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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Robert Orange, by John Oliver Hobbes
+
+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: Robert Orange
+       Being a Continuation of the History of Robert Orange
+
+Author: John Oliver Hobbes
+
+Release Date: February 4, 2009 [EBook #27997]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBERT ORANGE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Colin Bell and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ROBERT ORANGE
+
+BEING A CONTINUATION OF THE HISTORY OF ROBERT ORANGE, M.P.
+
+AND A SEQUEL TO THE SCHOOL FOR SAINTS
+
+By
+
+John Oliver Hobbes
+
+
+LONDON: T. FISHER UNWIN
+
+PATERNOSTER SQUARE. MDCCCC
+
+(All rights reserved)
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+One afternoon during the first weeks of October, 1869, while wind, dust,
+and rain were struggling each for supremacy in the streets, a small
+yellow brougham, swung in the old-fashioned style on cumbersome springs
+and attached to a pair of fine greys, was standing before the Earl of
+Garrow's town residence in St. James's Square. The hall clock within
+that mansion chimed four, the great doors were thrown open by two
+footmen, and a young lady wearing a mauve silk skirt deeply flounced, a
+black cloth jacket embroidered in gold, and a mauve hat trimmed with
+plumes--appeared upon the threshold. She paused for a moment to admire
+the shrubs arranged in boxes on each window-sill, the crimson vines that
+brightened the grey walls; to criticise the fresh brown rosette under
+the near horse's ear; to bestow a swift glance upon the harness, the
+coachman's livery, and the groom's boots. Then she stepped into the
+carriage and gave her order--
+
+"To the Carlton Club."
+
+The groom climbed on to his seat, and the horses, after a brilliant
+display of their well-disciplined mettle, suffered themselves to be
+driven, at an easy pace, toward Pall Mall.
+
+Lady Sara-Louise-Tatiana-Valérie De Treverell, only child of the ninth
+Earl of Garrow, had been, since her mother's death, the mistress of his
+house and his chief companion. Essentially a woman of emotions, she was,
+nevertheless, in appearance somewhat dreamy, romantic, even spiritual.
+The eyes were blue, bright as a cut sapphire, and shone, as it were,
+through tears. Her mouth, uneven in its line, had a scarlet eloquence
+more pleasing than sculpturesque severity. At the moment, she wore no
+gloves, and her tapering fingers shared their characteristic with her
+nose, which also tapered, with exquisite lightness of mould, into a
+point. For colour, she had a gypsy's red and brown. The string of gold
+beads which she fastened habitually round her throat showed well against
+the warm tints in her cheek; her long pearl earrings caught in certain
+lights the dark shadow of her hair--hair black, abundant, and
+elaborately dressed in the fashion of that time. Passionate yet
+calculating, imperious yet susceptible of control, generous yet given to
+suspicion, an egoist yet capable of self-abandoning enthusiasm--she
+represented a type of feminine character often recognised but rarely
+understood.
+
+On this particular afternoon in October she had some pressing matters on
+her mind. She was considering, among other things, an offer of marriage
+which she had received by post two days before from a nobleman of great
+fortune, the Duke of Marshire. But Sara was ambitious--not mercenary.
+She wanted power. Power, unhappily, was the last thing one could
+associate with the estimable personality of the suitor under
+deliberation.
+
+"I must tell papa," she said to herself, "that it would never do."
+
+Here she fell into a reverie; but as her expression changed from one of
+annoyance to something of wistfulness and sentimentality, the question
+of marriage with the Duke of Marshire had clearly been dismissed for
+that moment from her heart. At intervals a shy smile gave an almost
+childish tenderness to her face. Then, on a sudden, her eyelashes would
+droop, she would start with a sigh, and, apparently caught by some
+unwelcome remembrance, sink into a humour as melancholy as it was
+mysterious. Quiet she sat, absorbed in her own emotions, heedless alike
+of the streets through which she was passing and the many acquaintances
+who bowed as she drove by. It was her daily custom, when in town, to
+call at the Carlton Club for her father and take him for a short drive
+round the Park before his tea. To-day he was already waiting on the club
+steps as the brougham halted before the entrance. He smiled, joined Lady
+Sara at once, and seating himself by her side in his usual corner,
+maintained his usual imperturbable reserve. As a rule, during these
+excursions he would either doze, or jot down ideas in his note-book, or
+hum one of the few songs he cared to hear: "Go tell Augusta, gentle
+swain," "Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries," and "She wore a wreath of
+roses." This time, however, he did neither of these things, but watched
+the reflection of his daughter's face in the carriage window before him.
+He had white hair, a dyed moustache and a small imperial--also dyed the
+deepest black--just under the lower lip. In appearance he was, spite of
+the false touches, good-looking, sensitive, and perhaps too mild. The
+cleft in his rounded chin was the sole mark of decision in a countenance
+whose features were curved--wherever a curve was possible--to a degree
+approaching caricature. Temples, eyebrows, nostrils, and moustache, all
+described a series of semi-circles which, accentuated by a livid
+complexion and curling hair, presented an effect somewhat commonplace
+and a little tiresome. He had spent his existence among beings to whom
+nothing seemed natural which did not depart most earnestly from all that
+nature is and teaches: he had always endeavoured to maintain the ideal
+of a Christian gentleman where, as a matter of fact, Christianity was
+understood rather as a good manner than a faith, and ideals were
+prejudices of race rather than aspirations of the soul. Well-born,
+well-bred, and moderately learned, he was not, and could never be, more
+than dull or less than dignified. The second son of his father, he had
+spent the customary years of idleness at Eton and Oxford, he had
+journeyed through France, Italy, and Spain, contested unsuccessfully a
+seat in Mertford, and thought of reading for the Bar. But at
+four-and-thirty he became, through the influence of his mother's family,
+groom-in-waiting to the Queen--a post which he held till his elder
+brother's death, which occurred six months later. At this point his
+Court career ceased. A weak heart and a constitutional dislike of
+responsibility assisted him in his firm decision to lead the life of a
+country nobleman. He retired to his estate, and remained there in
+solitude, troubling no one except his agent, till a Russian lady, whom
+he had first met and loved during his early travels on the Continent,
+happened to come visiting in the neighbourhood. As the daughter of a
+Russian Prince and Ambassador, she had considered her rank superior to
+Lord Garrow's, and therefore felt justified, as she informed her
+relations after he had succeeded to the earldom, in making the first
+advance toward their common happiness. The marriage was soon arranged;
+the alliance proved successful if not always serene; one
+child--Sara-Louise-Tatiana-Valérie--was born, an event which was
+followed, nine days later, by the death of the Countess.
+
+Lord Garrow, a man of refined ideas rather than profound feelings,
+displayed in mourning his wife's loss the same gentle, dispassionate,
+and courteous persistency with which he had remained constant to his
+first impression of her charms. She had been a beautiful, high-hearted
+girl; she became a fascinating but wayward woman; she died a creature
+of such mingled ferocity and sentiment that, had she not perished when
+she did, she must have existed in misery under the storms of her own
+temperament. As Garrow watched his daughter's face, he may have been
+touched to a deeper chord than usual at the sight of her strange and
+growing resemblance to his dead Tatiana. Did she too possess--as her
+mother had possessed--the sweet but calamitous gift of loving? He
+himself had not been the object of his wife's supreme devotion. Before
+the child's birth she had given him an emerald ring which, she declared,
+was all that she valued on earth. It was no gift of his; it had belonged
+to a young attaché to her father's embassy. Affection had taught Lord
+Garrow something; he asked no questions; the jewel was placed, by his
+orders, on her dead hand; it was buried with her, and with that burial
+he included any jealousy of her early romance. He had been sincerely,
+wholly attached to her; he had been proud of her graces and
+accomplishments; he knew her virtue and honoured her pure mind; she was
+the one woman he had ever wished to marry. He did not regret, nay, it
+was impossible to regret, their marriage. But she had been ever an alien
+and a stranger. Each had too often considered the other's heart with
+surprise. True love must rest on a perfect understanding; at the first
+lifting of the eyes in wonder there is a jar which by and by must make
+the whole emotion restless. An unconquerable curiosity lay at the very
+root of their lives. She thought him English and self-sufficient; he
+thought her foreign and a little superstitious. This ineffable criticism
+was constant, fretful, and ever nearing the climax of uttered reproach.
+Sara had inherited all the amazement, but she owned, as well, its
+comprehension. She adored passionately the mother she had never seen;
+she loved her father, whom she knew by heart. After exchanging an
+affectionate glance with his lordship, she began to draw on her gloves.
+Whilst buttoning one she said--
+
+"Have you seen him?"
+
+"No," he replied; "but, in any case, I think he would have avoided me
+to-day."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"From motives of delicacy. Henry Marshire is a man of the nicest
+feeling. He is never guilty of the least mistake."
+
+Sara smiled, and so disguised a blush.
+
+"I did not mean Marshire," she said. "I was thinking then of Robert
+Orange."
+
+"Robert Orange," exclaimed Lord Garrow in astonishment.
+
+"Yes, dear papa. Is he not sometimes at the Carlton with Lord Wight? He
+seems to me a coming man; and so good-looking. We must really ask him to
+dinner."
+
+Some minutes elapsed before the Earl could utter any comment on a
+suggestion so surprising, and at that particular moment so
+inconsequent. Was his daughter not weighing--with prayer, he hoped, and
+certainly with all her senses--the prospect of an alliance with the Duke
+of Marshire? How, then, could she pause in a meditation of such vital
+interest to make capricious remarks about a mere acquaintance?
+
+"Does Marshire know him?" he asked at last.
+
+"I hope so. He is a remarkable person. But the party is blind."
+
+"My dear, the English are an aristocratic people. They do not forgive
+mysterious blood and ungentle origins. While we have our Howards, our
+Talbots, and our Poulets--to say nothing of the De Courcys and
+Cliftons--it would surely seem excessively absurd to endure the
+intrusion of French _émigrés_ into our midst."
+
+"How I hate the great world!" exclaimed Sara, with vehemence; "how I
+dislike the class which ambition, wealth, and pride separate from the
+rest of humanity! My only happiness now is found in solitude."
+
+"Your mother, dear Sara, had--or fancied so--this same desire to shun
+companionship and be alone. Her delicate health after our marriage made
+her fear society."
+
+"There are days when it seems an arena of wild beasts!"
+
+"Nevertheless, my darling, at your age you must learn to live among your
+fellow creatures."
+
+"How can I live where I should be afraid to die?"
+
+"Ought you to give way to these moods? Is it not mistaking the
+imagination for the soul? Young people do this, and you are very
+young--but two-and-twenty."
+
+"I am double-hearted," said Sara; "and when one is double-hearted the
+tongue must utter contradictions. I like my advantages while I despise
+them. I wish to be thought exclusive, yet I condemn the pettiness of my
+ambition. And so on."
+
+"I fear," said Lord Garrow gravely, "that your mind is disturbed by a
+question which you must soon--very soon, my dearest child--answer."
+
+"Papa, I cannot."
+
+"Surely you will gratify me so far as to take time before you object to
+what might possibly be most desirable."
+
+"It may be desirable enough, but is it right?"
+
+"Right," repeated her father, with exasperation. "How could it be
+otherwise than right to marry a man of Marshire's position, means,
+stamp, and general fitness? You would be in possession of a station
+where your interest would be as independent as your spirit. Nothing
+could have been more brilliant, or flattering, or more cordial than his
+offer. I argue against my natural selfishness for your welfare. I don't
+wish to part with you, but I must consider your future."
+
+He spoke with energy, and Sara knew, from the length and substance of
+the speech, that the subject had been for some time very near his heart.
+She resolved, on the instant, not to fail him; but as she foresaw his
+crowning satisfaction, she permitted herself the luxury of prolonging
+his suspense.
+
+"I do not love him," said she.
+
+"In marriage one does not require an unconquerable love but an
+invincible sympathy."
+
+"An invincible sympathy!" she exclaimed. "I have had that for certain
+friends--for one or two, at any rate. For Robert Orange, as an example."
+
+"That man again? Why do you dwell upon him?"
+
+"He is interesting, he has force, and, as for origin, do people ever
+repeat pleasant facts about a neighbour's pedigree? I believe that his
+family is every bit as good as ours. His second name is de Hausée. No
+one can pretend that we are even so good as a genuine de Hausée. We may
+make ourselves ridiculous!"
+
+"Let me entreat you to guard against these inequalities in your
+character. To-day I could even accuse you of levity. Dearest Sara,
+Marshire is hardly the man to be kept waiting for his reply."
+
+"I am not well," said Sara, almost in tears. "There are hours when I
+would not give my especial blessings for any other earthly happiness,
+and then, a moment after, the things which pleased me most become
+vexations, all but intolerable!"
+
+"How little importance, then, should we attach to our caprices, when we
+know, by experience, how short is the pleasure and displeasure they can
+give," was the careful reply.
+
+"Caprices!" said Sara, "yes, you are right. My mind gets weary,
+disgusted, and dismayed. But the soul is never bored--never tired. Poor
+prisoner! It has so few opportunities."
+
+She sighed deeply, and her father saw, with distress, the approach of a
+sentimental mood which he deplored as un-English, and feared as
+unmanageable.
+
+"What is this languor, this inability to rouse myself, to feel the least
+interest in things or people?" she continued. "I am not ill, and yet I
+have scarcely the strength to regret my lassitude."
+
+"What does it mean?"
+
+He put his hand upon her jacket sleeve.
+
+"Is this warm enough?" he said. "The autumn is treacherous. You are
+careful, I hope."
+
+She glanced out of the window and up at the clouds which, grey, heavy,
+and impenetrable, moved, darkening all things as they went across the
+sky.
+
+"I wish it would rain! I like to be out when it rains!"
+
+"A strange fancy," said her father, "but tastes, even odd ones, give a
+charm to life, whereas passions--" he put some stress upon the word and
+repeated it, "passions destroy it."
+
+"Marshire, at any rate, does not seem to possess either!"
+
+"Well, a man must begin at some point, and, at some point, he must
+change. He admires and respects you, my darling, so we may hardly
+quarrel with his judgment."
+
+Sara shrugged her shoulders and turned her glance away from the few
+carriages filled with invalids or elderly women which were still
+lingering in the Row.
+
+"Some people," said she, "are driven by their passions, others, the
+smaller number, by their virtues. Marshire has asked me to marry him
+because it is his duty to choose a wife from his own circle. I have no
+illusions in the matter. Nor, I fancy, has he. We have talked, of
+course, of love and Platonism till both love and Platonism became a
+weariness!"
+
+"Very far indeed am I from thinking you just. I have had an extremely
+kind note from the Duchess."
+
+"An old tyrant! She wants a daughter-in-law who will play piquet with
+her in the evenings, and feed her peacocks in the morning. She is tired
+of poor Miss Wilmington. An old tyrant!"
+
+"She hopes to hear soon when the marriage is to take place. I wish I
+could tell her the day. I do so long to have it fixed."
+
+"Dear papa," she said, with a charming smile, "you are anxious, I see,
+to be rid of me. I will write to him to-night."
+
+"And to what effect?"
+
+"The wisest."
+
+"That means the happiest, too?" he asked with anxiety.
+
+"For you and him, I hope. As for me--am I a woman who could, by any
+chance, be both happy and wise at the same moment?"
+
+Her existence was very solitary. The flippancy of the lives around her,
+the inanity of her relatives' pursuits, their heedlessness of those
+inner qualities which make the real--indeed, the only considerable
+difference between man and man, could but fret, and mortify, and abash a
+heart which, in the absence of any religious faith, had, at any rate,
+the need of it. Her father, who entertained clear views of "the right
+thing" and "the wrong thing" in social ethics, was still too rigid a
+formalist in the exposition of his theories to reach an intelligence
+with whom the desire of virtues would have to come as a
+passion--inspiring and inspired or else be utterly repudiated.
+Utilitarianism, and the greatest happiness of the greatest number,
+comfortable domestic axioms, little schemes for the elevation of the
+masses by the classes, had, on their logical basis, no attraction for
+this sceptical, wayward girl. To be merely useful was, in her eyes, to
+make oneself meddlesome and absurd. The object of existence was to be
+heroic or nothing. She could imagine herself a Poor Clare: she could not
+imagine herself as a great young lady dividing her hours judiciously
+between district visiting and the ball-room, between the conquest of
+eligible bachelors and the salvation of vulgar souls. Marshire, she
+knew, had sisters and cousins who did these things and were considered
+patterns. No wonder then that she turned pale and became fretful at the
+prospect of her views clashing inevitably with his.
+
+"I cannot be wise and happy at the same moment," she repeated.
+
+At that instant the carriage, which was then rolling toward Hyde Park
+Corner, came to an abrupt standstill, and, on looking out, Lord Garrow
+observed that the coachman had halted in obedience to a signal from a
+gentleman who was galloping, at a hard pace, after their brougham.
+
+"It must be Reckage," said the Earl; "I never knew a man so fond of
+riding who rode so ill."
+
+"What, I wonder, does he want now?" said Sara, flushing a little. "I
+didn't know that he was in town."
+
+By that time the pursuer, a handsome man with an auburn beard and very
+fine blue eyes, had reached them.
+
+"This," he shouted, "is a rushing beast of a horse;" but, before he
+could explain his errand, the hunter, who was nearly quite thoroughbred
+and a magnificent animal, dashed on, evidently determined to gain,
+without delay, some favourite destination.
+
+"Extraordinary!" said Lord Garrow. "Extraordinary!"
+
+"But so like him," observed his daughter.
+
+"And he has made us late for tea. What a stupid fellow!"
+
+It was exactly five minutes past five when they reached St. James's
+Square. The sun, a globe, set in thin lines of yellow light, shone out
+above the trees, which were dull but not yet leafless. Grey and
+sulphurous and gold-edged clouds floated in masses on the blue sky. It
+had been a day of changes--yet it seemed to Sara, whose own moods had
+been as various, the ordinary passing away of time.
+
+"Upon my word," said his lordship, "it is too bad! They may say what
+they please about Reckage, but I call him a spooney. That horse was a
+noble horse--a most superior horse. He couldn't manage him. I wish he
+would sell him."
+
+"He would never do anything so much to his own advantage," was the dry
+response. "Poor Reckage is a brilliant fool--he's selfish, and therefore
+he miscalculates."
+
+Sara was now talking mechanically--as she often did when she was with
+those whom she loved or liked, but from whom she was separated in every
+thought, interest, and emotion. The lassitude of which she had
+complained at the beginning of their drive returned upon her. Sighing
+heavily, she entered the house and mounted the long staircase to the
+drawing-room, where the tea-table was already spread, the flame
+quivering under the kettle, the deep pink china laid out on a silver
+tray. But the homeliness of the scene and its familiarity had no power
+to soothe that aching, distracted heart. Had she been a man, she
+thought, she might have sought her refuge in ceaseless work, in great
+ambitions, in achievements. This eternal tea-pouring and word-mincing,
+this business of forced laughter and garlanded conversation was more
+than she could endure. A low cry of impatience, too long and also too
+loosely imprisoned, escaped from her lips.
+
+"What is the matter?" asked Lord Garrow, who was following close upon
+her heels.
+
+"Life," she said, "life! That is all that ever does matter."
+
+"Ain't you happy?"
+
+"No, but I have it in me to be happy--an appalling capability. Let us
+say no more about it. I must join myself to eternity, and so find rest."
+
+"Well," said her father, who now felt that he had a right to complain,
+"my poor uncle used to say, if women deserved happiness they would bear
+it better. Few of them bear it well--and this is a fact I have often
+brought before me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+When Sara had prepared Lord Garrow's tea and cut the leaves of the
+_Revue des Deux Mondes_, which he invariably read until he dressed for
+dinner, she stole away to the further room, where she could play the
+piano, write letters, muse over novels, or indulge in reverie without
+fear of interruption. But as she entered it that afternoon its air of
+peace seemed the bleakness of desolation. A terrible and afflicting
+grief swept, like an icy breeze, through her heart, and, whether from
+actual physical pain or the excitement of the last few hours, tears
+started to her eyes, her cheeks flushed, and she fell to passionate
+weeping. The smiling Nymphs painted on the ceiling above her head and
+the rose leaves they were for ever scattering to the dancing Hours (a
+charming group, and considered very cheerful), could not relieve her
+woe. She cried long and bitterly, and was on the verge of hysterics when
+the door opened and her most intimate woman friend, the Viscountess Fitz
+Rewes, was announced. This bewitching creature--who was a widow, with
+two long flaxen curls, a sweet figure, and the smile of an
+angel--embraced her dear, dear Sara with genuine affection, and
+pretended not to see her swollen eyelids. Sara possessed for Pensée Fitz
+Rewes the fascination of a desperate nature for a meek one. The
+audacity, brilliancy, and recklessness of the younger woman at once
+stimulated and established the other's gentle piety.
+
+They talked for fifteen minutes about the autumn visits they had paid,
+the visits they would have to pay, and the visits which nothing in the
+world would induce them to pay.
+
+"I have been at home, at Catesby, most of the time," said Pensée; "a
+very quiet, happyish time, on the whole. I had a few people down, but I
+saw a great deal of a particularly nice person. She is a foreigner--an
+archduchess really. Her father made a morganatic marriage. I am so glad
+they don't have morganatic marriages in England. I don't like to be
+uncharitable, but they seem, in a way, so improper. Madame de Parflete
+is all one could wish. Her husband was a dreadful man."
+
+"What did he do?" said Sara, who was a little absent.
+
+"Oh, all kinds of things. He committed suicide in the end. And now--she
+is going to marry a friend of mine."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+"I never told you about him before," said Pensée, "but I am so miserable
+to-day that you may as well know. He was a sort of brother, yet much
+more. One didn't meet him often in our set, because he didn't and
+doesn't care about it. Life, however, threw us together."
+
+She covered her wan face with her hands.
+
+"How am I to give him up?" she asked. "How shall I bear it? I get so
+unhappy. I asked my little boy the other day what he did when I went
+away from home. He said--'I gather chestnuts and feel lonely.' And I
+asked my little girl what she did, and she said--'I cry till you come
+back again.' There's the difference between men and women. I am like my
+poor Lilian. You, Sara, if you could be wretched, would be more like the
+boy."
+
+"Do you think so?" said Sara.
+
+"That wonderful passage in the New Testament--I often remember it! After
+all the agony and separation were over, Simon Peter said to the
+disciples, _I go a fishing_. He went back to the work he was doing when
+our Lord first called him. What courage!"
+
+"Go on," said Sara, "go on!"
+
+"Of course, my heart has been taking an undue complacency in the
+creature, and this seldom fails to injure. I have a wish to be free from
+distress, and enjoy life. As if we were born to be happy! No, this world
+is a school to discipline souls and fit them for the other. I must
+forget my friend."
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"It will be very hard. I took such an interest in his career. If I
+didn't mention him to you, or to other people, I mentioned him often to
+God. And now--it is somewhat awkward."
+
+"You little goose," said Sara, "you have a heart of crystal. Nothing
+could be awkward for you."
+
+"My heart," said Pensée, with a touch of resentment, "is just as
+dangerous and wicked as any other heart! You misunderstand me wilfully.
+I like prayer at all times, because it is a help and because it lifts
+one out of the world. Oh, when shall every thought be brought into
+captivity?"
+
+"Listen!" said Sara, "listen! If there is an attractiveness in human
+beings so lovely that it could call your Almighty God Himself from
+heaven to dwell among them and to die most cruelly for their sakes, is
+it to be expected that they will not--and who will dare say that they
+should not?--as mortals themselves, discover qualities in each other
+which draw out the deepest affection? I have no patience with your
+religion--none."
+
+"You are most unkind, and I won't tell you any more," replied Pensée,
+who looked, however, not ungrateful for Sara's view of the situation.
+
+"Let me tell you something about me," said her friend fiercely. "I never
+say my prayers, because I cannot say them, but I love somebody, too.
+Whenever I hear his name I could faint. When I see him I could sink into
+the ground. At the sight of his handwriting I grow cold from head to
+foot, I tremble, my heart aches so that it seems breaking in two. I long
+to be with him, yet when I am with him I have nothing to say. I have to
+escape and be miserable all alone. He is my thought all day: the last
+before I sleep, the first when I awake. I could cry and cry and cry. I
+try to read, and I remember not a word. I like playing best, for then I
+can almost imagine that he is listening. But when I stop playing and
+look round, I find myself in an empty room. It is awful. I call his
+name; no one answers. I whisper it; still no answer. I throw myself on
+the ground, and I say, 'Think of me! think of me! you shall, you must,
+you do think of me!' It is great torture and a great despair. Perhaps it
+is a madness too. But it is my way of loving. I want to live while I
+live. If I knew for certain that he loved me--me only--the joy, I think,
+would kill me. Love! Do you know, poor little angel, what it means?
+Sometimes it is a curse."
+
+Pensée, before this torrent, was shaking like some small flower in a
+violent gale.
+
+"You say things, Sara, that no one says--things that one ought not to
+say. You must be quieter. You won't be happy when you are married if you
+begin with so much feeling!"
+
+"I am not going to marry that one," said Sara bitterly. "I am going to
+marry Marshire."
+
+Lady Fitz Rewes had too delicate a face to contain any expression of
+the alarm and horror she felt at this statement. She frowned, bit her
+lips, and sank back in her chair. What stroke of fate, she wondered, had
+overtaken the poor girl? Was she sane? Was she herself? Pensée found
+some relief in the thought that Sara was not herself--a state into which
+most people are presumed to fall whenever, from stress or emotion, they
+become either strictly candid or perfectly natural.
+
+"It is a fancy. Fancies are in my blood," said Sara; "you need not be
+anxious."
+
+"But--but what feeling have you for Marshire?" murmured Pensée.
+
+"I have a faint inclination not to dislike him utterly. And I will be a
+good wife to him. If I say so, I shall keep my word. You may be sure of
+that."
+
+"I could never doubt your honour, Sara. Is the other man quite, quite
+out of the question?"
+
+"Quite."
+
+"But perhaps he does love you."
+
+"Oh no, he doesn't. He may think me picturesque and rather entertaining.
+It never went deeper than that. I saw at once that his mind was fixed on
+some other woman."
+
+"I suppose one can always tell when a man's affections are really
+engaged," said Pensée, with a sigh.
+
+"Yes, beyond any doubt. You feel that they are comparing you at every
+point, in a silent, cold-blooded way, to the bright particular star. I
+envy you, Pensée; you, at least, were desperately loved by Lionel. But
+I--never, never was loved--except once."
+
+"Who was he?"
+
+"He was a Russian, very good-looking, and a genius. But oh, I wasn't old
+enough to understand him. When he died, I cried for half a day and seven
+nights. And after that, not a tear. You see, I didn't understand myself
+either."
+
+"Do I know this other one ... the one, now?"
+
+"I won't tell you his name. Perhaps, another time, when we are all very
+old ... and he is dead ... or I am dying...."
+
+"Oh, don't say that!" exclaimed Pensée, "don't say that! You are making
+a lot of misery for yourself."
+
+"Not at all. I am making the most of my one saving grace. There is
+nothing very nice about me--except that. And he is a man. The only real
+one among all our friends--the only one for whom I have the least
+respect. If any woman had his love--how sure, how happy she could be! I
+could work, and starve, and lay down my life for a man like that. If he
+had loved me, I think I could have been almost a good woman, a downright
+good one, a Saint Elizabeth of Hungary. But you see that wasn't to be.
+And so I am just this----" She looked in the glass and pointed a white
+finger, loaded with rings of black pearls, at her reflection. "I am just
+this--a vain, idle fool like all the rest--except you, poor darling."
+
+"Why don't you keep up your music?--your wonderful playing? Every one
+says it is so wonderful. That's a great outlet for emotion. And your
+languages--why not work an hour a day each at Italian, Spanish, German,
+and French? That would kill four hours of the day straight off!"
+
+"Bah!" said Sara, "I cannot play--unless there is some one to play for.
+As for languages--I cannot talk alone. And as for reading--I cannot find
+all my world between the covers of a book."
+
+"But live for others, dear Sara."
+
+"I want to live for myself. I have one inseparable companion--that is
+myself. I want to suffer my own sufferings, and enjoy my own enjoyments.
+This living for others is absurd. I hate second-hand emotions; they are
+stale and dull. But, Pensée, you haven't told me the name of your
+friend."
+
+"I thought I had," said Pensée, simply; "you will see it in the marriage
+notice the day after to-morrow. It is Robert Orange."
+
+Sara stared for a moment. Then the string of gold beads which she wore
+round her throat suddenly broke, and the shining ornaments fell all
+about her to the floor.
+
+"Dear me!" said Sara, kneeling down with a ghastly laugh. Pensée knelt
+too, and they gathered the scattered necklace between them. "Dear me! I
+was never more surprised--never; and yet I cannot think why I am
+surprised. He is very handsome. Any woman would like him."
+
+"I wonder," said Pensée, full of thoughts.
+
+Sara proceeded to count her beads, lest one should be missing. But they
+were all there, and she tied them up in her handkerchief.
+
+"Pensée," she said, presently. "I will tell his name after all, because
+you have been so frank with me. The one I ... love is Beauclerk
+Reckage." As she uttered this lie, she cast down her eyes and blushed to
+the very heart.
+
+"Beauclerk!" exclaimed Pensée, in amazement. "Then there _is_ some hope
+after all! There is, there must be! Beauclerk! He is engaged to Agnes
+Carillon, of course. But all the same...."
+
+The conversation flagged. Lord Garrow, who had heard a distant murmuring
+but not their words, now, as their animation failed, came in.
+
+"My little girl," said he, "has been moping. I am very glad that you
+called ... very glad indeed. And Sara, my darling...."
+
+"Yes, papa."
+
+"Have you asked Pensée the name of that extremely pretty song she sang
+for us when we all dined together at Lord Wight's? You remember the
+evening?"
+
+But Sara, with a wail, fled away. Pensée caught a glimpse of her white,
+agonised countenance as she rushed past them, moaning, to her own room.
+
+"This is dreadful," said Lord Garrow, horribly annoyed--"dreadful!"
+
+"It is indeed," replied Lady Fitz Rewes gravely. "I suppose...."
+
+She wanted to say that she hoped the Marshire-de Treverell alliance was
+still undecided. But something in his lordship's air--a hardness she had
+never thought to see in his regard--forbade any reference to the
+subject. He conducted her to her carriage, wished her "Goodbye" in his
+Court manner, and led her to understand, by an unmistakable glance, that
+a certain marriage which had been arranged would, inasmuch as it was
+entirely agreeable to the will of Providence, take place.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+Lord Reckage, in the meantime, had not been able to draw rein until he
+reached Grafton Street, where the hunter, of its own will, stopped short
+at a door, half glass and half mahogany, before which a groom stood
+watching, evidently with some suspense, for their approach. At the first
+sight of the animal and its rider, he hastened forward, and, seizing the
+bridle, assisted his master to dismount. Once on the ground, the young
+man satisfied his spleen by hitting the horse several vicious cuts with
+his whip. Then he informed the servant that it was his intention to walk
+home, and, with an ominous scowl, watched the "rushing beast" led from
+his sight. No one, except himself, was permitted to occupy that saddle.
+
+The house which he now entered had been the town mansion for three
+generations of the Hampshires, but, despised by its then owner, whose
+young duchess wanted an Italian villa on Piccadilly, or a French château
+in Park Lane, the lease had been sold to a syndicate of rising
+politicians who formed a small organisation known, in those days, as the
+Mirafloreans.
+
+"The little order," we read in the Hon. Hercy Berenville's Memoirs, a
+malicious work printed for private circulation only--"the little order
+first came into notice under the name of the 'Bond of Association,' a
+High Church society founded by my brother, Lord Reckage. He formed his
+executive committee, however, on timorous and unexpected lines. He had
+tried to please the spiteful rather than the loyal. The loyal, he urged,
+were always forbearing, but the spiteful needed every attention. He
+disappointed alike the warmest and the most selfish among his
+supporters. True to his policy, he made desperate attempts to win over
+some vindictive men from among the Radicals, and, finally, in a fit of
+nervousness, declared, after five months of fruitful folly, his
+determination to reorganise the whole league on a strictly non-sectarian
+basis. He described himself as a moral philosopher. Once more he became
+a figure of interest, again he raised the standard, again he attracted a
+small company of enthusiasts, again it was expected that God's enemies
+would be scattered. He invited his former secretary, a Roman Catholic,
+to join the new society, but he made it clear that Orange, a man of real
+distinction, was in no sense a prominent member. The precise dogmata of
+Mirafloreanism--a nickname given, I believe, in ironic sympathy by Mr.
+Disraeli--were undefined, but the term gradually became associated with
+those ideals of conduct, government, and Art which poets imagine, heroes
+realise, and the ignorant destroy. Men of all, sundry, and opposing
+beliefs presumed to its credentials. Some, because the club appeared to
+flourish, many because it was not yet overcrowded, and a few because
+they were in perfect agreement with the varying opinions of its ultimate
+presiding genius, Disraeli himself. They worked quietly, not in the
+House of Commons, but outside it, delivering lectures, writing books,
+starting newspapers, holding meetings, and enlisting the sympathies of
+rich, idle, ambitious, or titled women. There seemed no end or limit to
+the variety of their interests, their methods of labour, or their
+conceit. The club--judged by the leonine measure of success--as a club
+did little for learning or literary men. It became a mere meeting-house
+for dining and drinking, but it promoted cordiality among the leading
+members of the young Tory party, and brought persons together who could
+not, in the ordinary way of life, have met each other at all. Although
+the more gaudy and best known among them came from the first second-rate
+families in England, the rank and file were formed mainly by young men
+of good estate and breeding--the sons of clergy, country squires, or
+merchants, all sprung from that class which is called Middle, because it
+represents civilised society neither in its rough beginnings nor in its
+tawdry decay."
+
+Berenville's remarks, it will be plainly seen, anticipate our history a
+little, for, at the time of which we write, the Bond of Association was
+still maintaining a sickly existence on its original programme. Orange
+had not yet been invited to join it, nor had Lord Reckage declared
+himself a moral philosopher.
+
+On this particular afternoon his lordship entered, from the street, a
+narrow vestibule, the red walls of which were lit up by wax candles set
+at either end in ponderous bronze chandeliers. From this he passed into
+a square inner hall, paved with marble, and furnished by carved seats
+which had once belonged to the choir of an ancient chapel in
+Northumberland. Here he paused, for his attention was immediately
+arrested by a small group of four or five individuals who were talking
+with great earnestness at the foot of the oak staircase. Not that this
+was, in itself, an unusual event, for ever since a memorable day when
+the Earl of Bampton and the young Archdeacon of Soham, feeling warm, had
+ordered their tea to be served in that part of the building, it had been
+the fashion for distinguished members to assemble there, dispersing
+themselves in careless profusion among the statues of departed
+ecclesiastics or reclining pleasantly on the blue velvet divan which
+occupied the centre of the floor.
+
+Foremost in the little company on this occasion stood Sir Edward
+Ullweather and Nigel Bradwyn, both private secretaries, and each
+secretly convinced that his peculiar powers would have found brilliant,
+volcanic opportunities of demonstration in the other's more promising
+berth. Ullweather, whose life had been devoted to the study of
+agricultural problems, was subordinate to the Secretary of State for
+War. Bradwyn, on the other hand, who had planted his soul in the East,
+was now learning what he could, at the nation's expense, of the nation's
+domestic policy. Demoralised by disappointment, and made cynical by
+toiling over interests for which they had, at best, but a forced regard,
+little remained in their breasts but a sore determination to make the
+best of an abiding discontent. In joining Lord Reckage's Committee, they
+found themselves again, as they believed, in a false position. The
+second-rate mind, whether represented in a person or by a council,
+shrinks from the adoption of simple measures, and invariably seeks to
+make itself conspicuous by so placing others as to make them appear
+unnecessary. The special genius of Lord Reckage was shown, perhaps, in
+his abilities in this direction, and, while he missed no opportunity of
+engaging men of proved capabilities for his service, his jealousy drove
+him so to employ them that they were never permitted to do their best
+either for him or for themselves. This policy carried in itself the
+sting for its own destruction.
+
+Not far from Ullweather and Bradwyn, Randall Hatchett, the youngest
+member of the Executive, lounged against a pillar. Proud of a
+distinction which he dared not comprehend (for a commercial shrewdness
+made him suspect that he owed his position less to merit than to the
+subtle promises conveyed by a weak chin), this distinguished person
+tried to look the secrets which his colleagues had never permitted him
+to learn. In moody weariness he would sometimes condescend to the
+company of his subordinates on the General Committee and, while
+listening to their irresponsible prattle, he would seem to forget the
+onerous public interests the absolute neglect of which was his chief
+duty at the Council board.
+
+Near this gentleman were two others, Hartley Penborough, the editor of
+_The Sentinel_, and the Hon. Charles Aumerle, whose guest he was.
+
+As Lord Reckage entered and showed some intention of joining in the
+conversation, they appeared by a silent and common consent to ignore his
+approach. He turned to the hall porter, gave him some instructions in a
+low voice and passed on, livid with annoyance, to the library beyond.
+
+"Hullo!" exclaimed Aumerle, "that was Reckage."
+
+"I know it," said Randall Hatchett.
+
+"Why didn't you speak to him?" asked Aumerle.
+
+"Because," said Bradwyn, "our good Hatchett is not so sure of himself
+that he can afford to be civil even to a President out of fashion!"
+
+No one smiled except Hatchett himself, because each one felt it was
+unwise to encourage Bradwyn's peculiar humour.
+
+"I would have spoken to Reckage," said Ullweather, with a superior air,
+"but I have never felt the same toward him since he threw over Orange
+at the time of his election."
+
+"And several other old friends more recently!" observed the injudicious
+Bradwyn.
+
+"I don't speak of myself," said Ullweather, "but Orange was unusually
+devoted to the fellow; and all I wish to make clear is this, that when
+Reckage ever said or did the right thing in times past, the credit was
+solely due to Orange. He weeded prophecy from his speeches, and rudeness
+from his jokes. Great services, I assure you!"
+
+"True," said Randall Hatchett, "for there is nothing more fatal to a
+political career than brilliant impromptus and spirited orations. A
+statesman's words, like butcher's meat, should be well weighed."
+
+"You have so many prescriptions for success," said Bradwyn, "that I
+wonder you ain't President yourself."
+
+"Reckage has taken us all in," said Ullweather.
+
+"By no means," said Bradwyn. "I maintained from the first that he was
+overrated. His genial manner--his open-hearted smile! Men always smile
+at creditors whom they don't intend to pay."
+
+"I foretold the whole situation," observed Penborough. "I said, 'Let
+Reckage once get full power, and he will fool us all.' He affects not to
+be ambitious, and to prefer moral science to immoral politics. I have no
+faith in these active politicians who make long speeches to the public,
+and assure their friends, in very short notes, that they prefer
+trout-fishing to the cares of State! There is but one man who can save
+the society now."
+
+Bradwyn, Hatchett, and Ullweather looked up, each armed with a modest
+and repudiating smile.
+
+"Who?" asked Hatchett, looking down.
+
+"Robert Orange," said Penborough.
+
+"Probably," replied Hatchett, after a minute's hesitation. "Probably,
+Orange ... in time."
+
+"Don't you like him?" said Penborough.
+
+"Like him!" answered Hatchett, rolling up his eyes. "He's an angel!"
+
+"He calls him an angel as though he wished he were one in reality," said
+Bradwyn. "I know these generous rivals!"
+
+Ullweather stood gnawing his upper lip.
+
+"Orange," he said, at last. "Oh, Orange has arrived. He will get no
+further. Of course, he won that election, but Dizzy managed that. Dizzy
+is the devil! And then, he is still devoted to Reckage, and, for a man
+of his supposed shrewdness, I call that a sign of evident weakness."
+
+At this, Charles Aumerle, who had been listening with the deepest
+attention to all that passed, looked straight at the speaker.
+
+"You should respect," said he, "that liberty, which we all have to
+deceive ourselves. Reckage has many good points."
+
+"But," said Penborough, "he has no moral force, no imagination. He
+judges men by their manners, which is silly. He thinks that every one
+who is polite to him believes in him. He will have to send in his
+resignation before long."
+
+"You don't mean it," said Aumerle.
+
+"I mean more," continued Penborough. "He could not choose a better
+moment than the present. In another month, on its present lines, the
+whole league will have foundered. Should he remain, he would have to
+sink with the ship. Now, however, it appears safe enough--people see
+only what you see--a good cargo of influential names on the committee
+and a clear horizon. He could plead ill-health, or his marriage--in
+fact, a dozen excellent reasons for momentary retirement. The world
+would praise his tact. As for the rest, those who have been
+disillusioned will lose their heads, those who were merely self-seekers
+will probably lose their places, but the trimmers always keep something.
+The thing, then, is to cultivate the art of trimming."
+
+"But you forget that Reckage is going to marry Miss Carillon," said
+Aumerle. "Miss Carillon will always advise the safe course."
+
+"That's all very well," said Bradwyn, "but there has been too much
+arrangement in that marriage! I can tell you how the engagement came
+about. She was intimate with his aunt. He acquired the habit of her
+society on all decorous occasions. Still, he never proposed. The aunt
+invited her to Almouth. She stayed two months. Still, not a word. Her
+papa grew impatient, ordered her home. The next day she came to the
+breakfast-table with red eyes, and announced her departure. The boxes
+were packed; she went to take a last look at the dear garden. Reckage
+followed, Fate accompanied him. He spoke. She sent a telegram to her
+papa: 'Detained. Important. Will write.' No, the real woman for him was
+Lady Sara de Treverell."
+
+Ullweather thrust his tongue into his cheek.
+
+"Lady Sara has been called to higher destinies," said he, "than the
+heavenly 'sweet hand in hand!'"
+
+"I see you know," said Bradwyn, with a mysterious glance.
+
+"Yes," said Ullweather. "The friendship of the Duke of Marshire for Lady
+Sara increases every day, and the little fit of giddiness which seized
+him when he was dining with my Chief makes me think that admiration is
+developing into love. I am in great hopes that this match may come off."
+
+"As to that," said Hatchett, "her father and the Duke were the night
+before last at Brooks's, but no conversation passed between them. This
+does not look as though a very near alliance were in contemplation."
+
+"There are prettier women than she in the world," said Aumerle.
+
+"I have never seen her," said Penborough.
+
+"Large eyes, a small head, and the devil of a temper," said Bradwyn;
+"and sympathies--there never was a young woman with so many sympathies!
+There is an old proverb," he added, with a sneer, "'They are not all
+friends of the bridegroom who seem to be following the bride.'"
+
+Ullweather was still absorbed in his own meditation.
+
+"Marshire," said he, "is the man for us. We might do something with
+Marshire."
+
+"Nevertheless," said Penborough, "I have my eye on Orange."
+
+"I say," exclaimed Bradwyn, "be careful. Here is Reckage again. How the
+dickens did he pass us?"
+
+The men glanced up at a solitary figure which now appeared descending
+the broad staircase. In silence, and with a studied expression of
+contempt, without a look either to the right or to the left, the
+unpopular leader passed through the hall and out into the street.
+
+"A lonely beggar, after all," said Bradwyn.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+Reckage was dining at home that evening with Orange, whose marriage was
+to take place at the Alberian Embassy on the morrow. The young man was
+not in good spirits at his friend's step, for he himself was about to
+take a wife also, and much of the apprehension which he felt on his own
+account found its vent in dreary soliloquies on the risk, sacrifices,
+responsibilities, and trouble involved by the single act of saddling
+oneself for a lifetime with some one woman. Reckage, for his own part,
+had loved one lady very well, yet not so madly that he could resign
+himself to loving her only, to the exclusion of all others. He walked
+along toward Almouth House in a mood of many vexations, cursing the
+impudence of Bradwyn and Ullweather, wondering whether he had done
+wisely, after all, in engaging himself to the blameless Miss Carillon,
+sighing a little over a rumour which had reached him about Sara de
+Treverell and the Duke of Marshire, deploring the obstinacy of Robert
+Orange where Mrs. Parflete was concerned. He admitted that Mrs. Parflete
+was an exceedingly beautiful, young, and, as it happened, rich person.
+He owned her delightfulness for a man of Robert's dreamy, romantic,
+intense temperament. But marriage between two idealists so highly
+strung, and so passionately attached as these two beings were--what
+would happen? No doubt they would be able to endure the inevitable
+disillusions--(inevitable because Nature is before all things sensual
+and has no care for mental prejudices one way or the other)--the
+inevitable disillusions of family life. It was scarcely possible that
+the devotion of Robert and Mrs. Parflete would not waver or seem less
+exquisite under this discipline. Their dream of love would become
+unparadised. It would gain a sadness, a melancholy, a note of despair
+hard to endure and most difficult to repress. Reckage had no
+transcendentalism in his own philosophy: he divided men into two
+classes--those who read, and those who could not stand, Dante. He
+included himself among the latter with a frankness at once astonishing
+and welcome even to numbers who thought him, in most matters, a
+hypocrite. The hold of the world was growing daily stronger upon him.
+His ambitions were already sullied by many unworthy and deadening ideas.
+He dwelt a great deal on the fleetingness of life, and the wisdom of
+making the best of its few charming things. Food, and wine, and money,
+and fine houses, and amusements were subjects on which he expended a
+large amount of silent enthusiasm. But, for all this, he could still
+see much to admire--perhaps to envy--in Robert's more spiritual mind,
+and he dreaded--as men often do dread in such cases--the effect of a
+woman's companionship on so ascetic a character.
+
+"He knows nothing about women--nothing," he told himself. "He has no
+experience. He takes them too seriously."
+
+He was, while he admitted his own unreasonableness, a little shocked at
+the very notion of Orange with a wife and children. It went against the
+grain, and upset the ideals of austerity which he had carefully
+planned--not for himself, but for his friend. Robert, he urged, was born
+to be an example--an encouragement to those who were called, by the
+mercy of God, to less rigorous vocations. Reckage suffered many scruples
+of conscience on Robert's account; he surveyed him with a sense of
+disappointment; he had always supposed that he would ultimately turn
+Jesuit in sober earnest, and die a martyr's death in the Far East. This
+would, in his opinion, have been a fine end to a Quixotic, very
+touching, most remarkable life. Would he now immaturely fall a victim to
+an enticing face and the cares of a household? Would he be able to
+sustain his character? One thing was certain. He could never again
+expect to exercise precisely the same potent influence as he had in the
+past, over his earth-bound, self-indulgent friends. Self-indulgent
+people always exacted unusual privations from those who would seek to
+move them--and Robert's call was clearly to materialists rather than to
+the righteous. Pusey married, it was true. Keble married. No one thought
+the less of them on that account. Even the judicious Hooker married. And
+they were clergymen. Reckage called them priests. But Newman did not
+marry, and, while Reckage was unable to agree in the main with Newman's
+views, he had a fixed notion that he was the strong man--the master
+spirit--among them. And another consideration. The passion of love has a
+danger for very sensitive, reserved, and concentrated minds unknown to
+creatures of more volatile, expansive, and unreflecting disposition.
+Reckage knew well that he was himself too selfish a man to let affection
+for any one creature come between his soul and its God. There was no
+self-discipline required in his case when a choice had to be made
+between a human being and his own advantage--whether temporal or
+eternal. He had never--since he was a youth--felt an immoderate fondness
+for anybody; he had likes and dislikes, admirations and partialities,
+jealousies, too, and well-defined tastes where feminine beauty was in
+question, but it was not in him to err from excess of charity. The
+imaginative and visionary parts of life--and no one is wholly without
+them--soon turned into severe reality whenever he found himself
+confronted with that sole absorbing interest--his career. Marriage, in
+his own case, seemed an imperative duty. He was an eldest son, the heir
+to an earldom and a vast estate; he wished to lead a distinguished,
+comfortable, and edifying existence. His wife would be a helpmate, not a
+snare; the mother of his children, not the light of his eyes. But what a
+difference in Robert's case--with his capacity for worship, for really
+intense and absorbing passion. All this was especially transparent to
+Reckage, who, as a man of the world, had watched his friend for months,
+detecting the shattering physical effects of an iron restraint imposed
+on every thought, mood, and inclination. He had enjoyed the spectacle:
+it was a good fight--this sharp, unceasing struggle between mere human
+nature, young, vigorous, sane, indefatigable, and an upright soul full
+of tenderness, yet forced to live in constant warfare. Awe, too, had
+mingled in Reckage's sensations while he looked on; something of pity
+and terror stirred under the callous muscle which he called his heart at
+the sight of a voiceless, stifled despair outside the range of his
+personal experience, though not entirely beyond his sympathy. All men
+did not love after this fashion, he knew, but humanity was full of
+surprises, and he had been too calm a student of other men's lives to
+feel astonishment at any fresh revelation either of their pain, their
+perversity, or their humours. He had felt so sure, however, that Robert
+would, in the end, get the better of that unhappy attachment; everything
+in the process of time had to surrender to reason, and it was not
+possible, he thought, that a strong, self-reliant man could long remain
+subdued by a mere infatuation.
+
+"And why doesn't he think of his health?" insisted Reckage; "it is
+really going between all this sleeplessness, and fasting, and over-work.
+Flesh and blood cannot bear the strain. He is never idle for one moment.
+He is afraid of brooding."
+
+It was with these sentiments of fear for the one creature he believed
+in, and hostility toward the woman who had presumed to interfere with
+the progress of that clear spirit, that he found himself at Almouth
+House. The blinds of the dining-room were but partially down. He could
+see the menservants within preparing the table which, set for two
+covers, showed a pretty display of cut-glass, flowers, old silver, and
+shining damask under the yellow rays of the lit candles. Some family
+portraits by Gainsborough and Reynolds, a Holbein, and a Vandyck, with
+lamps shining like footlights beneath them, were darkly visible on the
+dull blue walls. The famous mantelpiece inlaid with uncut turquoise was
+also within sight; and the sideboard with its load of Sèvres china and
+gold dishes. Reckage took great pride in these possessions, but it
+shocked his sense of dignity to see them thus exposed to the vulgar
+gaze.
+
+He let himself into the mansion with a latchkey, stormed at the servants
+for their carelessness, and made what is commonly known as a scene.
+
+Then he crossed the hall, and went into another fine room, which led by
+steps into a garden, and caught the sunset.
+
+Here, standing by the window with his back to the door, looking at the
+clouds, greyer than a gull's wing, which fled like driven souls across
+the sky, stood Orange.
+
+He turned as the latch moved, and Reckage, coming in, perceived the pale
+face, resolute, a little proud, and thoroughly inscrutable of his former
+secretary. Of fine height and broad-shouldered, Robert bore himself with
+peculiar firmness and ease. His brown eyes, with their brilliant,
+defiant glance, his close, dark beard, and powerful aquiline features;
+the entire absence of vanity, or the desire to produce an impression
+which showed itself in every line of his face and every movement of his
+body, indicated a type of individual more likely to attract the
+confidence of men than the sentimentality of women.
+
+The two young men greeted each other pleasantly, but with a certain
+reserve on each side.
+
+"So you are here!" said Reckage, seating himself. "I am sorry to be
+late. The fact is I caught sight of old Garrow and Sara de Treverell
+driving together in the Park, and it suddenly occurred to me to ask 'em
+to dine with us to-night. I raced after their brougham, but my brute of
+a horse--Pluto: you know the beast--gave me such a lot of trouble that I
+couldn't speak to them. How are you? You don't look very fit. Perhaps
+you are glad that we are alone. But Sara is a nice girl, and full of
+kindness. She's a good friend, too--just the friend for your wife. I
+thought of that."
+
+Robert resumed his post at the window, and studied the heavens. But if
+he sought for any answer to the many impassioned questions which were
+thronging his heart and mind at that moment, he looked in vain. For
+himself the struggles of the last year had been to a great degree
+subconscious. He had been like a sick man who, ignorant of the real
+gravity of his condition, fights death daily without a thought of the
+unequal strife, or the suspense of his physicians. He had abandoned
+himself to study, immersed himself in work; he was neither morbid nor an
+amorist; and while he felt a stinging misery for ever in his heart, he
+bore it with manly reticence, without complaint, without despair. Love,
+in his case, had meant the idealisation of the whole of life--the life
+of action and the life within the soul. It had transfigured the world,
+lit up and illumined every dark corner, answered every turbulent doubt.
+From the habit of this wholly mental emotion, he had lost, little by
+little, the sense of the actual bodily existence of the woman herself.
+It is true that he thought of her always as some one modestly beautiful,
+of childish form, with a face like a water-nymph's--imperious, magical,
+elusive, yet, whenever he found himself in her presence, she seemed
+further away than when they were, in fact, apart. The kiss he had given
+her on the day of their betrothal had been as strange, indefinable, and
+irrealisable as the passing of one hour into the next. There had been
+the time before he kissed her, there was the time afterwards, but the
+transition had been so swift, and so little recognised, so inevitable,
+that while it drew both their lives down deep into the wild, pitiless
+surge of human feeling, she still remained more dearly and completely
+his by intuition than when he held her--a true woman--in his arms. The
+moral training of a lifetime, the unceasing, daily discipline of a mind
+indulgent to others, but most severe with itself, had given him a
+self-mastery in impulse and desire which, although the aspect of affairs
+had changed, he could not easily, or even willingly, relax. His soul
+drew back from its new privileges, sweet as they were--and he was too
+honest to deny their overpowering sweetness--they seemed like the
+desecration of a most sacred thought. Vainly he reasoned, vainly he
+admitted the folly of such scruples. They remained. Asceticism is a
+faithful quality. It is won by slow and painful stages, with bitter
+distress and mortifying tears, but once really gained, the losing is
+even harder than the struggle for its acquisition.
+
+And so the young man found himself in that hard position when judgment
+and prejudice stand opposed so utterly that victory either way must mean
+a lasting regret. Perhaps he was not the first bridegroom who felt
+loath, on the eve of his marriage, to change the delicate, almost
+ethereal tenderness of betrothed lovers for the close and intimate
+association of husband and wife. The one relationship has something in
+it immaterial, exquisite, and unearthly, a bond invisible and yet as
+potent as the winds we cannot see and the melodies we only hear. The
+other, with its profound appeals to mortality, its demands upon all that
+is strongest in affection and eternal in courage, its irreparableness,
+suffering, and constancy, might, indeed, have the grandeur of all human
+tragedy, and the dignity of a holy state; but that it could ever be so
+beautiful as the love which is a silent influence was to Robert then, at
+least, an inconceivable idea. He felt upon him and around him, in his
+flesh and in his spirit, in the air and in the whole world, the
+all-enveloping shadow of remorse. The dormant possibilities of his own
+fanatical nature rose up before him--pale, inarticulate fiercenesses
+crushed so long, and now trembling eagerly under his breath at the
+prospect of a little more liberty in loving. A suspicion that already he
+loved perhaps too well and far too passionately thrilled through his
+conscience, and tortured a heart to whom thought was a refuge and
+feeling a martyrdom.
+
+Reckage, watching Robert from a corner of the room, grew irritated at
+the silence, and wondered, with a cruel and jealous curiosity, what was
+passing in his mind. He wondered whether he was praying. An impulse,
+which had something in it of brute fury, urged him to tear open that
+still face and drag the thoughts behind it to the light. Why was it
+that one could never, by any sense, enter into another's spirit?
+The same torturing mystery had often disturbed him during the
+half-hours--outwardly placid and commonplace--which he spent, out of
+etiquette, with his future bride. She, too, retired behind the veil of
+her countenance to live a hidden life that he could never hope to join.
+How lonely was companionship in these conditions, and how desolate
+marriage!
+
+He could not resist the temptation to break in, with a touch of crude
+satire, upon his friend's solitude.
+
+"What is the matter?" he exclaimed, "are you hungry?"
+
+"No," said Robert, so well accustomed to such violent jars that they
+could no longer disturb him; "I was only thinking...."
+
+"About what?"
+
+"All sorts of things."
+
+Reckage turned pale from dissatisfied inquisitiveness.
+
+"I think, too," he answered, "but I can throw out a word now and again."
+
+Then, making the remark that he was not dressed for dinner, he left the
+room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+The dinner, in the ordering of which the host had expended all his
+gastronomical knowledge and much anxiety, seemed long. Orange found
+himself opposite the famous portrait of "Edwyn, Lord Reckage of
+Almouth," which represents that nobleman elaborately dressed, reclining
+on a grassy bank by a spring of water, with a wooded landscape, a
+sunrise, and a squire holding two horses in the distance. Robert
+studied, and remembered always, every detail of that singular
+composition. The warrior's shield, with its motto "_Magica sympathia_,"
+his fat white hands, velvet breeches, steel cuirass, and stiff lace
+collar remained for days a grotesque image before his mind. He traced,
+too, a certain resemblance between Reckage and that ancestor--they both
+wore pointed red beards, both were fair of skin, both had a dreaming
+violence in their blue eyes.
+
+"You must have some pheasant," said his lordship, at last. "You are
+eating nothing. And that Burgundy, you know, is unique of its kind. It
+was a present from the Emperor of the French to mamma. Her people were
+civil to him when he was regarded as a sort of adventurer. And he never
+forgot it. He's a very decent fellow. I dined with him at the
+Tuileries--did I mention it?"
+
+Robert replied that he fancied he had heard of the occurrence.
+
+"Well," continued his friend, "I might have enjoyed that experience, but
+I was feeling depressed at the time; a lot of the depression went under
+the influence of frivolous talk, military music, and champagne. Yet, all
+the same, do these things really count for much? I felt just as wretched
+afterwards."
+
+The glimpse he had obtained that afternoon of Sara de Treverell--Sara
+flushed with agitation, very bright in her glance, exceedingly subtle in
+her smile, had stirred a great tenderness he had once felt for that
+young lady. The news, too, that she had been chosen as a bride by the
+prudent, rich, and most important Duke of Marshire made his lordship
+feel that perhaps he had committed a blunder in not having secured her,
+during her first season, for himself. He feared that he had lost an
+opportunity; and this reflection, while it lowered temporarily his
+self-esteem, placed Sara on a dangerous eminence. She would be a
+duchess--one of the great duchesses. Little Sara!
+
+"She was looking extraordinarily handsome," he exclaimed. "Of course she
+means to take him. But she liked me at one time. I am speaking of Sara
+de Treverell. Marshire is by way of being a stick. Who could have
+imagined him going in for a high-spirited, brilliant girl like Sara?"
+
+Formerly he had always spoken of Sara as a clever little devil, but
+Robert showed no surprise at the new adjective.
+
+"Brilliant!" repeated his lordship. "Don't you agree?"
+
+"Absolutely. She is the most brilliant girl in London."
+
+"But heartless," said his lordship pathetically; "she hasn't one bit of
+heart."
+
+"There I don't agree with you. Of course she is strange and rather
+wild."
+
+"_Tête-montée._ And then the Asiatic streak!"
+
+"True. The fiercest wind cannot take the angles out of the bough of a
+tree an inch thick. You may break it, but you cannot destroy its angles.
+That is so, no doubt, with one's racial tendencies. The girl is wilful
+and romantic. It will be very bad for them both if there is no love on
+her side. She is capable, I should say, of very deep affection."
+
+"She did like me," said his lordship, with emphasis and
+satisfaction--"she really did. And I wouldn't encourage it. I had no
+notion then of marrying. Her singularity, too, made me cautious. I
+couldn't believe in her. She talked like an actress in a play. I felt
+that she was not the woman for me. Essentially she thought as I did,
+and seemed to comprehend my embarrassment. The worst of it is now--I may
+have been wrong."
+
+"I doubt it. You may be sure, on the whole, that your instincts were
+right."
+
+"Still, there is a distinct misgiving. I was drawn toward her, and, when
+I made up my mind to put an end to the matter, our friendship was
+severely strained. But it was not broken. Something I saw in her face
+to-day makes me sure that it was not broken."
+
+While he was speaking the servant entered with a salver, and on the
+salver was a note. The address showed Sara's large, defiant
+hand-writing. Reckage, who had a touch of superstition in his nature,
+changed colour and even hesitated before he broke the seal. The
+coincidence seemed extraordinary and fatal. What did it mean? He read
+the letter with an irresistible feeling of proud delight.
+
+"20A, ST. JAMES'S SQUARE, W.
+
+"MY DEAR BEAUCLERK,--Will you lunch with us to-morrow at two o'clock?
+Papa has invited a friend--a dreadful, boring friend--who has been
+absent from England for five years. Do you know the man? Sir Piers
+Harding? But I want some one to encourage me. You? Do!
+
+"Yours sincerely,
+
+"S. L. V. DE TREVERELL.
+
+"P.S.--I am so happy about you and Agnes. Be kind to her always? Won't
+you?"
+
+All his life he had found a difficulty in understanding women--the
+significance of their words, the precise translation of their glances,
+and their motives generally. He had nourished his experience on French
+novels; he had corrected it by various friendships; he had crowned it
+with the confession that one could never tell what the sex meant one way
+or the other. But this fact remained--he was a coxcomb, and, whenever he
+owned himself puzzled, it was on a single ground only--how seriously was
+the lady at stake affected by his charms? Feeling, as he did, the
+infinite inequality that existed between men, and conscious of his own
+reputation as a leader among them, it was not in his conscience to
+encourage any woman whom he did not find especially attractive or
+useful. Why spoil her chances? Why make her discontented with the
+average male creature? Had Sara written to him in ordinary
+circumstances, inviting him, after some months of mutual coldness, to
+lunch, he would have replied, with sorrowful dignity, that it was wiser
+to leave things as they were. But the case had altered. The future
+Duchess of Marshire was a personage. He made no secret of his admiration
+for all people of high rank. They represented influence and traditions;
+what was more, they could exercise a certain power, and introduce, when
+necessary, the ideas upon which fresh traditions could be based. A
+friend like Sara de Treverell with her new honours made life itself
+more rich to him. When he remembered that she was young, handsome,
+enthusiastic, and impulsive, his pleasure thrilled into something of
+genuine passion. He told himself that he had always been fond of the
+girl; that hundreds of times he had felt the hardness of his scrupulous
+position where she was concerned. If he had been asked what especially
+he conceived his own duty to be now, he would have said that it was not
+for him to hang back when she showed a coming spirit. But this was not
+all. He was a gamester; he was ambitious.
+
+"This is very odd," said he, reading Sara's note for the second time,
+"very odd. There's no harm in showing it to you, because there is
+nothing in it."
+
+He gave it to his friend, and ate, pleasantly, while Orange glanced down
+the page. His soul's wish was to be left alone. The effort of forcing
+himself--not to affect but honestly to feel--an interest in Reckage's
+conversation had proved successful. He had indeed put aside his own
+thoughts, and followed, with the exaggerated earnestness of a mind
+determined on self-sacrifice, every word his companion had uttered. The
+spirit invisible wears the laurel of mental victories, but the body has
+to bear the exhaustion, the scars, and the soreness. He was tired, but
+he stirred himself again to consider Sara's note. In the course of that
+year she had written several letters to Orange--letters about books, new
+pictures, and new music. Once she had given him a little song of her
+own composition as something of which she "desired to hear no more for
+ever." The song was sentimental, and he locked it away, wondering at the
+time whether she really had an unfortunate affection for Lord Reckage.
+But in reading her note that evening he decided against his original
+fear. Women did not write in that strain to men whom they loved, or had
+ever loved ... even passably well. He returned it to the owner with this
+comment--
+
+"A woman, you know, is like your shadow: run away from her and she
+follows you; run after her and she flies from you. That's an old saying.
+It is true so long as she does not love the man. And when she loves the
+man--well, then she ceases to be a shadow. She becomes a living thing."
+
+"That is no answer at all. If you could read her heart and whole thought
+at this moment, what would you see there?"
+
+"Unhappiness," said Robert; "discontent."
+
+Reckage took the little sheet and folded it into his pocket-book.
+
+"That's wonderful," said he, "because the same things are in my mind,
+too. I wish I could describe my feelings about Agnes. She satisfies the
+æsthetic side of my nature. But there is another side. And Sara comes
+nearer to it than she. Mind you, I know my duty in the matter. There are
+things which one is compelled to do under tremendous penalties. I have
+chosen, and I must abide by my choice."
+
+Robert looked well at his friend, and saw, in his expression, all that
+he had known would inevitably, either soon or too late, work to the
+surface.
+
+"Yet the old tremulous affection lies in me," continued Reckage; "my
+nerves are in a kind of blaze. You couldn't tell anything about it,
+because you don't know."
+
+The Emperor's burgundy, no doubt, had warmed his spirit to
+communicativeness. He drew his chair closer to the table, and talked in
+a low voice about his ghastly solitude of soul. His engagement to Miss
+Carillon had not been an agreeable experience.
+
+"And marriage," said he, "will be the crowning point of these unbearable
+days. In the present state of my feelings it would be awful. Agnes is
+very kind and most conscientious, but she does not know what is in me,
+what was always and will always be there. Old reminiscences crowd round
+me. They are very beautiful, although they are so sad."
+
+"What is one to do?" said Robert, "in the presence of fate and facts? It
+is necessary to look the affair in the face. Do you, or don't you, wish
+to marry Miss Carillon?"
+
+"I do, and I don't," answered Reckage doggedly. "But I can't close my
+eyes to the circumstances of the case. I found myself hard bested from
+the very beginning. I knew that I was expected to marry her. I knew,
+too, that it was a suitable match in every way. But then every girl is,
+to some extent, accomplished, pious, virtuous, and intelligent. I
+believe sometimes that my apparent indifference towards Agnes arises
+from the fact that I respect her--if anything--too much. She seems too
+remote--that is the word--for the ordinary wear and tear of domesticity.
+Other men--who might be called impassioned lovers--would be less
+scrupulous. I maintain that devotion of that violent kind is worth
+absolutely nothing. And I claim to know a little about life and love."
+
+"I should say," said Orange, "that you knew more about mere physiology."
+
+Reckage laughed uneasily.
+
+"You keep your mediæval views!" said he. "Perhaps I envy you. I can't
+say. I don't think I envy any one. I am quite contented."
+
+"Then what are you driving at?"
+
+"Oh well, a fellow must think. You see, Sara suits me, in a sense. I am
+not afraid of her. Now a wife is a sacred object. You might as well
+flirt with the Ten Commandments as fall in love with your wife. I say,
+never begin love-making with the lady you hope to marry. It will end in
+disaster. Because the day must come when she will wonder why you have
+changed. No, a wife should be the one woman in the world with whom you
+can spend days and weeks of unreproved coldness."
+
+They were now smoking, and the tobacco seemed to produce a
+tranquillising effect upon his lordship. He closed his lips and amused
+himself by puffing rings of smoke into the air. When he next spoke, he
+suggested a visit to the theatre. He had engaged a box for the new
+burlesque, "_The Blue Princess_."
+
+"It will be very good, and it will cheer us up," said he.
+
+Orange was in no mood for the entertainment, but Reckage's evident
+misery seemed to require a fresh scene. The streets, as they left the
+house, were full of a deep purple fog, through which shone out, with a
+dull and brazen gleam, the lights of lamps and passing carriages. Above
+them, the sky was but a pall or vapour; the air, charged with the
+emotions, the struggling energy, the cruelty, confusion, painfulness,
+and unceasing agitation of life in a vast city, was damp and stifling; a
+noise of traffic--as loud but not so terrible as a breaking
+storm--destroyed the peace of night; there were foot passengers of every
+age and description moving like rooks in the wind, over the pavement,
+and vehicles filled with men and women--an irremediable pilgrimage
+bound, for the greater part, on pleasure. Robert felt that he would have
+given gladly the treasures of a universe for just the time to think a
+little while of his own love. So far that great attachment had brought
+him aberrations, sorrow, and perplexities; all its sweetness had flown,
+moth-like, into his heart, there to be burnt--burnt yet left unburied:
+all its happiness had glorified his life against his will; all its
+beauty had been starved with a pitiless rigour. What then had remained?
+A certain state of mind--a passionate resignation to its own
+indomitable cravings. And now on the eve of his marriage--a marriage
+never so much as imagined, far less hoped for--he could not have the
+leisure to behold, through tears of relief, the complete transformation
+of his destiny--once so frightful, now so joyous. The theatre was
+crowded, and when the two young men entered their box the burlesque was
+at the beginning of the second act. The scene represented an orange
+grove by moonlight, and a handsome girl in spangled muslin was
+whispering loudly, to an accompaniment of harps, her eternal fidelity to
+a gesticulating troubadour. Both performers were immensely popular, and
+the duet, with its refrain--
+
+    "Love, I will love thee always,
+      For ever is not too long;
+    Love, e'en in dark and dreary days,
+      This shall be my one song,"
+
+was repeated three times to the smiling, serene, and thoroughly
+convinced audience. Reckage, who attended public places of amusement
+solely from the desire of exhibiting himself, gave but a side-glance at
+the stage and turned his opera glass upon the auditorium.
+
+"Really, town is very full," said he; "I suppose many of them are up for
+the Hauconberg wedding. There's old Cliddesdon--just look at him. Did
+you ever see such an infernal ass? Hullo! I thought that Millie
+Warfield wouldn't be far off. She's a perfect rack of bones. Lady
+Michelmarsh is getting rather pretty--it's wonderful how these dowdy
+girls can work up their profiles after a month or two in town. She was a
+lump as a bride--a regular lump. You never met anything like it. Aumerle
+is talking to her now. He was at the Capitol this afternoon. He begins
+to give himself airs. I can't stand him. In fact, I cannot understand
+those fellows on my sub-committee. Sometimes they are--if anything--too
+civil. A bit servile, in fact. Then they turn out and look as though
+they would like to make their teeth meet in my backbone. They sulk, and
+whisper in groups, and snicker. I am getting sick of it. I must get rid
+of them. By Jove! there's David Rennes, the painter. I thought he was at
+Amesbury--with the Carillons, doing Agnes's portrait. It can't be
+finished. She said distinctly in her letter this morning--"I may not add
+more because I have to give Mr. Rennes a sitting while the light is
+good." Where's the letter? I must have left it on the breakfast-table.
+Anyhow that is what she said. I'll catch Rennes' eye and have him up. He
+is not a bad sort."
+
+The act-drop had now descended, the lights were turned on to their full
+power, and Orange, following the direction of Reckage's gaze, saw, in
+the last row of the stalls, a large man about nine-and-thirty with an
+emotional, nervous face, a heavy beard, and dense black hair. He was
+leaning forward, for the seat in front of him was, at the moment,
+vacant; his hands were tightly locked, his eyes fixed on the curtain. At
+last Reckage's determined stare produced its effect. He moved, glanced
+toward the box, and, in response to his lordship's signal, left his
+place. Two minutes later Orange heard a tap at the door.
+
+"That's right," said Reckage, as Rennes entered, "take Orange's chair.
+He doesn't care a bit about the play, or anything in it. He is going to
+get married to-morrow. You know Robert Orange, don't you? You ought to
+paint him. Saint Augustine with a future. _Mon devoir, mes livres, et
+puis ... et puis, madame, ma femme._"
+
+The Emperor's burgundy, indeed, had not been opened in vain. Rennes
+could talk well, sometimes brilliantly, often with originality, and,
+with the tact of all highly sensitive beings, he led the conversation
+into impersonal themes. He said Miss Carillon's portrait was not yet
+finished, but he changed that subject immediately, and the evening,
+which had been to Orange a trial of patience, ended rather better than
+it began. Lord Reckage invited Rennes to accompany them home. The artist
+did not appear, at first, in the mood to accept that invitation. He,
+too, seemed to have many things he wished to think about undisturbed,
+and in the silence of his own company. His hesitation passed, however;
+the kindness in his nature had been roused by something unusual,
+haunting, ominous in Robert's face.
+
+"I will come," said he.
+
+All the way, on their walk to Almouth House, he kept Reckage amused.
+Orange never once felt under the necessity to speak. He was able to
+dream, to hold his breath, to remember that he loved and was loved
+again, that he would see her to-morrow--to-morrow quite early, and then,
+no more unutterable farewells, heart-desolating separations. He
+surprised himself by saying aloud--"I love you ... I love you." The two
+men, engrossed in talk, did not hear him. But he had caught the words,
+and it seemed as though he heard his own voice for the first time.
+
+"You must want some supper," said Reckage--"a rum omelette."
+
+"No! no! I couldn't."
+
+He sat down to the table, however, and watched them eat. First the
+burlesque was discussed, then the actresses, the dresses, the dancing.
+
+"Russia is the place for dancing," said Reckage, "I assure you. There
+was a dancer at Petersburg.... Something-or-other-_ewski_ was her name,
+and a fellow shot himself while I was there on her account. An awful
+fool. I can tell you who painted her portrait. A Frenchman called
+Carolus-Duran. I believe he has a career before him. What is your
+opinion of French art?"
+
+Rennes had studied in Paris and was well acquainted with the artist in
+question. They talked about the exhibitions of the year and the prices
+paid at a recent sale of pictures.
+
+"Old Garrow has some fine pictures," said Reckage. "I would give a good
+deal for his Ghirlandajo. Do you know it? And then that noble Tintoret?
+There are so many persons whose position in life compels them to
+encourage art without having any real enjoyment of it. Garrow is one of
+those persons. But his daughter, Lady Sara, has a touch of genius. She's
+a musician. You have heard her play, haven't you, Robert?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Robert had, at that instant, observed upon the mantelpiece a letter
+addressed to himself. It was from Brigit. He grew pale, and retired,
+with the little envelope lightly written on, to a far corner of the
+room. For some moments he could not break the seal. The sight of her
+writing filled him with a kind of agony--something beyond his control,
+beyond his comprehension. What did it mean--this tightening of the
+heart, this touch of fear, and love, and fear again, so deep that the
+whole web of life trembled and its strings grew confused one with
+another, and all was anguish, darkness, self-renunciation, and a wild, a
+dreadful mystery of human influence? At last he opened the letter.
+
+     "MY DEAREST," it began, "I can never say all that I wish to say,
+     because when I am with you I forget everything and watch your face.
+     When I am away from you I forget your face, and I long to see it
+     again in order that I may remember it more perfectly! It is so hard
+     not to think of you too often. But I have had a great deal of
+     sorrow, and everything I have in the world--except you--is a grief.
+     I know that we are not born to be happy, and so, I wonder, have we
+     stolen our happiness? If it is a gift--I know not what to do with
+     it. I cannot speak a happy language: the atmosphere is strange and
+     frightens me. Dear Robert, I am terrified, uncertain, but when we
+     meet to-morrow you will give me courage. And then, as we shall not
+     part again, I need never again be, as I am now, too anxious. Your
+     BRIGIT."
+
+Reckage's voice broke in again.
+
+"I do wish you would try this rum omelette. It is capital."
+
+Orange laughed, but left the room. Rennes remarked that he had a
+powerful face.
+
+"Yes. He has a strong character. And he would never deceive another. But
+he deceives himself hourly--daily."
+
+"In what way?" asked Rennes.
+
+"He doesn't know," said Reckage, "what a devilish fine chap he is! I
+wish to God that I could prevent this marriage."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I say nothing against Mrs. Parflete. She's a high-class woman and so
+on. Awfully beautiful, too. As clever as they make 'em, and not a breath
+against her. All the same, I am not very sweet on love matches for men
+of Orange's calibre. They never answer--never."
+
+"I don't agree with you there," replied the artist, "because I believe
+that a love match--even when it dissolves, as it may, into a mistake--is
+the best thing that can happen to any man."
+
+After this they discussed bindings. Lord Reckage was the first amateur
+authority on the subject.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+At five the next morning Robert was writing letters. Then, as soon as
+the gates of Hyde Park were open, he walked out. The recurrence of
+familiar sentiments on the essentials that make up the condition known
+as happiness would neither convince, nor inspire, the powers of an
+imagination which, with all its richness, was, apart from the purely
+artistic faculty, analytical and foreboding. Self-doubt, however, has no
+part in passion. Of the many miseries it may bring, this, perhaps the
+worst of human woes, can never be in its train. Men in love--and women
+also--may distrust all things and all creatures, but their own emotion,
+like the storm, proves the reality of its force by the mischief it
+wreaks. Robert's spirit, borne along by this vehemence of feeling,
+caught the keen sweetness of the early air, not yet infected by the
+day's traffic. His melancholy--the inevitable melancholy produced by
+sustained thought on any subject, whether sublime or simple--was
+dispelled. The Park, which was empty but for a few men on their way to
+work, and runners anxious to keep in training, had its great trees
+still beautiful from the lingering glance of summer; the wide and misty
+stretches of grey grass were fresh in dew; the softness and
+haze--without the gloom--of autumn were in the atmosphere. The pride of
+love requited and the instincts of youth could not resist these spells
+of nature. Robert remembered only that it was his wedding-day: that
+every throb of his pulse and every second of time brought him nearer to
+the supreme joy of his life and the supreme moment. He had never used
+his nerves with bliss and tears, and he did not belong to the large army
+of young gentlemen who own themselves proudly
+
+    "Light half-believers of our casual creeds,
+    Who never deeply felt, nor clearly will'd....
+    Who hesitate and falter life away,
+    And lose to-morrow the ground won to-day."
+
+This view of heroism was not possible to him, and he was too strong in
+mind and body to pretend to it. The two things which affect a career
+most profoundly are religion, or the lack of it, and marriage--or not
+marrying; for these things only penetrate to the soul and make what may
+be called its perpetual atmosphere. The Catholic Faith, which ignores no
+single possibility in human feeling and no possible flight in human
+idealism, produces in those who hold it truly a freshness of heart very
+hard to be understood by the dispassionate critic who weighs character
+by the newest laws of his favourite degenerate, but never by the
+primeval tests of God. Robert, therefore, was thinking of his bride's
+face, the pure curves of her mouth, her sapphirine eyes, her pretty
+hands, her golden hair, the nose which others found fault with, which
+he, nevertheless, thought wholly delightful. He wondered what she would
+say and how she would look when they met. Would she be pale? Would she
+be frightened? There had always been a certain agony in every former
+meeting because of the farewell which had to follow. With all his habits
+of self-control, he had never been able to feel quite sure that the word
+too much would not be said, that the glance too long would not be given.
+Her own simplicity, he told himself, had saved him from disaster. She
+showed her affection so fearlessly--with such tender and discerning
+trust--that his worst struggles were in solitude--not in her presence at
+all. It was when he was away from her immediate peaceful influence that
+the fever, the restlessness, the torments and the desperation (has not
+old Burton summed up for us the whole situation and all the symptoms in
+his "_Anatomy_"?) had to be endured and conquered. These trials now--for
+even a sense of humour could not make them less than trials--were ended.
+The tragi-comic labour of walking too much and riding too much, working
+and smoking too much, thinking and sleeping too little--the whole dreary
+business, in fact, of stifling any absorbing idea or ruling passion,
+would be no more.
+
+When he returned to Almouth House, Reckage was already dressed for his
+official duties as "best man." He felt an unwonted and genuine
+excitement about Robert's marriage. He put aside the languor, _ennui_,
+and depression which he felt too easily on most occasions, and, that day
+at least, he was, as his own servant expressed it, "nervous and cut-up."
+
+"I shall miss the swimming, the boxing, the fencing, and the pistol
+practice," he complained, referring to diversions in which Orange was an
+expert and himself the bored but dutiful participant. "They nearly
+always drop these things when they marry." The loss he really feared was
+the moral support and affection of his former secretary--advantages
+which a selfish nature is slow to appreciate, yet most tenacious of when
+once convinced of their use. The nuptial mass had been fixed for eight
+o'clock, the wedding party were to breakfast at Almouth House
+afterwards, then the bride and groom were to leave by the mail for
+Southampton _en route_ for Miraflores in Northern France. The two young
+men drove together to the chapel attached to the Alberian Embassy. Not a
+word passed between them, but Reckage, under his eyelids, examined every
+detail of his friend's attire. He wondered at its satisfactoriness on
+the whole, inasmuch as Orange had not seen fit to consult him on the
+point. The church was small and grey and sombre; the flowers on the
+altar (sent by his lordship) were all white; their perfume filled the
+building.
+
+"They look very nice," said Reckage, "and in excellent taste. Some of
+these old pictures on the wall are uncommonly good, and I particularly
+like that bronze crucifix. Ten to one if it isn't genuine eleventh
+century. I will ask the old fellow afterwards. He's a dear. His Latin is
+lovely. It's an artistic pleasure to hear him read the Gospel. I looked
+in the other morning, just to get the run, as it were, of the place. By
+Jove! Here they are."
+
+Pensée Fitz Rewes came first--very graceful in lavender silk, and
+accompanied by her little boy, who showed by an unconscious anxiety of
+expression that he felt instinctively his mother's air of contentment
+was assumed. Then Baron Zeuill, with Brigit on his arm, followed. The
+Baron looked grave--too grave for the happy circumstances. Brigit seemed
+as pale as the lilies on the altar; she was less beautiful but more
+ethereal than usual. There was something frail, transparent,
+unsubstantial about her that day which Robert had never noticed before.
+Had the many emotional strains of the last year tried her delicate youth
+beyond endurance? She seemed very childish, too, and immature. She took
+Orange's hand when he met her, held it closely, and watched the others
+with a kind of wonder most pitiful to witness--as though she had
+suffered too much from her contact with life and could no more. Her eyes
+seemed darker than the sapphires to which Robert had so often compared
+them: this effect, he told himself, was due to the strong contrast given
+by the pallor of her face. It was quite clear, however, that she was
+not under the influence then of any dominant thought. Her nerves and
+senses were strained to that extreme tension resembling apathy, until
+the vibration given by some touch or tone sets the whole system
+trembling with all the spiritual and bodily forces which make the
+mystery of human life. She spoke her responses, signed the register, and
+walked out from the church on Robert's arm without a single change of
+countenance or token of feeling. As they drove away from the church, she
+flushed a little and drew far back, with a new timidity, into her
+corner. One look she gave of perfect love and confidence. She pressed
+his hand and held it, for a moment, against her cheek. But neither of
+them spoke. And indeed, what was there to be said? The identification of
+their two minds had been full and absolute from the moment of their
+first encounter long ago in Chambord. The accidental differences of sex
+and age, training, accomplishments, and education had not affected--and
+could not affect--a sympathy in temperament which depended--not on the
+similarity of opinions--but on a similarity of moral fibre. Many forms
+can be cut, by the same hand, from the same piece of marble, and
+although one may be a grotesque and the other a cross, one a pursuing
+goddess and the other an angel for a tomb, the same substance, light,
+touch, and colour will be characteristic of all four. Marriage, at best,
+could but give a certain crude emphasis to the strange spiritual bond
+which united these two beings. Practical as they both were in the common
+affairs of life, they shrank from anything which would promise to
+materialise the subtleties of the mind. Some thoughts, they felt, were
+as impalpable as sounds, and, just as music ceases to be divine when it
+is poured out of some mechanical contrivance, so the mysteries of the
+human soul become mere bodily conditions--more or less humiliating--when
+demonstrated, catalogued, and legalised. There is nothing modern nor
+uncommon in this especial disposition. One may describe it as ascetic,
+anæmic, sentimental, hysterical, neurotic; but the men and women who
+possess this fragile organism show, as a rule, powers of endurance and a
+strength of will by no means characteristic of the average sanguine and
+sensual creature who eats, drinks, fights, loves, and does his best in a
+world which he calls vile, yet would not renounce for all the ecstasies
+of Paradise.
+
+The carriage wheels rolled on--as swift and noiseless as the sand in an
+hour-glass. Why was the road so short? Why could they not be carried
+thus for ever, tranquil with happiness, wanting nothing, seeking
+nothing, bound no-whither? Foolish questions and a foolish longing: yet
+happiness consists in being able to formulate wishes with the serene
+knowledge that a better wisdom directs their fulfilment. Neither
+passers-by nor other vehicles, neither houses nor streets caught the
+entranced attention of these young lovers. The delight of being purely
+self-absorbed is very great and intoxicating to those who are
+constantly--either by desire or the force of circumstances--unselfish. A
+faint flush swept into Brigit's face under the effect of an experience
+so novel. Their twofold consciousness had all the pathos of
+self-effacement, and all the thrill of satisfied egoism. Such instants
+cannot last, and they are shortest when one's habits of thought are
+antagonistic to such luxury. Brigit sighed deeply, and roused herself
+with a painful sense that the minute she wilfully cut short had been the
+sweetest in her life.
+
+"Pensée," she said, "has been so kind to me. She gave me her room at
+Wight House last night. She had the little dressing-room just off it.
+Did you notice her dress? She was very anxious that you should like it."
+
+"She seemed all right," said Robert; "and wasn't Reckage splendid?"
+
+Having spoilt their perfect moment, they became as mere mortals, more at
+ease in this planet, where complete joy has an unfamiliar mien. Brigit's
+actual physical beauty returned. The sunshine stole in at the open
+window and lit up her golden hair, which was half hidden by a hat with
+white plumes. She looked down at her hand with its new wedding ring, and
+was pleasantly aware of Robert's admiration.
+
+"I am so glad," she exclaimed, "that you think my hand is nice. Because
+I have given it to you for all time. And if you are ever tired, or
+discouraged, or unhappy, or lonely, and you want me, I shall come to
+you."
+
+"But you will be with me now always."
+
+"Yes," she answered. "Yes, Robert, always."
+
+They had now reached Almouth House. Her little foot, with its arched
+instep, seemed too slight and delicate for the pavement. Robert knew
+that her arm rested upon his, because he felt it trembling. They crossed
+the threshold together. The doors closed after them.
+
+"And he never once kissed her on the way from church!" exclaimed the
+footman.
+
+But the coachman did not think this very peculiar. "I don't hold with
+kissing," said he; "to my mind there's nothing in it. Kissing is for
+boys and gals--not for men and wives."
+
+Baron Zeuill was unable to join them all at breakfast, but Pensée, and
+Reckage, and David Rennes (who had been especially invited the night
+before because he had proved so entertaining), did more than their duty
+as friends by talking feverishly, eating immoderately, and affecting the
+conventional joyousness universally thought proper at such times. Pensée
+ventured to make a reference to the forthcoming marriage of the "best
+man," and expressed the faltering hope that "dear Agnes would be as
+happy as dear Brigit." Reckage scowled. Rennes was seized with a fit of
+coughing. It was the one unlucky hit in the whole conversation, and it
+was soon forgotten by every one present except Orange, who remembered
+it frequently in later days. At last the hour for departure came.
+Pensée, weeping, kissed Brigit on both cheeks, looked into her grave
+eyes long and lovingly, put her arms around the slight, girlish form
+with that exquisite, indefinable tenderness, unconscious,
+unpremeditated, and protective, which married women show toward very
+youthful brides. Robert handed his wife into the brougham, the order was
+given "To Waterloo," the horses started, rice and slippers were thrown.
+
+"They go into the world for the first time," exclaimed Rennes.
+
+Then Pensée was assisted into the barouche, and drove homewards.
+
+"We shall meet again," she said, as she parted from Reckage; "we meet at
+Sara's at lunch."
