.
+
+'Mr. MacKenzie was in Brussels while they were in Spa.'
+
+'I had a letter from him this morning.'
+
+'Lady Kelsey says that according to the papers he's going to Africa
+again. I think it's that which has upset Lucy. They made a great fuss
+about him in Brussels.'
+
+'Yes, he tells me that everything is fixed up, and he proposes to start
+quite shortly. He's going to do some work in the Congo Free State. They
+want to find a new waterway, and the King of the Belgians has given him
+a free hand.'
+
+'I suppose the King of the Belgians looks upon one atrocity more or less
+with equanimity,' said Julia.
+
+They were silent for a minute or two, while each was occupied with his
+own thoughts.
+
+'You saw him after Lucy broke off the engagement,' said Julia,
+presently. 'Was he very wretched?'
+
+'He never said a word. I wanted to comfort him, but he never gave me a
+chance. He never even mentioned Lucy's name.'
+
+'Did he seem unhappy?'
+
+'No. He was just the same as ever, impassive and collected.'
+
+'Really, he's inhuman,' exclaimed Julia impatiently.
+
+'He's an anomaly in this juvenile century,' Dick agreed. 'He's an
+ancient Roman who buys his clothes in Savile Row.'
+
+'Then he's very much in the way in England, and it's much better that he
+should go back to Africa.'
+
+'I suppose it is. Here he reminds one of an eagle caged with a colony of
+canaries.'
+
+Julia looked at her husband reflectively.
+
+'I think you're the only friend who has stuck to him,' she said.
+
+'I wouldn't put it in that way. After all, I'm the only friend he ever
+had. It was not unnatural that a number of acquaintances should drop him
+when he got into hot water.'
+
+'It must have been a great help to find someone who believed in him
+notwithstanding everything.'
+
+'I'm afraid it sounds very immoral, but whatever his crimes were, I
+should never like Alec less. You see, he's been so awfully good and kind
+to me, I can look on with fortitude while he plays football with the Ten
+Commandments.'
+
+Julia's emotions were always sudden, and the tears came to her eyes as
+she answered.
+
+'I'm really beginning to think you a perfect angel, Dick.'
+
+'Don't say that,' he retorted quickly. 'It makes me feel so middle-aged.
+I'd much sooner be a young sinner than an elderly cherub.'
+
+Smiling, she stretched out her hand, and he held it for a moment.
+
+'You know, though I can't help liking you, I don't in the least approve
+of you.'
+
+'Good heavens, why not?' he cried.
+
+'Well, I was brought up to believe that a man should work, and you're
+disgracefully idle.'
+
+'Good heavens, to marry an American wife is the most arduous profession
+in the world,' he cried. 'One has to combine the energy of the Universal
+Provider with the patience of an ambassador at the Sublime Porte.'
+
+'You foolish creature,' she laughed.
+
+But her thoughts immediately reverted to Lucy. Her pallid, melancholy
+face still lingered in Julia's memory, and her heart was touched by the
+hopeless woe that dwelt in her beautiful eyes.
+
+'I suppose there's no doubt that those stories about Alec MacKenzie were
+true?' she said, thoughtfully.
+
+Dick gave her a quick glance. He wondered what was in her mind.
+
+'I'll tell you what I think,' he said. 'Anyone who knows Alec as well as
+I do must be convinced that he did nothing from motives that were mean
+and paltry. To accuse him of cowardice is absurd--he's the bravest man
+I've ever known--and it's equally absurd to accuse him of weakness. But
+what I do think is this: Alec is not the man to stick at half measures,
+and he's taken desperately to heart the maxim which says that he who
+desires an end desires the means also. I think he might be very
+ruthless, and on occasion he might be stern to the verge of brutality.
+Reading between the lines of those letters that Macinnery sent to the
+_Daily Mail_, I have wondered if Alec, finding that someone must be
+sacrificed, didn't deliberately choose George Allerton because he was
+the least useful to him and could be best spared. Even in small
+undertakings like that there must be some men who are only food for
+powder. If Alec had found George worthless to him, no consideration for
+Lucy would have prevented him from sacrificing him.'
+
+'If that were so why didn't he say it outright?'
+
+'Do you think it would have made things any better? The British public
+is sentimental; they will not understand that in warfare it is necessary
+sometimes to be inhuman. And how would it have served him with Lucy if
+he had confessed that he had used George callously as a pawn in his game
+that must be sacrificed to win some greater advantage?'
+
+'It's all very horrible,' shuddered Julia.
+
+'And so far as the public goes, events have shown that he was right to
+keep silence. The agitation against him died down for want of matter,
+and though he is vaguely discredited, nothing is proved definitely
+against him. Public opinion is very fickle, and already people are
+beginning to forget, and as they forget they will think they have
+misjudged him. When it is announced that he has given his services to
+the King of the Belgians, ten to one there will be a reaction in his
+favour.'