+
+The two men were thus left alone. They decided to smoke, for they were
+both a little affected by the pathos of the situation.
+
+"Explain Robert," said his lordship, as they returned to the
+dining-room, "explain that kind of love. You are an artist."
+
+"Well, it isn't my way," rejoined the other, with a forced laugh, "but
+there are many manifestations of personal magnetism."
+
+"This kind is very interesting," said Reckage, "although it is, of
+course, high-flown. Orange is romantic and scrupulous--he knows next to
+nothing of the sensual life; and that next to nothing is merely a source
+of disgust and remorse. You follow me?"
+
+"Perfectly," said Rennes. "It is a question of temperament. The wonder
+is that he has not entered, in some delirium of renunciation, the
+priesthood."
+
+"That would mean, for his gifts, a closed career. It beats my wits to
+guess how this marriage will turn out. He is madly in love. He has
+suffered frightfully. Too much moral anguish has a depraving effect in
+the long run."
+
+"I am not so sure of that."
+
+"I think so, at any rate. Now many a decent sort of fellow can get along
+well enough--if he has a woman to his taste and wine which he considers
+good. You observe I condense the situation as much as possible. But
+Orange is different."
+
+"Not so different--except in degree, or experience. At present, he
+oscillates between the woe of love and the joy of life. You compared him
+to St. Augustine. St. Augustine never pretended that earthly happiness
+was a delusion. He knew better. He said, 'Do not trust it, but seek the
+happiness which hath no end.' Personally, I can accept with gratitude as
+much as I can get. 'Is not the life of men upon earth all trial, without
+any interval?' This may be; yet it is something to learn how to
+sympathise with happiness. Our best men and women devote themselves too
+exclusively to the diagnosis of misery."
+
+"You have thought a lot, I can see," said Reckage.
+
+The artist gave him a quick, friendly glance.
+
+"I have played the fool," said he. "I envy Orange. He will know things
+that I can never know--now. I haven't lived up to my thoughts. I am not
+remorseful--I don't believe in remorse. It is a thing for the
+half-hearted. But if I am not sad, I am not especially gay. The middle
+course between sentimentality and gallantry seems to me intimately
+immoral and ridiculous into the bargain. So I am an idealist with
+senses. There are times when I hate life. And why? Because life is evil?
+By no means; but because we tell lies about it, and write lies about it,
+from morning till night."
+
+"You seem a bit depressed," said Lord Reckage. "But, by the by, how is
+the portrait going? My brother Hercy, who paints a little, always
+declared that Agnes was unpaintable. Do you find her unpaintable?"
+
+"No," said Rennes; "oh no!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+When Reckage asked Rennes whether he found Miss Carillon "unpaintable,"
+the artist was conscious of a swift, piercing emotion, which passed,
+indeed, but left an ache. And as the day advanced the smart of the wound
+grew more intense. A visit to the National Gallery, a call at his
+tailor's, an inspection of maps at his club, afforded little relief to
+the indefinable misery. He was tortured by the disingenuousness of his
+own mind. He had done so much, and thought so much, and read so much; he
+could give so many scientific reasons for each idea and each movement of
+his mental and physical being, that the joy of life had been cut up in
+its machinery. He had lost the power of being natural either in his
+pains or his pleasures. He knew all the answers, but not one of the
+questions which trouble youth. He had never wondered at anything.
+Wonder--the lovely mistress of wisdom--had taught him none of her
+secrets. Dead certainty had dogged his steps from his first appearance
+on this unknowable world. Once, when a very little boy, he admired a
+vase full of pink roses. "They will keep twice as long," said his
+nurse, "in dirty water. It is such a waste to put fresh water on roses!"
+This remark--slight in itself--remained in his memory as the first
+truth--the Logos, in fact--from which all other truths generated. He was
+now nine-and-thirty: he had executed an abnormal amount of work, and he
+had a just reputation as a portrait-painter. His technical skill was
+considered unique. The something lacking was that mysteriousness which
+belongs to all great art, and is, essentially, in life.
+
+"Rennes," said one of his friends, "can work for sixteen hours a day. It
+is all taken from without. He gives nothing except his undivided
+attention." The saying was not true; he gave himself absolutely--soul,
+brain, and heart--to his task, but the gift was too premeditated,
+too accurately weighed. There was no self-abandonment, nor
+self-forgetfulness. His admiration for Miss Carillon had been of this
+kind. Having added up her attractions, her figure, her face, her youth,
+her intelligence, her grace, he decided that she was exceptional in many
+ways. He found real happiness in her society--she was so sane, so clear,
+so unaffected. His attitude toward her had remained for some time one of
+fraternal affection, partly by force of will, chiefly because his
+relations with other women were not so restrained. But the position was
+changing. Certain forces in life were assuming for him a complicated and
+threatening aspect. What if, after all, there was an incalculable
+element in man?
+
+"Now to be practical," he said to himself. He had not seen his mother
+for a fortnight. She lived in Kensington Square. "I must really go and
+see my mother!" The cab drove quickly; the little grey house was soon
+reached. David opened the door with his latch-key and rushed upstairs
+into the small drawing-room, furnished in white and green, with fresh
+flowers on the mantelpiece, and many shelves of vellum-bound books. A
+bronze lamp hung from the ceiling, and its globe, covered in violet
+silk, cast a light like that of the early dawn in hilly regions. A faint
+odour of lavender filled the air. In one corner of the room there was a
+chess-table with its chessmen showing an interrupted game. A velvet
+footstool, much indented by the pressure of a firm foot, stood in front
+of the carved armchair in which Mrs. Rennes usually sat. Her
+work-basket, lined with blue satin and shining with steel fittings,
+stood in its customary place on a gipsy stool near the fireplace. A few
+old English prints hung on the walls, and between the windows there was
+a Chippendale cabinet filled with Worcester and Crown Derby china. The
+aspect of all things was restful, emotionless, and some of its calm
+seemed to overtake and soothe David's agitated spirit. He sat down at
+the piano and played, with much passion, bits from Wagner's "_Tristan_,"
+the first performance of which he had seen at Munich. "Good Heavens!" he
+thought. "What a genius! What a soul! What a phrase!" Suddenly the door
+opened and Agnes Carillon was ushered in. She hesitated a second, and
+then recognised Rennes, who had his back to the light. Her first
+instinct was to retreat; her first feeling was a strange sensation of
+pleasure and fear. His usually cold and wearied face took an expression
+of controlled but unmistakable delight. She blushed, though not with
+resentment, yet she avoided, by appearing to have some difficulty with
+her muff, his outstretched hand.
+
+"I have called on your mother," said she. "I thought you would be on
+your way to Rome."
+
+Her lips were red and rather full: her cheeks were pink, her throat and
+brows were white. Her demeanour was, while modest, neither shy nor
+self-conscious. David was struck by her height and the extreme
+slightness of her figure. She wore a large Gainsborough hat with long
+plumes, a black gown, and a collar of old _point de Venise_. She had
+come up from the country, and her presence brought its freshness.
+
+"Why are you in town?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"I was bored at home."
+
+"And the trousseau?"
+
+"The trousseau?" she said, lifting her eyes for the first time to his.
+
+"They say it is unlucky to try on your wedding-dress," he continued,
+seeking relief in the very torture of reminding himself that the date of
+her marriage with Lord Reckage was fixed.
+
+"I never think about luck," she answered.
+
+"I met Reckage at the play last night. I lunched with him to-day," said
+Rennes.
+
+"I am so glad that you are friends. I want you to like him."
+
+"No doubt he thinks me mad. Politicians always regard artists as
+madmen."
+
+"But Beauclerk is considered very cultured. I hate the word. He is
+interested in art."
+
+"No doubt--as a means of investment, an educational influence, or a
+topic of conversation for light moments."
+
+"You are severe. Yet I like to hear you talk."
+
+She hoped that his talk would drown the singing in her heart, the
+whispering in her ears, the footsteps of doubt--doubt of herself, doubt
+of Reckage, coming nearer and nearer. She had been taught everything.
+She had discovered nothing. Love itself had come to her in the shape of
+a cruel code of responsibilities. Lately she had been dwelling with an
+almost feverish emphasis on the question of duty. She had wearied
+Reckage; she had exhausted herself by the tenacity of her mind toward
+that dull subject. And the real truth about much in life was forcing
+itself upon her. She was essentially a woman of affairs. Her face
+absorbed the poetry of her nature, just as a flower extracts every
+excellence from its surrounding soil, and, shining out for the sun,
+wastes no blossom underground. It had been her earliest ambition to
+marry a Member of Parliament and help him--by her prayers and
+counsel--on his conscientious career toward Downing Street. She had
+received an austere education, and even her native generosity of heart
+could not soften the indignation she had been trained to feel against
+any neglect of duty. Duty was a term which she applied to that science
+of things generally expedient which tradition has presented to us in the
+household proverbs and maxims of every nation. Early rising, controlling
+one's temper, paying one's debts, consideration for others, working
+while it is day, taking stitches in time--all these to that orthodox
+mind were matters of imperative obligation, if not Divine command.
+David's impulsive nature and self-indulgent habits filled her with
+overwhelming sorrow and dismay. She could not understand the rapid
+changes of mood, the disordered views, the storm and violence which are
+characteristic of every artist whose work is a form of autobiography
+rather than a presentment of impersonal forms and effects.
+
+In Rennes there were two principles constantly at work: the David who
+acted, and the David who observed, criticised, and reproduced in
+allegorical guise, the inspiring performance. Agnes knew nothing of this
+common phenomenon in creative genius, and when her friend refreshed his
+imagination by appearing in a new _rôle_, she was as terrified as a
+child before some clever trick in experimental chemistry. From time to
+time he expressed opinions which startled her. She begged him once to
+paint a "religious" picture. He would not. A feeling that she had
+experienced some bitter disappointment weighed upon her spirit. Yet when
+she seemed to give that disappointment a cause, she was careful to leave
+it in obscurity. She would not permit herself to think, and, pale with
+suffering, she would check the painful questions which rose already
+answered. Her affection for Rennes was one of those serious passions
+which sometimes take root in an unsentimental nature, and derive a
+strength from philosophy which romantic considerations, pleasant as they
+are, can never bestow. Romance will add a magical delight to the
+pleasures of existence, but for the burden of the day one needs a
+sobriety of thought which would ring singularly flat in a love-lyric,
+which is certainly opposed to those emotions which produce what is
+commonly regarded as interesting behaviour. Agnes had not been drawn to
+Rennes at first sight, but rather by degrees and against her better
+judgment. She had found him unstable and affected; on the other hand,
+she admired his fine figure, his talent, his conversation, and the fire
+in his brilliant eyes. She told herself that she was deeply anxious
+about his soul, but, in a crowd, she watched for his broad shoulders and
+his handsome face. Such was her friendship, and she had known him for
+two years. Her first season had been a startling success. She had the
+misery of rejecting several suitors of whom her father fully
+approved--one was an Archdeacon. She had been drawn more than kindly
+toward a consumptive violinist whom she had met at a Saturday
+entertainment for the poor at Kensal Green. Not a single word of love
+ever passed between them. He called once or twice at her aunt's house in
+Chester Square, and they had played together some of Corelli's sonatas.
+Her aunt carried her away to Brighton, and no more was heard of the
+young violinist till a rumour reached them that he was drinking himself
+to death at St. Moritz. Agnes said many prayers for him. At last a
+second rumour reached her that the first was wholly incorrect. He had
+married a very nice girl with a lot of money and was building a villa at
+Cannes. Agnes told herself that she was thankful to hear it. The next
+year she became engaged to a young Member of Parliament with really fine
+prospects. She was not in love, but she liked him better than all her
+friends. She felt serene, and at last useful. Then a story reached her
+about another woman, and yet another woman before that one. The story
+was true and not at all pretty. The Bishop was obliged to support his
+daughter in her refusal to regard matters in what her betrothed
+described as a sane and reasonable manner. He had sinned and he was
+sorry, and what was more, he had every desire to reform. But Agnes
+remained firm, although she had probably never been so nearly in love
+with him as she was on the day when she returned all his charming
+letters and the ring and his photograph. It was a trying moment. She
+was ordered abroad, and she spent the winter at Rome, where she read
+ancient history and visited churches and excited a great deal of
+admiration. Mrs. Rennes and David were also at Rome. The three met at
+the house of an irreproachable Marchesa. They became friends. Miss
+Carillon's aunt, who was a maiden lady with means, succumbed to the
+fascinating eloquence of an amateur _connoisseur_ of antique gems. In
+her new character of _fiancée_, she found it inconvenient to chaperon a
+young niece. She joined a widowed friend, and gladly assented to the
+suggestion that dear Agnes should visit Mrs. Rennes in Paris. The Bishop
+saw no impediment to the plan. He had been at Oxford with the late
+Archibald Rennes, an odd fellow but high-minded. Mrs. Rennes was the
+daughter of a General Hughes-Drummond. Every one knew the
+Hughes-Drummonds. They were very good people indeed. The Bishop hoped
+that Agnes would enjoy herself, give her kind friend as little trouble
+as possible, and come home fully restored in spirits. He forgot David.
+It may be that others omitted to mention him. The Bishop was not pleased
+when the rumour reached him that this artist was included in the party.
+What were his habits? What were his prospects? Were his artistic talents
+such that he might reasonably hope to become a Royal Academician and
+maintain an establishment? What _class_ of pictures did he paint? Were
+they lofty in tone? Did they exalt and purify the mind? Would they make
+good engravings--such engravings as one might hang on one's walls? The
+correspondence and the questions were endless. David spent a week end at
+the Episcopal Palace, and behaved so well that he became frightened at
+his own capabilities for John Bullism. He was a little annoyed, too, to
+find himself at ease in a British home circle. The Bishop was, at all
+events, satisfied. Agnes was enchanted, and, transfigured by unconscious
+passion, looked more beautiful than ever. David enjoyed the services in
+the cathedral; he liked the quiet Sunday afternoon, he was impressed by
+Dr. Carillon's real earnestness in the pulpit. The visit was a great
+success. Before he left, he begged Agnes to write to him "when she could
+spare the time." The young man had tried everything except a Platonic
+friendship with a lovely girl. He fancied that he found in Agnes
+Carillon that purity coupled with magnetism which makes such experiments
+attractive. They corresponded regularly, but they did not meet again for
+several months. When he returned, a little tired of platonism,
+letter-writing, intellectuality, and longing a great deal for the sight
+of her face, he found her engaged to Lord Reckage. So nature revenges
+itself. He detected a certain triumph and also a certain deep reproach
+in her gaze. She insisted that she was more than happy, but something
+under these words seemed to murmur--"You have spoilt our lives." Her
+manner, nevertheless, never altered. She was invariably sympathetic,
+gracious, delicately emotional. In letters she signed herself, "Yours
+affectionately, Agnes Carillon."
+
+"How I should like to paint you in this light!" he said, all at once.
+"That is the dress I love best. Don't wear it often." The remark was
+slight enough as a pretty speech within the bounds of flirtation, but
+the tone in which he uttered it meant more, and the girl's womanly
+instinct told her that the dangerous limit in their "friendship" had
+been reached. He saw her turn pale. She looked away from him, and
+swallowed thoughts which were far more bitter than any words she could
+have spoken.
+
+"You never used to say these things," she exclaimed at last; "why do you
+say them now?"
+
+"I thought them--always," he answered. "But I am a Pagan. I tried to
+keep my Paganism for others, and what you would call 'the best in me'
+for you. You may be able to understand. Anyhow, I made a mistake--a
+terrible mistake. It was a false position, and I couldn't maintain it.
+Now I don't even want to maintain it. Then it was a kind of vanity. I
+mean that time when I was at the Palace. I had been reading a lot of
+beautiful unreal stuff about the soul. I thought I had reached a very
+high place. Of course I had--because nothing is higher or purer than
+real human love. But I wouldn't call it love. So I went abroad, and
+wrote any amount of 'literature' to you. And all the time Reckage was
+here--asking you, wisely enough, to marry him. And you, wisely enough,
+accepted him."
+
+Agnes sat still, with her eyes down, cold, silent, forbidding. She did
+not understand him. She had neither the knowledge of life, nor the
+imagination, which could make such understanding possible. But she saw
+in his look that he loved her, that he was unhappy. She knew that
+Reckage had never shown so much feeling. Yet had she not given her word
+to Reckage? Was it not irrevocable? Was Rennes behaving well in speaking
+out--too late? Was it too late? A torrent of questions poured into her
+mind. She dragged off her gloves, and spread out her hands, which were
+slim and white, and stared at her sapphire engagement ring.
+
+"A weak man submits to destiny," said Rennes, "a strong one makes his
+own. It is what we think of ourselves which determines our fate. If I
+regard myself as a poor creature, I shall, no doubt, act the part of a
+poor creature. But," he added, with an ironical smile, "it is never too
+late to give up one's prejudices. I can't stand by and look on any
+longer. I intend to leave England for some years. I hope we may never
+meet again. Don't answer me, because there is nothing for you to say.
+You have been perfectly kind, perfectly charming, perfectly consistent.
+You have never deceived me and you have never deceived yourself."
+
+She interrupted him:
+
+"I hope not. Oh, I hope I have never deceived myself--or you."
+
+"I was grateful for your friendship," he said. "I can't be grateful for
+it now."
+
+Agnes drew a long breath and murmured random words about the "time." Was
+it getting late?
+
+"Yes," replied Rennes, "too late. Did I ever tell you why my father,
+with all his prospects, became a drawing-master? He told me that he had
+suffered so much learning why he could never paint, nor hope to paint,
+that he was determined to devote his knowledge to the service of
+apprentices. It seemed to him such an awful thing to mistake one's
+vocation. Now I feel that one of us--perhaps both of us, you and I, are
+doing even a worse thing. We are deliberately throwing happiness to the
+dogs."
+
+"I don't think so," said Agnes, in a trembling voice. "There is duty,
+you know; that is something higher than happiness, I believe."
+
+"Are you so sure?"
+
+"Oh, yes!"
+
+"I envy you. I don't even know what you mean by duty. It seems to me
+another name for the tyranny of false sentiment."
+
+"Don't disturb my ideas," she exclaimed, with an appealing gesture.
+"Don't say these things. They make me wretched. I can't afford to doubt
+and question. One must have a few permanent rules of conduct."
+
+"But if they are fantastic, capricious, insincere?"
+
+"I can't argue. I am not clever. I will not change my views. I dare not.
+It would make me hate you."
+
+"You are the slave of convention."
+
+"That may be. That is safer, after all, than being the slave of some
+other will stronger than my own. Why do you try to disturb my
+life--now--after so many really happy months of friendship?"
+
+"Were they so happy? Agnes, were they happy?"
+
+She hesitated.
+
+"Yes," she said, at last; "relatively, yes."
+
+"It is quite true. Good women drive us to the bad ones."
+
+"Oh! what can you mean? Surely we are saying too much. We shall reproach
+ourselves later. I live, again and again, through one conversation. The
+phrases come into my mind with every possible shade of significance."
+
+She pushed back her hat, and pressed her hand to her brow, which was
+contracting nervously as she spoke.
+
+"I don't wish to be altered by any change in principle," she continued,
+"nor distracted, from my plain obligations, into other interests. I
+daresay I sound quite heartless and odd. I daresay you won't like me any
+more." Her voice faltered, but her lips remained precise. "But one must
+know one's mind--one _must_. You don't know yours; that is the whole
+trouble, David."
+
+She had never called him by his Christian name before, and now the
+forced sternness of her tone gave it almost the accent of a farewell.
+
+"Perhaps we have helped each other," she went on; "at all events, you
+have taught me how to look at things. You are clever and original and
+all that. I am rather commonplace, and I never have new or surprising
+thoughts. The more I learn, the more I grow attached to the ordinary
+ways. Once you called me the ideal _bourgeoise_. You were right."
+
+"Not entirely," said Rennes. "You think too much."
+
+"You taught me that. I never used to consider people or notions. I
+accepted them without criticism."
+
+"The madness of criticism has entered into you," he said. "It is the
+worst, most destructive thing on earth."
+
+"How could I have accepted you--as my friend--without it?" she asked.
+"You puzzled me. I tried to understand you. No one had ever puzzled me
+before. No one, you may be quite sure, will ever puzzle me, in the same
+degree, again."
+
+She gave him a long, tearful glance, in which defiance, reproach,
+determination, and a certain cruelty shone like iron under water. He
+made a movement toward her. The strength of his more emotional nature
+might have made a final assault--not uselessly--on her assumed
+"reasonableness." No appeal, no threat could have moved her from the
+mental attitude she had decided on--the duty of keeping her word to Lord
+Reckage. But she might have been urged to the more candid course of
+ascertaining how far his lordship's true happiness was really involved
+in the question. At that moment, however, Mrs. Rennes came into the
+room. She gave a little cry of surprise when she saw her son. Then she
+kissed Agnes, and sat down, looking anxiously from one to the other with
+something not unlike grief, not unlike jealousy.
+
+Her life and habits of thought were simple, but she had been highly
+educated. She was an accomplished linguist, a good musician, a most
+intelligent companion. Things which she could not comprehend she would,
+at least, accept on faith. There had never been the shadow of a quarrel
+between David and herself. But she felt, by intuition, that Agnes
+Carillon had, in some way, affected his life, his work, his whole
+nature. She could not blame her, because she knew nothing definite about
+the understanding which existed, plainly enough, between her son and
+this young lady. She had a horror, however, of flirtation and flirts. It
+seemed to her that, under all this talk and correspondence on art,
+poetry, scenery, and the like, there was a strong under-current of
+emotion. So she smiled upon Agnes with a certain reserve, as though she
+were not quite sure whether she had any great reason to feel delighted
+at her call. At a glance from David, however, her look softened into
+real friendliness.
+
+"I was so surprised to see Mr. Rennes here," said Agnes.
+
+"I am surprised, too," said the older woman.
+
+A restraint fell upon all three. David walked about the room, looking
+for things he did not want, and asking questions he did not wish
+answered, although he hoped they would interest his mother. But his
+spirits soon flagged. The conversation became trivial and absurd.
+
+"Where are you staying?" asked Mrs. Rennes.
+
+"I am with Pensée Fitz Rewes," said Agnes; "she has gone in the carriage
+to do a little shopping. She will send it here for me."
+
+The carriage was at that instant announced. David went down the stairs
+with Agnes and handed her in. He said nothing. Mrs. Rennes watched the
+pair from the window and nodded her farewell with much gravity. When
+David returned to her, he found her reading peacefully Trollope's last
+novel. It was for these graces that he loved her most. He scribbled
+letters at her writing-table for the next hour. Then he spoke--
+
+"I am going," said he, "to the East. I need a change. I suppose it will
+mean six months."
+
+"But how you will enjoy it!"
+
+"And what will you do?"
+
+"I live from day to day, my dear. I am quite contented."
+
+"This journey is not a mere caprice. I have been contemplating it for
+some time," he said.
+
+Mrs. Rennes' hair was white and her long, equine countenance, sallow.
+When her feelings were stirred, she showed it only by a cloudy pallor
+which would steal over her face as a kind of veil--separating her from
+the rest of mortals.
+
+"One has to get away from England," continued Rennes: "one has to get
+away from one's self."
+
+"And where is your self now?" she asked, not venturing to look at him.
+
+"With that girl," he answered, suddenly; "with that girl."
+
+"Do you love her?"
+
+"I don't know. I suppose I do. Oh! I would love her if I could ever be
+absolutely sincere. But this I do know--I can't see her married to that
+fellow Reckage. So I must go away."
+
+"I am afraid she is a coquette--a serious coquette, my dear boy."
+
+"She is nothing of the kind. She is a true woman. Don't talk about
+her."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+Sara had spent the morning crying bitterly, in bed. Her letter to the
+Duke of Marshire was on the table by her side. From time to time she had
+taken it up, turned it over, shed fresh tears, and reproached herself
+for indecision. She held at bay every thought of Robert Orange, and
+formed the resolve of banishing him from her mind for ever. When the
+time came to dress for luncheon, she brightened a little, for the
+prospect of disguising her true feelings in the presence of Lord Reckage
+and Pensée appealed to that genius for mischief which animated the whole
+current of her life. _To baffle the looker-on_ seemed not merely a great
+science, but the one game of wits which could never lose its interest.
+She was not insincere. She thought that lies, as a rule, were clumsy
+shifts, and abominable. Even in the moments when she was most thoroughly
+conscious of her talent for misleading others, she had never brought
+herself to think well of deception. She would have liked to feel that
+her heart was an open book for her friends to read. It would have been
+pleasant, she believed, if all could have known always that she
+practised a delicate art and played, consummately, fine comedy whenever
+she found spectators. But a solitary, mismanaged childhood, and the
+constant sense of being in many ways a foreigner, had taught her the
+penalty of frankness where sympathy could not supply, from its own
+knowledge, the unutterable half which makes up every confidence. The
+bitter pleasures of a conscience which caresses its worst burden were
+the only real ones of her daily existence. When she could say, at the
+end of the day, "I have fooled them all: they think I am happy, I am
+not: they think Reckage amuses me, he doesn't. They think I delight in
+these dull dinners and balls, I hate them," a sort of exultation--the
+pride of a spirit singing under torture--would fill her whole being. All
+youth that is strong and thoughtful has much of this instinct of
+dissimulation. The world--to a young mind--appears controlled by
+elderly, suspicious, hateful custodians ever on the alert to capture, or
+thwart, every high enterprise and every passionate desire. There seems a
+vast conspiracy against happiness--the withered, dreary wiseacres in
+opposition to the joy, the daring, the beauty, the reckless vitality of
+souls still under the spell of spring. When poor Sara could escape from
+town into the country, mount her horse, and tear through a storm, the
+neighbours compared her to a witch on a broomstick, and, shaking their
+heads, would foresee much sipping of sorrow by the spoonful in the
+future of Lord Garrow. To-day, however, the young lady assumed her most
+demure expression, and received the guests at luncheon as though she had
+never learnt the meaning of tears nor joined the gale in spirit.
+
+Sir Piers Harding was the last to arrive. He was a thick-set, livid man
+with an unyielding smile and the yellow eyes of one whom rich diet
+rather than an angry god had rendered melancholy.
+
+"You haven't changed in the least," he said, considering Lord Garrow
+with some resentment.
+
+"Ah, well!" replied his lordship, "eleven years do not make much
+difference at my time of life. You, however, are decidedly greyer. Where
+have you been hiding yourself? I think you were foolish to leave
+England. Gladstone was remarking but the other day, 'Harding was always
+so cocksure.' 'And wasn't he right?' said I. 'Of course,' said he; 'and
+that was the worst of him. He _was_ right. Who could stand it?' That's
+the world. It's devilish unappreciative of the truth."
+
+Reckage, much bored by the old men, stood by Pensée's chair, where he
+could watch Sara and angle for her glance. When it happened that she
+smiled at him a little--either in mere friendship or mockery--he felt a
+kind of fire steal through his veins, and he told himself that she was a
+dangerous woman--a woman who could get her own way in the long run. That
+she was a girl--and, with all her shortcomings, a very innocent
+one--made her odd powers of fascination but the more insidious. She
+wore a dress of wine-coloured silk which fitted plainly over her breast
+and shoulders and fell in graceful flounces from the waist. The warm,
+olive lines of her cheek and throat appeared the darker in contrast with
+a twist of white lace which she wore round her neck; and her black hair,
+dressed higher than usual, was held in place by a large ruby comb which
+caught the fire-light as she moved. Reckage was conscious, for the first
+time in his life, of a real embarrassment. He could not talk to her; he
+felt tongue-tied when she addressed him. Ill at ease, yet not unhappy,
+he struggled to maintain some coherence in his conversation; but, at
+each moment, his own ideas grew less certain and Sara's voice more
+enchanting. It seemed to convey the lulling powers of an anodyne. When
+he tried to rouse himself, the effort was as painful as the attempt to
+wake from a dream within a dream.
+
+"You were at the wedding this morning?" she asked lightly.
+
+"No.... What a fool I am! Yes, of course. You mean Robert's wedding?"
+
+She gave a little smile, and murmured, dropping her voice, "I meant
+Robert's wedding."
+
+Luncheon was then announced: the sliding doors which separated the
+dining-room from Lord Garrow's library were rolled back. They all walked
+in--Pensée and Sara leading the way.
+
+"A sweet creature!" whispered his lordship behind their backs,
+indicating Lady Fitz Rewes. He sighed as he spoke. He could never feel
+that there was not something deplorable in Sara's physical brilliancy.
+Her upper-lip that day had a certain curl which he had learnt to regard
+as a danger-signal. What would she do next? As he sat down at the table
+and observed the sweep of her eyelashes toward Reckage, a presentiment
+of trouble clouded the new hopes he had formed for her career.
+
+"Who are your strong men now?" asked Harding suddenly, after a moment's
+contemplation of Reckage, who sat opposite.
+
+"Our strong men?" faltered Lord Garrow.
+
+"Aren't most of 'em place-hunters and self-seekers?"
+
+"You must meet Robert Orange," said Pensée; "Mr. Disraeli believes in
+Robert Orange."
+
+"I never heard of him," observed Sir Piers. "Who is he?"
+
+"You may well ask," said Lord Garrow. "He claims to be a de Hausée--on
+his father's side. Reckage can tell you about him. Many have a high
+opinion of the fellow, and say that if he will stick to one branch of
+politics, he may become useful. Personally, I don't call him a man of
+the world."
+
+"Not of our world, perhaps, papa. But there are so many other worlds!"
+
+"Sara likes him. A lot of women like him," said his lordship. He was
+annoyed at her interruption and took his revenge by a feminine thrust.
+"The hero," said he, "married some mysterious person this very morning.
+We may not hear so much about him in the future!"
+
+"Dear Lord Garrow," said Pensée, "his wife is a friend of mine--she is
+the most charming person."
+
+Sara put out her hand and touched Reckage on the arm.
+
+"Do you think," she asked, "that the wife will be an obstacle in his
+way?"
+
+"Who can tell? Of course she has means, and he likes to do everything
+well."
+
+"Speaking for myself," said Harding, "I have always held that a man's
+career rests rather on his genius than his marriage."
+
+"But you, my dear fellow," put in Lord Garrow, testily, "you retired
+from political life because your theories could find no illustration
+there."
+
+"Pardon me," said Sir Piers, with a grim laugh. "I retired because I had
+a faultless wife but unfortunately no genius. I shall therefore watch
+your friend's triumph or failure--for his position would seem to be
+precisely the reverse of my own--with peculiar sympathy."
+
+"Ah! I fear you are rather heartless," exclaimed Sara. "For a man to
+have gone so far as Orange, and to know that perhaps--I say, perhaps--he
+can hope no higher because he made a fool of himself about a woman!"
+
+"You speak as though it were a romantic marriage--a question of love."
+
+"Of course," said the young lady softly. "It is a great passion."
+
+"Well, after all," observed Harding, who was not insensible himself to
+Sara's delightfulness, "the British public is absurdly fond of a
+love-match. They adore a sentimental Prime Minister. They want to see
+him either marrying for love, or jilted in his youth for a richer man.
+These things enlist the popular sympathy. What made Henry Fox? His
+elopement with Lady Caroline Lennox."
+
+"To be sure," said Reckage--"to be sure. That's a point."
+
+"It is a compliment to the sex," continued Harding, "when a great man is
+taken captive by a pretty face. Men, too, rally round a Lochinvar. Such
+an evidence of heart--or folly, if you prefer to call it so--is also
+an evidence of disinterestedness. So, on the whole, I cannot follow your
+objections to the new Mrs. Orange."
+
+"You have been away so long," said Garrow fussily, "that you have
+forgotten our prejudices. Orange himself, to begin with, has something
+mysterious in his origin. They say he is French--related to the old
+French aristocracy; but the less one says in England about foreign
+pedigrees the better. All that of itself is against him, and Mrs.
+Orange, it seems, is more or less French, or Austrian, too. We can't
+help regarding them as foreigners, and I always distrust foreigners in
+politics. Why should they care for England? I ask myself."
+
+"Why, indeed?" said Harding, with irony.
+
+"Have I made myself clearer?" asked Garrow. "I can afford to speak. My
+own wife was a Russian. But I was not in political life, and she was an
+Ambassador's daughter."
+
+"You think you would feel more sure of Orange's patriotic instinct if he
+had chosen an Englishwoman?" said Reckage.
+
+"I am bound to say that he would have shown discretion in settling down
+with one of our simple-hearted Saxon girls."
+
+"And who was Mrs. Orange before she married Orange?" asked Harding.
+
+"A widow--a Mrs. Parflete," said Garrow.
+
+"Parflete!" exclaimed Harding. "Mrs. Parflete! But I have met her. She
+married Wrexham Parflete, an extraordinary creature. He lived for years
+with the Archduke Charles of Alberia. People used to say that Mrs.
+Parflete was the Archduke's daughter. I ran across Parflete the other
+day in Sicily."
+
+"But he is dead," said Pensée, much agitated; "he drowned himself."
+
+"I cannot help that," repeated Sir Piers. "I met him last week, and he
+beat me at écarté."
+
+"Then it is not the same man," said Reckage, "quite obviously."
+
+"Wrexham Parflete had a wife; I heard her sing at a dinner-party in
+Madrid. She was living with the Countess Des Escas; there was a row and
+a duel on her account. I never forget names or faces."
+
+"But this looks serious," said Reckage. "Do you quite understand? It's
+the sort of thing one hardly dares to think. That is to say if you mean
+what I mean. The marriage can't be legal."
+
+The two women turned pale and looked away from each other.
+
+"I mean as much or as little as you like," said Harding. "But Parflete
+was alive last Monday."
+
+"But bigamy is so vulgar," observed Lord Garrow. "You must be mistaken.
+It is too dreadful!"
+
+"Dreadful, indeed! And a great piece of folly into the bargain. It is
+selling the bear's skin before you have killed the bear."
+
+Lady Fitz Rewes glanced piteously at the three men and wrung her hands.
+
+"Don't you see," she exclaimed, "don't you see that if there is the
+least doubt of Mr. Parflete's death, we ought to go to them. Some one
+must follow them."
+
+"There is that touch of the absurd about it," said Reckage, "which makes
+it difficult for a friend to come forward. To pursue a man on his
+wedding journey----"
+
+"It is no laughing matter," put in Lord Garrow; "and if the woman has
+deceived the poor fellow, it's a monstrous crime."
+
+"Oh, she hasn't; she couldn't deceive him," said Pensée. "I know her
+intimately."
+
+"She was considered very clever--at Madrid," said Sir Piers, finely. "To
+you she may appear more to be pitied than she really is."
+
+"Don't say such things! I won't hear them. I love her very much."
+
+"Perhaps she is clever enough to appear stupid in public."
+
+"No, no!" Her voice trembled and tears gushed from her eyes. "You will
+regret these words. This news will kill her."
+
+"Something must be done," said Sara. "Beauclerk, you ought to follow
+them and tell them. Pensée is right."
+
+"This will make a horrid scandal," said Lord Garrow, who was appalled at
+the prospect of being mixed up in so disagreeable an affair. "Why not
+leave it alone? It is not our business."
+
+"But it is Beauclerk's business, papa. Just put yourself in his place.
+Surely that is not asking too much."
+
+"We must avoid everything precipitate," said Reckage; "we mustn't be
+over-hasty."
+
+Lady Fitz Rewes wiped her eyes, rose from the table, and began to draw
+on her gloves.
+
+"But we must be friends," she said; "if you cannot go to them, I will.
+Do you realise the poor child's position? An illegal marriage! She is
+the most gentle, beautiful person I ever saw, with the best head, the
+purest heart. She professes _nothing_. I judge her by her actions."
+
+"But you must see," said Reckage, "that I can't give Orange all this
+pain unless I have something more definite to go on. Sir Piers tells us
+that he played cards with Wrexham Parflete last week." He paused.
+
+"Wait a moment," said Harding; "wait a moment. Does any one present know
+Parflete's handwriting?"
+
+"I do," said Pensée. "I saw his last letter to his wife. He wrote it
+before he committed suicide."
+
+Sir Piers took out his pocket-book, and, from the several papers it
+contained, selected a three-cornered note.
+
+"By the merest chance," said he, "I have this with me."
+
+The others unconsciously left their seats and looked over his shoulder
+while he smoothed out the sheet. It was dated plainly, "October 7,
+1869," and contained the acknowledgment of two £10 notes won at écarté.
+
+"That is the hand," said Pensée. "One could not mistake it."
+
+"Then this is really very serious," said Lord Reckage, with twitching
+lips. "The whole story has had all along something of unreality about
+it. Robert seems fated to a renunciant career--colourless,
+self-annihilating."
+
+"What will you do?" murmured Pensée, with an imploring gesture. "What
+will you do?"
+
+"They leave Southampton at three o'clock," said Reckage; "it is now
+half-past two. The steamer goes twice a week only. I can send him a
+telegram and follow them overland--by way of Calais."
+
+"Then I must go also," said Pensée firmly. "She will need me. I have had
+a presentiment of trouble so long that now I feel 'Here it is come at
+last.' I cannot be too thankful to God that it isn't worse."
+
+Nothing showed under the innavigable depths of Sara's eyes. She had
+moved to the fireplace and stood there holding one small foot to the
+blaze.
+
+"Are you cold?" asked her father anxiously.
+
+"I am ice," she said, "ice!"
+
+Reckage joined her and said, under his voice, "You think I ought to go,
+don't you?"
+
+This question--given in a half-whisper--seemed to establish a fresh
+intimacy between them. It was the renewal of their old friendship on
+deeper terms.
+
+"Yes, you must go," she answered; "and, Beauclerk, write to me and tell
+me how he bears it."
+
+"He is accustomed to a repressive discipline on these matters. The
+philosophic mind, you know, is never quite in health. Probably, he won't
+show much feeling."
+
+His gaze seemed to burn into her face. It was as though she had been
+walking in an arbour and suddenly, through some rift in the boughs,
+found herself exposed to the scorching sun. She felt dominated by a
+force stronger than her own nature. A little afraid, she shrank
+instinctively away from him, and as she dared not look up, she did not
+see the expression of triumph, mingled with other things, which, for a
+moment, lit up Lord Reckage's ordinarily inscrutable countenance.
+Lately, he had been somewhat depressed by his encounter with refractory
+wills. His horse, his colleagues on the Bond of Association, his future
+bride, had showed themselves fatiguing, perhaps worthless, certainly
+disheartening and independent accessories to his life. Here, at last,
+was some one brilliant, stimulating, by no means self-seeking, Quixotic
+in enthusiasms.
+
+"Sara," he said, obeying an impulse which surprised himself, "do you
+believe in me?"
+
+This time she gave him a straight glance.
+
+"Yes," she answered. "You might do a great deal if you could forget
+yourself for a few months."
+
+Pensée, much troubled and full of thoughts, walked over to them.
+
+"Oh, Sara!" she said, "isn't it terrible? If you could have seen them
+both this morning--she looked so beautiful, perfectly lovely--a sight I
+never can forget. And now this blow! What man can teach men to
+understand the will of God?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+Robert and Brigit were silent with happiness on their way to
+Southampton. Side by side they watched the country through the carriage
+windows. There had been a fog in London when they left, and the sun, at
+intervals, shone out like a live coal among dying embers. All was
+obscured; the foot-passengers and passing vehicles seemed black straying
+shadows in the atmosphere. But the express emerged at last from the
+clinging darkness into autumnal fields, some brown after the harvest,
+others studded with hay-ricks. At one point in the landscape they
+noticed a flock of sheep drinking at a stream. The boy who guarded them
+waved his cap at the train, and this little signal, coming, as it were,
+from human nature, gave them a reassurance of the day's reality. Near
+Bishopstoke the clouds were white and dense, but, rippling in places,
+they disclosed blue stretches of the heaven which, in their masses, they
+concealed. Southampton began with small houses. One had a tattered
+garden, where a stone copy of the Medicean Venus stood on a patch of
+squalid turf near a clothes' line and against an ivy-grown wall. Then
+the green sands were reached. The sea, like liquid granite, sparkled in
+the distance. Rows of dull dwellings, shops, public-houses, and hotels
+came next. The train, with a shriek, rushed into the station. It was
+still too early for lunch, so they walked down to the pier, where they
+saw several yachts and pleasure-boats at anchor in the harbour, and the
+New Forest greenly outlined in the distance. These were the things which
+engraved themselves on Brigit's mind. The impressibility of youth is
+retentive for outward objects, but the inner mood--the sensation and
+idea which make the mental state--lives unconsciously, and is recognised
+only in the long process of time. Brigit could have described the scene,
+but her emotions did not seem to her, emotions. Absorbed by them, and in
+them, she neither abandoned herself to the hour nor asked herself what
+the hour held. She and the hour were one--a single note; and the joy she
+felt at being with Robert, leaning on his arm and hearing his voice, was
+so simple that, even if a psychologist of the deepest experience had
+been able to probe into the workings of her mind, he would have found
+nothing there to analyse. Hers was a child's affection--the first love
+of a heart still immature, and not yet made suspicious of itself by
+contact with others less innocent. Parflete had been too worldly-wise
+not to guard and value--at its true price--a disposition so graceful in
+its very essence. She had a knowledge of affairs beyond her years, yet
+her own instincts, her education, her few friendships, had kept her
+curiously ignorant of evil, of much also that is neither good nor evil,
+but merely human. The sombre sentimentality which lurks in most young
+girls of seventeen was not in her character at all, and in its stead she
+possessed the gaiety and carelessness of feeling which belongs to
+imaginative rather than to sensuous natures. A boy-like spirit showed
+itself in all her words, movements, moods; her womanhood still slept,
+and thus, while her intelligence made her an unusual companion and her
+beauty presented a constant appeal to all that is romantic, it was
+inevitable that melancholy and reserve should enter largely into the
+passionate love which Robert felt for her. He told himself that he would
+not have her different. The glance of her eyes, which stirred him
+strangely to the very depths of his being, never varied in its sweetness
+nor its calm. When her lightest touch could sway his body and spirit,
+she, unconscious of her power, would press his hand against her cheek
+and talk about the geraniums in the convent garden or the chances of the
+Carlist war. It was all wonderful. It had seemed perfect. And yet--and
+yet. She was not cold, but was she unearthly? Was she, perhaps, some
+straying angel--some fervid, bright spirit, flame-coloured and
+intangible, a being of the elfin race? As they stood together looking at
+the distant coastline a depression which he could neither fathom nor
+control came over him. His bride seemed so much younger than he had
+ever realised. She cared for him--how could he doubt it? But was the
+indefinable, indispensable feeling absent?
+
+"Do you remember our journey from Catesby?" she asked suddenly. "I
+slept. Wasn't I dull? Did you mind?"
+
+No one could see them. He stooped and kissed her fragrant, animated
+face. "I wish," said he, "I wish that you were not quite such a child."
+
+The feeling of solitariness weighed upon his soul with a crushing weight
+unknown until that day--the day of days, his wedding day. Heretofore he
+had craved for solitude because it had been full of her imagined
+companionship. Now that she actually lived and talked by his side, the
+fancied image of her paled, vanished. The real creature was adorable,
+but, for some reason, maddening, and not, at all events, the being of
+his fancy. Their old relations--ethereal and exquisite, no doubt--now
+seemed an empty mockery, self-deluding foolishness. He coloured at the
+remembrance of all that Disraeli had hinted, and Reckage had brutally
+declared, on the large topic of idealism in passion. A man, in spite of
+all determinations to be uncomplaining, knows the How much and How
+little that he may demand, merely as a man, from any given advantage or
+disadvantage in existence. Robert, hating himself, condemning himself,
+was conscious, in spite of himself, that Brigit's affection for him was
+not love in the full human sense of the word. He had exchanged an
+ordinary self-restraint for an impossibly false position. She could
+inspire his life, but could she enter into it, be it, live it with him
+daily? Would there not have to be great reservations, half statements,
+and, worst of all, a subtle kind of hypocrisy? He reproached himself for
+selfishness, yet the fear came and it remained. He had captured the
+rainbow and married the goddess. Were there not many legends
+illustrating this folly?--stories of men who had married divinities and
+perished, not because the divinities were at fault, but because mortals
+must wed with mortals. The sight of his wife's beauty caused a sudden,
+violent irritation. He wished she had none, for then, perhaps, he
+thought he would have been satisfied, more than content, in the placid
+consideration of her charms of character. He found himself reduced to
+the absurd predicament of deciding to banish her from his thoughts--a
+last sophism which showed him, all too clearly, how wretched he was.
+Their silence, which had been due in the first instance to the
+sufficient delight of being in each other's company, became that long
+pause which arises from an unutterable embarrassment. Brigit felt by
+instinct some change in Robert's mood, but as she could not account for
+it then, her sympathy failed. The keen salt air filled her with its own
+free buoyancy; her delicate skin flushed in the wind; she forgot the
+nervous strain of the morning, the awfulness of the grey chapel, the new
+state of things, griefs that were past, responsibilities that were to
+come. She turned to Orange as a child would turn to its inseparable
+comrade, and clapped her hands with amusement at an organ-grinder with a
+monkey and a dog whom she noticed sitting at the end of the pier,
+waiting, apparently, for one of the excursion steamers bound for the
+Isle of Wight.
+
+"Pennies for the monkey, Robert," she cried; "a lot of pennies! And then
+we must have our lunch. May I have some chicken and one of those very
+droll, very stupid, English rice puddings? Please let me have one....
+And may I kiss the dog? It is a nice little dog--quite as nice as
+Pensée's Fidelio. Now I am going to talk to the monkey."
+
+She ran toward the little animal, who was shivering, pathetic and
+grotesque, in a military cap and red petticoat trimmed with yellow
+braid. The dog, which was a young pug with excellent points, gave
+Brigit, after many entreaties, his paw. She addressed the monkey in
+Italian, and laughed till she cried at its absurdities. Robert looked
+on, consumed by a sensation which he recognised, with much shame, as
+jealousy. He thought the pug dull and the monkey revolting. Yet she
+kissed one, and showered heavenly smiles on both.
+
+"I did not know that you were so fond of animals," he said, as they
+walked to the hotel for lunch.
+
+"I am not," she answered frankly, "as a rule. But when I am with you I
+feel so happy that I want to kiss everything--the ground, and the
+trees, and chairs, and poodle dogs, and the whole world!"
+
+"Then why not--me?"
+
+She looked at him, blushed a little, and waited some moments before she
+replied.
+
+"I don't know," she said at last. "It must be because I am not in the
+habit of doing so. I am not accustomed to you yet. I keep thinking 'I
+shall wake up in a minute and he will be miles away.' Can't you
+understand? So I am pretending to myself all the time that you are not
+really here."
+
+"I see."
+
+"No, dearest, you don't quite understand; and you are a little
+disappointed in me because I seem--I must seem--rather flippant. I
+daren't be serious--I daren't. I daren't believe that I am your wife."
+
+"But why not?"
+
+She shook her head, and her whole face became clouded by the old,
+terrible, unnatural sadness which he knew so much better than her
+laughter.
+
+"I am not used to joy," she said. "Perhaps, if we ever get to Heaven,
+our first impulse will be to run back again to Purgatory, where we are
+more at home!"
+
+"You have too much wit, darling, to be happy anywhere!"
+
+"No! no! I don't ask to be conventionally happy, but I want you always.
+That is all ... you, always, on any terms--on a rag-heap, in a storm,
+with jackals howling at us!"
+
+"What a picture!"
+
+"My idea of unalloyed bliss, or, at least, the only one I have ever
+permitted myself. I can even believe that might be realised." A smile
+hovered again about her lips, but she looked steadily ahead, as though
+she were still resolved not to reassure herself, by any too-frequent
+glances, of his much-loved presence.
+
+The peculiar tenderness of her voice was in itself a charm against
+ill-humour. A rush of bitter self-reproach told Robert that his
+dissatisfaction had been the inevitable result of too many blessings on
+a base nature. He tried to speak; he watched instead, with a desperate,
+eager gaze, the play of her expressive features.
+
+"I wonder," she said, "what our life is to be? Not that I wish to pry
+into the future, but, for some reason, I can never feel settled. Every
+morning is a surprise. I think, too, about your character ... your
+career. Have I helped you, or have I been a hindrance? I am perverse,
+capricious--not an angel. No human influence can help me very much. I
+must depend on the discipline of God. Oh, if I could know all that He
+wants me to do!"
+
+"Most of us have that desire, Brigit. At least it is better to be
+damned, in the world's opinion, trying to do the will of God than
+saved--doing nothing! One has to take a good many chances--even the
+chance of displeasing Him--if it comes to a crisis."
+
+"Many people would call that reckless."
+
+"Let them call it anything," said the young man; "names do not matter.
+The ghastly, unspeakable dread is to be timorous, halting, the creature
+of indecision."
+
+"We are too much alike," she sighed. "Oh, Robert, if we did not suffer
+horribly within ourselves when we do wrong, I believe we should both
+defy every law in the world! I am a born rebel."
+
+More than a note of her mother's insolence was in the speech, but the
+whole spirit of the dead actress seemed to possess Brigit for that
+moment. Her being rippled, as it were, with the new disturbance, just as
+a pond will tremble to its edges at the mere dip of a swallow's wing.
+The artistic hatred of all restraint and the wild desire of liberty were
+the imperious passions of her heart--more vehement than any other
+feeling--even her love for Orange.
+
+"I could fight," she said, "a visible devil, but this struggle with
+moods and tastes is deadening."
+
+"What are the moods and tastes?" he asked.
+
+"I cannot describe them well. But music calls me; I hear it trilling,
+and sobbing, and whispering everywhere; and sometimes it is so loud and
+so beautiful that I wonder why every one else doesn't stop to listen.
+They never do. So I sing back my answer. It is silent singing. You would
+only wonder why I was so quiet all at once."
+
+"But I have heard you sing."
+
+"Not with my real voice, Robert. It is stronger than it used to be."
+She checked herself and hesitated, stopped by a sudden scruple--a sort
+of delicacy. She thought nothing at all of her beauty and never of her
+fortune; but in giving Robert her voice, and the nameless ambitions
+which enveloped it, she was conscious that she had made, in some way, a
+renunciation.
+
+"Say what you were going to say, dearest?"
+
+"I cannot forget," she exclaimed desperately, "that mama was an actress.
+And I remember some of the nights at the theatre.... I liked the
+theatre.... I believe I could act.... I have learned the whole of
+_Phédre_ and the whole of _Juliet_. That is why I live."
+
+This avowal of her secret over-ruling instinct set free the sanguine
+strength which circumstances had imprisoned, but could not destroy, in
+her character. The constant effort of hiding from all observation the
+irrepressible yearnings of a talent that would not be denied, had given
+her that quality of mysteriousness, of dreamy habits of thought, of
+languor, which, even to Robert, had looked as though she might find this
+earth too rough to live on. But the despair which comes from fighting,
+unsuccessfully, the world, is not that appearance of weakness which is
+the result of fighting--more or less effectively--one's own energy. In
+this latter issue the beaten foe joins forces obediently enough with the
+conqueror, till at last the opposing elements are directed, whether for
+good or evil, by one will.
+
+"So you want to go on the stage," said Orange quietly.
+
+She turned to him and saw, with anguish, the deep amazement his words
+had not expressed.
+
+"No," she said, "no. I have you instead. I want to devote myself to
+you--to exist for you."
+
+"Oh, don't you see, my dear child, that this is a kind of--of pity--of
+anything you like, except the one thing----"
+
+"I adore you, Robert. Oh, I can't get at what I want to say! Any talk
+about love always sounds very stilted or hollow. I only know that I want
+to live intensely in all that concerns you; that just to think of you
+makes me perfectly happy. When I said that learning _Phédre_ and
+_Juliet_ was the reason I lived, I was thinking of the time when I had
+no right to think of you. Of course I loved you always, from the
+beginning. It began at Chambord when I first met you. I very seldom say
+these things, and it is better that they should remain unsaid for the
+most part. But you must never doubt me, and I feel to-day, in spite of
+all we know about each other and all we have suffered, that you are
+doubting me now. You fear I don't know my own mind. Isn't this the
+trouble?"
+
+The intuition which comes to men and women through suffering has always
+the certain sharpness of a surgeon's knife. It may be a reassurance to
+have the inmost thought plucked at by some loving spirit, and yet it is
+seldom that the touch can be given without inflicting agony. Orange
+could not reply at once. In his resolve to be unselfish--to put aside
+that personal equation which was nothing less than his whole nature--he
+had to steel his heart to her, contradicting painfully, by curt, unfelt
+phrases, the promptings of a soul turned in upon itself, desolate and
+confused.
+
+"I have been selfish and thoughtless," he said abruptly; "a missed
+vocation is irreplaceable and it is also indestructible. You hear the
+echo of the call as long as you live--perhaps afterwards. At your age
+you could feel, but you could not wholly understand your talents. If you
+had told me all this before----"
+
+She laughed with real joyousness and clung more closely to his arm.
+
+"I didn't tell you," she exclaimed, "because you would have said just
+what you are saying now. You are the one. All the rest is a means of
+forgetting you. It is something resembling happiness to be alone in the
+turmoil of the world with one unspoilt illusion. This illusion in my
+case is a little idea that I could be a great actress--perhaps! Don't
+look grave, Robert. It makes you sad when I talk this way."
+
+"Those who can be disillusioned have no convictions. Disillusion is the
+failure of a half-belief. I learnt that long ago. But I hate the very
+word in your mouth. Woe to us both if we cannot be resolute now. I
+could have waited--had I seen any reason to wait. Time could make no
+difference in my love. As it is, I have stolen you from yourself. But
+now I have stolen you I will keep you. I cannot--cannot give you back
+again to anything or anybody."
+
+He spoke with that almost mocking tenderness which dissembles its
+passion. At the practical difficulty which now confronted him, all that
+was merely romantic and speculative in his soul took flight, as birds
+that are frightened from a quiet orchard by the yelp of dogs. He became
+aware that he was bitterly independent of the joys he had once found in
+the mere spectacle of the exterior world--the play of light and shade,
+the changing visions of the sky, the charm of the earth. His own
+thoughts were now the sole realities, and the dulness which suddenly
+came over his vision for outward things seemed to render it the more
+acute and concentrated for the things of the mind. As distant hills and
+tree tops show most distinctly before a storm, so every possibility
+which can arise from a conflict of duties stood out with a decisive
+clearness for his consideration. He had married in haste a child-bride.
+There was no blinking the fact. She had the strenuous religious fibre,
+and with it real Bohemian blood. She was also at the yielding age, when
+a dominant influence could do much to divert or modify every natural
+trait. He could not doubt that he had this power over her then. How far,
+and to what purpose, should he exert it? For himself he wished to
+discourage any hankering on her part for public life, and, most of all,
+public life behind the footlights, under an artificial sky. No one knew
+better than he that there are certain things of love, of nobility, of
+temperament, of pride, in certain lives which the world at large would
+rather calumniate than comprehend. People in general clung to their
+opinions not because they were true, but because they were their own,
+and among pretty general opinions--particularly in the year 1869--there
+was a strong prejudice against handsome young women who went on the
+stage. It was not in him to consider--even as an egoistic reflection to
+be put aside--how far Brigit's project, carried into action, could
+effect his own political career. His apprehensions were all for her and
+her own content.
+
+"Promise me," he said, "that you will always tell me when the acting
+mood comes over you. Never fight it, never try to resist it, give it the
+liberty to die, but also the right to live. There is an old Hindoo
+proverb: 'Find the flower which can bloom in the silence that
+follows--not that which precedes--the storm.' This applies perfectly to
+a talent or a vocation. If the mood is there, in spite of fatigue, or
+discouragement, or other claims--happiness for that matter--you may
+depend that it is the ruling motive of your life and not to be
+vanquished. You must follow the bent or you will suffer--suffer till you
+die of it."
+
+"How? in what way?"
+
+"Either in your vanity or your conscience; either by the world's
+judgment on your conduct or by your own estimate of your conduct. You
+have no vanity, so the world doesn't count. But you have a conscience,
+and that counts for all!"
+
+He had not calculated, and he could not have foreseen, the effect of his
+words. Her eyes filled with tears.
+
+"My dearest," she said, "don't you see how trivial everything is to me
+in comparison with you? But I dare not love you so much as I can! So I
+encourage other enthusiasms--out of fear. Sometimes it seems as though
+the extraordinary, impossible ideal would be to have you with me for
+ever, and be an actress as well. But that is out of the question. And if
+I had my choice--if I could be as great as Rachel or Mrs. Siddons, or
+live with you on my dear rag-heap, with the jackals howling--do you
+think that I would hesitate, that I could hesitate?"
+
+"If I believed you I should be a dreadful coxcomb!"
+
+"Risk the coxcomb," she said. "I can!"
+
+A clanging bell and the noise of traffic on the quay recalled them to
+the moment. They had barely time to reach the steamer and get on board.
+A strong, cold breeze was blowing; the sun shone full on the sea, which,
+near the horizon, was as green as the sky on a summer evening. But
+clouds were gathering in the north-west, and the peculiar brightness
+which presages rain lent a fugitive brilliancy to the atmosphere. The
+town and its spires glittered; the water, frothing round the
+paddle-wheels, sent its shining spray upon the brown boards of the
+wharf. Brigit kissed her hands toward France.
+
+"Soon," she exclaimed, "soon I can kiss its ground. How I love my
+country and the place where you lived, Robert, as a boy!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+Lady Fitz Rewes had determined to prevent the marriage of Lord Reckage
+with Agnes Carillon. She could not forget the dreadful scene with Sara
+when that poor girl was endeavouring to reconcile herself to the Duke of
+Marshire's proposal. Pensée had studied each person concerned in the
+possible tragedy. She saw that Agnes was by no means serene, that the
+portrait by Rennes somehow made no progress, that Reckage was feverish
+and excitable. His bearing toward Sara during the lunch confirmed
+Pensée's suspicion that the love which had existed between them as boy
+and girl was still unextinguished on either side. He would have been
+less than mortal, she thought, if he had not felt, with all the
+bitterness of a conscious fool, that he had missed his true destiny.
+Sara possessed the warmth and wealth of heart which were the complements
+his own bleak nature required. Agnes Carillon, with her accurate,
+invariable beauty, had a prim disposition, wholesome enough for a man of
+strange, dark humours like David Rennes, but perilous always in its
+effect on any frigid or calculating mind. And Reckage was known to be
+supremely selfish. It seemed to Pensée that Sara had behaved very
+naturally, very touchingly, through the trying conversation on the
+subject of rising men and their marriages. Her demeanour had been
+unsurpassable. But it was not in nature that a woman who understood a
+man could look on, inactive and indifferent, while he fettered himself
+with some damaging influence. Perhaps her ladyship felt the situation
+the more keenly, because, much as she loved Mrs. Parflete, she could not
+bring herself to think that she was the wife for Robert. She had spent
+many weeks refusing admittance to this thought, yet prudence was
+prudence, and, by virtue of its stability, it prevailed. The union, even
+viewed in the most favourable light, had always seemed imprudent. It was
+too hurried. Shocking, mortifying as the possibility of its being
+illegal was, Pensée's conviction that Almighty God ordered all things
+for the best seemed less a faith and more a matter of pure reason than
+was usual in the ordinary run of hard cases which made demands upon her
+piety. "Two diamonds do not easily form cup and socket," was an old
+saying in her home circle. The more she had seen of Brigit Parflete the
+more she had been struck with her--struck with her moodiness, struck
+with her contempt for received opinions, her vigour and independence of
+will. Was she the wife to further the advance of a man of extraordinary
+ability, already much handicapped on the world's course by a proud
+spirit, a reckless, impetuous disdain of creatures generally considered
+the pink of human excellence? He was passionately in love, and the
+strength of this sentiment carried, for the time, every thought of his
+being along with it. But love was not unalterable. The change would
+surely come. The fever and folly, the exaltation and ardours would fade
+into a sacred affection--an instinctive tenderness; yet other interests,
+as vital, and in their season more absorbing, would flock into his life.
+What then?
+
+Pensée and Reckage did not exchange many words till they found
+themselves alone, face to face, in the railway carriage bound for Dover.
+Then they looked with wonder at each other, stupefied at the errand on
+which they were bound, and the strangeness of the whole proceeding.
+Reckage noticed that his companion was attired so correctly and with
+such discretion that no one could have told she was a pretty woman. Her
+veil was not unusually thick, yet it disguised every charm of expression
+and feature. He had bought her a novel, some papers, and a few
+magazines; she turned these over listlessly, and murmured, as the train
+sped along--
+
+"Of course, I had to come. No one will say a word when the circumstances
+are known. I hope poor Renshaw is comfortable in the next carriage."
+
+Reckage replied--
+
+"You have behaved like an angel!"
+
+He probably but half understood Pensée's character: he underrated her
+intellect, and he misconstrued her friendship for Orange into a weak
+infatuation. Agnes Carillon shared his view on this point, for, as he
+and his future bride could never be confidential with each other, they
+managed an appearance of intimacy by discussing with great freedom the
+private affairs of their friends. Agnes, in the fervour of godliness,
+had even seen much that was reprehensible in Lady Fitz Rewes's devotion
+to a man who had no idea of marrying her. She had declared that she
+could not understand it--an attitude pleasing to her fancy and
+gratifying to her pride. Reckage had thought it was not quite clear that
+the danger was immediate. Such was his feeling now toward Pensée,
+although he was conscious of a certain curiosity with regard to her
+motive in taking Brigit's part with such magnificent self-effacement.
+This seemed to him unnatural; and although she had impressed him with
+the highest opinion of her kindness, he could not believe that a woman
+of genuinely tender sensibilities could have approached such an
+altruistic height. She was an excellent creature--as creatures went, he
+thought, but hard in a feeble way. Then he closed his eyes and called up
+the elusive image of Sara de Treverell--very dark, very handsome, with
+her superb black hair reaching to her knees--as he had often seen it
+when she was a little girl--her blue eyes shining with a strange light,
+her lips smiling, her white arms held out....
+
+"Sara may not be a happy girl," said Pensée suddenly, "but she is a
+clever one."
+
+Reckage started from his reverie.
+
+"How odd!" he exclaimed, surprised into candour. "I was thinking of her
+at that very moment."
+
+Pensée had read as much on his face, but she did not tell him so.
+
+"I feel for her very much," she observed instead. "She must be the
+greatest possible comfort to her father, although he may not realise it.
+Yet he is forcing on the engagement to Marshire. She keeps up in the
+most courageous way, but she has ideals, and no persuasion will induce
+her to change them."
+
+He turned red, and said, looking out of the window--
+
+"Ideals do no harm when, for some reason or other, we are unable to
+carry them out."
+
+"I cannot imagine what she will do, or how she will bear her life if
+things continue as they are."
+
+"What things?"
+
+"She is like a slave to Lord Garrow. She is with him constantly, reading
+to him, and doing everything for him. She will be a cruel loss to his
+home when she marries."
+
+"I rather revel at the thought of the dismay which will attend her final
+capture of Marshire."
+
+"I used to hope that you perhaps----"
+
+He glanced up and smiled with an air of satisfaction.
+
+"I don't like the appearance of measuring myself against Marshire....
+But--but he certainly seems, in character, the culminating point of
+mediocrity! In fact, Mr. Disraeli, whom I seldom quote, so described
+him."
+
+"What a husband for that brilliant, affectionate girl! She likes all
+that is simple and grand. A real love--if it were a happy one--would
+make her even more charming, and if it caused her suffering, it would
+make her even more noble. But failing this, there will be a frightful
+void in her life."
+
+Reckage, whose imagination began to play round this thought, replied
+with unusual seriousness--
+
+"I should be horribly grieved to see any declension from her better
+nature. I think I am getting to think less of mere social power. I feel
+more than I used to do that, if one could literally _live_ one's
+theories on moral strength, it would be a complete refutation of these
+ideas about the influence of money or a big accidental position. Old
+Harding was right when he said at luncheon to-day that disinterestedness
+counted very highly in the popular vote. The point about Henry Fox's
+elopement with Caroline Lennox was sound."
+
+"It would not have been sound," said Pensée, "if Caroline Lennox had
+been a third-rate woman. A man can be desperate so long as his choice,
+on the whole, justifies, either by her beauty, or her talents, or
+something uncommon, an extreme measure. Now, Robert may not have made a
+wise choice, but it is certainly a distinguished one. It can be
+understood and it commands respect."
+
+"Oh, yes, his is a thorough-going emotion, and one couldn't find a fault
+with its object. A strong man is always a man who feels strongly _and_
+who can carry his feeling into action. Robert, with all his mysticism,
+is never subject to the deep depressions of spirit which usually afflict
+men of his gifts. He does not know what it is to be languid; or to have
+invincible indecisions. He will die game--even if he does know German
+metaphysic backwards!"
+
+She was astonished.
+
+"How well you understand him!"
+
+He leant forward a little and adopted a more confidential tone--
+
+"Sara spoke of him at lunch. Her judgment of men and affairs--for so
+young a woman--is nothing short of amazing. I attribute it to the
+Asiatic streak on her mother's side. It is a kind of second-sight. What
+a wife for a Prime Minister! And Marshire, a fellow of middling ability
+and no experience, has had the sense to perceive her qualities!... My
+feelings can't be easily defined, nor, indeed, is it necessary they
+should.... I have gone so far that I cannot see anything for it but to
+go on."
+
+"You mean--in your own marriage?"
+
+He sighed profoundly, remained for several minutes silent, and finally
+roused himself with a painful effort.
+
+"There are some griefs which can defy any consolation save that of time.
+Time ultimately cures everything. It is a matter of history that I was
+once very much attached to Sara."
+
+"I know," murmured Pensée. "I know."
+
+He covered his eyes with one hand and looked through his fingers at her
+face, asking himself by what transition he could best arrive at a frank
+exposition of his embarrassed sentiments. It seemed to him that she was
+intelligent as well as trustworthy, and he felt impelled to call in her
+assistance, being sure that, in any cause where love could be pleaded,
+she would show a judicious leniency.
+
+"If you have not observed that I am still--too interested, you have not
+observed with your usual sagacity," said he.
+
+"I think--if I may say so--that time seems only to deepen a sorrow of
+that kind."
+
+"Particularly when it is associated--as in this case--with a certain
+self-reproach. In times of trial my pen is my refuge. I could not write
+for a year after I had decided--irrevocably as I believed--that Sara and
+I could not make each other happy."
+
+"Then you never actually proposed to her? There was never any tacit
+understanding?"
+
+"Never. And if there be any part of my conduct in life upon which I can
+look with entire satisfaction, it is my behaviour with regard to Sara. I
+did not mislead her in any way. I was even over-scrupulous, and
+purposely avoided opportunities of meeting. I say this in order that you
+may know how very determined a man's will must be--if he does not wish
+to be selfish. A course of struggling is miserable indeed. I spared her
+any knowledge of my misery."
+
+"She might have been happier had she known of it! Last year she remained
+entirely alone; and solitude is full of bad things--it is very
+dangerous, however much one is accustomed to it."
+
+"Poor girl! But I could not, in honour, suffer a false impression to be
+formed. As a matter of fact, my family wouldn't hear of the match. There
+is no denying that they were set on my marrying Agnes."
+
+At last he had been able to mention her. He leant back and relied on his
+companion's tact to elaborate the theme.
+
+Pensée murmured--
+
+"Dear Agnes! If there are storms, they won't come from her side. She is
+of a very elevated spirit----"
+
+He winced, but she continued--
+
+"Generous, sternly honest, greatly esteemed by every one. Neither pique
+nor passion nor petty feelings could ever influence her mind. She is the
+most angelic, good woman I ever met--she is one to whom one may
+complain, and be a bore. She has such utter patience!"
+
+"You would not be impressed by professions, nor am I very clever at
+making them," said he, "but you know, by sympathy, that my affection for
+her is--is the heroic feeling of devotion which has also a kind of
+exclusiveness----"
+
+He could not finish the sentence.
+
+"It leads you to imagine that you could never survive her loss," said
+Pensée gravely. "But need you lose her--as a friend?" Something in his
+countenance encouraged her to pursue this train of thought. "Agnes has
+the deepest admiration for your qualities. No doubt, you truly realise
+the high standard of character which she would hope for in one to whom
+she gave her love. You have proved yourself worthy to call out her best
+feelings."
+
+Reckage was very touched by this tribute.
+
+"And _her_ best feelings," said he, "ought to make us--at our best--very
+humble."
+
+Pensée lifted her veil just above her eyes, clasped her hands tightly
+together, and kept her earnest glance full upon his.
+
+"I believe," she continued, "that if it were in man, or woman, to
+command the heart, you would have her entire affection. I believe she is
+unhappy. During the last week she has had many ups and downs. She has
+passed with astonishing rapidity from the lowest despair to the height
+of joy. She has tried to distract her mind by incessant occupation. But
+you know her manner--it is transparent near the surface, difficult to
+sound in its depths."
+
+"Yes, she has a childlike openness--up to a certain point."
+
+"I can only tell you, therefore, what I think, judging as a woman, by
+outward signs. I seem to detect a sort of self-doubt--as though she
+feared making some error. She has become of late strangely intense and
+vivid--she is fascinated by books, and drawn to music, as she never was
+before. Perhaps she sees that you give her a priceless, beautiful
+friendship which must indeed be flattering. Yet--yet in marriage
+friendship is not enough. So she is acquiring a stock of interests which
+are impersonal."
+
+Loyalty to Agnes forbade any reference to David Rennes. She had no
+intention of giving the least hint of her own private conviction on the
+subject. She desired merely that Reckage should learn how the engagement
+might be broken off without giving unimaginable grief to the young lady.
+The move under this aspect was skilful and successful. Reckage received
+her words as a subtle appeal to his honour and kindness.
+
+He said at once--
+
+"I am glad you have told me this. I could bear my own mistakes. I could
+not bear hers. Let me look at the step which I have taken! The choice is
+for life. Agnes is inflexibly conscientious and self-denying. Several
+years of attachment have tried us both. She knows my faults; I know
+where her"--he paused for a moment--"her qualities might clash with
+mine. We spoke of this together; we considered every circumstance that
+could, by any remote chance, weigh against our common happiness."
+
+Pensée shook her head.
+
+"Of course, that was right," she said doubtfully.
+
+"It is no easy matter to get a promise from Agnes," he went on; "but
+when once given it is inviolate. This throws a grisly responsibility
+upon me. I must risk everything, if I am to do anything. You have
+expressed a dread which I have been endeavouring to stifle. I am making
+her wretched."
+
+"I don't say that _you_ are making her wretched; I say she seems
+disturbed and unsettled when she ought to be full of the brightest
+hopes."
+
+"Quite so. I fear the unsettlement is exceedingly great. A neutrality on
+your part is all I could in reason expect; but your counsel in such a
+grave matter----"
+
+Pensée summoned all her energy, and breathed a little prayer for the
+well-being of the two women whose lives were at stake.
+
+"I saw Agnes this morning," she said, speaking at a rapid pace; "she
+came up for some shopping, and she returned home directly after tea."
+
+"She ought to have told me that she was in town," he exclaimed.
+
+"My dear Beauclerk, you know her sweetness! She said, 'I don't wish to
+take up his time; an engagement ought not to be a servitude.' That is
+the reason why she did not tell you."
+
+"She ought to have told me," he repeated. "Such extreme delicacy was
+most uncalled for. It wasn't even friendly. When we were old friends,
+and nothing more, she would have told me."
+
+"Yes, when you were friends."
+
+"I think she gave me a nasty rap in so acting; I do, indeed. One would
+infer that I had failed in some ordinary attentiveness. It is a distinct
+reprimand."
+
+"You are quite wrong. She meant it in the noblest way."
+
+"Then it is a desperately near thing between noble conduct and a
+downright snub. I can't help lashing out about it."
+
+In Pensée's own private perception this outburst of temper was no bad
+sign. It convinced her, at least, of the sincerity of his feelings
+towards Agnes and his genuine desire to behave well at every point in
+their relationship.
+
+"Don't you understand," she said, "that Agnes _dares_ not love you. This
+being the case, I cannot see that she could go on in what might be
+called a natural way. Will you bear with me, and, if I am indiscreet,
+forgive me? She wants all the sympathy and support she can get. She is
+suffering very much from want of courage. She trusts, perhaps, in her
+friends' prayers. It seems as though something very momentous were going
+on, but that she has nothing to do but to wait for it. I think there
+may be a way out still; God may overrule people's hearts."
+
+She had never intended to say so much, and she trembled with an
+excitement which she could not subdue.
+
+"I must admit," said Reckage, "that for some time I have had a
+conviction, weaker or stronger, but, on the whole, constantly growing,
+that Agnes and I are unsuited to each other. I am too much accustomed to
+this idea to feel pain at it."
+
+"O, it makes my heart ache--I mean so much painfulness for every one
+concerned!"
+
+"This conviction must, sooner or later, lead me to action. The world is
+indulgent to the impetuous, because they appear strong; and it is most
+severe to those who hesitate, because hesitation is taken for a sign of
+weakness. Lookers-on have no patience with moral combats--and least of
+all in affairs of this kind. But no opinion will force me to do what I
+do not think right. If our engagement is a mistake, I don't intend to
+'lump it,' as they say. We must mend the evil. And, thank God, it is not
+too late. The merciful part is that in relieving my own mind I shall
+also greatly relieve hers. It is clear she doesn't love me. This last
+act proves the fact conclusively."
+
+Pensée did not agree with this, but she remained silent, fearing lest a
+rash word should spoil her good work.
+
+"For a long, long time," he continued, "my constant question has been,
+'Can this last? is it a delusion?' But I do not shut my eyes now. I knew
+they were all wrong at home when they made out that she was in love with
+me, and expected me to propose. We are both the victims of an
+impertinent, if well-meant, interference--what Robert calls 'the
+jabbering of the damned.' Poor Robert, we are forgetting him. I am
+ashamed to talk so much about myself."
+
+"In his case, I see no help but resignation to the will of God," said
+Pensée.
+
+"But that resignation is an awful thing," said Reckage. "It is a shade
+better than the atheism of despair; yet only a shade better."
+
+By degrees Pensée was learning why Robert had such a strong, tenacious
+attachment to this man. He was always faithful to his mood. All he did
+and all he said represented accurately all he thought and all he felt.
+Some live a dual life--he lived but one; and, with his faults,
+peculiarities, and egoism, there was never the least dissimulation. It
+was true that, if occasion required, he could hold his tongue; but he
+abhorred tact and hated doctrines of expediency--everything, in fact,
+which put any restraint upon the "development of his inclinations."
+
+The train was now approaching Dover. He decided to put his own troubles
+aside, and, out of mere decency, concentrate his thoughts on the severe
+trial in store for Orange.
+
+"This business about Parflete," said he, "is a great blow. One becomes
+indifferent to what is said of, or done to, one's self; but that all
+this uncommon, saddening, sickening trouble should come upon Robert is
+too bad. It seems a kind of hacking and hacking, bit by bit."
+
+"You are certainly very fond of him," said Pensée.
+
+"Yes, I am. He's so dependable."
+
+Pensée engaged a private cabin for the crossing, and she retired there
+with her maid. Too tired and over-strung to sleep, she lay down, closed
+her eyes, and lived again through the many fatiguing, agitating moments
+of that day. Her affection for Orange had been so steeped in
+hopelessness from the hour, months before, when he told her of his love
+for Brigit, that the wedding of these two had been a relief rather than
+a final anguish. The agonising possibilities which had sometimes darted
+into her mind would never again surprise her: the questions which she
+had always striven to prohibit were no longer even in existence. He had
+taken the unredeemable step: he was married. Jealousy had no part in her
+suffering. Robert had never given her the smallest right to feel
+slighted, or neglected, or abandoned. Some women are jealous by
+temperament, but the greater number are jealous only when their trust is
+insulted or their dignity brought down to the humiliating struggle for a
+lost empire. Empire over Orange she had never possessed or claimed: she
+could feel no bitterness, therefore, at the thought of the small place
+she occupied in his destiny. The sorrow which cut and severed her heart
+was loneliness. She felt that, after the wedding, she could hardly do
+anything or take interest in anything. It seemed as if the waters were
+gathered in heaps on either side; things, she thought, could not be
+better, or worse. God was with her still, and her children--her dear
+children--were with her still, but she could not disguise the greatness
+of the loss. Her single wish, as far as she dared have a wish, had been
+to benefit Robert and to win his confidence. She had seen his mind
+working in various directions, and although she was not, in the faintest
+sense, his fit companion intellectually, she had a knowledge and
+experience of life which made her friendship valuable--a gift worth
+offering to any man. She had been able to advise him. Brigit now had
+even this privilege also. "I shall seem an intruder," thought Pensée,
+again and again.
+
+It was altogether a terrible crisis. How she should struggle through all
+the parts of it, or what she should be when it was over, she could not
+trust herself to say. The world seemed too heavy a burden to be fought
+against. Yet with what thoughts and aspirations and earnest prayers she
+had stood by Brigit's side at the altar rails. She had been given a
+supernatural strength for the marriage ceremony. She was by nature and
+before all things, from first to last, unalterably a good friend, and at
+that moment of intensest difficulty the sight of Robert's happiness had
+made her oblivious to every other consideration. Glad tears had risen to
+her eyes. She had been swayed by one feeling--a deep, sincere
+thankfulness that his love-story, which had promised sorrow only from
+the very beginning, was ending, unexpectedly, so well. She might have
+feared that he was changing one form of unhappiness for another, but she
+knew his impatient spirit, and, knowing it, she could not imagine that
+any earthly pain could try him so sorely as a lifelong separation from
+the one woman he loved--loved to the pitch of madness.
+
+And then--in one moment--the strange tidings came which drove her from
+the stupor of resignation to fevers of anxiety more consuming than any
+she had ever felt before. A great flame, successive flames, of terror
+swept over her, as she feigned placid sleep in the little cabin, at the
+thought of the news poor Reckage would have to break on the morrow. How
+would Robert bear it? That he would act a noble and true part she could
+not doubt. But at a certain degree of suffering, the strongest man can
+think of nothing except himself, and she felt already, in anticipation,
+the dumb torture she would have to endure in looking on, helpless and
+unnoticed, at an agony which she could neither share nor relieve. The
+fear of losing him had been dreadful, but it was even more dreadful to
+know that although she might have, after all, a certain right now to
+offer him sympathy, she could never make him happy, that she could never
+hope to learn the secret regrets, griefs, and torments, the unspoken
+broodings which would surely enough prey upon his spirit. She pictured
+herself sitting at his side, or walking with him, for hours--he absorbed
+in his own sorrowful thoughts, she striving vainly to distract him by a
+tinkling prattle on every topic except the one nearest his heart. Oh,
+how fearfully wide asunder they were! A sensation of the enormous
+distance which can exist between two souls in daily companionship filled
+her with a sickening, shivering heaviness. She thought she would have to
+cry out because of the slow fire which seemed to scorch her dry and
+aching eyes. Robert would never really need her, never really care about
+her. This new trouble would take him farther away than ever. He would
+burn all his ships, and any poor little tenderness he might have had in
+the past for her, with them. Some great revulsion would take place in
+his character; he would perhaps grow silent, reserved, enigmatic, his
+face would show to the world the terrible, false, unknowable peace which
+is the veil of the dead. It was useless to smooth her difficulties which
+existed. It was foolish and wrong to encourage herself in unreal ideas
+about him. It was best always to be straightforward and admit the
+truth--no matter how bitter. And yet he had been kind and helpful to her
+in a way in which scarce any one else could have been. She clung to the
+belief that she would be able to do something to make his hour of trial
+less severe. The hope which insinuates itself into every unrequited love
+still lingered. He could at least always talk to her about Brigit: that
+common memory would be a constant link between them. She had earned his
+esteem, and perhaps with his esteem an affection deeper than he himself
+realised. Under the pressure of a sudden and tragical necessity, he
+would turn to her with the certainty that she would not fail him. She
+was modest enough about her own powers. A remark she had once heard
+Reckage pass, to the effect that religious women of devoted lives were
+unhappily conspicuous, as a rule, for feebleness of mind and strength of
+prejudice, haunted her as a kind of doom from which there was no appeal.
+She knew, too, the verdict usually passed on those of either sex who
+have the courage to maintain an unselfish attitude whether toward God or
+some fellow-creature. But here she comforted herself by deciding that
+her utter isolation in this universe rested on the fact that she did not
+much deserve to be loved by anybody. This granted--not without a
+pang--she felt the signs of weariness in her heart, but none of
+wavering. She resolved to be foolish in the eyes of the self-satisfied.
+
+Lord Reckage meanwhile was pacing the deck. His conversation with Pensée
+had cast a darkness over his spirit. He had made up his mind, weeks
+before, that the marriage years of his life would be the best, the most
+distinguished, and most useful. With the utmost pains he had chosen a
+wife. He had acted with the greatest caution in no weak or superficial,
+or haphazard, or fitful way. Nevertheless, the outlook was dismal. This
+first step in decline from his ideal caused him much pain and
+restlessness, and led him to think cynically of many doctrines to which,
+in serene moments, he had unconditionally subscribed. He compared his
+own case with Robert's. Robert, in his headstrong passion, had certainly
+rattled up sleeping lions, heedless of all consequences, and in defiance
+of every warning. He had now met, poor fellow, with an appalling
+chastisement, but could any one pretend that he had not brought it, to a
+great extent, upon himself? He (Reckage), however, had behaved, from
+first to last, in an unexceptionable manner. He had studiously avoided
+the one girl of whom he was inclined to be immoderately fond. It was
+true that he had practised this restraint less in her interest than his
+own. But this was because he feared--as every creature will fear by
+instinct its mortal enemy--the power of an ardent attachment. His mind
+had revolted in a panic at the thought of becoming dependent on a
+woman's humours. The noblest of the sex were capricious, and far and
+away the best course was to select a partner whose unavoidable nonsense
+would leave one, merely from indifference, undisturbed. Sara de
+Treverell, in the past, had been, by her vagaries, directly responsible
+for several sleepless nights, and a sleepless night was one of the few
+things he simply could not stand. Thoughts of her had seemed to unfit
+him for his work, to weaken his nerves, to act, in various ways, to his
+disadvantage. She had been exacting in her demands upon his nature. They
+were not uttered demands, or demands which he could formulate, but he
+had been conscious of them always. He had been obliged to pause and ask
+himself at every thought, at every step--"What would Sara say to this?"
+It was a tyranny--if not a species of witchcraft. And so he had
+determined to see her no more. Following the usual, most correct method
+in such procedures, he went abroad. After a week of irritating
+meditations, furtive, all but unconquerable desires, after he had passed
+the day on which it had been his custom for months to call upon her,
+after he had learned how to discipline the hours he had used to spend
+riding with her in the Row, he felt as a convalescent after some
+exhausting malady--quiescent, dulled, possessed by a drowsy stupidity,
+inaccessible to any serious emotion. He was cured of his fancy, although
+no effort of will could protect the soreness of the bruise. He had
+persevered in his course of treatment--congratulating himself, at the
+end, on his escape from a dangerous obsession. The picture of Sara grew
+paler and paler before his eyes--indeed, it seemed to fade all too
+quickly, and, with the perversity of consistent egoism, he felt many
+twinges of sadness to think that he had forgotten her so soon. His
+vanity would have preferred a longer combat--for even the most shallow
+admit the romantic admirableness of an obstinate love. Still, what could
+he ask better than this triumph over a cruel, an obstructive memory? He
+had regained, so he believed, his old independence as the man of action,
+energetic, self-controlled, moved by one passion only, and that the
+finest of all--ambition. In surveying once more the great design of his
+career, he found it an effort to bring up--from the far recesses of his
+experience--the poor little sentimental episode, so insignificant and
+commonplace, which, in a kind of aberration, he had taken for an affair
+of the heart. He returned to England. He threw himself with vigour into
+the questions which were then disturbing Churchmen. He revived a
+touching acquaintance with Agnes Carillon, an acquaintance which was
+peculiarly soothing to his preoccupied mind. Here was a girl, he
+thought, who could be a fit helpmate. She asked for nothing,
+absorbed nothing, and gave a great deal of gentle, kind companionship
+when he wanted it. When he did not want it, she understood
+perfectly--possessing, in an eminent degree, the rare domestic art of
+being able to make herself scarce--alike in his thoughts and his
+engagements. The truths did not occur to him that a woman in love could
+never have been so unnaturally prudent, or that a woman whom he loved
+could not have interested him so slightly. He took great pride in her
+perfect skin and hair and eyes, in her beautiful, graceful, and gracious
+manners, but his soul never kindled at her approach, his pulse beat no
+slower at her departure. He requited her agreeableness with respect. And
+so they had become engaged--to the unbounded gratification of all his
+relatives, amidst the congratulations of his friends. There seemed a
+certain shadowiness in his conception of their future existence together
+as man and wife: something which he recognised as an interior voice
+chimed in, from time to time, with provoking interrogations, mostly
+unanswerable. A plaintive need of happiness, melancholy, obscure, but
+recurrent, mixed in his fluctuating thoughts. Finally, it pursued him,
+haunted him, and caught him with the strange tenacity of an incorporeal
+grasp. Sara, now dethroned from her place of power, loomed in all his
+dreams. Irresistibly, he was drawn toward the forbidden recollection of
+her delightfulness. There seemed no longer any danger in these musings.
+He had entrusted his actual life to the safe-keeping of the nicest woman
+he had ever known. Where then was the harm in harking back, merely in
+reverie, to the frivolous, amusing phantom of a renounced sentiment?
+Yet, after a reverie of the kind, why did he often wonder how he and
+Agnes could look in one another's faces and pretend to any sort of real
+intimacy? Sara knew him better than he knew himself. Her sympathy ran
+into a hundred sinuosities--she understood his silence as well as his
+conversation. He was never conscious of the smallest strain, the least
+dissimulation, in her society. Beneath their curious disparities an
+identity seemed to unite them. There was an unrepenting quality in her
+conscience which braced and stimulated his moral courage. Agnes, on the
+contrary, with her instinct of behaviour, made him over-cautious and
+encouraged the tendency to indecision which interfered with the
+comfortable balance of his soul. And he wished his faculties to work
+with astronomic punctuality. It is certain, however, that he would have
+accepted his choice as a thing settled beyond any readjustment, but for
+the news of the Duke of Marshire's proposal, and the sight of Sara
+herself on the fatal afternoon when he was feeling especially forlorn.