+
+They got up from luncheon, and coffee was served to them. They lit their
+cigarettes. For some time they were silent.
+
+'Lucy wants to see him before he goes,' said Julia suddenly.
+
+Dick looked at her and gave an impatient shrug of the shoulders.
+
+'I suppose she wants to indulge a truly feminine passion for making
+scenes. She's made Alec quite wretched enough already.'
+
+'Don't be unkind to her, Dick,' said Julia, tears welling up in her
+bright eyes. 'You don't know how desperately unhappy she is. My heart
+bled to see her this morning.'
+
+'Darling, I'll do whatever you want me to,' he said, leaning over her.
+
+Julia's sense of the ridiculous was always next door to her sense of the
+pathetic.
+
+'I don't know why you should kiss me because Lucy's utterly miserable,'
+she said, with a little laugh.
+
+And then, gravely, as she nestled in his encircling arm:
+
+'Will you try and manage it? She hesitates to write to him.'
+
+'I'm not sure if I had not better leave you to impart the pleasing
+information yourself,' he replied. 'I've asked Alec to come here this
+afternoon.'
+
+'You're a selfish beast,' she answered. 'But in that case you must leave
+me alone with him, because I shall probably weep gallons of tears, and
+you'll only snigger at me.'
+
+'Bless your little heart! Let us put handkerchiefs in every conceivable
+place.'
+
+'On occasions like this I carry a bagful about with me.'
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+
+In the afternoon Alec arrived. Julia's tender heart was touched by the
+change wrought in him during the three months of his absence from town.
+At the first glance there was little difference in him. He was still
+cool and collected, with that air of expecting people to do his bidding
+which had always impressed her; and there was still about him a
+sensation of strength, which was very comfortable to weaker vessels. But
+her sharp eyes saw that he held himself together by an effort of will,
+and it was singularly painful to the onlooker. The strain had told on
+him, and there was in his haggard eyes, in the deliberate firmness of
+his mouth, a tension which suggested that he was almost at the end of
+his tether. He was sterner than before and more silent. Julia could see
+how deeply he had suffered, and his suffering had been greater because
+of his determination to conquer it at all costs. She longed to go to him
+and beg him not to be too hard upon himself. Things would have gone more
+easily with him, if he had allowed himself a little weakness. But he was
+softer too, and she no longer felt the slight awe which to her till then
+had often made intercourse difficult. His first words were full of an
+unexpected kindness.
+
+'I'm so glad to be able to congratulate you,' he said, holding her hand
+and smiling with that rare, sweet smile of his. 'I was a little unhappy
+at leaving Dick; but now I leave him in your hands I'm perfectly
+content. He's the dearest, kindest old chap I've ever known.'
+
+'Shut up, Alec,' cried Dick promptly. 'Don't play the heavy father, or
+Julia will burst into tears. She loves having a good cry.'
+
+But Alec ignored the interruption.
+
+'He'll be an admirable husband because he's been an admirable friend.'
+
+For the first time Julia thought Alec altogether wise and charming.
+
+'I know he will,' she answered happily. 'And I'm only prevented from
+saying all I think of him by the fear that he'll become perfectly
+unmanageable.'
+
+'Spare me the chaste blushes which mantle my youthful brow, and pour out
+the tea, Julia,' said Dick.
+
+She laughed and proceeded to do as he requested.
+
+'And are you really starting for Africa so soon?' Julia asked, when they
+were settled around the tea-table.
+
+Alec threw back his head, and his face lit up.
+
+'I am. Everything is fixed up; the bother of collecting supplies and
+getting porters has been taken off my shoulders, and all I have to do is
+to get along as quickly as possible.'
+
+'I wish to goodness you'd give up these horrible explorations,' cried
+Dick. 'They make the rest of us feel so abominably unadventurous.'
+
+'But they're the very breath of my nostrils,' answered Alec. 'You don't
+know the exhilaration of the daily dangers, the joy of treading where
+only the wild beasts have trodden before.'
+
+'I freely confess that I don't want to,' said Dick.
+
+Alec sprang up and stretched his legs. As he spoke all signs of
+lassitude disappeared, and he was seized with an excitement that was
+rarely seen in him.
+
+'Already I can hardly bear my impatience when I think of the boundless
+country and the enchanting freedom. Here one grows so small, so mean;
+but in Africa everything is built to a nobler standard. There the man is
+really a man. There one knows what are will and strength and courage.
+You don't know what it is to stand on the edge of some great plain and
+breathe the pure keen air after the terrors of the forest.'