+She had thrown him a glance in which defiance, disdain, and an
+indistinct affection were blended in one provoking dart. He was a
+moralist who believed that there is always, between men and women, the
+dormant principles of mistrust and hatred. He had discussed this theory
+frequently with Robert, who found the notion as repulsive as it was
+false. But it seemed a truth beyond contradiction to Reckage, who
+possessed, in his own mind, constant irrefutable testimony in support of
+the view. Sara had never before defied him. She had never before seemed
+to feel her power as a creature incomparably superior in brilliancy to
+all the other girls in their circle. She had never before seemed to
+pity him as a man who had feared to do what Marshire--a being considered
+remarkable only for his family and his fortune--had boldly, gladly
+volunteered to carry out to the ultimate consequence. That glance
+pierced his self-love, his pride, his will. After his long hesitations,
+after the wearisome, interminable debates between his judgment and his
+inclination, he decided suddenly, all at once, without further
+reflection, that he no longer belonged to himself. He was the slave once
+more of doubts, fears, and temptations. His excited nerves and troubled
+senses asserted their right to be regarded as threads, at least, in the
+web of destiny. From the hour of that chance encounter in the Park, till
+he and Sara met at Lord Garrow's that day, he had not been able to
+escape from the inexorable cruelty of an ill-used passion, once more, in
+full command. Every individual has his rule--could one but find it
+out--and a rule to which there are no exceptions. With Reckage it was
+simple enough: he invariably followed the line of his own glory. The
+distress he suffered--really, and not colourably--took its rise from the
+intervention of Marshire. He felt as a racing man feels when he sees a
+friendless horse, which he might have purchased, beat the Derby
+favourite by some three lengths and a half. He winced at the suspicion
+that he had committed an error in judgment, and lost a great
+opportunity. The words of Sir Piers Harding on the subject of audacity
+in love had fallen on his ears with startling force. It was an
+illustration of that old saying--"The appetite, the occasion, and the
+ripe fruit." Convinced now that his reputation, his career, and his
+comfort depended on his conduct toward Sara, all hesitation left him. He
+would have to drive Marshire, in confusion, from the field, and bear
+away the prize himself. Pensée's observations with regard to Agnes had
+cleared away most, if not all, of his difficulties in that particular
+quarter. No one had ever accused him of cowardice. Whenever he took
+refuge in procrastination or deceit, it was never because he was afraid,
+but in order that nothing might interfere with the purpose he had in
+hand. The growing miseries of the situation which he saw, already in
+part, served only to augment the violence of his resolve. His vanity
+forbade him to believe that Agnes would not suffer very much when he
+told her, as he intended, that they had both mistaken a profound
+esteem--based on reason--for love, which, as all the world admits, is
+something remote indeed from one's will and one's power. He was desirous
+to remain her friend, but he could not, without insincerity--and by
+God's grace, he would not--continue longer in a position which was false
+in itself and an injustice to each of them. He proposed to dwell very
+frankly, but in deep sadness, on the fact that although their engagement
+had been a seeming success--outwardly--the success had been by no means
+proved either to his satisfaction, or, he ventured to think, to hers.
+He would pray that she would not consider herself under any restraint
+in speaking freely to him, from her heart, at all times. He hoped that
+the inevitable criticism of malicious or ignorant persons would never
+shake her faith in his unwavering loyalty, his singular desire for her
+happiness. On the other hand, he did not wish to involve her in
+justifying his action to the world. There was no call for that. She
+might be assured that he would do as little as possible to protract the
+agony--he used the word advisedly--of their separation. He believed it
+would be the best way--if God gave them the ability--not to meet until
+they had trained themselves to the peaceful, sweet relationship of their
+first acquaintance. All this and more he composed and turned over in his
+mind as he paced the deck. His eyes frequently filled with tears, and he
+thought how little, how fearfully little, he had ever suspected this
+severance from a noble life with which he had wished most earnestly to
+join his own. He was unhappy according to the measure of his capacity,
+and he was genuine in so far as he regretted the necessary suffering of
+the innocent with the guilty. But guilt is in the intention, and he
+could say, with truth, that he had never intended to give pain, or to
+make trouble, in his life.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+The Southampton steamer approached St. Malo about three o'clock on the
+following afternoon. Robert and Brigit had spent the night on deck--it
+was better than going below into the close, dreary cabin--and so they
+counted the stars, and kept their gaze, through the vast reaches of
+atmosphere, for the first sight of land. The moon, then at its full
+strength, lit up the whole blue dome above them, and cast its glancing,
+silver path upon the water--a path which the ship ever crossed but never
+followed. On and on they sped, and, as their ears grew accustomed to the
+monotonous churning of the paddle-wheels, the silence seemed intense.
+The splendour of the night made sleep, to minds as passionate as theirs
+toward all manifestations of the world's beauty, impossible. Unconscious
+of any particular thought, they shared a dreamless reverie which was so
+perfect in its rest and so complete in its still contentment that they
+did not know that they were resting, nor could they realise that such
+sweet hours, even as bitter ones, do not loiter in their passing or come
+again. Soon enough Robert saw himself very far gone from the
+undissembled sternness of his old resolutions. If he could but be rid of
+that altogether! He thought he had obtained a mystic recognition of the
+terrorless but uncommunicating Joy of life which while men live they
+pursue, desiring it with the one human craving which survives every
+misfortune, every thwarted hope, all enslavement of the heart's small
+freedom--the thirst for happiness. Was man, whom God had made in His
+own Image, but a shadow on the unstable wind? Could it be true that he
+came in with vanity and departed in darkness, his soul bereft of God,
+knowing not his time, finding not the work that is done under the sun,
+born to companion worms in the dust? Should he remain unresisting and
+without influence on the decision of his own destiny? Yet he remembered
+the precept of Christ: "Whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and
+whosoever will lose his life for My sake shall find it"--words which put
+forth a great mystery, perhaps a warning. Plainly, in all that a man
+could bring to the world, or take from it, there was vanity and death;
+but many things were vain merely because they were not eternal, and many
+things perished because where life is, change must be. Immutable,
+permanent possessions were the gifts of God to men. But the gifts of men
+to God would always be imperfect--whether they offered the sacrifice of
+their wills or their imagined earthly happiness. Yet if this
+imperfection were a mean one, something less grand than the immeasurable
+sanctity of Divine strength made human and therefore sorrowful,
+therefore not omnipotent, therefore liable to error--where then was the
+merit of renouncing a manhood already too squalid to be endured, friends
+that were phantoms, loves that were lies, joys that were void promises
+invented by the cruel for the disappointment of the foolish? He looked
+down at Brigit, who, wrapped in her furs, was stretched out by his side,
+her beautiful, child-like countenance turned toward him, smiling in
+faith and deep unspeakable tenderness. He could hear her tremulous
+breath and catch the fragrance of her face, which, in the moonlight,
+seemed as white and delicate as a cloud. The knowledge that she belonged
+to him at last entered into his heart, his blood, his brain, his
+thoughts, became the very life within his life--an element which was
+neither wholly love nor wholly passion, but a necessity from which he
+could not depart and without which he would cease to be. All men need to
+have near them, allied in close association with them, either a force to
+strengthen their weakness or else a weakness which insists upon some
+demonstration of their strength. In conceivable circumstances it might
+be a duty to dissever such a bond; it might be a duty to die of
+starvation rather than steal a loaf, and, as death would ultimately
+quench the craving stomach, so a broken soul, in time, would cease
+lamenting for its maimed energy. Let heart-sickness pass beyond a
+certain bitter-point and the heart loses its life for ever. Had Robert's
+marriage been impossible, had he decided, on that account, to go away
+from Brigit's influence, had he vowed, in some paroxysm of despair, to
+see her no more, to pluck out his eye--to forget her--what would have
+happened? Would he have been able to say to himself at the end of three
+years, seven years, nine years, "I did my duty. I have my reward"? Is it
+so easy even to acquiesce in the great bereavements caused naturally,
+against our will, by death? Does one ever, in the hidden depths of the
+mind, mistake the cinders of a consumed anguish for the stars of peace?
+A man need not be a prophet in order to foresee the effect of certain
+measures on his own character. Indeed, if self-knowledge be not regarded
+as a sentinel to the judgment, its laborious acquisition would be worth
+the travail of no honest will. Gained, it remains like an interdict upon
+all undertakings, projects, ambitions, setting forth clearly all that
+one may, or may not, attempt in common life, and, above all, in
+heroism--heroism understood truly, not the false ideals of idle, untaxed
+sentiment. Robert shrank from examining the sharpest nail of the several
+which had been piercing his heart for weeks--from the day when he had
+first received the news of Parflete's death. Had he not often suspected,
+until then, that, for some reason, he had been called to renounce the
+hope of marriage? True, he had never been certain of this, and,
+certainly, the chain of events, even considered without prejudice,
+seemed altogether favourable to an opposite view. His resolution had
+been to remain single so long as he could not marry the woman of his
+choice. Firmly enough he had taken his stand on that ground, realising
+to the utmost every difficulty to be encountered, every interest to be
+thrown aside, from the exigencies of such a position. The
+misunderstandings which would arise, the restraint, the loneliness, the
+possible morbidity of his own feeling, the sure absence of charity in
+all outside criticism of his conduct, were not overlooked or
+under-estimated by a man so versed as himself in the tariff of the
+market-place. He had known full well that his decision, robbed of its
+romantic and picturesque motives, would affect very seriously every step
+in his career, and influence, as only violence to one's human affections
+can influence, his character, his mode of thought, his whole view of
+life and his work in life. This he had known--known, that is to say, as
+much as anything may be known of a plan not yet executed and destined to
+a slow accomplishment which finds its final seal of success or failure
+neither in this existence nor in death, but beyond the grave. Now,
+however, that the exterior obstacles to a happier scheme were apparently
+removed, the more formidable opposition of his own secret ideals stirred
+ominously in his conscience. Men's designs are never so indefinite and
+confused as when they meet with no outward resistance. A close attack
+has proved the salvation of most human wills and roused the energy of
+many drooping convictions. It is seldom good that one should enter into
+any vocation very easily, sweetly, and without strife. The best
+apprenticeships, whether ecclesiastical or religious, or civil or
+military, or political or artistic, are never the most calm. Whether we
+study the lives of saints or the lives of those distinguished in any
+walk of human endeavour where perfection, in some degree or other, has
+been at least the goal, we always find that the first years of the
+pursuit have been one bitter history of temptations, doubts,
+despondencies, struggles, and agonising inconsistencies of volition. To
+natures cold originally, or extinguished by a false asceticism, many
+seeming acts of sacrifice are but the subtle indulgence of that curious
+selfishness which is not the more spiritual because it is independent of
+others, or the less repulsive because it is most contented in its
+isolation from every responsibility. A renunciation means the deliberate
+putting away of something keenly loved, anxiously desired, or actually
+possessed; it does not mean a well-weighed acceptance of the lesser,
+rather than the greater, trials of life. When Orange had faced the
+desolate road before him it was as though men ploughed into his heart
+and left it mangled. Submission to the severities of God whatever they
+might be, obedience to authority, a companionless existence--these were
+the conditions, he knew, of the meagre joy permitted to those who, full
+of intellect, feeling, and kindness, undertook the rigorous discipline
+of a solitary journey. The world seldom takes account of the unhappy
+sensitiveness in devout souls; it thinks them insensible not only
+because they know how to keep silent, but how to sacrifice their secret
+woes. And what, after all, are the gratified expectations of any career
+in comparison with its hidden despairs?
+
+It may be a fact that love, in every imaginative mind, approaches
+madness; on the other hand, the least imaginative are often not merely
+attracted but carried away, without any sort of consent, by some
+over-mastering human magnetism. To love well is a quality in
+temperament, just as to preach well, or to conduct a siege well, or to
+tend the sick well, or, in fact, to do anything well, is a special
+distinction, a ruling motive in the great pursuit of absolute
+felicity--a pursuit which is the inalienable right of all human
+creatures, whether fixed mistakenly in this world, or wisely in the
+next. No calling can be obeyed without suffering, but as in the old
+legend each man's cross was found exquisitely fitted to his own back, so
+a vocation is found to be just when, on the whole, one has fewer
+misgivings that way than in any other. By the exercise of
+self-discipline one may do much that is not repulsive only but
+suicidal--a man may so treat his spirit that it becomes a sort of
+petrified vapour. When, however, he has dosed, reduced, tortured, and
+killed every vital instinct in his nature till he is an empty shape and
+nothing more, he must not flatter himself that he has accomplished a
+great work. Life is not for the dead, but for the living, and in
+crucifying our flesh we have to be quite certain that we are playing no
+ghost's farce, inflicting airy penalties on some handfuls of harsh
+dust. Robert could not feel that absorbing interest in himself which
+enables so many to cut themselves adrift, painfully, no doubt, from
+every creature and all impersonal anxieties. If he wished for fame,
+power, wealth, it was that he might use them to the advantage of his
+friends, or for the reparation, in some degree, of his father's sin. But
+all the joy and all the melancholy in love give a free rein to egoism,
+and now that he had gained, as he believed, the desire of his eyes, the
+confused, tyrannical, inexplicable, triumphant selfishness dormant in
+him, as in all of us, began to assert its terrible power. He forgot the
+agonies, storms, and fevers of the past. Work had not always been able
+to dominate his unrest. There had been times when he had been compelled
+to follow the beckoning dreams; when, in tightening his clasp about the
+mockeries of his hope, he lost the pale happiness which he held already.
+Whole days had passed when some oppressive thought had spread its dark
+wings, as a bird of prey, over his whole being, crushing him gradually
+down to the earth. Now the occasion, the solitude, the glory of the
+night cast their spell over his soul. For the first time his emotion, so
+long dumb and imprisoned, found speech. Brigit listened, almost afraid,
+to his burning words, which, new and strange to her, were, in reality,
+but the echo of his interior life, his secret intimate thoughts, the
+pent-up eloquence of a latent habitual devotion long distrusted for its
+very strength and kept till that hour in strict silence, lest in the
+torrent of feeling it should say too much. The love to which he had long
+since surrendered himself now had complete possession of him. He spoke
+as he had never spoken before--as he never spoke again. The storm was
+restrained, subservient possibly still, but it was there, not to be
+forbidden, denied, or gainsayed. One has to be very strong in order to
+support the realisation of a long deferred, almost abandoned, hope.
+Affliction seems to intensify a personality, adding to it a
+distinctness, a power altogether commanding and irresistible, but even
+in our purest happiness we lose something of ourselves, and become,
+momentarily at least, less our own masters, and more pliant to the
+reproof of chance, the sport of destiny. As Robert uttered his
+passionate confession, he was conscious that much in him which had once
+seemed strong was conquerable enough, and, in the torture of the
+indescribable variety of vague, menacing feelings which this suspicion
+called forth, he revolted against the influence which held him, which
+left him neither liberty, nor security; which, for a few days of mad
+exultation, cost him a thousand bewildering, desolating fears. Did he
+guess that when one most eagerly desires happiness, one is most near to
+it? Already, he remembered, with a sudden pallor, and a sharp
+contraction of the lips, that death, in time, would certainly claim both
+of them, and his soul was pierced at the thought, for nothing seemed
+imaginably so perfect as the wild gladness of that poor human hour then
+gliding, with pitiless beats, toward the past. Already the moon had
+ceased to weave her magic; the sun rose over the unrebukable sea, and
+the distant coast, obscured in a purple vapour, seemed but a line of
+darkness against the flushed horizon. The sky was grey, opalescent in
+the north, tenderest green and azure in the east, while large,
+motionless clouds, as blue as vine-clad hills, shadowed in great
+clusters the vast canopy. But if the dawn of day wrought a progressive
+disenchantment of the dreamer, Robert felt with the recurrence of the
+morning the usual prayer rise to his lips in a long weeping,
+inarticulate cry to God--"Thou knowest that I love Thee: Thou knowest
+that all my life is but a desire of Thee: Thy Will, not mine." And he
+heard again the promise: "_Thou art My servant, I have chosen thee, and
+not cast thee away. Fear thou not, for I am with thee: be not dismayed,
+for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee: yea, I will help thee._" As
+the silent disquietude of night gave place to the intense tranquillity
+of day, the impenetrable secret of life, though still profound,
+unviolated, and eluding, was hidden in a shining, though not a blinding,
+mist. Was night less night because it paled gloriously before the sun?
+Was day less day because it darkened into evening? Was joy a false thing
+because it passed? Did not sorrow pass also? If that sweet journey was
+the first and last in all his life, was it not still a miracle of
+blessing, nay, every blessing, to have known even once the power of
+mortal happiness?
+
+"What are you thinking of?" asked Brigit suddenly, touching his arm with
+her hand.
+
+"I am thinking that there is but one way of resisting the woe of
+life--the infinite must oppose the infinite. Infinite sorrow must be met
+by infinite love."
+
+"I suppose we have the sorrow, and the infinite love is God's. We
+mustn't call even our love infinite, Robert."
+
+He hesitated for a few moments before he replied--
+
+"I call it no name."
+
+"Still," she said, "the very book in which the vanity of all things is
+most insisted on has lived itself nearly three thousand years. Solomon
+has given the lie to his own despair of being remembered. This is why I
+never feel sad now when I think about the other fears which made him
+discontented."
+
+"Were they fears? I believe he wanted to conquer the world, which is
+strong, and his own weakness, which was even stronger, as an adversary.
+We must know the measure of a man's desires before we can sound the
+depths of his regrets."
+
+Again she put out her hand, but this time she took his, following the
+instinct of a child who finds itself with a trusted companion in a
+gloomy road.
+
+"Nothing unknown can be wished for," she said gently, "and so, if some
+few things did not last, we should not have this dissatisfaction at the
+thought of their perishing. But what is troubling you? The greatest
+cross is to be without a cross. You, dearest, are never at ease unless
+you are at least suffering tortures for some friend."
+
+"I am thinking of myself now--myself only. I can't forget that every
+supreme blessing must be bought with long sadness, both before and
+after, and now we are together, I am wondering what I should do--if--if
+we were separated. I must have the courage to face that thought. I can't
+put it away because it has defied me, and when a thought defies me, I
+have to meet it fairly. I do not believe in denying its force, or
+running away in an opposite direction. I hear its argument and I try to
+answer it."
+
+She moved towards him and said in a low voice--
+
+"I have one prayer, and this is that I may outlive you. When you die, I
+shall soon follow you. It won't seem so very long. But if I should die
+first I should have to wait, because you would never yield, and your
+grief would cut sharply and slowly, a little more and a little more each
+day. And although I might be with you, you could not see me. I should
+know all your thoughts and yet I could say nothing. Almighty God is too
+kind to let me be so unhappy after I am dead. This is 'the confidence
+wherein I trust.' This is why I have no fears now. We may have great
+trials--how can we expect to be exempt from them? But we must help each
+other to bear them and then they will seem more precious than joys. You
+see, don't you? You understand, don't you?"
+
+He could not trust himself to reply. There are certain utterances,
+certain turns of thought, which are so restricted to one sex or the
+other, so exclusively feminine or masculine, as the case may be, that
+their entire comprehension by both sexes is not possible. Intuition,
+imagination, sympathy may help a great deal; men and women will accept
+much from each other which they cannot to their reasoning satisfaction
+account for, and, if the difference serves only to enhance, by its
+mystery, the melodiousness of the eternal human duet, it also proves
+that, while the singers may be in harmony, they are never in absolute
+unison.
+
+"You know how much I love you," said Brigit, "you know it. Yet there is
+an interior cloister of your mind which you keep wholly to yourself. You
+never ask me there. I watch your face--it tells me nothing. You have not
+yet made me your friend. If you were in trouble you would go to Pensée,
+because she is older and she is used to responsibilities. But you hide
+things from me because you are afraid of giving me pain."
+
+"There is reason enough why I should not tell you of every passing mood,
+nor draw you into some invincible personal sadness, and why I should not
+invite you into the 'interior cloister' of my mind. Nobody deliberates
+to do what he cannot help. There is always something questioning within
+me, and a truth is not to be set aside by any other truth whatever. We
+can only fix our jaws and grip our hands in useless wonder at the
+contradictions of the soul. I would tell you all my heart," he added,
+with a laugh, "but it would take too long!"
+
+He had been startled by the acuteness of her perception. Too probably he
+had carried his reserve to the selfish pitch, and in over-mastering,
+with silence, his own moods, afflicted her who had become now, by love,
+inseparable from his spiritual as well as his outward life. But there is
+something in beauty--just as there is something in youth--which one
+fears to disturb, lest a change should alter, or mar, in the faintest
+degree, the sufficient loveliness, the unconscious charm. Is it not for
+this cause that many dependent natures find classic perfection cold,
+superb scenery unsympathetic, and the spectacle of careless happiness
+embittering? Others, of imaginative temperament, prefer that their idols
+should remain impassive, and, granted the inspiration arising from a
+fair appearance, ask no more, but find their delight in bestowing, from
+the riches of their own gratitude, adorable attributes and endless
+worship. Orange, as many other men of idealising tendencies, took his
+human solace for the discouragements, fatigues, and ordeals of life in
+the mere existence of the woman he loved. He was at the moment of
+humility which is the first and last in all really great passions. He
+asked for nothing; it was all too glorious even to have the privilege of
+offering gifts, of feeling the readiness to die ten deaths for her sake,
+of finding all the recompenses of eternity in the soft depths of her
+bright eyes. But as he was too much in earnest to analyse these
+sentiments, he could neither gauge his own reticence nor justify it to
+Brigit herself. Nor could she, with all her tenderness and womanly
+instincts, help him in that matter--their one possibility of
+estrangement. She lacked the knowledge which renders verbal confidences
+unnecessary; she was too loving and too human to be happy as an
+inspiration and an inspiration only; she also had a great desire to
+give, to aid, to prove her devotion, to be the friend and the
+fellow-pilgrim.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+Brilliant sunlight lit up the grey spires and threatening pinnacles of
+St. Malo. The back of the ancient fortress was hidden in white mist, but
+the houses which rose above the battlements facing the harbour, and the
+shops and little taverns near the quay, shone out in brightness, their
+windows glittering under the sky where straying clouds, driven by the
+wind, were melting, as they fled, into the all-encompassing blue ether.
+Some pigeons and wild gulls circled above the earthworks, darting down,
+at times, between the massive oak piles which, forced deep into the
+sand, were covered with shining seaweed. The piercing note of the
+military bugle, the crack of the cabmen's long whips, the clatter of
+wooden shoes, and the Angelus bells then chiming, made up a volume of
+sound which fell on Robert's ears with all the poignant strangeness of
+an old song heard again after many years. A hundred memories flocked
+into his mind at the first distant view of that familiar scene: memories
+of his boyhood, its errors, its visions, its ambitions; his revolt
+against nature as he understood it, and his desire to keep his heart
+and soul and senses for the service of God, and the custody of his own
+ideals. The very centre of his thoughts was here: here he had found the
+first beginnings of his faith and love. How often he had walked alone
+upon those ramparts with his New Testament and the _Morte d'Arthur_,
+striving, in the fervour of romantic sentiment, to combine the standards
+of knightly chivalry with the austere counsels of the gospel. The
+divinity of Christ is the object of eternal contemplations, and at every
+age--not of the world only, but of the individual--His Humanity, under
+our fresh knowledge, demands a different study and a fuller
+understanding. What changes, therefore, experience and suffering had
+wrought in those early, untried speculations! The ideals remained, but
+they made for swords, not peace; the sweetness of the dream had become
+an inflexible law of conscience; the doctrine of a transcendent disdain
+of this world, accepted in solitude by the obscure youth brought up in a
+provincial town, had exacted its tax to the uttermost farthing from the
+man who struggled now with the rich and powerful in a great city of the
+great universe of affairs.... He thought of his dead godmother, Madame
+Bertin, with her still, pale face and beautiful hands--a cold, blameless
+woman who had treated him kindly and misunderstood him always. She had
+been his father's friend; she had loved him, in her own stern, silent
+fashion, for his father's sake. O, if she might only know now how much
+he treasured every impression he had formed of her strong character!
+She had given him all the tenderness she had, and all the motherly
+influence his childhood had received. What might his life have been
+without that early association with a noble if somewhat restricted
+nature? But these and similar thoughts, while they went deep, passed
+swiftly and did not return again till a very different moment, when they
+came with agony and remained for ever.
+
+He and Brigit were the last to leave the boat. They had been so happy
+there that, by an instinct, they lingered behind the others, unwilling
+to break the enchantment of their isolation from the land, and
+half-dreading the unknown trials, or joys, which awaited, surely enough,
+their first steps upon the soil. As they crossed the plank they looked
+back, obeying a common impulse, at the deserted deck. Their chairs had
+already been moved away, and the leeward corner, which had seemed so
+much their own, was filled up by a small group of sailors who were
+quarrelling about the division of _pourboires_. The drive to Miraflores
+is long and winding, past several small villages, and approached finally
+through a large tract of fields and orchards. But for the changing
+crimson of the vines, it might have been August weather. Robins,
+however, were singing, and the golden, brown, and russet butterflies of
+autumn were floating languidly above the wayside hedges. The cawing of
+rooks, the cooing of wood-pigeons, and the hum of insects invaded the
+stillness of the lonely farms which, at long distances, gave picturesque
+evidence of the human toil expended on the careful, rather melancholy
+charm of that northern landscape. The Villa Miraflores--an elaborate
+reproduction of the celebrated Villa Madama near Rome--stood on a wooded
+hill rising out of a river, facing the rocky sea-coast. Built by the
+Archduke Charles of Alberia for his morganatic wife, Henriette Duboc,
+and pulled down since for the erection of a convent, it is never
+mentioned in history, and it has been long forgotten by the few
+inhabitants of the neighbourhood. But as the young couple entered the
+lodge gates that day, and drove along the stately avenue, the beautiful
+ill-fated structure rose before them as some castle in the air brought
+down to earth by a magician's wand. Was this their home? They dared not
+speak lest the vision should fade too soon. But Orange remembered it
+all--this was no dream. There were the winding alleys leading to peeps
+of water, land and sky; there was the path which he had followed, years
+before, in search of his destiny. He drew a long breath, drinking in the
+intoxicating strength of the fresh sea air wafted through pine-trees.
+The atmosphere was charged with the very madness of youth and joy. Who
+could have hoped for such a miracle as this? Had the whole course of
+fate a like to show? Did it not seem a triumph over life and its
+threatened deceptions? His own servant and Brigit's maid--whom they had
+sent there some days before--were watching for them at the open door,
+and the sight of those well-known faces gave him a still further
+assurance of the scene's actuality. They crossed the hall without
+noticing a small blue telegram on one of the malachite tables. They
+walked together through every room, wondering at their treasures,
+looking out of the windows, amazed, bewitched, gradually becoming used
+to the fact of each other's company in such a solitude. What were the
+woes and cryings of the outer world to them, lost in the impenetrable
+silence of that retreat? A strange, double sensation of delight and
+forgetfulness surged in them both. All knowledge of disturbing human
+influences, of the fret, and discord, and inquietude of common existence
+seemed trivial and even false. They looked with confidence into each
+other's eyes, as though they were the sole inhabitants of some
+brilliant, inaccessible star set far above the earth and its evil. They
+were to remain there a month--one month at least--and after that would
+trials, or labour, or sorrow deluge in bitterness the sweet, eternal
+recollection of such days? A table had been set for them in one of the
+small pavilions leading on to a balcony. The scent of flowers, mingling
+with the sunlight, came in through the open windows, bringing the
+garden's freshness to the faded lilacs on the carpet and tapestry.
+Brigit went to the looking-glass, took off her hat, and apologised for
+her "frightful appearance." She had thrown her veil and gloves on the
+sofa, and the mere sight of them there gave a homeliness to that
+forsaken room which, with its rococo decorations, painted ceilings, and
+gilded doors, had something of the dead gaiety of an empty theatre.
+Brigit made the tea, following the English custom taught her by Pensée.
+Was the water boiling? Did he like sugar? How absurd not to know whether
+one's husband took cream! The two had seen so little of each other in
+domestic surroundings that this little commonplace intimacy had an
+intoxicating charm.
+
+"Are you happy?" she asked suddenly. "Do you know that you are all I
+love in the world, and I am yours for ever and ever?"
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+"And how much do you love me?"
+
+"I shall never be able to say how much."
+
+She took his hand, kissed it, pressed it to her heart, then asked him,
+with some confusion, if he liked grapes better than pears.
+
+"You are so beautiful," he replied.
+
+"Not to-day," she answered; "to-day I am quite dull. But you are
+handsome. I saw them looking at you on the boat. And I was proud--oh, so
+proud to think that you were mine."
+
+When they had finished their meal, she opened the piano and struck out
+some chords, which echoed with a kind of wail through the long corridors
+outside. The instrument was out of tune, and the strings seemed
+muffled.
+
+"Something is inside," she said.
+
+They looked and discovered a few sheets of music which had slipped down
+upon the wires. The sheets were dusty, stained with age, blurred by
+damp, but one bore the name "Henriette" written in the corner in a
+large, defiant hand. Joining the fragments, they found it was an
+arrangement in manuscript of Poe's ballad, "Annabel Lee."
+
+    _"It was many and many a year ago,
+     In a kingdom by the sea,
+    That a maiden there lived whom you may know
+      By the name of Annabel Lee;
+    And this maiden she lived with no other thought
+      Than to love and be loved by me._
+
+    _But our love it was stronger by far than the love
+      Of those that were older than we--
+      Of many far wiser than we--
+    And neither the angels in heaven above,
+      Nor the demons down under the sea,
+    Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
+      Of the beautiful Annabel Lee."_
+
+As Brigit read aloud these words of haunting pathos, the very trees,
+rustling outside in the October wind, the far-away sound of the waves
+beating upon the sand, seemed to Robert an ominous accompaniment--half a
+warning, half a promise.
+
+"I wonder," he said, "I wonder why that was there?"
+
+He was uneasy, he could not say why. He was conscious of some influence
+in the room. He felt, unaccountably, that they were not alone. Looking
+round for some confirmation of this strange instinct his eyes fell on
+the small blue envelope which had been placed on the mantelpiece by his
+servant. It was addressed to himself. Fortunately, whilst he was opening
+it, Brigit's attention was still riveted on the old song which she was
+humming over at the piano. She spoke to him three times before he
+answered.
+
+"This telegram," he said, at last, trying to control his voice, "is from
+Reckage. He is on his way now to see me."
+
+"He is coming here? Why is he coming here?"
+
+He put his arm round her, in a desperate, long embrace, kissing her
+face, her eyes, her hair.
+
+"What is it, Robert?" she said, clinging to him, for she heard something
+like a sob under his breath. "You have had bad news. You must tell me."
+
+"It may not be so serious ... perhaps it is badly worded ... but Pensée
+is coming with him and he says quite plainly that there is some legal
+difficulty about our marriage."
+
+"Some legal difficulty!" she repeated. "What is the use of that now? I
+can't leave you again. I'll die first. I can't bear it. O, Robert, I am
+so tired of the law. There are no laws for the birds, or for the
+flowers, or for the trees, or for any thing that is happy! Why should we
+be made so miserable--just to please the magistrates and mayors!"
+
+"But it is more than that--I am certain. Suppose it has something to do
+with Parflete?"
+
+"With Wrexham? How could that be? He is dead."
+
+"He may not be dead."
+
+She sank down to the floor on her knees.
+
+"O my God! You know that he is living."
+
+"Reckage doesn't say so. But would he and Pensée come unless they felt
+we should need them?"
+
+"I need no one except you. I don't want to see them. I don't want to
+hear their news. They are killing you. You seem calm, but your face! you
+have never looked like this before. O, darling, it can't be what you
+think it is."
+
+He lifted her from the ground and took her in his arms again, as though
+he could defy the cruel, invisible fate which had decreed their
+separation.
+
+"In any case," he said, "I won't give you back--I cannot. It is too much
+to ask. You are mine--you were never his--never. God is not unjust, and
+this is unjust. As for other people and outside opinion, they have not
+mattered to me at any time, and least of all can they matter now. I
+won't give you back."
+
+She held him closer, already feeling, in spite of his words, the first
+agony of their inevitable farewell.
+
+"You love me!" she said, "you must never leave me. Kiss me, and promise
+me that you will never leave me."
+
+Grief and horror had broken down every barrier of reserve between them.
+The pent-up passion on his side, the intense unconscious tenderness on
+hers seemed to meet and blend in the one consuming thought that they
+belonged to each other--that, in the awful struggle between the force of
+circumstances and the force of life--they might have to part.
+
+"Why should we two matter in so large a world?" she cried. "Surely we
+need not suffer so much just for the discipline of our own souls? I
+cannot, cannot, cannot go away. I can't live without you. I can't die
+without you. I am tired of being alone. I am tired of trying to forget
+you. And I have tried so hard."
+
+Her face, from which all colour and joy and animation had departed,
+seemed like a June rose dead, in all its perfection, on the tree. One
+may see many such in a garden after a sudden frost.
+
+"You mustn't leave me. They all frighten me. I have no one but you," she
+continued; "God will understand. He doesn't ask any one to be alone. He
+wasn't even crucified--alone. He didn't enter into Paradise--alone. Ask
+me to do anything, but don't ask me to go away--to go back to Wrexham.
+You are much stronger than I am. If you thought you ought to cut out
+your heart by little pieces, you would do it. But you must think of me.
+They may have all my money--that is all they care for. But I must have
+you."
+
+Although she made the appeal, he had resolved, in silence, long before,
+that, come what might, he would not give her back. The decision rose on
+the instant, without hesitation, doubt, or misgiving--a deliberate
+choice between two courses.
+
+"You cannot return to Parflete," he said quietly. "Don't despair. Your
+marriage with him may be annulled. That aspect of the question is
+revolting, abominable; but we are both in such a false position now that
+we owe it as much to other people as we do to ourselves to put
+everything in a true light. You are so brave, Brigit----"
+
+"I am tired of being brave."
+
+Her slender arms tightened about his neck; he could feel, from the whole
+abandonment of her attitude and the slight weight of her childish form,
+how little fitted she was physically for the squalid ordeal of the
+law-courts. If she could live at all through horrors of the kind, it
+would have to be by a miracle. And has one the right to hope for
+miracles where the question of happiness or unhappiness in human love is
+the egoistic point at stake? But, right or no right, there was in them
+both that supreme and fatal force of affection which, if it be unusual,
+is at least usual enough to be at the root of most mortal tragedies.
+
+"I am tired or being brave," she repeated. "I want to rest."
+
+In the mirror opposite them he saw the reflection of the bright garden
+outside. How calm and still it seemed! Had he wandered there, years
+before, with a beating heart, in search of his destiny, merely to find
+it at last after the humiliation of a public scandal? Had his idyllic,
+almost mystical romance, with all its aspirations, grace, and
+unspeakable strength, been given to him just to be called from the
+house-tops and discussed in the streets? Was this the end of all sublime
+ideals? Did every delicate, secret sentiment have to endure, soon or
+late, the awful test of degradation and mockery? Did it have to
+come--this terrible day of trial when the Love which moves the sun and
+the other stars had to pass through the common sieve with dust, ashes,
+and much that was infinitely viler? No, he told himself, no: ten
+thousand times, no.
+
+"Listen," he said, "listen. You need not go back to him: he knows--every
+one knows now that we love each other. We can't live together because
+our marriage is not a marriage. Your marriage with Parflete was not a
+marriage, but it appears so to the world. Is it worth while to undeceive
+the world? When I think of the cost of such a proof--I say it is too
+great. But if you are courageous--and you will be for my sake--we can
+defy every one--on one condition. We must be sure of _ourselves_. We
+must know that we can depend on ourselves. We may have to separate now
+for some months--perhaps a year--perhaps longer; we must school
+ourselves to look upon each other as friends--friends, nothing more. It
+will be very hard--for me, and it is on my account only that we must
+separate now. But you will accept this, even if you cannot understand
+it, because my life here depends on you. I don't say anything about my
+happiness. I leave that out of the reckoning. But if I am to live--to
+get through the day's work, I must love you and I must see you. Later
+on, we may be able to meet quite often. This will be something to which
+I can look forward. All this has been in my mind always--ever since I
+first met you. I feel now as though every thought, every hour, every
+event of the last five months has been a preparation for this moment. On
+one point, however, I have never wavered. We can't desecrate our love by
+some odious law-suit. If this life were all, it would be different. But
+it isn't all. It seems as though we are not to be everything to each
+other. Yet we can be more than everything--we can be one existence even
+if we cannot be man and wife. We can help each other, we may see each
+other--in time."
+
+"In time?" she repeated. The certainty that she would have to be
+deprived of his presence for the greater part, at all events, of her
+life came over her with intolerable anguish, and with it she felt a
+presentiment of the future struggle to be waged against the profound
+instinct which drew them, with all the strength of a river's current,
+toward each other.
+
+"No, no," she said, "if you send me away, I shall die. They frighten me;
+they tell me lies. My mother is dead; my father is dead. I have no one
+but you. You can't forsake me. You love me too much. I know you won't
+leave me."
+
+Her innocence made the recklessness of her appeal the more compelling.
+The beseeching, intense affection of her soul transfigured her face with
+an almost unearthly sweetness. White, trembling, and despairing she laid
+her head upon his shoulder, holding him with both arms, and swaying from
+the agony of a grief without hope and without tears.
+
+"You must try to understand," he said, "you must try. You are so
+young--such a child, but you do know that we can't live together, in the
+same house, if our marriage is not valid. That would compromise your
+honour. How else can I say what I must say?"
+
+"I shouldn't mind. God would understand."
+
+"But the world wouldn't understand. And one has to avoid the appearance
+of evil."
+
+"They may say anything they please. I should be very proud if they
+misjudged me for your sake."
+
+Then a thought suddenly pierced her. What would they say about his
+honour? Would the world misjudge him? Her weakness became strength under
+coercion of this new possibility; her cheeks burned at the light thrown
+upon her first selfish impulse.
+
+"O, why have I said such things?" she said, tearing herself away from
+him, "and I used to think once that women like me were too bad to live.
+I used to wonder how they could be so evil. That was because I had
+never been tempted. And now I see how hard it is--how hard to fight. It
+is so easy to judge others when you are married to some one you love.
+But I begin to understand now--I ought to hide myself in a cell and pray
+till I die for women who are unhappy."
+
+She pushed back the soft golden hair which had fallen a little over her
+face, brightening its sorrow. Every feature quivered under the invisible
+cutting hand of cruel experience. In those last sharp moments of
+introspection she had gained such a knowledge of suffering that a fire
+seemed to have consumed her vision of life, reducing it to a frightful
+desert of eternal woe and unavailing sacrifice. Partially stunned, and
+partially blinded by misery, she felt the awful helplessness and pain of
+what is sometimes called the second birth, a crisis in all human
+development when the first true realisation comes that the soul is a
+stranger, a rebel, strong as eternity, weak as the flesh, free as the
+illimitable air.
+
+"O, I do understand!" she said. "I have been pretending to myself that
+we could do impossible things. But I didn't want to speak my own
+death-warrant. No, don't come to me. Don't say one word to me. I know so
+well now what must be done. We mustn't hesitate--we mustn't think. It is
+something to know where you can't trust yourself. I can't trust my heart
+at this moment. So I must just depend on the things I have been
+taught--things which I accepted, oh, so easily, when I applied them to
+other people. You must go away. You must leave me here with the
+servants. Esther is good and kind. Pensée chose her for me. You can
+leave me with her."
+
+She supported herself by holding, in a desperate grasp, the heavy silk
+draperies by the window. The image of her, leaning against the faded
+scarlet curtain, tall, fragile, yet resolute, with heaving breast,
+closed eyes, and pallid lips, remained before him night and day for
+months, and though, in the process of time, the vividness of the picture
+waned, it lived always among his unforgettable impressions.
+
+"You must leave me," she said again.
+
+"Yes, but I will come in the morning."
+
+"You will rest, you will try to sleep--for my sake."
+
+This time she lifted her head, and, turning towards him, met once more
+the glance which she felt must have called her to life had she been
+dead.
+
+"You will come in the morning?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Once more she held out her arms. He kissed her mouth, and eyes, and hair
+once more. Neither could speak, and both were tearless. Then she went
+with him to the door, opened it, and seemed to lead the way through the
+long corridor, down some stone steps to the garden. She knew that he
+would not leave the spot while she was in sight. So she walked back to
+the house alone and mounted the steps, turning at each one to wave her
+hand. He saw her enter at last, and close the window. Then she fell and
+was helpless till she was found by Esther. Robert watched till the
+lights were lit, and for some hours after they were finally
+extinguished. The stars came out, and the moon made the languid night
+seem white with beauty. Orange walked toward the town and the small
+cemetery where Madame Bertin was buried. Then he threw himself by the
+lonely grave which held the one creature on earth whom he seemed to have
+a right to love without scruple and without restraint. And there he
+remained till daybreak, weeping.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+Lady Sara had written to the Duke of Marshire, and so fulfilled, in
+part, her promise to her father. But, while she said much that was
+graceful, coquettish, and characteristic, the Duke felt unable to regard
+it as an acceptance of his offer. She was very kind with that kindness
+which has no sort of encouragement in it. Among other things, she begged
+for another week on the plea that "seven days furnished a very short
+speculation when the result might possibly decide the whole course of
+her life." In much anxiety, for his Grace was very much in love, he
+composed, after three hours of careful thought, a reply, and, having
+read the least tender but most sensible passages to his lawyer, he
+himself left the communication, together with a beautifully bound copy
+of "Lettres Choisies," by Madame de Sévigné, at St. James's Square. The
+parcel and the missive arrived when the young lady was reading and
+re-reading two other letters which she had received that morning from
+the North of France. One was from Lord Reckage; the other was from
+Pensée Fitz Rewes. Their respective contents ran as follows:--
+
+     MY DEAR SARA (I love the sweeter name of Valérie: may I not use it
+     sometimes?),--I shall never be able to get through all I have to
+     say--no words can reflect the fulness of human nature in such
+     suffering as it has been my privilege--and sorrow--to witness here.
+     In doubt, they tell us, we must stand on the rule of authority. But
+     for this principle I should find it hard to reconcile myself to
+     this deplorable affair of parting two people who love each other,
+     evidently, in an almost lyric sense. You, I know, will understand
+     that this expression contains no sneer at a frame of mind
+     altogether surpassing my own capacity for idealism. Are there many,
+     or any of us nowadays, who feel that there are certain things which
+     we must do, not do, or perish eternally? I have never detected this
+     narrow, vindictive, inherently superstitious view in Orange. I am
+     forced to the conclusion, therefore, that his truest happiness
+     consists always in his submission to the Will (as he understands
+     it) of God (as he understands Him). Men are like horses--unless
+     they are born with staying powers in them, no amount of training
+     can make them really stay. Robert is a born ecclesiastic--I have
+     said so always. His conduct in this present crisis will be a slap
+     in the face to those who insist that religion makes men timorous.
+     Speaking for myself, I never entertained a moment's doubt of his
+     acting in precisely the manner in which he has done; his worst
+     time, however, is, alas! to come; he may have to wait till eternity
+     for his recompense. That trial often embitters the most constant.
+     The devil is never embarrassed, and where virtue is found
+     superhuman, he takes every care to keep it on a sour--if
+     ethereal--diet. You will beg for less comment and more facts. Let
+     me give them. Orange himself, pale, restrained, haggard but superb,
+     met us at the station on our arrival. He had been waiting for us at
+     the hotel; Mrs. Parflete was at the Villa Miraflores. The two had
+     discussed the situation and parted on the mere reading of my
+     telegram. I cannot say that they might have acted otherwise, but
+     only that they acted as they did. There must have been,
+     nevertheless, a considerable scene. The idealist driven into
+     squalid actualities deserves a martyr's crown. In one single
+     misfortune he suffers all the calamities of the human race, and in
+     one personal horror he sees the death, emptiness, and corruption of
+     all human endeavours. In this exaggeration, these mystics show
+     their genius; they suffer too much in order that ordinary people
+     may suffer a little less. Poor Orange! He is certainly fine, for,
+     even if I discard the _mannerisms_, the eccentricity, the possibly
+     _natural_ self-sufficiency, all that is essential in his character
+     remains and must remain undeniably chivalrous. It was an immense
+     relief to find that he had decided, without suggestions on my part,
+     on his course of conduct. I hate a fellow who tries to be more than
+     friendly, and I dreaded making the experiment. I did venture to
+     point out to him that there might be some way of annulling the
+     Parflete marriage. But idealists abhor law-suits. Parflete, _not_
+     being an idealist, may take some steps on his own account. I
+     refrained from touching on that possibility, although I see much
+     hope that way for our unhappy lovers. The world might cry out a
+     little at first, but success justifies everything. Meanwhile,
+     Robert and Mrs. Parflete have formed a resolution not to meet again
+     for a year or more. After that, they hope to be on the unearthly
+     terms of Laura and her Petrarch. It is magnificent, but is it love?
+     I long to hear your views on the subject. I have no influence over
+     you; I wish I had. I am the most sincere of all your friends. The
+     others either care too little for you, or too much for themselves,
+     to run the risk of giving you offence. But I would risk all, to
+     gain even a little--where you are concerned. May I call on my
+     return? Orange comes back with me. His own instinct tells him that
+     there is a suggestion of the ridiculous--to the mere
+     on-looker--about this interrupted honeymoon. He has determined to
+     face it out in London, and resume his life on the old lines. He
+     will finish his volume of French History, resume his post with Lord
+     Wight, and take his seat in Parliament. If he can succeed in living
+     down this absurdly tragic catastrophe, he will achieve a notable
+     triumph. It gives me a cold feeling at the heart when I think of
+     the dreary heroism he must display. Nothing picturesque, nothing
+     striking. He must simply baffle the scoffers by an inscrutable
+     endurance. Mrs. Parflete is a beautiful creature, but quite a
+     child, and therefore weedy as to figure. I consider her far too
+     young for marriage in any case. She is only seventeen--tall,
+     slight, with a transparent skin, and something actually _babyish_
+     about the eyes. Her dignity, in the circumstances, was wholly
+     admirable. Perfectly self-possessed. Pensée will describe the
+     interviews far better than I could, so I will refer you to her for
+     the details of our mission. Women, I have decided, in every
+     disappointment always look for some future change of circumstances
+     favourable to their wishes. No matter how nominal, shallow, and
+     delusive this faith may be, it sustains them through the worst
+     trials. Thus it is that when a woman sacrifices either her repose
+     or the legitimate compensations of life to a great idea, she
+     suffers far less than a man in similar conditions. The devout
+     female sex drive a good bargain always: they manage somehow to
+     obtain all the sentiment they require from both worlds. Men cannot
+     be happy on sentiment alone; hence, therefore, the dreadful
+     hesitations, self-doubts, and terror which assail so frequently the
+     interior peace of all men drawn, like Orange, by certain qualities
+     of temperament, toward the mortification of their humanity. Laying
+     aside the proud idea of the independence, vigour, and
+     spiritual-mindedness which this practice is held to secure, there
+     is one drawback which, with a view to that class who are really
+     willing to endure many afflictions for the sake of any one definite
+     advantage, ought not to be overlooked. The weak, under such
+     discipline, become sugary: the strong grow hard. Robert has
+     backbone; he is a man of ability, perhaps even genius, but there is
+     always a danger that, either from the accumulation of scruples or
+     the want of romantic incentive, he may throw up the political game
+     and bury himself in a monastery where his dreams may find their
+     sole expression in prayer. Another point occurs to me. Will the
+     rank and file ever trust a person so far above their comprehension?
+     The very word "mystical" is a word of reproach in the mouth of the
+     world. People continually ask questions about Robert. No questions,
+     on the other hand, are asked about Aumerle. Aumerle lives like the
+     rest of us: he does everything he ought not to do--he surprises
+     nobody: he delivers his neighbours over to the absolute power of
+     accomplished facts. (A way of saying that he doesn't care a rap
+     about the fellow who falls among thieves.) Dear Valérie! What a
+     pleasure it is to write to you! I can utter my inmost thoughts. I
+     am often suspected of callousness. This letter will show you how
+     truly I feel the sorrows of my few real friends. I cannot bear to
+     think that Orange should be beaten, as it were, by Parflete. A more
+     fawning, wretched creature than Parflete one never saw. I shall
+     not be set right in my own idea of the Divine Justice unless this
+     battle, at any rate, is to the strong. Write to me. I don't want to
+     whine, but I may tell you that I am not happy.
+
+                        Your affectionate friend,
+
+                                BEAUCLERK R.
+
+Sara sat on a low, embroidered stool by the fender, and, as she studied
+each line of his lordship's despatch (for so he regarded it), she would
+dip her fingers from time to time into a blue satin sweet-box, select,
+after due consideration, a chocolate or a sugared-almond, and nibble it
+somewhat fastidiously, with an air of making concessions to her human
+side. The exercise of divining the many hidden meanings in Reckage's
+epistle was certainly purely intellectual. Nevertheless, as she read the
+last sentences, she smiled with malicious triumph, for did they not
+convey a declaration of strong friendship in a letter designed, beyond
+doubt, as an argument in disfavour of all merely sentimental ties
+between men and women, and as a frank confession of his own inability to
+sustain any relation of the kind? How often had he maintained an
+opposite opinion--seeming contemptuous, indolent, invulnerable,
+unconscious of her beauty, amused rather than attracted by her brilliant
+spirit. Every instinct of the coquette, jealous of her own power and
+wretched from the sterile suffering of wounded pride, resented bitterly
+the unpardonable ease which he had appeared to enjoy in her society.
+Now, however, that he appealed to her womanliness by a humble
+surrender, her better, more generous nature asserted itself. Some of the
+old affection she had long felt for him revived. Where there had once
+been love, a kind of desperate fidelity still lingered, and, although
+Robert Orange was the ideal passion of her heart, Reckage possessed a
+certain influence over her which was not the less powerful because it
+had its root and constant nourishment in their common memory of a
+childhood and first youth spent together in the same county, with the
+same friends and the same bores. She slipped his letter, with a sigh,
+into her belt, and turned her attention for the third time to Pensée's
+tear-stained pages.
+
+     MY DARLING SARA,--I can scarcely write. Although I know the mercy
+     and wisdom hidden in these sad events, my heart is heavy. The best
+     thing is to preach resignation _till_ you have it; and then,
+     _because_ you have it, you _will_ preach it. Robert's love of
+     Brigit makes little outward show, but I know that it is terribly
+     real. We are never so near to our loved ones as when we have left
+     them for God, but _nearness_ of that intangible, invisible kind
+     amounts to agony. At least, I think so. Robert's self-restraint is
+     killing me. When we first met, he shook from head to foot, his very
+     face quivered, but he said nothing. I felt that he would never
+     allow any one to speak of this trouble or offer him the least
+     sympathy. In the necessary discussion of the legal aspects of the
+     case, he was very calm, and seemed rather an adviser himself than
+     the person chiefly concerned. It is not easy to understand him; yet
+     I appreciate reserve. If everybody could understand us, what joy
+     would there be in discovering our souls to those whom we love!
+     Brigit has shut herself up in a room. She cries incessantly (she is
+     so young) and is dreadfully changed. She wishes to go to Paris--for
+     she has some idea of resuming her musical studies. Her voice is one
+     of her great gifts, yet I can't imagine any one singing in such a
+     tortured state of mind. I don't like to say that actually I fear
+     for her reason, but she has, I see, far more heart, poor child,
+     than I ever supposed. How wrong it is to attempt any judgment or
+     estimate of another person's capacity for suffering! She is in a
+     pitiable condition, unnaturally patient in a sense--for it is
+     patience on the rack. Our Lord dreaded suffering and even feared
+     it. Of course, one might easily say that an unhappy love affair is
+     very common, that it is almost profane to compare such an ordinary
+     trouble with the serious, exceptional trials of life. But although
+     Lord Byron declared that "man's love was of man's life a thing
+     apart," his own poems and his own career gave the lie absolutely to
+     the statement (indeed, I am often tempted to believe that women
+     exhibit, on the whole, greater strength of will in their affections
+     than men). I must say, therefore, that the spectacle of a bride and
+     bridegroom, devoted to each other, yet separated on their very
+     wedding day, is quite as serious and sorrowful as (say) the death
+     of a parent, or the loss of a child, or any other melancholy
+     occurrence of everyday life. And what is worse, an atmosphere of
+     _scandal_ penetrates this story--making it most shocking to all
+     refined minds, and peculiarly so to temperaments of extraordinary
+     delicacy. It will take every atom of _my_ courage and constant
+     prayers to bear it _for_ them. What must it be, therefore, to
+     themselves? I tremble at the appalling things in future for us. As
+     for my uncle, I dare not read his letter yet. He must be so upset,
+     so _horrified_. I have never before been called on for such a proof
+     of friendship. It is quite dreadful to be mixed up in a kind of
+     _cause célèbre_. The great justice of God is always mixed with
+     great hardships, and is often executed by those worthy neither of
+     confidence nor respect. I am sure that we shall all have to go
+     through many humiliations before this matter is settled. I know,
+     darling, that _you_ will say I am making a rather narrow-minded
+     fuss. But I do hate publicity, and if it doesn't kill Robert
+     outright, it will have some shattering effect upon his character
+     and his health. Really, I am not thinking so much of myself. Your
+     own _reckless_ bravery, however, would quail a little, I fancy, at
+     the idea of having your most intimate feelings called out from the
+     housetops and discussed in the streets. And remember, please, that
+     Robert is a dreamer--a poet. Of course, in every _active_
+     expedition there must be some few idealistic, Quixotic souls who
+     have to suffer vicariously for the rest. He is such an one. But
+     that sort of feeling of soreness which comes from the sense of
+     martyrdom is not quite the same as a raw wound on one's own
+     _personal_ score. I do hope I am clear. I try to look on the bright
+     side, but there are days when the unseen world and its glorious
+     realities become dubious. These are trials of faith, I know. If one
+     could be wise, one would keep silent at such times. Now, dearest
+     Sara, good-night.
+
+                        Yours ever lovingly,
+
+                                PENSÉE.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+Lord Garrow and Lady Sara left town the next day for a short visit at
+Kemmerstone Park, the seat of Arabella, Marchioness of Churleigh. Lady
+Churleigh had a favourite nephew for whom she was extremely anxious "to
+do something." Vague by nature, she had never been able to define her
+ambition in more precise terms, but, as she entertained influential
+people only, it was considered, in many circles, that she over-did her
+civilities toward the mammon of unrighteousness. Those who were not
+invited called her heartless; those who accepted her hospitality found
+fault with her brains. All praised her cook, and no one ever thought of
+her nephew. It was known that she could not leave him her money. Every
+pair of eyes read his name--Lord Douglas Hendlesham--on his bedroom door
+at the top of the grand staircase, and visitors soon learnt to associate
+this advertisement with a pale, haughty young man who appeared
+occasionally at meals, or sometimes listened disdainfully to the music
+after dinner in the saloon. Distinguished persons, staying at
+Kemmerstone for the first time, would ask a fellow-guest, "Who is the
+melancholy youth who looks so ill?" "That," they would be told, "is
+Douglas Hendlesham, I _think_."
+
+Disraeli called him "a personified hallucination."
+
+The party, on this particular occasion, consisted of Agnes Carillon (who
+attracted unusual attention as the _fiancée_ of Lord Reckage), the
+Bishop of Hadley (her father), the Duke and Duchess of Bevensey, Charles
+Aumerle, and Mr. Disraeli. Lord Garrow lost no time in conveying his
+version of the Orange scandal to the ex-Minister's ears. It was a damp
+afternoon, and the two gentlemen marched up and down the smoking-room
+together, talking so earnestly that the Duke (to his rage) dared not
+interrupt them, and drove out instead with his Duchess and Lady
+Churleigh--who bored him beyond sleep. Disraeli had been opposed, from
+the first, to Robert's marriage with Mrs. Parflete, for, as other
+diplomatists, he preferred his own plans before those of Providence, and
+he had wished to see his young friend wisely united to the
+unexceptionable Viscountess Fitz Rewes.
+
+"But," he observed, shrugging his shoulders, "to talk expediency is not
+a safe way of opening the game with Orange. Many men have ability, few
+have genius, but fewer still have character. Orange has a rectangular
+will and an indomitable character. _Character_ is the rarest thing in
+England."
+
+Lord Garrow stiffened his back.
+
+"I have been educated in a contrary belief," said he. "Our national
+character is our dearest possession."
+
+"That is because it is so rare. You mistake your education for your
+experience--a common error. By character I mean that remnant of a man's
+life which is probably stronger than death, and ought to be stronger
+than worldly considerations."
+
+"Far be it from me to go into such subtleties," returned his lordship,
+stealing a glance at Disraeli's powerful face. "Your friend, at all
+events, has done for himself now. His merits seem to be more interesting
+than respectable, and this marriage has furnished conversation for the
+whole town--chiefly because Beauclerk Reckage was his best man. One
+cannot help feeling sorry for him, but it is certainly a very bad thing.
+How will he justify his rash conduct?"
+
+"He may think it unwise to be detailed in self-justification."
+
+"That is all well enough, and so far I am with you. In such
+circumstances, one doesn't want to tell a lie, and yet one doesn't want
+to tell the truth."
+
+"Well, there are many duties and difficulties in life: there is but one
+obligation--courage."
+
+He fixed his eyes on the fire blazing in the grate, and repeated the
+word with great emphasis--"Courage!"
+
+"He will need it. An unpleasant suggestion has been put forward by the
+lawyers."
+
+"Divorce?" said Disraeli.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"A Bishop was telling me the other day that when one attacks the
+principle of divorce one forgets that it was originally a Divine
+institution! But I agree with you--it is unpleasant. You will find that
+Orange won't hear of such a course. I see great dangers ahead for him,
+but I see no honourable way of avoiding them. When a man, careless of
+danger, unconcerned with profit, takes up the cause of God against the
+world, others may not follow, but they must admire him. Abstract
+sentiments of virtue do not charm me. Orange is a Roman Catholic,
+however, and therefore a practical idealist. The practical idealists of
+England are the Dissenters--mostly the Methodists. John Wesley was
+considered crack-brained by his contemporaries at Oxford; he was a
+greater mystic, in several ways, than Newman, but he was not such a
+poet."
+
+"I know nothing about Dissenters and that class. As for the
+Catholics--the few I am acquainted with are civil and sensible."
+
+"That is true. Most of the English Catholics imagine that St. Peter's
+and the Vatican can be maintained on the policy of a parish church in
+Mayfair! But one moment. There is Aumerle in the hall with a telegram. I
+wonder if he has any fresh news about poor Derby." [Footnote: Lord Derby
+was then lying at the point of death.]
+
+With this unimpeachable excuse he left his noble companion, who, more
+certain than ever that Disraeli could never be in touch with the upper
+classes of England, retired to his own room and wrote down in a journal
+all he could remember of their conversation.
+
+Lady Sara, meanwhile, had invited Agnes Carillon to walk through the
+famous gardens of Kemmerstone, and, as each girl was anxious to study
+the other, they started on the expedition in that high pitch of nervous
+excitement and generous animosity which one may detect in splendid
+rivals, or even in formal allies. Sara dressed more richly than was the
+fashion at that time among English unmarried ladies. Her furs, velvets,
+laces and jewels were referred to an Asiatic, barbaric love of display.
+Agnes, therefore, who had attired herself, in protest, even more plainly
+than usual, was a little taken aback to find her remarkable acquaintance
+in brown cashmere, a cloth jacket, and a severe felt hat of the Tyrolean
+shape, which, poised upon her chignon, tilted far over her fine blue
+eyes. Both women, however, were so young and handsome that even the
+trying fashions of the period could not destroy their brilliant
+appearance. The chagrin of the one and the ironical triumph of the other
+soon gave way to more generous feelings. Each took her companion's
+measure with a swift, intelligent, respectful glance.
+
+"Shall we need umbrellas?" said Agnes.
+
+"I have nothing on that will spoil," replied Sara, "but I am a little
+anxious about your shoes. Are they thick enough?"
+
+Miss Carillon was above many vanities; she left her facial beauty to
+take care of itself. But her feet were uncommonly well moulded, and she
+was careful not to disguise them in the hideous porpoise-hide boots with
+flat soles and no instep which found favour with her generation.
+
+"They look very nice," continued Sara, "and I really think they are
+worth a slight cold. Take my arm, for then we can walk better. How nobly
+Lord Reckage has behaved in this dreadful affair of Robert Orange! You
+won't think me strange for introducing the subject at once? It must be
+on both our minds, for you are naturally thinking of Reckage, and I am
+thinking of dear Pensée."
+
+"Beauclerk is very fond of Mr. Orange."
+
+"He must be. Do notice the autumn tint on those beech-trees. How I envy
+artists--although it is not their business to contend with Nature. The
+great vice of the present day is _bravura_--an attempt to do something
+beyond the truth. That reminds me--how does the portrait grow? David
+Rennes is extremely clever."
+
+"Beauclerk admires his work. He considers him finer than Millais."
+
+"What does he think of the portrait?"
+
+"He hasn't seen it yet. My people are much pleased with the likeness. I
+find it flattering."
+
+"Indeed!" said Sara thoughtfully. "Did you give him many sittings?"
+
+"He knows my face pretty well. We are acquaintances of some years'
+standing. Papa has a high opinion of him."
+
+"And you?"
+
+"I am no judge. Women can know so little about men."
+
+"I don't agree with you there. They are far more conventional
+than we are. They are trained in batches, thousands are of one
+pattern--especially in society. But each woman has an individual
+bringing-up. She is influenced by a foreign governess, or her mother, or
+her nurse. This must give every girl peculiar personal views of
+everything. That is why men find us hard to understand. We don't
+understand each other; we suspect each other: we have no sense of
+comradeship."
+
+"Perhaps you are right," said Agnes, rather sadly. "Yet our troubles all
+seem to arise from the fact that we cannot manage men. It matters very
+little really whether we can manage women. With women, one need only be
+natural, straightforward, and unselfish. You can't come to grief that
+way. But with men, it is almost impossible to be quite natural. As for
+being straightforward, don't they misconstrue our words continually? And
+when one tries to be unselfish, they accuse one of hardness, coldness,
+and everything most contrary to one's feelings. Of course," she added
+quickly, "I speak from observation. I have nothing to complain of
+myself."
+
+"Of course not. Neither have I. I have grown up with most of my men
+friends. I had no mother, and I exhausted dozens of governesses and
+masters, I am sure I was troublesome, but I had an instinctive horror of
+becoming narrow-minded and getting into a groove. My English relations
+bored me. My foreign ones made my dear papa jealous and uncomfortable."
+
+"Then you liked them?" said Agnes at once.
+
+"Enormously. You see, I am always an alien among English people."
+
+Agnes, following an instinct of kindness, pressed her arm and murmured,
+"No, no."
+
+"Yes, my dear, yes. And this is why I am devoted to Mr. Disraeli, and so
+much interested in Robert Orange. We three are citizens of the world."
+
+"But English people who have lived, for any length of time, abroad are
+quite as sensible and tolerant as you are. Take Mr. Rennes, of whom we
+are just speaking."
+
+"To be sure. But artists and poets are like stars--they belong to no
+land. A strictly national painter or a strictly national poet is bound
+to be parochial--a kind of village pump. And you may write inscriptions
+all over him, and build monuments above him, but he remains a pump by a
+local spring. David Rennes is a genius."
+
+"I am glad you think so," said Agnes, with flushing cheeks. "I wonder
+whether he will ever be an Academician?"
+
+"Would you feel more sure of his gifts--in that case?"
+
+There was a slight note of sarcasm in the question.
+
+"It is stupid of me, I know," said Agnes frankly, "but one can't help
+feeling rather shy until one's opinions are officially endorsed."
+
+"How British!"
+
+"I suppose it is my bringing-up. It sounds very feeble. I often feel
+that if I once began--really began--to think for myself I wouldn't stick
+at anything."
+
+"That is British, too," said Sara, laughing. "You are a true _Jane_
+Bull! But as you are going to marry a public man, that is as well. Your
+life will have many absorbing interests."
+
+"Oh yes," returned Agnes; "I hope to help Beauclerk in his constituency,
+and with the members of his Association."
+
+"So far as I can make out they are a weak, selfish lot, but these
+qualities do not affect the question of his duties toward them."
+
+"You express, better than I could, my own feeling. I fear they don't
+always appreciate his motives."
+
+"Beauclerk," said Sara slowly, "is impulsive. He is never afraid of
+changing his mind. Many people are called firm merely because they
+haven't the moral courage to own their second thoughts."
+
+Agnes drew a long sigh, slackened her pace, and stood looking at the
+strange, autumnal lights in the sky, the martins flying over the
+paddocks toward the wood, and the crescent moon which already shone out
+above them.
+
+"I suppose it does mean lack of courage, half the time," she said at
+last; "and yet how disastrous it is to wonder about the wisdom of any
+decision once arrived at, of any step once taken! I daresay every one
+shrinks a little at first from the responsibility of undertaking another
+person's happiness."
+
+"Not every one," replied Sara; "the generous ones only."
+
+"You have known Beauclerk ever since he was a boy, haven't you?" asked
+Agnes.
+
+"Yes. He was such a handsome lad, and he has always been the same."
+
+"I am devoted to him," said Agnes. "I am proud to think that he has
+chosen me for his wife. But one thought is perpetually coming up in my
+mind: Shall I be able to make him happy? A girl, as a rule, seems to
+believe that she can make a man happy merely by loving him. Again and
+again friends of mine have married in this idea. And the hope seldom
+answers."
+
+She spoke very quietly, yet there was great feeling, even great
+bitterness in her tone. She was thinking of David Rennes. Sara had a
+curious magnetism which attracted all those with whom she came into
+friendly relations. Being imaginative, though never inquisitive, her
+quick sympathies rendered the most trivial interchange of ideas an
+emotional exercise. This power, which would have made her a successful
+actress, found its usual outlet in her pianoforte playing, which
+affected her hearers as only extraordinary nervous and passionate force
+can affect people. She had neither the patience nor the sternness of
+mental quality which is required in a creative genius: the little songs
+and poems which she sometimes composed were insipid to an astonishing
+degree. Hers were the executant's gifts, and the fascination which she
+exerted over men and women depended wholly on the natural charm of a
+temperament made up of fire and honey. Agnes had always regarded Lady
+Sara as an odd but chivalrous girl. The stories told in society about
+her eccentric tastes, sayings, and doings were never to her heart's
+discredit, no matter how much they puzzled, or dismayed, the
+conventional set into which she had been born. It was felt that she
+could be trusted, and, although many were afraid of her brains, no one
+had ever known her to betray a confidence, to injure another woman's
+reputation, to show the least spite, or to insist upon an undue share of
+men's attention. The sex may, and do, pardon the first three sins, but
+the last has yet to find its atoning virtue. All declared that Sara,
+with many shortcomings, was neither a poacher nor a grabber. Girls
+consulted her in their love troubles, and not a few owed their marriages
+to her wise arbitration. She had the gypsy's spell. Thus it happened,
+therefore, that Agnes, who was habitually reserved, found herself
+thinking aloud in the presence of this mysterious but not hostile
+personality.
+
+"When does Beauclerk return from the North of France?" asked Sara.
+
+"He is coming back with Mr. Orange next Wednesday. I had a letter this
+morning." Her voice grew husky, and with evident agitation she halted
+once more.
+
+"You know Beauclerk so well," she said at last, "that I want to ask you
+something, and you must answer me truly--without the least dread of
+giving offence--because a great deal may depend on what you tell me. Do
+you think he seems altogether settled in his mind?"
+
+Sara guessed, from the nature of the question, that the truth in this
+case would be a relief--not a blow.
+
+"He doesn't seem quite himself--if you understand me," she said, without
+hesitation.
+
+Agnes caught her arm a little more closely and walked with a lighter
+step.
+
+"I don't think we love each other sufficiently for marriage," she
+exclaimed; "his last letter was so affectionate and so full of kindness
+that it brought tears to my eyes. I saw the effort under it all. We are
+making a tragic mistake. We drifted into it. We were such good friends,
+and we felt, I daresay, that it was our duty to love each other. His
+family were pleased and so were mine. We seem to have pleased everybody
+except ourselves. Not that I ever expected the joy and stuff, and inward
+feelings which one reads of. I am too sensible for that. But I wanted to
+feel _established_--whereas we are both, in reality, rather upset. I am
+sure of this."
+
+"Perhaps when you see each other----"
+
+"Our letters are far more satisfactory than our meetings. I know he is
+fond of me."
+
+"You couldn't doubt that. It is worship."
+
+"I can say, at any rate, that I am so sure of his affection that it
+gives me no pain--not the least--to miss the--the other quality."
+
+"My dear, you are not in love with him, or you couldn't be so resigned."
+
+"I suppose you are right. I have never told him that I loved him. He has
+never asked me. Perhaps he took it for granted. As for me, I thought
+that the respect and esteem I felt would do."
+
+Sara shook her head.
+
+"Not for us. We are different, I know, but we have hearts. We can
+suffer, we can endure, we can be resigned, we can be everything except
+uncertain, or luke-warm. Isn't that true?"
+
+"Yes," said Agnes, and she laughed a little. "It isn't my way," she went
+on, "to talk like this about myself. Yet I can't help seeing that all
+this keeping silence, and disguising facts from one's own reason, is
+actually weak. I don't want to be weak. It isn't English. I don't want
+to be supine. That isn't English either. I want to be just and square
+all round--in my dealings with others and in my dealings with my own
+conscience. Papa has always taught us a great deal about individual
+liberty, and freedom of will. I am beginning to wonder what liberty
+means."
+
+"That's the first step toward a great change."
+
+The young girl set her lips, and looked steadfastly before her, as
+though she would pierce the gathering twilight with her bright and
+candid eyes.
+
+"I daresay you are right. Anyhow, our talk has been a help. When I may
+seem to lack courage, it is because I lack conviction. Once convinced, I
+can depend upon myself."
+
+"When did these ideas come to you?" asked Sara.
+
+"They have been coming for some time. I have been abroad a good deal,
+and I have been meeting people who make opinions. I never gave in when I
+was with them, but I must have been influenced."
+
+The slight emphasis on the words _people_ and _them_ was too studied to
+escape Sara's trained hearing. She knew the force of a woman's
+rhetorical plural.
+
+"I believe you have your convictions now, at this moment," she said
+quietly.
+
+"No--not in the final shape."
+
+"But you can predict the final shape?"
+
+"One more day and then I will decide irrevocably."
+
+"Why do you hesitate?"
+
+"For this reason--I must grieve papa and disappoint my mother."
+
+"Still, both these things have to be done. Some of the best men have
+been obliged to displease their parents in choosing a vocation. Women,
+in their marriages, are often driven to the same sad straits."
+
+"I know, but the prospect is most painful. I feel I could bear my own
+disappointment far better than I could bear theirs. Surely you
+understand?"
+
+"Too well."
+
+They had now reached the house, and Agnes's habitual manner at once
+re-asserted itself. Her voice, which had many rich notes, fell into the
+one unchanging tone she used in ordinary conversation. Her countenance
+seemed as placid as a pink geranium under glass.
+
+"Thank you for a very pleasant walk," she said to Sara. "I sha'n't
+forget it."
+
+"Nor I. And, please, after this, always call me Sara. And may I call you
+Agnes? We have just time now to write a few letters before dinner."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+Robert, accompanied by Lord Reckage, arrived in London the following
+Wednesday. Pensée and Brigit went from St. Malo to Paris, where the
+unhappy girl hoped to enter the Conservatoire. All had been arranged by
+Robert himself, and he had shown a calmness during the ordeal which
+might have deceived his two friends had they been even a little
+insincere themselves or a shade less fond. His Journal at that period
+contains two entries, however, which show that neither Lady Fitz Rewes
+nor Reckage were wrong in fearing he had received a mortal blow which no
+earthly influence could make endurable.
+
+     _Oct., 1869._--I am once more at Almouth House. Beauclerk's
+     consideration for me is almost more than I can bear. The rest is
+     not borne. If it were not cowardly, I would go away alone, and
+     brood at my leisure and yield to the appalling yet all but
+     irresistible wretchedness which calls me, which I actually crave.
+     An effort not to depress or discourage others may be right and my
+     duty. I cannot be sure of this. Sometimes I feel as though it would
+     be wiser to meet the dark hours and make acquaintance with them....
+     And what is to become of her? The longing to see her--even in the
+     distance....
+
+     To-night I talked with Reckage about his Bond of Association. Most
+     of the members feel toward him that insipid kind of hatred which
+     passes for friendship in public life. If he were naturally
+     observant, he would see this; if he were given at all to
+     self-doubt, he would feel it. But his way is to regard most men as
+     ill-mannered and well-meaning.
+
+     _Tuesday._--Another day. I begin to see that I have been called to
+     make every sacrifice--marriage, ambition, happiness, all must be
+     abandoned: abandoned while I live, not after I have made myself, by
+     years of self-discipline, indifferent to such considerations....
+     But for its piety, the _Imitation_ is, I think, the most
+     pessimistic book in the world. The _Exercises_ of St. Ignatius
+     (perhaps because he was a saint) produce quite an opposite effect
+     upon me; they exhort us to hope, action, courage. They make one a
+     citizen of both worlds. Merely to read him is a campaign in the
+     open air against a worthy foe. I defy any man to go through the
+     _Exercises_ with his whole heart, and even whine again. I have
+     resolved to write willingly no more, to speak willingly no more, on
+     the subject of my marriage. That page is turned for ever: there
+     shall be no glancing back. Moods inevitably must come; spasms of
+     despair are as little tractable as spasms of physical pain. But I
+     can at least keep silent about their true cause. The first step
+     toward the cure of egoism is to lock away one's Journal. I shall
+     add no more to this till I have mastered my present state. And I
+     wonder what that mastery will mean? Are some victories better lost?
+
+The Journal ends abruptly at this point, and no more was added that
+year. His letter to Lord Wight has been preserved because his lordship
+sent it to Pensée in some anger, begging her to explain such
+callousness. Pensée, being a woman, brought a gentler understanding to
+the inquiry.
+
+"Don't you see," she said, "that his heart is broken?"
+
+"I see," returned his lordship drily, "he is a born R. C. ecclesiastic.
+Religious instinct is the ruling passion of Orange. That poor young
+woman--with whom he is madly in love--was merely an accident of his
+career. She has affected his character--yes. I suppose Cardinal
+Manning's wife had her influence in her day. But Robert will work better
+than ever after this. Whereas look at me, my dear. When I lost Sybil, I
+was completely done for. I tried to set up for myself, but I couldn't. I
+hope I am a Christian; God forbid that I should quarrel with His will.
+Yet I cannot think I am a better man for my poor darling's death. Don't
+talk to me. Don't say anything."
+
+The letter in question ran as follows:--
+
+                                ALMOUTH HOUSE.
+
+     MY DEAR LORD WIGHT,--
+
+     The messages which you have sent by Lady Fitz Rewes have helped me
+     where I most needed assistance. When I tell you this, it would be
+     more possible for you to imagine my gratitude than for me to
+     express it--at least, in words, and for that matter I can't see how
+     any act of mine could prove even a fraction of it. Shall I resume
+     my work on the 28th? I have had to learn that one does not always
+     choose one's vocation. It is sometimes chosen for us. May I beg
+     you, as one more favour, never to talk to me about the events of
+     the last fortnight? In one sense I am able--too able--to discuss
+     them. This is why I must not indulge myself. In times to come I may
+     find it, perhaps, a certain effort to speak of it all. Then I will
+     tell you gladly anything your kindness may seek to know. But just
+     now it is my duty to keep silent. One cannot fight the wild beasts,
+     and describe them fairly, at the same hour. Either they seem more
+     formidable than they are, or they are even more terrible than they
+     seem. But the order has gone forth--"Face them."
+
+                        Your affectionate and grateful,
+
+                                ROBERT de H. ORANGE.
+
+Robert himself, after he had written this final letter, decided to reply
+in person to a note which he had received that morning from Lady Sara.
+He walked to St. James's Square wondering, without much interest,
+whether Fate would have her absent or at home. As a matter of fact, she
+had felt a presentiment of his call, and he found her, beautifully
+dressed in violet tints, copying some Mass music in the drawing-room.
+
+"I hoped you would come," she said, when the servant had closed the
+door. "Nothing else could have shown me that you didn't mind my writing.
+I had to write. I wrote badly, but indeed I understood. It takes an
+eternity to sound the infinite. We won't talk of you: we can talk about
+other people. Ask me what I have been doing."
+
+All this time she held his hand, but in such sisterly, kind fashion,
+that he felt more at ease with her than it was ever possible to be with
+Pensée, who was timid, and therefore disturbing.
+
+"Have you accepted Marshire?" he asked at once.
+
+"No," she said, blushing; "I do not love him sufficiently to marry him."
+
+"How is this?"
+
+"You know that I always fly from important mediocrities. You think that
+sounds heartless. He has been so kind to me. But I love as I must--not
+as I ought. My dear friend, all the trouble in life is due to forced
+affection. Look at Beauclerk! Think of Agnes Carillon! What fiery
+fierceness of sorrow in both their hearts! Papa and I were at Lady
+Churleigh's last Sunday. Agnes was there, looking, believe me, lovely.
+No portrait does her justice. One finds marvellous beauty, now and
+again, in the middle classes. She is an exquisite _bourgeoise_. She is
+not clever enough to feel bored; she is too well brought up to be
+fascinating; too handsome to insist on homage. Plain women are exacting
+and capricious--they make themselves _worth while_. _Il faut se faire
+valoir!_ That is why a man will often adore an ugly woman for ever,
+whereas an Agnes--an Agnes----"
+
+She paused, gave him a glance, and laughed.
+
+"Does Beauclerk adore Agnes?" said she.
+
+"Can one man judge another in these questions?"
+
+"If neither are hypocrites--yes."
+
+"As for conscious hypocrisy, a priest of great experience once told me
+that in twenty years he had met but one deliberate hypocrite. You must
+be less cynical. Men, however, don't watch each other closely as a rule
+in sentimental matters."
+
+"If that is a reproof, I thank you for it," she answered. "It may do me
+good. This wayward soul of mine is all wrong. Be patient with me. I
+can't help thinking that most men living are, at the bottom, wholly
+selfish and truly miserable."
+
+"Very few people are truly miserable. If this were not the case, the
+world and all creatures must have perished long ago."
+
+"Well, I can tell you of three wretches at any rate."
+
+"Three--against the world and all the planets and heaven?" said he.
+
+"Yes. They are Beauclerk, and Agnes and I. We want time and space
+annihilated in order that we may be happy. We must be humorous studies
+to those looking on, but we are, nevertheless, utterly desperate. This
+is true. Scold me now--if you can. Tell me what is to become of us--if
+you dare."
+
+She stood up. She clenched her small hands, set her lips, and grew so
+pale that the pearls around her neck seemed dark.
+
+"Tell me what is to become of us--if you dare," she repeated, "because
+mischief is certain. You belong to those who endure and fight good
+fights, and keep the faith. Beauclerk and I are of another order
+altogether. We suffer without endurance, we fight without winning, and
+the little faith we have is so little that it is taken away from us. As
+for Agnes--wait! She is encased, at present, in conventionalities. But
+she is gradually getting rid of these wrappings and trappings. She will
+surprise you all yet."
+
+"I can believe that. She is a woman, and a good one. All the surprising,
+inconceivable things are done by good women."
+
+"And most of the wicked things, too."
+
+"Possibly."
+
+"Let me tell you then that, if it is possible in the circumstances,
+Agnes ought to give Beauclerk his release. It would be no more than his
+right to demand this."
+
+"A right is something independent of circumstances, and paramount to
+them. But when you once talk of your rights and your wrongs in love, all
+love is gone, or going. I hope it hasn't come to that--with Reckage!"
+
+"You have great knowledge of him and know how to press it home when you
+choose. Can't you see, plainly enough, that he is on the road to
+disaster?"
+
+"No. One may easily be a long way from happiness and still be nowhere
+near disaster," he said, checking a deep sigh. "Of course, if he feels
+that he cannot in honour remain in his present situation, he must act at
+once. Men who are desirous to satisfy all their friends soon become
+irresolute on every occasion. That is all I shall say upon the subject,
+and this, perhaps, may be saying more than I ought."
+
+"Another reproof! So be it. But I am thinking of his contentment, and
+you are thinking of his duty. What is duty? It generally means that
+which your acquaintances--for no reason and without warrant--expect of
+you. I take a larger view."
+
+"People of Beauclerk's stamp are so constituted that they can rarely
+find contentment by defying a general opinion."
+
+"But Agnes is not a pretty, crying, fluttering creature who would excite
+compassion. Who, for instance, could jilt Pensée? I don't wish Beauclerk
+to jilt anybody, however. I want Agnes to take the step."
+
+"Why?" he asked.
+
+"Because he will break his heart and die--if she doesn't. There!"
+
+"Then it will be your fault."
+
+"Mr. Orange!"
+
+"You know it, and I mean it."
+
+She smiled at him and shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"Do you think I would ever take the commonplace course?" she said
+proudly. "I did hope that you could appreciate motives for which the
+world at large is slow enough to give credit. Beauclerk is weak,
+attractive, and in perplexity; I search my heart again and again, and I
+find nothing but friendship there--for him. I am careful of every word I
+speak, and every look, and every thought. My interest is unselfish.
+But," she added, "what can any of us do, after all, toward raising
+either dead bodies or dead souls?"
+
+"Dead souls?"
+
+"Yes. Beauclerk might have been something once; he is still very clever;
+he will soon be a man for occasional addresses. I believe in him, you
+see."
+
+"I know that."
+
+She was smiling, yet almost in tears, and her voice trembled. He wished
+to speak, if only to break the sudden, oppressive silence which followed
+her last words; but neither of them could find a thought to offer. They
+sat facing each other, lost in following out unutterable conjectures,
+fancies, and doubts, each painfully aware of a certain mystery, each
+filled with a sure premonition of troubles to come.
+
+"I could almost pray," she exclaimed at last, "that you didn't trust
+him. Because--in spite of himself--he must disappoint every one. He is
+not a deliberate traitor--but a born one."
+
+As Sara spoke the double doors were thrown open.
+
+Lord Reckage was announced.
+
+"Beauclerk!" she exclaimed.
+
+His lordship, self-absorbed, did not perceive her confusion--which she
+was too young to dissemble perfectly.
+
+"The man told me that you were here," he said, addressing Orange and
+seating himself by Sara. "I call this luck--finding you both together. I
+have just been with my Committee. They always expect the worst of me
+now, and they are always cheerful in the expectation."
+
+Sara began to disentangle some silk fringe on her skirt; she did not
+look up, and she offered no comment.
+
+"What is the matter now?" asked Robert.
+
+"They want to get rid of me. You see, one might practise very
+considerably on the credulity of the members if one chose, and these
+fellows on the Executive wish me to take a cautious line with regard to
+Dr. Temple's nomination.[Footnote: Mr. Gladstone's nomination of Dr.
+Temple to the See of Exeter.] It is all very well for Pusey to write,
+'Do you prefer your party to Almighty God and to the souls of men?' But,
+as Aumerle says, Pusey is not in the House of Commons. An attack on
+Temple will be highly unpopular. We have sounded opinion in various
+quarters, and we receive the unanimous reply--'Have nothing to do with
+it.' There is a feeling in the clubs, too, that vapid, colourless
+orthodoxy is not wanted in England. Healthy disagreement within limits
+suits us. The question is, then: Ought I to go against this strong tide
+and get myself disliked?"
+
+"Yes," said Sara at once.
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"Beyond a doubt."
+
+"Of course," said his lordship, readily enough, "a combination in
+defence of any article of the faith is a noble thing. My original idea
+was to get up a combination of High and Low and Broad Churchmen, and
+make a stand on purely legal grounds. For instance, how can the bishops,
+_without previous explanation_, consecrate one lying under the censure
+of their House? That is all. There is nothing offensive in that. We
+merely ask for an explanation: we offer no judgment: we state no
+prejudice. If Dr. Temple intends to withdraw his paper from _Essays and
+Reviews_--well and good. Personally, he bears the highest character. He
+would be, in many ways, an acquisition to the Church. But does he
+himself believe in the Church as a Divine institution--mark you, a
+_Divine_ institution? Neither the _Outs_ nor the _Ins_, I should think,
+could object to this question. Aumerle and the Executive, however, are
+dead against any proceedings at all. They think we ought to give our
+Association a more secular character. They say we are hampered by too
+vehement a religious tone. They say that broad Christian principles are
+more workable. Besides, the word Christian always attracts the
+Nonconformists in spite of themselves. They are bound to support you if
+you stick to the line of a believer in Christ--irrespective of
+particular doctrines. And so on and so on. I prefer something more hard
+and fast myself. Yet they may be right. One must go with the times."
+
+He shifted his chair several times during this speech, looking first at
+Orange and then at Sara for encouragement.
+
+"Your Executive are poor creatures," said Sara, with a curling lip;
+"your weak theologians have become flabby politicians--their one rule of
+action is to avoid everything which demands even the possibility of
+self-sacrifice or adverse criticism."
+
+"That is most unfair," said Reckage hotly. "One must see where one is
+going."
+
+"The world," said Sara, "in the long run, despises those who pander to
+it."
+
+"Yes, but it is in the _long_ run, and no mistake! What a fellow you
+are, Robert! Why don't you suggest something? Are you trying to find the
+civilest thing you can say of the performance?"
+
+"It is the system which you must attack in the present difficulty. The
+system is at fault--not Dr. Temple," said Robert.
+
+"No other system can be now looked to as a substitute," answered Reckage
+impatiently. "The thing cannot be done away now, the danger is too
+near."
+
+"Exactly. The English can never deal with systems or ideas. They can
+only attack individuals--you depend in a crisis on the passions of men,
+never on their reason. Whereas if you overhauled their reason, worked
+it, and trained it, the passions, at the critical moment, would be
+roused with better effect, and would be properly organised. Organised
+passions are what you need for a strong public movement. Whirling
+emotions in contrary currents are utterly futile."
+
+"I daresay. I hoped we might make such efforts as to fix a lasting
+impression on both Houses that the State appointment of bishops, coupled
+with the farce of a _congé d'élire_, is rank blasphemy. This outrage on
+good taste ought to occupy the attention of every man. It is quite
+enough to fill the minds of all."
+
+"It won't," said Robert. "You must remember that whatever strikes the
+mind of an average man, as the result of his own observation and
+discovery, makes always the strongest impression upon him. Now the
+average man is not engaged in studying Church government. He will not
+thank you for calling his attention to it."
+
+"Then what do you want Beauclerk to do?" asked Sara.
+
+"He must fight just the same, of course. I merely wish him to see what
+he has to encounter. By dragging the clergy into the movement you make
+it savour--to the popular intelligence--of professional jealousy. By
+making Dr. Temple your example, you render those who respect his
+character powerless to express their opinion. Given the system, he is
+unquestionably the fittest man to profit by it."
+
+Reckage took many turns round the room.
+
+"The personal character of Dean Ethbin," he said, at last, "is not
+exactly square. He acts a trimming part. But now and again he sums up a
+situation. He says that the English people do not choose to keep up an
+Established Church which shall be independent of its Sovereign and
+Legislature. I have seen most of the bishops and archdeacons. They are
+against Temple; they say very little about the system. Even men with
+nothing to gain by it," he added, ingenuously, "don't appear to
+criticise it."
+
+"For all that, the Church must deliver her conscience at whatever risk.
+She ought to assert her will--even against her interest--in order to
+show England that she is her own mistress!"
+
+"You mean that ironically! What does for Rome, however, doesn't do for
+us. The Church of England is It--not She--to most people. As for Rome,
+nothing in her belongs to humanity, except the Vatican discipline--the
+life of which, I confess, is a permanent miracle!"
+
+"My best friends," entreated Sara gaily, "do not--do not fight. Be nice
+to each other and listen to me. The English never read history. Why not
+get up a kind of Historical Commission and examine the validity of the
+Anglican Orders? There you can work at the roots of things. After that,
+introduce a Bill for the admission of clergymen to Parliament. You have
+spiritual peers, why not spiritual Commons?"
+
+"One at a time," said Reckage; "what ideas you have! Say them again. I
+believe they are not half bad. But do go more slowly."
+
+Sara, with a becoming instinct of meekness, took her favourite seat on
+the fender, and at the feet of the two men, looking up humbly, began to
+explain herself with that lightness of phrase only possible to those
+who have a profound knowledge of their subject. Her submissive attitude,
+her soft, musical voice, and her docile expression made both men
+insensible to the actual commands insinuated into the emotional wit and
+acute arguments of her little speech. Reckage was fascinated. He sat
+there drinking in her beauty and wisdom--the one stimulated his senses,
+the other pierced his intelligence, making him feel that, with such a
+companion ever by his side, he might achieve heroism with a good
+conscience. As matters were, he was often dissatisfied, sleepless, and
+oppressed--particularly under praise. He was not often set right, as he
+would have said it, in his own opinion--even when the world and his
+Executive Committee were disposed to cry out--"Well done."
+
+"I didn't run within pounds of my form," was the cry of self-reproach he
+invariably heard above the applause of his colleagues or the
+commendation of the Press. Sara, he believed, would give him the courage
+of his own better nature. These thoughts were passing rosily in his
+heart, when Lord Garrow, accompanied by Agnes Carillon, entered the
+room.
+
+"My love," said Lord Garrow to Sara, "I met Miss Carillon on the steps
+of the London Library, and I have brought her in to tea. But why do you
+sit in the firelight? Why haven't they lit the gas? And who is here?"
+
+A sudden flame from the grate illuminated the faces of Orange and Lord
+Reckage. The two ladies greeted each other. All spoke, and then all were
+silent. It was an awkward meeting for every one present. Lord Garrow
+rang the bell, and the small company sat there without a word, watching
+the footman light the gas in the glass chandelier.
+
+"What do you suppose we have been talking about?" asked Sara
+desperately.
+
+"I can't imagine, my dear," said her father. "I am far too cross. I hate
+these odd ways."
+
+"We were discussing the validity of Anglican Orders."
+
+"God bless my soul!" exclaimed his lordship; "what next?"
+
+Agnes, who was looking pale and worried, frowned with displeasure.
+
+"But how disloyal!" she said severely. "As if one could even discuss
+such a question!"
+
+"Mr. Orange is a Roman Catholic," answered Sara, "so he is not disloyal.
+I am nothing--so I have no obligations. Lord Reckage is in public life
+and has to meet the problems of the age. Don't be narrow, dear Agnes."
+
+"I think it too bad, all the same," replied Miss Carillon--"even in fun.
+I am sure I am right."
+
+Lord Reckage tried to conceal his annoyance, but his voice shook a
+little as he said--
+
+"We were not joking. New men will come in, not improbably with new
+ideas. I must be ready for them. An ignorance of men's moods is fatal."
+
+He hoped she would take this warning to herself. She was, however, too
+stirred to consider anything except the cause of their common agitation.
+
+"Dr. Benson was saying to papa only last week," she answered, "that
+there is no apparent recognition of the Divine presence in our daily
+affairs. It is most shocking."
+
+"The clergy are doing their level best, by bigotry, to make Benson's
+assertion true. At any rate, I am not going about, as the French put it,
+with my paws in the air. I feel strongly tempted to throw up my present
+line, and give the whole Association to the best qualified hypocrite of
+my acquaintance."
+
+"The sure way out of that temptation is not to think yourself exposed to
+it," said Robert quickly.
+
+"I hate sophistries," said Agnes, tightening her lips. "And I hope,
+Beauclerk, that you will never remain in any painful situation against
+your will."
+
+These words seemed to bear an ominous significance. Agnes herself,
+having uttered them, received one of those sudden inward illuminations
+which, in some natures, amount to second-sight. But she was
+unimaginative and not especially observant, sensitive, or skilled in
+discerning the signs of any psychological disturbance. She felt only, on
+this occasion, that a crisis had been reached, that Reckage was vexed
+with himself, with her, with life generally. She had a letter in her
+pocket from David Rennes--a beautiful, touching letter, full of longing
+for a faith, a hope--love, he said, he possessed, alas! What a
+difference in the two men!
+
+"You don't understand," said Sara. "You are right because you haven't
+heard enough. Mr. Orange is going to give a lecture on Church History,
+and Lord Reckage has promised to be chairman. They will hold the meeting
+at St. James's Hall, and I am sure it will be most interesting. More I
+cannot tell you, because they have gone no further in their plans."
+
+But misfortune had entered the room, and that wayfarer--once
+admitted--asserts her ill-will without let or hindrance. Agnes, barely
+touching her tea, rose to say goodbye. Lord Garrow and Reckage escorted
+her to the hall. They helped her into a carriage (lent her for that
+afternoon by the Duchess of Pevensey), and she drove away, trembling,
+tearful, afraid, not reminding her _fiancé_ that they were to meet at
+dinner in the evening. He walked homeward, but not until he had decided,
+after much hesitation, that he could scarcely go back again to Lady
+Sara. His thoughts were fixed now to one refrain--"I must have my
+freedom." Freedom, at that moment, had a mocking, lovely face, the
+darkest blue eyes, and quantities of long, black hair. She wore a violet
+dress, her hands were white, and she talked like a Blue Book set to
+music by Beethoven. Yes, he must have his freedom and live.
+
+Sara and Orange, meanwhile, left alone in the drawing-room, were
+exchanging interrogatory glances, "What do you think now?" she asked;
+"do you pretend to believe that Agnes and Beauclerk can make each other
+even moderately contented?"
+
+"Then you are to blame."
+
+A flush swept over her face. She looked bitter reproaches, but she made
+no answer.
+
+"And why are you so interested in Anglican Orders?" he continued. "How
+is it that you know your subject so well? For you do know it well."
+
+"Catholic questions always appeal to me," she said coldly. "I have no
+religion, but I come from a race of politicians and soldiers--on my
+mother's side. I must have an intellectual _pied à terre_, and I require
+a good cause. Party politics are too parochial for me. So I am on the
+side of the Vatican."
+
+"_La reine s'amuse_," said Robert. "Is that all?"
+
+"Yes, that's all."
+
+She turned over the music on her writing-table and hummed some bars from
+the Kyrie of Mozart's Twelfth Mass.
+
+"If you were a Jesuit," said she, "you would try to convert me."
+
+"St. Ignatius never wasted time over insincere women."
+
+"I am not insincere," she said frankly. "I own I may seem so. But you
+are not kind, and some day you may be sorry for this."
+
+Her eyes filled with tears--which he noticed and attributed to fatigue.
+
+"I wonder how men ever accomplish anything!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"They have no insight. They mistake self-control for coldness, and
+despair for flippancy. Isn't that the case?"
+
+"One can be light and true as well as light and false. Now you are
+witty, beautiful, brilliant--but you don't always ring true."
+
+She seemed confused for a minute, and hung her head.
+
+"All the same," she said, suddenly, "I am always sincere with you. It is
+not in my power to be so with every one. 'Fate overrules my will.'"
+
+"That is the trouble with most of us."
+
+Then he wished her goodbye, promising, however, to call again with
+regard to the Meeting. Lord Garrow met him on the staircase.
+
+"I congratulate you on your election to Brookes's," stammered his
+lordship, "but for Heaven's sake be cautious at play. Really, the
+younger men there are trying to revive the worst traditions in gaming.
+The loo was rather high at Chetwynd's last night," he added, with a
+studied air of guilt. "I won £500 from my host. I call that the
+limit--even on old Cabinet Steinberg!"
+
+He smiled, he waved his hand, feeling that he had displayed great taste
+in a situation of enormous difficulty. Something unusual, too, in the
+young man's face touched his heart. It seemed to him that here was one
+who had felt the world's buffets.
+
+"I have never been just in my estimate of Mr. Orange," said he to Sara,
+as he re-entered the drawing-room. "I quite took to him to-day. He has a
+fine countenance, and I am sure he is very much cut up by this painful
+affair. It's a pity he's a Catholic, for he would make such an excellent
+canon for St. Paul's. He would _look_ the part so well."
+
+"'Happiness, that nymph with unreturning feet,' has passed him by," said
+Sara, watching herself in one of the mirrors.
+
+"She has passed a good many," sighed his lordship. "But play me that
+lovely air which Titiens sings in _Il Flauto Magico_."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+Agnes was too ill to appear at the Duchess of Pevensey's dinner that
+evening. Lord Reckage's melancholy, absent air during the entertainment,
+and his early withdrawal from the distinguished party, were referred,
+with sympathy, to the very proper distress he felt at Miss Carillon's
+tiresome indisposition. The time passed well enough for him--far better,
+in fact, than he had expected, for he was relieved from the strain of
+"dancing attendance" on his betrothed--a thing which he, even more than
+most men, found silly. In the chivalrous days of tournaments,
+troubadours and crusades this romantic exercise of seeming enslaved was,
+he held, justifiable, even interesting. But in modern life it had an
+appearance of over-emphasis.
+
+Poor Agnes, however, could neither eat, nor sleep, nor rest. Her temples
+throbbed, her eyes ached; every nerve was a barbed wire; her soul was
+manacled by promises; she would not use her reason; the fever in her
+veins was not to be quelled, and the one agitating relief to her
+physical suffering was a constant perusal of David Rennes's letter. It
+was the first passionate love-letter she had ever received. Just as a
+river may stream peacefully through pastoral lands till it joins the sea
+and becomes one with that vast element of unrest, so the little flame of
+her girl's nature was absorbed at last into the great fire underlying
+all humanity. Was she in love? she asked herself. When she was with
+Rennes she became silent, incapable of conversation, of thought. All she
+asked was to be near him, to watch him, to hear him.
+
+Was this love? Was it love to press his letter to her heart, to read it
+again and again, to keep it under her pillow at night? Was it love to
+think of him every moment of the day, to compare all others to him and
+find them wanting, to see his face always before her eyes? Was it love
+to know that if he called her, as he called her now, she would leave
+home, father, mother, friends, all things, all people, and follow him to
+the world's end, to the beginning of hell, or--further? At
+one-and-twenty such questions need no answer. They belong to the
+innocent rhetoric of youth which will cry out to June, "Are you fair?"
+and to the autumnal moon in mist, "Must there be rain?" Neither June nor
+the moon make reply, but youth has no doubts. The girl, weeping tears of
+joy over Rennes's perilous words, had but one clear regret in her
+mind--she could not see him for some hours. His declaration dispelled
+the terrible bitterness, scepticism, and indifference to all sentiment
+which had gradually permeated, during their acquaintance, her whole
+heart. Repulsed affection may turn to hatred in haughty, impatient
+souls. But in Agnes it produced a moral languor--a mental indolence--the
+feeling that no one was in earnest, and nothing ought to matter. The
+more this feeling deepened, the more attentively did she observe the
+mere outward etiquette of all that passes for seriousness, attending
+scrupulously to the minor obligations of existence and exhausting her
+courage in those petty matters which die with the day and yield no
+apparent fruit. How different now seemed the colourless, harsh fabric
+which she had mistaken for duty and wrapped--as a shroud--about her
+secret hopes! She had held every aspiration implying happiness as a
+"proverb of reproach"; she had endeavoured to believe that all
+poetry--except hymns--was false prophecy leading one to hard
+entanglements and grievous falls.
+
+And what had been the impoverishment of her soul under this grim
+discipline? How could she tell the many thoughts which had travelled
+unquestioned over the highway of her heart during that process of
+disillusion? But all was changed now, and all that had been difficult,
+painful or obscure in the world seemed perfect with the inexhaustible
+glory of young passion. Rennes begged her to see him once more before he
+left England for some years. Would she meet him in Kensington Gardens?
+She had often walked there, under the old trees, with himself and Mrs.
+Rennes, and the place had become very dear, very familiar to her from
+these associations. At any other time, however, the idea of a
+clandestine meeting with David would have been intolerable. To go now
+was misery, yet she dared not stay away. The sunny morning mixed with
+her mood, which was one of determination to risk all in order to win
+all. Driven by a sense of her capabilities for endurance, she faced,
+with a kind of exultation, the possible disaster or remorse which might
+follow her action. Was there not a possible joy also? For ten days now
+she had been ill in body as well as mind; she had suffered a hard
+struggle. She knew now that she could not, could not, could not, no
+matter what happened, become the wife of Lord Reckage. The result of
+great self-delusion for so long a period was a condition of mind in
+which she was practically unable to distinguish between candour and
+disingenuousness. Any appearance of deceit--which she regarded as wrong
+in itself--always excited her scorn, but desperation now urged a step
+which might lead, she thought, to much good or much evil. That it could
+lead to more evil than a loveless marriage was not, however, to be
+feared. She started from the house with feverish cheeks, a beating
+pulse, and a new strange consciousness of power--power over herself, her
+fate, the world.
+
+Rennes was waiting for her under the long avenue of trees by the
+Lancaster Gate walk. She had a tall, stately figure of that type
+immortalised by Du Maurier--indeed, she herself may be recognised in
+some of his famous society sketches about the year 1870. The clear,
+decisive features, the tender discerning expression, the poise of the
+head, were irresistibly attractive to all artists with a strong sense of
+grace--even artificial grace--as opposed to rude vigour or homeliness.
+She possessed naturally that almost unreal elegance which many
+painters--Frederick Walker, for instance--have been accused of
+inventing.
+
+"This is very wrong of me," she said, blushing as Rennes advanced, hat
+in hand, to meet her, "very wrong. I never do these things."
+
+"I said in my letter--right or wrong it matters not--what I thought.
+This is a thing which runs up into eternity, Agnes. It had to be. We
+needn't try to justify it."
+
+"I cannot--I dare not regard it as you do."
+
+"But you have come! Let me look at you!"
+
+"Does it require much looking to see that I am really unhappy?"
+
+"I see that you are beautiful, that you are here--with me. Ah, don't be
+unhappy! When we take into account our scanty time together"--he grew
+pale at the thought--"and the danger we have just missed of losing each
+other, perhaps for ever----" She caught his hand for a second and he
+kept it.
+
+"What is to be done?" she asked, after an agitated silence. "What will
+people say? Not that I can think of _anything_ to do."
+
+"Darling, I know I have asked you to make an impossible sacrifice--to
+break off a most brilliant marriage, to marry me and share the despair,
+hardships, tortures of a life very different to any you have seen. Well
+has Goethe said--
+
+    _'Love not the sun too much, nor yet the stars,
+    Come, follow me to the realms of night.'_
+
+This is what I offer you, dearest. You can hardly realise what a
+wretched, desolate existence mine has been. Resignation is a miserable
+refuge. They say work gives one contentment, but unless one is servile
+and gives in to the spirit of the age, it is rarely understood till one
+is dead. And so the discouragement is perpetual. Even your sympathy
+would pain me at such times. I feel then--as I feel now--that I will
+grasp Fate by the throat; it shall not utterly crush me."
+
+"But," said Agnes, a little frightened at this outburst, "do you never
+think of God and His Will?"
+
+He returned her anxious glance with gloomy, almost compassionate
+amazement.
+
+"Does God think of me?" he asked. "Really, I cannot feel that the
+salvation of my soul is so important. Indeed, any idea of immortality is
+awful How could it ever be a consolation--except to a smug, very
+self-satisfied egoism? Call it the burden--or the cross of
+immortality--if you call it anything. I wish it could be proved that we
+end when we die. But physicians dissect _dead_ bodies to find the soul.
+It would not be a soul if they could find it in the dead. And imagine
+one becoming penitent when the day of grace is over!"
+
+"I keep Clement's words before me, '_The Lord who died for us is not our
+enemy_.' Surely that is a splendid thought against final despair."
+
+"Many thoughts are splendid," he replied, "if we could believe them now
+as the early Christians did in the first centuries."
+
+Agnes, with parted, whitening lips, could find no response. Rennes
+painted her afterwards in the same attitude, and with all he remembered
+of her expression, in his now famous picture, _Pilate's Wife_.
+
+"You will never be happy--never," she murmured at last. "But perhaps no
+one is happy."
+
+"I can grant that the saints were always profoundly happy. Let me tell
+you why. The state of the saint is one of dependence. His convictions,
+therefore, are enduring and unclouded. He accepts his trials as
+privileges; he loses all sense of his own identity; his humanity is
+merged in God; his ecstasies lift him up to heaven and bring him down to
+a transfigured earth. He has been bought with a ransom, and he is the
+co-heir with Christ. He is found worthy of suffering. But with artists,
+all is different. The saint is in search of holiness. The artist thinks
+chiefly of beauty. Holiness is a state of mind--it is something
+permanent. Beauty, however, mocks one half the time--it may be a
+deception. Anyhow, one cannot define it, or keep it, or even
+satisfactorily catch it. Our inspired moments, therefore, alternate with
+a miserable knowledge of our individual wretchedness. We learn that we
+are no stronger than our individuality. That is the barrier between us
+and our visions. The saint has God before his eyes, and he carries Him
+in his heart. The artist sees only himself and bears only the weight of
+his own incompetence. But these, darling, are not the things I meant to
+say to you, although they may explain my life. The common run of people
+wouldn't understand all this in the least."
+
+"I want to hear all--I want to enter into all your thoughts, David. I
+have always known that those who devote themselves to the study of what
+is sublime and beautiful suffer proportionately from the squalor of
+actual facts."
+
+She quoted from one or her father's speeches which he invariably gave
+with much earnestness at the opening of schools of art and similar
+institutions.
+
+"The world," replied Rennes, "rewards the beautiful only inasmuch as it
+flatters the senses, and the sublime remains--so far as the general
+taste is concerned--altogether without response."
+
+"But one would think," said Agnes, "that you were a disappointed or an
+unsuccessful man, whereas every one admires your genius."
+
+He laughed at her practical bent, which seemed the more fascinating
+because of her picturesque appearance.
+
+"One often feels cast down without the least cause," said he; "the truth
+is we all want more praise than we get. We are a vain lot, that's the
+trouble. Let me paint myself in the blackest colours. You must know the
+worst--you must realise the bad bargain you may make. Reckage would
+never bore and tire you in this way. How can you care for me?"
+
+"It _is_ hard!" she said, smiling.
+
+"Darling! Do you remember the white violets at Woodbridge, and sitting
+on that gate looking across that deep valley at the bonfires? Wasn't it
+perfect? Look through these trees now--see the flames and smoke? They
+are burning dead leaves and twigs. I wish I could burn my past. This may
+be a good omen for me. But I must not deceive you; that would be a bad
+beginning."
+
+"We must decide on some course," said Agnes. "Your letter was quite
+clear, but I suppose I am not going on as I ought to do. My present
+position is that of a person telling a lie to people. Before you wrote,
+however, I had made up my mind to _some_ change. I could give no good
+grounds for carrying out my engagement to Beauclerk. The motives would
+not bear examination. I intended to be patient till the way was
+mercifully cleared for me. Even birds, in cold weather, grow tame from
+distress. So I waited in a dull, frozen way for what might happen."
+
+He remembered, with a pang of remorse, that he had once called this
+devoted woman an accomplished, incurable Philistine.
+
+"I must put myself in the wrong with regard to Beauclerk," she continued
+quietly. "That is merely fair to him. Every one shall know that I have
+been weak and vacillating. May God forgive me and humble me--for I shall
+not be understood, even by many good people. But the next worst thing to
+making an error is to abide by it. Dear David, try to follow my feeling.
+It has all passed in my mind in such a way that it is impossible for me
+to describe it. In a sense, giving Reckage up seems to uproot me
+altogether from all my former life, and the future is only not a blank
+because it is such a mystery. I am sure, though, that sorrow is never in
+God's ordinance the _whole_ law of life. These are great compensations."
+
+"Anything is better than to sit still and dream," said Rennes. "I have
+dreamt too long. I find solitude oppressive. Yet you will admit how
+dreadful it is to live among those who don't know or don't care a bit
+about art."
+
+"But there are other interests equally engrossing."
+
+"Not to me. And even Epicurean advice is only the way to ignominious,
+contemptible happiness. I must have an ideal life or else
+annihilation--splendid misery or splendid content--nothing between the
+two."
+
+"You have not half showed your capabilities yet," replied Agnes. "We
+have to look upon this world as the merest pilgrimage, but we can help
+each other. I have hope because I have faith. Sara de Treverell said the
+other day that, in men, experience often makes mere callousness of
+character. Is this true, David?"
+
+"Not of me; you have saved me from the worst things. But it simply
+worries and almost exasperates me to hear religious talk from any one.
+When I hear a sermon I feel an inclination always to say, 'My dear
+fellow, can't you put your case better?' I want good stuff about Divine
+and human nature--not this vagueness and platitude. Why don't they tell
+one something about the optimism of God, even before the spectacle of
+men's weakness? But, instead, we are told to moan about this vale of
+tears; we are promised chastisements, disappointments, woes,
+persecution. A philosophy of suffering makes men strong, but a
+philosophy of despair is bound to make a generation of pleasure-seekers."
+
+"And why?"
+
+"Because the veritable world, even on its bare merits, _is not so bad_.
+It is full of beauty, and interest, and enjoyment. It is a lie to call
+it so many vile names. One's good sense revolts. Do you think, darling,
+that I could look at you, love you, be loved by you, and call life a bad
+joke?"
+
+Since the beginning of time this logic has held its own against all
+scientific criticism. The two, being secure from observation, kissed
+each other and accepted the earth with perfect cheerfulness. They made
+some plans, and after the agony of parting till the next day, each went
+home to write the other a long letter. In the course of the afternoon
+Rennes passed through Arlington Street four times in a hansom and twice
+on foot. Agnes was always at one of the windows innocently observing the
+weather. He thought her the loveliest thing created. He pitied, with
+benevolence, all other men, and he spent an hour at his solicitor's
+office, without begrudging the time, or chafing under the fatigue.
+
+Two days later Lord Reckage received the following communication from
+Miss Carillon:--
+
+     MY DEAR BEAUCLERK,--
+
+     This letter will astonish and grieve you. I have written several.
+     None please me. All say too much and yet leave all unsaid. I must
+     send this one and trust to your generosity. I am wholly to blame,
+     wholly in the wrong. I am no actress but I have been acting a
+     part--the part of a happy woman. My effort has deceived many--Papa,
+     Mamma, and, I believe, you among them. Dear Beauclerk, you will
+     think me ungrateful, false, weak. I don't excuse myself. As I have
+     said, the blame is all mine, and the punishment must be all mine.
+
+     When you receive this I shall have left England with Mr. Rennes. He
+     had arranged to go to the East for a long time. (This will show you
+     how little he anticipated any change in _my_ plans.) When I
+     realised that I should have to say goodbye to him, probably for
+     ever, I found myself unequal to the trial. I could not let him go
+     alone. It is bad for me to dwell too much on my feelings. I ought
+     to admit, however, that I have known all along, in a sort of way,
+     that I should have to give in _if he put the matter before me_. I
+     dislike the talk one hears so often about inevitability--much of it
+     is made an excuse for appalling selfishness. At the same time, I
+     understand what is meant and feel strongly, that, while I am using
+     my own will--I cannot use it, _with a good conscience_, otherwise.
+     Can you follow this? In reality, I was disloyal to Mr. Rennes when
+     I became engaged to you. I was impatient, wilful, blind. I did you
+     both an irreparable--yes, an irreparable injustice. He must always
+     think me fickle, and you will always condemn my weakness. I dare
+     not ask you to forgive me. I dare not hope for contentment after
+     such a bad beginning. One of Papa's favourite texts rings in my
+     ears--"_Is it a small thing for you to weary men, but will ye weary
+     my God also?_" I mustn't be insincere with God. But I do want you
+     to see that my affection for Mr. Rennes has taken such a hold of my
+     life that I simply cannot fight against it. I am not sentimental,
+     as you know: I can be quite as sensible as other people about life
+     and its obligations. I don't expect romance or joy. Had I, by any
+     misfortune, met Mr. Rennes _after_ my marriage with you, I cannot
+     bear to think what might have happened. It isn't nice of me to say
+     this. It is a painful, humiliating reflection, and you won't like
+     to think that you ever cared--even a little--for any one so
+     unworthy. In your kindness you will say that this isn't like me.
+     But indeed it is the real me. You have known the _un_real, sham
+     me. Every one of my friends will be surprised. I am not surprised.
+     And oh! the relief to be quite, quite natural and straightforward
+     at last. Nothing to pretend, nothing to hide. I wish you had never
+     known me. Your ideals are so noble, and you depended on me to
+     realise a few of them. I think of the plans we made, the hopes we
+     formed. Alas! they were not for me. I am going forward into the
+     darkness. I don't see one ray of light. Yet I haven't one misgiving
+     or the least fear, because I have the unalterable conviction that I
+     am fulfilling my true destiny--whatever it may be, good or evil.
+
+     All will agree that you are well rid of me. This is my consolation.
+     You have been kind, considerate, affectionate, thoughtful always.
+     And I have failed you.
+
+     Forget me, and never judge other women by me. I have been
+     exceptionally foolish.
+
+                        Your wretched friend,
+
+                                AGNES CARILLON.
+
+His lordship's emotion on reading this letter was one of relief for
+himself--but pity and terror for the girl. He was sincerely fond of
+Agnes, and the defiant misery of her words filled him with forebodings.
+But the sense of his own restored liberty soon dominated every other
+feeling; and his anxiety about Miss Carillon's future found complete
+assuagement in the thought that character, under suffering, came out
+with an energy and intensity which made, indisputably, for progress.
+
+When the news, after twenty-four hours, became known, Agnes's wish to
+place herself in the wrong, beyond sympathy, or hope of pardon, was
+freely gratified. No criticism seemed too harsh for her conduct. No
+voice was lifted in mitigation of her offence. Rennes was excused,
+because he was an artist, erratic and passionate, and she was
+unfortunately beautiful. The poor old Bishop, however, rallied under the
+shock, preached more vigorously than ever, and showed a proud
+countenance to his daughter's adversaries. When he was able to announce
+to his friends--after a painful fortnight of suspense--that the young
+couple had travelled to Rome with Mrs. Rennes, and been married at the
+English Embassy there, he gave way to a little illness and indulged his
+grief. One could surrender to legalised folly; one could name it. But
+sin and scandal could only be faced by an implacable reserve. "I may die
+of dismay," said he to his wife, "but I will not die of disgrace."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+Scandal, meanwhile, was collecting her eager forces for a great campaign
+against the Orange marriage. It was unanimously decided that the affair
+could not be hushed up. Sympathy--within wise limits--was on the side of
+the lovers, but sympathy, nevertheless, expressed a desire to hear
+fuller particulars. Society journalism was, at that time, just coming
+into vogue, and the weekly papers contained several references to the
+strange rumour of an approaching divorce. Hartley Penborough and the
+members of the Capitol Club were wondering what line they ought to take.
+They intended to stand by Robert, but they did not wish to advertise
+their loyalty. The Carlton set were divided into two camps--those who
+thought Orange unlucky, and those who thought him an alien adventurer.
+So far as these opinions touched his career, both were damaging. The
+friends of Lord Wight and Lady Fitz Rewes had always been jealous of the
+young man. They discussed him now with ferocious pity, announcing his
+ruin in every circle. Sara de Treverell's associates were mostly of the
+Diplomatic Corps. These, well informed about Alberian affairs and
+Parflete's history, feared much mischief. The old Catholics were
+dismayed at the new convert's entanglement--especially as he had
+recently been elected to Parliament. The more timorous among them--in a
+panic--entertained unfounded doubts about his orthodoxy, and the rest
+deplored the injudicious attention bestowed on mere recruits to the
+Ancient Faith. Converts then were looked upon, in England, with a
+certain suspicion. At that period the magnificent services of Dr. Newman
+and Cardinal Manning were far more appreciated at Rome than they were in
+the drawing-rooms of English Catholic society. Orange, following his own
+instincts and the advice of Newman, avoided rather than sought the small
+group which attempted to make the Eternal Church a Select Committee of
+the Uncommonly Good. To one who had spent his youth in a great Catholic
+nation, and came himself from one of the princely families of France,
+the servitude necessarily involved by the fact of joining any
+_coterie_--no matter how agreeable--could possess no sort of attraction.
+His Catholic friends were chiefly among the Jesuits, an order which, by
+devotion, genius, and courage, has excited that fear from all men which
+is the highest homage this world can offer to integrity. His personal
+sorrow, therefore, was not degraded by any foolish additional worry
+about the tittle-tattle of this, that, or the other personage. Tongues
+might wag; for himself, he could but do his duty and keep his account
+straight with God. He hoped that a public law-suit would be avoided.
+Baron Zeuill was using his influence, so he declared, to arrive at some
+settlement with Parflete. Parflete's agent was now in communication with
+Robert's solicitors; he himself was known to be in London, and he had
+even been seen dining with foreigners at one of the small private hotels
+near the Strand. The Alberian Ambassador informed Mr. Disraeli that
+there was nothing to fear because Parflete was not ambitious. "The
+corruption of egoism and the insatiable love of pleasure" had done its
+worst to a character never striking for its energy. He would "desert"
+his wife again if she would give him a sufficient sum. Mrs. Parflete,
+Disraeli pointed out, was the last woman on earth to agree to such
+terms. She was also perfectly well aware, he added, that she was the
+legitimate daughter of the late Archduke Charles.
+
+"But," said the Ambassador, "surely she will love the glory of her
+country and the respect due to her Imperial father's memory far better
+than her own legal rights?"
+
+"You can't narrow the question to a mere sentimental issue," said
+Disraeli. "It is no such thing. She has to defend her character. Orange
+must clear his reputation."
+
+Disraeli had formed the opinion that Alberia--as represented by His
+Excellency--was by no means anxious to see Mrs. Parflete's innocence
+established; that, in fact, the whole disaster had been planned and
+executed in the sole design of compromising her status. All that had
+occurred, all that he had observed led him to this conviction more and
+more. It was decided that Brigit should be summoned at once from Paris
+to take up her residence at the Convent, where she had been well
+protected during the earlier part of the year.
+
+     "There is to be no appeal _ad misericordiam_," wrote Disraeli to
+     Orange: "what you have done, you have done in good faith and
+     perfect honesty. Parflete, beyond a doubt, will take some action.
+     His conscience provides him, in this difficulty, with the best
+     means of self-advertisement he has yet found. He has consulted
+     several Bishops, the Lord Chief Justice, all the ambassadors, and
+     most of the intelligent Peers. He wanders from one confessional to
+     another: St. Philip, St. Teresa, St. Benedict, and St. Dominic are
+     invoked perpetually for the disarmament of his scruples. Vanity
+     blinds him to the danger of assassination. Alberia is in a red
+     mood. _Carissime_, the dark, inevitable hour will come. Be prepared
+     for it. Depend entirely now on the might of your religious belief.
+     Men cannot assist you. I have helped many, but no one has ever
+     helped me. Political life must be taken as you find it, and it is
+     neither in my disposition, nor, I am sure, in yours, to indulge in
+     complaints of unkindness. I have reached a point now when I should
+     like to quote Dante. Consider him quoted, and believe me,
+
+                        "Ever yours,
+
+                                "D."
+
+The course of the intrigue may be followed most conveniently at this
+point in the document known as Mudara's Confession.
+
+Mudara, it will be remembered, was in the Alberian Secret
+Service.[Footnote: See The School for Saints, p. 395.] He it was who
+confirmed the false news of Parflete's suicide, and did so much to
+hasten Orange's marriage. He says in his narrative:--
+
+     The death of the Archduke Charles--which occurred some weeks before
+     it was anticipated--put the Alberian Government to very grave
+     embarrassment.
+
+     1. It was impossible to deny the legitimacy of the Archduchess
+     Marie-Brigitte-Henriette (known as Mrs. Parflete). The rumour was
+     officially denied, and every proper measure was taken for the
+     suppression of a fact dangerous at all times and especially so
+     during a national crisis. Had the Archduchess been so ill-advised
+     as to stand upon her legal rights, the case would have been very
+     awkward for the Government. They intended, in any event, to plead
+     ignorance, and had prepared every proof of their good faith in
+     withstanding the claim.
+
+     2. It was clear, beyond a doubt, on the highest ecclesiastical
+     authority, that, if application were made, the marriage between the
+     Archduchess and Parflete would be annulled at Rome. Parflete was
+     regarded with great suspicion. He was capable of any treachery. He
+     could not hold his tongue, and we know what that means at Court.
+     The one person he feared was the Archduke Charles, and now that
+     death had removed His Imperial Highness, we understood what to
+     expect from the disgraced Equerry.
+
+     3. The Government's Agents had formed a very high opinion of M. de
+     Hausée (known as Robert Orange). It was considered by the
+     Government's advisers that this gentleman would use all his
+     influence to crush any foolish ambition on the part of the
+     Archduchess Marie-Brigitte. M. de Hausée was himself of too noble a
+     family to care in the least for high-sounding titles or empty
+     rights. M. de Hausée (whose mother was Scotch) had become a British
+     subject, and had been elected to the English Parliament. He was
+     under the protection of Mr. Disraeli, had every prospect of a
+     brilliant political career as a Commoner, and he had too much good
+     sense--in view of the very large fortune settled upon the
+     Archduchess--to diminish it by any imprudent insistence on a claim
+     which, extremely valuable as a ground for some advantageous
+     compromise, could only prove ruinous if pressed to any exact
+     recognition. The Government's advisers, therefore, approved most
+     highly of the marriage between M. de Hausée and the Archduchess
+     Marie-Brigitte-Henriette, and were disposed to hasten it on by
+     every means. On the news, _properly authenticated_, of Parflete's
+     suicide on Lord Soham's yacht, I visited England and had interviews
+     with the Archduchess herself, with M. de Hausée at Catesby, and
+     with Baron Zeuill at Claridge's Hotel. The _proofs_ of Parflete's
+     death were in perfect order, and the marriage between M. de Hausée
+     and H.I.H. took place in the Chapel of the Alberian Embassy.
+
+     As I had made all the arrangements, I engaged the servants for the
+     reception of the bride and groom at the Villa Miraflores. I was
+     able to retain a small room at the back of the house for my own
+     use. On the day of their arrival, I concealed myself, without
+     difficulty, in the apartment where Mr. Orange and the Archduchess
+     had their _déjeuner_. It was an unfortunate circumstance that I did
+     not destroy the telegram which I saw on the mantel-piece. But I
+     supposed it contained some ordinary congratulations. A more vulgar
+     prudence than mine would have read and burnt it in any case. My
+     fault is, unquestionably, a most inopportune delicacy of feeling. I
+     witnessed the whole scene between Mr. Orange and Her Imperial
+     Highness. It brought tears to my eyes, but as evidence it was
+     valueless for my purpose. She wept, stormed, and showed much
+     feeling. I was reminded in many ways of her mother, Madame Duboc.
+     M. de Hausée, of purer blood, is like those players who, in spite
+     of an air of indifference at great losses, feel them none the less.
+     I consider it my duty as a gentleman to say that his bearing
+     through the ordeal did credit to his noble family and his personal
+     character. The Archduchess, who is foolhardy and insolent, does not
+     deserve such a lover, and it is grievous to think that such a
+     termagant should have so much power over such a man. I regard her
+     as I would some poisonous reptile. Piety--which improves most
+     women--only seems to render her the more defiant, and love--which
+     softens most wills--makes hers the more hard. After parting with M.
+     de Hausée she swooned, and I thought what a merciful thing it would
+     be for all of us if she never regained consciousness. This
+     idea--which may have been an inspiration--was before me, when I
+     heard a slight rustling behind the curtains. I pulled out my
+     revolver (although I had no intention of firing), aimed it, and
+     said, "Who is there?"
+
+     To my amazement, Parflete himself came out.
+
+     "For God's sake, don't shoot," said he, "it is I."
+
+     He cried bitterly at the sight of the Archduchess--for she was
+     looking extraordinarily beautiful. He cursed himself loudly, put me
+     to terrible anxiety, and I repented of my recklessness in not
+     getting rid of such a fool long ago. With great presence of mind I
+     rang the bell, and we withdrew to my hiding-place while the
+     servant came in, raised a hue and cry, and finally carried the
+     insensible Archduchess to a bedroom. When the coast was clear we
+     emerged. I asked Parflete what he meant to do, why he was there,
+     and how he had got into the house.
+
+     "To sound the soul of another," said he, still maudlin. "You must
+     first have searched deeply your own. Remorse has brought me here.
+     My better nature reasserts itself." And more to that effect. "There
+     is nothing new under the sun!" he wound up.
+
+     "Why should there be?" said I, exasperated. "Come to the point."
+
+     "My wife is the purest, noblest of beings!" said he.
+
+     "You will defend any jade on earth, provided she be handsome," said
+     I, but seeing an ugly light in his eye, I added, "but H.I.H. is
+     certainly respectable. To this we have both been witnesses."
+
+     "What is to be done?" he cried, beating his head. "Can I forget her
+     interests? Who, better than I, should take the place of her
+     adviser, her Prime Minister? Affairs in Alberia cannot long remain
+     in this violent state. There must be a _dénouement_."
+
+     I answered him sharply.
+
+     "You know quite well that the Archduchess can never hope for
+     official recognition from any Alberian Ministry--let alone the
+     sovereigns of Europe. An aggressive attitude on her part could at
+     most and at the worst, but lead to these things--a change of
+     dynasty, and the annexation of Alberia by one of the Powers, or its
+     partition among some of them. We wish Alberia to become another
+     Switzerland--a little Paradise of law-abiding, industrious, rich,
+     independent people!"
+
+     "All the same," said he, "my wife may not sell her birth-right.
+     Such a proceeding is directly opposite to the Will of God."
+
+     "She will be a good claimant--after all this scandal with the
+     Carlists and de Hausée," said I. "I can imagine the welcome
+     extended to her by Bismarck! We have seen enough of this kind of
+     thing in France and Spain."
+
+     We talked for an hour. He was as obstinate as a mule and as
+     incoherent as running water. I could grasp him nowhere. It was like
+     groping in a well for a lighted torch. No doubt he had formed in
+     his own mind some obscure, incalculable intrigue, but no reason can
+     guess the plans which are made by an unreasoning person.
+
+     "The Archduchess is rich, young, and handsome," said I; "it would
+     be folly to change her noble independence for a political slavery
+     fatal to her peace--perhaps her life."
+
+     "But duty is above such weak considerations," said he, rolling his
+     eyes. "My wife must remember the nation."
+
+     "Do you believe," I rejoined, "that you would get the nation's
+     sanction to the general upset which you propose? You must be mad."
+
+     "Nations go mad," said he, smiling; "why not to my advantage, then,
+     as well as yours?"
+
+     He refused to tell me how he got into the house, but it must have
+     been by bribery. His sneers and insults were insinuated with such
+     skill that retaliation on the spot was impossible. He made his
+     escape by suddenly extinguishing the lamp, which left the room in
+     pitch darkness. I felt it would be undignified to stumble about in
+     vain pursuit of a man so active and so _canaille_ in all his
+     methods. He must have been on good terms with the servants, for a
+     considerable time elapsed before they replied to my summons, and
+     when I asked them, each in turn, whether he had been seen, one and
+     all assumed the greatest astonishment and innocence, but none
+     appeared in any way alarmed, which they must have done had they not
+     been well aware of his presence in the house. I said no more, for,
+     by treating the matter lightly, I made them look--to
+     themselves--dupes and very ridiculous. I remained at the Villa
+     until the Archduchess and Lady Fitz Rewes departed for Paris. I had
+     a short interview with M. de Hausée in my character of the late
+     Archduke's Agent. Our conversation was purely in connection with
+     H.I.H.'s money matters, although he said with great firmness at the
+     close, "The Archduchess will never embarrass Alberian affairs. Her
+     taste is not for Courts or politics." I know this is his true
+     conviction, but he is in love, and he measures her by his own
+     unselfishness. He won my heart strangely. In all my experience, he
+     is the one honest man who is not a little idiotic into the bargain.
+     I deplore the influence of women on such a character, and I would
+     have saved him from that Judith.
+
+Here, for the present, we must leave Mudara's narrative.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+The Alberian Ambassador, Prince d'Alchingen, considered himself a
+diplomatist of the Metternich school. He had imagination,
+sentimentality, and humour: he preferred to attack the strength rather
+than the weaknesses of mankind, and in all his schemes he counted
+inconsistency among the passions, and panic among the virtues. He still
+hoped that Orange might be tempted by the prospect of immediate
+happiness to press for the nullity of the Parflete marriage. Parflete
+himself was indulging in the most extravagant demonstrations of remorse.
+He behaved, as Disraeli said, more like a cunning woman than an able
+man, and he was an agent of the kind most dangerous to his
+employers--irregularly scrupulous, fond of boasting of his acquaintance
+with princes and ministers, so vain that he would rather have had
+notoriety without glory, than glory without notoriety. He had found the
+means of ingratiating himself with many persons of high rank, and he
+knew how to avail himself, with each, of his influence with the others.
+Never did an intrigue require more urgently a sort of conduct quite out
+of the common routine. The Prince, therefore, was much perturbed in
+mind, and cast about him for a trustworthy associate. By an associate he
+meant some one on whom he could test the quality of his deceit--in other
+words, he liked to try his sword on gossamer and granite before he
+struck out at commoner materials. Among his friendships, he prosecuted
+none with such zeal as that with the Lady Sara de Treverell. As the
+member of a great Russian house, she was especially attractive to
+Alberian speculation, but her beauty and cleverness no doubt assisted
+the Ambassador's determination to make himself agreeable. The two
+constantly exchanged letters, and, as the Princess d'Alchingen was an
+invalid who devoted her hours to spiritual reading, she gladly permitted
+Lady Sara's influence, realising--with the priceless knowledge of a
+spirit made reasonable through pain--that the girl was romantic and the
+Prince incurably old. His flaxen wig heightened the tone of a complexion
+much ravaged by gout and its antidotes. His nebulous eyes with twitching
+lids were not improved by the gold-rimmed glasses which magnified their
+insignificance. He possessed a striking nose and chin, but, as these
+features were more characteristic than delightful, they offered his wife
+no occasions for serious anxiety. Whenever His Excellency required
+feminine advice, it was considered quite _en règle_ that Lady Sara
+should be consulted. The Princess herself drove him to St. James's
+Square on the afternoon following Mr. Disraeli's call. She sent _milles
+tendresses_ to her _chérie_, and bitterly regretted that she was not
+well enough to leave the carriage. The Prince kissed her hand, bowed
+superbly, stood bareheaded in a draught till the brougham drove away (in
+these matters he had no equal), and, having warned Sara of his intended
+visit by a special messenger, he had the pleasure of finding the young
+lady alone. Following her custom, she was appropriately dressed for the
+occasion in prune-coloured velvet, which suggested dignity, and very
+beautiful antique Spanish lace, which symbolized the long endurance of
+things apparently too delicate, subtle, and trifling for the assaults of
+time. The Prince kissed both of her white hands, and lamented the
+obstacles which had kept them apart for so many insupportable weeks. He
+had lived on her letters. They had been, however, few and short.
+
+"What is troubling you, sir?" asked Sara, "you look pale."
+
+"For once in my life I wish to do a foolish thing--_pour encourager les
+autres_," was his reply. "I intend to meddle with a love-affair."
+
+"Whose love-affair?"
+
+"I will tell you presently. I never venture upon any work trusting alone
+to my hopes. I am not of those who discover rifts in their harness only
+on the morning of the battle! I prepare for all contingencies. First,
+then, let me put you through a little catechism. Do men ever believe
+evil reports about the women they love?"
+
+"The _posse non peccare_ is not the _non posse peccare_," said Sara
+quickly.
+
+"Do you mean that they can believe the evil, but, as a rule, they
+won't?" returned the Prince.
+
+"You translate freely, but you have caught the spirit!"
+
+"Very well. I come to my second question. Is a man better off with a
+dangerous woman whom he adores than with a good woman who adores _him_?"
+
+"All men who desire love, deserve it," said Sara. "The _means_ to this
+are always, in a manner, certainties, the _end_ is always problematical.
+But those who want love could never be satisfied with mere
+welfare--never."
+
+"You have a right to direct my opinion," he exclaimed; "where else do I
+hear such sound good sense? The usual women one meets in our circle are
+old, ugly, and proud--incapable of conversation with persons of
+intelligence. My wife," he added smoothly, "makes this complaint about
+her lady friends. It is very dull and very sad for her, although she is
+a saint."
+
+No conversation or letter was ever exchanged between Sara and the Prince
+without some emphatic tribute to the sanctity, prudence, and charm of
+the Princess.
+
+"The dear Princess!" murmured Sara.
+
+"And now," said His Excellency, drawing his chair an inch nearer, "I
+must be serious. You have guessed, of course, that I am thinking about
+Robert Orange and Mrs. Parflete. I stayed at Brookes's till after twelve
+last night in hopes of seeing Orange. I was discussing him with Lord
+Reckage."
+
+"What did Reckage say?"
+
+"Reckage doesn't mind raising a blister, but he won't often tell one
+what he thinks."
+
+Sara shivered a little and compressed her lips.
+
+"Reckage is fond of Orange," she said, "yet there is a certain
+jealousy.... Formerly, Orange had need of Reckage, and depended on him;
+now Reckage needs him and depends on Orange. Could he but know it,
+Orange is the one creature who could pull him through his difficulties
+with the Bond of Association. A man who has no personal ambition, who
+desires nothing that any one can give, who fears nothing that any one
+can do, who lives securely in the presence of God, is a power we must
+not under-rate."
+
+She spoke with enthusiasm--the enthusiasm which women seldom, if ever,
+display for principle on its bare merits. By the deepening colour in her
+eyes and sudden clearness in her cheeks, the Ambassador felt that he had
+reached a point where the emotions would have to be considered, even
+though they might not be counted on.
+
+"I have not time to tell you all the nonsense Reckage said," he
+answered. "So far as my own judgment can serve for a guide, I believe
+that he would like to see Orange under the care and discipline of St.
+Ignatius."
+
+"He wishes him to become a Jesuit priest? How selfish!"
+
+"Such is my impression. He wants so competent a colleague removed from
+the political sphere. If his words and actions are of a piece, he will
+certainly work hard to attain this object. He is saying everywhere,
+'Orange is a born ecclesiastic. Orange is a mystic. Orange is under the
+influence of Newman. Orange begins to see that marriage is not for him.'
+Such remarks don't help outside the Church. Really, competition renders
+the nicest people detestable."
+
+Lady Sara could not conceal her agitation. But she baffled her companion
+a little by saying--
+
+"I suppose you want Orange to marry your inopportune Archduchess?"
+
+"The lady in question is certainly inopportune. I have never called her
+an Archduchess. I leave such audacities to her enemies! But tell me what
+you think of _Mrs. Parflete_?"
+
+"I have never seen her. Pensée Fitz Rewes insists that she is beautiful,
+cold, determined, and uncommon."
+
+"Generally, there is nothing so fatal to a woman's success in the world
+as an early connection with a scoundrel. I have odd accounts of Mrs.
+Parflete from Madrid--the Marquis of Castrillon and an upstart called
+Bodava fought a duel about her in Baron Zeuill's gymnasium. A man called
+William Caffle, who attended to their wounds, has given me fullest
+particulars of the affair. I don't wish to injure the lady, but on
+account of eventualities which might arise, I am obliged to look a
+little about me."
+
+"I understand," said Sara.
+
+"The great point is not to let Parflete take the lead in the settlement.
+His present course of action isn't quite decent or consistent. Will
+Orange do nothing? It is wise to make peace whilst there is some faint
+appearance of choice left on the subject, so there is no time to be
+wasted."
+
+"What ought Orange to do?"
+
+"Reckage declares that he will not appeal to Rome. There he is
+well-advised. But as he has already compromised Mrs. Parflete, surely
+his present scruples are entirely new and unlooked for? We must both
+despise him, if he should abandon her now."
+
+"He has never compromised her," said Sara indignantly. "He has even been
+ridiculed for his honour. I had no idea, Excellence, that you were so
+wicked!"
+
+"How else could I know all the news twenty-four hours before the rest of
+the world? This, however, is no laughing matter. Parflete may ask his
+wife to return to him. It may suit her purpose to agree."
+
+"What! A woman who loves, or who has loved--Robert Orange? A few things
+in human nature are still impossible."
+
+Prince d'Alchingen shrugged his shoulders, and continued--
+
+"Parflete has a good back-stairs knowledge of Alberian politics. We
+never deny this, but we always add that he was dismissed, in disgrace,
+from the Imperial Household."
+
+"Is there much use in denying the fact that he married the Archduke's
+daughter?"
+
+"We meet the case by saying that the Archduke in his youth may not have
+been exempt from manly follies. And Duboc was irresistible--she drove
+one mad!"
+
+"Then why all this fuss?"
+
+"To avoid more fuss--on a large scale."
+
+"But I have always heard that Mrs. Parflete has no intention of giving
+trouble. They say she is an angel."
+
+"You will find that she would far rather be an Archduchess! Orange may
+discover that his Beatrice is nearly related to Rahab!"
+
+"Oh, I cannot think you are right."
+
+"Then you should hear Zeuill and General Prim on the subject. The
+Marquis of Castrillon is in London. Our friend Parflete will soon be
+labouring with copious materials for a divorce."
+
+"How can you assume such horrors?" said Sara.
+
+"The imagination," said His Excellency, "is always more struck by
+likelihoods than the reason convinced by the examination of facts! My
+dear friend, let us survey the position. Orange does not seem to have
+the most distant idea of making Mrs. Parflete his--his _belle amie_.
+Well and good. But ought he, at his age, so handsome, so brilliant, so
+much a man, to renounce all other women for the sake of a little
+adventuress? Can nothing be done? If he could have some convincing proof
+of her treachery, would he not turn to others more beautiful, more
+worthy----"
+
+"To Lady Fitz Rewes," said Sara quickly.
+
+"If you like," replied the Prince, in his gentlest voice.
+
+For a second or two each of them looked away. Sara glanced toward her
+canaries in their cage. Prince d'Alchingen leant forward to inhale the
+perfume of some violets in a vase near him.
+
+"Delicious!" he murmured, "delicious!"
+
+"Mr. Disraeli," said Sara, still gazing at the birds, "has always wished
+for the marriage with Lady Fitz Rewes. Yet what can we do? I cannot see
+the end of it."
+
+"The heroic are plotted against by evil spirits, comforted by good ones,
+but in no way constrained," observed the Ambassador; "let us then
+support Mr. Orange, and wait for his own decision. I doubt whether we
+could drive him to Lady Fitz Rewes."
+
+"To whom else?" asked Sara, fastening some flowers in her belt. They
+were white camellias sent that morning from the infatuated, still
+hopeful Duke of Marshire. "To whom else--if not Pensée?"
+
+"I dare not answer such questions yet. Have patience and you shall see
+what you shall see. Much will hinge on the events of the next few days."
+
+"I will not believe," she insisted, "that Robert Orange has been
+deceived by that woman."
+
+"You may change your opinion. Come to Hadley Lodge next Saturday--I ask
+no more."
+
+"Really, sir," said Sara, with a mocking smile, "you frighten me. Am I
+at last to fly through an intrigue on the wings of a conspiracy?"
+
+The Prince smiled also, but he saw that the lady had risen to the
+occasion and would not prove false to her Asiatic blood.
+
+"Mrs. Parflete and Castrillon are cut out for each other," said he, "but
+Orange has no business in that _galère_. He is reserved for a greater
+fate."
+
+"What do you mean?" said Sara.
+
+"All now depends on you."
+
+"On me?"
+
+"Plainly. Reckage wishes Orange to get out of his way and become a
+Religious. Can this be permitted?"
+
+"It would be outrageous. It would be a crime."
+
+"Ah, worse than that. It might prove a success. We don't want any more
+strong men in the Church just now."
+
+Sara agreed. She, too, was opposed to the Church. And she was glad of
+the excuse this thought offered for the pains she would take to save
+Orange from the Vatican grasp.
+
+"Then we are allies," said His Excellency. "You will help me."
+
+"Gladly, and what is more, as a duty. But how?"
+
+"Keep the two men apart, and treat both of them--both--with kindness."
+
+His Excellency then rose, kissed her hands once more, and took his
+departure. Sara, when the door was closed, paced the floor with swift
+and desperate steps, as though she were encircled by thoughts which,
+linked together, danced round her way so that whether she retreated or
+advanced, swayed to the right or to the left, they held her fast.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+Lord Garrow, under his daughter's command, had issued invitations for a
+dinner-party that same evening to a few friends, who, it was hoped,
+would support the Meeting which Reckage was endeavouring to organise as
+a protest against Dr. Temple's nomination. The guests included Reckage
+himself, Orange, Charles Aumerle, the Dowager Countess of Larch, Hartley
+Penborough, Lady Augusta Hammit, and the Bishop of Calbury's
+chaplain,--the Rev. Edwin Pole-Knox.
+
+Sara, arrayed in white satin and opals, sat at the piano playing the
+_Faust_ of Berlioz, and wondering whether she had really arranged her
+table to perfection, when the footman brought the following note--dashed
+off in pencil--from Lord Reckage:--
+
+                                ALMOUTH HOUSE.
+
+     An extraordinary thing has happened. Agnes has run away with David
+     Rennes. She seems quite broken and her letter is too touching, too
+     sacred to show. As for him, it is difficult to say what he could
+     give, or what I would accept, as an excuse. She, however, has my
+     full forgiveness, and perhaps good may come of so much sorrow and
+     duplicity. I must see you after the others have gone to-night. My
+     plan is to leave early--probably with Orange and Aumerle, but I
+     will return later. I need your counsel. B.
+
+Sara, who was always in league with audacity, clapped her hands at the
+tidings of Miss Carillon's bold move. She was not surprised, for, as we
+have seen, she had read the girl's character truly, and warned Orange
+that some event of the kind would happen. But the pleasure she took in
+this confirmation of her own prophetic gifts was alloyed by the fear
+that Reckage, now at liberty, would prove a masterful, jealous, and
+embarrassing lover. Nor were her forebodings on this score lessened when
+he arrived, evidently in a strange mood, a quarter of an hour before the
+appointed time. His eyes travelled over her face with a consuming
+scrutiny to which she was unaccustomed and for which she found herself
+unprepared. For a moment she experienced the disadvantages of a guilty
+conscience, and although she had, so far, merely considered various
+plans for using his devotion without peril to her own independence, she
+felt that the moment for deliberation was past, that the duel between
+them had begun.
+
+"You have my note," he said, "and I would rather not talk about Agnes
+to-night. On that point I am in a stupor. I can't realise the disaster
+at all. I might seem unfeeling, whereas I am insensible, or unconscious,
+or mentally chloroformed--anything you like to call it."
+
+"I can see that you have received a great blow," answered Sara, looking
+down.
+
+"I suppose so. And at present I am stunned. Wait a week, and I may be
+able to grasp the case--I won't say calmly, for I couldn't be calmer
+than I am at this very moment. But I will say, with understanding, with
+justice. Give me no credit yet for either. To be frank, I don't
+recognise myself in this crisis. As a rule, I have an impulse--more or
+less violent--to some extreme measure.... I saw d'Alchingen this
+afternoon," he added, abruptly.
+
+He did not add that the Prince had given several striking reasons for
+the Lady Sara's interest in Robert Orange. His Excellency, in so acting,
+may not have been aware that he was pouring such confidences into the
+ear of a jealous man, but he wished to divert gossip from himself, and
+he was becoming afraid lest his intimacy with the brilliant, dangerous
+girl might give rise to criticism. "She talks and writes incessantly
+about Orange," he had said; "what a marriage it would be! I hope it may
+be brought about." This suggestion drove Reckage's thoughts toward a
+fatal survey of the past year. He discovered, as he believed,
+irresistible proofs of Sara's infatuation, and, what was worse, clear
+evidence of Robert's sly encouragement of that weakness. Why else had he
+borne the severance from Mrs. Parflete with such astonishing fortitude?
+How else did he keep up his spirits in the face of a grotesque, if
+unfortunate, adventure? The answer was plain enough. Sara's sympathy
+and the reasonable hopes necessarily attached to so much kindness had
+sustained him through the bitterness of all his trials.
+
+"Have you ever thought," said Reckage, with pretended carelessness,
+"that Orange's serenity just now is somewhat unnatural? Is it _all_
+religion?"
+
+"I believe that neither of _us_ can form any conception of his capacity
+for suffering, or the support he finds in his Belief."
+
+"It points to fanaticism, no doubt. He is a Cardinal _in petto_. The
+Catholics want spirit everywhere, and Orange has got spirit. His
+vocation lies toward the Vatican. His morals are as good as his
+build--which is saying much. D'Alchingen was remarking how
+extraordinarily well set-up he is. He would have done well in the army.
+He cuts an effective figure."
+
+"He is distinguished; would one call him handsome?"
+
+"There's a nobility about him, of course. I am wondering whether he is
+really so clever as many make out. He is learned and thoughtful; he has
+plenty of pluck and he's the best fellow in the world. But----"
+
+"I wish I knew him better," sighed the young lady; "I liked him and
+believed in him on the strength of your recommendation. That was an
+immense prejudice in his favour."
+
+She looked up with a sweet and trustful smile which would have satisfied
+a harder adversary than Reckage. He was not so hard, however, as he was
+egoistic, and it was not a question of softening his heart. Sara had the
+far more difficult task of soothing his tortured vanity.
+
+"I don't know," he said, losing caution, "that I want you to take him up
+quite so strongly! No one could call him a coxcomb, yet he, not aware of
+the real cause of your interest, might be over-flattered. He might,
+eventually, begin to hope----"
+
+"What?" she asked, with burning cheeks.
+
+"All sorts of things. He's a man, and you are beautiful. And I have
+heard him say a thousand times that so-called Platonics are possible for
+one of the two, but never for both. Doesn't this explain the many cases
+of unrequited love? You are vexed, I can see it. But I am not thinking
+of you. I am thinking of Robert."
+
+"He is not so sentimental as you imagine."
+
+"Isn't he? This affair with Mrs. Parflete was pure sentimentality from
+beginning to end--a poet's love. He would have another feeling for
+you--something much stronger. You are so human, Sara. I would far sooner
+kill you than write poetry to you. You are life--not literature. That
+little thing with shining hair and a porcelain face is for dreams. Of
+course, he will always love her--after a fashion. He might even compare
+you with her and find her your superior in every way--except as a
+woman. We may be at moments poets, at moments saints, but the greater
+part of the time, a man is a man. And you are no friend for a man.
+Pensée Fitz Rewes might answer well enough; she has had sorrow, she has
+two children, she has a gentle, maternal air. But you----"
+
+He threw back his head and laughed without mirth.
+
+"You!" he repeated. "My God!"
+
+"You are talking very foolishly, Beauclerk. Perhaps it is your odd way
+of making yourself agreeable. It doesn't please me a bit to be told that
+I am a siren. My mind is full of the Bond of Association and your
+Meeting at St. James's Hall. How shamefully Lord Cavernake has behaved,
+but dear Lord Gretingham has come out well. What a miserable set we have
+in the Lords just now!"
+
+She was making these remarks as the clock struck the hour, and her
+father entered the room.
+
+"Beauclerk came early, dear papa," said she, "because he had something
+to tell us. His engagement is broken off."
+
+Lord Garrow looked the grief appropriate to the news, and disguised, as
+well as he could, his dismay at its probable development. He murmured,
+"Tut! tut!" a number of times, held up his hands, and nodded his head
+from side to side.
+
+"I wish nothing said against poor Agnes," observed Reckage; "her
+mistakes are those of a generous, impetuous girl. Don't judge her
+hastily. All, I feel certain, has happened for the best."
+
+"Tut! tut!" repeated his lordship.
+
+"I am devoted to dear Agnes," said Sara, "but I never, never thought
+that she was the wife for Beauclerk."
+
+Then she stepped forward to greet Lady Augusta Hammit, who was at that
+moment announced. Lady Augusta was a tall woman about thirty-five years
+of age, with a handsome, sallow face, a superb neck, beautiful arms,
+hair the colour of ashes, pale lips, and large, gleaming white teeth.
+Unmarried, aristocratic, ordinarily well-off, and exceptionally pious
+according to her lights, she was a prominent figure in all work
+connected with the Moderate Party in the Church of England. In her
+opinion, foreigners might be permitted the idolatries of Rome; as for
+the English, Wesley was a lunatic; Pusey, a weak good creature; Newman
+was a traitor; Manning, a mistake. The one vital force on whom she
+depended for her spiritual illumination and her life's security was the
+Rev. Edwin Pole-Knox. "Pole-Knox," she said, "will save us yet." This
+good and industrious young man, a few years her junior, had been
+chaplain--mainly through Lady Augusta's devoted exertions--to three
+bishops. He did every credit to his patroness, but hints were already in
+the air on the subject of ingratitude. Some said he lacked ambition;
+others murmured dark conjectures about his heartlessness. It was left
+to the Lady Augusta's fellow-labourers in the sphere of beneficence to
+blurt out, with odious vulgarity, that he would never marry her in this
+world. She entered the room that evening in her haughtiest manner, for
+Pole-Knox was following close upon her heels, and she wished to justify
+the extreme deference which he showed her so properly in public, and
+perhaps with morbid conscientiousness in _tête-à-tête_.
+
+"I don't know how I shall get through the winter," she observed, in
+reply to Lord Garrow's inquiries about her health. "I am working like a
+pack-horse." Here she caught Pole-Knox's name and bowed mechanically,
+without seeing him, in his direction. The entire afternoon they had been
+looking together over the accounts of a Home for Female Orphans, and
+poor Lady Augusta had been forced to see that whatever fire and
+enthusiasm her _protégé_ could display in tracking down the orphans'
+dishonest butcher, his respect where she was concerned verged on
+frigidity.
+
+Lady Larch was the next arrival, and as she was famous for her smile,
+she used it freely, not fatiguing herself by listening to remarks, or
+making them. In her youth she had been called bonnie; she was still
+pleasant to look upon. She talked very little, and perhaps on this
+account her few sayings were treasured, repeated throughout society,
+and much esteemed. "Surely it is a mistake to give men the notion that
+all good women are dull" was one of her classic utterances. Another ran,
+"Those who are happy do not trouble about the woes of the human race."
+Another, "The Dissenters belong essentially to a non-governing class--a
+vulgar class." These will serve to show the scope of her observation and
+the excellence of her intentions. In fact, she was often found dull. She
+was not especially disturbed about the woes of humanity, and her
+maternal grandfather had been a Presbyterian cotton-merchant. She bore
+Pole-Knox away to a far corner and begged to be told all the latest
+details of Miss Carillon's abominable conduct.
+
+"I do not exactly know," said she, "the state of things. The poor dear
+Bishop must be in a dreadful state."
+
+Orange came in with Aumerle and Hartley Penborough. Lady Augusta, who
+was a kind, sincere woman, pressed his hand warmly, and showed with her
+eyes that she appreciated the difficulties of his position. He had aged,
+Sara thought, and he looked as though he suffered from sleeplessness;
+otherwise, in manner and in all ways, he was just as he had always been.
+
+Sara looked at him, and, looking, she read the secret thoughts in his
+mind. Yes, she was to him, no doubt, the undisciplined, passionate girl
+who lived on admiration, excitement, and false romance. He owned her
+beauty; he excused her faults; he liked her. Of all this she was
+certain. Reckage's warning had encouraged her to believe that Orange's
+self-control was a hard achievement--by no means any matter of a
+disposition naturally cold. If it were merely to be a struggle of wills,
+her will would prove the stronger. She meant to have her way this time.
+Wasn't it the critical moment of his life? Every instinct had been
+roused--ambition, the love of adventure, the love of a woman. For a
+short while the means had been given him, humanly speaking, of
+gratifying these great passions. And then, at a stroke, he was once more
+poor and dependent, once more in a ridiculous position, and the woman he
+loved was further from his reach than ever. He still had the privilege
+of fighting and breaking his heart in the market-place. He could still
+enjoy some kind of a career. Yet the long, embittering struggle with
+poverty and disappointed affection could but appear to him now desolate
+indeed, barely worth the difficult prizes of success. Lady Sara was
+young, and she made the mistake, eternally peculiar to her sex, of
+placing love first, rather than last, among the forces in a strong
+nature. No powerful being ever yet either stood by the glory, or fell by
+the disasters, of a love-affair alone, uncomplicated by other issues. It
+does its work: it must touch, in many ways, the whole character; but it
+is, in the essence of things, a cause--not an effect. To Sara there was
+one only consuming interest in life--love. All her talents were directed
+to the gaining, understanding, and keeping of this wonderful human
+mystery. She wanted wild scenes and ungovernable emotions: she was
+beautiful enough to figure in such situations, and fascinating enough to
+indulge in such crises without offence to the artistic proprieties. But
+she had resolved that the hero of her existence must, at least, look his
+part. No one denied that Orange had a remarkable personality. Every one
+admitted that he was clever. These were the sternest estimates of his
+claim to social recognition. But she knew him to be a de Hausée. She
+thought him superbly handsome. She had Disraeli's opinion that he was a
+genius. Here was a case where love would not have to be blind. Love, in
+this case, could defy the scornful and the proud. At last she could say,
+"My fate!" and call the whole world to witness her surrender. "Whether
+he loves me, or whether he hates me," she thought, "I have chosen him."
+Sinætha, weaving spells by the moon, was not more determined or more
+irretrievably in love than Sara. The danger of such wild moods is as
+attractive to the very young as it is terrifying to the more mature.
+Perfectly conscious of her beauty, she felt able to defy, sue, and
+conquer at the same moment. Orange had never seen her to such brilliant
+advantage. The instant he entered the room and met her eyes, which shone
+with a most touching kind of timidity and a most flattering joy, he had
+to realise the need of strict discipline where constancy is a rule of
+existence. Sara's laugh, movements, way of talking, played a good deal
+on the heart, but even more upon the senses. Brigit's lovely face gained
+intensity only under the influence of sorrow. Then it became human. At
+other times it was merely exquisite. Now Sara's countenance had all the
+changing qualities of nature itself. She had, too, the instinctive arts
+of sympathy which are so much rarer than the actual gift. Far enough was
+Sara from the triumph which she was imagining; far enough was Orange
+from the least disloyalty; but he was fully alive to the danger of
+regarding her as a woman to be fought against. To fight in such cases is
+to admit fear of conquest.
+
+"Those opals are beautiful," said he, presently.
+
+"I am glad you approve of--the opals."
+
+"But you put them to a disadvantage."
+
+"O! is that a compliment? The first you have ever paid me."
+
+"Do you care about them?"
+
+"From you, yes. I was reading in Saint-Simon's Memoirs yesterday that
+your ancestor--Charles de Hausée--was the first swordsman, the bravest
+soldier, the hardest rider, and the best judge of women in France. But
+let us be serious. Lady Larch is wearing her brightest smile!"
+
+"Must we be very earnest this evening?"
+
+"I am afraid so. You see, I have secured Pole-Knox. He has never been
+permitted to dine here before."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I once told Lady Augusta that he was a man for the shortest
+part of the afternoon--not for evenings, at all. She couldn't forgive
+this."
+
+"Does she forgive it now?"
+
+"Yes. She has reached the stage when one may criticise him."
+
+"That means a complete cure, I suppose."
+
+"Far from it--resignation to the worst that can be said of his
+character. There is no cure possible then."
+
+"Have you had any conversation with Reckage?" he asked.
+
+Sara coloured and put her fingers to her lips.
+
+"Hush!" said she. "There's a deceptive quiet about him which puzzles me.
+But I don't think he is sorry to be rid of Agnes. A regiment of
+relatives drove him into the engagement. Now it has come to an end--let
+us thank God!"
+
+"Your own conscience is easy, I take it?"
+
+"You have no right to ask such a question--none at all."
+
+"Some men, you know, can be laughed out of their loves," he continued.
+
+"Timorous men--yes! Is Reckage timorous?"
+
+"You turned that most adroitly."
+
+"Thank you. Please sit between Lady Augusta and Aumerle at dinner."
+
+The dinner passed most agreeably. As little as possible was said about
+the Meeting; each talked to his or her neighbour, and although the
+separate dialogues may have been profound, the general effect produced
+was one of restful flippancy. Pole-Knox remarked over his fish that
+England had little to fear--unless through the corruption of her
+religion, whereupon Penborough declared that religion in the country was
+a School, not a Church. To this Lady Augusta rejoined that Rome's
+strength depended merely on Canterbury's weakness.
+
+"Forcing a change is a very ticklish business," said Aumerle, studying
+the menu, and regretting that his digestion was not all it had been.
+
+Lord Garrow deplored the fact that Mr. Gladstone had embarked on a very
+vulgar and very false policy.
+
+"But its vulgarity," he sighed, "gives it a very easy reception."
+
+"He expects everything except docility," said Penborough; "if the
+Opposition employ that means, they will embarrass all his calculations."
+
+Reckage, meanwhile, was confiding to Sara--
+
+"I turned the horse round, rammed my spurs in, and put him at the rails
+again!"
+
+One statement, made by Penborough, caused a flutter.
+
+"If Catherine of Arragon had been immoral and Mary Stuart virtuous, the
+whole course of European History would have been different. The
+Reformation, for instance, would have found no favour in England."
+
+"That's _very_ advanced," murmured Lady Larch.
+
+Sara, at dessert, tried to encourage a debate on the egoism of the
+Saints compared with the egoism of Montaigne.
+
+"They were selfishly bent on pain and renunciation, he was selfishly
+bent on pleasure and indulgence. Isn't that the one difference between
+them, Mr. Orange?"
+
+Orange refused to be drawn, but he promised to lend her the _Acta
+Sanctorum_ of the Bollandists in sixty volumes in folio.
+
+"After you have read them," said he, "I will tell you my ideas about
+Montaigne."
+
+Many other remarks were probably more amusing; these, however, were the
+most characteristic.
+
+When dinner was ended, Sara and the two ladies withdrew to the
+drawing-room, where they discussed with the utmost vehemence Orange's
+illegal marriage and Reckage's broken engagement.
+
+The sum and substance of their investigations were as follows:--
+
+Lady Larch wondered what the world was coming to.
+
+Lady Augusta declared that no woman yet ever fathomed the heart of man.
+
+Lady Sara maintained that it was a very good thing for both young men to
+have had such reverses before they finally settled down.
+
+At this Lady Augusta forgot to sigh, and Lady Larch lost control of her
+smile.
+
+"How," exclaimed Augusta, "can they forget so soon? Can any settling
+down be in contemplation? Are no deep, sacred feelings left?"
+
+Emmeline Larch, who was a widow, said she would never be hard on any one
+who tried to recover, for the sake of others, from a shattering
+bereavement.
+
+"Dear Lady Larch!" exclaimed Sara.
+
+The three women formed a picturesque group round the fireplace as the
+men entered. But the card-tables were already placed, and Sara lost no
+time in arranging a quartette for whist. Penborough had to leave for the
+_Times_ office. Pole-Knox had to hurry back to Fulham. The young lady,
+who was known to detest all games, was thus able to choose Robert for
+her partner in a short conversation.
+
+"Forgive me," said she, "but--have you anything to tell me about Mrs.
+Parflete?"
+
+"Yes; she is now with Pensée."
+
+"May I call upon her? May I know her? Would she see me?"
+
+"With pleasure, I am sure."
+
+"And you?" she asked.
+
+"I don't see her," he said quietly; "I don't hear from her. I don't
+write to her. And--I don't talk about her. But I should like you to know
+her. She needs true friends--who understand."
+
+"Have you been to Prince d'Alchingen's, or has he approached you in any
+way?"
+
+"I am to dine with him to-morrow."
+
+"Has he said anything to you about the Marquis of Castrillon?"
+
+"Not a word," replied Robert, in surprise: "why should he?"
+
+"I believe there is mischief in the air. Be careful, won't you? Reckage
+is watching us. I think he would like some music. He is so _triste_ this
+evening."
+
+She moved away, and played delightfully on the guitar until the guests
+rose to leave. Then she found an opportunity to tell Lord Reckage not to
+come back again. She was tired, she said, and her papa would think it
+too odd.
+
+"Then to-morrow morning," said he.
+
+She named an hour.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+Robert, on leaving the house, drove to Grosvenor Gate, where he had an
+appointment with Disraeli. The ex-Minister was sitting, in a flowered
+dressing-gown, by the library fire. The blinds were not drawn, for the
+night was bright and starry; the moonlight streamed into the room,
+mingling strangely with the soft glow of the green-shaded lamp. There
+was a large bundle of documents on the table by Disraeli's side, and a
+pile of Continental newspapers on the floor. One of the latter he was
+reading, and, by the slight curl of his mouth and the gleam in his fine
+eyes, Orange saw that he was working out, to his amusement, some train
+of thought which gave full jurisdiction to his knowledge of humanity.
+
+"Bismarck," said he, "is the first German statesman who has not regarded
+newspapers as inconvenient lumber. He wishes the Press to advance his
+great ideas by assuming the place of the Universities in training public
+opinion, and the place of the Church in controlling it. He might as well
+strive to make the horse into the lion, the mule into the unicorn, a
+parrot into the soaring eagle! Any man who is written up into a place
+can be written down out of it. Our friend will learn this too
+late--probably about the time that we, in England, are adopting, with
+enthusiasm, his present error. Ah, my dear Orange, watch the sky and you
+will learn the hearts of men. Observe the changing light, the clouds
+driven by the wind, the glimpses of pure blue, the sudden blackness, the
+startling brilliancy, and then--the monotonous grey. They seem too hard
+for me, at times. The clash between ideas and interests makes our
+inheritance a grim battlefield, and there are moments of mortification
+when one may feel tempted to sell it--not for a mess of pottage, but for
+the _promise_ of a mess of pottage. Tempted, I said. There is always a
+course left, if you have the courage to face it. It may avail you; I
+cannot insure you even that. But if I were in your place, I would try."
+
+"I could never do better, sir, than to follow your advice or your
+example."
+
+"Never betray, then, the least depression at disappointments or
+reverses, but seize the few joyful occasions of life for the indulgence
+of any accumulated melancholy and bitterness. By this simple rule you
+will escape the charge urged against all the ambitious, who are usually
+as intoxicated by success as they are cowardly in adversity. It delights
+me to see you in high spirits. Tell me the news, but first give me your
+opinion of this little paragraph which will appear in to-morrow's
+_Times_."
+
+He took from his pocket-book a slip of paper on which was written the
+following in Mrs. Disraeli's hand:--
+
+     Mr. Orange, the new Member for Norbet Royal, is the son of a French
+     nobleman of very ancient lineage. It was a condition of his
+     adoption by the late Admiral Bertin that his own name should be
+     dropped, and he has accordingly always borne that of the Orange
+     family. The circumstances of his birth were communicated to the
+     Queen before his naturalisation as a British subject, and his
+     presentation, by Mr. Disraeli, at Court.
+
+"Was that necessary?" asked Robert.
+
+"A public man must speak out, and this expedient occurred to me as a
+slight pull in your favour. The two things in life which are really
+gratuitous are the grace of God and one's pedigree! The rest depends
+upon ourselves. Now you can't think how much I am interested in every
+little detail of your mental experiences. I believe you will be a Jesuit
+yet. I have never concealed my respect for the Jesuits. When Spain and
+France expelled the Society of Jesus, they persecuted their truest
+allies. A terrible price, too, they paid for that crime. You see, then,
+that I understand staunch Catholics. If I could rouse an Imperial
+feeling in England which would at all correspond with the feeling of
+Catholics for their Church! Sometimes I dream this may be possible.
+Pope, the satirist, remained, in spite of his wit, a loyal son of the
+Faith, while many dull worthies who shuddered at his epigrams were
+recanting daily either from fear or for some worldly advantage. In the
+same way, Robert, men who hate my novels because they contain a few
+truths, would sell England, if they could, to-morrow. I mentioned the
+fact about Pope to a gentleman who complains that you are by no means
+typical of your co-religionists in this country."
+
+"The very expression 'typical Catholic' is a paradox," replied Robert,
+who always accepted adverse criticism with good humour; "there is one
+Spirit, but it has many manifestations. From the apostles, saints and
+martyrs to the rank and file, we have to recognise the individuality of
+each soul. In fact, sir, is not that the very essence of the Church's
+teaching?"
+
+"So I have always understood. And we have not heard the last of the 'law
+of liberty'; although I observe to my chagrin that many modern Papists
+depart from those great principles which they should take every
+opportunity of claiming as their own. In the freezing snows of the
+world's solitude, a prudent man does not try to make himself happy, but
+he is less than a man if he allows others to make him wretched. The
+flesh has its discomfort: the spirit, however, has its illimitable
+conjectures. When all else fails me, I may still find solace in
+conjectures. Does it strike you that they may have, nevertheless, a
+danger also?"
+
+"This is your own way of asking me whether I know my own mind! If you
+mean, Have I put all sentiment resolutely from my thoughts, Yes. If you
+mean, Have I determined to continue in my present line till I have a
+call to some other vocation, Yes."
+
+His heart was troubled, full of vague combinations. The events of the
+day had seemed mechanical, foolish--a course of sorrowful attempting and
+self-reproach.
+
+"Both of your affirmatives are satisfactory," said Disraeli; "you are, I
+see, what the Americans call a 'whole-hog man.' Now let us consider ways
+and means. I saw Prince d'Alchingen this afternoon. He announces the
+increased distress and reformation of Parflete. We must therefore
+prepare for further villainy. Mrs. Parflete has confided to d'Alchingen
+her desire to go on the stage. He encourages this ambition, and she has
+accepted his invitation to Hadley Lodge, where she will recite in his
+private _salle de comédie_."
+
+Robert, though much taken by surprise, betrayed no sign of it.
+
+"You cannot tell what she will do--until she does it," he answered. "She
+may have great talents."
+
+"Well, one forgets that when Voltaire said, '_Il faut cultiver notre
+jardin_,' he was quoting, with sardonic irony, Saint Teresa! You cannot
+be pleased at Mrs. Parflete's decision. The theatre in England is a
+sport--not an art. In France it is an art, but," he added drily, "it
+embraces more than one profession."
+
+"Whether a woman be a saint, a queen, or an actress--once before the
+public--she is exposed to severe discipline. And I don't fear for this
+one. She will take her revenge on life by laughing at it."
+
+"I daresay. D'Alchingen calls her _un peu étourdi_. She has the
+audacity--she may have the fortune of despair. Confess--you have run a
+little wild about her."
+
+"I ran off the track, if you like," said Orange, smiling.
+
+"Women fascinate the hearts, but they do not affect the destinies of
+determined men," returned Disraeli. "If you have not won anything by
+this affair, it would be hard to say what winning is. There is but one
+feeling and one opinion about the really courageous stand you have
+made."
+
+"I must gain confidence all the same in my own ability to keep my
+resolves when they are clear to me. I once prided myself in that ability
+as the one gem in my character."
+
+"You may laugh at yourself as much as you please. Beauty is as well
+worth admiring as anything on earth, and the world is better lost for
+love, than love for the world. At least, let us say so. I met Reckage at
+the Travellers' yesterday, and had some talk with him about his
+Association. I think it far better that Aumerle should not resign, as he
+could, and probably would, be very mischievous as a freelance. Reckage
+is all for shaking him off, but these things, in any circumstances,
+should never be forced."
+
+"I advised Reckage myself to sound each member of the Committee
+privately. Then, at the general meeting, he could form some just
+estimate of the difficulties in his way, and in their way."
+
+"Reckage, though a mean fellow, might give you an opportunity to work a
+strong Sub-Committee," suggested Disraeli. "One cannot calculate on the
+course of a man so variable and impulsive. He proposes to get rid of
+Aumerle, and make concessions to his set. It is an unhappy policy, and
+always unhappily applied, to imagine that men can be reconciled by
+partial concessions. I attribute much of Reckage's behaviour to his fear
+of society. Society itself, however, does not practise any of the
+virtues which it demands from the individual. It ridicules the highest
+motives, and degrades the most heroic achievements. It is fed with
+emotions and spectacles: it cries, laughs, and condemns without
+knowledge and without enthusiasm. Pitiable indeed is the politician who
+makes society his moral barometer."
+
+"I have urged him to be firm. Christianity was never yet at peace with
+its age. There is no other Faith whose first teacher was persecuted and
+crucified. Viewed solely as a point of administration, it is disastrous
+to cut religious thought according to the fashionable pattern of the
+hour. This has been the constant weakness of English Churchmen. They try
+to match eternity with the times."
+
+"My opinion is that Reckage must act with considerable caution, or he
+will find himself repudiated by every party. The English like a fellow
+to stand by his guns. I come now to your own business. Will you do me a
+favour? Before you reply let me define it. I have been asked to send
+some good speaker to Hanborough. The occasion is the opening of a Free
+Library. Remarks--of a laudatory nature--on the princely munificence of
+Hanborough's mayor, Hanborough's corporation, Hanborough's leading
+citizens, a eulogy of their public glories and private virtues--with a
+little thrown in about Shakespeare, Scott, and the Lord-Lieutenant of
+the county--would be adequately appreciated. The attendance will be
+large: the nobility, gentry, and clergy of the neighbourhood will flower
+about you on the platform; a banquet will follow in the evening, and in
+the morning blushing girls will hand you bouquets at the railway
+station. Can you refuse?"
+
+"Not easily, I admit," said Robert, laughing; "but Reckage is rather low
+and unhappy just now about his broken engagement. Wouldn't such an
+adventure as this take him out of himself?"
+
+"This is not an adventure--this is an opportunity," said Disraeli; "it
+would be nursed into a stepping-stone. I know fifty men who are worrying
+themselves to death to get it."
+
+"You need not tell me that," replied Robert, with gratitude. "It would
+be a great thing for me. But Reckage is always at his best in functions
+of the kind. Hanborough might make much of him, and then his
+Association would feel flattered by reflected honours."
+
+"You invariably set your face against your own advantages, and I am
+afraid I shall not live to see you where you ought to be. However,
+Reckage shall have the invitation. Now, good-night. By the by, have you
+heard that Castrillon is now in the marriage-market? His mistress has
+given her consent, and the Prince has promised his blessing. Could
+things look more auspicious? Good-night."
+
+For the second time that evening Castrillon's name fell with a warning
+note on Robert's ear. Disraeli, he knew, would not have mentioned him
+out of sheer idleness. There was some danger threatening in that
+quarter, and it was impossible to dissociate this from Brigit. The
+Marquis of Castrillon had been with her in Madrid, and also at Baron
+Zeuill's palace after the escape from Loadilla.
+
+"Where is Castrillon now?" asked Robert.
+
+"I understand he is in London," answered Disraeli; "at Claridge's Hotel.
+D'Alchingen and he are on excellent terms."
+
+"Good!" said Robert, tightening his lips. "You will find he has been
+invited to Hadley."
+
+"I haven't a doubt of it."
+
+"Then I must contrive to see him first."
+
+Early the following morning Orange presented himself at the house of an
+old, very devout priest of his acquaintance.
+
+"Father," said he, "this afternoon or to-morrow I may be in
+circumstances of danger."
+
+"What danger is this?" asked the priest.
+
+"There is a man whom I may be compelled, in defence of my honour, to
+challenge to a duel."
+
+"To approach the Sacrament in such a frame of mind," said the old man,
+"is not to prepare yourself for danger. For to come to confession with a
+determination of taking vengeance is to put an obstacle to the grace of
+the Sacrament. You must preserve your honour by some other way. Indeed,
+the honour you think to preserve by this is not real honour, but merely
+the estimation of bad men founded on bad principles."
+
+"I know," said Orange, hotly; "it is impossible, however, to withdraw
+now."
+
+"If you should be beaten," returned the other, who had been in the army
+himself as a youth, and could comprehend the worldly view of the
+situation, "if you should be beaten, what becomes of the honour you wish
+to defend? And if you should be killed in that state of soul in which
+you go to the duel, you will go straight to hell and everlasting shame."
+
+"I implore you, Father, to pray for me, and to hear my confession, if
+you possibly can."
+
+"Certainly, I cannot hear you," said the priest. "But this is what I
+will do. Wear this _Agnus Dei_, and perhaps God will have mercy on you
+for the sake of this, and afford you time for penance. Understand,
+however, I do not give it to you in order to encourage you in your bad
+purpose, but that you may wear it with all reverence and respect, and
+perhaps be moved to obedience."
+
+Robert thanked him, accepting the gift in a right spirit. His self-will,
+however, was aroused. He had determined to fight Castrillon, and fight
+he would.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+Sara awoke that same morning with a foreboding heart. She wrote a letter
+to Reckage postponing his call, and another to Pensée Fitz Rewes, asking
+her to be at home that afternoon. At half-past two the young lady drove
+up, in her brougham, to the widow's door in Curzon Street. The blinds
+were down, and the house gave every indication that its owner was not in
+London. Sara, however, was admitted, and Pensée received her in a little
+room, hung with lilac chintz and full of porcelain, at the back of the
+house. Pensée, wearing a loose blue robe, seemed over-excited and
+sad--with that sadness which seems to fall upon the soul as snow upon
+water. She was reclining on the sofa, reading a worn copy of Law's
+_Serious Call_ which had belonged to the late Viscount, and bore many of
+his pencil-marks. This in itself was to Sara a sign of some unusual
+melancholy in her friend.
+
+"Why," she said, kissing her soft, pale cheek, "why didn't you let me
+know that you had returned? I thought you were still in Paris."
+
+"My dear," said Pensée, sitting up with a sudden movement and
+supporting herself on her two hands. "I am no longer my own mistress. I
+have become a puppet--a marionette: a kind of lady-in-waiting--a person
+to whom women talk when they have nothing to say, and to whom men talk
+when they have nothing to do."
+
+Sara chose a seat and studied the speaker with a new curiosity. She was
+charming; vexation gave humanity to her waxen features, and the flash in
+her eyes suggested hitherto unsuspected fires in her temperament, "She
+has more spirit than I gave her credit for," thought Sara, and she
+added, "Darling!" aloud.
+
+"Darling, indeed!" said Pensée. "I can tell you I am tired of being a
+darling. There are limits.... I have no patience with Brigit, and Robert
+drives me to the conclusion that good men are fools--fools! I suppose he
+told you that I was in town again?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, he won't come and see me himself because _she_ is here."
+
+"That is merely a decision on principle. He longs to come."
+
+"Quite so. But the girl does not deserve him."