+
+'The boundless plain of Hyde Park is enough for me,' said Dick. 'And the
+aspect of Piccadilly on a fine day in June gives me quite as many
+emotions as I want.'
+
+But Julia was moved by Alec's unaccustomed rhetoric, and she looked at
+him earnestly.
+
+'But what will you gain by it now that your work is over--by all the
+danger and all the hardships?'
+
+He turned his dark, solemn eyes upon her.
+
+'Nothing. I want to gain nothing. Perhaps I shall discover some new
+species of antelope or some unknown plant. I may be fortunate enough to
+find a new waterway. That is all the reward I want. I love the sense of
+power and the mastery. What do you think I care for the tinsel rewards
+of kings and peoples!'
+
+'I always said you were melodramatic,' said Dick. 'I never heard
+anything so transpontine.'
+
+'And the end of it?' asked Julia, almost in a whisper. 'What will be the
+end?'
+
+A faint smile played for an instant upon Alec's lips. He shrugged his
+shoulders.
+
+'The end is death. But I shall die standing up. I shall go the last
+journey as I have gone every other.'
+
+He stopped, for he would not add the last two words. Julia said them for
+him.
+
+'Without fear.'
+
+'For all the world like the wicked baronet,' cried the mocking Dick.
+'Once aboard the lugger, and the gurl is mine.'
+
+Julia reflected for a little while. She did not want to resist the
+admiration with which Alec filled her. But she shuddered. He did not
+seem to fit in with the generality of men.
+
+'Don't you want people to remember you?' she asked.
+
+'Perhaps they will,' he answered slowly. 'Perhaps in a hundred years, in
+some flourishing town where I discovered nothing but wilderness, they
+will commission a second-rate sculptor to make a fancy statue of me. And
+I shall stand in front of the Stock Exchange, a convenient perch for
+birds, to look eternally upon the shabby deeds of human kind.'
+
+He gave a short, abrupt laugh, and his words were followed by silence.
+Julia gave Dick a glance which he took to be a signal that she wished to
+be alone with Alec.
+
+'Forgive me if I leave you for one minute,' he said.
+
+He got up and left the room. The silence still continued, and Alec
+seemed immersed in thought. At last Julia answered him.
+
+'And is that really all? I can't help thinking that at the bottom of
+your heart there is something that you've never told to a living soul.'
+
+He looked at her, and their eyes met. He felt suddenly her extraordinary
+sympathy and her passionate desire to help him. And as though the bonds
+of the flesh were loosened, it seemed to him that their very souls faced
+one another. The reserve which was his dearest habit fell away from him,
+and he felt an urgent desire to say that which a curious delicacy had
+prevented him from every betraying to callous ears.
+
+'I daresay I shall never see you again, and perhaps it doesn't much
+matter what I say to you. You'll think me very silly, but I'm afraid I'm
+rather--patriotic. It's only we who live away from England who really
+love it. I'm so proud of my country, and I wanted so much to do
+something for it. Often in Africa I've thought of this dear England and
+longed not to die till I had done my work.'
+
+His voice shook a little, and he paused. It seemed to Julia that she saw
+the man for the first time, and she wished passionately that Lucy could
+hear those words of his which he spoke so shyly, and yet with such a
+passionate earnestness.
+
+'Behind all the soldiers and the statesmen whose fame is imperishable
+there is a long line of men who've built up the empire piece by piece.
+Their names are forgotten, and only students know their history, but
+each one of them gave a province to his country. And I too have my place
+among them. Year after year I toiled, night and day, and at last I was
+able to hand over to the commissioner a broad tract of land, rich and
+fertile. After my death England will forget my faults and my mistakes;
+and I care nothing for the flouts and gibes with which she has repaid
+all my pain, for I have added another fair jewel to her crown. I don't
+want rewards; I only want the honour of serving this dear land of ours.'
+
+Julia went up to him and laid her hand gently on his arm.
+
+'Why is it, when you're so nice really, that you do all you can to make
+people think you utterly horrid?'
+
+'Don't laugh at me because you've found out that at bottom I'm nothing
+more than a sentimental old woman.'
+
+'I don't want to laugh at you. But if I didn't think it would embarrass
+you so dreadfully, I should certainly kiss you.'
+
+He smiled and lifting her hand to his lips, lightly kissed it.
+
+'I shall begin to think I'm a very wonderful woman if I've taught you to
+do such pretty things as that.'
+
+She made him sit down, and then she sat by his side.
+
+'I'm very glad you came to-day. I wanted to talk to you. Will you be
+very angry if I say something to you?'
+
+'I don't think so,' he smiled.
+
+'I want to speak to you about Lucy.'