+
+Sara showed no astonishment; she maintained her thoughtful air, and
+replied with tranquillity--
+
+"He thinks she is perfect."
+
+"I find no vulgar faults in her, myself, although there seems no foolish
+thing left that she hasn't done. I am sure that every one will think
+her light, worldly, and frivolous. Let me say what I have been through.
+After the first terrible day and night at St. Malo, there was no more
+crying. There was not another tear. We went to Paris. She spent all her
+mornings at Notre Dame, all her afternoons with old Monsieur Lanitaux of
+the Conservatoire, all her evenings at the theatre. She found many of
+her mother's old friends. In the theatrical world I find much loyalty
+toward those actually born in the profession. They treated her as though
+she were a young queen. Lanitaux managed to get her privately before the
+Empress Eugénie. She sang for the Empress: the Empress cried and gave
+her an emerald ring."
+
+"Then she has talent."
+
+"Genius, I believe," said Pensée, solemnly. "This makes her hateful and
+lovable at the same moment. She is determined to be an actress. She
+never speaks of Robert, and she shuts herself up in her room reciting
+Marivaux and Molière. The d'Alchingens have invited her to Hadley next
+Saturday. They encourage her theatrical ideas. And why? They wish her to
+lose caste. She is an Archduchess, Sara, an Alberian Archduchess. What a
+living argument against unequal marriages!"
+
+"Will she go to Hadley?"
+
+"Yes--wholly against my advice. I don't trust Prince d'Alchingen."
+
+"How I wish I could see her!"
+
+"She is in the library now. I will ask her to come down."
+
+Pensée left the room, and Sara paced the floor till she returned.
+
+"She is coming," said Pensée, "be nice to her--for Robert's sake!"
+
+Sara nodded, and both women watched the door till the handle moved, and
+Mrs. Parflete entered.
+
+She was dressed in violet silk without ornaments or jewels of any
+description. Her face was slightly flushed, and the colour intensified
+the pale gold diadem of her blonde hair. The expression--sweet-tempered,
+yet a little arrogant--of her countenance and its long oval form bore a
+striking resemblance to the early portraits of Marie Antoinette. Her
+under-lip had also a slight outward bend, which seemed an encouragement
+when she smiled, and contemptuous when she frowned. Her figure--though
+too slight even for a girl of seventeen--was extraordinarily graceful,
+and, in spite of her height, she was so well proportioned that she did
+not appear too tall. Youth showed itself, however, in a certain
+childlikeness of demeanour--a mixture of timidity, confidence,
+embarrassment, and, if one looked in her face for any sign of the
+emotions she had experienced, or the scenes in which she had played no
+feeble part, one sought in vain. Gaiety covered the melancholy, almost
+sombre depths in her character. And it was the gaiety of her French
+mother--petulant, reckless, irresistible, giddy, uncertain. As a child,
+dressed up in ribbons and lace, with flowers in her hair, she had been
+the chief amusement and plaything of Madame Duboc--to be held on her
+lap, perched upon the piano, placed on high cushions in the carriage,
+and lifted on the table of the drawing-room, where she entertained a
+brilliant, if dissipated company, by her talk, her little songs, her
+laughter, her mimicry, and her dancing. She rarely danced now, yet all
+the seductive arts of perfect dancing seemed hers by right of birth.
+Each movement, each gesture had a peculiar charm, and her dark blue
+eyes, the more provocative for their lack of passion, were full of a
+half-mocking, half-tender vivacity. Sara, a beautiful young woman
+herself, surveyed this unconscious rival and recognised, with good
+sense, a fatal attractiveness which was stronger than time and far above
+beauty. It was the spell of a spirit and body planned for fascination
+and excelling in this indefinable power. Had she been born to ruin men?
+thought Sara. Had she been given a glamour and certain gifts merely to
+perplex, deceive, and destroy all those who came within the magic of her
+glance? History had its long, terrible catalogue of such women whose
+words are now forgotten, whose portraits leave us cold, yet whose very
+names still agitate the heart and fire the imagination. Was Brigit one
+of these?
+
+She had nothing of the deliberate coquette who, eager to please, keeps
+up an incessant battery of airs and graces. Her enchantments depended
+rather on the fact that she neither asked for admiration nor valued it.
+Free from vanity, and therefore indifferent to criticism, the
+bitternesses which destroy the peace of most women never entered her
+mind. The man she had chosen gave her no cause for jealousy, and, while
+she enjoyed men's society, she had been so accustomed to it from her
+earliest days that she had nothing to fear from the novelty of their
+friendship, or the danger of their compliments. Not prudish, not morbid,
+not envious, not sentimental, and not indolent, she was perhaps
+especially endowed for the tantalising career which the stage offers to
+the ambitious of both sexes. Acting came to her as music comes to the
+true musician. She never considered whether she would become a great
+actress or a rejected one: the art in itself was her delight, and she
+found more happiness in reciting Molière and Shakespeare alone in her
+own room than she ever received, even at the height of her fame, from
+her triumphs before the world. There was, no doubt, a great craving in
+her nature for innocent pleasures and excitement. She loved gay scenes,
+bright lights, beautiful clothes, lively music, witty conversation. She
+had been born for the brilliant Courts of the eighteenth century when
+life in each class was more highly concentrated than is possible
+now--when love was put to severer tests, hatred permitted a crueller
+play, politics asked a more intricate genius, and art controlled the
+kingdom of the Graces.
+
+The three women as they faced each other presented a remarkable picture.
+Pensée, the eldest, who alone knew the lessons of physical pain, had a
+pathetic grace which made her seem, in comparison with the
+others--radiant with untried health,--some gentle, plaintive spirit from
+a sadder sphere. Her clinging blue robe appeared too heavy for the frail
+body; her fair curls and carefully arranged _chignon_ were too modish
+for the ethereal yet anxious countenance; the massive wedding-ring
+seemed too coarse a bond for the almost transparent hand which trembled
+nervously on the cover of the _Serious Call_. Sara, in black velvet and
+sable, with ostrich plumes and golden beads, with flashing eyes and a
+gipsy's flush, with all the self-command of a woman trained for society,
+living for it and in it, with all the self-assurance of a woman in an
+unassailable position, handsome, rich, flattered, spoiled, domineering,
+and unscrupulous, with all the insolence of an egoism which no human
+force could humiliate and no human antagonist terrify, Sara seemed the
+one who was destined to succeed superbly in the war of life. Mrs.
+Parflete--whose courage, determination, and powers of endurance were
+concealed by a face which might have been made of lovely gauze--seemed
+less a being than a poetical creation: a portrait by Watteau or
+Fragonard stepped from its frame, animated by pure fancy, and moving,
+without sorrow and without labour, through a charmed existence.
+
+She made two steps forward when Sara advanced to meet her, holding out
+both hands and smiling with real kindness at the sight of a delightful
+apparition which looked too fragile to excite such a fierce emotion as
+jealousy.
+
+"I believe we are to meet at Hadley," said Sara. "I hear you are going
+to act."
+
+"Yes," replied Brigit, with a slight note of irony in her musical voice.
+"I am going to act."
+
+"How charming! And what will you play?"
+
+"I play the Marquise in one of Marivaux's comedies."
+
+"And who will play the Marquis?" asked Sara.
+
+"There is no Marquis," answered Brigit, laughing a little. "But," she
+added, "there is a Chevalier and a Comte. One of Prince d'Alchingen's
+attachés will play the Comte. M. de Castrillon will play the part of the
+Chevalier."
+
+"Castrillon!" exclaimed Sara, in amazement.
+
+"The Marquis of Castrillon!" cried Pensée, turning livid; "pray, pray
+put it off till you have heard from Baron Zeuill. Dear Brigit! for my
+sake, for Robert's----"
+
+"It is for your sake and Robert's that I have accepted the invitation to
+Hadley. I wish you would understand. I must show them all that I mean
+what I say."
+
+"But Castrillon is a wicked wretch--a libertine."
+
+"We have already acted together in this very piece at Madrid. Much
+depends on my playing well next Saturday. I am quite sure of his talent,
+and, in such a case, his private morals are not my affair. He is no
+worse than Prince d'Alchingen was, and most of his associates are."
+
+"You can't know what you are saying," answered Pensée. "You will be so
+miserable when you find you have been madly obstinate. It is very hard,
+in a country like England, for a young woman to set herself in
+opposition to certain prejudices."
+
+"Are the Duke and Duchess of Fortinbras respectable?" asked Brigit.
+
+"What a question!" said Pensée; "of course they are most exclusive."
+
+"Then if they are quite willing that their daughter Clementine should
+marry Castrillon, surely he may play the Chevalier to my Marquise."
+
+"I don't think, Pensée," put in Sara, "that Castrillon is exactly
+tabooed. In fact, one meets him everywhere in Paris, and, beyond a
+doubt, the Fortinbrases and the Huxaters and the Kentons made a great
+fuss over him last season. But do you _like_ him?" she said, suddenly
+turning to Brigit.
+
+The question was skilful.
+
+"I don't take him seriously," answered Brigit; "he has the great science
+of _l'excellent ton dans le mauvis ton_. You would say--'he is vulgar in
+the right way.' I feel sure he never deceived women. They may have been
+foolish but they must have been frail before they met him! He can be
+ridiculous in five languages, but he cannot be sincere in one of them.
+As for his wickedness, one must have more than bad intentions; one must
+have the circumstances. I have nothing to fear from M. de Castrillon. He
+knows me perfectly well."
+
+"I am simply wretched about you," said Pensée; "of your future I dare
+not think. I try to be _sympathique_, and your difficulties come very
+home to me because I have had such great sorrows myself. But I have
+little hopes of doing any good while you are so self-willed."
+
+"Dearest," exclaimed Brigit: "trust me!"
+
+"My child, you are 'wiser in your own eyes than seven men that can
+render a reason.' I implore you to abandon this mad scheme; I implore
+you to abandon these wrong--these dangerous ideas of the stage. I know
+how much I am asking, and how little right I have to ask anything, but I
+think you ought to listen to me."
+
+Brigit, with a sparkling glance at Sara, stroked Pensée's cheek, and
+pinched her small ear.
+
+"_Mon cher coeur_," said she, "I do not forget your goodness. And I
+needed it, for I have been so wretched and forsaken. My soul is weighed
+down with troubles, and grief, and anxiety: each day I expect some new
+misfortune: you are the one friend I may keep. But you would not know
+how to imagine the intrigues and falsehoods which surround me on every
+side. _O mon amie_, I must prove to them that I want nothing they can
+give me--that I possess nothing which they can take away."
+
+"I know what she means, Pensée," said Sara; "she has to show d'Alchingen
+that her interests are fixed on art--not politics. And, from her point
+of view, she is right. I must say so, although I don't wish to
+interfere. And so long as she knows M. de Castrillon, it is better taste
+to make her first appearance with him than with some strange actor
+engaged for the occasion. After all, Mario was well known as the
+Marchese di Candia before he adopted the operatic stage as a profession.
+As for gossip, how is anybody's tongue to be stopped?"
+
+"I do not expect that people's tongues should be stopped," rejoined
+Pensée.
+
+"What the world says of me I have learned to disregard very much," said
+Brigit: "if I vex my friends, I must nevertheless follow my vocation. It
+was good enough for my mother. I do not apologise for her existence, nor
+do I offer excuses for my own. She was an actress: I am an actress. She
+succeeded: I may not succeed. But if you fear for my faith and my
+character, it would be quite as easy to lose both in the highest society
+as in the vilest theatres! I foresee mistakes and difficulties. They
+must come. I shan't have a happy life, dearest Pensée: I don't look for
+happiness. Why then do you scold me?"
+
+"I am not scolding," said Lady Fitz Rewes: "I have never blamed you,
+never--in my heart. We shall get on better now that we have brought
+ourselves to speak out. How different it is when one judges for oneself
+or for another! I do believe in having the courage of one's convictions.
+But it was my duty to warn you----"
+
+"This is all I wanted," exclaimed Brigit; "that we should understand
+each other and stand close by each other. I am not on the edge of a
+precipice--I am at the bottom of it already!" Her eyes had grown calm
+from the mere force of sadness. "You mustn't ask me to look back," she
+added: "you mustn't ask me to choose again. A simple, quiet life is out
+of the question now. I have to learn how to forget."
+
+She moved to the door, kissed her hand to Pensée, and bowed prettily to
+Sara.
+
+"I must get back to my work," she said, and so left them. The two women
+turned toward each other.
+
+"There is no hope for Orange," observed Sara drily: "no man would ever
+forget her."
+
+"He needn't forget her, but----"
+
+"Yes, it would have to be sheer, absolute forgetfulness. I like her. I
+like all beautiful things--pictures, statues, bronzes, porcelains, and
+white marble visions! She is a white marble vision. And Orange will love
+her forever and ever and ever. And when she is dead, he will love her
+still more!"
+
+She threw back her head and laughed--till Pensée laughed also. Then they
+wished each other goodbye, and parted.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+When Sara reached home, she was dismayed to hear that Lord Reckage had
+called during her absence and was waiting for her return. The prospect
+of an interview with him seemed so disagreeable that she walked first to
+the library, and sat there alone, for some moments, before she could
+summon the presence of mind which every sense warned her would be
+required for the ordeal. At last, with a pinched heart, she went up the
+great staircase, and found Reckage writing at her own table in the
+drawing-room. He turned quickly, and jumped to his feet at the rustle of
+her dress. He was looking unusually handsome, she thought, very
+animated, very dashing.
+
+"You will forgive these clothes," said he, "but I have ordered Pluto
+round at four o'clock, and I am going for a long ride."
+
+"What a strange idea!" she answered, taking off her gloves. "Where are
+you going?"
+
+"To Hampstead Heath. I need the air and the exercise. I have to compose
+a speech."
+
+"The speech for the Meeting?"
+
+His brow darkened, and he pushed back with his foot a log which was
+falling from the open grate.
+
+"No, not that speech. Another. Disraeli has asked me to go in his stead
+to Hanborough. I don't like to attach over-importance to the invitation,
+but he must mean it as an encouragement. Evidently, he wishes to show
+that Aumerle and the rest are without any shadow of right in their
+attacks. I have been above five years working up this society, and if,
+at the end of that time, I am president only by dint of _family
+interest_, be assured the situation cannot be worth having. When I
+leave, it will go all to pieces."
+
+"But you don't intend to leave, surely?"
+
+"Indeed, I do."
+
+"Have you hinted at resignation?"
+
+"No, I sha'n't hint. Hints belong to the unconsidered patience of fools.
+I won't give them an inkling of my real tactics. Let them lollop along
+in their own wretched fashion to some final imbecility! I have other
+matters to think of, Sara. Doesn't Disraeli's action say, as delicately
+as possible, that I am wasting my time over small men? I have been
+altogether too easy of access. Simplicity and consideration are thrown
+away on the Snookses and the Pawkinses! With these gentry, one must be a
+vulgar, bragging snob, or they think one is not worth knowing."
+
+"But you owe it to yourself and to Orange to hold the Meeting
+to-morrow?" she said, anxiously.
+
+"There is a way out of it," he answered, avoiding her eyes. "We can talk
+of that presently."
+
+"Nothing interests me more."
+
+"That is not true," he said, taking a chair near her; "there are many
+things which must interest both of us much, much more than that stupid
+Meeting."
+
+"I prefer not to speak of them now, Beauclerk."
+
+"I can't go on in this uncertainty. I am beginning to think I am a
+blundering fellow--where women are concerned. When we were together as
+children, I seem to remember, looking back, that I always did the wrong
+thing. And later--when you came out and I fancied myself a man of the
+world, it was the same. I don't know exactly what a girl is at eighteen,
+but I know that a fellow of twenty-five is an ass. He is probably
+well-meaning: he isn't hardened by ambition and he is pretty
+sentimental, as a rule. Yet he doesn't have fixed ideas. One day it
+dawned upon me that I was in love."
+
+"Now don't say that."
+
+"I repeat it. I am far from wishing to pose as a martyr, but whenever
+one is happy, all one's friends think that one is going to make some
+fatal mistake. I suppose no battle can be won without a battle. But life
+has always had a good deal of painfulness to me, and I hate opposition.
+It isn't lack of courage on my part--I can fight an enemy to the death.
+When it comes to quarrelling with relatives or those I care about--well,
+I own I can seldom see good reasons for keeping a stiff neck."
+
+"I am perfectly convinced of your spirit, Beauclerk; every circumstance
+serves to show it. There was never a time when you did the wrong
+thing--in my judgment."
+
+"You are generous, but I dare not believe you there. Much that I did and
+all that I left unsaid must have puzzled you. I wouldn't speak now,
+Sara, if I didn't feel sure that in spite of my faults, my stupidity, my
+want of self-knowledge, you saw that I was destined to love you."
+
+It was impossible to deny this fact. She had been well aware always of
+his affection, and the certainty had given a peculiar emotional value to
+every scene--no matter how commonplace--to every occasion, no matter how
+crowded, to every conversation, no matter how trivial--in which he
+figured or his name transpired. He and poor Marshire were the two men in
+the world who really loved her. Marshire was the more desperate because
+he was less intelligent and had fewer interests; Reckage loved her with
+all the force of a selfish, vain, and spoilt nature. Such a passion she
+knew was not especially noble and certainly not ideal. But it was
+strong, and it made him submissive.
+
+"Sara," he said, "you have got to help me." He put his arm round her
+waist, and as she inclined her face ever so slightly toward his, he
+kissed her cheek.
+
+"How can I help you?" she asked.
+
+"Let us marry."
+
+"I don't wish to marry any one just yet, Beauclerk," she said; "I like
+my liberty. I don't feel that I should make either a good wife, or a
+contented one, as I am now. I want to see more and think more before I
+give up my will to another."
+
+"I would not ask you to give up your will."
+
+"We should be utterly miserable if I didn't."
+
+"Believe me, it is the weak, effeminate creature who wishes to control
+women. Men of character respect women of character. These fellows who
+declare that they will be masters in their own house are masters nowhere
+else. I delight in your spirit. Orange and I have often agreed," he
+added, with a searching look, "that you are the most brilliant girl in
+England."
+
+"Why do you quote Robert?" she said carelessly; "isn't your opinion
+enough for me?"
+
+"Can you pretend that his opinion has no weight with you?"
+
+She laughed, and stroked his arm.
+
+"My dear, why should I pretend anything? To tell the truth, I am
+surprised that Orange has noticed me. I saw Mrs. Parflete to-day. I
+understand his infatuation."
+
+"I have always told you that she was a very pretty woman. But why is it
+that, no matter where we start, we always come back to Orange? I am
+getting sick of him. I dislike being _affiché_, as it were, to some one
+else. This marriage of his pursues me. If I go into a club, if I dine,
+if I ride, if I walk--ten to one if I am not pelted with questions
+about Mrs. Parflete, or Robert's history, or his genius, or his future
+plans. I must drop him."
+
+"Drop him?" she exclaimed.
+
+"Yes. It doesn't help me to appear so friendly with a Roman. I know he
+is very fine, but I have to consider my own position. They all say that
+it would be madness to take the chair now at his meeting."
+
+"But it was _your_ meeting, Beauclerk."
+
+"In the first place, perhaps. I thought, too, it might be a good,
+independent move. Disraeli's invitation to Hanborough puts another
+complexion on affairs. It is the first formal recognition that he, as
+Leader, has ever given me. It is a reminder of my responsibilities. He
+is fond of Orange, I know, and he wouldn't hurt his feelings, or seem to
+put a spoke in his wheel, for all the world. But Dizzy is subtle. He
+likes to test one's _savoir vivre_."
+
+"Shall you tell Orange that you intend to throw him over?"
+
+"Not yet."
+
+"Oh, you ought!"
+
+"Why? I want the meeting to take place. It will be useful in its way--it
+may show us how public opinion is going."
+
+Sara hid her contempt by rising from her chair and removing her hat.
+Reckage watched the play of her arms as she stood before the mirror, and
+he did not see, as she could, the reflection of his face--sensual,
+calculating, and, stormed as it was for the moment by the meanest
+feelings of self-interest, repellent.
+
+"How I hate him!" she thought; "how I despise him!"
+
+Then she turned round, smiling--
+
+"Hats make my head ache! So you think the meeting will be useful?"
+
+"Emphatically. It did occur to me that I might drop a line to Robert--in
+fact, I was writing to him when you came in. Here's the letter, as you
+see, signed and sealed."
+
+"Do send it."
+
+"No," he answered, putting it back into his pocket; "one could only get
+him on the platform just now by making him believe that such an action
+would, in some way, help me. You don't know Robert."
+
+"I daresay not, but I know that much."
+
+"This being the case, why upset him at the eleventh hour?"
+
+She made no reply, and before Reckage could speak again, the servant
+announced the arrival of his horse.
+
+"I intend to ride like the devil, Sara," he said; "and I wish you could
+come with me. What rides we used to have--long ago! You were a larky
+little thing in those days, darling!"
+
+He bent down and kissed her lips.
+
+"You shall marry me--or no one," said he; "but you are cold: you are not
+very nice to me. I suppose it's your way. You wouldn't be yourself if
+you were like other women. You are not a woman, you're a witch. Must I
+go now?"
+
+Sara had opened the door.
+
+"Yes, you know how Pluto hates to wait."
+
+"That animal will be the death of me yet. Will you stand on the balcony
+and watch me till I am out of sight? Have pretty manners--for once."
+
+"Very well."
+
+She went on to the balcony, watched him mount, and ride away. He turned
+several times to gaze back at her picturesque figure, dim, but to him
+lovely in the gathering dusk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+Robert, after his interview with the priest, returned to his old
+lodgings in a top floor of Vigo Street--for he had left Almouth House,
+where Reckage's hospitality, kind as it was, suited neither his pride
+nor his mood. He was greatly in debt, and although his salary from Lord
+Wight and his literary earnings represented a sure income, it stood at
+what he called the "early hundreds." The tastes, habits, and pursuits of
+those with whom he spent his time were delightful, no doubt, but they
+were costly. A box at the play; the cricket-match party, little dinners,
+and a rubber of whist, or a quiet game of vingt-et-un; the lunches here,
+the suppers there; the country houses where, in the winter, one could
+dine and sleep and hunt the next day, and, in the autumn, shoot, and, in
+the summer, flirt; the attendance at race-meetings, balls, and weddings;
+journeys to the Continent, civilities everywhere,--in fact, the whole
+business of society--no matter how modestly done--demands money. Most
+young men are naturally fond of brilliant, light-hearted companions,
+plenty of amusement, and that indescribable treasure known as the _joie
+de vivre_. Orange was no exception to this rule, and there were many
+hours when he tasted the bitterness of poverty, and felt the harsh
+differences between the outward gifts bestowed by Fate. It was not that
+he cared for luxuries, but it seemed hard that a horse should have to be
+counted among them, and that it was necessary to work for twelve hours a
+day in order to live at all, even as a dependent, among those with whom
+he was, by right of birth and ability, the equal, and to whom he was, in
+many cases, the superior. How many promising careers and brave hearts
+have fallen short under the strain of a position so mortifying and
+apparently so unjust! In public life, whether one joins the Church, the
+Camp, the Senate, or the Arts, the trials of strength and courage are
+most severe even to those who, in material circumstances at any rate,
+are favourites of fortune. Neither influence nor riches avail much in
+the terrific struggles for supremacy, for recognition, for mere fair
+play itself. What must the conflict be then for those who, with slight
+purses and few allies, find themselves pitted against the powerful of
+the earth? Discouragement, in weak natures, soon turns to envy, and the
+spectacle of human unkindness has driven many a reflective, delicate
+soul to say that the companionship of his fellow-men is unlovely, not to
+be admired, and difficult, at times, not to hate. In disgust of the
+world--where one has been wounded, or where one has wounded
+others--(wounded vanity and remorse are alike bitter in their fruits),
+numbers, with a sort of despairing fatalism, retire from the campaign,
+cut themselves adrift from their people and their country, and, having
+failed in life, court death under strange skies in far-off lands.
+Robert, who looked rather for the triumph of ideas than the glory of
+individuals, was not easily dismayed. So long as the right was by some
+means accomplished, and good seeds brought forth a good harvest,--the
+burden and heat of the day, the changes of weather, the scantiness of
+the wage, the ingratitude and treachery of agents, the hardships, the
+toil--mattered little enough. Devoured by ambition in his early youth,
+he had never permitted himself the least doubtful means of attaining any
+object. He was not obliged, therefore, to affect an indifference to
+success in order to divert attention from his methods of arriving at it.
+No man, once bent upon a project, could be more resolute than Orange.
+None were more stern in self-repression and self-discipline. But in
+controlling, or subduing altogether, the softer possibilities in a
+character, there is always the danger lest uncharitableness, hardness of
+heart, or blind severity of judgment should take their place. Young
+people with strong natures can seldom find the middle course between
+extremes, and this one, in curbing a desire for power, will fairly crush
+his whole vigour, while that one, in revolt against the tyranny of
+love, will become the slave of pessimism. There were days, no doubt,
+and weeks when Orange found every counsel, a mockery, and every law, a
+paradox. The strife between the flesh and the spirit went on in his life
+as it does in all lives, but he was one who held, that, whatever the
+issue of it all might be, a man must be a man while he may--losing
+himself neither in the whirl of passion nor in the enervating worlds of
+reverie, but accepting the fulness of existence--its pains, vanities,
+pleasures, cares, sorrows,--with a fighter's courage and the fortitude
+of an immortal soul.
+
+As he walked along toward Vigo Street in the cold, dark autumn morning,
+he felt more than able to hold his own against all adversaries. And this
+was not the insolence of conceit, but the just strength which comes from
+a vigorous conscience and perfect health. A soldier counts it no shame,
+but rather an honour, to die in battle, so Robert, surveying the chances
+before him, stood determined, in every event, to endure until the end,
+to fight until the end, to maintain his ground until the end. But if he
+had put sentiment from his path, it was not so easily weeded from his
+constitution, and while he was able to persuade himself that his
+renunciation of all passionate love--except as a bitter-sweet
+memory--was complete, he had to realise that the old grudge against
+Castrillon had grown into a formidable, unquenchable, over-mastering
+hatred. Where this strange obsession was concerned, no religious or
+other consideration availed in the least. Bit by bit, hour by hour, the
+feeling had grown, deriving vigour from every source, every allusion,
+and every experience. The books he read, the conversations he heard, the
+people he met--all seemed to illuminate and justify, in some mysterious
+way, his enmity against Castrillon. He may have believed that he was
+resigned to his ill-luck in love, but a sense that he had been defrauded
+haunted his thoughts always, and the longing to square his account with
+destiny was less a wish than a mute instinct. How great had been the
+temptation to defy all laws--human and Divine--where Brigit Parflete was
+in question, no one can know. In getting the better of it, the motive
+had not been, it must be confessed, the fear of punishment here or
+hereafter. This would not be a true history, nor a reasonable one, if it
+were not acknowledged that much of the victory in that situation had
+been due to the woman's youth and candid, sunny nature. No passion--far
+less a guilty one--he thought, could have had a place in that childlike
+heart. She was Pompilia--not Juliet, because, like the more ill-starred
+heroine, she had met sorrow before she met love, and the strong emotion
+which comes first in a young life makes the deep, the ineffaceable
+impression on its character. She had the strength to suffer undeserved
+woe, but the penalties of defiance and disobedience would surely kill
+her. The thought of any desperate step seemed impossible.
+
+The question of love at that point in Orange's life had therefore been
+decided as much by conditions as it had by principles and conscience.
+But with the Castrillon difficulty, it was a question of hatred--not
+love. In hate, Orange was as little given to brooding as he was in other
+matters. He had never been able to forgive the duel at Loadilla which
+had occasioned so much scandal in Madrid, and brought Brigit's name into
+bad company. Robert, before his meeting with Mrs. Parflete, had fought
+several duels, and each of them about a different pretty face.
+Encounters of the kind form part of a youth's education on the
+Continent: such experiences are considered not romantic, not heroic, not
+striking, but merely usual and manly. It was impossible for one brought
+up in this view to feel that duelling--under certain provocation and
+fair conditions--was wrong. The custom was frequently abused, no doubt,
+yet the same could be said of all customs, and Orange, rightly or
+wrongly, held a conviction on the subject which no argument could
+affect. But, with a lover's unreasonableness, he had found the fight
+between Bodava and Castrillon an insult to the lady at stake. He
+suspected, too, that Castrillon had spoken lightly of her to General
+Prim, to Zeuill, perhaps to d'Alchingen. This was insufferable, and so,
+inasmuch as the mischief had been done, he would not and could not
+remain outside the combat. There seemed, also, a certain feeling at the
+Clubs where the Madrid scandal had become known, that Castrillon, on
+the whole, had proved a more dashing, and was probably the favoured,
+suitor. Orange, whose personal courage had been demonstrated too often
+to be called into doubt, had been criticised for an absence of moral, or
+rather immoral, courage with regard to Mrs. Parflete. Reckage's sly
+phrases about the ecclesiastical temperament; the sneers of some
+adventurous women on the subject of platonic affection; the good-natured
+brow-lifting of the wits and the worldly were not easy to bear for a man
+who was, by nature, impulsive, by nature, regardless of every sacrifice
+and all opinions while a strong purpose remained unfulfilled. Robert
+made up his mind that, come what might, whether his action was approved
+or blamed, or whether he won or lost, pick some quarrel he would, and
+see how Castrillon liked it, and thus settle the matter then and for
+always. Castrillon had received a military training; he was a most
+adroit swordsman and a notorious shot; he would not be one to make a
+quarrel difficult.
+
+When Orange reached the house in Vigo Street, it was still early in the
+day. As he mounted the stairs, he noticed a fellow-lodger, still in his
+evening clothes, entering a room on the second floor. He did not see the
+man's face, but he was struck by something familiar in his build. This
+impression was not haunting, it passed almost immediately, and the young
+man settled down with resolution to his work. At one o'clock he went to
+Brookes's, had his lunch, met a few acquaintances who studied his face
+with curiosity, and a few colleagues who tried to persuade each other
+that he was a man who could play a deep game. He returned to his rooms
+and resumed work till about six o'clock, when his landlord informed him
+that a lady, who would not give her name, wished to see him. The lady
+was tall, handsomely dressed, darkly veiled. What, he thought, if it
+should be Brigit? What joy! What rashness! Robert went out into the hall
+to meet the strange visitor. She made a gesture signifying silence, and,
+on greeting her, he did not utter her name. It was Lady Sara.
+
+She did not speak until she had entered the shabbily furnished
+sitting-room and closed the door.
+
+"This is a mad thing on my part," she said; "a mad thing. I know it. Of
+course, I might have asked you to come to me, but I couldn't wait so
+long. And I don't trust letters. Some news can't be written. It is not
+about Mrs. Parflete," she added, hastily, "you need not fear that. It is
+about Beauclerk. He came to see me this afternoon. He is going to throw
+you over. He is going to fail you at the Meeting. You are to test public
+opinion while he sits under shelter--to profit by your experience. What
+do you think of that?"
+
+"You are very good to come. But I hope you are mistaken all the same. He
+may throw me over. I am sure he will send me a word of warning."
+
+"That was his first intention. He gave it up, because he knew you
+wouldn't act without him. And he wants you to act--for the reason I have
+given. Oh, I'm so ashamed, so humiliated to think that any friend of
+mine could be such a traitor."
+
+She unpinned her veil, and seemed all the handsomer for her scornful
+expression and flashing eyes.
+
+"You must be the first to retire," she continued. "I won't have you
+treated in this contemptuous way: I won't endure it. I want you to write
+to the Committee at once--at once--without a moment's loss of time. This
+is why I have come here myself. You seem to have something in you which
+they take for weakness. You will stand anything. Oh, I know why well
+enough. You like to be a martyr--which means saying nothing and
+suffering a good deal. But I call it a mistake. I call it irritating,
+misleading, actually wrong. If I were a man I would kill people."
+
+"It is easy enough to kill."
+
+"So they say. Be more unscrupulous, dear friend. Give your nature full
+play now and again. You can't make me believe that you are ever
+natural."
+
+"Some can trust their natures. I don't trust mine."
+
+"Don't you see how much more power you would have over men if you were
+more emotional, more spontaneous, more human? Who gives you credit for
+self-control? No one. They say you are self-contained--a very different
+idea. They say you are cold. Now, I don't care what I do. I follow
+every impulse. I must follow them. I had to come here this evening. I
+had to tell you about Reckage. The landlord was odious. I met two men on
+the staircase. One actually tried to peer into my face. I have never
+submitted to such indignities. Heaven knows what they are thinking now.
+I shall remember their vile laugh as long as I live. But I was
+determined to see you. And here I am. Apparently I have not done much
+good by coming. You hardly believe me. You think me an indiscreet
+woman."
+
+"I think you are splendid."
+
+"I saw Mrs. Parflete to-day. She is beautiful. But she is indiscreet,
+too. All women worth considering are miracles of imprudence."
+
+"Haven't I always said so?"
+
+"Then how can you expect us to like you when you are so--so wise?"
+
+"I don't expect you to like me."
+
+She bit her lip and pretended to check a laugh.
+
+"I suppose you enjoy this room?" she said, glancing round it till her
+eyes fell on a small crucifix which was nailed to the wall behind his
+chair; "it is so depressing. You are very perverse. And the odd thing
+is----"
+
+"Well, what is the odd thing?"
+
+"That you are attracted by Mrs. Parflete. Your style ought to be Saint
+Clare or Saint Elizabeth. But not at all. You prefer this exquisite,
+wayward, perfectly dressed, extremely young actress. You give your
+nature full play in your _taste_, at all events."
+
+"You can urge that much in my favour, then?"
+
+"Yes, that much. Oh, she's pretty. But frivolous and light-hearted--as
+light-hearted as Titania. There! I have been wondering what I could call
+her. She is Titania in alabaster. Marble is too strong. At first, I
+thought it might be marble. I have changed my mind since. I suppose you
+know she will act in this comedy with Castrillon at the d'Alchingens?"
+
+"So Disraeli has told me. Did you come to tell me that, also?"
+
+She coloured, but met his angry glance without flinching. "Now," she
+thought, "he is going to show temper."
+
+"I came to tell you that, also," she repeated. "Pensée is opposed to the
+whole scheme. Mrs. Parflete stamped her very beautiful foot, and said,
+'I go.' Do you approve?"
+
+"I am to meet Castrillon to-night at the Prince d'Alchingen's," he
+answered, evading her question.
+
+"How you hate him!"
+
+"What makes you think so?"
+
+"I know your face. I never saw any love there for anybody, but just then
+there was a look of hate."
+
+"You are quite right. I do hate him."
+
+"You are actually trembling at the mention of his name. Then you have
+feelings, after all." She clapped her hands, and leaving her chair
+walked toward him.
+
+"Never hate me, will you?" she said, touching his arm. "Promise me that
+you will never hate me. Like me as much as you can."
+
+At that instant, they heard a tap at the door, and the landlord,
+carrying a few letters on a salver, entered the room. Sara pulled down
+her veil--a foolish action, which she regretted a moment later. Orange
+thanked the man for the letters and threw them on the table. The
+landlord, with a studied air of discretion, which was the more insulting
+for its very slyness, went, half on tiptoe, out.
+
+"Does he always bring your letters upstairs?" she asked.
+
+"As a rule--no," said Orange.
+
+"Then he came on purpose! He wanted to see me--what impudence! I am
+beginning to realise what one has to expect if one--if one takes an
+unconventional step."
+
+Her voice failed, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. Then she
+covered her face with her hands.
+
+"Every courageous--every disinterested act is unconventional," said
+Robert; "you are tired out--that's all."
+
+"You see," she answered, with a note of harsh sadness in her voice, "I
+have had a strange day. The scene with Beauclerk was a great strain. I
+feel a kind of apprehensiveness and terror--yes, terror, which I cannot
+describe. It may be my nerves, it may be fancy. But I am too conscious
+of being alive. Every minute seems vital. Every sound is acute. This day
+has been one long over-emphasis. Look at my hand: how it trembles!
+Beauclerk called me a witch. Certainly, I am more sensitive to
+impressions than most people."
+
+"One of these letters is from Reckage. It is written on a sheet of your
+own note-paper."
+
+She dried her eyes, and looked at him with exultation, astonishment, and
+a certain incredulity.
+
+"Then he must have listened to me. He posted it, after all, when he left
+the house. He is always impulsive. I remember now--that I saw him give
+something to the groom. Do read what he says."
+
+The letter, scrawled hastily on the pale lilac note-paper affected by
+Sara and bearing her monogram, ran as follows:--
+
+     "MY DEAR OLD FELLOW,--There are still some points of arrangement
+     very material to consider with regard to this Meeting next week,
+     and I hope it is not too late to go into them. The thing cannot be
+     done away. But the circumstances have become, thank God, very
+     different indeed. Mr. Disraeli has asked me to speak in his stead
+     at Hanborough--an honour so wholly unexpected and undeserved that I
+     am forced to see in it an especial mark of encouragement. I must
+     admit at once that I feel greatly flattered. I am not now to be
+     taught what opinion I am to entertain of those gentlemen whose
+     narrow and selfish principles forced me to move against my
+     inclination, my judgment, and my convictions. I am persuaded that
+     any additional public action--no matter how indirect on my part--in
+     the Nomination of Temple would have at this juncture, the worse
+     effect. It would savour of self-advertisement--an idea which I
+     abhor. It would seem an _over-doing_, as it were, of my own
+     importance. You will readily agree, I know, that I ought to keep
+     perfectly quiet before, and for some time after, my Hanborough
+     appearance. Not having in any degree changed my view upon this
+     subject of the Association, I don't feel that my present decision
+     is inconsistent. I think it will strike everybody as a
+     sensible--the only sensible--course to follow.
+
+     "When can you dine? Or if you won't dine, let me see you when you
+     can spare half an hour.
+
+                        "Yours affectionately,"
+
+                                "BEAUCLERK."
+
+Orange turned to Sara and said, when he had finished reading--
+
+"I am glad he wrote."
+
+"You knew him better than I did. He is still a poor creature, for, what
+does it all come to?--a rambling, stupid lie. The letter is sheer
+rubbish--a complete misrepresentation of the facts. But I need not have
+come. This always happens when women interfere between men," she added,
+bitterly; "you don't want us. There's a freemasonry among men. You
+excuse and justify and forgive each other always."
+
+"You persuaded him to post this."
+
+"That is true. He might have done so, however, without persuasion. In
+future, call me the busybody! I must go now. I have made you late for
+d'Alchingen's dinner. What a lesson to those about to make themselves
+useful! And how right you were not to get bitter! I take things too much
+to heart. I must pray for flippancy. Then, perhaps, I may find no fault
+with this world, or with you, or with anybody!"
+
+"I am bitter enough--don't doubt it."
+
+"No! no! let us assure each other that this is the best of all possible
+worlds--that Beauclerk shows cleverness and good sense, that no one
+tells lies, no one is treacherous, no one is unjust, malicious, or
+revengeful nowadays, that friends are friends, and enemies--merely
+divided in opinions! We must encourage ourselves in a cynical,
+good-natured toleration of all that is abject and detestable in
+mankind."
+
+"You are too impatient, Lady Sara. You want life concentrated, like a
+play, into a few acts lasting, say, three hours. Whereas, most lives
+have no dénouement--so far as lookers-on are concerned!"
+
+"At last some one has been able to define me. I am 'impatient.' But you
+take refuge in that profound silence which is the philosophy of the
+strong; you don't struggle against the general feeling; you content
+yourself by going your own gait quietly. You have pride enough to
+be--nothing, and ambition enough to do--everything. Hark! what is that?
+They are calling out news in the street."
+
+"The current lie," said Orange. "We don't want to hear it."
+
+Sara walked to the window and threw it open.
+
+"I caught a name," she exclaimed. "It is something about Reckage ...
+Listen ... Reckage!"
+
+Above the din of the traffic, a hoarse duet rose from the street--voice
+answering voice with a discordant reiteration of one phrase--"_Serious
+accident to Lord Reckage! Serious accident to Lord Reckage!_"
+
+"My God, what are they saying? What are they saying? It is my
+imagination. It can't be true. I am fancying things. What are they
+saying?"
+
+Orange had already left the room and was in the road. When he returned,
+he gave her the newspaper and did not attempt to speak. But he closed
+the window in order to shut out, if possible, the hideous cry.
+
+"Where is it? I can't see! In which column?" said Sara.
+
+He pointed to a corner on the third page, where she read in black, rough
+type:--
+
+"_Lord Reckage was thrown from his horse at Hyde Park Corner this
+afternoon. He was removed to Almouth House. His injuries are said to be
+of a very dangerous nature._"
+
+She crushed the paper in her hand, and the two stood looking at each
+other, stupefied by the blow.
+
+"I am going to him," said Robert.
+
+"And I must go home," whispered the girl. "He always said that Pluto
+would be the death of him."
+
+They went down the stairs together without exchanging a word. Orange
+walked with her to St. James's Square. Neither could speak. On parting,
+she faltered,--
+
+"Let me know ... how he is...."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+Lord Reckage had been carried through the hall of Almouth House, but not
+up the famous staircase of which he was so proud. He looked at it as
+they bore him to the library, and although he was still in a kind of
+stupor, the terrified servants could read in his eyes the certain
+knowledge that he would never behold the marble walls or the portraits
+of his ancestors again.
+
+"Are you in pain, my lord? is your lordship in pain?" sobbed the
+housekeeper. His features were injured and his face was perfectly
+pallid--so much changed that he could not have been immediately
+recognised. Four doctors--one of them a passer-by at the time of the
+accident--had assembled. They found one shoulder was severely injured,
+and the right collar-bone broken. He complained of great pain in his
+side.
+
+"Am I going to die, Sir Thomas?" said he.
+
+"Why should you die?" replied the distinguished surgeon. "But you have
+had a nasty fall."
+
+"Pluto shied at something," answered his lordship; "mind they don't
+shoot him. I won't have him shot."
+
+Then, for a few moments, he lost consciousness.
+
+When Orange arrived, the physicians were looking very grave, and
+telegrams had been despatched to all the young man's near relatives.
+
+"He has called for you several times," said Sir Thomas; "and," he added,
+dropping his voice, "is there any lady who could meet ... the family? I
+fancy I caught a lady's name more than once. Could it have been----"
+
+"Sara," suggested Orange, to relieve his embarrassment.
+
+"It certainly sounded like Sara."
+
+"Then I will send Lord Garrow a note--she is Lord Garrow's daughter--a
+lifelong friend. Is there no hope?"
+
+"He may have a pretty good night."
+
+Robert bowed his head and asked no more. He sat by the dying man, whose
+sufferings, although they were a little alleviated by morphia, made him
+restless. He moaned even in his snatches of sleep, and spoke
+occasionally--always about the accident. Once he mentioned Agnes:
+
+"Agnes will be sorry when she hears."
+
+Toward daybreak he turned to Orange, and said quite simply--
+
+"You are different from the rest. You have the priest's element in you;
+there is an incessant struggle and toil to cut one another's throat
+among us average men--all striving after success. You weren't built that
+way. God bless you."
+
+In the morning his father and the near relatives arrived. The women
+cried bitterly. The aged peer looked on in stony grief--drinking in his
+son's scarred faced and glancing, with despair, from time to time, at
+the clock.
+
+"It isn't going, is it?" he asked.
+
+No, it had been checked; the tick disturbed his lordship, but there was
+an hour-glass on the table.
+
+"How many hours do they think----?"
+
+"Perhaps ten hours."
+
+When the sand had run down at the conclusion of the first hour, no one
+reversed the instrument. But Lady Margaret Sempton, the Earl's sister,
+sent a whispered message to the Bishop of Hadley, who was waiting, much
+altered by sorrow and anxiety, in the ante-room. Reckage had asked to
+see him. He had always liked the good old man, and the rest withdrew
+during their short interview.
+
+Meanwhile carriage after carriage drove up to the door; caller after
+caller appeared with cards, notes, and inquiries; name after name was
+inscribed in the visitors' book; telegrams came from the Royal family,
+from all parts of the country and the Continent.
+
+"My poor boy. I didn't know he had so many friends," said his father.
+"God forgive me, I used to think he wasted his time on fads."
+
+And odd people came also. Trainers, jockeys, and horse-dealers rubbed
+shoulders on the doorsteps with collectors of old furniture,
+missionaries, electioneering agents, ladies of the chorus, of the
+_corps de ballet_, shabby-genteel individuals of both sexes out of work,
+and the like; each had his degree of regret and an anecdote.
+
+"He was always very kind to me," said this one, that one, and the other.
+
+Bradwyn, noting some of these unusual visitors, observed that Reckage
+had a knack of pleasing the lower classes and half-educated persons
+generally. He heard a Bible-reader say to the footman: "_Take ye heed,
+watch and pray; for ye know not when the time is!_" and he shuddered at
+this exhibition of bad taste. Lord Garrow had been unremitting in his
+personal inquiries, but Sara did not come till she received the
+following from Orange--
+
+"He is conscious, and he asks to see you."
+
+She reached the room as the Bishop of Hadley was coming out; tears were
+in his eyes and he did not notice the young lady who glided past him as
+lightly as a shadow. Poor Reckage recognised her step, however, and
+pulled the sheet half over his face lest she should be startled at its
+harsh disfigurements. She threw off her hat and veil and fell on her
+knees by the side of his bed.
+
+"Speak to me, Beauclerk, speak to me; it is I--Sara."
+
+"I know you," he whispered; "you are the one I loved the best. But I
+haven't been true to anybody. I only wish to goodness I had another
+chance. I'd be different--I'd show 'em ... I never meant ..." he took
+her hand, her beautiful, tapering hand loaded with sapphires ... "like
+your eyes, old girl ... don't cry ... and I say, I posted that ...
+letter after all ... to please you. Are you ... pleased?"
+
+He spoke no more.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Action is the essence of political parties, and the members of the
+League had the ink barely dry on their telegrams of condolence before
+they despatched others, summoning a special meeting for the
+consideration of future steps. Orange, who was regarded as a man devoid
+of ambition, was unanimously elected a member of the Executive
+Committee; he was a good speaker, he could mind his own business, he
+never pulled wires, and it was his rule to step aside when others behind
+him showed any disposition to push toward the front. On the evening of
+the day on which Lord Reckage died, Aumerle and Ullweather called at
+Vigo Street as a preliminary move in their new plan of campaign. But
+Robert was not there. He sat all that night, a solitary watcher, in the
+chamber of death. His affection for his old pupil was something stronger
+than a brother's love. Whether he saw him as others saw him, or whether
+he was aware of certain pleasant traits in that uncertain character
+which escaped the common run of dull observers, his devotion had never
+wearied in all the years of their acquaintanceship.
+
+The old housekeeper crept into the room when the bereaved family had
+retired, and she was on her way to bed.
+
+"You and me, sir, always got on with his lordship," she said, looking
+down, with Robert, at the still, marred face. "We understood him. He
+wasn't all for self--as many thought. But his heart wanted touching. If
+you could touch his heart, a kinder gentleman didn't live. And if it was
+my last breath, I'd call him the best of the lot--in spite of his
+tantrums, and his changeableness, and his haughty way sometimes. Mark my
+words, the glory of Almouth dies with him. Mr. Hercy will bring us down
+to rack and ruin. O, sir, I'm glad I'm old. I never want to see the
+sorrow that is sure to come to Almouth."
+
+But Orange was not thinking about the house of Almouth, or its fate. His
+thoughts were with the soul of the young man who had enjoyed life so
+well, and made so many plans, and cherished so many worldly hopes--of
+the young man who had existed apparently to indulge his own will, spend
+money, kill time, and fulfil a few rather showy responsibilities. And
+yet what Robert remembered best was his laugh. He could hear it still.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+Prince d'Alchingen had been much put out of conceit with himself by
+disappointment. The small dinner which he had carefully arranged for
+Orange and Castrillon took place, but Orange was not present. He had
+sent word from Almouth House that he could not leave Lord Reckage. His
+Excellency, therefore, was thoroughly annoyed, and Castrillon's
+persiflage fell heavily upon his ears. He tried to think that this
+nobleman's vivacity made him appear flippant, whereas he was, in
+reality, a Don Juan of the classic type--unscrupulous, calculating, and
+damnable. When he remarked that it was _grande folie de vouloir d'être
+sage avec une sagesse impossible_, the Prince's spirits rose--only to
+fall again, however, at a later pronouncement from the same lips to the
+effect that virtuous women always brought tears to his eyes.
+
+"They tell me," said the Prince, weighing each syllable with great
+deliberation (they carried on their conversation principally in French
+and Spanish) "that Mrs. Parflete is an admirable actress."
+
+Castrillon kissed the tips of his fingers to the air, and ejaculated:
+"Adorable!"
+
+"Does she resemble, in any way, I wonder, her good mother, Madame
+Duboc?"
+
+No, she had her own style--although she was coquettish enough. And
+pretty? Delicious.
+
+"This is better," thought his Excellency, "much better. And do you
+think," he asked, aloud, "that she cares at all for Orange?"
+
+Castrillon smirked and put his hand, half instinctively, to his
+breast-pocket. D'Alchingen inferred, from this quick movement, that he
+carried a letter or two, or a keepsake, from the lady near the region of
+his heart.
+
+"She may need the tonic of some Platonic love in order to bear the
+burden of a solitary life," said the Marquis; "but, all the same, I have
+no especial reason to think that M. de Hausée is her ideal."
+
+"He is the ideal of several persons," said Alchingen; "I don't know what
+to make of him."
+
+But at this point Castrillon displayed a maddening discretion. The
+Prince was glad when he took his departure, and he exhausted his stock
+of malice in wishing the young coxcomb to the devil. His Excellency was
+becoming more and more morose over his snuff and the last mail--which
+was longer and duller than usual--with a peculiarly sharp note from his
+Chief into the bargain--when Mudara was announced.
+
+Mudara bowed to perfection, and then, going forward, presumed to put his
+hand on the Ambassador's arm.
+
+"Your Excellency," said he, "I have some important news. On the whole it
+is gratifying. It may make us cynical, but it is absurd to expect human
+nature to be Divine. Mrs. Parflete has been at Orange's lodgings this
+afternoon."
+
+"You don't mean it?"
+
+"Indeed, it is too true. When he moved to Vigo Street, I was fortunate
+enough to secure a room in the same house immediately under his."
+
+"Good!"
+
+"I was sitting at my table, with the door just ajar, when I heard, at
+six o'clock, a rustle of silk skirts on the stairs. I peeped out. I saw
+a tall lady, thickly veiled, following our landlord, Dunton, across the
+landing. She caught sight of me, and started violently."
+
+"Was it Mrs. Parflete?"
+
+"I could _swear_" he answered slowly, "that it was Mrs. Parflete.... She
+reached Orange's door; Dunton tapped; Orange came out; the lady and he
+exchanged glances; they entered the room together, and he closed the
+door. Three-quarters of an hour later they came down the stairs and left
+the house."
+
+"You followed them?"
+
+"Alas! I couldn't. I was not alone. Parflete himself was with me. I
+dared not trust him out of my sight. He, following his custom, grew
+faint at the sight of Madame----"
+
+"Then he, too, recognised her? This is excellent."
+
+"He recognised her height and her figure. Besides, whom else could it
+have been--if not Mrs. Parflete? M. de Hausée has no sister, and we know
+his character. The caprice of fortune has honoured him with many faults,
+but gallantry is not among them. I have that from those who knew him
+when he was too young to disguise his true nature. He would not have
+been an _abbé malgré lui_, and he has, on the contrary, the most
+ecclesiastical soul I know. Rest assured, your Excellency, that this
+_canaille_ of a woman is determined to be his ruin, for she is a
+baptized serpent,--one of those creatures more dangerous to men than the
+devil himself."
+
+The Ambassador smiled agreeably, put his tongue in his cheek, and nodded
+his head with a movement which might have passed equally well for a
+sympathetic reproof or sorrowful acquiescence.
+
+"What will Parflete do?" he asked.
+
+Mudara threw up his dark, sinewy, and powerful hands in genuine despair.
+
+"He is the vice of the situation," he exclaimed; "at the very mention of
+divorce his teeth chatter, he gets a spasm of the heart, and he begins
+to gabble like a sick monk about his soul and his conscience. Believe
+me, we are dealing with a madman. How can any end be attained in his
+present state of irresolution?"
+
+"Happily it is not my business either to arrange or propose the means."
+
+The sly glance of the Prince encountered the sly glance of the Agent.
+
+"That is well understood, your Excellency," said Mudara, with the
+inimitable accent of respect. "Let good be done and let evil be avoided,
+is the sum total of the Government's desires. But whenever I can see
+clearly, I shall know how to act. When right and truth are plain, time
+and experience are the best allies. We have at least sufficient evidence
+to institute divorce proceedings. If Parflete will not file a
+petition----"
+
+"You can do nothing. Unless you can be perfectly sure that he will
+follow some reasonable course, he ought to be saved from himself."
+
+"Yes, he ought to be saved from himself. Something in my nature makes me
+follow a certain kind of man as hounds track game. What is now to be
+done is to meet force with force."
+
+"An armed diplomacy is good," said d'Alchingen.
+
+"And also a scheme of alternatives," replied Mudara.
+
+"I confess I very much prefer working through Castrillon, if possible,
+than de Hausée. Disraeli has implicit faith in this de Hausée. It seems
+taken for granted that he is ascetic and intellectual. He is altogether
+in the clouds, whereas Castrillon is wholly in touch with--with
+humanity."
+
+"But de Hausée, like the Cardinal de Retz, fought duels when he was a
+student. If I cannot work upon Parflete's jealousy, we must see what can
+be done in that direction with de Hausée. We hear much of the soul's
+awakening! Wait for the body's awakening now--it must come. Mrs.
+Parflete is a _Samaritaine_; we have to prove it somehow. Even though
+one invented stories about her, one would probably find that they were,
+approximately, true."
+
+"Keep me informed," said the Prince, making a little bow, which
+signified that the audience was at an end.
+
+Mudara, according to his own Confession, left the Embassy and proceeded
+at once to the small private hotel near Covent Garden where Parflete had
+taken up his abode.
+
+     Parflete's rooms, (_we read_) were en suite. He had bought a few
+     rather beautiful prints and a number of exquisitely bound books.
+     These last, with bowls and vases of flowers, were scattered over
+     the various tables. The scent of the flowers mingled with the
+     strange fumes of some Oriental incense. He had draped pieces of
+     flame-coloured silk over the windows. Everything looked _bizarre_,
+     and the atmosphere was sultry. When I entered he was not pleased to
+     see me--in fact, he showed a disposition to sulk. I laboured to
+     convince him that he would forfeit the respect of all honourable
+     men unless he showed some just resentment at his wife's conduct.
+
+     "No one respects me as it is," he answered; "nobody cares what I do
+     one way or the other so long as I avoid the police. And as the
+     police and I have nothing at all in common, I am not likely to
+     give offence to my good friends in the Alberian Government."
+
+     I warned him that such sneers were unjustifiable, and I reminded
+     him, with severity, of the Government's extraordinary forbearance.
+
+     He fixed his eyes unpleasantly upon me, and his fingers trembled as
+     he played with the frogs of his lilac-velvet smoking-jacket.
+
+     "I wish," said he, "that you would mind your own business. I have
+     done everything to protect the appearance of your good faith all
+     through this affair. Now leave me alone. Besides, I can't be sure
+     that the lady we saw to-day was Her Imperial Highness."
+
+     My exasperation at his tone of defiance was all but uncontrollable.
+
+     "You know," said I, "that we had no doubt of her identity."
+
+     "We didn't see her face nor the colour of her hair. In any case, I
+     refuse to humiliate her. Kindly remember that she is my wife, and
+     drop a conversation which I find insulting."
+
+     Hot words then passed between us. In my anger I may have uttered
+     several truths which hit him too hard. Suddenly he sprang at me as
+     though he were a wild cat. His eyes rolled, his face was convulsed
+     beyond recognition. Men I have never feared; he seemed, however,
+     not a man but some demoniac risen from hell. In self-defence I
+     struck him with the small poniard which I have carried all my life.
+     He staggered back, and the blood-letting seemed to relieve his
+     temper.
+
+     "Go!" said he; "go while you can. I don't think the wound is
+     mortal, but I don't wish any man hanged for murdering me."
+
+     It was in my will to strike him again. I was beside myself with
+     contempt at what I took to be a fresh revelation of his cowardice.
+
+     I replied coolly enough,--"I would not murder you. Have no alarm on
+     that score. But I can defend myself, I hope."
+
+     By this time he had reached the door and thrown it open. A waiter
+     was passing at the time.
+
+     "Sir," said Parflete, "I have the honour to wish you good-day."
+
+     The waiter heard this remark distinctly, and saw me bow as I parted
+     from the wretched creature.
+
+     Parflete's appearance was ghastly, but I attributed this pallor to
+     fright and not to pain, for I believed from my heart that the wound
+     was no more than a slight prick. I left the hotel, took a cab to my
+     lodgings, and after reading a light Spanish novel in order to
+     change the current of my thoughts, I passed an excellent night,
+     sleeping at least seven hours.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+Lord Garrow, after much cautious consideration, had decided that Lady
+Sara could not absent herself from the d'Alchingens' party without
+exciting unfavourable comment, and so prejudicing her future
+relationship with the Duke of Marshire. His lordship, in his secret
+heart, was by no means sorry for Reckage's untimely death. An orthodox
+faith in a better, happier world assisted his conscience over the many
+difficulties which afflict a strong sense of good manners. Good manners
+demanded some show of grief at the young man's melancholy end; but, as
+his lordship pointed out to his weeping daughter, higher reflections
+ought to triumph over the vulgar instincts of sorrow, and an etiquette
+almost heathenish. "Let us be thankful," said he, "that poor Beauclerk
+was spared some lingering malady and the shattering disappointments of a
+public career. He would not wish us to mourn. And indeed, any undue
+mourning on your part might give a very false impression in society. You
+must go to the d'Alchingens'."
+
+Hadley Lodge was built in the reign of George I. In design it resembles
+a little the Vice-Regal Lodge in Dublin; two wings, containing
+innumerable small rooms, are connected by corridors leading to the
+entrance hall. The chief rooms are in the centre, to which Prince
+d'Alchingen himself added a miniature theatre, copied from the one at
+Trianon. When Sara arrived, the Prince and Princess were taking tea in
+the gallery--an apartment so furnished with screens, sofas,
+writing-tables, divans, and arm-chairs that it had become the lounge, as
+it were, of the house. Less formal than the saloon, brighter than the
+library, and more airy than the boudoir, the Princess spent the greater
+part of her day in a favourite corner where she could command a view
+from four windows, enjoy the fire, see the best pictures, and hear the
+piano pleasantly if any guest chose to play upon it. In person she was
+tall and rather gaunt, with high cheek-bones, and very dark hollows
+under her eyes. She had the air of a mourning empress, and seriousness
+was so natural to her countenance, that, although she could not smile,
+and had never been known to laugh, she was not depressing nor was she,
+accurately speaking, melancholy. The style of beauty--for she had
+beauty--was haggard, of the kind now familiar to all English people from
+the paintings of Sir Edward Burne-Jones. In 1869, however, this type was
+still highly uncommon and little appreciated. Journals and letters of
+the period contain references to "that fright, Princess d'Alchingen," or
+"that poor creature who always looks so ill," or "that woman who makes
+one think of a corpse." Sara admired the Princess, and surprised all
+the fashionable artists of that day by insisting on her paintableness.
+
+"How good of you to come, dear Sara!" she murmured, presenting her
+sallow cheek to the young girl with a touch of regal graciousness at
+once designed and impulsive; "I should have been lost without you.
+Anselm has invited a large party, and, as you know, I cannot talk to
+these dear people. I find them too clever, and they find me too stupid.
+The world is not willing to give me credit for that which I have done."
+
+"And what is that, dearest?" asked the Prince.
+
+"I married you!" she answered, with a quick flash of humour under her
+gravity. It was like the occasional sparkle in granite. "You may smile
+at the notion of my living on the reputation of what I might yet do,"
+she continued, resuming her languor.
+
+"Let us talk of pleasant things only, _chère amie_," said the Prince,
+turning to Sara; "mind you, not a word about graves and epitaphs. Mrs.
+Parflete has arrived. Castrillon has arrived. You need not trouble about
+the others. They are not--they cannot be--worth your while. But do watch
+Castrillon. I find that the greatest compliment he can pay to any woman
+is to sneer at her expense. He never permits himself the slightest
+epigram against those who have erred in kindness toward him. One witty
+but frail lady once implored him to miss no opportunity of abusing her
+in public. 'Otherwise,' said she, 'they will know all.' Isn't that a
+good story?"
+
+"Anselm!" sighed the Princess.
+
+"I wonder who that lady was?" said Sara.
+
+"I dare not guess," said the Prince.
+
+Sara had recovered from the emotion called forth by Reckage's tragic
+fate, and she was living now in one of those taciturn reveries which had
+become more and more habitual with her since the last interview with
+d'Alchingen. Every force in her passionate, undisciplined soul was
+concentrated in a wild love for Orange, and every thought of her mind
+was fixed on the determination to win his affection in return. There
+were only two real powers in the world, she told herself; these were
+moral force and money. Money could not affect Robert. But he was
+susceptible to moral force. She resolved to display such an intrepid
+spirit, such strength of will, such devotion that Brigit would seem a
+mere doll in comparison.
+
+"What do you think," she said, turning to the Princess, "of Mrs.
+Parflete? Your opinion is worth everything. Orange is infatuated with
+her. His criticism is therefore useless. The Prince disapproves of her
+parentage. He is therefore prejudiced. I wish to be charitable. I,
+therefore, say what I hardly think. Pensée Fitz Rewes is an innocent
+little fool. She judges all women by herself. You, Princess, are an
+angel of the world. Your verdict, quickly."
+
+The Princess paused before she attempted any reply. Then she fixed her
+deep, grey eyes on Sarah's excited face.
+
+"I like her," she said, slowly.
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"I think she is immature for her age, and therefore reckless. She knows
+everything about sorrow, and very little--at present--about happiness.
+So she doesn't seem quite human. She shows that indulgence toward others
+which is perhaps the last degree of contempt for the follies of
+humanity. Those who take their neighbours seriously are almost
+invariably severe. Mrs. Parflete, on the contrary, is all good-nature
+and excuses. I believe she has genius, and I am sure she will have an
+amazing career."
+
+The Princess, who had always insisted on a studious rather than an
+active part in life, was consequently unlike the majority of her sex,
+who, in the bustle of social engagements, talk without ceasing, letting
+words take the place of ideas, and phrases serve for sentiments. All
+that she uttered showed a habit of thought opposed to the common method
+of drawing-room conversation; she rarely said the expected thing, and
+never, a welcome one. Sara, therefore, was disappointed at this
+favourable judgment of Mrs. Parflete. The jealousy which she had been
+able to control by hoping, in the depths of her heart, that the young
+actress would prove too light a creature to bind for long any masculine,
+stirring spirit, now saw some justification for vehemence.
+
+"And what do you think of Robert Orange?" she asked, breathing quickly.
+
+The Princess folded her hands, fixed her eyes again on the young girl,
+and answered in her usual even tones--
+
+"He is a sentimentalist turned man of action. When this miracle can be
+accomplished, you may expect a very decided, even implacable,
+character--because it is much more difficult to crush one's poetry than
+to crush one's passions. The passions are more or less physical, they
+depend on many material conditions or accidents; but poetry, ideals,
+romance and the like belong to the spirit. I find a great campaign is
+being waged everywhere against the soul. It is a universal movement--the
+only things considered now are the pocket and the brain and the liver."
+
+"Delightful!" said Sara, trying to speak calmly; "and will Orange become
+a liver-devotee?"
+
+"You don't understand self-discipline, _chérie_," answered the Princess;
+"that seems a sealed mystery to most people except the Catholics and the
+Buddhists. Protestants never speak of it, never think of it. Their
+education is all for self-concealment. If I read M. de Hausée rightly,
+he will become no colourless, emasculated being, but certainly a man
+with a silent heart. When he has a grievance he will take it to
+God--never to his friends."
+
+Prince d'Alchingen stifled a yawn and offered Sara a cigarette, which
+she refused, although she had acquired the habit of smoking during her
+visits to Russia.
+
+"If you will both swear," said he, "to keep a secret, I can tell you
+one."
+
+The old and the young lady flushed alike with delight at the prospect of
+hearing some strange news.
+
+"It will come well," he continued, "after my wife's prophetic remarks.
+Mrs. Parflete went alone to Orange's lodgings on Wednesday last at six
+o'clock."
+
+"Is it possible?" exclaimed the Princess.
+
+Sara, feeling the Prince's dissecting glance burning into her
+countenance, grew white and red by turns.
+
+"What a temperament! what jealousy!" thought d'Alchingen.
+
+"How do you know all this?" she asked, thrusting her hands, which were
+trembling, into her ermine muff.
+
+"I know it for a fact. The question now is--How will Parflete endure
+such conduct? Her bigamy may have been innocent, or at least, an
+unavoidable accident. But the afternoon call--well, if he can swallow
+that, his meekness runs a risk of being called cowardice, and his
+magnanimity will bear an unpleasant resemblance to dishonour."
+
+"Yet surely--surely----" stammered Sara.
+
+In a second she grasped the mistake which had been made, and all its
+possible disastrous consequences to herself. Loss of reputation, the
+finger of scorn, and for what? Nothing, or at the worst, an
+indiscretion. Scandal, had there been a romantic cause, and loss of
+reputation, had there been a great passion to make it more memorable as
+a sacrifice than a disgrace, would have seemed to her defiant mind
+something glorious. But here was a mere unbeautiful story--sordid, if
+misunderstood, and a little silly, if satisfactorily explained. And it
+could not be satisfactorily explained. Sara knew life too well to
+encourage herself by supposing that the real truth about her foolish
+visit to Orange's lodgings could ever be told or believed. Orange
+himself would never betray her she knew. But what if she had been seen
+or recognised? The landlord, the men on the staircase--had they followed
+her home, or been able to pierce through her thick veil? She tried to
+collect her thoughts, to appear extremely interested--that was all. The
+effort, however, was beyond her strength. She showed her agitation, and,
+while it was fortunately attributed by the d'Alchingens to a wrong
+reason, they were close observers of every change in her face, nor did
+they miss the notes of alarm and nervousness in her voice.
+
+"It will probably mean a divorce, the social ruin of Orange, and the
+successful _début_ of Madame as a comedian of the first rank," said the
+Ambassador.
+
+"Does Orange know that she was seen that day?" asked Sara.
+
+"Not yet. He will know soon enough, never fear."
+
+"Are you sure--quite sure that it was Mrs. Parflete?" suggested the
+Princess.
+
+"It must have been she," replied the Prince.
+
+"It must have been she," repeated Sara, mechanically.
+
+The lie seemed to come before she had time to think of it; it tripped
+off her tongue as though some will, other than her own, controlled her
+speech. But now that the untruth was spoken she determined to abide by
+it, so she repeated:--
+
+"It must have been Mrs. Parflete."
+
+"And suppose," said the Princess, "that she is able to prove that she
+spent the whole of Wednesday with Lady Fitz Rewes? No one could doubt
+the evidence of Lady Fitz Rewes."
+
+D'Alchingen shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"In that event--which is unlikely," he said; "M. de Hausée will have a
+bad half-hour with Mrs. Parflete. The idyll will be spoilt for ever, and
+our pretty tale for angels about a Saint and a little Bohemian will sink
+to its proper level. It always takes three to make a really edifying
+Platonic history. The third in this case is the lady who called at Vigo
+Street. _Dans le combat, il faut marchez sans s'attendrir!_"
+
+"Who would live?" murmured the Princess, pressing a martyr's relic which
+she always wore on a chain round her neck.
+
+"Suppose," continued d'Alchingen, enjoying his own cynicism, "that we
+have a quartette in this instance. Madame has her Castrillon, M. de
+Hausée has his veiled lady. Each is a pious fraud to the other. Imagine
+the double current of their thoughts, the deceit, the hypocrisy, the
+colossal lie behind them both which makes the inspiring truth a fact! It
+is an anecdote to be told in the Boccaccio manner--gracefully, with
+humour, with much indulgence ... otherwise, it might be the sort of
+story they tell in hell."
+
+"I am happy to say that I have no imagination," said the Princess; "and
+now I shall take Sara--who must be tired--to her room."
+
+She rose from her seat, and, drawing Sara's arm through hers, walked
+from the gallery, through the hall, and up the staircase, talking, the
+while, of a new Romney which the Prince had recently purchased.
+
+Sara was now in her own room, but not alone, for her maid was unpacking,
+and the gown, petticoat, shoes, gloves, and flowers designed for that
+evening were being spread out upon the bed. The girl was in no humour to
+enjoy the finery which she had chosen with so much delight. She turned
+her back upon it all, and, pulling up the blind, gazed moodily out of
+the window till her maid's preparations were at an end. Romantic trees
+and a landscape, almost artificial in its prettiness, surrounded Hadley.
+The sun was setting in a fire, burnishing with enamel tints the long
+green hills which ranged as a natural fortification across the horizon,
+shutting out a whole country of flat fields beyond. The moon, in its
+first quarter, shone out above a distant steeple where the eastern sky,
+already blue and opalesque, promised the dawn of another day in
+reparation for the one then dying in scarlet splendour. But to those who
+are unhappy, to-morrow is a word without significance. Sara stretched
+out her arms instinctively toward the coming night. She wanted darkness
+and she wanted sleep--not the stars of the morning, not the joy of noon.
+What should she do? Her mad love for Orange had reached a desperate
+point--a point where she realised all too clearly and with bitterness,
+that, so far from being a source of strength, it was a curse, a malady,
+a humiliation--driving her into that insatiable desire of solitude where
+the companionship of dreadful imaginations and gloomy thoughts can rend
+the soul at their pleasure. As men are sometimes lured toward dangerous
+perils on land, or mountains, or by sea, and from thence to deeds,
+discoveries, and crimes unforeseen and unpremeditated, so she seemed
+borne along into a whirlpool of feelings which chilled the better
+impulses of her nature and accentuated, with acid and fire, every
+elementary instinct. Animal powers and spiritual tendencies alike were
+concentrated into one absorbing passion which reasoned only in delirium,
+incoherently, without issue. She was wretched in Orange's company
+because every moment so spent showed her that his heart was fixed far
+indeed from her. But the wretchedness suffered that way was stifled in
+the torments she endured when she wondered, miserably, in loneliness,
+what he was thinking, doing, saying; where he was, with whom he was, and
+how he was. The despair of unrequited love was thrice intensified by
+jealousy. "Why did he like that little adventuress, that white china
+Rahab?" she asked herself again and again. "It is just because she has
+bewitched him. It is not real love--it isn't any kind of love. She
+cannot care for him as I do. It isn't in her. O why, why does he fight
+so hard against me?"
+
+Beautiful women seldom believe that their charms can be resisted without
+a fierce struggle. It was, in fact, a tranquil consciousness of beauty
+which gave audacity to Sara's words, and put the ordinary question of
+pride out of the question. Was it not rather a case of the goddess
+putting on humanity, of the queen condescending to a subject. _La reine
+s'amuse_ was the unuttered, constant motto on her heart of hearts. The
+blood of Asiatic princes ran in her veins, and a sovereign contempt for
+manners, as opposed to passions and self-will, ruled her fierce spirit.
+But what should she do? A moment's reflection had shown her that Brigit
+could have no difficulty in proving that she was not the mysterious lady
+who visited Orange's lodgings. Having weighed all the disadvantages,
+Sara now directed her attention to the advantages she could snatch out
+of the dilemma. At last she hit on a bold plan. She rang a bell and a
+housemaid answered the summons.
+
+"Is Mrs. Parflete in her bedroom?" asked Lady Sara; "and where is her
+bedroom?"
+
+"Her bedroom is next to yours, my lady. She is in there now."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+Sara walked along the corridor till she reached an oak door on which was
+a card bearing the name she sought. She tapped, and heard Brigit herself
+reply--
+
+"Come in."
+
+The young actress was lying, in a black silk dressing-gown, on the sofa.
+Her hair fell loosely to her shoulders, and she had evidently been fast
+asleep, for her cheeks were less pale than usual, her eyes were bright,
+and the happiness of some pleasant dream still lingered in their
+expression.
+
+"Lady Sara--how good of you to come!" she exclaimed; "I have been trying
+to rest. I want to play well this evening."
+
+"You will play beautifully, of course," said Sara, submitting, even in
+her jealousy, to the charm and grace of her unconscious rival. "I have
+come on a difficult errand," she added, abruptly; "you may not
+understand, but I hope--I believe--you will."
+
+She became so pale as she uttered these words that Brigit leant forward
+with a gesture of reassurance. In spite of her fragility she was, from
+the habit of self-control, a stronger spirit.
+
+"You may be sure that I shall understand," she said.
+
+"Forgive me, then, but some enemy has circulated a report that you went
+to Mr. Orange's rooms in Vigo Street last Wednesday."
+
+A deep flush swept over Brigit's face.
+
+"I was not there," she said.
+
+"I know," said Sara. "I know you were not there. They made a mistake. It
+was I they saw--not you--it was I."
+
+Brigit dropped her eyes but made no other movement. She seemed to grow
+rigid, and the hand which had been playing with the fringe of her girdle
+remained fixed in its arrested action.
+
+"You? It was you? How ---- you?"
+
+"I had to see him. So I went to him. Now he can easily deny that you
+were there. But he won't betray me. People must think what they please.
+But I am telling you--because you, at least, ought to know the truth."
+
+"And yet it is not my business!"
+
+"What do you mean? Not your business?"
+
+"How can it be my business to ask what lady went to--to his lodgings?"
+
+"But you would have wondered----"
+
+"Yes, I should have wondered. I could not have helped that."
+
+"Mr. Orange and I have been friends, as you know, for some time. He knew
+me years ago before he--he met you. I was quite a little girl. I
+remember I used to hold his hand when I walked in the gardens by his
+side."
+
+"He has often spoken of you."
+
+"But all this does not help us now. If it were ever known that I--I was
+the one, the other day,--I should be ruined."
+
+"You may be sure that no one shall know."
+
+"I am not so selfish as I seem. I don't forget that this story will
+injure him--injure him terribly. They will think him a kind of Joseph
+Surface--a hypocrite. People expect him to be different from everybody
+else. A piece of gossip which they would have laughed at and taken as a
+matter of course from poor Beauclerk or Charles Aumerle--they would
+resent bitterly in Robert. The thing that grieves me, that torments me,
+is the fear lest this act of mine may injure him."
+
+"It won't injure him," said Brigit. "Have no fear at all. And if you
+went to see him, as you say, you must have had the best of reasons for
+doing so. You may rely, I am sure, on his keeping your name a secret.
+You were kind to tell me--for he certainly would not have told
+me--without your consent. We never see each other now, and we never
+write to each other."
+
+Her voice trembled for the first time.
+
+"How does he look?" she asked, after a sharp struggle between her pride
+and a desire to hear more.
+
+"He looks ill and worn. He over-works."
+
+"He will suffer at Lord Reckage's death."
+
+"But he hides his feelings. He is always reticent."
+
+"O, to see him and talk with him--that would be such a joy for me."
+
+"You must be very sad, often," said Sara, coldly.
+
+"Yes, often," answered Brigit. "And I was so happy during the short time
+we were together that now it seems no part of my life--no part of it. I
+say this because I wish you to know that nothing can make us love each
+other less--that all this misery and separation--which may last as long
+as we live--has made no difference and can make no difference to us. And
+if I never see him again, or speak to him again, he will always be
+certain that I am his--unalterably, for ever his."
+
+"You are little more than a child. You have a great career before
+you--who can say what may happen in the future? Women without careers
+change their minds--their tastes. These things are out of one's own
+control, and in your case----"
+
+"My mind may change, but my soul cannot. I may dance, I may amuse
+myself, I may have friends. Make no mistake. I can tell you all that is
+in me. I find life beautiful. The theatre enchants me. I could work
+there all day. I have no illusions about it--the paint, the machinery,
+the box-office, the advertisements--the vulgarity are familiar enough to
+me. But I find a box-office, and machinery, and vulgarity everywhere,
+though they are called by other names."
+
+Sara coloured and looked away.
+
+"I am getting stronger now," continued Brigit. "I can lift up my head
+and see the world as it is. I like it--yes, with all its griefs and its
+horrors--I like it. When one is ill or sentimental one hates it, because
+it wasn't made for the sick, and it was not created us a playground for
+lovers. One may love--yes, but one must work. I intend to love and work
+at the same time."
+
+"Many find that these two occupations clash! There is a time in
+love--just as there is a period in life--when it seems enough in itself.
+It is independent of circumstances and persons. O, but that time soon
+passes! As you learn more, you look for more. And work is no cure for
+dissatisfaction. If you can live through it you will just be a machine
+with one refrain--'I know nothing! I have nothing! I am nothing!'"
+
+The two young girls did not look at each other. Brigit could recognise
+an agitation of the soul in the imperceptible sadness of the voice, and
+she guessed poor Sara's secret.
+
+"Yes," she said quietly. "I must suffer all that. How can you be sure
+that I have not suffered it already? At any rate, I hope this
+confidence will increase your kindness toward me."
+
+"I have no kindness toward you--none at all," said Sara. "I have no
+kindness toward any living creature. I should like to die and come to an
+end. I wasn't born to put up with make-shifts. Other women may be
+resigned to that paltry way of existing. If they can't have what they
+want, they will take what they don't want; they will take what they
+hate, and grin--yes, they will grin and bear it. And after a little
+while, because they become gradually drunk with suffering, they begin to
+think they are noble. They are not noble. They are fools, fools, fools!"
+
+"I shan't accept make-shifts," answered Brigit. "I intend to keep all my
+ideals, but they are all unfinished at present. I have just the outlines
+and beginnings of them--nothing else."
+
+"I am not talking about ideals. I am speaking of realities. I don't want
+to be happy, but I do wish to be one of four things: either perfectly
+alive, or perfectly, utterly dead; either a pure spirit, or a faultless
+animal. This dead-and-alive, body-and-soul mixture which passes for a
+well-disciplined human being is loathsome to me. It is a tissue of lies
+and hypocrisies."
+
+"Perhaps I should have that feeling, too, if I had no faith in God. He
+assumed humanity--not despising it."
+
+"You know I do not believe that splendid story--so it doesn't help me.
+I compare life as I feel it with life as it is, and the inequality fills
+me with disgust. The example of Christ is too sublime. He was human only
+in His sufferings. He bore our burdens and He shared our agonies. He was
+deceived, despised, rejected: the first torture and the firstfruits of
+His Passion was the treachery of a disciple. When I am sorrowful and
+wretched, He seems Real to me and vivid. But when I am well and wildly
+happy, He seems far away and unreal--an invisible God, watching mortals
+with a certain contempt. Now the Pagans had a Divinity for every mood,
+so they never felt depressed or lowered in their own self-esteem. We
+have a God for two moods only,--great sorrow, and great exaltation. For
+the rest we have to beat our breasts and call ourselves miserable
+sinners. All the good people I know enjoy spiritual peace only--without
+any fear of remorse--when they are tired out or moaning with physical
+pain. I don't say this to shock you; I should like to have a religion if
+I could be convinced of it without fasting, without long illnesses, and
+without abandoning all hope of earthly, common joys. Most Christians
+take a middle way, I know; they prattle about their immortal souls, and
+behave as though they had nothing but bodies. I can't take part in such
+a gross farce."
+
+Brigit sighed deeply, and did not reply at once.
+
+"It is all very hard, I know," she answered; "but from the lowest abyss
+one can still see the sky overhead. People's hearts are touched by the
+spectacle of sin or the spectacle of suffering. Our Lord could not sin,
+therefore He reached our sympathies by His Death and Sorrows. Of course,
+if this life here were all, and this world were the only one, and we
+were animals with less beauty than many of the inanimate things in
+nature, and as much intelligence at best as the bees and birds and
+ants--then the Pagan way might be quite admirable. But this isn't the
+case, and so--and so----"
+
+Sara laughed.
+
+"We are a grotesque compromise between gods and creatures," she said;
+"those of us who find this out get a little impatient with the false
+position. You are less sentimental than I am. You take what I call the
+hard view. It is too frigid for me. But I am making you late. All good
+luck to-night!"
+
+She waved her hand, and, returning to her own room, realised that she
+had missed the object of her conversation. The attempt to excite
+Brigit's jealousy had failed.
+
+Nothing is so infectious as despair. Brigit sat quivering under the echo
+of Sara's last words: "You take what I call the hard view." Was it,
+then, such an easy matter to bury love in perpetual silence, to let
+nature yield to fate, to stifle every human craving? The mention of
+Robert's name and the news that he looked ill and careworn had stirred
+all the unshed tears in her heart; she could not think, she could not
+move, she could but realise that she had no right to be with him. And
+sorrow seemed her province. There, surely, she and he might meet, join
+hands, and speak once more face to face. She had not written to him
+since that parting at Miraflores. But she would write now. This was her
+letter--
+
+     MY DEAREST LIFE--You are my dearest and you are my life--so let me
+     say it now, even if I never say it again. I could be glad (if any
+     gladness were left in me) at your grief for Lord Reckage's death,
+     because it gives me an excuse for breaking my word and writing to
+     you. This is selfish, but nobody knows how much I have suffered, or
+     how much I suffer daily, hourly. I try to believe that it would
+     have been worse if we had never owned our love, never met again
+     after our first meeting. Darling, I can't be sure. Sometimes I wish
+     I had been born quite numb. I dare not complain, and yet it is
+     impossible to feel contented. Always, always there is a dreadful
+     pain in my heart. Every moment is occupied, for when I am not
+     working, I sleep, and when I wake, I work. I would rather spend one
+     perfect day with you and die, than live on without you. This is the
+     truth. If I had any choice that would be my choice. But I know you
+     want me to be courageous, and I myself want you to see that a
+     woman's love can be as strong as a man's. Women are supposed to
+     make men weak--they are supposed to be chains and hindrances. This
+     shan't be said of me. You wouldn't say it: you wouldn't think it:
+     yet in history I find that while a few have been saved by women,
+     more have been ruined by them. And where the women have saved the
+     men they loved, it has been done by great renunciations and
+     sacrifices--not at all by selfishness and joys. When I can remember
+     this (I forget it too easily), I can almost persuade myself that I
+     don't long to see you, to hear your voice, to be with you again on
+     the boat--going on and on toward Miraflores. But I never persuade
+     myself of this entirely--never, never. I do long to see you,
+     Robert: I do want to be with you. I envy the servant in your
+     lodgings, and the friends you meet. And I--who love you so
+     dearly--may not go near you. I am going to act to-night--as if I
+     were not acting all day, every day! I haven't said one word about
+     you. But you couldn't be so wretched as I am, because _you_ have
+     yourself, _you_ know what you are doing, saying, and thinking. Now
+     if I could cease altogether and become, say, your hand or your
+     foot, no one would expect you to renounce me. I might be useful,
+     and it would certainly be no scandal if I accompanied you
+     everywhere! I won't say any more.
+
+                                BRIGIT.
+
+She addressed an envelope and sealed the letter within it. Then, with
+tears streaming down her cheeks, she read her part for the comedy that
+evening. When Esther entered with her dressing-gown, she held up her
+hands in dismay.
+
+"O Madame," said she, "I thought you were going to play an amusing
+piece!"
+
+"It will be very amusing," said Brigit, "but this is the way to rehearse
+it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+The Marquis of Castrillon, meanwhile, was pirouetting sublimely before
+the long mirror in his dressing-room, while his valet, a sour-faced
+individual, looked on in great but gloomy interest. The Marquis was
+superbly dressed in a Louis Seize costume--an exact reproduction of the
+one worn by that monarch on his wedding-day--and he presented a very
+fine figure. In features, expression, colouring, and manner it would
+have been difficult to find, or imagine, a more fascinating puppet. An
+unsurpassable actor of noble parts, he seemed created to play the hero
+in deeds, the poet in thoughts, the lover on all occasions. Confident of
+his attractions, he appeared quite free from vanity: each fresh attitude
+became him better than the last: no light could do less than show the
+classic beauty of his head and body. When he laughed, one could admire
+his magnificent teeth; when he looked grave, one could enjoy the
+splendid serenity of his brow and the passion in his deep brown eyes. It
+was said that his legs alone would have made the plainest man a
+dangerous rival, that his well-cut mouth would have made a monster
+irresistible.
+
+"So you don't think," said he, as he executed a final bow and kicked off
+his shoes because a buckle stuck into his instep--"so you don't think,
+Isidore, that Her Imperial Highness loves me?"
+
+"I know she doesn't," replied his man. "I am not going to say that I see
+more than I see."
+
+"It may be that she cannot love," said the Marquis, "and I don't think
+less of her on that account. These sentimental girls become very
+monotonous and sickening. The women whom men love the longest are prim,
+stand-off women. Have you noticed that, Isidore?"
+
+"No, I haven't noticed that. I haven't noticed much love lasting long
+for any kind of person."
+
+"There's something in your stupidity which refreshes me. I have a strong
+notion to marry Her Imperial Highness. I could make her happy."
+
+"Not you."
+
+"I tell you I could. She has the oddest effect upon me. No other woman
+has ever affected me in such a way. I feel when I am with her as though
+we were well matched. If I were a King, I would make her my Queen. I
+might love others, but I should always say, 'Remember the Queen. The
+Queen must be remembered, and honoured, and obeyed in all things.'
+Sometimes I see myself--with her--at a kind of Versailles: every one
+standing up as we enter: Her Majesty very pale and tall and wonderful
+in a blue velvet robe and pearls, I would adore her with a passion as
+constant as it was respectful. I should ask in return _une amitié la
+plus tendre_. Isidore, she is an angel. The sweetness of her soul is in
+her face--in the very sound of her voice. I am a little too material to
+be so sublime in my sentiments as M. de Hausée, but I could be unusually
+faithful to that charming, beautiful creature. Isn't there a crease
+under my left arm? Hold the glass for me."
+
+Isidore held the glass while Castrillon, with knit brows, studied the
+back view of his coat.
+
+"The coat is perfect," said Isidore; "you have no heart or you would
+never find fault with such a back."
+
+"Would you call me heartless?"
+
+"I couldn't call you anything else," replied the valet, bluntly.
+
+"Then why have you been with me, cat-fish, ever since I was born?"
+
+The Marquis had a stock of names for his servant, none of which he
+employed unless he felt in a good humour. Owl-pig, hog-mouse, ape-dog,
+rat-weasel, and cat-fish were the highest expressions of his amiability
+toward the man who had been his ill-tempered, dishonest, impudent, and
+treacherous attendant all the years of his life.
+
+"You know, mule-viper," he continued, "that no one else would keep you
+for five minutes. You are a liar, a thief, and a traitor. Yet I endure
+you. I agree that I must be either heartless or an idiot to put up with
+such a rogue."