+
+He drew himself suddenly together, and the expansion of his mood
+disappeared. He was once more the cold, reserved man of their habitual
+intercourse.
+
+'I'd rather you didn't,' he said briefly.
+
+But Julia was not to be so easily put off.
+
+'What would you do if she came here to-day?' she asked.
+
+He turned round and looked at her sharply, then answered with great
+deliberation.
+
+'I have always lived in polite society. I should never dream of
+outraging its conventions. If Lucy happened to come, you may be sure
+that I should be scrupulously polite.'
+
+'Is that all?' she cried.
+
+He did not answer, and into his face came a wild fierceness that
+appalled her. She saw the effort he was making at self-control. She
+wished with all her heart that he would be less brave.
+
+'I think you might not be so hard if you knew how desperately Lucy has
+suffered.'
+
+He looked at her again, and his eyes were filled with bitterness, with
+angry passion at the injustice of fate. Did she think that he had not
+suffered? Because he did not whine his misery to all and sundry, did she
+think he did not care? He sprang up and walked to the other end of the
+room. He did not want that woman, for all her kindness, to see his face.
+He was not the man to fall in and out of love with every pretty girl he
+met. All his life he had kept an ideal before his eyes. He turned to
+Julia savagely.
+
+'You don't know what it meant to me to fall in love. I felt that I had
+lived all my life in a prison, and at last Lucy came and took me by the
+hand, and led me out. And for the first time I breathed the free air of
+heaven.'
+
+He stopped abruptly, clenching his jaws. He would not tell her how
+bitterly he had suffered for it, he would not tell her of his angry
+rebelliousness because all that pain should have come to him. He wanted
+nobody to know the depths of his agony and of his despair. But he would
+not give way. He felt that, if he did not keep a tight hold on himself,
+he would break down and shake with passionate sobbing. He felt a sudden
+flash of hatred for Julia because she sat there and watched his
+weakness. But as though she saw at what a crisis of emotion he was,
+Julia turned her eyes from him and looked down at the ground. She did
+not speak. She felt the effort he was making to master himself, and she
+was infinitely disturbed. She wanted to go to him and comfort him, but
+she knew he would repel her. He wanted to fight his battle unaided.
+
+At last he conquered, but when he spoke again, his voice was singularly
+broken. It was hoarse and low.
+
+'My love was the last human weakness I had. It was right that I should
+drink that bitter cup. And I've drunk its very dregs. I should have
+known that I wasn't meant for happiness and a life of ease. I have other
+work to do in the world.'
+
+He paused for a moment, and his calmness was restored to him.
+
+'And now that I've overcome this last temptation I am ready to do it.'
+
+'But haven't you any pity for yourself? Haven't you any thought for
+Lucy?'
+
+'Must I tell you, too, that everything I did was for Lucy's sake? And
+still I love her with all my heart and soul.'
+
+There was no bitterness in his tone now; it was gentle and resigned. He
+had, indeed, won the battle. Julia's eyes were filled with tears, and
+she could not answer. He came forward and shook hands with her.
+
+'You mustn't cry,' he said, smiling. 'You're one of those persons whose
+part it is to bring sunshine into the lives of those with less fortunate
+dispositions. You must always be happy and childlike.'
+
+'I've got lots of handkerchiefs, thanks,' she sobbed, laughing the
+while.
+
+'You must forget all the nonsense I've talked to you,' he said.
+
+He smiled once more and was gone.
+
+Dick was sitting in his bedroom, reading an evening paper, and she flung
+herself sobbing into his arms.
+
+'Oh, Dick, I've had such a lovely cry, and I'm so happy and so utterly
+wretched. And I'm sure I shall have a red nose.'
+
+'Darling, I've long discovered that you only weep because you're the
+only person in the world to whom it's thoroughly becoming.'
+
+'Don't be horrid and unsympathetic. I think Alec MacKenzie's a perfect
+dear. I wanted to kiss him, only I was afraid it would frighten him to
+death.'
+
+'I'm glad you didn't. He would have thought you a forward hussy.'
+
+'I wish I could have married him, too,' cried Julia, 'I'm sure he'd make
+a nice husband.'
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+
+The days went by, spent by Alec in making necessary preparations for his
+journey, spent by Lucy in sickening anxiety. The last two months had
+been passed by her in a conflict of emotions. Love had planted itself in
+her heart like a great forest tree, and none of the storms that had
+assailed it seemed to have power to shake its stubborn roots. Season,
+common decency, shame, had lost their power. She had prayed God that a
+merciful death might free her from the dreadful uncertainty. She was
+spiritless and cowed. She despised herself for her weakness. And
+sometimes she rebelled against the fate that crushed her with such
+misfortunes; she had tried to do her duty always, acting humbly
+according to her lights, and yet everything she was concerned in
+crumbled away to powder at her touch. She, too, began to think that she
+was not meant for happiness. She knew that she ought to hate Alec, but
+she could not. She knew that his action should fill her with nameless
+horror, but against her will she could not believe that he was false and
+wicked. One thing she was determined on, and that was to keep her word
+to Robert Boulger; but he himself gave her back her freedom.
+
+He came to her one day, and after a little casual conversation broke
+suddenly into the middle of things.
+
+'Lucy, I want to ask you to release me from my engagement to you,' he
+said.
+
+Her heart gave a great leap against her breast, and she began to
+tremble. He went on.
+
+'I'm ashamed to have to say it; I find that I don't love you enough to
+marry you.'
+
+She looked at him silently, and her eyes filled with tears. The
+brutality with which he spoke was so unnatural that it betrayed the
+mercifulness of his intention.
+
+'If you think that, there is nothing more to be said,' she answered.
+
+He gave her a look of such bitterness that she felt it impossible to
+continue a pretence which deceived neither of them.
+
+'I'm unworthy of your love,' she cried. 'I've made you desperately
+wretched.'
+
+'It doesn't matter about me,' he said. 'But there's no reason for you to
+be wretched, too.'
+
+'I'm willing to do whatever you wish, Bobbie.'
+
+'I can't marry you simply because you're sorry for me. I thought I
+could, but--it's asking too much of you. We had better say no more about
+it.'
+
+'I'm very sorry,' she whispered.
+
+'You see, you're still in love with Alec MacKenzie.'
+
+He said it, vainly longing for a denial; but he knew in his heart that
+no denial would come.
+
+'I always shall be, notwithstanding everything. I can't help myself.'
+
+'No, it's fate.'
+
+She sprang to her feet with vehement passion.
+
+'Oh, Bobbie, don't you think there's some chance that everything may be
+explained?'
+
+He hesitated for a moment. It was very difficult to answer.
+
+'It's only fair to tell you that now things have calmed down, there are
+a great many people who don't believe Macinnery's story. It appears that
+the man's a thorough blackguard, whom MacKenzie loaded with benefits.'
+
+'Do _you_ still believe that Alec caused George's death?'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+Lucy leaned back in her chair, resting her face on her hand. She seemed
+to reflect deeply.
+
+'And you?' said Bobbie.
+
+She gave him a long, earnest look. The colour came to her cheeks.
+
+'No,' she said firmly.
+
+'Why not?' he asked.
+
+'I have no reason except that I love him.'
+
+'What are you going to do?'
+
+'I don't know.'
+
+Bobbie got up, kissed her gently, and went out. She did not see him
+again, and in a day or two she heard that he had gone away.
+
+* * *
+
+Lucy made up her mind that she must see Alec before he went, but a
+secret bashfulness prevented her from writing to him. She was afraid
+that he would refuse, and she could not force herself upon him if she
+knew definitely that he did not want to see her. But with all her heart
+she wanted to ask his pardon. It would not be so hard to continue with
+the dreary burden which was her life if she knew that he had a little
+pity for her. He could not fail to forgive her when he saw how broken
+she was.
+
+But the days followed one another, and the date which Julia, radiant
+with her own happiness, had given her as that of his departure, was
+approaching.
+
+Julia, too, was exercised in mind. After her conversation with Alec she
+could not ask him to see Lucy, for she knew what his answer would be. No
+arguments, would move him. He did not want to give either Lucy or
+himself the pain which he foresaw an interview would cause, and his
+wounds were too newly-healed for him to run any risks. Julia resolved to
+take the matter into her own hands. Alec was starting next day, and he
+had promised to look in towards the evening to bid them good-bye. Julia
+wrote a note to Lucy, asking her to come also.
+
+When she told Dick, he was aghast.
+
+'But it's a monstrous thing to do,' he cried. 'You can't entrap the man
+in that way.'
+
+'I know it's monstrous,' she answered. 'But that's the only advantage of
+being an American in England, that one can do monstrous things. You look
+upon us as first cousins to the red Indians, and you expect anything
+from us. In America I have to mind my p's and q's. I mayn't smoke in
+public, I shouldn't dream of lunching in a restaurant alone with a man,
+and I'm the most conventional person in the most conventional society in
+the world; but here, because the English are under the delusion that New
+York society is free and easy, and that American women have no
+restraint, I can kick over the traces, and no one will think it even
+odd.'
+
+'But, my dear, it's a mere matter of common decency.'
+
+'There are times when common decency is out of place,' she replied.
+
+'Alec will never forgive you.'
+
+'I don't care. I think he ought to see Lucy, and since he'd refuse if I
+asked him, I'm not going to give him the chance.'