+
+Isidore grew livid, muttered blasphemies under his breath, and put pink
+cotton-wool in the toes of his master's dancing-shoes. Castrillon then
+kicked him into the adjoining room and resumed his gymnastic exercises.
+At the end of half an hour, the man re-entered carrying a note
+fastidiously between his left thumb and forefinger.
+
+"Is that for me?" asked the Marquis, who was in the act of turning a
+double somersault with much agility.
+
+"It is for Monsieur."
+
+"Then read it aloud while I stand on my head."
+
+Isidore tore it open and began to read as follows:--
+
+"_Do not misjudge me----_"
+
+"Stop!" exclaimed Castrillon, falling upon his feet at once; "that is
+from a woman. Why didn't you say so?"
+
+"It is from Madame Parflete," replied Isidore.
+
+"Impossible!" said Castrillon, snatching it from his hand; "impossible!"
+
+He read the letter, flushed to the roots of his hair, and kicked Isidore
+for the second time.
+
+"You beast!" said he; "where did you get this? It is her writing, but
+she never wrote it--never on God's earth! Where did you get it?"
+
+"It was given to me by one of her servants."
+
+"Why the devil do you tell me such lies?" exclaimed the young man in a
+fury; "it's some d----d practical joke in the most infernal bad taste,
+and, by God! I have a mind to shoot you."
+
+Castrillon was not given to the utterance of vain threats, and his anger
+was so great that the wretched Isidore, shaking, whining, and cursing,
+edged round the room with his back to the wall and his eyes fixed on his
+master.
+
+"Stand still, will you?" continued the Marquis; "I want to hear a little
+more. How much were you paid for giving me this twaddle? Answer me
+that."
+
+"Two guineas!"
+
+"Two? I'll bet you had twenty. Stand still, I tell you, or I'll kick you
+again. Do you expect me to believe that Mrs. Parflete's servant gave you
+twenty guineas?"
+
+"No, I don't," answered Isidore. "I don't expect you to believe
+anything. But if that isn't Madame Parflete's writing, whose writing is
+it?"
+
+"That is just what I mean to find out," replied Castrillon, "and that is
+why I won't shoot you till it suits my convenience."
+
+Isidore, who had a venomous attachment to the Marquis, burst into tears.
+For many generations their respective ancestors had stood in the
+relation, each to the other, of tyrant and dependent. Isidore's father
+had robbed, cheated, deceived, and adored Castrillon's father; the
+fathers of these two reprobates had observed the same measure of
+whippings and treacheries, and so it had been always from the first
+registered beginnings of the noble and the slavish house. But an Isidore
+had never been known to leave a Castrillon's service. The hereditary,
+easy-going forbearance, on the one hand, which found killing less
+tedious than a crude dismissal, and the hereditary guilty conscience, on
+the other, which had to recognise the justice of punishment, kept the
+connection rudely loyal.
+
+"I detest you," said Castrillon; "I hate the sight of you."
+
+Isidore blubbered aloud, and accepted the information as a turn for the
+better in the tide of his master's wrath.
+
+"Who gave you that letter?"
+
+"Well, if you must know, it was Signor Mudara."
+
+"Mudara? Then Mudara wrote it. I'll wring his neck."
+
+"I'll wring his neck, too--if he has tried any of his games on me,"
+sobbed Isidore. "But it may not be a game. You are always so hasty."
+
+Castrillon read the letter through once more.
+
+"I can't believe that she wrote it," he said. "I'll swear she didn't."
+
+"And why?"
+
+"Because the style is not in keeping with her character, blockhead! She
+does not ask me--or any one else--to visit her at two o'clock in the
+morning."
+
+A revolting smile made the valet's loose-hanging, sullen lips quiver
+with emotion.
+
+"No, that is not Madame's style. She is too clever. But does that affect
+the opportunity!"
+
+"What opportunity?"
+
+"You have the letter. It is for Madame herself to deny the
+handwriting--not you. Why should you, of all people, think it a joke?
+Why not act upon it? Why not ask her what it means?"
+
+"At two in the morning? I have no wish to compromise Madame--not the
+least. She is too rich to compromise. She is the sort of lady one
+marries. Tell Mudara, with my compliments, he must understand gentlemen
+before he can play successful tricks upon them."
+
+"I will take my oath that I am not sure it is a trick," answered
+Isidore.
+
+Castrillon studied the letter for a third time.
+
+"Here and there," he said, "it has the ring of her voice, and the words
+are the words she uses."
+
+"With such a justification in my pocket, I know what I should do,"
+mumbled Isidore.
+
+"So do I. But you are the scum of the earth, and what you would, or
+wouldn't do, could only interest the hangman."
+
+The Marquis locked the note in his dressing-case, and handed his keys,
+with his usual simplicity, to Isidore.
+
+"I do not propose to tire myself with this nonsense before the play,"
+said he. "Get my raw eggs and milk."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At nine o'clock that evening, a brilliant company were gathered in the
+Salle de Comédie. Most of the Foreign Ambassadors, and about fifty
+illustrious personages of great social importance, were present. Prince
+d'Alchingen had resolved that the daughter of Henriette Duboc should
+have every opportunity of making a successful _début_ in England. He had
+sprinkled most judiciously among his guests a few accredited experts in
+various departments of knowledge, and these he hoped would lead
+appreciation into the right channel by explaining, at fit intervals,
+just why Mrs. Parflete was beautiful and just where her art had its
+especial distinction. The play itself--_La Seconde Surprise de
+l'Amour_--by Pierre de Marivaux, was quite unknown to the audience.
+Brigit and Castrillon had appeared in it at Madrid, and descriptions of
+their success were whispered through the room. The story of her birth,
+her unhappy marriage, her adventures in Spain, and her relations with De
+Hausée had quickened curiosity to the highest pitch. Was she really so
+young? was she really so pretty? was she going on the public stage, or
+would she remain an accomplished, semi-royal amateur? No one referred
+openly to the late Archduke Charles, but the facts that Madame Duboc had
+been his Canonical wife, that Mrs. Parflete was the one child of their
+union, kept the whole aristocratic assembly thrilled with the sense of
+taking part in something as distinguished as a Court function, as
+exciting as a Court scandal, and as bewildering as a Court conspiracy. A
+string orchestra--conducted by Strauss himself--played French melodies
+of the eighteenth century. Would there be any dancing? would she sing?
+Henriette Duboc had been compared, as a dancer, to La Guimard, said Sir
+Piers Harding to the Duchess of Lossett. And who was La Guimard? asked
+the Duchess. And was Mrs. Parflete at all like her mother? And did she
+bear the extraordinary resemblance, _of which so much had been made_, to
+Marie Antoinette? Sir Piers felt bound to own that the likeness was
+remarkable. And this de Hausée--what of him? Had Sir Piers seen the odd
+announcement, about his name and antecedents, in the _Times_? The
+Duchess didn't know what to think. It was all so very odd, but most
+interesting, of course. Was M. de Hausée, by any chance, in the
+audience? No. Well, perhaps it was better taste on his part to keep
+away. The bell rang. All eyes turned toward the blue satin curtains;
+they moved: the lights were lowered; the violins played a languorous
+air: with a rustle--not unlike that caused by the movement of wings--the
+curtains were drawn back and disclosed an empty garden. Then, following
+the stage direction, the Marquise entered "_tristement sur la scène_."
+The entrance was made quietly, and, for a breathless second, no one
+realised that the heroine of the evening had at last appeared. Her
+Grace of Lossett began to fear she felt a little disappointed when, in
+the nick of time, a great poet, who sat near her, murmured, "Divine."
+
+But at this point we may quote from the _Memoirs_ of Lady Julia
+Babington:--
+
+     _Mrs. Parflete's personal appearance caused an immediate furore.
+     Many disagreed about her claims to perfect beauty, but these
+     hostile feelings did not last longer than five minutes. She was an
+     extremely pretty woman; rather tall for her slight proportions, but
+     elegant to a surprising degree. The extraordinary charm of her
+     acting, her voice, her countenance, and her accent were delightful.
+     It would have been impossible to display more grace, simplicity,
+     and ingenuousness than she did: she gave several touches of pathos
+     in a manner to make one cry, and to quite enchant all who bad taste
+     enough and mind to appreciate her inimitable talent._
+
+And again in the Letters of Charlotte, Lady Pardwicke, we read:--
+
+     _If Mrs. Parflete can be called handsome, it is certainly a _figure
+     de fantasie_. She has a clear complexion, is young, tall; her
+     manners are _doucereuses_, for, besides being a beauty, she has
+     pretensions, I understand, to _bel-esprit_. The majority of those
+     present were undeniably captivated by her peculiar fascination._
+
+Augustus Barfield has the following remarks in his famous Journal:--
+
+     _There were no two opinions about the success of the _débutante_.
+     We had been led to expect a good deal, but fortunately every
+     description proved inaccurate, so, while she utterly failed to
+     realise any single preconceived idea, she had the great advantage
+     of appearing as some one wholly new. Rumour had prepared me equally
+     for a St. Elizabeth, a Mademoiselle Mars, a Marie-Antoinette, a
+     Récamier, or a Sophie Arnould. She resembled none of these
+     ladies--being far more tragic in her nature than the rather sensual
+     Queen of France, and she is clearly an uncommon individual in her
+     own right. The women will squabble about her looks; the men will
+     have views about her figure: all must agree that her fortune on the
+     stage is assured. A more pleasing performance I never saw. Love,
+     innocence, tenderness, grief, joy, petulance, uncertainty, modesty,
+     despair--every feminine attribute, in fact, showed to admiration in
+     her expressive features. Voice, bewitching. Gestures, exquisite.
+     All, in fact, was truly enjoyable. I would not have missed the
+     evening on any account._
+
+Orange, it is true, had not joined the general company. But Prince
+d'Alchingen for reasons of his own, however, had offered the young man a
+seat in the one small box which had a gilded _grille_ before it and was
+so made that it seemed part of the massive decoration.
+
+"You cannot be seen," said the Prince; "I won't tell her that you are
+present; and I give you my word of honour that I won't tell anybody--not
+even my wife."
+
+The temptation was irresistible. Robert accepted the invitation, and as
+he watched the play, it seemed to him that he had never known Brigit
+till that evening. He had seen her in dreams--yes; and talked to her in
+dreams, yes; but now at last she lived--a real creature. Lost in the
+part, she was able to throw aside the self-restraint which had given
+her always a cold, almost sexless quality. Her face betrayed a hundred
+changing emotions: the youth, strength, and passion so severely
+repressed in her own life came out, though still controlled, with full
+and perfect harmony in her art. It was one of those consummate
+revelations of temperament which, in silent or inactive lives, never
+come till the last hours before death--when in one look or one utterance
+all the time lost and all the long-concealed feelings take their
+reparation from existence. But with those who may express their true
+characters through the medium of some creative faculty, the illuminated
+moment comes at a psychic crisis--not to enforce the irony of death but
+to demonstrate and intensify the richness of humanity. The knowledge
+which depends upon suffering, and, in a way, springs from it, is good,
+yet it must always be incomplete. Happiness has its light also, and in
+order to get the right explanation of any soul, or to understand the
+eternal meaning of any situation, one must have had at least a few glad
+hours, felt the ecstasy of thoughtless joy, drifted a little while with
+the rushing, unhindered tide. As Robert, behind the _grille_, watched
+the animated, beautiful girl who seemed to typify the very springtime of
+the world, he felt he had peered too long at love and life through bars.
+He would have to break them, get on the other side, and join in the
+dazzling action. How unreal and far-away seemed all grief, remorse, or
+anxiety from that brilliant scene! Brigit was laughing, singing,
+dancing--fulfilling, surely enough, her real vocation. What! at
+seventeen, was she to sit pale, silent, tearful, and alone? At his age,
+was he to look on--with a dead heart and unseeing eyes, murmuring words
+of tame submission to a contemptuous Fate? His whole nature rose up in
+revolt, and the self he had once abdicated rushed back to him, howling
+out taunts which were not the less bitter because they were false. Not
+pausing to wonder whether the present were a profanation of the past, or
+the past an insipid forecast of the present, he was conscious only that
+a change--perhaps a terrible change--had taken place in his mind--a
+change so sudden and so violent that it had paralysed every power of
+analysis and reflection. Imaginative love--made up of renunciation and
+spirituality, gave way to the fierce desire to live, to silence the
+intolerable wisdom of the conscience, and learn folly for a space. He
+was madly jealous of Castrillon, who gazed into Brigit's eyes and
+uttered his lines with the most touching air of passionate devotion. She
+seemed to respond, and, in fact, their joint performance had that
+delicate, irresistible abandon--apparently unconscious and
+unpremeditated--which is only possible between two players who are not
+in love with each other. Where there is actual feeling, there is always
+a certain awkwardness and want of conviction (partly caused by the
+inadequacy of the diagram in comparison with the reality), and the
+charm, so far as art is concerned, is wholly lost. An acted love was the
+only love possible between Brigit and Castrillon; hence its sincerity on
+the stage, where, as a merely assumed thing, it harmonised perfectly
+with its artificial surroundings--the canvas landscape, the painted
+trees, the mechanical birds, and the sunlight produced by tricks of
+gauze and gas. But Orange did not stop to consider this. It was enough
+and too much to see his "sad spirit of the elfin race" completely
+transformed. Was this the child-like, immature being of their strange
+visit to Miraflores? That whole episode seemed a kind of phantasy--a
+Midsummer Night's music--nothing more, perhaps something less. The very
+title of the play--_The Second Surprise of Love_--carried a mocking
+significance. Sometimes the soul speaks first, sometimes the senses
+first influence a life, but the turn, soon or late, must inevitably come
+for each, and the man or woman, sick of materialism, who begins to
+suspect that the unseen world and its beauty is an inheritance more
+lasting and more to be desired than all the vindictive joys of this
+prison-house, has no such bitterness as the idealist who finds himself
+brought into thrilling touch with the physical loveliness, the actual
+enchantment, the undeniable delight of certain things in life. The
+questions, "What have I missed? What have I lost? What birthright have I
+renounced?" are bound to make themselves heard. They beat upon the heart
+like hail upon the sand--and fall buried in the scars they cause.
+Things of the flesh may and do become dead sea fruit; but things of the
+spirit often become stale and meaningless also. What is more weary than
+a tired mind? What joys and labours are more exhausting than those of
+the intellect, and the intellect only? Does an idle week in summer ever
+beget more lassitude or such disgust of life as a month--alone with
+books--in a library? Dissatisfaction and satiety, melancholy and fatigue
+show as plainly in the pages of à Kempis as they do in Schopenhauer, as
+they do in Lucretius, as they do in St. Bernard, as they do in
+Montaigne, in Marcus Aurelius, in Dante, in St. Teresa. They are,
+indeed, the ever-recurrent cries in human feeling, the ever-recurrent
+phases in human thought. Uninterrupted contentment was never yet found
+in any calling or state; the saints were haggard with combats; sleep,
+the most reposeful state we know, has its fearful sorrows, hideous
+terrors, pursuing uncertainties. Robert's spirit, stimulated by
+jealousy, played round these reflections, common enough at all times,
+but, as all common things, overwhelming at the first moment of their
+complete realisation. The original frame of his mind joined a defiance
+of formal precedent and an intense openness to every fine pleasure of
+sense with an impatience of all that makes for secrecy and an abhorrence
+of the substitutes which are sometimes basely, sometimes madly, accepted
+in default of true objects. He could not desire the star and find
+solace in the glow-worm--pursue Isolde and lag by the way with Moll
+Flanders. It was true that he had resolved to put stars and Isolde alike
+from his life. It was true that he had bound himself to certain fair
+ambitions beyond the determinations of calculation and experience. It
+was true that he had resolved to sacrifice this world to the next. He
+knew the claims which the world to come has upon us. But did he know the
+world he was renouncing? How that doubt opened the way to further
+doubts! Was he a fool for his pains? Was an enfeebling and afflicting of
+the natural man so necessary to the exaltation of the soul? Was the soul
+in itself so weak that it could only rest decently in a sick body? Could
+it only wish for something greater than this earth can give by being
+artificially saddened?
+
+Such questions have their answers, but they do not occur very readily to
+young men hopelessly in love and half out of their wits with jealousy.
+He might have taken refuge in prayer, but at that moment he did not want
+to pray. He wanted to think about himself, to be himself throughout the
+entire reach of his consciousness, to lose himself in the tempest of
+emotion which seemed to drive out, beat, and shatter every hindrance to
+its furious sweep. A smouldering fire is for a while got under, and yet
+by suppression is but thrown in, to spread more widely and deeply than
+before. So his fatal affection, perhaps pitilessly fought down in the
+first instance--asserted its power--its power for evil. Not to love was
+not to live. He was dead while he lived. He could not find peace in an
+invisible world of which he did not see any more even a shadow round
+about him. _Shall not the day of the Lord be darkness and not light?
+even very dark, and no brightness in it?_ He did not believe that. What
+miserable scruples to torment, blind, and pollute the soul! Pascal has
+written that there are thousands who sin without regret, who sin with
+gladness, who feel no warning and no interior desire not to sin. They
+doubted, hated, loved, acted, felt, and thought just as they pleased.
+Perhaps they were not happy, but if they received the punishment of
+wrong-doing, the wrong at least was committed out of fetters and
+joyously. It is not until men find themselves assailed by a strong wish
+that they perceive how very still and very small, all but inaudible, the
+still, small voice can be. A moment comes when one ceases to think--one
+wills, and if one is able and the will is sufficiently determined, the
+purpose is carried into effect. Temptations to steal, to lie, to
+deceive, to gamble, to excess in drink and the like cannot approach a
+certain order of mind. But the craving for knowledge and a fuller
+life--either in a spiritual or the human way--is implanted ineradicably
+in every soul, and while it may rest inert and seem nullified in a kind
+of apathy, the craving is there--to be aroused surely enough at some
+dangerous hour. And of all the dangerous hours in life, the hour of
+disappointed love is the most critical. Calm spectators of mortal folly
+who have been satisfactorily married for twenty years and more, who have
+sons to provide for and daughters to establish, cherish a disdain of
+love-stories and boast that they have no patience with morbidity.
+Love--which put them into being and keeps the earth in existence--seems
+to all such a silly malady peculiar to the sentimental in early youth.
+So they put the First Cause--in one of its many manifestations--in the
+waste-paper basket, asking each other what will become of Charles if he
+cannot find a rich wife, and poor Alice, if she cannot entrap a suitable
+husband. But there are others who look on life with some hope of
+understanding it truly, in part, at any rate, and these know, perhaps by
+experience, perhaps by sympathy, that whereas bodily disturbances may
+pass away leaving little or no effect upon the general health, all
+mental tumults are perpetual in their consequences: they never die out
+entirely, and they live, sometimes with appalling energy, sometimes with
+gnawing listlessness, to the end of an existence. Robert, in the
+judgment of his intellect and his senses, had found his ideal. Brigit
+did not belong to "the despised day of small things"; she was the woman
+of his imagination--the well-beloved, and having gained her, was he to
+say--Farewell? It seemed so. Meanwhile, the graceful, swaying dialogue
+rippled between the players on the stage; the smiling audience, hushed
+with interest, gazed at the delightful beings before them; the
+exquisite Marquise had uttered her two last speeches--
+
+    "_Je ne croyois pas l'amitié si dangereuse._"
+
+and--
+
+    "_Je ne me mêle plus de rien!_"
+
+Lubin brought the performance to an end by the final utterance--
+
+    "_Allons de la joie!_"
+
+The curtain fell--to rise again a dozen times. Orange did not hear the
+door of the box being opened. Prince d'Alchingen came in and put a hand
+on the young man's shoulder.
+
+"Would you like to see her?" he whispered. "I can arrange it. No one
+need know."
+
+But the training of a lifetime and constant habits of thought were
+stronger still than any mood.
+
+"No," said Robert, shortly, "I won't see her. I must get back to London
+at once."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+The Prince looked at him in astonishment.
+
+"You can't get to London to-night," said he; "there are no trains."
+
+"I can walk."
+
+"It is thirty-five miles."
+
+"I am accustomed to long walks."
+
+"At any rate you will have some supper first--in my little
+breakfast-room. Don't refuse, because I want you to meet Castrillon."
+
+"Castrillon! I should like to meet Castrillon."
+
+"Then I will tell him. You and he can take supper together. He doesn't
+want to join the big party. He has the artist's detestation of the
+chattering mob. How well he plays! And what a triumph for--Madame!"
+
+"A great triumph."
+
+"This corridor leads to my tiny cupboard--the merest cupboard! Follow
+me." They went through several doors and up several small staircases
+till they reached a small apartment furnished in old blue damask,
+heavily fringed with tarnished gold and silver decorations.
+
+"A few souvenirs of my hereditary castle in Alberia," explained the
+Prince; "they relieve my sense of exile."
+
+He walked across the floor and tapped on what appeared to be a portion
+of the wall.
+
+"We are here," said he.
+
+The secret door was opened, and Castrillon, still wearing his costume as
+the Chevalier, joined them. If one may believe Prince d'Alchingen's
+account of this unfortunate meeting, the young men greeted each other
+with composure. D'Alchingen declares that he studied Orange to the
+depths of his soul, and he does him the justice to say that he did not
+make a movement or utter a word which denoted the least emotion. There
+was not any sort of alteration in his countenance, and he led the
+conversation with a tranquillity and a gaiety really enchanting. When
+the supper was served, His Excellency had no hesitation in leaving the
+rivals together--so convinced was he that they would remain on good
+terms.
+
+"M. de Castrillon," said Orange, when the Prince had gone, "I cannot sit
+down at supper with you. We have to settle an old score."
+
+Castrillon bowed:
+
+"I am here to learn your wishes. I have heard from several sources that
+you wished to see me. If you have anything to say, pray say it quickly,
+because--I have an appointment with Mrs. Parflete."
+
+"Will you do me the favour to leave that lady's name out of the
+discussion?"
+
+"I see no reason why I should do you favours, M. de Hausée. But I am
+quite ready to atone for my indifference by any course of action which
+could satisfy the most scrupulous delicacy."
+
+"There is but one course of action open to us."
+
+"I shall be happy to have the honour of meeting you on your own terms.
+But," he added, contemptuously, "we are both wasting our time over a
+worthless woman. She was seen leaving your lodgings on Wednesday last. I
+have just heard this. And I received, before the play began this
+evening, a letter from her fixing a _rendez-vous_ for two o'clock. If
+you doubt me I can show you the letter. I am as much disappointed as you
+are. She has fooled us both. Before God I could have sworn she was a
+religious and modest woman."
+
+His chagrin was so genuine that it was impossible to doubt his good
+faith.
+
+"It is a lie," said Orange; "she was never at my lodgings."
+
+"I don't call _you_ a liar, M. de Hausée, but I can prove my words,
+whereas it might be difficult to prove yours. I can show you the
+letter."
+
+"She never wrote it."
+
+Castrillon sat on the edge of the table, and poured out some wine.
+
+"That is what I said," he replied, "when I read it. So long as we are
+going to fight, let it be because we hate each other, and not because we
+have both been deceived by the same prude."
+
+"In other words," said Orange, quietly, "you wish to drive a good
+bargain, knowing that whether you utter one insult or twenty, I can but
+fight you once."
+
+"_A l'outrance_, however," answered Castrillon, dipping a biscuit into
+the glass.
+
+"Yes, _à l'outrance_."
+
+"This being the case, let me tell you a few of my ideas. You find life
+very hard. I find it altogether amusing. I don't love a woman the less
+when I cease to honour her. I don't honour a man the less when I detest
+him. If you should kill me, M. de Hausée, it will be the most
+respectable occurrence in my immortality. But if I should kill you, it
+will be the vile conclusion of an exemplary career."
+
+"Your conversation is most entertaining, Monsieur. I am, unhappily, in
+no mood to listen to it. May I ask you to meet me to-morrow with your
+second at three o'clock at Calais? We can then go on to Dunkerque and
+settle this difference."
+
+"I am perfectly agreeable."
+
+They arranged a few more details and parted. The interview, which took
+place in French, is not easily reproduced in English. Orange wrote one
+account of the scene, and Castrillon confided another to Prince
+d'Alchingen, and the above is probably as nearly as possible a faithful
+description of what actually passed.
+
+Robert left Hadley Lodge, and plunged through the darkness toward
+London. He reached Vigo Street about seven o'clock in the morning. It
+was Sunday, and the streets were silent. He let himself into the house
+with a latch-key, and groped his way up the creaking unlit staircase. On
+entering his room, the draught between the open window and the door set
+all his papers whirling from his writing-table, and, by a strange
+accident, dislodged his crucifix from its nail. It fell to the ground,
+and when he picked it up, the small Figure was broken. This accident
+seemed an ill omen, but he put it from his thoughts, and scrawled a
+hasty letter to Charles Aumerle, asking him to be his second. This he
+delivered himself at Aumerle's chambers in St. James's Place, saying
+that he would call for an answer at nine. But Aumerle, ever fond of
+adventures, was at Vigo Street at half-past eight.
+
+"If you are bent upon it," said he, "I will do everything in my power to
+see it through. I think you are quite right. Every one will say the
+same."
+
+The two left for Calais by the first boat that morning. Castrillon, and
+Isidore, and a young Frenchman, M. de Lamoignon, were on board also. At
+Calais the two seconds conferred, and the duel was arranged to take
+place in a field near Dunkerque on the following morning. On the
+following morning, the four men met. The combatants were placed at
+fifteen paces from each other. They fired simultaneously and Castrillon
+fell--mortally wounded.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+
+Brigit returned on Monday to Pensée at Curzon Street. It was the
+anniversary of Lord Fitz Rewes's death. The two women went to Catesby,
+where they visited his grave together, prayed together, and, in the
+quiet evening, sat by the library fire.
+
+"This is a great contrast for you after all the excitement on Saturday
+night," said Pensée. "You are full of surprises, Brigit. Few young
+girls, having made such a brilliant success, would care to spend their
+time with poor, dull women like me. They would naturally wish to enjoy
+the triumph."
+
+Brigit's eyes filled with tears.
+
+"I know what you mean, _cher coeur_," she answered, "but there are no
+triumphs for any artist. We suffer and we work--sometimes we are able to
+please. But we suffer and work because we must; whereas we please by the
+merest accident."
+
+"That is true, no doubt. One might as well speak of a successful saint
+as a successful artist. Every saint is not canonized, and every artist
+is not praised. But surely appreciation is a help."
+
+"Yes, dearest; and I am grateful for it. And it gives encouragement to
+one's friends!"
+
+"Let us suppose that they had not cared for your acting, dear child.
+What then?"
+
+"I should have known that it was my vocation just the same. Don't
+believe that I shan't have my full share of doubts and struggles. This
+little first step makes me the more anxious about my next."
+
+The older woman looked at her, and sighed deeply.
+
+"You are too young to know life so well! I am sure you have suffered
+more severely than any of us--who say more and cry more. Your face has
+changed a good deal in the last day or two. In one way, it isn't so
+pretty as it was."
+
+"No one can look quite so plain as I can look, Pensée," she answered,
+laughing.
+
+"Let me finish what I had in my mind! You are not so pretty--not so much
+like a picture. But when I see you now, I don't think about your
+features at all. I watch your expressions--they suggest the whole world
+to me--all the things I have thought and felt. Rachel's face is like
+that. I am sure now that you were meant to be an actress. I have been
+very stupid. How I wish I understood you better, and could be more of a
+friend. I don't understand Robert entirely. Do you?"
+
+"Yes, I understand him."
+
+"I wonder how you came to love each other. I suppose it happened for the
+best. But it seems such a pity"--she paused and then repeated the
+words--"it seems such a pity that all doesn't come right--in the
+old-fashioned way."
+
+"It has come right, dear," said Brigit; "perfectly right."
+
+"You try to think so."
+
+"I know it. His father sinned, and my father sinned. We were born for
+unhappiness. Unhappiness and misgivings are in our very blood."
+
+"But how unjust!"
+
+"No, dearest, on the contrary, it is strict justice. The laws of the
+universe are immutable. You might as well ask that fire should only burn
+sometimes--that it may be water, or air, or earth to suit sentimental
+occasions."
+
+"I don't like to see you so sensible--it's--it's _unlikely_."
+
+Brigit smiled at the word--a favourite one with Pensée when persons and
+events differed from the serene, unreasoned fiction which she called her
+experience.
+
+"How can you call anything unlikely?" asked the girl. "I ought never to
+have been born at all, and Life has made no provision for me. She is
+boisterous and homely--like a housekeeper at an inn. She doesn't know
+me, and she has prepared no room for me. But I may rest on the
+staircase--that's under shelter at least."
+
+"What whimsical ideas, darling!"
+
+"Ah, to feel as I feel, you must have had my parents. You mustn't
+suppose that I woke up one morning and saw the reason for all my
+troubles. The reason did not come as though it were the sun shining into
+the room. Oh, no! I found no answer for a long, long time. But I feel it
+now. My father could not take me into his world, and my mother's
+world--_I_ could not take. They wished to know that I was protected, so
+they found some one who knew the story, and knew both worlds. I was
+grateful, because I didn't understand. And when I understood I was still
+grateful, but I couldn't accept the terms. My marriage was not so
+terrible as many marriages. Yet it was terrible enough. Don't let us
+talk of it, Pensée. It is hopeless to quarrel with logic. Science is
+calm--as calm as the hills."
+
+"And Robert?" said the older woman. "What about Robert?"
+
+"His father was a Dominican. The Church will have her own again. Be
+quite sure of that!
+
+    _'Thy justice is like the great mountains.
+      Thy judgments are a great deep.'_
+
+In God's way, all will come right. Every debt must be paid."
+
+Although they had arranged to journey back to London the following day,
+the woods and gardens looked so fair, the peace of that house was so
+great, that they lingered there till Wednesday. Brigit was unusually
+silent. She sat for hours at the library window looking across the
+Channel toward France, her countenance drawn and white, all its
+loveliness departed.
+
+Once she spoke--
+
+"I know that Robert is in sorrow."
+
+"Are you anxious? Shall I write?" asked Pensée, secretly troubled also.
+
+"No, I am not anxious. There is sorrow, but I am not anxious."
+
+Her room adjoined Pensée's, and, in the night, Pensée, sleepless, heard
+her walking to and fro, with even steps, till sunrise. When they met in
+the morning, Brigit seemed to have aged by ten years. Her youth
+returned, but the character of her face had altered for ever. She was
+never called pretty again. It was said that she varied and depended
+wholly on her moods. She could make herself anything, but nature had
+given her little more than a pair of eyes, a nose, and a
+mouth--indifferent good. Lady Fitz Rewes was appalled at the
+transformation. Remembering stories of the last dreadful touches of
+consumption, she feared for the girl's health. "She will die before
+long," she thought. But death can occur more than once in one life. The
+passing away of every strong emotion means a burial and a grave, a
+change, and a resurrection. The tearful, dusty, fiery, airy process must
+be endured seventy times seven and more, and more again--from
+everlasting to everlasting. And the cause is nothing, the motives are
+nothing, the great, great affliction and the child's little woe pass
+alike through the Process--for the Process belongs to the eternal law,
+whereas the rest is of the heart's capacity.
+
+The way to the city--through the beautiful south of England, beautiful
+at all seasons of the year and sad also at all seasons--brought
+something which resembled calm to both their minds. Dwellings closely
+packed together destroy, or disturb, the finer vision of the grandeur,
+sternness, and depth of life. At Catesby, the solitude and the waves
+exercised their power over the spirit, diverting it from trivial
+speculations to awe and wonder. There, where the unseen could move
+freely and the invisible manifest itself on the perpetual rocks, the
+towering trees, the still green fields, and the vast acres of the sea,
+one could hear the dreaming prophet proclaim the burden of the Lord; and
+the voice of mirth and the voice of gladness, the voice of the
+bridegroom and the voice of the bride, the sound of the mill-stones and
+the light of the candle mattered not. But the kingdom of all the
+worlds--the worlds and habitations not made with hands--rose up as the
+real theatre of man's destiny and the fit measure of his achievements.
+It is that sense of the eternity of consequences--and that sense
+only--which can satisfy the human heart. Time is too short, this planet
+is too small, and this mortal body is too weak for the surging thoughts,
+the unintelligible desires of the soul. Nothing less than infinity can
+hallow emotions: their passingness--which seems the rule in the fever
+and turmoil of city life--is not their abatement but their degradation.
+Change they must, but perish utterly they may not.
+
+The women travellers, as the lights of the capital grew more numerous,
+and the roar of the traffic louder and more constant, drew back within
+themselves, assuming, unconsciously, the outward bearing--fatigued,
+sceptical, and self-distrustful--of the town-bred. When they reached
+Curzon Street, the two heaps of letters, the telegrams and cards on the
+hall-table symbolised crudely enough the practical side of daily
+affairs. One name--an unknown one--among the many engraved on the white
+scraps caught Brigit's attention at once:
+
+                                _The Rev. J. M. Foster._
+
+"That gentleman is a priest, Madam," said the butler; "he will call
+again this evening. I told him that we expected you and her Ladyship
+about seven."
+
+For some reason she felt alarmed. All that day and the night before she
+had been agitated by an inexplicable dread of strange tidings. She went
+to her room, but, without removing her travelling cloak or her hat, she
+sat down on the edge of her bed, waiting for some summons. Presently it
+came. Father Foster was in the library with Lady Fitz Rewes. Would Mrs.
+Parflete see him? She went down, and Pensée stood watching for her at
+the open door.
+
+"My poor child!" she said, with a sob in her voice, as she drew Brigit
+into the room. "My poor child," she repeated, "Father Foster has come to
+tell us that--that Mr. Parflete died last night."
+
+The priest stepped forward with the decision, and also the stern
+kindness, of those accustomed to break hard messages.
+
+"He was injured in a quarrel, and died from the effect of the wound. He
+declined to give any particulars of the affair, and I fear we must call
+it a mystery. He asked me to say that his last words to you were these:
+_Amate da cui male aveste_--Love those from whom ye have had evil."
+
+He looked at her compassionately as he spoke, wondering, no doubt, how
+great the evil had been.
+
+"Can I go to him?" asked Brigit; "where is he?"
+
+"Where he died--in his room at the hotel."
+
+"I will go with you," said Pensée. She held Brigit's hand, and exchanged
+a long glance with Father Foster.
+
+"Did you say," she asked, "that he left any letters or papers?"
+
+"He destroyed all his papers, but he has left one letter addressed to
+you. He wished me to say, in the presence of Mrs. Parflete, that this
+had reference to some false report about her visiting Mr. Orange's
+lodgings. Mr. Parflete saw the lady who went to Vigo Street, and he did
+not know who she was. One thing, however, he did know: he had never seen
+her before."
+
+Brigit inclined her head, but remained motionless, where she first
+halted when she entered the room.
+
+"Did he die in pain?" she asked.
+
+"I am afraid he suffered greatly."
+
+"Was his mind at peace?"
+
+"I believe so--from my heart."
+
+"He had less to fear from God than man."
+
+"The justice of God is severe," said the priest, "but He can never make
+mistakes. The hardest cruelties in this life are the mistakes which we
+commit in judging others--perhaps in judging ourselves."
+
+"The carriage is at the door," whispered Pensée, touching Brigit's arm.
+"Shall we go?"
+
+Nothing was said during the drive to the hotel near Covent Garden.
+Brigit sat with closed eyes and folded hands while Lady Fitz Rewes, lost
+in thought, stared out of the window. At last the horses stopped.
+
+"This is the place," said Father Foster.
+
+A large gas-lamp hung over the entrance, and two Swiss waiters, with
+forced solemnity, ushered the party through the hall and up the
+staircase. They tapped at a door, listened, from force of habit, for an
+answer which never came, and then turned the handle. Parflete's bed had
+been moved to the centre of the room. There was a table covered with a
+white cloth, on which four candles burnt. By the window there was a
+chair littered with illustrated newspapers.
+
+"The nurse has just gone down to his supper," explained one of the
+waiters, "but _le mort est bien convenable_."
+
+The dead man had been dressed in a rose-silk shirt embroidered with
+forget-me-nots. Upon his crossed arms lay a small ivory crucifix. In
+place of his wig he wore a black velvet skull-cap. The face was yellow:
+the features seemed set in a defiant, ironical smile. Hardship, terror,
+remorse, and physical agony had left their terrible scars upon his
+countenance.
+
+Brigit, overcome at the sight of these awful changes, fell weeping on
+Pensée's shoulder.
+
+"Thank God!" she whispered, "he has no more to fear from men."
+
+When she grew calmer, she knelt down by the body, and told them that she
+would watch there that night.
+
+"Madness!" exclaimed Lady Fitz Rewes.
+
+"No, no! I wish to do it."
+
+The priest stated a few objections, but she remained firm in her
+resolve.
+
+"He was my father's friend," she said, quietly.
+
+They both noticed that she never once referred to Parflete as her
+husband.
+
+"If you stay, Brigit, I too will stay," said Pensée.
+
+"That, dearest, you must decide for yourself. In any case, I cannot
+leave him. Tell the nurse not to come back. And let me be alone here for
+a little while."
+
+Lady Fitz Rewes and Father Foster went downstairs to the coffee-room,
+and made a pretence of eating dinner. The two talked about the
+deplorable marriage, the Orange affair, Brigit's talents. Of course, she
+was very young. But Rachel--the great Rachel--made her first triumph at
+seventeen.
+
+"One doesn't like to say it," observed Pensée, "but this death seems
+providential. If she marries Orange, she will give up the stage. Poor
+child! At last it really looks as though she might be happy--like other
+people."
+
+"Like other people," repeated the priest, mechanically.
+
+"I must send word to my housekeeper that I intend to remain here all
+night. And I should like our letters--I had no time to look at them."
+
+A messenger was despatched, and they resumed their former conversation.
+
+"I am afraid," said Pensée, "that poor Mr. Parflete was dreadfully
+wicked."
+
+The priest sighed, and made some remarks about the dead man's
+intellectual brilliancy:
+
+"He had great learning."
+
+"Tell me, Father, with all your experience, do you understand life?"
+asked Pensée, abruptly.
+
+"Let me take refuge in a quotation--
+
+                        _'Justice divine
+    Mends not her slowest pace for pray'rs or cries.'_
+
+I can understand that at least," answered the priest.
+
+"How odd that you should speak of justice. Brigit was talking in the
+same strain only yesterday. It's a gloomy strain--for a young girl."
+
+"I don't think so. One shouldn't sentimentalise. Life goes on, it
+doesn't halt: it's a constant development. I haven't much patience
+with----"
+
+He stopped short.
+
+"Pray finish the sentence."
+
+"Well, I haven't much patience with those who want to linger, and look
+back, and cheat time. One must get along."
+
+Pensée felt annoyed, and began to talk coldly about the housing of the
+poor, and winters which she had spent in Florence.
+
+"Here are your letters," exclaimed her companion suddenly.
+
+She turned them over with languid interest, murmuring unconsciously to
+herself the names of her correspondents.
+
+"From dear Ethel. Why is she in Edinburgh? I hope her father isn't ill
+again. Alice. Uncle. Mrs. Lanark. Mary Butler. Prince d'Alchingen. That
+tiresome Miss Bates. Mr. Seward." She paused and flushed deeply.
+"Robert."
+
+Then she turned to Father Foster with shining eyes.
+
+"This letter," said she, "is from Mr. Orange. Don't you admire his
+handwriting?"
+
+"A beautiful hand, certainly."
+
+"I wonder what he has to say, and why he is abroad. Isn't that a foreign
+stamp?"
+
+"The post-mark is Paris."
+
+"So it is. Will you excuse me if I read it."
+
+She broke the seal, and read the contents, while every vestige of colour
+left her face.
+
+"I can't make it out," she said; "there must be another letter for
+Brigit. Will you look?"
+
+He untied the packet, and recognised presently Orange's handwriting on
+an envelope.
+
+"You seem rather displeased," said Pensée; "you think this is all very
+strange. It--it isn't a common case."
+
+"No case is common."
+
+"Well, you must help me to decide whether I ought to give her this
+letter at once. I can't take so much responsibility."
+
+"Neither can I. She is a perfectly free woman now, at any rate."
+
+He did not approve of the situation, and he made no attempt to conceal
+his feelings. His face became set. Pensée thought she detected a certain
+reprimand in the very tone of his voice.
+
+"It isn't a common case," she repeated again. "He says he is on his way
+to Rome--to the Jesuits--for a long Retreat, if they will take him. If
+he knew--what has happened--he might change his mind."
+
+"What! you would have him turn back?"
+
+"Oh, don't be so hard."
+
+"I am not hard," he added more gently. "But would this woman, if she
+really loved him, wish him to turn back? And, if there is anything in
+him, could he ever be happy in any stopping short of the fullest
+renunciation--once resolved on that renunciation?"
+
+"Ah, don't put it that way to her. She has had so much trouble already.
+Your Church seems so selfish. Forgive me, but I do resent these celibate
+views. They are unnatural."
+
+"I shan't interfere. Take her the letter by all means. She must decide
+for herself."
+
+Pensée rose from the table, and went up the stairs to the room where
+Brigit still knelt by Parflete's dead body.
+
+"Dearest," said Lady Fitz Rewes, "I think you ought to read this letter.
+I have had one also. Robert thinks of taking a great step, and
+perhaps----"
+
+Her glance met Brigit's.
+
+"No," said Brigit, under her breath: "no."
+
+Then, with trembling hands, she read the letter once, twice, three
+times.
+
+"Say something," said Pensée, touching her. "Say something, Brigit."
+
+She smiled and held the letter to the candle flame. It caught fire and
+burnt away quickly while she held it.
+
+"Mind your hand--it will catch your hand."
+
+"I don't feel it," said Brigit. She bore the scar of that burn always.
+
+"Say something," implored Pensée.
+
+"He is on his way to Rome. He asks me not to write to him. Castrillon is
+dying. They fought a duel."
+
+"But of course you will write--now. You must write."
+
+"Hasn't my love done harm enough already? I will never see him again. I
+shall never write to him again."
+
+"You can't mean that. You can't realise what you are saying. People will
+like him all the better for fighting Castrillon."
+
+"Oh, it isn't the duel, Pensée. He sees his way clearly. He has always
+tried not to see it. I, too, have tried not to see it. But all that is
+at an end now."
+
+"And he will renounce his career."
+
+"Everything! Everything!"
+
+Pensée threw up her hands, and left the room. Father Foster was standing
+under a gas-jet at the end of the corridor reading his office. He looked
+at Lady Fitz Rewes.
+
+"She won't stand in his way?" he asked quietly.
+
+"She won't stand in his way," she answered. "I hope you realise what
+that means--to her."
+
+"I hope I can realise what it means to both of them," said he.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+
+In 1879, a distinguished author who was engaged in writing a history of
+the Catholic Movement in England, begged Mr. Disraeli, then Earl of
+Beaconsfield, for some particulars, not generally known, of Robert
+Orange's life.
+
+He replied as follows:--
+
+                                HUGHENDEN MANOR, _Nov. 28, 1879_.
+
+     MY DEAR F.,--You ask me for an estimate of Monsignor Orange.
+     Questions are always easy. Let me offer you facts in return. The
+     Castrillon duel was a nine days' wonder--much discussed and soon
+     forgotten. Castrillon left a letter with his second, M. de
+     Lamoignon, to the effect that he had offered Orange "intolerable
+     insults" which "no man of honour" could have suffered. Mrs.
+     Parflete's name did not transpire, but Prince d'Alchingen and
+     others gave speculation no industry on the matter. We were at no
+     loss to know the real cause of the quarrel. Orange applied for the
+     Chiltern Hundreds and went into strict retreat for six months.
+     During that time he saw no friends, wrote no letters, read none. I
+     remember his conduct was severely criticised, because the death of
+     Parflete opened out other possibilities of action. He was not a
+     man, however, whom one could order to be this, that, or the other;
+     still less could one reproach him for not being this, that, or the
+     other. It was his faith to believe that salvation rests on the
+     negation and renunciation of personality. He pushed this to the
+     complete suppression of his Will, tenderly considered. I need not
+     detain you on the familiar dogmas of Christianity with regard to
+     the reign of nature and the reign of grace. Your view may be
+     expressed thus:--
+
+        "_Puis-qu'il aime à périr, je consens qu'il périsse,_"
+
+    and you will think that Orange said of Mrs. Parflete, as Polyeucte
+    of his wife:--
+
+    _"Je ne regarde Pauline
+    Que comme un obstacle à mon bien."_
+
+    This would be an injustice. Orange was, to me, a deeply interesting
+    character. I saw little of him after he entered the priesthood, but
+    his writings, his sermons, and the actual work he accomplished
+    proved conclusively enough that he was right in following--and we
+    were wrong in opposing--his true vocation. The Church received her
+    own again. Rome did not smile at him at first. A de Hausée, however,
+    never yet tapped long at any gate. The family--which had been
+    stirred to fury by his father's trespass--welcomed the son as a
+    prodigal manqué. His aunt, the Princess Varese, left him half of her
+    large fortune. He lived himself in great seclusion and simplicity,
+    and died, as you are aware, of over-work last year. The one friend
+    he corresponded with and occasionally saw was Lady Fitz Rewes. Sara
+    de Treverell did not marry the Duke of Marshire, but three years
+    before Orange's death she took the veil, and is now a Carmelite nun.
+    Many people were amazed at this, but I was not. Mrs. Parflete,
+    Orange never saw again after the night of her performance at Prince
+    d'Alchingen's. Her career continues. From time to time a rumour
+    reaches me that she is about to marry a nobleman, an author, her
+    manager, or an American millionaire. Quite a mistake. She, too, is a
+    visionary, and, I should say, respectable. If you have not seen her
+    act, seize the first opportunity. If you think of writing more than
+    the merest sketch of Orange's strange career, may I suggest the
+    following motto from the _Purgatorio_?--
+
+        "_Cast down the seed of weeping and attend._"
+
+                        Yours very sincerely, my dear F.,
+
+                                BEACONSFIELD.
+
+UNWIN BROTHERS, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOKING AND LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+BOOKS FOR RECREATION AND STUDY
+
+PUBLISHED BY
+T. FISHER UNWIN,
+11, PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS,
+LONDON, E.C....
+
+
+
+
+SIX-SHILLING NOVELS
+
+_In uniform green cloth, large crown 8vo., gilt tops_, 6s.
+
+
+  Effie Hetherington. By ROBERT BUCHANAN. Second Edition.
+  An Outcast of the Islands. By JOSEPH CONRAD. Second Edition.
+  Almayer's Folly. By JOSEPH CONRAD. Second Edition.
+  The Ebbing of the Tide. By LOUIS BECKE. Second Edition.
+  A First Fleet Family. By LOUIS BECKE and WALTER JEFFERY.
+  Paddy's Woman, and Other Stories. By HUMPHREY JAMES.
+  Clara Hopgood. By MARK RUTHERFORD. Second Edition.
+  The Tales of John Oliver Hobbes. Portrait of the Author. Second Edition.
+  The Stickit Minister. By S. R. CROCKETT. Eleventh Edition.
+  The Lilac Sunbonnet. By S. R. CROCKETT. Sixth Edition.
+  The Raiders. By S. R. CROCKETT. Eighth Edition.
+  The Grey Man. By S. R. CROCKETT.
+  In a Man's Mind. By J. R. WATSON.
+  A Daughter of the Fen. By J. T. BEALBY. Second Edition.
+  The Herb-Moon. By JOHN OLIVER HOBBES. Third Edition.
+  Nancy Noon. By BENJAMIN SWIFT. Second Edition. With New Preface.
+  Mr. Magnus. By F. REGINALD STATHAM. Second Edition.
+  Trooper Peter Halket of Mashonaland. By OLIVE SCHREINER. Frontispiece.
+  Pacific Tales. By LOUIS BECKE. With Frontispiece Portrait of the Author.
+    Second Edition.
+  Mrs. Keith's Crime. By Mrs. W. K. CLIFFORD. Sixth Edition. With Portrait
+    of Mrs. Keith by the HON. JOHN COLLIER, and a New Preface by the
+    Author.
+  Hugh Wynne. By Dr. S. WEIR MITCHELL. With Frontispiece Illustration.
+  The Tormentor. By BENJAMIN SWIFT, Author of "Nancy Noon."
+  Prisoners of Conscience. By AMELIA E. BARR, Author of "Jan Vedder's
+    Wife." With 12 Illustrations.
+  The Gods, some Mortals and Lord Wickenham. New Edition. By JOHN OLIVER
+    HOBBES.
+  The Outlaws of the Marches. By LORD ERNEST HAMILTON. Fully illustrated.
+  The School for Saints: Part of the History of the Right Honourable Robert
+    Orange, M.P. By JOHN OLIVER HOBBES, Author of "Sinner's Comedy," "Some
+    Emotions and a Moral," "The Herb Moon," &c.
+  The People of Clopton. By GEORGE BARTRAM.
+
+
+
+WORKS BY JOSEPH CONRAD
+
+I.
+
+AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS
+
+_Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"Subject to the qualifications thus disposed of (_vide_ first part of
+notice), 'An Outcast of the Islands' is perhaps the finest piece of
+fiction that has been published this year, as 'Almayer's Folly' was one
+of the finest that was published in 1895.... Surely this is real
+romance--the romance that is real. Space forbids anything but the merest
+recapitulation of the other living realities of Mr. Conrad's
+invention--of Lingard, of the inimitable Almayer, the one-eyed
+Babalatchi, the Naturalist, of the pious Abdulla--all novel, all
+authentic. Enough has been written to show Mr. Conrad's quality. He
+imagines his scenes and their sequence like a master; he knows his
+individualities and their hearts; he has a new and wonderful field in
+this East Indian Novel of his.... Greatness is deliberately written; the
+present writer has read and re-read his two books, and after putting
+this review aside for some days to consider the discretion of it, the
+word still stands."--_Saturday Review._
+
+
+II.
+
+ALMAYER'S FOLLY
+
+_Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"This startling, unique, splendid book." Mr. T. P. O'CONNOR, M.P.
+
+"This is a decidedly powerful story of an uncommon type, and breaks
+fresh ground in fiction.... All the leading characters in the
+book--Almayer, his wife, his daughter, and Dain, the daughter's native
+lover--are well drawn, and the parting between father and daughter has a
+pathetic naturalness about it, unspoiled by straining after effect.
+There are, too, some admirably graphic passages in the book. The
+approach of a monsoon is most effectively described.... The name of Mr.
+Joseph Conrad is new to us, but it appears to us as if he might become
+the Kipling of the Malay Archipelago."--_Spectator._
+
+
+
+
+THE EBBING OF THE TIDE by LOUIS BECKE
+Author of "By Reef and Palm"
+
+_Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"Mr. Louis Becke wields a powerful pen, with the additional advantage
+that he waves it in unfrequented places, and summons up with it the
+elemental passions of human nature.... It will be seen that Mr. Becke is
+somewhat of the fleshly school, but with a pathos and power not given to
+the ordinary professors of that school.... Altogether for those who like
+stirring stories cast in strange scenes, this is a book to be
+read."--_National Observer._
+
+
+
+
+PACIFIC TALES by LOUIS BECKE
+With a Portrait of the Author
+
+_Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"The appearance of a new book by Mr. Becke has become an event of
+note--and very justly. No living author, if we except Mr. Kipling, has
+so amazing a command of that unhackneyed vitality of phrase that most
+people call by the name of realism. Whether it is scenery or character
+or incident that he wishes to depict, the touch is ever so dramatic
+and vivid that the reader is conscious of a picture and impression
+that has no parallel save in the records of actual sight and
+memory."--_Westminster Gazette._
+
+"Another series of sketches of island life in the South Seas, not
+inferior to those contained in 'By Reef and Palm.'"--_Speaker._
+
+"The book is well worth reading. The author knows what he is talking
+about and has a keen eye for the picturesque."--_G. B. Burgin in
+To-day._
+
+"A notable contribution to the romance of the South Seas."--T. P.
+O'CONNOR, M.P., in _The Graphic_.
+
+
+
+
+PADDY'S WOMAN by HUMPHREY JAMES
+
+_Crown 8vo._, 6s.
+
+
+"Traits of the Celt of humble circumstances are copied with keen
+appreciation and unsparing accuracy."--_Scotsman._
+
+" ... They are full of indescribable charm and pathos."--_Bradford
+Observer._
+
+"The outstanding merit of this series of stories is that they are
+absolutely true to life ... the photographic accuracy and minuteness
+displayed are really marvellous."--_Aberdeen Free Press._
+
+"'Paddy's Woman and Other Stories' by Humphrey James; a volume written
+in the familiar diction of the Ulster people themselves, with perfect
+realism and very remarkable ability.... For genuine human nature and
+human relations, and humour of an indescribable kind, we are unable to
+cite a rival to this volume."--_The World._
+
+"For a fine subtle piece of humour we are inclined to think that 'A
+Glass of Whisky' takes a lot of beating.... In short Mr. Humphrey James
+has given us a delightful book, and one which does as much credit to his
+heart as to our head. We shall look forward with a keen anticipation to
+the next 'writings' by this shrewd, 'cliver,' and compassionate young
+author."--_Bookselling._
+
+
+
+
+A FIRST FLEET FAMILY: BEING A HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED NARRATIVE OF
+CERTAIN REMARKABLE ADVENTURES COMPILED FROM THE PAPERS OF SERGEANT
+WILLIAM DEW, OF THE MARINES by LOUIS BECKE and WALTER JEFFERY
+
+_Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"As convincingly real and vivid as a narrative can be."--_Sketch._
+
+"No maker of plots could work out a better story of its kind, nor
+balance it more neatly."--_Daily Chronicle._
+
+"A book which describes a set of characters varied and so attractive as
+the more prominent figures in this romance, and a book so full of life,
+vicissitude, and peril, should be welcomed by every discreet novel
+reader."--_Yorkshire Post._
+
+"A very interesting tale, written in clear and vigorous
+English."--_Globe._
+
+"The novel is a happy blend of truth and fiction, with a purpose that
+will be appreciated by many readers; it has also the most exciting
+elements of the tale of adventure."--_Morning Post._
+
+
+
+
+THE TALES OF JOHN OLIVER HOBBES
+With a Frontispiece Portrait of the Author
+
+_Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"The cleverness of them all is extraordinary."--_Guardian._
+
+"The volume proves how little and how great a thing it is to write a
+'Pseudonym.' Four whole 'Pseudonyms' ... are easily contained within its
+not extravagant limits, and these four little books have given John
+Oliver Hobbes a recognized position as a master of epigram and narrative
+comedy."--_St. James's Gazette._
+
+"As her star has been sudden in its rise so may it stay long with us!
+Some day she may give us something better than these tingling, pulsing,
+mocking, epigrammatic morsels."--_Times._
+
+"There are several literary ladies, of recent origin, who have tried to
+come up to the society ideal; but John Oliver Hobbes is by far the best
+writer of them all, by far the most capable artist in fiction.... She is
+clever enough for anything."--_Saturday Review._
+
+
+
+
+THE HERB MOON by JOHN OLIVER HOBBES
+
+_Third Edition, Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"The jaded reader who needs sauce for his literary appetite cannot do
+better than buy 'The Herb Moon.'"--_Literary World._
+
+"A book to hail with more than common pleasure. The epigrammatic
+quality, the power of rapid analysis and brilliant presentation are
+there, and added to these a less definable quality, only to be described
+as charm.... 'The Herb Moon' is as clever as most of its predecessors,
+and far less artificial."--_Athenæum._
+
+
+
+
+THE STICKIT MINISTER AND SOME COMMON MEN by S. R. CROCKETT
+
+_Eleventh Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"Here is one of the books which are at present coming singly and at long
+intervals, like early swallows, to herald, it is to be hoped, a larger
+flight. When the larger flight appears, the winter of our discontent
+will have passed, and we shall be able to boast that the short story can
+make a home east as well as west of the Atlantic. There is plenty of
+human nature--of the Scottish variety, which is a very good variety--in
+'The Stickit Minister' and its companion stories; plenty of humour, too,
+of that dry, pawky kind which is a monopoly of 'Caledonia, stern and
+wild'; and, most plentiful of all, a quiet perception and reticent
+rendering of that underlying pathos of life which is to be discovered,
+not in Scotland alone, but everywhere that a man is found who can see
+with the heart and the imagination as well as the brain. Mr. Crockett
+has given us a book that is not merely good, it is what his countrymen
+would call 'by-ordinar' good,' which, being interpreted into a tongue
+understanded of the southern herd, means that it is excellent, with a
+somewhat exceptional kind of excellence."--_Daily Chronicle._
+
+
+
+
+THE LILAC SUN-BONNET by S. R. CROCKETT
+
+_Sixth Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"Mr. Crockett's 'Lilac Sun-Bonnet' 'needs no bush.' Here is a pretty
+love tale, and the landscape and rural descriptions carry the exile back
+into the Kingdom of Galloway. Here, indeed, is the scent of bog-myrtle
+and peat. After inquiries among the fair, I learn that of all romances,
+they best love not 'sociology,' not 'theology,' still less, open
+manslaughter, for a motive, but just love's young dream, chapter after
+chapter. From Mr. Crockett they get what they want, 'hot with,' as
+Thackeray admits that he liked it."--Mr. ANDREW LANG in _Longman's
+Magazine._
+
+
+
+
+THE RAIDERS by S. R. CROCKETT
+
+_Eighth Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"A thoroughly enjoyable novel, full of fresh, original, and accurate
+pictures of life long gone by."--_Daily News._
+
+"A strikingly realistic romance."--_Morning Post._
+
+"A stirring story.... Mr. Crockett's style is charming. My Baronite
+never knew how musical and picturesque is Scottish-English till he read
+this book."--_Punch._
+
+"The youngsters have their Stevenson, their Barrie, and now a third
+writer has entered the circle, S. R. Crockett, with a lively and jolly
+book of adventures, which the paterfamilias pretends to buy for his
+eldest son, but reads greedily himself and won't let go till he has
+turned over the last page.... Out of such historical elements and
+numberless local traditions the author has put together an exciting tale
+of adventures on land and sea."--_Frankfurter Zeitung._
+
+
+_SOME SCOTCH NOTICES._
+
+"Galloway folk should be proud to rank 'The Raiders' among the classics
+of the district."--_Scotsman._
+
+"Mr. Crockett's 'The Raiders' is one of the great literary successes of
+the season."--_Dundee Advertiser._
+
+"Mr. Crockett has achieved the distinction of having produced the book
+of the season."--_Dumfries and Galloway Standard._
+
+"The story told in it is, as a story, nearly perfect."--_Aberdeen Daily
+Free Press._
+
+"'The Raiders' is one of the most brilliant efforts of recent
+fiction."--_Kirkcudbrightshire Advertiser._
+
+
+
+
+THE GREY MAN by S. R. CROCKETT
+
+_Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+_Also, an Edition de Luxe, with 26 Drawings by SEYMOUR LUCAS, R.A.,
+limited to 250 copies, signed by Author. Crown 4to., cloth gilt_, 21s.
+_net._
+
+
+"It has nearly all the qualities which go to make a book of the
+first-class. Before you have read twenty pages you know that you are
+reading a classic."--_Literary World._
+
+"All of that vast and increasing host of readers who prefer the novel of
+action to any other form of fiction should, nay, indeed, must, make a
+point of reading this exceedingly fine example of its class."--_Daily
+Chronicle._
+
+"With such passages as these [referring to quotations], glowing with
+tender passion, or murky with horror, even the most insatiate lover of
+romance may feel that Mr. Crockett has given him good measure, well
+pressed down and running over."--_Daily Telegraph._
+
+
+
+
+A DAUGHTER OF THE FEN by J. T. BEALBY
+
+_Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"It will deserve notice at the hands of such as are interested in the
+ways and manner of living of a curious race that has ceased to be."
+_Daily Chronicle._
+
+"For a first book 'A Daughter of the Fen' is full of
+promise."--_Academy._
+
+"This book deserves to be read for its extremely interesting account of
+life in the Fens and for its splendid character study of Mme.
+Dykereave."--_Star._
+
+"Deserves high praise."--_Scotsman._
+
+"It is an able, interesting ... an exciting book, and is well worth
+reading. And when once taken up it will be difficult to lay it
+down."--_Westminster Gazette._
+
+
+
+
+IN A MAN'S MIND by JOHN REAY WATSON
+
+_Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"We regard the book as well worth the effort of reading."--_British
+Review._
+
+"The book is clever, very clever."--_Dundee Advertiser._
+
+"The power and pathos of the book are undeniable."--_Liverpool Post._
+
+"It is a book of some promise."--_Newsagent._
+
+"Mr. Watson has hardly a rival among Australian writers, past or
+present. There is real power in the book--power of insight, power of
+reflection, power of analysis, power of presentation.... 'Tis a very
+well made book--not a set of independent episodes strung on the thread
+of a name or two, but closely interwoven to the climax." _Sydney
+Bulletin._
+
+"There is behind it all a power of drawing human nature that in time
+arrests the attention."--_Athenæum._
+
+
+
+
+NANCY NOON by BENJAMIN SWIFT
+
+_Second Edition. Cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+Some Reviews on the First Edition.
+
+"'Nancy Noon' is perhaps the strongest book of the year, certainly by
+far the strongest book which has been published by any new writer....
+Mr. Swift contrives to keep his book from end to end real, passionate,
+even intense.... If Mr. Meredith had never written, one would have
+predicted, with the utmost confidence, a great future for Mr. Benjamin
+Swift, and even as it is I have hopes."--_Sketch._
+
+"Certainly a promising first effort"--_Whitehall Review._
+
+"If 'Nancy Noon' be Mr. Swift's first book, it is a success of an
+uncommon kind."--_Dundee Advertiser._
+
+"'Nancy Noon' is one of the most remarkable novels of the year, and the
+author, avowedly a beginner, has succeeded in gaining a high position in
+the ranks of contemporary writers.... All his characters are delightful.
+In the heat of sensational incidents or droll scenes we stumble on
+observations that set us reflecting, and but for an occasional roughness
+of style--elliptical, Carlyle mannerisms--the whole is admirably
+written."--_Westminster Gazette._
+
+"Mr. Swift has the creative touch and a spark of genius."--_Manchester
+Guardian._
+
+"Mr. Swift has held us interested from the first to the last page of his
+novel."--_World._
+
+"The writer of 'Nancy Noon' has succeeded in presenting a powerfully
+written and thoroughly interesting story."--_Scotsman._
+
+"We are bound to admit that the story interested us all through, that it
+absorbed us towards the end, and that not until the last page had been
+read did we find it possible to lay the book down."--_Daily Chronicle._
+
+"It is a very strong book, very vividly coloured, very fascinating in
+its style, very compelling in its claim on the attention, and not at all
+likely to be soon forgotten."--_British Weekly._
+
+"A clever book ... The situations and ensuing complications
+are dramatic, and are handled with originality and daring
+throughout."--_Daily News._
+
+"Mr. Benjamin Swift has written a vastly entertaining book."--_Academy._
+
+
+
+
+MR. MAGNUS by F. REGINALD STATHAM
+
+_Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+Some Press Opinions on the First Edition.
+
+"One of the most powerful and vividly written novels of the
+day."--_Nottingham Guardian._
+
+"A grim, terrible, and convincing picture."--_New Age._
+
+"Very impressive."--_Saturday Review._
+
+"Distinctly readable."--_Speaker._
+
+"A remarkable book."--_Standard._
+
+"Full of incident."--_Liverpool Mercury._
+
+"One of the most important and timely books ever written." _Newcastle
+Daily Mercury._
+
+"A vivid and stirring narrative."--_Globe._
+
+"An exceedingly clever and remarkable production."--_World._
+
+"A book to be read."--_Newsagent._
+
+"A terrible picture."--_Sheffield Independent._
+
+"One of the best stories lately published."--_Echo._
+
+"Worth reading."--_Guardian._
+
+"A sprightly book."--_Punch._
+
+"The story is very much brought up to date."--_Times._
+
+"Vivid and convincing."--_Daily Chronicle._
+
+"The story is good and well told."--_Pall Mall Gazette._
+
+"Ought to be immensely popular."--_Reynolds' Weekly Newspaper._
+
+"A most readable story."--_Glasgow Herald._
+
+"A brilliant piece of work."--_Daily Telegraph._
+
+"The story should make its mark."--_Bookseller._
+
+"Admirably written."--_Sheffield Daily Telegraph._
+
+"The more widely it is read the better."--_Manchester Guardian._
+
+"Will find many appreciative readers."--_Aberdeen Free Press._
+
+"Exciting reading."--_Daily Mail._
+
+"Can be heartily recommended."--_Lloyd's Weekly Newspaper._
+
+"A well-written and capable story."--_People._
+
+"Well written."--_Literary World._
+
+
+
+
+MRS. KEITH'S CRIME by MRS. W. K. CLIFFORD
+
+With a Portrait of Mrs. Keith by the Hon. John Collier.
+
+
+_Sixth Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"Is certainly the strongest book that Mrs. W. K. Clifford has given to
+the public. It is probably too the most popular."--_World._
+
+"It is charmingly told."--_Literary World._
+
+"A novel of extraordinary dramatic force, and it will doubtless be
+widely read in its present very cheap and attractive form."--_Star._
+
+"Mrs. Clifford's remarkable tale."--_Athenæum._
+
+"Will prove a healthy tonic to readers who have recently been taking a
+course of shilling shocker mental medicine.... There are many beautiful
+womanly touches throughout the pages of this interesting volume, and it
+can be safely recommended to readers old and young."--_Aberdeen Free
+Press._
+
+
+
+
+MASTERS OF MEDICINE edited by ERNEST HART, D.C.L., Editor of "The
+British Medical Journal"
+
+
+_Large crown 8vo., cloth_, 3s. 6d. _each_.
+
+     Medical discoveries more directly concern the well-being and
+     happiness of the human race than any victories of science. They
+     appeal to one of the primary instincts of human nature, that of
+     self-preservation. The importance of health as the most valuable of
+     our national assets is coming to be more and more recognised, and
+     the place of the doctor in Society and in the State is becoming one
+     of steadily increasing prominence; indeed, Mr. Gladstone said not
+     many years ago that the time would surely come when the medical
+     profession would take precedence of all the others in authority as
+     well as in dignity. The development of medicine from an empiric art
+     to an exact science is one of the most important and also one of
+     the most interesting chapters in the history of civilisation. The
+     histories of medicine which exist are for the most part only fitted
+     for the intellectual digestion of Dryasdust and his congeners. Of
+     the men who made the discoveries which have saved incalculable
+     numbers of human lives, and which have lengthened the span of human
+     existence, there is often no record at all accessible to the
+     general reader. Yet the story of these men's lives, of their
+     struggles and of their triumphs, is not only interesting, but in
+     the highest degree stimulating and educative. Many of them could
+     have said with literal truth what Sir Thomas Browne said
+     figuratively, that their lives were a romance. Hitherto there have
+     been no accounts of the lives of medical discoverers in a form at
+     once convenient and uniform, and sold at a popular price. The
+     "Masters of Medicine" is a series of biographies written by
+     "eminent hands" intended to supply this want. It is intended that
+     the man shall be depicted as he moved and lived and had his being,
+     and that the scope and gist of his work, as well as the steps by
+     which he reached his results, shall be set forth in a clear,
+     readable style.
+
+The following is a condensed list of some of the earlier volumes.--
+
+  AUTHOR.                             TITLE.
+
+  STEPHEN PAGET                      _John Hunter_
+  D'ARCY POWER                       _William Harvey_
+  H. LAING GORDON                    _Sir James Simpson_
+  JOHN G. MCKENDRICK                 _Hermann von Helmholtz_
+  SIR WILLIAM STOKES                 _William Stokes_
+  MICHAEL FOSTER                     _Claude Bernard_
+  TIMOTHY HOLMES                     _Sir Benjamin Brodie_
+  J. F. PAYNE                        _Thomas Sydenham_
+  C. L. TAYLOR                       _Vesalius_
+
+
+
+
+WORKS BY MARTIN A. S. HUME F.R.H.S., Editor of the "Calendar of Spanish
+State Papers of Elizabeth" (Public Record Office).
+
+
+THE COURTSHIPS OF QUEEN ELIZABETH
+With Portraits
+
+_Fourth Edition. Large crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"It is undeniably an important addition to the history of the
+Elizabethan period, and it will rank as the foremost authority on the
+most interesting aspect of the character of the Tudor Queen."--_Pall
+Mall Gazette._
+
+"A clear and very interesting account. An excellent book."--_Times._
+
+"A connected and consistent, though assuredly a most extraordinary,
+story.... A fascinating picture."--_Standard._
+
+"A delightful book."--_Daily Telegraph._
+
+
+THE YEAR AFTER THE ARMADA AND OTHER HISTORICAL STUDIES
+
+_Second Edition. Illustrated. Demy 8vo., cloth gilt_, 12s.
+
+
+"A most valuable and conscientiously written historical
+work."--_Spectator._
+
+"The whole book is extremely interesting, and at once instructive and
+amusing."--_Speaker._
+
+"Deserves a wide circulation, and we trust that a proper reward will
+follow close upon its merits."--_Literary World._
+
+"Major Hume has thrown the most curious and valuable light on the Armada
+period. Full of delightful sketches of men and things."--W. L. COURTNEY
+in _The Daily Telegraph_.
+
+"A work which adds many a fresh page to English, and one may say to
+European history.... From first to last the volume is excellent reading,
+while the entertaining style in which the matter is presented and the
+undeniable authority of the writer ... render the book of special
+interest and permanent value."--_The Morning Post._
+
+"Quite as good as a novel--and a good deal better, too. The book is so
+bright and vivid that readers with the common dislike of history may
+venture on its pages unafraid."--ANDREW LANG in _Cosmopolis_.
+
+
+SIR WALTER RALEGH
+Being Vol. I. of the series entitled "Builders of Greater Britain," each
+vol. with photogravure frontispiece and map.
+
+_Large crown 8vo., cloth_, 5s. _each_.
+
+
+"There is not a dull page in it, and, with his skilful telling of it,
+the story of Raleigh's life and of his times reads like a
+romance."--_Pall Mall Gazette._
+
+
+
+
+SOME WORKS BY REV. E. J. HARDY
+_"The Murray of Matrimony, the Baedeker of Bliss."_
+
+
+HOW TO BE HAPPY THOUGH MARRIED
+
+_Popular Edition, gilt edges, cloth, bevelled boards_, 3s. 6d.
+
+_Presentation Edition, white vellum, cloth, bevelled boards, gilt edges,
+in box_, 7s. 6d.
+
+
+"An entertaining volume ... The new guide to matrimonial
+felicity."--_Standard._
+
+"This charming volume ... Wit and wisdom abound in its pages; as for the
+good stories, they are almost too plentiful."--_Spectator._
+
+
+_Uniform in style and prices with the foregoing._
+
+
+THE FIVE TALENTS OF WOMAN
+A Book for Girls and Young Women
+
+
+THE BUSINESS OF LIFE
+A Book for Everyone
+
+_Square imperial 16mo., cloth_, 3s. 6d.--_Presentation Edition, bevelled
+boards, gilt edges, in box_, 7s. 6d.
+
+
+"Calculated to teach the art of happiness and contentment as well as
+mere exhortation can teach it."--_Times._
+
+"Pleasant as well as profitable reading."--_Literary World._
+
+"A host of social subjects are treated in a way at once wise and witty,
+and in a manner as delightful to read as they are pleasantly
+'improving.'"--_Daily Telegraph._
+
+
+THE SUNNY DAYS OF YOUTH
+A Book for Boys and Young Men
+
+_Square Imperial 16mo., cloth_, 3s. 6d.--_Presentation Edition,
+elegantly bound, bevelled boards, gilt edges_, 7s. 6d.
+
+
+"It is an excellent book for a serious-minded boy."--_Scotsman._
+
+"The pleasantest reading possible ... this useful little
+book."--_Educational Review._
+
+"As well written as it is unquestionably well-intentioned."--_Leeds
+Mercury._
+
+
+FAINT YET PURSUING
+
+_Square Imperial 16mo. Popular Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 3s. 6d.
+
+
+"Will meet with an extensive recognition."--_Morning Post._
+
+"Short and sensible ... they form fresh and breezy reading."--_Glasgow
+Herald._
+
+
+"MANNERS MAKYTH MAN"
+
+_Presentation Edition, imperial 16mo., cloth, bevelled boards, in box_,
+7s. 6d.; _cloth_, 6s.--_Popular Edition, small square 8vo., cloth_, 3s.
+6d.
+
+"Good-natured, wholesome, and straightforward."--_Saturday Review._
+
+"A really delightful volume, well adapted for family
+reading."--_Christian World._
+
+
+THE LOVE AFFAIRS OF SOME FAMOUS MEN
+
+_Imperial 16mo., cloth_, 3s. 6d.
+
+
+
+
+WORKS BY PROF. PASQUALE VILLARI
+
+
+THE LIFE AND TIMES OF GIROLAMO SAVONAROLA
+Translated by LINDA VILLARI
+
+_New and Cheaper Edition in one volume. Fully Illustrated. Cloth, large
+crown_, 7s. 6d.
+
+
+"No more interesting book has been issued during the present
+season."--_Pall Mall Gazette._
+
+"The most interesting religious biography that we know of in modern
+times."--_Spectator._
+
+"A book which is not likely to be forgotten."--_Athenæum._
+
+"By far the best book on Savonarola available for English
+readers."--_Standard._
+
+"Is perhaps _the_ book of the publishing season."--_Star._
+
+"Sincere, complete, and, upon the whole, well-balanced and
+candid."--_Yorkshire Post._
+
+"A work of very great value."--_Scotsman._
+
+"No more graphic view of the ecclesiastical and social life of ancient
+Italy has been opened up for us than this of Linda Villari."--_Morning
+Leader._
+
+"As complete and trustworthy as care, judgment, and the fullest
+investigation can make it."--_Dundee Advertiser._
+
+"A credit to the publisher."--_Independent._
+
+
+THE LIFE AND TIMES OF NICCOLÒ MACHIAVELLI
+
+_New and Cheaper Edition. Fully Illustrated. Large crown 8vo., cloth_,
+7s. 6d.
+
+
+"Indispensable to the serious student of Machiavelli, his teaching and
+his times."--_Times._
+
+"The fullest and most authoritative history of Machiavelli and his times
+ever given to the British public."--_Glasgow Herald._
+
+"May be regarded as an authority on the times of which it treats.... The
+book is enriched with rare and interesting illustrations, and with some
+valuable historical documents."--_Daily Telegraph._
+
+
+
+
+BY FRANK HORRIDGE
+LIVES OF GREAT ITALIANS
+
+_Illustrated. Large crown 8vo., cloth_, 7s. 6d.
+
+
+Opinions of the Press.
+
+"A poetical, romantic, and charmingly written book, which will be
+popular with all who love their Italy."--DOUGLAS SLADEN in _Literary
+World_.
+
+"Able, eloquent, and interesting."--_Queen._
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+* Inconsistency in hyphenation is as in the original.
+
+* Three short footnotes have been moved into the main text, rendered as
+[Footnote: ...]
+
+* The layout of the advertising material has been standardised somewhat,
+and dashes inserted consistently between reviews and their source. (In
+most but not all cases, a dash was present if the source was on the same
+line, but not if on a different line. This distinction is impossible to
+preserve in an e-text.)
+
+* Two misprinted accents on the French have been moved onto the correct
+letter.
+
+* Page 161: the first word on the page has been changed from "or" to
+"for" (there is a gap, and this best fits the context).
+
+* Page 195: the name "Bevensey" has been changed to "Pevensey" to match
+other occurrences in the book.
+
+* Page 201, first full paragraph: The comma after "masters" is possibly
+incorrect (a period or semi-colon would be more grammatically correct)
+but the original has been retained.
+
+* Page 354: in the paragraph beginning "In that event", a colon after
+said has been changed to a semi-colon, in accordance with normal
+practice and all other occurrences in the book.
+
+* Page 376: a reference to "De Hausée" has been changed to "de Hausée"
+to match every other occurrence.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Robert Orange, by John Oliver Hobbes
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBERT ORANGE ***
+
+***** This file should be named 27997-8.txt or 27997-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/9/9/27997/
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+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
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+will be renamed.
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Robert Orange, by John Oliver Hobbes
+
+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: Robert Orange
+       Being a Continuation of the History of Robert Orange
+
+Author: John Oliver Hobbes
+
+Release Date: February 4, 2009 [EBook #27997]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBERT ORANGE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Colin Bell and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<h1>ROBERT ORANGE</h1>
+
+<div class="center">
+<p>BEING A CONTINUATION OF THE<br/> HISTORY OF ROBERT ORANGE, M.P.</p>
+<p style="margin-top: 1em;">AND A SEQUEL TO THE<br/> SCHOOL FOR SAINTS</p>
+
+<p style="margin-top: 2em;">By <br/>
+<span style="font-size: x-large;">
+John Oliver Hobbes</span></p>
+
+<p style="margin-top: 2em;">LONDON: T. FISHER UNWIN</p>
+
+<p>PATERNOSTER SQUARE. MDCCCC</p>
+
+<p style="margin-top: 1em;">(<i>All rights reserved</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p><h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+
+<p>One afternoon during the first weeks of October,
+1869, while wind, dust, and rain were struggling each
+for supremacy in the streets, a small yellow brougham,
+swung in the old-fashioned style on cumbersome
+springs and attached to a pair of fine greys, was
+standing before the Earl of Garrow's town residence
+in St. James's Square. The hall clock within that
+mansion chimed four, the great doors were thrown
+open by two footmen, and a young lady wearing a
+mauve silk skirt deeply flounced, a black cloth jacket
+embroidered in gold, and a mauve hat trimmed with
+plumes&mdash;appeared upon the threshold. She paused for
+a moment to admire the shrubs arranged in boxes on
+each window-sill, the crimson vines that brightened
+the grey walls; to criticise the fresh brown rosette
+under the near horse's ear; to bestow a swift glance
+upon the harness, the coachman's livery, and the
+groom's boots. Then she stepped into the carriage
+and gave her order&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To the Carlton Club.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The groom climbed on to his seat, and the horses,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>after a brilliant display of their well-disciplined mettle,
+suffered themselves to be driven, at an easy pace,
+toward Pall Mall.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Sara-Louise-Tatiana-Valérie De Treverell,
+only child of the ninth Earl of Garrow, had been,
+since her mother's death, the mistress of his house and
+his chief companion. Essentially a woman of emotions,
+she was, nevertheless, in appearance somewhat dreamy,
+romantic, even spiritual. The eyes were blue, bright
+as a cut sapphire, and shone, as it were, through tears.
+Her mouth, uneven in its line, had a scarlet eloquence
+more pleasing than sculpturesque severity. At the
+moment, she wore no gloves, and her tapering fingers
+shared their characteristic with her nose, which also
+tapered, with exquisite lightness of mould, into a
+point. For colour, she had a gypsy's red and brown.
+The string of gold beads which she fastened habitually
+round her throat showed well against the warm tints
+in her cheek; her long pearl earrings caught in
+certain lights the dark shadow of her hair&mdash;hair black,
+abundant, and elaborately dressed in the fashion of that
+time. Passionate yet calculating, imperious yet susceptible
+of control, generous yet given to suspicion, an
+egoist yet capable of self-abandoning enthusiasm&mdash;she
+represented a type of feminine character often recognised
+but rarely understood.</p>
+
+<p>On this particular afternoon in October she had
+some pressing matters on her mind. She was considering,
+among other things, an offer of marriage
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>which she had received by post two days before from
+a nobleman of great fortune, the Duke of Marshire.
+But Sara was ambitious&mdash;not mercenary. She wanted
+power. Power, unhappily, was the last thing one
+could associate with the estimable personality of the
+suitor under deliberation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I must tell papa,&#8221; she said to herself, &#8220;that it
+would never do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Here she fell into a reverie; but as her expression
+changed from one of annoyance to something of wistfulness
+and sentimentality, the question of marriage
+with the Duke of Marshire had clearly been dismissed
+for that moment from her heart. At intervals a shy
+smile gave an almost childish tenderness to her face.
+Then, on a sudden, her eyelashes would droop, she
+would start with a sigh, and, apparently caught by
+some unwelcome remembrance, sink into a humour as
+melancholy as it was mysterious. Quiet she sat,
+absorbed in her own emotions, heedless alike of the
+streets through which she was passing and the many
+acquaintances who bowed as she drove by. It was
+her daily custom, when in town, to call at the Carlton
+Club for her father and take him for a short drive
+round the Park before his tea. To-day he was already
+waiting on the club steps as the brougham halted
+before the entrance. He smiled, joined Lady Sara at
+once, and seating himself by her side in his usual
+corner, maintained his usual imperturbable reserve.
+As a rule, during these excursions he would either
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>doze, or jot down ideas in his note-book, or hum one
+of the few songs he cared to hear: &#8220;Go tell Augusta,
+gentle swain,&#8221; &#8220;Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries,&#8221;
+and &#8220;She wore a wreath of roses.&#8221; This time, however,
+he did neither of these things, but watched the
+reflection of his daughter's face in the carriage window
+before him. He had white hair, a dyed moustache
+and a small imperial&mdash;also dyed the deepest black&mdash;just
+under the lower lip. In appearance he was, spite
+of the false touches, good-looking, sensitive, and perhaps
+too mild. The cleft in his rounded chin was the
+sole mark of decision in a countenance whose features
+were curved&mdash;wherever a curve was possible&mdash;to a
+degree approaching caricature. Temples, eyebrows,
+nostrils, and moustache, all described a series of semi-circles
+which, accentuated by a livid complexion and
+curling hair, presented an effect somewhat commonplace
+and a little tiresome. He had spent his existence
+among beings to whom nothing seemed natural which
+did not depart most earnestly from all that nature is
+and teaches: he had always endeavoured to maintain
+the ideal of a Christian gentleman where, as a matter
+of fact, Christianity was understood rather as a good
+manner than a faith, and ideals were prejudices of race
+rather than aspirations of the soul. Well-born, well-bred,
+and moderately learned, he was not, and could
+never be, more than dull or less than dignified. The
+second son of his father, he had spent the customary
+years of idleness at Eton and Oxford, he had journeyed
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>through France, Italy, and Spain, contested unsuccessfully
+a seat in Mertford, and thought of reading for the
+Bar. But at four-and-thirty he became, through the
+influence of his mother's family, groom-in-waiting
+to the Queen&mdash;a post which he held till his elder
+brother's death, which occurred six months later. At
+this point his Court career ceased. A weak heart and
+a constitutional dislike of responsibility assisted him in
+his firm decision to lead the life of a country nobleman.
+He retired to his estate, and remained there in
+solitude, troubling no one except his agent, till a
+Russian lady, whom he had first met and loved during
+his early travels on the Continent, happened to come
+visiting in the neighbourhood. As the daughter of a
+Russian Prince and Ambassador, she had considered
+her rank superior to Lord Garrow's, and therefore felt
+justified, as she informed her relations after he had
+succeeded to the earldom, in making the first advance
+toward their common happiness. The marriage was
+soon arranged; the alliance proved successful if not
+always serene; one child&mdash;Sara-Louise-Tatiana-Valérie&mdash;was
+born, an event which was followed, nine
+days later, by the death of the Countess.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Garrow, a man of refined ideas rather than
+profound feelings, displayed in mourning his wife's
+loss the same gentle, dispassionate, and courteous
+persistency with which he had remained constant
+to his first impression of her charms. She had been
+a beautiful, high-hearted girl; she became a fascinating
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>but wayward woman; she died a creature of such
+mingled ferocity and sentiment that, had she not
+perished when she did, she must have existed in
+misery under the storms of her own temperament.
+As Garrow watched his daughter's face, he may have
+been touched to a deeper chord than usual at the
+sight of her strange and growing resemblance to his
+dead Tatiana. Did she too possess&mdash;as her mother
+had possessed&mdash;the sweet but calamitous gift of loving?
+He himself had not been the object of his wife's
+supreme devotion. Before the child's birth she had
+given him an emerald ring which, she declared, was
+all that she valued on earth. It was no gift of his;
+it had belonged to a young attaché to her father's
+embassy. Affection had taught Lord Garrow something;
+he asked no questions; the jewel was placed,
+by his orders, on her dead hand; it was buried with
+her, and with that burial he included any jealousy
+of her early romance. He had been sincerely, wholly
+attached to her; he had been proud of her graces and
+accomplishments; he knew her virtue and honoured
+her pure mind; she was the one woman he had ever
+wished to marry. He did not regret, nay, it was
+impossible to regret, their marriage. But she had
+been ever an alien and a stranger. Each had too
+often considered the other's heart with surprise.
+True love must rest on a perfect understanding;
+at the first lifting of the eyes in wonder there is a
+jar which by and by must make the whole emotion
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>restless. An unconquerable curiosity lay at the very
+root of their lives. She thought him English and
+self-sufficient; he thought her foreign and a little
+superstitious. This ineffable criticism was constant,
+fretful, and ever nearing the climax of uttered reproach.
+Sara had inherited all the amazement, but she owned,
+as well, its comprehension. She adored passionately
+the mother she had never seen; she loved her father,
+whom she knew by heart. After exchanging an
+affectionate glance with his lordship, she began to
+draw on her gloves. Whilst buttoning one she said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you seen him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; he replied; &#8220;but, in any case, I think he
+would have avoided me to-day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;From motives of delicacy. Henry Marshire is a
+man of the nicest feeling. He is never guilty of the
+least mistake.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sara smiled, and so disguised a blush.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I did not mean Marshire,&#8221; she said. &#8220;I was
+thinking then of Robert Orange.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Robert Orange,&#8221; exclaimed Lord Garrow in
+astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, dear papa. Is he not sometimes at the
+Carlton with Lord Wight? He seems to me a
+coming man; and so good-looking. We must really
+ask him to dinner.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Some minutes elapsed before the Earl could utter
+any comment on a suggestion so surprising, and at
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>that particular moment so inconsequent. Was his
+daughter not weighing&mdash;with prayer, he hoped, and
+certainly with all her senses&mdash;the prospect of an
+alliance with the Duke of Marshire? How, then,
+could she pause in a meditation of such vital interest
+to make capricious remarks about a mere acquaintance?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Does Marshire know him?&#8221; he asked at last.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I hope so. He is a remarkable person. But the
+party is blind.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My dear, the English are an aristocratic people.
+They do not forgive mysterious blood and ungentle
+origins. While we have our Howards, our Talbots,
+and our Poulets&mdash;to say nothing of the De Courcys
+and Cliftons&mdash;it would surely seem excessively absurd
+to endure the intrusion of French <i>émigrés</i> into our
+midst.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How I hate the great world!&#8221; exclaimed Sara,
+with vehemence; &#8220;how I dislike the class which
+ambition, wealth, and pride separate from the rest of
+humanity! My only happiness now is found in
+solitude.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your mother, dear Sara, had&mdash;or fancied so&mdash;this
+same desire to shun companionship and be alone.