+
+'What will you do if he just bows and walks off?'
+
+'I have his assurance that he'll behave like a civilised man,' she
+answered.
+
+'I wash my hands of it,' said Dick. 'I think it's perfectly
+indefensible.'
+
+'I never said it wasn't,' she agreed. 'But you see, I'm only a poor,
+weak woman, and I'm not supposed to have any sense of honour or
+propriety. You must let me take what advantage I can of the disabilities
+of the weaker sex.'
+
+Dick smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
+
+'Your blood be upon your own head,' he answered.
+
+'If I perish, I perish.'
+
+And so it came about that when Alec had been ten minutes in Julia's cosy
+sitting-room, Lucy was announced. Julia went up to her, greeting her
+effusively to cover the awkwardness of the moment. Alec grew very pale,
+but made no sign that he was disconcerted. Only Dick was troubled. He
+was obviously at a loss for words, and it was plain to see that he was
+out of temper.
+
+'I'm so glad you were able to come,' said Julia, in order to show Alec
+that she had been expecting Lucy.
+
+Lucy gave him a rapid glance, and the colour flew to her cheeks. He was
+standing up and came forward with outstretched hand.
+
+'How do you do?' he said. 'How is Lady Kelsey?'
+
+'She's much better, thanks. We've been to Spa, you know, for her
+health.'
+
+Julia's heart beat quickly. She was much excited at this meeting; and it
+seemed to her strangely romantic, a sign of the civilisation of the
+times, that these two people with raging passions afire in their hearts,
+should exchange the commonplaces of polite society, Alec, having
+recovered from his momentary confusion was extremely urbane.
+
+'Somebody told me you'd gone abroad,' he said. 'Was it you, Dick? Dick
+is an admirable person, a sort of gazetteer for the world of fashion.'
+
+Dick fussily brought forward a chair for Lucy to sit in, and offered to
+disembarrass her of the jacket she was wearing.
+
+'You must make my excuses for not leaving a card on Lady Kelsey before
+going away,' said Alec. 'I've been excessively busy.'
+
+'It doesn't matter at all,' Lucy answered.
+
+Julia glanced at him. She saw that he was determined to keep the
+conversation on the indifferent level which it might have occupied if
+Lucy had been nothing more than an acquaintance. There was a bantering
+tone in his voice which was an effective barrier to all feeling. For a
+moment she was nonplussed.
+
+'London is an excellent place for showing one of how little importance
+one is in the world. One makes a certain figure, and perhaps is tempted
+to think oneself of some consequence. Then one goes away, and on
+returning is surprised to discover that nobody has ever noticed one's
+absence.'
+
+Lucy smiled faintly. Dick, recovering his good-humour, came at once to
+the rescue.
+
+'You're overmodest, Alec. If you weren't, you might be a great man. Now,
+I make a point of telling my friends that I'm indispensable, and they
+take me at my word.'
+
+'You are a leaven of flippancy in the heavy dough of British
+righteousness,' smiled Alec.
+
+'It is true that the wise man only takes the unimportant quite
+seriously.'
+
+'For it is obvious that one needs more brains to do nothing with
+elegance than to be a cabinet minister,' said Alec.
+
+'You pay me a great compliment, Alec,' cried Dick. 'You repeat to my
+very face one of my favourite observations.'
+
+Julia looked at him steadily.
+
+'Haven't I heard you say that only the impossible is worth doing?'
+
+'Good heavens,' he cried. 'I must have been quoting the headings of a
+copy-book.'
+
+Lucy felt that she must say something. She had been watching Alec, and
+her heart was nearly breaking. She turned to Dick.
+
+'Are you going down to Southampton?' she asked.
+
+'I am, indeed,' he answered. 'I shall hide my face on Alec's shoulder
+and weep salt tears. It will be most affecting, because in moments of
+emotion I always burst into epigram.'
+
+Alec sprang to his feet. There was a bitterness in his face which was in
+odd contrast with Dick's light words.
+
+'I loathe all solemn leave-takings,' he said. 'I prefer to part from
+people with a nod or a smile, whether I'm going for ever or for a day to
+Brighton.'
+
+'I've always assured you that you're a monster of inhumanity,' said Mrs.
+Lomas, laughing difficultly.
+
+He turned to her with a grim smile.
+
+'Dick has been imploring me for twenty years to take life flippantly. I
+have learnt at last that things are only grave if you take them gravely,
+and that is desperately stupid. It's so hard to be serious without being
+absurd. That is the chief power of women, that life and death for them
+are merely occasions for a change of costume, marriage a creation in
+white, and the worship of God an opportunity for a Paris bonnet.'