+Her delicate health after our marriage made her fear
+society.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There are days when it seems an arena of wild
+beasts!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nevertheless, my darling, at your age you must
+learn to live among your fellow creatures.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How can I live where I should be afraid to die?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ought you to give way to these moods? Is it
+not mistaking the imagination for the soul? Young
+people do this, and you are very young&mdash;but two-and-twenty.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am double-hearted,&#8221; said Sara; &#8220;and when one
+is double-hearted the tongue must utter contradictions.
+I like my advantages while I despise them. I
+wish to be thought exclusive, yet I condemn the
+pettiness of my ambition. And so on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I fear,&#8221; said Lord Garrow gravely, &#8220;that your
+mind is disturbed by a question which you must soon&mdash;very
+soon, my dearest child&mdash;answer.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Papa, I cannot.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Surely you will gratify me so far as to take time
+before you object to what might possibly be most
+desirable.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It may be desirable enough, but is it right?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Right,&#8221; repeated her father, with exasperation.
+&#8220;How could it be otherwise than right to marry a
+man of Marshire's position, means, stamp, and general
+fitness? You would be in possession of a station
+where your interest would be as independent as your
+spirit. Nothing could have been more brilliant, or
+flattering, or more cordial than his offer. I argue
+against my natural selfishness for your welfare. I
+don't wish to part with you, but I must consider your
+future.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He spoke with energy, and Sara knew, from the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>length and substance of the speech, that the subject
+had been for some time very near his heart. She
+resolved, on the instant, not to fail him; but as she
+foresaw his crowning satisfaction, she permitted
+herself the luxury of prolonging his suspense.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do not love him,&#8221; said she.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In marriage one does not require an unconquerable
+love but an invincible sympathy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An invincible sympathy!&#8221; she exclaimed. &#8220;I
+have had that for certain friends&mdash;for one or two, at
+any rate. For Robert Orange, as an example.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That man again? Why do you dwell upon him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He is interesting, he has force, and, as for origin,
+do people ever repeat pleasant facts about a neighbour's
+pedigree? I believe that his family is every
+bit as good as ours. His second name is de Hausée.
+No one can pretend that we are even so good as
+a genuine de Hausée. We may make ourselves
+ridiculous!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me entreat you to guard against these
+inequalities in your character. To-day I could even
+accuse you of levity. Dearest Sara, Marshire is hardly
+the man to be kept waiting for his reply.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am not well,&#8221; said Sara, almost in tears.
+&#8220;There are hours when I would not give my especial
+blessings for any other earthly happiness, and then, a
+moment after, the things which pleased me most
+become vexations, all but intolerable!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How little importance, then, should we attach to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>our caprices, when we know, by experience, how
+short is the pleasure and displeasure they can give,&#8221;
+was the careful reply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Caprices!&#8221; said Sara, &#8220;yes, you are right. My
+mind gets weary, disgusted, and dismayed. But the
+soul is never bored&mdash;never tired. Poor prisoner! It
+has so few opportunities.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She sighed deeply, and her father saw, with distress,
+the approach of a sentimental mood which he deplored
+as un-English, and feared as unmanageable.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is this languor, this inability to rouse myself,
+to feel the least interest in things or people?&#8221; she
+continued. &#8220;I am not ill, and yet I have scarcely the
+strength to regret my lassitude.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What does it mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He put his hand upon her jacket sleeve.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is this warm enough?&#8221; he said. &#8220;The autumn is
+treacherous. You are careful, I hope.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She glanced out of the window and up at the clouds
+which, grey, heavy, and impenetrable, moved, darkening
+all things as they went across the sky.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wish it would rain! I like to be out when it
+rains!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A strange fancy,&#8221; said her father, &#8220;but tastes,
+even odd ones, give a charm to life, whereas passions&mdash;&#8220;
+he put some stress upon the word and repeated it,
+&#8220;passions destroy it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Marshire, at any rate, does not seem to possess
+either!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, a man must begin at some point, and, at
+some point, he must change. He admires and respects
+you, my darling, so we may hardly quarrel with his
+judgment.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sara shrugged her shoulders and turned her glance
+away from the few carriages filled with invalids or
+elderly women which were still lingering in the
+Row.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Some people,&#8221; said she, &#8220;are driven by their
+passions, others, the smaller number, by their virtues.
+Marshire has asked me to marry him because it is his
+duty to choose a wife from his own circle. I have no
+illusions in the matter. Nor, I fancy, has he. We
+have talked, of course, of love and Platonism till both
+love and Platonism became a weariness!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very far indeed am I from thinking you just. I
+have had an extremely kind note from the Duchess.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An old tyrant! She wants a daughter-in-law
+who will play piquet with her in the evenings, and
+feed her peacocks in the morning. She is tired of
+poor Miss Wilmington. An old tyrant!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She hopes to hear soon when the marriage is to
+take place. I wish I could tell her the day. I do so
+long to have it fixed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dear papa,&#8221; she said, with a charming smile,
+&#8220;you are anxious, I see, to be rid of me. I will
+write to him to-night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And to what effect?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The wisest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That means the happiest, too?&#8221; he asked with
+anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For you and him, I hope. As for me&mdash;am I a
+woman who could, by any chance, be both happy
+and wise at the same moment?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her existence was very solitary. The flippancy of
+the lives around her, the inanity of her relatives' pursuits,
+their heedlessness of those inner qualities which
+make the real&mdash;indeed, the only considerable difference
+between man and man, could but fret, and mortify,
+and abash a heart which, in the absence of any religious
+faith, had, at any rate, the need of it. Her father,
+who entertained clear views of &#8220;the right thing&#8221; and
+&#8220;the wrong thing&#8221; in social ethics, was still too rigid
+a formalist in the exposition of his theories to reach an
+intelligence with whom the desire of virtues would
+have to come as a passion&mdash;inspiring and inspired or
+else be utterly repudiated. Utilitarianism, and the
+greatest happiness of the greatest number, comfortable
+domestic axioms, little schemes for the elevation of the
+masses by the classes, had, on their logical basis, no
+attraction for this sceptical, wayward girl. To be
+merely useful was, in her eyes, to make oneself meddlesome
+and absurd. The object of existence was to be
+heroic or nothing. She could imagine herself a Poor
+Clare: she could not imagine herself as a great young
+lady dividing her hours judiciously between district
+visiting and the ball-room, between the conquest of
+eligible bachelors and the salvation of vulgar souls.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>Marshire, she knew, had sisters and cousins who did
+these things and were considered patterns. No wonder
+then that she turned pale and became fretful at the
+prospect of her views clashing inevitably with his.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot be wise and happy at the same moment,&#8221;
+she repeated.</p>
+
+<p>At that instant the carriage, which was then rolling
+toward Hyde Park Corner, came to an abrupt standstill,
+and, on looking out, Lord Garrow observed that
+the coachman had halted in obedience to a signal from
+a gentleman who was galloping, at a hard pace, after
+their brougham.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It must be Reckage,&#8221; said the Earl; &#8220;I never knew
+a man so fond of riding who rode so ill.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What, I wonder, does he want now?&#8221; said Sara,
+flushing a little. &#8220;I didn't know that he was in town.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>By that time the pursuer, a handsome man with an
+auburn beard and very fine blue eyes, had reached
+them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This,&#8221; he shouted, &#8220;is a rushing beast of a horse;&#8221;
+but, before he could explain his errand, the hunter,
+who was nearly quite thoroughbred and a magnificent
+animal, dashed on, evidently determined to gain, without
+delay, some favourite destination.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Extraordinary!&#8221; said Lord Garrow. &#8220;Extraordinary!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But so like him,&#8221; observed his daughter.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And he has made us late for tea. What a stupid
+fellow!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was exactly five minutes past five when they
+reached St. James's Square. The sun, a globe, set in
+thin lines of yellow light, shone out above the trees,
+which were dull but not yet leafless. Grey and sulphurous
+and gold-edged clouds floated in masses on the
+blue sky. It had been a day of changes&mdash;yet it
+seemed to Sara, whose own moods had been as various,
+the ordinary passing away of time.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Upon my word,&#8221; said his lordship, &#8220;it is too bad!
+They may say what they please about Reckage, but I
+call him a spooney. That horse was a noble horse&mdash;a
+most superior horse. He couldn't manage him. I
+wish he would sell him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He would never do anything so much to his own
+advantage,&#8221; was the dry response. &#8220;Poor Reckage is a
+brilliant fool&mdash;he's selfish, and therefore he miscalculates.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sara was now talking mechanically&mdash;as she often did
+when she was with those whom she loved or liked, but
+from whom she was separated in every thought,
+interest, and emotion. The lassitude of which she had
+complained at the beginning of their drive returned
+upon her. Sighing heavily, she entered the house and
+mounted the long staircase to the drawing-room, where
+the tea-table was already spread, the flame quivering
+under the kettle, the deep pink china laid out on a
+silver tray. But the homeliness of the scene and its
+familiarity had no power to soothe that aching, distracted
+heart. Had she been a man, she thought, she
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>might have sought her refuge in ceaseless work, in
+great ambitions, in achievements. This eternal tea-pouring
+and word-mincing, this business of forced
+laughter and garlanded conversation was more than she
+could endure. A low cry of impatience, too long and
+also too loosely imprisoned, escaped from her lips.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is the matter?&#8221; asked Lord Garrow, who
+was following close upon her heels.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Life,&#8221; she said, &#8220;life! That is all that ever does
+matter.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ain't you happy?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, but I have it in me to be happy&mdash;an appalling
+capability. Let us say no more about it. I must join
+myself to eternity, and so find rest.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; said her father, who now felt that he had a
+right to complain, &#8220;my poor uncle used to say, if
+women deserved happiness they would bear it better.
+Few of them bear it well&mdash;and this is a fact I have
+often brought before me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+
+<p>When Sara had prepared Lord Garrow's tea and cut
+the leaves of the <i>Revue des Deux Mondes</i>, which he
+invariably read until he dressed for dinner, she stole
+away to the further room, where she could play the
+piano, write letters, muse over novels, or indulge in
+reverie without fear of interruption. But as she
+entered it that afternoon its air of peace seemed the
+bleakness of desolation. A terrible and afflicting grief
+swept, like an icy breeze, through her heart, and,
+whether from actual physical pain or the excitement of
+the last few hours, tears started to her eyes, her cheeks
+flushed, and she fell to passionate weeping. The smiling
+Nymphs painted on the ceiling above her head and
+the rose leaves they were for ever scattering to the
+dancing Hours (a charming group, and considered very
+cheerful), could not relieve her woe. She cried long
+and bitterly, and was on the verge of hysterics when
+the door opened and her most intimate woman friend,
+the Viscountess Fitz Rewes, was announced. This
+bewitching creature&mdash;who was a widow, with two long
+flaxen curls, a sweet figure, and the smile of an angel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>&mdash;embraced
+her dear, dear Sara with genuine affection,
+and pretended not to see her swollen eyelids. Sara
+possessed for Pensée Fitz Rewes the fascination of a
+desperate nature for a meek one. The audacity,
+brilliancy, and recklessness of the younger woman
+at once stimulated and established the other's gentle
+piety.</p>
+
+<p>They talked for fifteen minutes about the autumn
+visits they had paid, the visits they would have to pay,
+and the visits which nothing in the world would induce
+them to pay.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have been at home, at Catesby, most of the
+time,&#8221; said Pensée; &#8220;a very quiet, happyish time, on
+the whole. I had a few people down, but I saw a
+great deal of a particularly nice person. She is a
+foreigner&mdash;an archduchess really. Her father made a
+morganatic marriage. I am so glad they don't have
+morganatic marriages in England. I don't like to be
+uncharitable, but they seem, in a way, so improper.
+Madame de Parflete is all one could wish. Her husband
+was a dreadful man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What did he do?&#8221; said Sara, who was a little
+absent.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, all kinds of things. He committed suicide in
+the end. And now&mdash;she is going to marry a friend of
+mine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who is he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I never told you about him before,&#8221; said Pensée,
+&#8220;but I am so miserable to-day that you may as well
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>know. He was a sort of brother, yet much more.
+One didn't meet him often in our set, because he
+didn't and doesn't care about it. Life, however, threw
+us together.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She covered her wan face with her hands.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How am I to give him up?&#8221; she asked. &#8220;How
+shall I bear it? I get so unhappy. I asked my little
+boy the other day what he did when I went away
+from home. He said&mdash;&#8216;I gather chestnuts and feel
+lonely.&#8217; And I asked my little girl what she did, and
+she said&mdash;&#8216;I cry till you come back again.&#8217; There's
+the difference between men and women. I am like
+my poor Lilian. You, Sara, if you could be wretched,
+would be more like the boy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you think so?&#8221; said Sara.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That wonderful passage in the New Testament&mdash;I
+often remember it! After all the agony and
+separation were over, Simon Peter said to the disciples,
+<i>I go a fishing</i>. He went back to the work he was
+doing when our Lord first called him. What
+courage!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go on,&#8221; said Sara, &#8220;go on!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course, my heart has been taking an undue
+complacency in the creature, and this seldom fails to
+injure. I have a wish to be free from distress, and
+enjoy life. As if we were born to be happy! No,
+this world is a school to discipline souls and fit them
+for the other. I must forget my friend.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nonsense!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It will be very hard. I took such an interest in
+his career. If I didn't mention him to you, or to other
+people, I mentioned him often to God. And now&mdash;it
+is somewhat awkward.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You little goose,&#8221; said Sara, &#8220;you have a heart of
+crystal. Nothing could be awkward for you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My heart,&#8221; said Pensée, with a touch of resentment,
+&#8220;is just as dangerous and wicked as any other
+heart! You misunderstand me wilfully. I like prayer
+at all times, because it is a help and because it lifts one
+out of the world. Oh, when shall every thought be
+brought into captivity?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Listen!&#8221; said Sara, &#8220;listen! If there is an
+attractiveness in human beings so lovely that it could
+call your Almighty God Himself from heaven to
+dwell among them and to die most cruelly for their
+sakes, is it to be expected that they will not&mdash;and who
+will dare say that they should not?&mdash;as mortals themselves,
+discover qualities in each other which draw out
+the deepest affection? I have no patience with your
+religion&mdash;none.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are most unkind, and I won't tell you any
+more,&#8221; replied Pensée, who looked, however, not ungrateful
+for Sara's view of the situation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me tell you something about me,&#8221; said her
+friend fiercely. &#8220;I never say my prayers, because I
+cannot say them, but I love somebody, too. Whenever
+I hear his name I could faint. When I see him
+I could sink into the ground. At the sight of his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>handwriting I grow cold from head to foot, I tremble,
+my heart aches so that it seems breaking in two. I
+long to be with him, yet when I am with him I have
+nothing to say. I have to escape and be miserable all
+alone. He is my thought all day: the last before I
+sleep, the first when I awake. I could cry and cry
+and cry. I try to read, and I remember not a word.
+I like playing best, for then I can almost imagine
+that he is listening. But when I stop playing and
+look round, I find myself in an empty room. It is
+awful. I call his name; no one answers. I whisper
+it; still no answer. I throw myself on the ground,
+and I say, &#8216;Think of me! think of me! you shall,
+you must, you do think of me!&#8217; It is great
+torture and a great despair. Perhaps it is a madness
+too. But it is my way of loving. I want to live
+while I live. If I knew for certain that he loved me&mdash;me
+only&mdash;the joy, I think, would kill me. Love!
+Do you know, poor little angel, what it means?
+Sometimes it is a curse.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pensée, before this torrent, was shaking like some
+small flower in a violent gale.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You say things, Sara, that no one says&mdash;things
+that one ought not to say. You must be quieter.
+You won't be happy when you are married if you
+begin with so much feeling!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am not going to marry that one,&#8221; said Sara
+bitterly. &#8220;I am going to marry Marshire.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Fitz Rewes had too delicate a face to contain
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>any expression of the alarm and horror she felt at this
+statement. She frowned, bit her lips, and sank back
+in her chair. What stroke of fate, she wondered, had
+overtaken the poor girl? Was she sane? Was she
+herself? Pensée found some relief in the thought
+that Sara was not herself&mdash;a state into which most
+people are presumed to fall whenever, from stress or
+emotion, they become either strictly candid or perfectly
+natural.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is a fancy. Fancies are in my blood,&#8221; said
+Sara; &#8220;you need not be anxious.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But&mdash;but what feeling have you for Marshire?&#8221;
+murmured Pensée.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have a faint inclination not to dislike him
+utterly. And I will be a good wife to him. If I
+say so, I shall keep my word. You may be sure of
+that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I could never doubt your honour, Sara. Is the
+other man quite, quite out of the question?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Quite.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But perhaps he does love you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh no, he doesn't. He may think me picturesque
+and rather entertaining. It never went deeper than
+that. I saw at once that his mind was fixed on some
+other woman.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose one can always tell when a man's
+affections are really engaged,&#8221; said Pensée, with a
+sigh.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, beyond any doubt. You feel that they are
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>comparing you at every point, in a silent, cold-blooded
+way, to the bright particular star. I envy you,
+Pensée; you, at least, were desperately loved by
+Lionel. But I&mdash;never, never was loved&mdash;except
+once.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who was he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He was a Russian, very good-looking, and a
+genius. But oh, I wasn't old enough to understand
+him. When he died, I cried for half a day and seven
+nights. And after that, not a tear. You see, I didn't
+understand myself either.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do I know this other one ... the one, now?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I won't tell you his name. Perhaps, another
+time, when we are all very old ... and he is dead
+... or I am dying....&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, don't say that!&#8221; exclaimed Pensée, &#8220;don't
+say that! You are making a lot of misery for yourself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not at all. I am making the most of my one
+saving grace. There is nothing very nice about me&mdash;except
+that. And he is a man. The only real one
+among all our friends&mdash;the only one for whom I have
+the least respect. If any woman had his love&mdash;how
+sure, how happy she could be! I could work, and
+starve, and lay down my life for a man like that. If
+he had loved me, I think I could have been almost
+a good woman, a downright good one, a Saint
+Elizabeth of Hungary. But you see that wasn't to
+be. And so I am just this&mdash;&mdash;&#8220; She looked in the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>glass and pointed a white finger, loaded with rings of
+black pearls, at her reflection. &#8220;I am just this&mdash;a
+vain, idle fool like all the rest&mdash;except you, poor
+darling.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why don't you keep up your music?&mdash;your
+wonderful playing? Every one says it is so wonderful.
+That's a great outlet for emotion. And your
+languages&mdash;why not work an hour a day each at
+Italian, Spanish, German, and French? That would
+kill four hours of the day straight off!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bah!&#8221; said Sara, &#8220;I cannot play&mdash;unless there is
+some one to play for. As for languages&mdash;I cannot
+talk alone. And as for reading&mdash;I cannot find all my
+world between the covers of a book.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But live for others, dear Sara.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I want to live for myself. I have one inseparable
+companion&mdash;that is myself. I want to suffer my own
+sufferings, and enjoy my own enjoyments. This
+living for others is absurd. I hate second-hand
+emotions; they are stale and dull. But, Pensée,
+you haven't told me the name of your friend.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thought I had,&#8221; said Pensée, simply; &#8220;you will
+see it in the marriage notice the day after to-morrow.
+It is Robert Orange.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sara stared for a moment. Then the string of gold
+beads which she wore round her throat suddenly
+broke, and the shining ornaments fell all about her
+to the floor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dear me!&#8221; said Sara, kneeling down with a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>ghastly laugh. Pensée knelt too, and they gathered
+the scattered necklace between them. &#8220;Dear me! I
+was never more surprised&mdash;never; and yet I cannot
+think why I am surprised. He is very handsome.
+Any woman would like him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wonder,&#8221; said Pensée, full of thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>Sara proceeded to count her beads, lest one should
+be missing. But they were all there, and she tied
+them up in her handkerchief.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pensée,&#8221; she said, presently. &#8220;I will tell his
+name after all, because you have been so frank with
+me. The one I ... love is Beauclerk Reckage.&#8221;
+As she uttered this lie, she cast down her eyes and
+blushed to the very heart.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Beauclerk!&#8221; exclaimed Pensée, in amazement.
+&#8220;Then there <i>is</i> some hope after all! There is,
+there must be! Beauclerk! He is engaged to
+Agnes Carillon, of course. But all the same....&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The conversation flagged. Lord Garrow, who had
+heard a distant murmuring but not their words, now,
+as their animation failed, came in.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My little girl,&#8221; said he, &#8220;has been moping. I am
+very glad that you called ... very glad indeed. And
+Sara, my darling....&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, papa.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you asked Pensée the name of that
+extremely pretty song she sang for us when we all
+dined together at Lord Wight's? You remember the
+evening?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But Sara, with a wail, fled away. Pensée caught a
+glimpse of her white, agonised countenance as she
+rushed past them, moaning, to her own room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is dreadful,&#8221; said Lord Garrow, horribly
+annoyed&mdash;&#8220;dreadful!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is indeed,&#8221; replied Lady Fitz Rewes gravely.
+&#8220;I suppose....&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She wanted to say that she hoped the Marshire-de
+Treverell alliance was still undecided. But something
+in his lordship's air&mdash;a hardness she had never thought
+to see in his regard&mdash;forbade any reference to the
+subject. He conducted her to her carriage, wished
+her &#8220;Goodbye&#8221; in his Court manner, and led her to
+understand, by an unmistakable glance, that a certain
+marriage which had been arranged would, inasmuch
+as it was entirely agreeable to the will of Providence,
+take place.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p><h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+
+<p>Lord Reckage, in the meantime, had not been able
+to draw rein until he reached Grafton Street, where
+the hunter, of its own will, stopped short at a door,
+half glass and half mahogany, before which a groom
+stood watching, evidently with some suspense, for
+their approach. At the first sight of the animal and
+its rider, he hastened forward, and, seizing the bridle,
+assisted his master to dismount. Once on the ground,
+the young man satisfied his spleen by hitting the horse
+several vicious cuts with his whip. Then he informed
+the servant that it was his intention to walk home,
+and, with an ominous scowl, watched the &#8220;rushing
+beast&#8221; led from his sight. No one, except himself,
+was permitted to occupy that saddle.</p>
+
+<p>The house which he now entered had been the
+town mansion for three generations of the Hampshires,
+but, despised by its then owner, whose young duchess
+wanted an Italian villa on Piccadilly, or a French
+château in Park Lane, the lease had been sold to a
+syndicate of rising politicians who formed a small
+organisation known, in those days, as the Mirafloreans.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;The little order,&#8221; we read in the Hon. Hercy
+Berenville's Memoirs, a malicious work printed for
+private circulation only&mdash;&#8220;the little order first came
+into notice under the name of the &#8216;Bond of Association,&#8217;
+a High Church society founded by my brother,
+Lord Reckage. He formed his executive committee,
+however, on timorous and unexpected lines. He had
+tried to please the spiteful rather than the loyal. The
+loyal, he urged, were always forbearing, but the spiteful
+needed every attention. He disappointed alike the
+warmest and the most selfish among his supporters.
+True to his policy, he made desperate attempts to win
+over some vindictive men from among the Radicals,
+and, finally, in a fit of nervousness, declared, after five
+months of fruitful folly, his determination to reorganise
+the whole league on a strictly non-sectarian
+basis. He described himself as a moral philosopher.
+Once more he became a figure of interest, again he
+raised the standard, again he attracted a small company
+of enthusiasts, again it was expected that God's
+enemies would be scattered. He invited his former
+secretary, a Roman Catholic, to join the new society,
+but he made it clear that Orange, a man of real
+distinction, was in no sense a prominent member.
+The precise dogmata of Mirafloreanism&mdash;a nickname
+given, I believe, in ironic sympathy by Mr. Disraeli&mdash;were
+undefined, but the term gradually became
+associated with those ideals of conduct, government,
+and Art which poets imagine, heroes realise, and the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>ignorant destroy. Men of all, sundry, and opposing
+beliefs presumed to its credentials. Some, because
+the club appeared to flourish, many because it was
+not yet overcrowded, and a few because they were in
+perfect agreement with the varying opinions of its
+ultimate presiding genius, Disraeli himself. They
+worked quietly, not in the House of Commons, but
+outside it, delivering lectures, writing books, starting
+newspapers, holding meetings, and enlisting the
+sympathies of rich, idle, ambitious, or titled women.
+There seemed no end or limit to the variety of their
+interests, their methods of labour, or their conceit.
+The club&mdash;judged by the leonine measure of success&mdash;as
+a club did little for learning or literary men. It
+became a mere meeting-house for dining and drinking,
+but it promoted cordiality among the leading members
+of the young Tory party, and brought persons together
+who could not, in the ordinary way of life, have met
+each other at all. Although the more gaudy and best
+known among them came from the first second-rate
+families in England, the rank and file were formed
+mainly by young men of good estate and breeding&mdash;the
+sons of clergy, country squires, or merchants, all
+sprung from that class which is called Middle, because
+it represents civilised society neither in its rough
+beginnings nor in its tawdry decay.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Berenville's remarks, it will be plainly seen, anticipate
+our history a little, for, at the time of which
+we write, the Bond of Association was still maintain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>ing
+a sickly existence on its original programme.
+Orange had not yet been invited to join it, nor
+had Lord Reckage declared himself a moral
+philosopher.</p>
+
+<p>On this particular afternoon his lordship entered,
+from the street, a narrow vestibule, the red walls of
+which were lit up by wax candles set at either end in
+ponderous bronze chandeliers. From this he passed
+into a square inner hall, paved with marble, and
+furnished by carved seats which had once belonged
+to the choir of an ancient chapel in Northumberland.
+Here he paused, for his attention was immediately
+arrested by a small group of four or five individuals
+who were talking with great earnestness at the foot
+of the oak staircase. Not that this was, in itself, an
+unusual event, for ever since a memorable day when
+the Earl of Bampton and the young Archdeacon of
+Soham, feeling warm, had ordered their tea to be
+served in that part of the building, it had been the
+fashion for distinguished members to assemble there,
+dispersing themselves in careless profusion among the
+statues of departed ecclesiastics or reclining pleasantly
+on the blue velvet divan which occupied the centre
+of the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Foremost in the little company on this occasion
+stood Sir Edward Ullweather and Nigel Bradwyn,
+both private secretaries, and each secretly convinced
+that his peculiar powers would have found brilliant,
+volcanic opportunities of demonstration in the other's
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>more promising berth. Ullweather, whose life had
+been devoted to the study of agricultural problems,
+was subordinate to the Secretary of State for War.
+Bradwyn, on the other hand, who had planted his
+soul in the East, was now learning what he could, at
+the nation's expense, of the nation's domestic policy.
+Demoralised by disappointment, and made cynical by
+toiling over interests for which they had, at best, but
+a forced regard, little remained in their breasts but a
+sore determination to make the best of an abiding
+discontent. In joining Lord Reckage's Committee,
+they found themselves again, as they believed, in a
+false position. The second-rate mind, whether represented
+in a person or by a council, shrinks from the
+adoption of simple measures, and invariably seeks to
+make itself conspicuous by so placing others as to
+make them appear unnecessary. The special genius
+of Lord Reckage was shown, perhaps, in his abilities
+in this direction, and, while he missed no opportunity
+of engaging men of proved capabilities for his service,
+his jealousy drove him so to employ them that they
+were never permitted to do their best either for him
+or for themselves. This policy carried in itself the
+sting for its own destruction.</p>
+
+<p>Not far from Ullweather and Bradwyn, Randall
+Hatchett, the youngest member of the Executive,
+lounged against a pillar. Proud of a distinction which
+he dared not comprehend (for a commercial shrewdness
+made him suspect that he owed his position less
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>to merit than to the subtle promises conveyed by a
+weak chin), this distinguished person tried to look the
+secrets which his colleagues had never permitted him
+to learn. In moody weariness he would sometimes
+condescend to the company of his subordinates on the
+General Committee and, while listening to their
+irresponsible prattle, he would seem to forget the
+onerous public interests the absolute neglect of which
+was his chief duty at the Council board.</p>
+
+<p>Near this gentleman were two others, Hartley
+Penborough, the editor of <i>The Sentinel</i>, and the Hon.
+Charles Aumerle, whose guest he was.</p>
+
+<p>As Lord Reckage entered and showed some intention
+of joining in the conversation, they appeared by a
+silent and common consent to ignore his approach.
+He turned to the hall porter, gave him some instructions
+in a low voice and passed on, livid with annoyance,
+to the library beyond.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hullo!&#8221; exclaimed Aumerle, &#8220;that was Reckage.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know it,&#8221; said Randall Hatchett.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why didn't you speak to him?&#8221; asked Aumerle.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because,&#8221; said Bradwyn, &#8220;our good Hatchett is
+not so sure of himself that he can afford to be civil
+even to a President out of fashion!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>No one smiled except Hatchett himself, because
+each one felt it was unwise to encourage Bradwyn's
+peculiar humour.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I would have spoken to Reckage,&#8221; said Ullweather,
+with a superior air, &#8220;but I have never felt
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>the same toward him since he threw over Orange at
+the time of his election.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And several other old friends more recently!&#8221;
+observed the injudicious Bradwyn.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't speak of myself,&#8221; said Ullweather, &#8220;but
+Orange was unusually devoted to the fellow; and all I
+wish to make clear is this, that when Reckage ever
+said or did the right thing in times past, the credit was
+solely due to Orange. He weeded prophecy from his
+speeches, and rudeness from his jokes. Great services,
+I assure you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;True,&#8221; said Randall Hatchett, &#8220;for there is
+nothing more fatal to a political career than brilliant
+impromptus and spirited orations. A statesman's
+words, like butcher's meat, should be well weighed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have so many prescriptions for success,&#8221; said
+Bradwyn, &#8220;that I wonder you ain't President yourself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Reckage has taken us all in,&#8221; said Ullweather.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By no means,&#8221; said Bradwyn. &#8220;I maintained
+from the first that he was overrated. His genial
+manner&mdash;his open-hearted smile! Men always smile
+at creditors whom they don't intend to pay.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I foretold the whole situation,&#8221; observed Penborough.
+&#8220;I said, &#8216;Let Reckage once get full power,
+and he will fool us all.&#8217; He affects not to be ambitious,
+and to prefer moral science to immoral politics.
+I have no faith in these active politicians who make
+long speeches to the public, and assure their friends, in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>very short notes, that they prefer trout-fishing to the
+cares of State! There is but one man who can save
+the society now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Bradwyn, Hatchett, and Ullweather looked up,
+each armed with a modest and repudiating smile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who?&#8221; asked Hatchett, looking down.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Robert Orange,&#8221; said Penborough.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Probably,&#8221; replied Hatchett, after a minute's
+hesitation. &#8220;Probably, Orange ... in time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don't you like him?&#8221; said Penborough.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Like him!&#8221; answered Hatchett, rolling up his
+eyes. &#8220;He's an angel!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He calls him an angel as though he wished he
+were one in reality,&#8221; said Bradwyn. &#8220;I know these
+generous rivals!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Ullweather stood gnawing his upper lip.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Orange,&#8221; he said, at last. &#8220;Oh, Orange has
+arrived. He will get no further. Of course, he won
+that election, but Dizzy managed that. Dizzy is the
+devil! And then, he is still devoted to Reckage, and,
+for a man of his supposed shrewdness, I call that a
+sign of evident weakness.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At this, Charles Aumerle, who had been listening
+with the deepest attention to all that passed, looked
+straight at the speaker.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You should respect,&#8221; said he, &#8220;that liberty, which
+we all have to deceive ourselves. Reckage has many
+good points.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But,&#8221; said Penborough, &#8220;he has no moral force,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>no imagination. He judges men by their manners,
+which is silly. He thinks that every one who is polite
+to him believes in him. He will have to send in his
+resignation before long.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don't mean it,&#8221; said Aumerle.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I mean more,&#8221; continued Penborough. &#8220;He
+could not choose a better moment than the present.
+In another month, on its present lines, the whole
+league will have foundered. Should he remain, he
+would have to sink with the ship. Now, however, it
+appears safe enough&mdash;people see only what you see&mdash;a
+good cargo of influential names on the committee
+and a clear horizon. He could plead ill-health, or his
+marriage&mdash;in fact, a dozen excellent reasons for
+momentary retirement. The world would praise his
+tact. As for the rest, those who have been disillusioned
+will lose their heads, those who were merely
+self-seekers will probably lose their places, but the
+trimmers always keep something. The thing, then,
+is to cultivate the art of trimming.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you forget that Reckage is going to marry
+Miss Carillon,&#8221; said Aumerle. &#8220;Miss Carillon will
+always advise the safe course.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That's all very well,&#8221; said Bradwyn, &#8220;but there
+has been too much arrangement in that marriage! I
+can tell you how the engagement came about. She
+was intimate with his aunt. He acquired the habit of
+her society on all decorous occasions. Still, he never
+proposed. The aunt invited her to Almouth. She
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>stayed two months. Still, not a word. Her papa grew
+impatient, ordered her home. The next day she came
+to the breakfast-table with red eyes, and announced her
+departure. The boxes were packed; she went to take
+a last look at the dear garden. Reckage followed, Fate
+accompanied him. He spoke. She sent a telegram
+to her papa: &#8216;Detained. Important. Will write.&#8217;
+No, the real woman for him was Lady Sara de
+Treverell.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Ullweather thrust his tongue into his cheek.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Lady Sara has been called to higher destinies,&#8221;
+said he, &#8220;than the heavenly &#8216;sweet hand in hand!&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see you know,&#8221; said Bradwyn, with a mysterious
+glance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said Ullweather. &#8220;The friendship of the
+Duke of Marshire for Lady Sara increases every day,
+and the little fit of giddiness which seized him when
+he was dining with my Chief makes me think that
+admiration is developing into love. I am in great
+hopes that this match may come off.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As to that,&#8221; said Hatchett, &#8220;her father and the
+Duke were the night before last at Brooks's, but no
+conversation passed between them. This does not
+look as though a very near alliance were in contemplation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There are prettier women than she in the world,&#8221;
+said Aumerle.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have never seen her,&#8221; said Penborough.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Large eyes, a small head, and the devil of a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>temper,&#8221; said Bradwyn; &#8220;and sympathies&mdash;there never
+was a young woman with so many sympathies! There
+is an old proverb,&#8221; he added, with a sneer, &#8220;&#8216;They are
+not all friends of the bridegroom who seem to be
+following the bride.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Ullweather was still absorbed in his own meditation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Marshire,&#8221; said he, &#8220;is the man for us. We might
+do something with Marshire.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nevertheless,&#8221; said Penborough, &#8220;I have my eye
+on Orange.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I say,&#8221; exclaimed Bradwyn, &#8220;be careful. Here is
+Reckage again. How the dickens did he pass us?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The men glanced up at a solitary figure which now
+appeared descending the broad staircase. In silence,
+and with a studied expression of contempt, without a
+look either to the right or to the left, the unpopular
+leader passed through the hall and out into the street.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A lonely beggar, after all,&#8221; said Bradwyn.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p><h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+
+<p>Reckage was dining at home that evening with
+Orange, whose marriage was to take place at the
+Alberian Embassy on the morrow. The young man
+was not in good spirits at his friend's step, for he
+himself was about to take a wife also, and much of
+the apprehension which he felt on his own account
+found its vent in dreary soliloquies on the risk, sacrifices,
+responsibilities, and trouble involved by the single
+act of saddling oneself for a lifetime with some one
+woman. Reckage, for his own part, had loved one
+lady very well, yet not so madly that he could resign
+himself to loving her only, to the exclusion of all others.
+He walked along toward Almouth House in a mood
+of many vexations, cursing the impudence of Bradwyn
+and Ullweather, wondering whether he had done
+wisely, after all, in engaging himself to the blameless
+Miss Carillon, sighing a little over a rumour which
+had reached him about Sara de Treverell and the
+Duke of Marshire, deploring the obstinacy of Robert
+Orange where Mrs. Parflete was concerned. He
+admitted that Mrs. Parflete was an exceedingly
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>beautiful, young, and, as it happened, rich person.
+He owned her delightfulness for a man of Robert's
+dreamy, romantic, intense temperament. But marriage
+between two idealists so highly strung, and so
+passionately attached as these two beings were&mdash;what
+would happen? No doubt they would be able to
+endure the inevitable disillusions&mdash;(inevitable because
+Nature is before all things sensual and has no care for
+mental prejudices one way or the other)&mdash;the inevitable
+disillusions of family life. It was scarcely possible
+that the devotion of Robert and Mrs. Parflete would
+not waver or seem less exquisite under this discipline.
+Their dream of love would become unparadised. It
+would gain a sadness, a melancholy, a note of despair
+hard to endure and most difficult to repress. Reckage
+had no transcendentalism in his own philosophy: he
+divided men into two classes&mdash;those who read, and
+those who could not stand, Dante. He included
+himself among the latter with a frankness at once
+astonishing and welcome even to numbers who
+thought him, in most matters, a hypocrite. The
+hold of the world was growing daily stronger upon
+him. His ambitions were already sullied by many
+unworthy and deadening ideas. He dwelt a great
+deal on the fleetingness of life, and the wisdom of
+making the best of its few charming things. Food,
+and wine, and money, and fine houses, and amusements
+were subjects on which he expended a large
+amount of silent enthusiasm. But, for all this, he
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>could still see much to admire&mdash;perhaps to envy&mdash;in
+Robert's more spiritual mind, and he dreaded&mdash;as men
+often do dread in such cases&mdash;the effect of a woman's
+companionship on so ascetic a character.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He knows nothing about women&mdash;nothing,&#8221; he
+told himself. &#8220;He has no experience. He takes
+them too seriously.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He was, while he admitted his own unreasonableness,
+a little shocked at the very notion of Orange
+with a wife and children. It went against the grain,
+and upset the ideals of austerity which he had carefully
+planned&mdash;not for himself, but for his friend. Robert,
+he urged, was born to be an example&mdash;an encouragement
+to those who were called, by the mercy of God,
+to less rigorous vocations. Reckage suffered many
+scruples of conscience on Robert's account; he surveyed
+him with a sense of disappointment; he had
+always supposed that he would ultimately turn Jesuit
+in sober earnest, and die a martyr's death in the Far
+East. This would, in his opinion, have been a fine
+end to a Quixotic, very touching, most remarkable
+life. Would he now immaturely fall a victim to an
+enticing face and the cares of a household? Would
+he be able to sustain his character? One thing was
+certain. He could never again expect to exercise precisely
+the same potent influence as he had in the past,
+over his earth-bound, self-indulgent friends. Self-indulgent
+people always exacted unusual privations
+from those who would seek to move them&mdash;and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>Robert's call was clearly to materialists rather than
+to the righteous. Pusey married, it was true. Keble
+married. No one thought the less of them on that
+account. Even the judicious Hooker married. And
+they were clergymen. Reckage called them priests.
+But Newman did not marry, and, while Reckage was
+unable to agree in the main with Newman's views, he
+had a fixed notion that he was the strong man&mdash;the
+master spirit&mdash;among them. And another consideration.
+The passion of love has a danger for very sensitive,
+reserved, and concentrated minds unknown to
+creatures of more volatile, expansive, and unreflecting
+disposition. Reckage knew well that he was himself
+too selfish a man to let affection for any one creature
+come between his soul and its God. There was no
+self-discipline required in his case when a choice had
+to be made between a human being and his own
+advantage&mdash;whether temporal or eternal. He had
+never&mdash;since he was a youth&mdash;felt an immoderate
+fondness for anybody; he had likes and dislikes,
+admirations and partialities, jealousies, too, and well-defined
+tastes where feminine beauty was in question,
+but it was not in him to err from excess of charity.
+The imaginative and visionary parts of life&mdash;and no
+one is wholly without them&mdash;soon turned into severe
+reality whenever he found himself confronted with
+that sole absorbing interest&mdash;his career. Marriage,
+in his own case, seemed an imperative duty. He was
+an eldest son, the heir to an earldom and a vast estate;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>he wished to lead a distinguished, comfortable, and
+edifying existence. His wife would be a helpmate,
+not a snare; the mother of his children, not the light
+of his eyes. But what a difference in Robert's case&mdash;with
+his capacity for worship, for really intense and
+absorbing passion. All this was especially transparent
+to Reckage, who, as a man of the world, had watched
+his friend for months, detecting the shattering physical
+effects of an iron restraint imposed on every thought,
+mood, and inclination. He had enjoyed the spectacle:
+it was a good fight&mdash;this sharp, unceasing struggle
+between mere human nature, young, vigorous, sane,
+indefatigable, and an upright soul full of tenderness,
+yet forced to live in constant warfare. Awe, too, had
+mingled in Reckage's sensations while he looked on;
+something of pity and terror stirred under the callous
+muscle which he called his heart at the sight of a
+voiceless, stifled despair outside the range of his personal
+experience, though not entirely beyond his sympathy.
+All men did not love after this fashion, he knew, but
+humanity was full of surprises, and he had been too
+calm a student of other men's lives to feel astonishment
+at any fresh revelation either of their pain, their perversity,
+or their humours. He had felt so sure, however,
+that Robert would, in the end, get the better of
+that unhappy attachment; everything in the process
+of time had to surrender to reason, and it was not
+possible, he thought, that a strong, self-reliant man
+could long remain subdued by a mere infatuation.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;And why doesn't he think of his health?&#8221; insisted
+Reckage; &#8220;it is really going between all this sleeplessness,
+and fasting, and over-work. Flesh and blood
+cannot bear the strain. He is never idle for one
+moment. He is afraid of brooding.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was with these sentiments of fear for the one
+creature he believed in, and hostility toward the
+woman who had presumed to interfere with the
+progress of that clear spirit, that he found himself at
+Almouth House. The blinds of the dining-room
+were but partially down. He could see the menservants
+within preparing the table which, set for two
+covers, showed a pretty display of cut-glass, flowers,
+old silver, and shining damask under the yellow rays
+of the lit candles. Some family portraits by Gainsborough
+and Reynolds, a Holbein, and a Vandyck,
+with lamps shining like footlights beneath them,
+were darkly visible on the dull blue walls. The
+famous mantelpiece inlaid with uncut turquoise was
+also within sight; and the sideboard with its load of
+Sèvres china and gold dishes. Reckage took great
+pride in these possessions, but it shocked his sense of
+dignity to see them thus exposed to the vulgar gaze.</p>
+
+<p>He let himself into the mansion with a latchkey,
+stormed at the servants for their carelessness, and
+made what is commonly known as a scene.</p>
+
+<p>Then he crossed the hall, and went into another
+fine room, which led by steps into a garden, and
+caught the sunset.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p>
+<p>Here, standing by the window with his back to the
+door, looking at the clouds, greyer than a gull's wing,
+which fled like driven souls across the sky, stood
+Orange.</p>
+
+<p>He turned as the latch moved, and Reckage, coming
+in, perceived the pale face, resolute, a little proud, and
+thoroughly inscrutable of his former secretary. Of
+fine height and broad-shouldered, Robert bore himself
+with peculiar firmness and ease. His brown eyes,
+with their brilliant, defiant glance, his close, dark
+beard, and powerful aquiline features; the entire
+absence of vanity, or the desire to produce an impression
+which showed itself in every line of his face
+and every movement of his body, indicated a type of
+individual more likely to attract the confidence of
+men than the sentimentality of women.</p>
+
+<p>The two young men greeted each other pleasantly,
+but with a certain reserve on each side.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So you are here!&#8221; said Reckage, seating himself.
+&#8220;I am sorry to be late. The fact is I caught sight of
+old Garrow and Sara de Treverell driving together in
+the Park, and it suddenly occurred to me to ask
+'em to dine with us to-night. I raced after their
+brougham, but my brute of a horse&mdash;Pluto: you
+know the beast&mdash;gave me such a lot of trouble that I
+couldn't speak to them. How are you? You don't
+look very fit. Perhaps you are glad that we are alone.
+But Sara is a nice girl, and full of kindness. She's a
+good friend, too&mdash;just the friend for your wife. I
+thought of that.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Robert resumed his post at the window, and studied
+the heavens. But if he sought for any answer to the
+many impassioned questions which were thronging his
+heart and mind at that moment, he looked in vain.
+For himself the struggles of the last year had been to
+a great degree subconscious. He had been like a sick
+man who, ignorant of the real gravity of his condition,
+fights death daily without a thought of the unequal
+strife, or the suspense of his physicians. He had
+abandoned himself to study, immersed himself in
+work; he was neither morbid nor an amorist; and
+while he felt a stinging misery for ever in his heart, he
+bore it with manly reticence, without complaint,
+without despair. Love, in his case, had meant the
+idealisation of the whole of life&mdash;the life of action and
+the life within the soul. It had transfigured the
+world, lit up and illumined every dark corner,
+answered every turbulent doubt. From the habit of
+this wholly mental emotion, he had lost, little by little,
+the sense of the actual bodily existence of the woman
+herself. It is true that he thought of her always as
+some one modestly beautiful, of childish form, with a
+face like a water-nymph's&mdash;imperious, magical, elusive,
+yet, whenever he found himself in her presence, she
+seemed further away than when they were, in fact, apart.
+The kiss he had given her on the day of their betrothal
+had been as strange, indefinable, and irrealisable as the
+passing of one hour into the next. There had been
+the time before he kissed her, there was the time
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>afterwards, but the transition had been so swift, and
+so little recognised, so inevitable, that while it drew
+both their lives down deep into the wild, pitiless surge
+of human feeling, she still remained more dearly and
+completely his by intuition than when he held her&mdash;a
+true woman&mdash;in his arms. The moral training of a
+lifetime, the unceasing, daily discipline of a mind
+indulgent to others, but most severe with itself, had
+given him a self-mastery in impulse and desire which,
+although the aspect of affairs had changed, he could
+not easily, or even willingly, relax. His soul drew
+back from its new privileges, sweet as they were&mdash;and
+he was too honest to deny their overpowering
+sweetness&mdash;they seemed like the desecration of a most
+sacred thought. Vainly he reasoned, vainly he admitted
+the folly of such scruples. They remained.
+Asceticism is a faithful quality. It is won by slow
+and painful stages, with bitter distress and mortifying
+tears, but once really gained, the losing is even harder
+than the struggle for its acquisition.</p>
+
+<p>And so the young man found himself in that hard
+position when judgment and prejudice stand opposed
+so utterly that victory either way must mean a lasting
+regret. Perhaps he was not the first bridegroom who
+felt loath, on the eve of his marriage, to change the
+delicate, almost ethereal tenderness of betrothed lovers
+for the close and intimate association of husband and
+wife. The one relationship has something in it immaterial,
+exquisite, and unearthly, a bond invisible and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>yet as potent as the winds we cannot see and the
+melodies we only hear. The other, with its profound
+appeals to mortality, its demands upon all that is
+strongest in affection and eternal in courage, its irreparableness,
+suffering, and constancy, might, indeed,
+have the grandeur of all human tragedy, and the
+dignity of a holy state; but that it could ever be so
+beautiful as the love which is a silent influence was
+to Robert then, at least, an inconceivable idea. He
+felt upon him and around him, in his flesh and in his
+spirit, in the air and in the whole world, the all-enveloping
+shadow of remorse. The dormant possibilities
+of his own fanatical nature rose up before him&mdash;pale,
+inarticulate fiercenesses crushed so long, and
+now trembling eagerly under his breath at the prospect
+of a little more liberty in loving. A suspicion
+that already he loved perhaps too well and far
+too passionately thrilled through his conscience, and
+tortured a heart to whom thought was a refuge and
+feeling a martyrdom.</p>
+
+<p>Reckage, watching Robert from a corner of the
+room, grew irritated at the silence, and wondered,
+with a cruel and jealous curiosity, what was passing in
+his mind. He wondered whether he was praying. An
+impulse, which had something in it of brute fury, urged
+him to tear open that still face and drag the thoughts
+behind it to the light. Why was it that one could
+never, by any sense, enter into another's spirit? The
+same torturing mystery had often disturbed him during
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>the half-hours&mdash;outwardly placid and commonplace&mdash;which
+he spent, out of etiquette, with his future bride.
+She, too, retired behind the veil of her countenance to
+live a hidden life that he could never hope to join.
+How lonely was companionship in these conditions,
+and how desolate marriage!</p>
+
+<p>He could not resist the temptation to break in, with
+a touch of crude satire, upon his friend's solitude.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is the matter?&#8221; he exclaimed, &#8220;are you
+hungry?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; said Robert, so well accustomed to such
+violent jars that they could no longer disturb him;
+&#8220;I was only thinking....&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;About what?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All sorts of things.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Reckage turned pale from dissatisfied inquisitiveness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think, too,&#8221; he answered, &#8220;but I can throw
+out a word now and again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then, making the remark that he was not dressed
+for dinner, he left the room.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p><h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+
+<p>The dinner, in the ordering of which the host had
+expended all his gastronomical knowledge and much
+anxiety, seemed long. Orange found himself opposite
+the famous portrait of &#8220;Edwyn, Lord Reckage of
+Almouth,&#8221; which represents that nobleman elaborately
+dressed, reclining on a grassy bank by a spring of
+water, with a wooded landscape, a sunrise, and a
+squire holding two horses in the distance. Robert
+studied, and remembered always, every detail of that
+singular composition. The warrior's shield, with its
+motto &#8220;<i>Magica sympathia</i>,&#8221; his fat white hands,
+velvet breeches, steel cuirass, and stiff lace collar
+remained for days a grotesque image before his
+mind. He traced, too, a certain resemblance between
+Reckage and that ancestor&mdash;they both wore pointed
+red beards, both were fair of skin, both had a dreaming
+violence in their blue eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must have some pheasant,&#8221; said his lordship,
+at last. &#8220;You are eating nothing. And that
+Burgundy, you know, is unique of its kind. It was
+a present from the Emperor of the French to mamma.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>Her people were civil to him when he was regarded
+as a sort of adventurer. And he never forgot it.
+He's a very decent fellow. I dined with him at the
+Tuileries&mdash;did I mention it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Robert replied that he fancied he had heard of the
+occurrence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; continued his friend, &#8220;I might have
+enjoyed that experience, but I was feeling depressed
+at the time; a lot of the depression went under the
+influence of frivolous talk, military music, and champagne.
+Yet, all the same, do these things really
+count for much? I felt just as wretched afterwards.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The glimpse he had obtained that afternoon of Sara
+de Treverell&mdash;Sara flushed with agitation, very bright
+in her glance, exceedingly subtle in her smile, had
+stirred a great tenderness he had once felt for that
+young lady. The news, too, that she had been
+chosen as a bride by the prudent, rich, and most
+important Duke of Marshire made his lordship feel
+that perhaps he had committed a blunder in not
+having secured her, during her first season, for himself.
+He feared that he had lost an opportunity;
+and this reflection, while it lowered temporarily his
+self-esteem, placed Sara on a dangerous eminence.
+She would be a duchess&mdash;one of the great duchesses.
+Little Sara!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She was looking extraordinarily handsome,&#8221; he
+exclaimed. &#8220;Of course she means to take him.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>But she liked me at one time. I am speaking of
+Sara de Treverell. Marshire is by way of being a
+stick. Who could have imagined him going in for
+a high-spirited, brilliant girl like Sara?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Formerly he had always spoken of Sara as a clever
+little devil, but Robert showed no surprise at the new
+adjective.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Brilliant!&#8221; repeated his lordship. &#8220;Don't you
+agree?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Absolutely. She is the most brilliant girl in
+London.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But heartless,&#8221; said his lordship pathetically;
+&#8220;she hasn't one bit of heart.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There I don't agree with you. Of course she is
+strange and rather wild.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Tête-montée.</i> And then the Asiatic streak!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;True. The fiercest wind cannot take the angles
+out of the bough of a tree an inch thick. You may
+break it, but you cannot destroy its angles. That is
+so, no doubt, with one's racial tendencies. The girl
+is wilful and romantic. It will be very bad for them
+both if there is no love on her side. She is capable, I
+should say, of very deep affection.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She did like me,&#8221; said his lordship, with emphasis
+and satisfaction&mdash;&#8220;she really did. And I wouldn't
+encourage it. I had no notion then of marrying.
+Her singularity, too, made me cautious. I couldn't
+believe in her. She talked like an actress in a play.
+I felt that she was not the woman for me. Essentially
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>she thought as I did, and seemed to comprehend my
+embarrassment. The worst of it is now&mdash;I may have
+been wrong.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I doubt it. You may be sure, on the whole, that
+your instincts were right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Still, there is a distinct misgiving. I was drawn
+toward her, and, when I made up my mind to put an
+end to the matter, our friendship was severely strained.
+But it was not broken. Something I saw in her face
+to-day makes me sure that it was not broken.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>While he was speaking the servant entered with
+a salver, and on the salver was a note. The address
+showed Sara's large, defiant hand-writing. Reckage,
+who had a touch of superstition in his nature, changed
+colour and even hesitated before he broke the seal.
+The coincidence seemed extraordinary and fatal.
+What did it mean? He read the letter with an
+irresistible feeling of proud delight.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="i8">&#8220;<span class="smcap">20a, St. James's Square</span>, W.</p><p class="nospaceabove">&#8220;<span class="smcap">My dear Beauclerk</span>,&mdash;Will you lunch with us to-morrow
+at two o'clock? Papa has invited a friend&mdash;a
+dreadful, boring friend&mdash;who has been absent from
+England for five years. Do you know the man? Sir
+Piers Harding? But I want some one to encourage me.
+You? Do!</p><p class="i8">&#8220;Yours sincerely,</p><p class="i12 nospaceabove">&#8220;S. L. V. <span class="smcap">de Treverell</span>.</p><p>&#8220;P.S.&mdash;I am so happy about you and Agnes. Be kind
+to her always? Won't you?&#8221;</p></blockquote>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p>
+<p>All his life he had found a difficulty in understanding
+women&mdash;the significance of their words, the
+precise translation of their glances, and their motives
+generally. He had nourished his experience on French
+novels; he had corrected it by various friendships; he
+had crowned it with the confession that one could
+never tell what the sex meant one way or the other.
+But this fact remained&mdash;he was a coxcomb, and,
+whenever he owned himself puzzled, it was on a
+single ground only&mdash;how seriously was the lady at
+stake affected by his charms? Feeling, as he did,
+the infinite inequality that existed between men, and
+conscious of his own reputation as a leader among
+them, it was not in his conscience to encourage any
+woman whom he did not find especially attractive
+or useful. Why spoil her chances? Why make her
+discontented with the average male creature? Had
+Sara written to him in ordinary circumstances, inviting
+him, after some months of mutual coldness,
+to lunch, he would have replied, with sorrowful
+dignity, that it was wiser to leave things as they
+were. But the case had altered. The future
+Duchess of Marshire was a personage. He made
+no secret of his admiration for all people of high
+rank. They represented influence and traditions;
+what was more, they could exercise a certain power,
+and introduce, when necessary, the ideas upon
+which fresh traditions could be based. A friend
+like Sara de Treverell with her new honours
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>made life itself more rich to him. When he remembered
+that she was young, handsome, enthusiastic,
+and impulsive, his pleasure thrilled into something of
+genuine passion. He told himself that he had always
+been fond of the girl; that hundreds of times he had
+felt the hardness of his scrupulous position where she
+was concerned. If he had been asked what especially
+he conceived his own duty to be now, he would have
+said that it was not for him to hang back when she
+showed a coming spirit. But this was not all. He
+was a gamester; he was ambitious.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is very odd,&#8221; said he, reading Sara's note for
+the second time, &#8220;very odd. There's no harm in
+showing it to you, because there is nothing in it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He gave it to his friend, and ate, pleasantly, while
+Orange glanced down the page. His soul's wish was
+to be left alone. The effort of forcing himself&mdash;not
+to affect but honestly to feel&mdash;an interest in Reckage's
+conversation had proved successful. He had indeed
+put aside his own thoughts, and followed, with the
+exaggerated earnestness of a mind determined on self-sacrifice,
+every word his companion had uttered.
+The spirit invisible wears the laurel of mental
+victories, but the body has to bear the exhaustion, the
+scars, and the soreness. He was tired, but he stirred
+himself again to consider Sara's note. In the course
+of that year she had written several letters to Orange&mdash;letters
+about books, new pictures, and new music.
+Once she had given him a little song of her own
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>composition as something of which she &#8220;desired to
+hear no more for ever.&#8221; The song was sentimental, and
+he locked it away, wondering at the time whether she
+really had an unfortunate affection for Lord Reckage.
+But in reading her note that evening he decided against
+his original fear. Women did not write in that strain
+to men whom they loved, or had ever loved ... even
+passably well. He returned it to the owner with this
+comment&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A woman, you know, is like your shadow: run
+away from her and she follows you; run after her and
+she flies from you. That's an old saying. It is true
+so long as she does not love the man. And when she
+loves the man&mdash;well, then she ceases to be a shadow.
+She becomes a living thing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is no answer at all. If you could read her
+heart and whole thought at this moment, what would
+you see there?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Unhappiness,&#8221; said Robert; &#8220;discontent.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Reckage took the little sheet and folded it into his
+pocket-book.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That's wonderful,&#8221; said he, &#8220;because the same
+things are in my mind, too. I wish I could describe
+my feelings about Agnes. She satisfies the æsthetic
+side of my nature. But there is another side. And
+Sara comes nearer to it than she. Mind you, I know
+my duty in the matter. There are things which one
+is compelled to do under tremendous penalties. I have
+chosen, and I must abide by my choice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Robert looked well at his friend, and saw, in his
+expression, all that he had known would inevitably,
+either soon or too late, work to the surface.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yet the old tremulous affection lies in me,&#8221; continued
+Reckage; &#8220;my nerves are in a kind of blaze.
+You couldn't tell anything about it, because you don't
+know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor's burgundy, no doubt, had warmed
+his spirit to communicativeness. He drew his chair
+closer to the table, and talked in a low voice about his
+ghastly solitude of soul. His engagement to Miss
+Carillon had not been an agreeable experience.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And marriage,&#8221; said he, &#8220;will be the crowning
+point of these unbearable days. In the present state
+of my feelings it would be awful. Agnes is very
+kind and most conscientious, but she does not know
+what is in me, what was always and will always be
+there. Old reminiscences crowd round me. They
+are very beautiful, although they are so sad.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is one to do?&#8221; said Robert, &#8220;in the presence
+of fate and facts? It is necessary to look the affair in
+the face. Do you, or don't you, wish to marry Miss
+Carillon?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do, and I don't,&#8221; answered Reckage doggedly.
+&#8220;But I can't close my eyes to the circumstances of
+the case. I found myself hard bested from the very
+beginning. I knew that I was expected to marry her.
+I knew, too, that it was a suitable match in every way.
+But then every girl is, to some extent, accomplished,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>pious, virtuous, and intelligent. I believe sometimes
+that my apparent indifference towards Agnes arises
+from the fact that I respect her&mdash;if anything&mdash;too
+much. She seems too remote&mdash;that is the word&mdash;for
+the ordinary wear and tear of domesticity. Other
+men&mdash;who might be called impassioned lovers&mdash;would
+be less scrupulous. I maintain that devotion of that
+violent kind is worth absolutely nothing. And I claim
+to know a little about life and love.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I should say,&#8221; said Orange, &#8220;that you knew more
+about mere physiology.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Reckage laughed uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You keep your mediæval views!&#8221; said he. &#8220;Perhaps
+I envy you. I can't say. I don't think I envy
+any one. I am quite contented.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then what are you driving at?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh well, a fellow must think. You see, Sara suits
+me, in a sense. I am not afraid of her. Now a wife
+is a sacred object. You might as well flirt with the
+Ten Commandments as fall in love with your wife. I
+say, never begin love-making with the lady you hope
+to marry. It will end in disaster. Because the day
+must come when she will wonder why you have
+changed. No, a wife should be the one woman in the
+world with whom you can spend days and weeks of
+unreproved coldness.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They were now smoking, and the tobacco seemed
+to produce a tranquillising effect upon his lordship. He
+closed his lips and amused himself by puffing rings of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>smoke into the air. When he next spoke, he suggested
+a visit to the theatre. He had engaged a box
+for the new burlesque, &#8220;<i>The Blue Princess</i>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It will be very good, and it will cheer us up,&#8221;
+said he.</p>
+
+<p>Orange was in no mood for the entertainment, but
+Reckage's evident misery seemed to require a fresh
+scene. The streets, as they left the house, were full
+of a deep purple fog, through which shone out, with a
+dull and brazen gleam, the lights of lamps and passing
+carriages. Above them, the sky was but a pall or
+vapour; the air, charged with the emotions, the struggling
+energy, the cruelty, confusion, painfulness, and
+unceasing agitation of life in a vast city, was damp and
+stifling; a noise of traffic&mdash;as loud but not so terrible
+as a breaking storm&mdash;destroyed the peace of night;
+there were foot passengers of every age and description
+moving like rooks in the wind, over the pavement,
+and vehicles filled with men and women&mdash;an irremediable
+pilgrimage bound, for the greater part, on pleasure.
+Robert felt that he would have given gladly the treasures
+of a universe for just the time to think a little
+while of his own love. So far that great attachment
+had brought him aberrations, sorrow, and perplexities;
+all its sweetness had flown, moth-like, into his heart,
+there to be burnt&mdash;burnt yet left unburied: all its
+happiness had glorified his life against his will; all its
+beauty had been starved with a pitiless rigour. What
+then had remained? A certain state of mind&mdash;a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>passionate resignation to its own indomitable cravings.
+And now on the eve of his marriage&mdash;a marriage never
+so much as imagined, far less hoped for&mdash;he could not
+have the leisure to behold, through tears of relief,
+the complete transformation of his destiny&mdash;once so
+frightful, now so joyous. The theatre was crowded,
+and when the two young men entered their box
+the burlesque was at the beginning of the second
+act. The scene represented an orange grove by
+moonlight, and a handsome girl in spangled muslin
+was whispering loudly, to an accompaniment of harps,
+her eternal fidelity to a gesticulating troubadour. Both
+performers were immensely popular, and the duet,
+with its refrain&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Love, I will love thee always,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For ever is not too long;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Love, e'en in dark and dreary days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">This shall be my one song,&#8221;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>was repeated three times to the smiling, serene, and
+thoroughly convinced audience. Reckage, who
+attended public places of amusement solely from the
+desire of exhibiting himself, gave but a side-glance at
+the stage and turned his opera glass upon the auditorium.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Really, town is very full,&#8221; said he; &#8220;I suppose
+many of them are up for the Hauconberg wedding.
+There's old Cliddesdon&mdash;just look at him. Did you
+ever see such an infernal ass? Hullo! I thought that
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>Millie Warfield wouldn't be far off. She's a perfect
+rack of bones. Lady Michelmarsh is getting rather
+pretty&mdash;it's wonderful how these dowdy girls can
+work up their profiles after a month or two in town.
+She was a lump as a bride&mdash;a regular lump. You
+never met anything like it. Aumerle is talking to
+her now. He was at the Capitol this afternoon. He
+begins to give himself airs. I can't stand him. In
+fact, I cannot understand those fellows on my sub-committee.
+Sometimes they are&mdash;if anything&mdash;too
+civil. A bit servile, in fact. Then they turn out and
+look as though they would like to make their teeth
+meet in my backbone. They sulk, and whisper in
+groups, and snicker. I am getting sick of it. I must
+get rid of them. By Jove! there's David Rennes,
+the painter. I thought he was at Amesbury&mdash;with
+the Carillons, doing Agnes's portrait. It can't be
+finished. She said distinctly in her letter this morning&mdash;&#8220;I
+may not add more because I have to give Mr.
+Rennes a sitting while the light is good.&#8221; Where's
+the letter? I must have left it on the breakfast-table.
+Anyhow that is what she said. I'll catch Rennes' eye
+and have him up. He is not a bad sort.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The act-drop had now descended, the lights were
+turned on to their full power, and Orange, following
+the direction of Reckage's gaze, saw, in the last row of
+the stalls, a large man about nine-and-thirty with
+an emotional, nervous face, a heavy beard, and dense
+black hair. He was leaning forward, for the seat in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>front of him was, at the moment, vacant; his hands
+were tightly locked, his eyes fixed on the curtain. At
+last Reckage's determined stare produced its effect.
+He moved, glanced toward the box, and, in response
+to his lordship's signal, left his place. Two minutes
+later Orange heard a tap at the door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That's right,&#8221; said Reckage, as Rennes entered,
+&#8220;take Orange's chair. He doesn't care a bit about
+the play, or anything in it. He is going to get
+married to-morrow. You know Robert Orange,
+don't you? You ought to paint him. Saint Augustine
+with a future. <i>Mon devoir, mes livres, et puis ... et
+puis, madame, ma femme.</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor's burgundy, indeed, had not been
+opened in vain. Rennes could talk well, sometimes
+brilliantly, often with originality, and, with the tact of
+all highly sensitive beings, he led the conversation
+into impersonal themes. He said Miss Carillon's
+portrait was not yet finished, but he changed that
+subject immediately, and the evening, which had been
+to Orange a trial of patience, ended rather better
+than it began. Lord Reckage invited Rennes to
+accompany them home. The artist did not appear,
+at first, in the mood to accept that invitation. He,
+too, seemed to have many things he wished to think
+about undisturbed, and in the silence of his own
+company. His hesitation passed, however; the kindness
+in his nature had been roused by something
+unusual, haunting, ominous in Robert's face.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I will come,&#8221; said he.</p>
+
+<p>All the way, on their walk to Almouth House, he
+kept Reckage amused. Orange never once felt
+under the necessity to speak. He was able to dream,
+to hold his breath, to remember that he loved and
+was loved again, that he would see her to-morrow&mdash;to-morrow
+quite early, and then, no more unutterable
+farewells, heart-desolating separations. He surprised
+himself by saying aloud&mdash;&#8220;I love you ... I love
+you.&#8221; The two men, engrossed in talk, did not hear
+him. But he had caught the words, and it seemed
+as though he heard his own voice for the first
+time.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must want some supper,&#8221; said Reckage&mdash;&#8220;a
+rum omelette.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No! no! I couldn't.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He sat down to the table, however, and watched
+them eat. First the burlesque was discussed, then the
+actresses, the dresses, the dancing.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Russia is the place for dancing,&#8221; said Reckage,
+&#8220;I assure you. There was a dancer at Petersburg.... Something-or-other-<i>ewski</i>
+was her name, and
+a fellow shot himself while I was there on her account.
+An awful fool. I can tell you who painted
+her portrait. A Frenchman called Carolus-Duran. I
+believe he has a career before him. What is your
+opinion of French art?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Rennes had studied in Paris and was well acquainted
+with the artist in question. They talked
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>about the exhibitions of the year and the prices paid
+at a recent sale of pictures.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Old Garrow has some fine pictures,&#8221; said Reckage.
+&#8220;I would give a good deal for his Ghirlandajo.
+Do you know it? And then that noble Tintoret?
+There are so many persons whose position in life
+compels them to encourage art without having any
+real enjoyment of it. Garrow is one of those persons.
+But his daughter, Lady Sara, has a touch of
+genius. She's a musician. You have heard her play,
+haven't you, Robert?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Robert had, at that instant, observed upon the
+mantelpiece a letter addressed to himself. It was
+from Brigit. He grew pale, and retired, with the
+little envelope lightly written on, to a far corner of the
+room. For some moments he could not break the
+seal. The sight of her writing filled him with a kind
+of agony&mdash;something beyond his control, beyond his
+comprehension. What did it mean&mdash;this tightening of
+the heart, this touch of fear, and love, and fear again,
+so deep that the whole web of life trembled and its
+strings grew confused one with another, and all was
+anguish, darkness, self-renunciation, and a wild, a
+dreadful mystery of human influence? At last he
+opened the letter.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>&#8220;<span class="smcap">My dearest</span>,&#8221; it began, &#8220;I can never say all that
+I wish to say, because when I am with you I forget
+everything and watch your face. When I am away
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>from you I forget your face, and I long to see it again
+in order that I may remember it more perfectly! It
+is so hard not to think of you too often. But I have
+had a great deal of sorrow, and everything I have in
+the world&mdash;except you&mdash;is a grief. I know that we
+are not born to be happy, and so, I wonder, have we
+stolen our happiness? If it is a gift&mdash;I know not what
+to do with it. I cannot speak a happy language: the
+atmosphere is strange and frightens me. Dear Robert,
+I am terrified, uncertain, but when we meet to-morrow
+you will give me courage. And then, as we shall not
+part again, I need never again be, as I am now, too
+anxious. Your <span class="smcap">Brigit</span>.&#8221;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Reckage's voice broke in again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do wish you would try this rum omelette. It is
+capital.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Orange laughed, but left the room. Rennes remarked
+that he had a powerful face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. He has a strong character. And he would
+never deceive another. But he deceives himself hourly&mdash;daily.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In what way?&#8221; asked Rennes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He doesn't know,&#8221; said Reckage, &#8220;what a devilish
+fine chap he is! I wish to God that I could prevent
+this marriage.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I say nothing against Mrs. Parflete. She's a high-class
+woman and so on. Awfully beautiful, too. As
+clever as they make 'em, and not a breath against her.
+All the same, I am not very sweet on love matches
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>for men of Orange's calibre. They never answer&mdash;never.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't agree with you there,&#8221; replied the artist,
+&#8220;because I believe that a love match&mdash;even when it
+dissolves, as it may, into a mistake&mdash;is the best thing
+that can happen to any man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>After this they discussed bindings. Lord Reckage
+was the first amateur authority on the subject.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p><h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+
+<p>At five the next morning Robert was writing letters.
+Then, as soon as the gates of Hyde Park were open, he
+walked out. The recurrence of familiar sentiments on
+the essentials that make up the condition known as
+happiness would neither convince, nor inspire, the
+powers of an imagination which, with all its richness,
+was, apart from the purely artistic faculty, analytical
+and foreboding. Self-doubt, however, has no part in
+passion. Of the many miseries it may bring, this,
+perhaps the worst of human woes, can never be in its
+train. Men in love&mdash;and women also&mdash;may distrust
+all things and all creatures, but their own emotion, like
+the storm, proves the reality of its force by the
+mischief it wreaks. Robert's spirit, borne along by
+this vehemence of feeling, caught the keen sweetness
+of the early air, not yet infected by the day's traffic.
+His melancholy&mdash;the inevitable melancholy produced
+by sustained thought on any subject, whether sublime
+or simple&mdash;was dispelled. The Park, which was empty
+but for a few men on their way to work, and
+runners anxious to keep in training, had its great trees
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>still beautiful from the lingering glance of summer;
+the wide and misty stretches of grey grass were fresh
+in dew; the softness and haze&mdash;without the gloom&mdash;of
+autumn were in the atmosphere. The pride of love
+requited and the instincts of youth could not resist
+these spells of nature. Robert remembered only that
+it was his wedding-day: that every throb of his pulse
+and every second of time brought him nearer to the
+supreme joy of his life and the supreme moment. He
+had never used his nerves with bliss and tears, and he
+did not belong to the large army of young gentlemen
+who own themselves proudly</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Light half-believers of our casual creeds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who never deeply felt, nor clearly will'd....<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who hesitate and falter life away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lose to-morrow the ground won to-day.&#8221;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>This view of heroism was not possible to him, and he
+was too strong in mind and body to pretend to it.
+The two things which affect a career most profoundly
+are religion, or the lack of it, and marriage&mdash;or not
+marrying; for these things only penetrate to the soul
+and make what may be called its perpetual atmosphere.
+The Catholic Faith, which ignores no single possibility
+in human feeling and no possible flight in human
+idealism, produces in those who hold it truly a freshness
+of heart very hard to be understood by the dispassionate
+critic who weighs character by the newest laws of his
+favourite degenerate, but never by the primeval tests
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>of God. Robert, therefore, was thinking of his
+bride's face, the pure curves of her mouth, her sapphirine
+eyes, her pretty hands, her golden hair, the
+nose which others found fault with, which he, nevertheless,
+thought wholly delightful. He wondered what
+she would say and how she would look when they met.
+Would she be pale? Would she be frightened? There
+had always been a certain agony in every former meeting
+because of the farewell which had to follow. With
+all his habits of self-control, he had never been able to
+feel quite sure that the word too much would not be
+said, that the glance too long would not be given.
+Her own simplicity, he told himself, had saved him
+from disaster. She showed her affection so fearlessly&mdash;with
+such tender and discerning trust&mdash;that his worst
+struggles were in solitude&mdash;not in her presence at all.
+It was when he was away from her immediate peaceful
+influence that the fever, the restlessness, the torments
+and the desperation (has not old Burton summed up
+for us the whole situation and all the symptoms in his
+&#8220;<i>Anatomy</i>&#8221;?) had to be endured and conquered. These
+trials now&mdash;for even a sense of humour could not make
+them less than trials&mdash;were ended. The tragi-comic
+labour of walking too much and riding too much,
+working and smoking too much, thinking and sleeping
+too little&mdash;the whole dreary business, in fact, of stifling
+any absorbing idea or ruling passion, would be no
+more.</p>
+
+<p>When he returned to Almouth House, Reckage
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>was already dressed for his official duties as &#8220;best
+man.&#8221; He felt an unwonted and genuine excitement
+about Robert's marriage. He put aside the languor,
+<i>ennui</i>, and depression which he felt too easily on most
+occasions, and, that day at least, he was, as his own
+servant expressed it, &#8220;nervous and cut-up.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall miss the swimming, the boxing, the
+fencing, and the pistol practice,&#8221; he complained, referring
+to diversions in which Orange was an expert
+and himself the bored but dutiful participant. &#8220;They
+nearly always drop these things when they marry.&#8221;
+The loss he really feared was the moral support and
+affection of his former secretary&mdash;advantages which a
+selfish nature is slow to appreciate, yet most tenacious
+of when once convinced of their use. The nuptial
+mass had been fixed for eight o'clock, the wedding
+party were to breakfast at Almouth House afterwards,
+then the bride and groom were to leave by the mail
+for Southampton <i>en route</i> for Miraflores in Northern
+France. The two young men drove together to the
+chapel attached to the Alberian Embassy. Not a
+word passed between them, but Reckage, under his
+eyelids, examined every detail of his friend's attire.
+He wondered at its satisfactoriness on the whole, inasmuch
+as Orange had not seen fit to consult him on
+the point. The church was small and grey and
+sombre; the flowers on the altar (sent by his lordship)
+were all white; their perfume filled the building.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They look very nice,&#8221; said Reckage, &#8220;and in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>excellent taste. Some of these old pictures on the
+wall are uncommonly good, and I particularly like that
+bronze crucifix. Ten to one if it isn't genuine
+eleventh century. I will ask the old fellow afterwards.
+He's a dear. His Latin is lovely. It's an
+artistic pleasure to hear him read the Gospel. I
+looked in the other morning, just to get the run, as it
+were, of the place. By Jove! Here they are.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pensée Fitz Rewes came first&mdash;very graceful in
+lavender silk, and accompanied by her little boy, who
+showed by an unconscious anxiety of expression that
+he felt instinctively his mother's air of contentment
+was assumed. Then Baron Zeuill, with Brigit on
+his arm, followed. The Baron looked grave&mdash;too
+grave for the happy circumstances. Brigit seemed as
+pale as the lilies on the altar; she was less beautiful
+but more ethereal than usual. There was something
+frail, transparent, unsubstantial about her that day
+which Robert had never noticed before. Had the
+many emotional strains of the last year tried her
+delicate youth beyond endurance? She seemed very
+childish, too, and immature. She took Orange's hand
+when he met her, held it closely, and watched the
+others with a kind of wonder most pitiful to witness&mdash;as
+though she had suffered too much from her
+contact with life and could no more. Her eyes seemed
+darker than the sapphires to which Robert had so
+often compared them: this effect, he told himself, was
+due to the strong contrast given by the pallor of her
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>face. It was quite clear, however, that she was not
+under the influence then of any dominant thought.
+Her nerves and senses were strained to that extreme
+tension resembling apathy, until the vibration given
+by some touch or tone sets the whole system trembling
+with all the spiritual and bodily forces which make the
+mystery of human life. She spoke her responses,
+signed the register, and walked out from the church
+on Robert's arm without a single change of countenance
+or token of feeling. As they drove away
+from the church, she flushed a little and drew far
+back, with a new timidity, into her corner. One look
+she gave of perfect love and confidence. She pressed
+his hand and held it, for a moment, against her cheek.
+But neither of them spoke. And indeed, what was
+there to be said? The identification of their two
+minds had been full and absolute from the moment of
+their first encounter long ago in Chambord. The
+accidental differences of sex and age, training, accomplishments,
+and education had not affected&mdash;and could
+not affect&mdash;a sympathy in temperament which depended&mdash;not
+on the similarity of opinions&mdash;but on a
+similarity of moral fibre. Many forms can be cut, by
+the same hand, from the same piece of marble, and
+although one may be a grotesque and the other a
+cross, one a pursuing goddess and the other an angel
+for a tomb, the same substance, light, touch, and
+colour will be characteristic of all four. Marriage, at
+best, could but give a certain crude emphasis to the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>strange spiritual bond which united these two beings.
+Practical as they both were in the common affairs of
+life, they shrank from anything which would promise
+to materialise the subtleties of the mind. Some
+thoughts, they felt, were as impalpable as sounds,
+and, just as music ceases to be divine when it is
+poured out of some mechanical contrivance, so the
+mysteries of the human soul become mere bodily conditions&mdash;more
+or less humiliating&mdash;when demonstrated,
+catalogued, and legalised. There is nothing modern
+nor uncommon in this especial disposition. One may
+describe it as ascetic, anæmic, sentimental, hysterical,
+neurotic; but the men and women who possess this
+fragile organism show, as a rule, powers of endurance
+and a strength of will by no means characteristic of
+the average sanguine and sensual creature who eats,
+drinks, fights, loves, and does his best in a world which
+he calls vile, yet would not renounce for all the
+ecstasies of Paradise.</p>
+
+<p>The carriage wheels rolled on&mdash;as swift and noiseless
+as the sand in an hour-glass. Why was the road
+so short? Why could they not be carried thus for
+ever, tranquil with happiness, wanting nothing, seeking
+nothing, bound no-whither? Foolish questions and
+a foolish longing: yet happiness consists in being able
+to formulate wishes with the serene knowledge that
+a better wisdom directs their fulfilment. Neither
+passers-by nor other vehicles, neither houses nor streets
+caught the entranced attention of these young lovers.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>The delight of being purely self-absorbed is very great
+and intoxicating to those who are constantly&mdash;either
+by desire or the force of circumstances&mdash;unselfish. A
+faint flush swept into Brigit's face under the effect of
+an experience so novel. Their twofold consciousness
+had all the pathos of self-effacement, and all the thrill
+of satisfied egoism. Such instants cannot last, and
+they are shortest when one's habits of thought are
+antagonistic to such luxury. Brigit sighed deeply,
+and roused herself with a painful sense that the minute
+she wilfully cut short had been the sweetest in her life.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pensée,&#8221; she said, &#8220;has been so kind to me. She
+gave me her room at Wight House last night. She
+had the little dressing-room just off it. Did you notice
+her dress? She was very anxious that you should
+like it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She seemed all right,&#8221; said Robert; &#8220;and wasn't
+Reckage splendid?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Having spoilt their perfect moment, they became
+as mere mortals, more at ease in this planet, where
+complete joy has an unfamiliar mien. Brigit's
+actual physical beauty returned. The sunshine stole
+in at the open window and lit up her golden hair,
+which was half hidden by a hat with white plumes.
+She looked down at her hand with its new wedding
+ring, and was pleasantly aware of Robert's admiration.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am so glad,&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;that you think
+my hand is nice. Because I have given it to you for
+all time. And if you are ever tired, or discouraged,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>or unhappy, or lonely, and you want me, I shall come
+to you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you will be with me now always.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; she answered. &#8220;Yes, Robert, always.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They had now reached Almouth House. Her little
+foot, with its arched instep, seemed too slight and delicate
+for the pavement. Robert knew that her arm rested
+upon his, because he felt it trembling. They crossed
+the threshold together. The doors closed after them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And he never once kissed her on the way from
+church!&#8221; exclaimed the footman.</p>
+
+<p>But the coachman did not think this very peculiar.
+&#8220;I don't hold with kissing,&#8221; said he; &#8220;to my mind
+there's nothing in it. Kissing is for boys and gals&mdash;not
+for men and wives.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Baron Zeuill was unable to join them all at
+breakfast, but Pensée, and Reckage, and David
+Rennes (who had been especially invited the night
+before because he had proved so entertaining), did more
+than their duty as friends by talking feverishly, eating
+immoderately, and affecting the conventional joyousness
+universally thought proper at such times. Pensée
+ventured to make a reference to the forthcoming
+marriage of the &#8220;best man,&#8221; and expressed the faltering
+hope that &#8220;dear Agnes would be as happy as dear
+Brigit.&#8221; Reckage scowled. Rennes was seized with
+a fit of coughing. It was the one unlucky hit in the
+whole conversation, and it was soon forgotten by
+every one present except Orange, who remembered it
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>frequently in later days. At last the hour for departure
+came. Pensée, weeping, kissed Brigit on both cheeks,
+looked into her grave eyes long and lovingly, put her
+arms around the slight, girlish form with that exquisite,
+indefinable tenderness, unconscious, unpremeditated,
+and protective, which married women show toward
+very youthful brides. Robert handed his wife into
+the brougham, the order was given &#8220;To Waterloo,&#8221;
+the horses started, rice and slippers were thrown.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They go into the world for the first time,&#8221; exclaimed
+Rennes.</p>
+
+<p>Then Pensée was assisted into the barouche, and
+drove homewards.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We shall meet again,&#8221; she said, as she parted from
+Reckage; &#8220;we meet at Sara's at lunch.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The two men were thus left alone. They decided
+to smoke, for they were both a little affected by the
+pathos of the situation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Explain Robert,&#8221; said his lordship, as they returned
+to the dining-room, &#8220;explain that kind of love.
+You are an artist.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, it isn't my way,&#8221; rejoined the other, with a
+forced laugh, &#8220;but there are many manifestations of
+personal magnetism.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This kind is very interesting,&#8221; said Reckage,
+&#8220;although it is, of course, high-flown. Orange is
+romantic and scrupulous&mdash;he knows next to nothing
+of the sensual life; and that next to nothing is merely
+a source of disgust and remorse. You follow me?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perfectly,&#8221; said Rennes. &#8220;It is a question of
+temperament. The wonder is that he has not entered,
+in some delirium of renunciation, the priesthood.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That would mean, for his gifts, a closed career.
+It beats my wits to guess how this marriage will turn
+out. He is madly in love. He has suffered frightfully.
+Too much moral anguish has a depraving effect in the
+long run.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am not so sure of that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think so, at any rate. Now many a decent sort
+of fellow can get along well enough&mdash;if he has a
+woman to his taste and wine which he considers good.
+You observe I condense the situation as much as
+possible. But Orange is different.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not so different&mdash;except in degree, or experience.
+At present, he oscillates between the woe of love and
+the joy of life. You compared him to St. Augustine.
+St. Augustine never pretended that earthly happiness
+was a delusion. He knew better. He said, &#8216;Do not
+trust it, but seek the happiness which hath no end.&#8217;
+Personally, I can accept with gratitude as much as I
+can get. &#8216;Is not the life of men upon earth all trial,
+without any interval?&#8217; This may be; yet it is something
+to learn how to sympathise with happiness.
+Our best men and women devote themselves too
+exclusively to the diagnosis of misery.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have thought a lot, I can see,&#8221; said Reckage.</p>
+
+<p>The artist gave him a quick, friendly glance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have played the fool,&#8221; said he. &#8220;I envy Orange.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>He will know things that I can never know&mdash;now.
+I haven't lived up to my thoughts. I am not remorseful&mdash;I
+don't believe in remorse. It is a thing for the
+half-hearted. But if I am not sad, I am not especially
+gay. The middle course between sentimentality and
+gallantry seems to me intimately immoral and ridiculous
+into the bargain. So I am an idealist with
+senses. There are times when I hate life. And why?
+Because life is evil? By no means; but because we
+tell lies about it, and write lies about it, from morning
+till night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You seem a bit depressed,&#8221; said Lord Reckage.
+&#8220;But, by the by, how is the portrait going? My
+brother Hercy, who paints a little, always declared
+that Agnes was unpaintable. Do you find her unpaintable?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; said Rennes; &#8220;oh no!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+
+<p>When Reckage asked Rennes whether he found Miss
+Carillon &#8220;unpaintable,&#8221; the artist was conscious of a
+swift, piercing emotion, which passed, indeed, but left
+an ache. And as the day advanced the smart of the
+wound grew more intense. A visit to the National
+Gallery, a call at his tailor's, an inspection of maps at
+his club, afforded little relief to the indefinable misery.
+He was tortured by the disingenuousness of his own
+mind. He had done so much, and thought so much,
+and read so much; he could give so many scientific
+reasons for each idea and each movement of his mental
+and physical being, that the joy of life had been cut
+up in its machinery. He had lost the power of being
+natural either in his pains or his pleasures. He knew
+all the answers, but not one of the questions which
+trouble youth. He had never wondered at anything.
+Wonder&mdash;the lovely mistress of wisdom&mdash;had taught
+him none of her secrets. Dead certainty had dogged
+his steps from his first appearance on this unknowable
+world. Once, when a very little boy, he admired
+a vase full of pink roses. &#8220;They will keep twice as
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>long,&#8221; said his nurse, &#8220;in dirty water. It is such a
+waste to put fresh water on roses!&#8221; This remark&mdash;slight
+in itself&mdash;remained in his memory as the first
+truth&mdash;the Logos, in fact&mdash;from which all other
+truths generated. He was now nine-and-thirty: he
+had executed an abnormal amount of work, and he
+had a just reputation as a portrait-painter. His
+technical skill was considered unique. The something
+lacking was that mysteriousness which belongs
+to all great art, and is, essentially, in life.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rennes,&#8221; said one of his friends, &#8220;can work for
+sixteen hours a day. It is all taken from without.
+He gives nothing except his undivided attention.&#8221;
+The saying was not true; he gave himself absolutely&mdash;soul,
+brain, and heart&mdash;to his task, but the gift was
+too premeditated, too accurately weighed. There
+was no self-abandonment, nor self-forgetfulness. His
+admiration for Miss Carillon had been of this kind.
+Having added up her attractions, her figure, her face,
+her youth, her intelligence, her grace, he decided that
+she was exceptional in many ways. He found real
+happiness in her society&mdash;she was so sane, so clear, so
+unaffected. His attitude toward her had remained for
+some time one of fraternal affection, partly by force of
+will, chiefly because his relations with other women
+were not so restrained. But the position was changing.