+
+Julia saw that he was determined to keep the conversation on a level of
+amiable persiflage, and with her lively sense of the ridiculous she
+could hardly repress a smile at the heaviness of his hand. Through all
+that he said pierced the bitterness of his heart, and his every word was
+contradicted by the vehemence of his tortured voice. She was determined,
+too, that the interview which she had brought about, uncomfortable as it
+had been to all of them, should not be brought to nothing;
+characteristically she went straight to the point. She stood up.
+
+'I'm sure you two have things to say to one another that you would like
+to say alone.'
+
+She saw Alec's eyes grow darker as he saw himself cornered, but she was
+implacable.
+
+'I have some letters to send off by the American mail, and I want Dick
+to look over them to see that I've spelt _honour_ with a u and
+_traveller_ with a double l.'
+
+Neither Alec nor Lucy answered, and the determined little woman took her
+husband firmly away. When they were left alone, neither spoke for a
+while.
+
+'I've just realised that you didn't know I was coming to-day,' said Lucy
+at last. 'I had no idea that you were being entrapped. I would never
+have consented to that.'
+
+'I'm very glad to have an opportunity of saying good-bye to you,' he
+answered.
+
+He preserved the conversational manner of polite society, and it seemed
+to Lucy that she would never have the strength to get beyond.
+
+'I'm so glad that Dick and Julia are happily married. They're very much
+in love with one another.'
+
+'I should have thought love was the worst possible foundation for
+marriage,' he answered. 'Love creates illusions, and marriage destroys
+them. True lovers should never marry.'
+
+Again silence fell upon them, and again Lucy broke it.
+
+'You're going away to-morrow?'
+
+'I am.'
+
+She looked at him, but he would not meet her eyes. He went over to the
+window and looked out upon the busy street.
+
+'Are you very glad to go?'
+
+'You can't think what a joy it is to look upon London for the last time.
+I long for the infinite surface of the clean and comfortable sea.'
+
+Lucy gave a stifled sob. Alec started a little, but he did not move. He
+still looked down upon the stream of cabs and 'buses, lit by the misty
+autumn sun.
+
+'Is there no one you regret to leave, Alec?'
+
+It tore his heart that she should use his name. To hear her say it had
+always been like a caress, and the word on her lips brought back once
+more the whole agony of his distress; but he would not allow his emotion
+to be seen. He turned round and faced her gravely. Now, for the first
+time, he did not hesitate to look at her. And while he spoke the words
+he set himself to speak, he noticed the exquisite oval of her face, her
+charming, soft hair, and her unhappy eyes.
+
+'You see, Dick is married, and so I'm much best out of the way. When a
+man takes a wife, his bachelor friends are wise to depart from his life,
+gracefully, before he shows them that he needs their company no longer.'
+
+'And besides Dick?'
+
+'I have few friends and no relations. I can't flatter myself that anyone
+will be much distressed at my departure.'
+
+'You must have no heart at all,' she said, in a low, hoarse voice.
+
+He clenched his teeth. He was bitterly angry with Julia because she had
+exposed him to this unspeakable torture.
+
+'If I had I certainly should not bring it to the _Carlton Hotel_. That
+sentimental organ would be surely out of place in such a neighbourhood.'
+
+Lucy sprang to her feet.
+
+'Oh, why do you treat me as if we were strangers? How can you be so
+cruel?'
+
+'Flippancy is often the only refuge from an uncomfortable position,' he
+answered gravely. 'We should really be much wiser merely to discuss the
+weather.'
+
+'Are you angry because I came?'
+
+'That would be very ungracious on my part. Perhaps it wasn't quite
+necessary that we should meet again.'
+
+'You've been acting all the time I've been here. Do you think I didn't
+see it was unreal, when you talked with such cynical indifference? I
+know you well enough to tell when you're hiding your real self behind a
+mask.'
+
+'If that is so, the inference is obvious that I wish my real self to be
+hidden.'
+
+'I would rather you cursed me than treat me with such cold politeness.'
+
+'I'm afraid you're rather difficult to please,' he said.
+
+Lucy went up to him passionately, but he drew back so that she might not
+touch him. Her outstretched hands dropped powerless to her side.
+
+'Oh, you're of iron,' she cried pitifully. 'Alec, Alec, I couldn't let
+you go without seeing you once more. Even you would be satisfied if you
+knew what bitter anguish I've suffered. Even you would pity me. I don't
+want you to think too badly of me.'
+
+'Does it much matter what I think? We shall be five thousand miles
+apart.'
+
+'You must utterly despise me.'
+
+He shook his head. And now his manner lost that affected calmness which
+had been so cruelly wounding. He could not now attempt to hide the pain
+that he was suffering. His voice trembled a little with his great
+emotion.
+
+'I loved you far too much to do that. Believe me, with all my heart I
+wish you well. Now that the first bitterness is past I see that you did
+the only possible thing. I hope that you'll be very happy. Robert
+Boulger is an excellent fellow, and I'm sure he'll make you a much
+better husband than I should ever have done.'
+
+Lucy blushed to the roots of her hair. Her heart sank, and she did not
+seek to conceal her agitation.
+
+'Did they tell you I was going to marry Robert Boulger?'
+
+'Isn't it true?'
+
+'Oh, how cruel of them, how frightfully cruel! I became engaged to him,
+but he gave me my release. He knew that notwithstanding everything, I
+loved you better than my life.'
+
+Alec looked down, but he did not say anything. He did not move.
+
+'Oh, Alec, don't be utterly pitiless,' she wailed. 'Don't leave me
+without a single word of kindness.'
+
+'Nothing is changed, Lucy. You sent me away because I caused your
+brother's death.'
+
+She stood before him, her hands behind her back, and they looked into
+one another's eyes. Her words were steady and quiet. It seemed to give
+her an infinite relief to say them.
+
+'I hated you then, and yet I couldn't crush the love that was in my
+heart. And it's because I was frightened of myself that I told Bobbie I'd
+marry him. But I couldn't. I was horrified because I cared for you
+still. It seemed such odious treachery to George, and yet love burnt up
+my heart. I used to try and drive you away from my thoughts, but every
+word you had ever said came back to me. Don't you remember, you told me
+that everything you did was for my sake? Those words hammered away on my
+heart as though it were an anvil. I struggled not to believe them, I
+said to myself that you had sacrificed George, coldly, callously,
+prudently, but my love told me it wasn't true. Your whole life stood on
+one side and only this hateful story on the other. You couldn't have
+grown into a different man in one single instant. I've learnt to know
+you better during these three months of utter misery, and I'm ashamed of
+what I did.'
+
+'Ashamed?'
+
+'I came here to-day to tell you that I don't understand the reason of
+what you did; but I don't want to understand. I believe in you now with
+all my strength. I believe in you as better women than I believe in God.
+I know that whatever you did was right and just--because you did it.'
+
+Alec looked at her for a moment Then he held out his hand.
+
+'Thank God,' he said. 'I'm so grateful to you.'
+
+'Have you nothing more to say to me than that?'
+
+'You see, its come too late. Nothing much matters now, for to-morrow I
+go away for ever.'
+
+'But you'll come back.'
+
+He gave a short, scornful laugh.
+
+'They were so glad to give me that job on the Congo because no one else
+would take it. I'm going to a part of Africa from which Europeans seldom
+return.'
+
+'Oh, that's too horrible,' she cried. 'Don't go, dearest; I can't bear
+it.'
+
+'I must now. Everything is settled, and there can be no drawing back.'
+
+She let go hopelessly of his hand.
+
+'Don't you care for me any more?' she whispered.
+
+He looked at her, but he did not answer. She turned away, and sinking
+into a chair, began to cry.
+
+'Don't, Lucy,' he said, his voice breaking suddenly. 'Don't make it
+harder.'
+
+'Oh, Alec, Alec, don't you see how much I love you.'
+
+He leaned over her and gently stroked her hair.
+
+'Be brave, darling,' he whispered.
+
+She looked up passionately, seizing both his hands.
+
+'I can't live without you. I've suffered too much. If you cared for me
+at all, you'd stay.'
+
+'Though I love you with all my soul, I can't do otherwise now than go.'
+
+'Then take me with you,' she cried eagerly. 'Let me come too.'
+
+'You!'
+
+'You don't know what I can do. With you to help me I can be very brave.
+Let me come, Alec.'
+
+'It's impossible. You don't know what you ask.'
+
+'Then let me wait for you. Let me wait till you come back.'
+
+'And if I never come back?'
+
+'I will wait for you still.'
+
+He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes, as though
+he were striving to see into the depths of her soul. She felt very weak.
+She could scarcely see him through her tears, but she tried to smile.
+Then without a word he slipped his arms around her. Sobbing in the
+ecstasy of her happiness, she let her head fall on his shoulder.
+
+'You will have the courage to wait?' he said.
+
+'I know you love me, and I trust you.'
+
+'Then have no fear; I will come back. My journey was only dangerous
+because I wanted to die. I want to live now, and I shall live.'
+
+'Oh, Alec, Alec, I'm so glad you love me.'
+
+Outside in the street the bells of the motor 'buses tinkled noisily, and
+there was an incessant roar of the traffic that rumbled heavily over the
+wooden pavements. There was a clatter of horses' hoofs, and the blowing
+of horns; the electric broughams whizzed past with an odd, metallic
+whirr.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Explorer, by W. Somerset Maugham
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