+Certain forces in life were assuming for him a complicated
+and threatening aspect. What if, after all,
+there was an incalculable element in man?</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Now to be practical,&#8221; he said to himself. He had
+not seen his mother for a fortnight. She lived in
+Kensington Square. &#8220;I must really go and see my
+mother!&#8221; The cab drove quickly; the little grey
+house was soon reached. David opened the door
+with his latch-key and rushed upstairs into the small
+drawing-room, furnished in white and green, with
+fresh flowers on the mantelpiece, and many shelves of
+vellum-bound books. A bronze lamp hung from the
+ceiling, and its globe, covered in violet silk, cast a
+light like that of the early dawn in hilly regions. A
+faint odour of lavender filled the air. In one corner
+of the room there was a chess-table with its chessmen
+showing an interrupted game. A velvet footstool,
+much indented by the pressure of a firm foot, stood in
+front of the carved armchair in which Mrs. Rennes
+usually sat. Her work-basket, lined with blue satin
+and shining with steel fittings, stood in its customary
+place on a gipsy stool near the fireplace. A few old
+English prints hung on the walls, and between the
+windows there was a Chippendale cabinet filled with
+Worcester and Crown Derby china. The aspect of
+all things was restful, emotionless, and some of its
+calm seemed to overtake and soothe David's agitated
+spirit. He sat down at the piano and played, with
+much passion, bits from Wagner's &#8220;<i>Tristan</i>,&#8221; the first
+performance of which he had seen at Munich. &#8220;Good
+Heavens!&#8221; he thought. &#8220;What a genius! What a
+soul! What a phrase!&#8221; Suddenly the door opened
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>and Agnes Carillon was ushered in. She hesitated a
+second, and then recognised Rennes, who had his back
+to the light. Her first instinct was to retreat; her
+first feeling was a strange sensation of pleasure and
+fear. His usually cold and wearied face took an
+expression of controlled but unmistakable delight.
+She blushed, though not with resentment, yet she
+avoided, by appearing to have some difficulty with her
+muff, his outstretched hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have called on your mother,&#8221; said she. &#8220;I
+thought you would be on your way to Rome.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her lips were red and rather full: her cheeks were
+pink, her throat and brows were white. Her
+demeanour was, while modest, neither shy nor self-conscious.
+David was struck by her height and the
+extreme slightness of her figure. She wore a large
+Gainsborough hat with long plumes, a black gown,
+and a collar of old <i>point de Venise</i>. She had come up
+from the country, and her presence brought its freshness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why are you in town?&#8221; he asked abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was bored at home.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And the trousseau?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The trousseau?&#8221; she said, lifting her eyes for the
+first time to his.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They say it is unlucky to try on your wedding-dress,&#8221;
+he continued, seeking relief in the very torture
+of reminding himself that the date of her marriage
+with Lord Reckage was fixed.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I never think about luck,&#8221; she answered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I met Reckage at the play last night. I lunched
+with him to-day,&#8221; said Rennes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am so glad that you are friends. I want you to
+like him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No doubt he thinks me mad. Politicians always
+regard artists as madmen.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But Beauclerk is considered very cultured. I
+hate the word. He is interested in art.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No doubt&mdash;as a means of investment, an educational
+influence, or a topic of conversation for light
+moments.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are severe. Yet I like to hear you talk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She hoped that his talk would drown the singing in
+her heart, the whispering in her ears, the footsteps of
+doubt&mdash;doubt of herself, doubt of Reckage, coming
+nearer and nearer. She had been taught everything.
+She had discovered nothing. Love itself had come to her
+in the shape of a cruel code of responsibilities. Lately
+she had been dwelling with an almost feverish emphasis
+on the question of duty. She had wearied Reckage;
+she had exhausted herself by the tenacity of her mind
+toward that dull subject. And the real truth about
+much in life was forcing itself upon her. She was
+essentially a woman of affairs. Her face absorbed the
+poetry of her nature, just as a flower extracts every
+excellence from its surrounding soil, and, shining out
+for the sun, wastes no blossom underground. It had
+been her earliest ambition to marry a Member of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>Parliament and help him&mdash;by her prayers and counsel&mdash;on
+his conscientious career toward Downing Street.
+She had received an austere education, and even her
+native generosity of heart could not soften the indignation
+she had been trained to feel against any neglect
+of duty. Duty was a term which she applied to that
+science of things generally expedient which tradition
+has presented to us in the household proverbs and
+maxims of every nation. Early rising, controlling
+one's temper, paying one's debts, consideration for
+others, working while it is day, taking stitches in time&mdash;all
+these to that orthodox mind were matters of imperative
+obligation, if not Divine command. David's
+impulsive nature and self-indulgent habits filled her
+with overwhelming sorrow and dismay. She could
+not understand the rapid changes of mood, the disordered
+views, the storm and violence which are
+characteristic of every artist whose work is a form of
+autobiography rather than a presentment of impersonal
+forms and effects.</p>
+
+<p>In Rennes there were two principles constantly at
+work: the David who acted, and the David who
+observed, criticised, and reproduced in allegorical guise,
+the inspiring performance. Agnes knew nothing of
+this common phenomenon in creative genius, and
+when her friend refreshed his imagination by appearing
+in a new <i>rôle</i>, she was as terrified as a child before
+some clever trick in experimental chemistry. From
+time to time he expressed opinions which startled her.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>She begged him once to paint a &#8220;religious&#8221; picture.
+He would not. A feeling that she had experienced
+some bitter disappointment weighed upon her spirit.
+Yet when she seemed to give that disappointment a
+cause, she was careful to leave it in obscurity. She
+would not permit herself to think, and, pale with
+suffering, she would check the painful questions
+which rose already answered. Her affection for
+Rennes was one of those serious passions which
+sometimes take root in an unsentimental nature, and
+derive a strength from philosophy which romantic
+considerations, pleasant as they are, can never bestow.
+Romance will add a magical delight to the pleasures
+of existence, but for the burden of the day one needs a
+sobriety of thought which would ring singularly flat
+in a love-lyric, which is certainly opposed to those
+emotions which produce what is commonly regarded
+as interesting behaviour. Agnes had not been drawn to
+Rennes at first sight, but rather by degrees and against
+her better judgment. She had found him unstable and
+affected; on the other hand, she admired his fine figure,
+his talent, his conversation, and the fire in his brilliant
+eyes. She told herself that she was deeply anxious
+about his soul, but, in a crowd, she watched for his
+broad shoulders and his handsome face. Such was her
+friendship, and she had known him for two years.
+Her first season had been a startling success. She had
+the misery of rejecting several suitors of whom her
+father fully approved&mdash;one was an Archdeacon. She
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>had been drawn more than kindly toward a consumptive
+violinist whom she had met at a Saturday entertainment
+for the poor at Kensal Green. Not a single
+word of love ever passed between them. He called
+once or twice at her aunt's house in Chester Square,
+and they had played together some of Corelli's sonatas.
+Her aunt carried her away to Brighton, and no more
+was heard of the young violinist till a rumour reached
+them that he was drinking himself to death at St.
+Moritz. Agnes said many prayers for him. At last
+a second rumour reached her that the first was wholly
+incorrect. He had married a very nice girl with a lot
+of money and was building a villa at Cannes. Agnes
+told herself that she was thankful to hear it. The
+next year she became engaged to a young Member of
+Parliament with really fine prospects. She was not in
+love, but she liked him better than all her friends. She
+felt serene, and at last useful. Then a story reached
+her about another woman, and yet another woman
+before that one. The story was true and not at all
+pretty. The Bishop was obliged to support his
+daughter in her refusal to regard matters in what
+her betrothed described as a sane and reasonable
+manner. He had sinned and he was sorry, and what
+was more, he had every desire to reform. But Agnes
+remained firm, although she had probably never been
+so nearly in love with him as she was on the day when
+she returned all his charming letters and the ring and
+his photograph. It was a trying moment. She was
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>ordered abroad, and she spent the winter at Rome,
+where she read ancient history and visited churches
+and excited a great deal of admiration. Mrs. Rennes
+and David were also at Rome. The three met at
+the house of an irreproachable Marchesa. They
+became friends. Miss Carillon's aunt, who was a
+maiden lady with means, succumbed to the fascinating
+eloquence of an amateur <i>connoisseur</i> of antique gems.
+In her new character of <i>fiancée</i>, she found it inconvenient
+to chaperon a young niece. She joined a
+widowed friend, and gladly assented to the suggestion
+that dear Agnes should visit Mrs. Rennes in Paris.
+The Bishop saw no impediment to the plan. He had
+been at Oxford with the late Archibald Rennes, an
+odd fellow but high-minded. Mrs. Rennes was the
+daughter of a General Hughes-Drummond. Every
+one knew the Hughes-Drummonds. They were
+very good people indeed. The Bishop hoped that
+Agnes would enjoy herself, give her kind friend as
+little trouble as possible, and come home fully restored
+in spirits. He forgot David. It may be that others
+omitted to mention him. The Bishop was not pleased
+when the rumour reached him that this artist was
+included in the party. What were his habits? What
+were his prospects? Were his artistic talents such
+that he might reasonably hope to become a Royal
+Academician and maintain an establishment? What
+<i>class</i> of pictures did he paint? Were they lofty in
+tone? Did they exalt and purify the mind? Would
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>they make good engravings&mdash;such engravings as one
+might hang on one's walls? The correspondence
+and the questions were endless. David spent a week
+end at the Episcopal Palace, and behaved so well that
+he became frightened at his own capabilities for John
+Bullism. He was a little annoyed, too, to find himself
+at ease in a British home circle. The Bishop
+was, at all events, satisfied. Agnes was enchanted,
+and, transfigured by unconscious passion, looked more
+beautiful than ever. David enjoyed the services in
+the cathedral; he liked the quiet Sunday afternoon,
+he was impressed by Dr. Carillon's real earnestness in
+the pulpit. The visit was a great success. Before he
+left, he begged Agnes to write to him &#8220;when she
+could spare the time.&#8221; The young man had tried
+everything except a Platonic friendship with a lovely
+girl. He fancied that he found in Agnes Carillon
+that purity coupled with magnetism which makes
+such experiments attractive. They corresponded
+regularly, but they did not meet again for several
+months. When he returned, a little tired of
+platonism, letter-writing, intellectuality, and longing
+a great deal for the sight of her face, he found her
+engaged to Lord Reckage. So nature revenges itself.
+He detected a certain triumph and also a certain deep
+reproach in her gaze. She insisted that she was more
+than happy, but something under these words seemed
+to murmur&mdash;&#8220;You have spoilt our lives.&#8221; Her
+manner, nevertheless, never altered. She was in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>variably
+sympathetic, gracious, delicately emotional.
+In letters she signed herself, &#8220;Yours affectionately,
+Agnes Carillon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How I should like to paint you in this light!&#8221;
+he said, all at once. &#8220;That is the dress I love best.
+Don't wear it often.&#8221; The remark was slight enough
+as a pretty speech within the bounds of flirtation, but
+the tone in which he uttered it meant more, and the
+girl's womanly instinct told her that the dangerous
+limit in their &#8220;friendship&#8221; had been reached. He saw
+her turn pale. She looked away from him, and
+swallowed thoughts which were far more bitter than
+any words she could have spoken.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You never used to say these things,&#8221; she
+exclaimed at last; &#8220;why do you say them
+now?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thought them&mdash;always,&#8221; he answered. &#8220;But I
+am a Pagan. I tried to keep my Paganism for others,
+and what you would call &#8216;the best in me&#8217; for you.
+You may be able to understand. Anyhow, I made a
+mistake&mdash;a terrible mistake. It was a false position,
+and I couldn't maintain it. Now I don't even want
+to maintain it. Then it was a kind of vanity. I
+mean that time when I was at the Palace. I had been
+reading a lot of beautiful unreal stuff about the soul.
+I thought I had reached a very high place. Of course
+I had&mdash;because nothing is higher or purer than real
+human love. But I wouldn't call it love. So I went
+abroad, and wrote any amount of &#8216;literature&#8217; to you.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>And all the time Reckage was here&mdash;asking you,
+wisely enough, to marry him. And you, wisely
+enough, accepted him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Agnes sat still, with her eyes down, cold, silent,
+forbidding. She did not understand him. She had
+neither the knowledge of life, nor the imagination,
+which could make such understanding possible. But
+she saw in his look that he loved her, that he was
+unhappy. She knew that Reckage had never shown
+so much feeling. Yet had she not given her word to
+Reckage? Was it not irrevocable? Was Rennes
+behaving well in speaking out&mdash;too late? Was it too
+late? A torrent of questions poured into her mind.
+She dragged off her gloves, and spread out her hands,
+which were slim and white, and stared at her sapphire
+engagement ring.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A weak man submits to destiny,&#8221; said Rennes,
+&#8220;a strong one makes his own. It is what we think
+of ourselves which determines our fate. If I regard
+myself as a poor creature, I shall, no doubt, act the
+part of a poor creature. But,&#8221; he added, with an
+ironical smile, &#8220;it is never too late to give up one's
+prejudices. I can't stand by and look on any longer.
+I intend to leave England for some years. I hope we
+may never meet again. Don't answer me, because
+there is nothing for you to say. You have been
+perfectly kind, perfectly charming, perfectly consistent.
+You have never deceived me and you have never
+deceived yourself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She interrupted him:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I hope not. Oh, I hope I have never deceived
+myself&mdash;or you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was grateful for your friendship,&#8221; he said. &#8220;I
+can't be grateful for it now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Agnes drew a long breath and murmured random
+words about the &#8220;time.&#8221; Was it getting late?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied Rennes, &#8220;too late. Did I ever tell
+you why my father, with all his prospects, became a
+drawing-master? He told me that he had suffered
+so much learning why he could never paint, nor
+hope to paint, that he was determined to devote his
+knowledge to the service of apprentices. It seemed
+to him such an awful thing to mistake one's vocation.
+Now I feel that one of us&mdash;perhaps both of us, you
+and I, are doing even a worse thing. We are deliberately
+throwing happiness to the dogs.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't think so,&#8221; said Agnes, in a trembling
+voice. &#8220;There is duty, you know; that is something
+higher than happiness, I believe.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are you so sure?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I envy you. I don't even know what you mean
+by duty. It seems to me another name for the
+tyranny of false sentiment.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don't disturb my ideas,&#8221; she exclaimed, with an
+appealing gesture. &#8220;Don't say these things. They
+make me wretched. I can't afford to doubt and
+question. One must have a few permanent rules of
+conduct.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But if they are fantastic, capricious, insincere?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can't argue. I am not clever. I will not
+change my views. I dare not. It would make me
+hate you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are the slave of convention.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That may be. That is safer, after all, than being
+the slave of some other will stronger than my own.
+Why do you try to disturb my life&mdash;now&mdash;after so
+many really happy months of friendship?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Were they so happy? Agnes, were they happy?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; she said, at last; &#8220;relatively, yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is quite true. Good women drive us to the
+bad ones.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! what can you mean? Surely we are saying
+too much. We shall reproach ourselves later. I live,
+again and again, through one conversation. The
+phrases come into my mind with every possible shade
+of significance.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She pushed back her hat, and pressed her hand to her
+brow, which was contracting nervously as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't wish to be altered by any change in principle,&#8221;
+she continued, &#8220;nor distracted, from my plain
+obligations, into other interests. I daresay I sound
+quite heartless and odd. I daresay you won't like
+me any more.&#8221; Her voice faltered, but her lips
+remained precise. &#8220;But one must know one's mind&mdash;one
+<i>must</i>. You don't know yours; that is the
+whole trouble, David.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She had never called him by his Christian name
+before, and now the forced sternness of her tone gave
+it almost the accent of a farewell.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps we have helped each other,&#8221; she went
+on; &#8220;at all events, you have taught me how to look
+at things. You are clever and original and all that.
+I am rather commonplace, and I never have new or
+surprising thoughts. The more I learn, the more
+I grow attached to the ordinary ways. Once
+you called me the ideal <i>bourgeoise</i>. You were
+right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not entirely,&#8221; said Rennes. &#8220;You think too
+much.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You taught me that. I never used to consider
+people or notions. I accepted them without criticism.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The madness of criticism has entered into you,&#8221;
+he said. &#8220;It is the worst, most destructive thing on
+earth.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How could I have accepted you&mdash;as my friend&mdash;without
+it?&#8221; she asked. &#8220;You puzzled me. I tried
+to understand you. No one had ever puzzled me
+before. No one, you may be quite sure, will ever
+puzzle me, in the same degree, again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She gave him a long, tearful glance, in which
+defiance, reproach, determination, and a certain cruelty
+shone like iron under water. He made a movement
+toward her. The strength of his more emotional
+nature might have made a final assault&mdash;not uselessly&mdash;on
+her assumed &#8220;reasonableness.&#8221; No appeal, no
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>threat could have moved her from the mental attitude
+she had decided on&mdash;the duty of keeping her word to
+Lord Reckage. But she might have been urged
+to the more candid course of ascertaining how far
+his lordship's true happiness was really involved in
+the question. At that moment, however, Mrs.
+Rennes came into the room. She gave a little cry
+of surprise when she saw her son. Then she kissed
+Agnes, and sat down, looking anxiously from one to
+the other with something not unlike grief, not unlike
+jealousy.</p>
+
+<p>Her life and habits of thought were simple,
+but she had been highly educated. She was an
+accomplished linguist, a good musician, a most intelligent
+companion. Things which she could not comprehend
+she would, at least, accept on faith. There had
+never been the shadow of a quarrel between David
+and herself. But she felt, by intuition, that Agnes
+Carillon had, in some way, affected his life, his work,
+his whole nature. She could not blame her, because
+she knew nothing definite about the understanding
+which existed, plainly enough, between her son and
+this young lady. She had a horror, however, of flirtation
+and flirts. It seemed to her that, under all this
+talk and correspondence on art, poetry, scenery, and
+the like, there was a strong under-current of emotion.
+So she smiled upon Agnes with a certain reserve, as
+though she were not quite sure whether she had any
+great reason to feel delighted at her call. At a glance
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>from David, however, her look softened into real
+friendliness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was so surprised to see Mr. Rennes here,&#8221; said
+Agnes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am surprised, too,&#8221; said the older woman.</p>
+
+<p>A restraint fell upon all three. David walked
+about the room, looking for things he did not want,
+and asking questions he did not wish answered,
+although he hoped they would interest his mother.
+But his spirits soon flagged. The conversation became
+trivial and absurd.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where are you staying?&#8221; asked Mrs. Rennes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am with Pensée Fitz Rewes,&#8221; said Agnes; &#8220;she
+has gone in the carriage to do a little shopping. She
+will send it here for me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The carriage was at that instant announced.
+David went down the stairs with Agnes and
+handed her in. He said nothing. Mrs. Rennes
+watched the pair from the window and nodded her
+farewell with much gravity. When David returned
+to her, he found her reading peacefully Trollope's last
+novel. It was for these graces that he loved her most.
+He scribbled letters at her writing-table for the next
+hour. Then he spoke&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am going,&#8221; said he, &#8220;to the East. I need a
+change. I suppose it will mean six months.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But how you will enjoy it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And what will you do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I live from day to day, my dear. I am quite
+contented.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This journey is not a mere caprice. I have been
+contemplating it for some time,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Rennes' hair was white and her long, equine
+countenance, sallow. When her feelings were stirred,
+she showed it only by a cloudy pallor which would
+steal over her face as a kind of veil&mdash;separating her
+from the rest of mortals.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One has to get away from England,&#8221; continued
+Rennes: &#8220;one has to get away from one's self.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And where is your self now?&#8221; she asked, not
+venturing to look at him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;With that girl,&#8221; he answered, suddenly; &#8220;with
+that girl.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you love her?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't know. I suppose I do. Oh! I would
+love her if I could ever be absolutely sincere. But this
+I do know&mdash;I can't see her married to that fellow
+Reckage. So I must go away.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am afraid she is a coquette&mdash;a serious coquette,
+my dear boy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She is nothing of the kind. She is a true woman.
+Don't talk about her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>Sara had spent the morning crying bitterly, in bed.
+Her letter to the Duke of Marshire was on the table
+by her side. From time to time she had taken it up,
+turned it over, shed fresh tears, and reproached herself
+for indecision. She held at bay every thought of
+Robert Orange, and formed the resolve of banishing
+him from her mind for ever. When the time came
+to dress for luncheon, she brightened a little, for the
+prospect of disguising her true feelings in the presence
+of Lord Reckage and Pensée appealed to that genius
+for mischief which animated the whole current of her
+life. <i>To baffle the looker-on</i> seemed not merely a great
+science, but the one game of wits which could never
+lose its interest. She was not insincere. She thought
+that lies, as a rule, were clumsy shifts, and abominable.
+Even in the moments when she was most thoroughly
+conscious of her talent for misleading others, she had
+never brought herself to think well of deception. She
+would have liked to feel that her heart was an open
+book for her friends to read. It would have been
+pleasant, she believed, if all could have known always
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>that she practised a delicate art and played, consummately,
+fine comedy whenever she found spectators.
+But a solitary, mismanaged childhood, and the
+constant sense of being in many ways a foreigner,
+had taught her the penalty of frankness where
+sympathy could not supply, from its own knowledge,
+the unutterable half which makes up every confidence.
+The bitter pleasures of a conscience which
+caresses its worst burden were the only real ones of
+her daily existence. When she could say, at the end
+of the day, &#8220;I have fooled them all: they think I am
+happy, I am not: they think Reckage amuses me,
+he doesn't. They think I delight in these dull dinners
+and balls, I hate them,&#8221; a sort of exultation&mdash;the
+pride of a spirit singing under torture&mdash;would fill her
+whole being. All youth that is strong and thoughtful
+has much of this instinct of dissimulation. The
+world&mdash;to a young mind&mdash;appears controlled by
+elderly, suspicious, hateful custodians ever on the
+alert to capture, or thwart, every high enterprise and
+every passionate desire. There seems a vast conspiracy
+against happiness&mdash;the withered, dreary wiseacres
+in opposition to the joy, the daring, the beauty,
+the reckless vitality of souls still under the spell of
+spring. When poor Sara could escape from town into
+the country, mount her horse, and tear through a
+storm, the neighbours compared her to a witch on
+a broomstick, and, shaking their heads, would foresee
+much sipping of sorrow by the spoonful in the future
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>of Lord Garrow. To-day, however, the young lady
+assumed her most demure expression, and received the
+guests at luncheon as though she had never learnt
+the meaning of tears nor joined the gale in spirit.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Piers Harding was the last to arrive. He was
+a thick-set, livid man with an unyielding smile and
+the yellow eyes of one whom rich diet rather than
+an angry god had rendered melancholy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You haven't changed in the least,&#8221; he said,
+considering Lord Garrow with some resentment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, well!&#8221; replied his lordship, &#8220;eleven years do
+not make much difference at my time of life. You,
+however, are decidedly greyer. Where have you been
+hiding yourself? I think you were foolish to leave
+England. Gladstone was remarking but the other
+day, &#8216;Harding was always so cocksure.&#8217; &#8216;And
+wasn't he right?&#8217; said I. &#8216;Of course,&#8217; said he; &#8216;and
+that was the worst of him. He <i>was</i> right. Who
+could stand it?&#8217; That's the world. It's devilish
+unappreciative of the truth.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Reckage, much bored by the old men, stood by
+Pensée's chair, where he could watch Sara and angle
+for her glance. When it happened that she smiled at
+him a little&mdash;either in mere friendship or mockery&mdash;he
+felt a kind of fire steal through his veins, and he
+told himself that she was a dangerous woman&mdash;a
+woman who could get her own way in the long run.
+That she was a girl&mdash;and, with all her shortcomings,
+a very innocent one&mdash;made her odd powers of fascina<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>tion
+but the more insidious. She wore a dress of
+wine-coloured silk which fitted plainly over her breast
+and shoulders and fell in graceful flounces from the
+waist. The warm, olive lines of her cheek and
+throat appeared the darker in contrast with a twist
+of white lace which she wore round her neck; and
+her black hair, dressed higher than usual, was held
+in place by a large ruby comb which caught the fire-light
+as she moved. Reckage was conscious, for the
+first time in his life, of a real embarrassment. He
+could not talk to her; he felt tongue-tied when she
+addressed him. Ill at ease, yet not unhappy, he
+struggled to maintain some coherence in his conversation;
+but, at each moment, his own ideas grew less
+certain and Sara's voice more enchanting. It seemed
+to convey the lulling powers of an anodyne. When
+he tried to rouse himself, the effort was as painful as
+the attempt to wake from a dream within a dream.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You were at the wedding this morning?&#8221; she
+asked lightly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No.... What a fool I am! Yes, of course.
+You mean Robert's wedding?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She gave a little smile, and murmured, dropping
+her voice, &#8220;I meant Robert's wedding.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Luncheon was then announced: the sliding doors
+which separated the dining-room from Lord Garrow's
+library were rolled back. They all walked in&mdash;Pensée
+and Sara leading the way.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A sweet creature!&#8221; whispered his lordship behind
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>their backs, indicating Lady Fitz Rewes. He sighed
+as he spoke. He could never feel that there was not
+something deplorable in Sara's physical brilliancy.
+Her upper-lip that day had a certain curl which he
+had learnt to regard as a danger-signal. What would
+she do next? As he sat down at the table and
+observed the sweep of her eyelashes toward Reckage,
+a presentiment of trouble clouded the new hopes he
+had formed for her career.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who are your strong men now?&#8221; asked Harding
+suddenly, after a moment's contemplation of Reckage,
+who sat opposite.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Our strong men?&#8221; faltered Lord Garrow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Aren't most of 'em place-hunters and self-seekers?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must meet Robert Orange,&#8221; said Pensée;
+&#8220;Mr. Disraeli believes in Robert Orange.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I never heard of him,&#8221; observed Sir Piers. &#8220;Who
+is he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You may well ask,&#8221; said Lord Garrow. &#8220;He
+claims to be a de Hausée&mdash;on his father's side.
+Reckage can tell you about him. Many have a high
+opinion of the fellow, and say that if he will stick to
+one branch of politics, he may become useful. Personally,
+I don't call him a man of the world.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not of our world, perhaps, papa. But there are
+so many other worlds!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sara likes him. A lot of women like him,&#8221; said
+his lordship. He was annoyed at her interruption
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>and took his revenge by a feminine thrust. &#8220;The
+hero,&#8221; said he, &#8220;married some mysterious person this
+very morning. We may not hear so much about him
+in the future!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dear Lord Garrow,&#8221; said Pensée, &#8220;his wife is
+a friend of mine&mdash;she is the most charming person.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sara put out her hand and touched Reckage on the
+arm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you think,&#8221; she asked, &#8220;that the wife will
+be an obstacle in his way?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who can tell? Of course she has means, and he
+likes to do everything well.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Speaking for myself,&#8221; said Harding, &#8220;I have
+always held that a man's career rests rather on his
+genius than his marriage.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you, my dear fellow,&#8221; put in Lord Garrow,
+testily, &#8220;you retired from political life because your
+theories could find no illustration there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pardon me,&#8221; said Sir Piers, with a grim laugh.
+&#8220;I retired because I had a faultless wife but unfortunately
+no genius. I shall therefore watch your
+friend's triumph or failure&mdash;for his position would
+seem to be precisely the reverse of my own&mdash;with
+peculiar sympathy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah! I fear you are rather heartless,&#8221; exclaimed
+Sara. &#8220;For a man to have gone so far as Orange,
+and to know that perhaps&mdash;I say, perhaps&mdash;he can
+hope no higher because he made a fool of himself
+about a woman!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You speak as though it were a romantic marriage&mdash;a
+question of love.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course,&#8221; said the young lady softly. &#8220;It is a
+great passion.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, after all,&#8221; observed Harding, who was not
+insensible himself to Sara's delightfulness, &#8220;the British
+public is absurdly fond of a love-match. They adore
+a sentimental Prime Minister. They want to see
+him either marrying for love, or jilted in his youth for
+a richer man. These things enlist the popular sympathy.
+What made Henry Fox? His elopement with Lady
+Caroline Lennox.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To be sure,&#8221; said Reckage&mdash;&#8220;to be sure. That's
+a point.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is a compliment to the sex,&#8221; continued Harding,
+&#8220;when a great man is taken captive by a pretty face.
+Men, too, rally round a Lochinvar. Such an evidence
+of heart&mdash;or folly, if you prefer to call it so&mdash;is also
+an evidence of disinterestedness. So, on the whole,
+I cannot follow your objections to the new Mrs.
+Orange.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have been away so long,&#8221; said Garrow fussily,
+&#8220;that you have forgotten our prejudices. Orange
+himself, to begin with, has something mysterious in
+his origin. They say he is French&mdash;related to the
+old French aristocracy; but the less one says in
+England about foreign pedigrees the better. All
+that of itself is against him, and Mrs. Orange, it
+seems, is more or less French, or Austrian, too. We
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>can't help regarding them as foreigners, and I always
+distrust foreigners in politics. Why should they care
+for England? I ask myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, indeed?&#8221; said Harding, with irony.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have I made myself clearer?&#8221; asked Garrow.
+&#8220;I can afford to speak. My own wife was a Russian.
+But I was not in political life, and she was an
+Ambassador's daughter.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You think you would feel more sure of Orange's
+patriotic instinct if he had chosen an Englishwoman?&#8221;
+said Reckage.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am bound to say that he would have shown discretion
+in settling down with one of our simple-hearted
+Saxon girls.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And who was Mrs. Orange before she married
+Orange?&#8221; asked Harding.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A widow&mdash;a Mrs. Parflete,&#8221; said Garrow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Parflete!&#8221; exclaimed Harding. &#8220;Mrs. Parflete!
+But I have met her. She married Wrexham Parflete,
+an extraordinary creature. He lived for years with
+the Archduke Charles of Alberia. People used to say
+that Mrs. Parflete was the Archduke's daughter. I
+ran across Parflete the other day in Sicily.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But he is dead,&#8221; said Pensée, much agitated; &#8220;he
+drowned himself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot help that,&#8221; repeated Sir Piers. &#8220;I met
+him last week, and he beat me at écarté.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then it is not the same man,&#8221; said Reckage, &#8220;quite
+obviously.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wrexham Parflete had a wife; I heard her sing
+at a dinner-party in Madrid. She was living with the
+Countess Des Escas; there was a row and a duel on
+her account. I never forget names or faces.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But this looks serious,&#8221; said Reckage. &#8220;Do you
+quite understand? It's the sort of thing one hardly
+dares to think. That is to say if you mean what I
+mean. The marriage can't be legal.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The two women turned pale and looked away from
+each other.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I mean as much or as little as you like,&#8221; said
+Harding. &#8220;But Parflete was alive last Monday.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But bigamy is so vulgar,&#8221; observed Lord Garrow.
+&#8220;You must be mistaken. It is too dreadful!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dreadful, indeed! And a great piece of folly
+into the bargain. It is selling the bear's skin before
+you have killed the bear.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Fitz Rewes glanced piteously at the three men
+and wrung her hands.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don't you see,&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;don't you see
+that if there is the least doubt of Mr. Parflete's death,
+we ought to go to them. Some one must follow them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is that touch of the absurd about it,&#8221; said
+Reckage, &#8220;which makes it difficult for a friend to
+come forward. To pursue a man on his wedding
+journey&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is no laughing matter,&#8221; put in Lord Garrow;
+&#8220;and if the woman has deceived the poor fellow, it's
+a monstrous crime.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, she hasn't; she couldn't deceive him,&#8221; said
+Pensée. &#8220;I know her intimately.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She was considered very clever&mdash;at Madrid,&#8221; said
+Sir Piers, finely. &#8220;To you she may appear more to
+be pitied than she really is.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don't say such things! I won't hear them. I
+love her very much.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps she is clever enough to appear stupid in
+public.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no!&#8221; Her voice trembled and tears gushed
+from her eyes. &#8220;You will regret these words. This
+news will kill her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Something must be done,&#8221; said Sara. &#8220;Beauclerk,
+you ought to follow them and tell them. Pensée
+is right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This will make a horrid scandal,&#8221; said Lord
+Garrow, who was appalled at the prospect of being
+mixed up in so disagreeable an affair. &#8220;Why not leave
+it alone? It is not our business.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But it is Beauclerk's business, papa. Just put
+yourself in his place. Surely that is not asking too
+much.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We must avoid everything precipitate,&#8221; said
+Reckage; &#8220;we mustn't be over-hasty.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Fitz Rewes wiped her eyes, rose from the
+table, and began to draw on her gloves.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But we must be friends,&#8221; she said; &#8220;if you cannot
+go to them, I will. Do you realise the poor child's
+position? An illegal marriage! She is the most
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>gentle, beautiful person I ever saw, with the best head,
+the purest heart. She professes <i>nothing</i>. I judge her
+by her actions.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you must see,&#8221; said Reckage, &#8220;that I can't
+give Orange all this pain unless I have something more
+definite to go on. Sir Piers tells us that he played
+cards with Wrexham Parflete last week.&#8221; He
+paused.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wait a moment,&#8221; said Harding; &#8220;wait a moment.
+Does any one present know Parflete's handwriting?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do,&#8221; said Pensée. &#8220;I saw his last letter to his
+wife. He wrote it before he committed suicide.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Piers took out his pocket-book, and, from the
+several papers it contained, selected a three-cornered
+note.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By the merest chance,&#8221; said he, &#8220;I have this
+with me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The others unconsciously left their seats and looked
+over his shoulder while he smoothed out the sheet.
+It was dated plainly, &#8220;October 7, 1869,&#8221; and contained
+the acknowledgment of two £10 notes won
+at écarté.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is the hand,&#8221; said Pensée. &#8220;One could not
+mistake it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then this is really very serious,&#8221; said Lord
+Reckage, with twitching lips. &#8220;The whole story has
+had all along something of unreality about it. Robert
+seems fated to a renunciant career&mdash;colourless, self-annihilating.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What will you do?&#8221; murmured Pensée, with an
+imploring gesture. &#8220;What will you do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They leave Southampton at three o'clock,&#8221; said
+Reckage; &#8220;it is now half-past two. The steamer
+goes twice a week only. I can send him a telegram
+and follow them overland&mdash;by way of Calais.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then I must go also,&#8221; said Pensée firmly. &#8220;She
+will need me. I have had a presentiment of trouble
+so long that now I feel &#8216;Here it is come at last.&#8217; I
+cannot be too thankful to God that it isn't worse.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nothing showed under the innavigable depths of
+Sara's eyes. She had moved to the fireplace and stood
+there holding one small foot to the blaze.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are you cold?&#8221; asked her father anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am ice,&#8221; she said, &#8220;ice!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Reckage joined her and said, under his voice, &#8220;You
+think I ought to go, don't you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This question&mdash;given in a half-whisper&mdash;seemed to
+establish a fresh intimacy between them. It was the
+renewal of their old friendship on deeper terms.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, you must go,&#8221; she answered; &#8220;and, Beauclerk,
+write to me and tell me how he bears it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He is accustomed to a repressive discipline on
+these matters. The philosophic mind, you know, is
+never quite in health. Probably, he won't show much
+feeling.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His gaze seemed to burn into her face. It was as
+though she had been walking in an arbour and
+suddenly, through some rift in the boughs, found
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>herself exposed to the scorching sun. She felt
+dominated by a force stronger than her own nature.
+A little afraid, she shrank instinctively away from him,
+and as she dared not look up, she did not see the
+expression of triumph, mingled with other things,
+which, for a moment, lit up Lord Reckage's ordinarily
+inscrutable countenance. Lately, he had been somewhat
+depressed by his encounter with refractory wills.
+His horse, his colleagues on the Bond of Association,
+his future bride, had showed themselves fatiguing,
+perhaps worthless, certainly disheartening and independent
+accessories to his life. Here, at last, was
+some one brilliant, stimulating, by no means self-seeking,
+Quixotic in enthusiasms.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sara,&#8221; he said, obeying an impulse which surprised
+himself, &#8220;do you believe in me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This time she gave him a straight glance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; she answered. &#8220;You might do a great
+deal if you could forget yourself for a few months.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pensée, much troubled and full of thoughts, walked
+over to them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Sara!&#8221; she said, &#8220;isn't it terrible? If you
+could have seen them both this morning&mdash;she looked
+so beautiful, perfectly lovely&mdash;a sight I never can
+forget. And now this blow! What man can teach
+men to understand the will of God?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+
+<p>Robert and Brigit were silent with happiness on their
+way to Southampton. Side by side they watched the
+country through the carriage windows. There had
+been a fog in London when they left, and the sun,
+at intervals, shone out like a live coal among dying
+embers. All was obscured; the foot-passengers and
+passing vehicles seemed black straying shadows in the
+atmosphere. But the express emerged at last from
+the clinging darkness into autumnal fields, some brown
+after the harvest, others studded with hay-ricks. At
+one point in the landscape they noticed a flock of
+sheep drinking at a stream. The boy who guarded
+them waved his cap at the train, and this little signal,
+coming, as it were, from human nature, gave them a
+reassurance of the day's reality. Near Bishopstoke the
+clouds were white and dense, but, rippling in places,
+they disclosed blue stretches of the heaven which, in
+their masses, they concealed. Southampton began
+with small houses. One had a tattered garden, where
+a stone copy of the Medicean Venus stood on a patch
+of squalid turf near a clothes' line and against an ivy-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>grown
+wall. Then the green sands were reached.
+The sea, like liquid granite, sparkled in the distance.
+Rows of dull dwellings, shops, public-houses, and hotels
+came next. The train, with a shriek, rushed into the
+station. It was still too early for lunch, so they walked
+down to the pier, where they saw several yachts and
+pleasure-boats at anchor in the harbour, and the New
+Forest greenly outlined in the distance. These were
+the things which engraved themselves on Brigit's
+mind. The impressibility of youth is retentive for
+outward objects, but the inner mood&mdash;the sensation
+and idea which make the mental state&mdash;lives unconsciously,
+and is recognised only in the long process of
+time. Brigit could have described the scene, but her
+emotions did not seem to her, emotions. Absorbed by
+them, and in them, she neither abandoned herself to
+the hour nor asked herself what the hour held. She
+and the hour were one&mdash;a single note; and the joy
+she felt at being with Robert, leaning on his arm and
+hearing his voice, was so simple that, even if a psychologist
+of the deepest experience had been able to
+probe into the workings of her mind, he would have
+found nothing there to analyse. Hers was a child's
+affection&mdash;the first love of a heart still immature, and
+not yet made suspicious of itself by contact with
+others less innocent. Parflete had been too worldly-wise
+not to guard and value&mdash;at its true price&mdash;a
+disposition so graceful in its very essence. She had a
+knowledge of affairs beyond her years, yet her own
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>instincts, her education, her few friendships, had kept
+her curiously ignorant of evil, of much also that is
+neither good nor evil, but merely human. The sombre
+sentimentality which lurks in most young girls of
+seventeen was not in her character at all, and in its
+stead she possessed the gaiety and carelessness of feeling
+which belongs to imaginative rather than to sensuous
+natures. A boy-like spirit showed itself in all her
+words, movements, moods; her womanhood still
+slept, and thus, while her intelligence made her an
+unusual companion and her beauty presented a constant
+appeal to all that is romantic, it was inevitable
+that melancholy and reserve should enter largely into
+the passionate love which Robert felt for her. He
+told himself that he would not have her different.
+The glance of her eyes, which stirred him strangely
+to the very depths of his being, never varied in its
+sweetness nor its calm. When her lightest touch
+could sway his body and spirit, she, unconscious of
+her power, would press his hand against her cheek and
+talk about the geraniums in the convent garden or the
+chances of the Carlist war. It was all wonderful. It
+had seemed perfect. And yet&mdash;and yet. She was
+not cold, but was she unearthly? Was she, perhaps,
+some straying angel&mdash;some fervid, bright spirit, flame-coloured
+and intangible, a being of the elfin race?
+As they stood together looking at the distant coastline
+a depression which he could neither fathom nor
+control came over him. His bride seemed so much
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>younger than he had ever realised. She cared for him&mdash;how
+could he doubt it? But was the indefinable,
+indispensable feeling absent?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you remember our journey from Catesby?&#8221;
+she asked suddenly. &#8220;I slept. Wasn't I dull? Did
+you mind?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>No one could see them. He stooped and kissed
+her fragrant, animated face. &#8220;I wish,&#8221; said he, &#8220;I
+wish that you were not quite such a child.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The feeling of solitariness weighed upon his soul
+with a crushing weight unknown until that day&mdash;the
+day of days, his wedding day. Heretofore he had
+craved for solitude because it had been full of her
+imagined companionship. Now that she actually
+lived and talked by his side, the fancied image of her
+paled, vanished. The real creature was adorable, but,
+for some reason, maddening, and not, at all events,
+the being of his fancy. Their old relations&mdash;ethereal
+and exquisite, no doubt&mdash;now seemed an empty
+mockery, self-deluding foolishness. He coloured at
+the remembrance of all that Disraeli had hinted, and
+Reckage had brutally declared, on the large topic of
+idealism in passion. A man, in spite of all determinations
+to be uncomplaining, knows the How much and
+How little that he may demand, merely as a man, from
+any given advantage or disadvantage in existence.
+Robert, hating himself, condemning himself, was conscious,
+in spite of himself, that Brigit's affection for
+him was not love in the full human sense of the word.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>He had exchanged an ordinary self-restraint for an
+impossibly false position. She could inspire his life,
+but could she enter into it, be it, live it with him
+daily? Would there not have to be great reservations,
+half statements, and, worst of all, a subtle kind of
+hypocrisy? He reproached himself for selfishness, yet
+the fear came and it remained. He had captured the
+rainbow and married the goddess. Were there not
+many legends illustrating this folly?&mdash;stories of men
+who had married divinities and perished, not because
+the divinities were at fault, but because mortals must
+wed with mortals. The sight of his wife's beauty
+caused a sudden, violent irritation. He wished she
+had none, for then, perhaps, he thought he would have
+been satisfied, more than content, in the placid consideration
+of her charms of character. He found
+himself reduced to the absurd predicament of deciding
+to banish her from his thoughts&mdash;a last sophism which
+showed him, all too clearly, how wretched he was.
+Their silence, which had been due in the first instance
+to the sufficient delight of being in each other's company,
+became that long pause which arises from an
+unutterable embarrassment. Brigit felt by instinct
+some change in Robert's mood, but as she could not
+account for it then, her sympathy failed. The keen
+salt air filled her with its own free buoyancy; her
+delicate skin flushed in the wind; she forgot the
+nervous strain of the morning, the awfulness of the
+grey chapel, the new state of things, griefs that were
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>past, responsibilities that were to come. She turned
+to Orange as a child would turn to its inseparable
+comrade, and clapped her hands with amusement at
+an organ-grinder with a monkey and a dog whom
+she noticed sitting at the end of the pier, waiting,
+apparently, for one of the excursion steamers bound
+for the Isle of Wight.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pennies for the monkey, Robert,&#8221; she cried; &#8220;a
+lot of pennies! And then we must have our lunch.
+May I have some chicken and one of those very droll,
+very stupid, English rice puddings? Please let me
+have one.... And may I kiss the dog? It is a
+nice little dog&mdash;quite as nice as Pensée's Fidelio.
+Now I am going to talk to the monkey.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She ran toward the little animal, who was shivering,
+pathetic and grotesque, in a military cap and red
+petticoat trimmed with yellow braid. The dog, which
+was a young pug with excellent points, gave Brigit,
+after many entreaties, his paw. She addressed the
+monkey in Italian, and laughed till she cried at its
+absurdities. Robert looked on, consumed by a sensation
+which he recognised, with much shame, as jealousy.
+He thought the pug dull and the monkey revolting.
+Yet she kissed one, and showered heavenly smiles on
+both.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I did not know that you were so fond of animals,&#8221;
+he said, as they walked to the hotel for lunch.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am not,&#8221; she answered frankly, &#8220;as a rule.
+But when I am with you I feel so happy that I want
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>to kiss everything&mdash;the ground, and the trees, and
+chairs, and poodle dogs, and the whole world!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then why not&mdash;me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him, blushed a little, and waited some
+moments before she replied.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; she said at last. &#8220;It must be
+because I am not in the habit of doing so. I am not
+accustomed to you yet. I keep thinking &#8216;I shall wake
+up in a minute and he will be miles away.&#8217; Can't
+you understand? So I am pretending to myself all
+the time that you are not really here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, dearest, you don't quite understand; and you
+are a little disappointed in me because I seem&mdash;I must
+seem&mdash;rather flippant. I daren't be serious&mdash;I daren't.
+I daren't believe that I am your wife.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But why not?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head, and her whole face became
+clouded by the old, terrible, unnatural sadness which
+he knew so much better than her laughter.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am not used to joy,&#8221; she said. &#8220;Perhaps, if we
+ever get to Heaven, our first impulse will be to run
+back again to Purgatory, where we are more at home!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have too much wit, darling, to be happy
+anywhere!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No! no! I don't ask to be conventionally happy,
+but I want you always. That is all ... you, always,
+on any terms&mdash;on a rag-heap, in a storm, with jackals
+howling at us!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What a picture!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My idea of unalloyed bliss, or, at least, the only
+one I have ever permitted myself. I can even believe
+that might be realised.&#8221; A smile hovered again about
+her lips, but she looked steadily ahead, as though she
+were still resolved not to reassure herself, by any too-frequent
+glances, of his much-loved presence.</p>
+
+<p>The peculiar tenderness of her voice was in itself a
+charm against ill-humour. A rush of bitter self-reproach
+told Robert that his dissatisfaction had been
+the inevitable result of too many blessings on a base
+nature. He tried to speak; he watched instead, with
+a desperate, eager gaze, the play of her expressive
+features.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wonder,&#8221; she said, &#8220;what our life is to be?
+Not that I wish to pry into the future, but, for some
+reason, I can never feel settled. Every morning is a
+surprise. I think, too, about your character ... your
+career. Have I helped you, or have I been
+a hindrance? I am perverse, capricious&mdash;not an
+angel. No human influence can help me very much.
+I must depend on the discipline of God. Oh, if I
+could know all that He wants me to do!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Most of us have that desire, Brigit. At least it
+is better to be damned, in the world's opinion, trying
+to do the will of God than saved&mdash;doing nothing!
+One has to take a good many chances&mdash;even the
+chance of displeasing Him&mdash;if it comes to a crisis.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Many people would call that reckless.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let them call it anything,&#8221; said the young man;
+&#8220;names do not matter. The ghastly, unspeakable
+dread is to be timorous, halting, the creature of
+indecision.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We are too much alike,&#8221; she sighed. &#8220;Oh,
+Robert, if we did not suffer horribly within ourselves
+when we do wrong, I believe we should both defy
+every law in the world! I am a born rebel.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>More than a note of her mother's insolence was
+in the speech, but the whole spirit of the dead actress
+seemed to possess Brigit for that moment. Her being
+rippled, as it were, with the new disturbance, just as
+a pond will tremble to its edges at the mere dip of
+a swallow's wing. The artistic hatred of all restraint
+and the wild desire of liberty were the imperious
+passions of her heart&mdash;more vehement than any other
+feeling&mdash;even her love for Orange.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I could fight,&#8221; she said, &#8220;a visible devil, but this
+struggle with moods and tastes is deadening.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What are the moods and tastes?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot describe them well. But music calls
+me; I hear it trilling, and sobbing, and whispering
+everywhere; and sometimes it is so loud and so
+beautiful that I wonder why every one else doesn't
+stop to listen. They never do. So I sing back my
+answer. It is silent singing. You would only
+wonder why I was so quiet all at once.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I have heard you sing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not with my real voice, Robert. It is stronger
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>than it used to be.&#8221; She checked herself and hesitated,
+stopped by a sudden scruple&mdash;a sort of delicacy. She
+thought nothing at all of her beauty and never of her
+fortune; but in giving Robert her voice, and the
+nameless ambitions which enveloped it, she was
+conscious that she had made, in some way, a
+renunciation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say what you were going to say, dearest?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot forget,&#8221; she exclaimed desperately, &#8220;that
+mama was an actress. And I remember some of the
+nights at the theatre.... I liked the theatre....
+I believe I could act.... I have learned the whole
+of <i>Phédre</i> and the whole of <i>Juliet</i>. That is why I live.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This avowal of her secret over-ruling instinct set
+free the sanguine strength which circumstances had
+imprisoned, but could not destroy, in her character.
+The constant effort of hiding from all observation the
+irrepressible yearnings of a talent that would not be
+denied, had given her that quality of mysteriousness,
+of dreamy habits of thought, of languor, which, even
+to Robert, had looked as though she might find this
+earth too rough to live on. But the despair which
+comes from fighting, unsuccessfully, the world, is not
+that appearance of weakness which is the result of
+fighting&mdash;more or less effectively&mdash;one's own energy.
+In this latter issue the beaten foe joins forces obediently
+enough with the conqueror, till at last the opposing
+elements are directed, whether for good or evil, by one
+will.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;So you want to go on the stage,&#8221; said Orange
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>She turned to him and saw, with anguish, the deep
+amazement his words had not expressed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; she said, &#8220;no. I have you instead. I
+want to devote myself to you&mdash;to exist for you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, don't you see, my dear child, that this is a
+kind of&mdash;of pity&mdash;of anything you like, except the
+one thing&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I adore you, Robert. Oh, I can't get at what
+I want to say! Any talk about love always sounds
+very stilted or hollow. I only know that I want to
+live intensely in all that concerns you; that just to
+think of you makes me perfectly happy. When I
+said that learning <i>Phédre</i> and <i>Juliet</i> was the reason
+I lived, I was thinking of the time when I had no
+right to think of you. Of course I loved you always,
+from the beginning. It began at Chambord when
+I first met you. I very seldom say these things, and
+it is better that they should remain unsaid for the most
+part. But you must never doubt me, and I feel to-day,
+in spite of all we know about each other and all
+we have suffered, that you are doubting me now.
+You fear I don't know my own mind. Isn't this the
+trouble?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The intuition which comes to men and women
+through suffering has always the certain sharpness of
+a surgeon's knife. It may be a reassurance to have
+the inmost thought plucked at by some loving spirit,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>and yet it is seldom that the touch can be given
+without inflicting agony. Orange could not reply
+at once. In his resolve to be unselfish&mdash;to put aside
+that personal equation which was nothing less than
+his whole nature&mdash;he had to steel his heart to her,
+contradicting painfully, by curt, unfelt phrases, the
+promptings of a soul turned in upon itself, desolate
+and confused.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have been selfish and thoughtless,&#8221; he said
+abruptly; &#8220;a missed vocation is irreplaceable and it
+is also indestructible. You hear the echo of the call
+as long as you live&mdash;perhaps afterwards. At your age
+you could feel, but you could not wholly understand
+your talents. If you had told me all this before&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>She laughed with real joyousness and clung more
+closely to his arm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I didn't tell you,&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;because you
+would have said just what you are saying now. You
+are the one. All the rest is a means of forgetting
+you. It is something resembling happiness to be
+alone in the turmoil of the world with one unspoilt
+illusion. This illusion in my case is a little idea that
+I could be a great actress&mdash;perhaps! Don't look
+grave, Robert. It makes you sad when I talk this
+way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Those who can be disillusioned have no convictions.
+Disillusion is the failure of a half-belief. I
+learnt that long ago. But I hate the very word
+in your mouth. Woe to us both if we cannot be
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>resolute now. I could have waited&mdash;had I seen any
+reason to wait. Time could make no difference in
+my love. As it is, I have stolen you from yourself.
+But now I have stolen you I will keep you. I cannot&mdash;cannot
+give you back again to anything or anybody.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He spoke with that almost mocking tenderness
+which dissembles its passion. At the practical difficulty
+which now confronted him, all that was merely
+romantic and speculative in his soul took flight, as
+birds that are frightened from a quiet orchard by the
+yelp of dogs. He became aware that he was bitterly
+independent of the joys he had once found in the mere
+spectacle of the exterior world&mdash;the play of light and
+shade, the changing visions of the sky, the charm of
+the earth. His own thoughts were now the sole
+realities, and the dulness which suddenly came over
+his vision for outward things seemed to render it the
+more acute and concentrated for the things of the
+mind. As distant hills and tree tops show most
+distinctly before a storm, so every possibility which
+can arise from a conflict of duties stood out with a
+decisive clearness for his consideration. He had
+married in haste a child-bride. There was no
+blinking the fact. She had the strenuous religious
+fibre, and with it real Bohemian blood. She was
+also at the yielding age, when a dominant influence
+could do much to divert or modify
+every natural trait. He could not doubt that he
+had this power over her then. How far, and to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>what purpose, should he exert it? For himself he
+wished to discourage any hankering on her part for
+public life, and, most of all, public life behind the
+footlights, under an artificial sky. No one knew
+better than he that there are certain things of love,
+of nobility, of temperament, of pride, in certain lives
+which the world at large would rather calumniate
+than comprehend. People in general clung to their
+opinions not because they were true, but because they
+were their own, and among pretty general opinions&mdash;particularly
+in the year 1869&mdash;there was a strong
+prejudice against handsome young women who went
+on the stage. It was not in him to consider&mdash;even as
+an egoistic reflection to be put aside&mdash;how far Brigit's
+project, carried into action, could effect his own
+political career. His apprehensions were all for her
+and her own content.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Promise me,&#8221; he said, &#8220;that you will always tell
+me when the acting mood comes over you. Never
+fight it, never try to resist it, give it the liberty to
+die, but also the right to live. There is an old Hindoo
+proverb: &#8216;Find the flower which can bloom in the
+silence that follows&mdash;not that which precedes&mdash;the
+storm.&#8217; This applies perfectly to a talent or a vocation.
+If the mood is there, in spite of fatigue, or discouragement,
+or other claims&mdash;happiness for that matter&mdash;you
+may depend that it is the ruling motive of your life
+and not to be vanquished. You must follow the bent
+or you will suffer&mdash;suffer till you die of it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How? in what way?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Either in your vanity or your conscience; either
+by the world's judgment on your conduct or by your
+own estimate of your conduct. You have no vanity,
+so the world doesn't count. But you have a conscience,
+and that counts for all!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He had not calculated, and he could not have foreseen,
+the effect of his words. Her eyes filled with
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My dearest,&#8221; she said, &#8220;don't you see how trivial
+everything is to me in comparison with you? But
+I dare not love you so much as I can! So I encourage
+other enthusiasms&mdash;out of fear. Sometimes it seems
+as though the extraordinary, impossible ideal would be
+to have you with me for ever, and be an actress as
+well. But that is out of the question. And if I had
+my choice&mdash;if I could be as great as Rachel or Mrs.
+Siddons, or live with you on my dear rag-heap, with
+the jackals howling&mdash;do you think that I would hesitate,
+that I could hesitate?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If I believed you I should be a dreadful coxcomb!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Risk the coxcomb,&#8221; she said. &#8220;I can!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A clanging bell and the noise of traffic on the quay
+recalled them to the moment. They had barely time
+to reach the steamer and get on board. A strong,
+cold breeze was blowing; the sun shone full on the
+sea, which, near the horizon, was as green as the sky
+on a summer evening. But clouds were gathering in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>the north-west, and the peculiar brightness which
+presages rain lent a fugitive brilliancy to the atmosphere.
+The town and its spires glittered; the water,
+frothing round the paddle-wheels, sent its shining
+spray upon the brown boards of the wharf. Brigit
+kissed her hands toward France.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Soon,&#8221; she exclaimed, &#8220;soon I can kiss its ground.
+How I love my country and the place where you
+lived, Robert, as a boy!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+
+<p>Lady Fitz Rewes had determined to prevent the
+marriage of Lord Reckage with Agnes Carillon. She
+could not forget the dreadful scene with Sara when that
+poor girl was endeavouring to reconcile herself to the
+Duke of Marshire's proposal. Pensée had studied
+each person concerned in the possible tragedy. She
+saw that Agnes was by no means serene, that the
+portrait by Rennes somehow made no progress, that
+Reckage was feverish and excitable. His bearing toward
+Sara during the lunch confirmed Pensée's suspicion
+that the love which had existed between them as boy
+and girl was still unextinguished on either side. He
+would have been less than mortal, she thought, if he
+had not felt, with all the bitterness of a conscious
+fool, that he had missed his true destiny. Sara
+possessed the warmth and wealth of heart which were
+the complements his own bleak nature required. Agnes
+Carillon, with her accurate, invariable beauty, had a
+prim disposition, wholesome enough for a man of
+strange, dark humours like David Rennes, but perilous
+always in its effect on any frigid or calculating mind.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>And Reckage was known to be supremely selfish. It
+seemed to Pensée that Sara had behaved very naturally,
+very touchingly, through the trying conversation on
+the subject of rising men and their marriages. Her
+demeanour had been unsurpassable. But it was not
+in nature that a woman who understood a man could
+look on, inactive and indifferent, while he fettered
+himself with some damaging influence. Perhaps her
+ladyship felt the situation the more keenly, because,
+much as she loved Mrs. Parflete, she could not bring
+herself to think that she was the wife for Robert. She
+had spent many weeks refusing admittance to this
+thought, yet prudence was prudence, and, by virtue of
+its stability, it prevailed. The union, even viewed in
+the most favourable light, had always seemed imprudent.
+It was too hurried. Shocking, mortifying as the
+possibility of its being illegal was, Pensée's conviction
+that Almighty God ordered all things for the best
+seemed less a faith and more a matter of pure reason
+than was usual in the ordinary run of hard cases which
+made demands upon her piety. &#8220;Two diamonds do
+not easily form cup and socket,&#8221; was an old saying in
+her home circle. The more she had seen of Brigit
+Parflete the more she had been struck with her&mdash;struck
+with her moodiness, struck with her contempt
+for received opinions, her vigour and independence of
+will. Was she the wife to further the advance of a
+man of extraordinary ability, already much handicapped
+on the world's course by a proud spirit, a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>reckless, impetuous disdain of creatures generally
+considered the pink of human excellence? He was
+passionately in love, and the strength of this sentiment
+carried, for the time, every thought of his being along
+with it. But love was not unalterable. The change
+would surely come. The fever and folly, the exaltation
+and ardours would fade into a sacred affection&mdash;an
+instinctive tenderness; yet other interests, as vital, and
+in their season more absorbing, would flock into his
+life. What then?</p>
+
+<p>Pensée and Reckage did not exchange many words
+till they found themselves alone, face to face, in the
+railway carriage bound for Dover. Then they looked
+with wonder at each other, stupefied at the errand on
+which they were bound, and the strangeness of the
+whole proceeding. Reckage noticed that his companion
+was attired so correctly and with such discretion
+that no one could have told she was a pretty woman.
+Her veil was not unusually thick, yet it disguised
+every charm of expression and feature. He had
+bought her a novel, some papers, and a few
+magazines; she turned these over listlessly, and
+murmured, as the train sped along&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course, I had to come. No one will say a
+word when the circumstances are known. I hope
+poor Renshaw is comfortable in the next carriage.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Reckage replied&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have behaved like an angel!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He probably but half understood Pensée's character:
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>he underrated her intellect, and he misconstrued
+her friendship for Orange into a weak infatuation.
+Agnes Carillon shared his view on this point, for, as
+he and his future bride could never be confidential with
+each other, they managed an appearance of intimacy
+by discussing with great freedom the private affairs of
+their friends. Agnes, in the fervour of godliness, had
+even seen much that was reprehensible in Lady Fitz
+Rewes's devotion to a man who had no idea of
+marrying her. She had declared that she could not
+understand it&mdash;an attitude pleasing to her fancy and
+gratifying to her pride. Reckage had thought it was
+not quite clear that the danger was immediate. Such
+was his feeling now toward Pensée, although he was
+conscious of a certain curiosity with regard to her
+motive in taking Brigit's part with such magnificent
+self-effacement. This seemed to him unnatural; and
+although she had impressed him with the highest
+opinion of her kindness, he could not believe that a
+woman of genuinely tender sensibilities could have
+approached such an altruistic height. She was an
+excellent creature&mdash;as creatures went, he thought, but
+hard in a feeble way. Then he closed his eyes and
+called up the elusive image of Sara de Treverell&mdash;very
+dark, very handsome, with her superb black hair
+reaching to her knees&mdash;as he had often seen it when
+she was a little girl&mdash;her blue eyes shining with a
+strange light, her lips smiling, her white arms held
+out....</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Sara may not be a happy girl,&#8221; said Pensée
+suddenly, &#8220;but she is a clever one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Reckage started from his reverie.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How odd!&#8221; he exclaimed, surprised into candour.
+&#8220;I was thinking of her at that very moment.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pensée had read as much on his face, but she did
+not tell him so.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I feel for her very much,&#8221; she observed instead.
+&#8220;She must be the greatest possible comfort to her father,
+although he may not realise it. Yet he is forcing on
+the engagement to Marshire. She keeps up in the
+most courageous way, but she has ideals, and no persuasion
+will induce her to change them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He turned red, and said, looking out of the
+window&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ideals do no harm when, for some reason or
+other, we are unable to carry them out.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot imagine what she will do, or how she
+will bear her life if things continue as they are.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What things?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She is like a slave to Lord Garrow. She is with
+him constantly, reading to him, and doing everything
+for him. She will be a cruel loss to his home when
+she marries.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I rather revel at the thought of the dismay which
+will attend her final capture of Marshire.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I used to hope that you perhaps&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>He glanced up and smiled with an air of satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't like the appearance of measuring myself
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>against Marshire.... But&mdash;but he certainly seems,
+in character, the culminating point of mediocrity! In
+fact, Mr. Disraeli, whom I seldom quote, so described
+him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What a husband for that brilliant, affectionate
+girl! She likes all that is simple and grand. A real
+love&mdash;if it were a happy one&mdash;would make her even
+more charming, and if it caused her suffering, it would
+make her even more noble. But failing this, there
+will be a frightful void in her life.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Reckage, whose imagination began to play round
+this thought, replied with unusual seriousness&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I should be horribly grieved to see any declension
+from her better nature. I think I am getting to
+think less of mere social power. I feel more than I
+used to do that, if one could literally <i>live</i> one's theories
+on moral strength, it would be a complete refutation
+of these ideas about the influence of money or a big
+accidental position. Old Harding was right when he
+said at luncheon to-day that disinterestedness counted
+very highly in the popular vote. The point about
+Henry Fox's elopement with Caroline Lennox was
+sound.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It would not have been sound,&#8221; said Pensée, &#8220;if
+Caroline Lennox had been a third-rate woman. A
+man can be desperate so long as his choice, on the
+whole, justifies, either by her beauty, or her talents, or
+something uncommon, an extreme measure. Now,
+Robert may not have made a wise choice, but it is
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>certainly a distinguished one. It can be understood
+and it commands respect.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes, his is a thorough-going emotion, and one
+couldn't find a fault with its object. A strong man is
+always a man who feels strongly <i>and</i> who can carry
+his feeling into action. Robert, with all his mysticism,
+is never subject to the deep depressions of spirit
+which usually afflict men of his gifts. He does not
+know what it is to be languid; or to have invincible
+indecisions. He will die game&mdash;even if he does
+know German metaphysic backwards!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She was astonished.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How well you understand him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He leant forward a little and adopted a more
+confidential tone&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sara spoke of him at lunch. Her judgment of
+men and affairs&mdash;for so young a woman&mdash;is nothing
+short of amazing. I attribute it to the Asiatic streak
+on her mother's side. It is a kind of second-sight.
+What a wife for a Prime Minister! And Marshire,
+a fellow of middling ability and no experience, has had
+the sense to perceive her qualities!... My feelings
+can't be easily defined, nor, indeed, is it necessary they
+should.... I have gone so far that I cannot see
+anything for it but to go on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You mean&mdash;in your own marriage?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He sighed profoundly, remained for several minutes
+silent, and finally roused himself with a painful
+effort.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;There are some griefs which can defy any consolation
+save that of time. Time ultimately cures
+everything. It is a matter of history that I was once
+very much attached to Sara.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; murmured Pensée. &#8220;I know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He covered his eyes with one hand and looked
+through his fingers at her face, asking himself by what
+transition he could best arrive at a frank exposition of
+his embarrassed sentiments. It seemed to him that
+she was intelligent as well as trustworthy, and he felt
+impelled to call in her assistance, being sure that, in
+any cause where love could be pleaded, she would
+show a judicious leniency.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you have not observed that I am still&mdash;too
+interested, you have not observed with your usual
+sagacity,&#8221; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think&mdash;if I may say so&mdash;that time seems only
+to deepen a sorrow of that kind.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Particularly when it is associated&mdash;as in this case&mdash;with
+a certain self-reproach. In times of trial my
+pen is my refuge. I could not write for a year after I
+had decided&mdash;irrevocably as I believed&mdash;that Sara and
+I could not make each other happy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then you never actually proposed to her? There
+was never any tacit understanding?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never. And if there be any part of my conduct
+in life upon which I can look with entire satisfaction,
+it is my behaviour with regard to Sara. I did not
+mislead her in any way. I was even over-scrupulous,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>and purposely avoided opportunities of meeting. I
+say this in order that you may know how very
+determined a man's will must be&mdash;if he does not
+wish to be selfish. A course of struggling is miserable
+indeed. I spared her any knowledge of my
+misery.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She might have been happier had she known of
+it! Last year she remained entirely alone; and
+solitude is full of bad things&mdash;it is very dangerous,
+however much one is accustomed to it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Poor girl! But I could not, in honour, suffer a
+false impression to be formed. As a matter of fact,
+my family wouldn't hear of the match. There is
+no denying that they were set on my marrying Agnes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At last he had been able to mention her. He leant
+back and relied on his companion's tact to elaborate
+the theme.</p>
+
+<p>Pensée murmured&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dear Agnes! If there are storms, they won't
+come from her side. She is of a very elevated
+spirit&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>He winced, but she continued&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Generous, sternly honest, greatly esteemed by
+every one. Neither pique nor passion nor petty
+feelings could ever influence her mind. She is the
+most angelic, good woman I ever met&mdash;she is one to
+whom one may complain, and be a bore. She has
+such utter patience!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You would not be impressed by professions, nor
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>am I very clever at making them,&#8221; said he, &#8220;but you
+know, by sympathy, that my affection for her is&mdash;is
+the heroic feeling of devotion which has also a kind
+of exclusiveness&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>He could not finish the sentence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It leads you to imagine that you could never
+survive her loss,&#8221; said Pensée gravely. &#8220;But need
+you lose her&mdash;as a friend?&#8221; Something in his countenance
+encouraged her to pursue this train of thought.
+&#8220;Agnes has the deepest admiration for your qualities.
+No doubt, you truly realise the high standard of
+character which she would hope for in one to whom
+she gave her love. You have proved yourself worthy
+to call out her best feelings.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Reckage was very touched by this tribute.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And <i>her</i> best feelings,&#8221; said he, &#8220;ought to make
+us&mdash;at our best&mdash;very humble.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pensée lifted her veil just above her eyes, clasped
+her hands tightly together, and kept her earnest
+glance full upon his.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I believe,&#8221; she continued, &#8220;that if it were in
+man, or woman, to command the heart, you would
+have her entire affection. I believe she is unhappy.
+During the last week she has had many ups and
+downs. She has passed with astonishing rapidity
+from the lowest despair to the height of joy. She
+has tried to distract her mind by incessant occupation.
+But you know her manner&mdash;it is transparent near the
+surface, difficult to sound in its depths.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, she has a childlike openness&mdash;up to a certain
+point.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can only tell you, therefore, what I think,
+judging as a woman, by outward signs. I seem to
+detect a sort of self-doubt&mdash;as though she feared
+making some error. She has become of late strangely
+intense and vivid&mdash;she is fascinated by books, and
+drawn to music, as she never was before. Perhaps
+she sees that you give her a priceless, beautiful
+friendship which must indeed be flattering. Yet&mdash;yet
+in marriage friendship is not enough. So she is
+acquiring a stock of interests which are impersonal.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Loyalty to Agnes forbade any reference to David
+Rennes. She had no intention of giving the least
+hint of her own private conviction on the subject.
+She desired merely that Reckage should learn how the
+engagement might be broken off without giving
+unimaginable grief to the young lady. The move
+under this aspect was skilful and successful. Reckage
+received her words as a subtle appeal to his honour
+and kindness.</p>
+
+<p>He said at once&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am glad you have told me this. I could bear
+my own mistakes. I could not bear hers. Let me
+look at the step which I have taken! The choice is
+for life. Agnes is inflexibly conscientious and self-denying.
+Several years of attachment have tried us
+both. She knows my faults; I know where her&#8221;&mdash;he
+paused for a moment&mdash;&#8220;her qualities might
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>clash with mine. We spoke of this together; we
+considered every circumstance that could, by any
+remote chance, weigh against our common happiness.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pensée shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course, that was right,&#8221; she said doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is no easy matter to get a promise from Agnes,&#8221;
+he went on; &#8220;but when once given it is inviolate.
+This throws a grisly responsibility upon me. I must
+risk everything, if I am to do anything. You have
+expressed a dread which I have been endeavouring to
+stifle. I am making her wretched.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't say that <i>you</i> are making her wretched; I
+say she seems disturbed and unsettled when she ought
+to be full of the brightest hopes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Quite so. I fear the unsettlement is exceedingly
+great. A neutrality on your part is all I could in
+reason expect; but your counsel in such a grave
+matter&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>Pensée summoned all her energy, and breathed a
+little prayer for the well-being of the two women
+whose lives were at stake.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I saw Agnes this morning,&#8221; she said, speaking at
+a rapid pace; &#8220;she came up for some shopping, and
+she returned home directly after tea.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She ought to have told me that she was in town,&#8221;
+he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My dear Beauclerk, you know her sweetness!
+She said, &#8216;I don't wish to take up his time; an en<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>gagement
+ought not to be a servitude.&#8217; That is the
+reason why she did not tell you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She ought to have told me,&#8221; he repeated. &#8220;Such
+extreme delicacy was most uncalled for. It wasn't
+even friendly. When we were old friends, and
+nothing more, she would have told me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, when you were friends.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think she gave me a nasty rap in so acting; I
+do, indeed. One would infer that I had failed in some
+ordinary attentiveness. It is a distinct reprimand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are quite wrong. She meant it in the
+noblest way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then it is a desperately near thing between noble
+conduct and a downright snub. I can't help lashing
+out about it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In Pensée's own private perception this outburst of
+temper was no bad sign. It convinced her, at least, of
+the sincerity of his feelings towards Agnes and his
+genuine desire to behave well at every point in their
+relationship.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don't you understand,&#8221; she said, &#8220;that Agnes
+<i>dares</i> not love you. This being the case, I cannot
+see that she could go on in what might be called a
+natural way. Will you bear with me, and, if I am
+indiscreet, forgive me? She wants all the sympathy
+and support she can get. She is suffering very much
+from want of courage. She trusts, perhaps, in her
+friends' prayers. It seems as though something very
+momentous were going on, but that she has nothing
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>to do but to wait for it. I think there may be a way
+out still; God may overrule people's hearts.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She had never intended to say so much, and she
+trembled with an excitement which she could not
+subdue.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I must admit,&#8221; said Reckage, &#8220;that for some
+time I have had a conviction, weaker or stronger, but,
+on the whole, constantly growing, that Agnes and I
+are unsuited to each other. I am too much accustomed
+to this idea to feel pain at it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;O, it makes my heart ache&mdash;I mean so much
+painfulness for every one concerned!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This conviction must, sooner or later, lead me to
+action. The world is indulgent to the impetuous,
+because they appear strong; and it is most severe to
+those who hesitate, because hesitation is taken for a
+sign of weakness. Lookers-on have no patience with
+moral combats&mdash;and least of all in affairs of this kind.
+But no opinion will force me to do what I do not
+think right. If our engagement is a mistake, I don't
+intend to &#8216;lump it,&#8217; as they say. We must mend the
+evil. And, thank God, it is not too late. The merciful
+part is that in relieving my own mind I shall also
+greatly relieve hers. It is clear she doesn't love me.
+This last act proves the fact conclusively.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pensée did not agree with this, but she remained
+silent, fearing lest a rash word should spoil her good
+work.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For a long, long time,&#8221; he continued, &#8220;my con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>stant
+question has been, &#8216;Can this last? is it a
+delusion?&#8217; But I do not shut my eyes now. I
+knew they were all wrong at home when they made
+out that she was in love with me, and expected me to
+propose. We are both the victims of an impertinent,
+if well-meant, interference&mdash;what Robert calls &#8216;the
+jabbering of the damned.&#8217; Poor Robert, we are
+forgetting him. I am ashamed to talk so much
+about myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In his case, I see no help but resignation to the
+will of God,&#8221; said Pensée.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But that resignation is an awful thing,&#8221; said
+Reckage. &#8220;It is a shade better than the atheism of
+despair; yet only a shade better.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>By degrees Pensée was learning why Robert had
+such a strong, tenacious attachment to this man.
+He was always faithful to his mood. All he did and
+all he said represented accurately all he thought and
+all he felt. Some live a dual life&mdash;he lived but one;
+and, with his faults, peculiarities, and egoism, there
+was never the least dissimulation. It was true that,
+if occasion required, he could hold his tongue; but
+he abhorred tact and hated doctrines of expediency&mdash;everything,
+in fact, which put any restraint upon the
+&#8220;development of his inclinations.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The train was now approaching Dover. He decided
+to put his own troubles aside, and, out of mere
+decency, concentrate his thoughts on the severe trial
+in store for Orange.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;This business about Parflete,&#8221; said he, &#8220;is a great
+blow. One becomes indifferent to what is said of, or
+done to, one's self; but that all this uncommon,
+saddening, sickening trouble should come upon Robert
+is too bad. It seems a kind of hacking and hacking,
+bit by bit.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are certainly very fond of him,&#8221; said Pensée.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I am. He's so dependable.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pensée engaged a private cabin for the crossing, and
+she retired there with her maid. Too tired and over-strung
+to sleep, she lay down, closed her eyes, and
+lived again through the many fatiguing, agitating
+moments of that day. Her affection for Orange had
+been so steeped in hopelessness from the hour, months
+before, when he told her of his love for Brigit, that
+the wedding of these two had been a relief rather than
+a final anguish. The agonising possibilities which had
+sometimes darted into her mind would never again
+surprise her: the questions which she had always
+striven to prohibit were no longer even in existence.
+He had taken the unredeemable step: he was married.
+Jealousy had no part in her suffering. Robert had
+never given her the smallest right to feel slighted,
+or neglected, or abandoned. Some women are jealous
+by temperament, but the greater number are jealous
+only when their trust is insulted or their dignity
+brought down to the humiliating struggle for a lost
+empire. Empire over Orange she had never possessed
+or claimed: she could feel no bitterness, therefore, at
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>the thought of the small place she occupied in his
+destiny. The sorrow which cut and severed her heart
+was loneliness. She felt that, after the wedding, she
+could hardly do anything or take interest in anything.
+It seemed as if the waters were gathered in heaps on
+either side; things, she thought, could not be better,
+or worse. God was with her still, and her children&mdash;her
+dear children&mdash;were with her still, but she could
+not disguise the greatness of the loss. Her single
+wish, as far as she dared have a wish, had been to
+benefit Robert and to win his confidence. She had
+seen his mind working in various directions, and
+although she was not, in the faintest sense, his fit
+companion intellectually, she had a knowledge and
+experience of life which made her friendship valuable&mdash;a
+gift worth offering to any man. She had been
+able to advise him. Brigit now had even this privilege
+also. &#8220;I shall seem an intruder,&#8221; thought Pensée,
+again and again.</p>
+
+<p>It was altogether a terrible crisis. How she should
+struggle through all the parts of it, or what she should
+be when it was over, she could not trust herself to
+say. The world seemed too heavy a burden to be
+fought against. Yet with what thoughts and aspirations
+and earnest prayers she had stood by Brigit's
+side at the altar rails. She had been given a supernatural
+strength for the marriage ceremony. She was
+by nature and before all things, from first to last,
+unalterably a good friend, and at that moment of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>intensest difficulty the sight of Robert's happiness had
+made her oblivious to every other consideration. Glad
+tears had risen to her eyes. She had been swayed by
+one feeling&mdash;a deep, sincere thankfulness that his
+love-story, which had promised sorrow only from the
+very beginning, was ending, unexpectedly, so well.
+She might have feared that he was changing one form
+of unhappiness for another, but she knew his impatient
+spirit, and, knowing it, she could not imagine
+that any earthly pain could try him so sorely as a
+lifelong separation from the one woman he loved&mdash;loved
+to the pitch of madness.</p>
+
+<p>And then&mdash;in one moment&mdash;the strange tidings
+came which drove her from the stupor of resignation
+to fevers of anxiety more consuming than any
+she had ever felt before. A great flame, successive
+flames, of terror swept over her, as she feigned
+placid sleep in the little cabin, at the thought of
+the news poor Reckage would have to break on
+the morrow. How would Robert bear it? That
+he would act a noble and true part she could not
+doubt. But at a certain degree of suffering, the
+strongest man can think of nothing except himself,
+and she felt already, in anticipation, the dumb torture
+she would have to endure in looking on, helpless and
+unnoticed, at an agony which she could neither share
+nor relieve. The fear of losing him had been dreadful,
+but it was even more dreadful to know that
+although she might have, after all, a certain right
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>now to offer him sympathy, she could never make
+him happy, that she could never hope to learn the
+secret regrets, griefs, and torments, the unspoken
+broodings which would surely enough prey upon
+his spirit. She pictured herself sitting at his side,
+or walking with him, for hours&mdash;he absorbed in his
+own sorrowful thoughts, she striving vainly to distract
+him by a tinkling prattle on every topic except
+the one nearest his heart. Oh, how fearfully wide
+asunder they were! A sensation of the enormous
+distance which can exist between two souls in daily
+companionship filled her with a sickening, shivering
+heaviness. She thought she would have to cry out
+because of the slow fire which seemed to scorch her
+dry and aching eyes. Robert would never really need
+her, never really care about her. This new trouble
+would take him farther away than ever. He would
+burn all his ships, and any poor little tenderness he might
+have had in the past for her, with them. Some great
+revulsion would take place in his character; he would
+perhaps grow silent, reserved, enigmatic, his face
+would show to the world the terrible, false, unknowable
+peace which is the veil of the dead. It was
+useless to smooth her difficulties which existed. It was
+foolish and wrong to encourage herself in unreal ideas
+about him. It was best always to be straightforward
+and admit the truth&mdash;no matter how bitter. And
+yet he had been kind and helpful to her in a way
+in which scarce any one else could have been. She
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>clung to the belief that she would be able to do something
+to make his hour of trial less severe. The hope
+which insinuates itself into every unrequited love still
+lingered. He could at least always talk to her about
+Brigit: that common memory would be a constant
+link between them. She had earned his esteem, and
+perhaps with his esteem an affection deeper than he
+himself realised. Under the pressure of a sudden and
+tragical necessity, he would turn to her with the
+certainty that she would not fail him. She was
+modest enough about her own powers. A remark she
+had once heard Reckage pass, to the effect that religious
+women of devoted lives were unhappily conspicuous,
+as a rule, for feebleness of mind and strength of
+prejudice, haunted her as a kind of doom from which
+there was no appeal. She knew, too, the verdict
+usually passed on those of either sex who have the
+courage to maintain an unselfish attitude whether
+toward God or some fellow-creature. But here she
+comforted herself by deciding that her utter isolation
+in this universe rested on the fact that she did not
+much deserve to be loved by anybody. This granted&mdash;not
+without a pang&mdash;she felt the signs of weariness
+in her heart, but none of wavering. She resolved to
+be foolish in the eyes of the self-satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Reckage meanwhile was pacing the deck.
+His conversation with Pensée had cast a darkness over
+his spirit. He had made up his mind, weeks before,
+that the marriage years of his life would be the best,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>the most distinguished, and most useful. With the
+utmost pains he had chosen a wife. He had acted
+with the greatest caution in no weak or superficial, or
+haphazard, or fitful way. Nevertheless, the outlook
+was dismal. This first step in decline from his ideal
+caused him much pain and restlessness, and led him to
+think cynically of many doctrines to which, in serene
+moments, he had unconditionally subscribed. He
+compared his own case with Robert's. Robert, in
+his headstrong passion, had certainly rattled up sleeping
+lions, heedless of all consequences, and in
+defiance of every warning. He had now met, poor
+fellow, with an appalling chastisement, but could any
+one pretend that he had not brought it, to a great
+extent, upon himself? He (Reckage), however, had
+behaved, from first to last, in an unexceptionable
+manner. He had studiously avoided the one girl of
+whom he was inclined to be immoderately fond.
+It was true that he had practised this restraint less in
+her interest than his own. But this was because he
+feared&mdash;as every creature will fear by instinct its
+mortal enemy&mdash;the power of an ardent attachment.
+His mind had revolted in a panic at the thought of
+becoming dependent on a woman's humours. The
+noblest of the sex were capricious, and far and away
+the best course was to select a partner whose unavoidable
+nonsense would leave one, merely from indifference,
+undisturbed. Sara de Treverell, in the past,
+had been, by her vagaries, directly responsible for
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>several sleepless nights, and a sleepless night was one
+of the few things he simply could not stand.
+Thoughts of her had seemed to unfit him for his
+work, to weaken his nerves, to act, in various ways,
+to his disadvantage. She had been exacting in her
+demands upon his nature. They were not uttered
+demands, or demands which he could formulate, but
+he had been conscious of them always. He had
+been obliged to pause and ask himself at every
+thought, at every step&mdash;&#8220;What would Sara say
+to this?&#8221; It was a tyranny&mdash;if not a species
+of witchcraft. And so he had determined to
+see her no more. Following the usual, most correct
+method in such procedures, he went abroad. After a
+week of irritating meditations, furtive, all but unconquerable
+desires, after he had passed the day on
+which it had been his custom for months to call upon
+her, after he had learned how to discipline the hours
+he had used to spend riding with her in the Row, he
+felt as a convalescent after some exhausting malady&mdash;quiescent,
+dulled, possessed by a drowsy stupidity,
+inaccessible to any serious emotion. He was cured
+of his fancy, although no effort of will could protect
+the soreness of the bruise. He had persevered in his
+course of treatment&mdash;congratulating himself, at the
+end, on his escape from a dangerous obsession. The
+picture of Sara grew paler and paler before his eyes&mdash;indeed,
+it seemed to fade all too quickly, and, with the
+perversity of consistent egoism, he felt many twinges
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>of sadness to think that he had forgotten her so soon.
+His vanity would have preferred a longer combat&mdash;for
+even the most shallow admit the romantic
+admirableness of an obstinate love. Still, what could
+he ask better than this triumph over a cruel, an
+obstructive memory? He had regained, so he believed,
+his old independence as the man of action, energetic,
+self-controlled, moved by one passion only, and that
+the finest of all&mdash;ambition. In surveying once more
+the great design of his career, he found it an effort to
+bring up&mdash;from the far recesses of his experience&mdash;the
+poor little sentimental episode, so insignificant and
+commonplace, which, in a kind of aberration, he had
+taken for an affair of the heart. He returned to
+England. He threw himself with vigour into the
+questions which were then disturbing Churchmen.
+He revived a touching acquaintance with Agnes
+Carillon, an acquaintance which was peculiarly
+soothing to his preoccupied mind. Here was a girl,
+he thought, who could be a fit helpmate. She asked
+for nothing, absorbed nothing, and gave a great deal
+of gentle, kind companionship when he wanted it.
+When he did not want it, she understood perfectly&mdash;possessing,
+in an eminent degree, the rare domestic
+art of being able to make herself scarce&mdash;alike in his
+thoughts and his engagements. The truths did not
+occur to him that a woman in love could never have
+been so unnaturally prudent, or that a woman whom
+he loved could not have interested him so slightly.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>He took great pride in her perfect skin and hair and
+eyes, in her beautiful, graceful, and gracious manners,
+but his soul never kindled at her approach, his pulse
+beat no slower at her departure. He requited her
+agreeableness with respect. And so they had become
+engaged&mdash;to the unbounded gratification of all his
+relatives, amidst the congratulations of his friends.
+There seemed a certain shadowiness in his conception of
+their future existence together as man and wife: something
+which he recognised as an interior voice chimed
+in, from time to time, with provoking interrogations,
+mostly unanswerable. A plaintive need of happiness,
+melancholy, obscure, but recurrent, mixed in his
+fluctuating thoughts. Finally, it pursued him,
+haunted him, and caught him with the strange
+tenacity of an incorporeal grasp. Sara, now dethroned
+from her place of power, loomed in all his dreams.
+Irresistibly, he was drawn toward the forbidden recollection
+of her delightfulness. There seemed no longer
+any danger in these musings. He had entrusted his
+actual life to the safe-keeping of the nicest woman he
+had ever known. Where then was the harm in
+harking back, merely in reverie, to the frivolous,
+amusing phantom of a renounced sentiment? Yet,
+after a reverie of the kind, why did he often
+wonder how he and Agnes could look in one
+another's faces and pretend to any sort of real
+intimacy? Sara knew him better than he knew
+himself. Her sympathy ran into a hundred sinuosities<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>&mdash;she
+understood his silence as well as his conversation.
+He was never conscious of the smallest strain,
+the least dissimulation, in her society. Beneath their
+curious disparities an identity seemed to unite them.
+There was an unrepenting quality in her conscience
+which braced and stimulated his moral courage.
+Agnes, on the contrary, with her instinct of behaviour,
+made him over-cautious and encouraged the tendency
+to indecision which interfered with the comfortable
+balance of his soul. And he wished his faculties to
+work with astronomic punctuality. It is certain,
+however, that he would have accepted his choice as a
+thing settled beyond any readjustment, but for the
+news of the Duke of Marshire's proposal, and the
+sight of Sara herself on the fatal afternoon when he
+was feeling especially forlorn. She had thrown him
+a glance in which defiance, disdain, and an indistinct
+affection were blended in one provoking dart. He
+was a moralist who believed that there is always,
+between men and women, the dormant principles of
+mistrust and hatred. He had discussed this theory
+frequently with Robert, who found the notion as
+repulsive as it was false. But it seemed a truth
+beyond contradiction to Reckage, who possessed, in
+his own mind, constant irrefutable testimony in
+support of the view. Sara had never before defied
+him. She had never before seemed to feel her power
+as a creature incomparably superior in brilliancy to all
+the other girls in their circle. She had never before
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>seemed to pity him as a man who had feared to do
+what Marshire&mdash;a being considered remarkable only
+for his family and his fortune&mdash;had boldly, gladly
+volunteered to carry out to the ultimate consequence.
+That glance pierced his self-love, his pride, his will.
+After his long hesitations, after the wearisome, interminable
+debates between his judgment and his
+inclination, he decided suddenly, all at once, without
+further reflection, that he no longer belonged to
+himself. He was the slave once more of doubts, fears,
+and temptations. His excited nerves and troubled
+senses asserted their right to be regarded as threads, at
+least, in the web of destiny. From the hour of that
+chance encounter in the Park, till he and Sara met at
+Lord Garrow's that day, he had not been able to escape
+from the inexorable cruelty of an ill-used passion,
+once more, in full command. Every individual has
+his rule&mdash;could one but find it out&mdash;and a rule to
+which there are no exceptions. With Reckage it
+was simple enough: he invariably followed the line of
+his own glory. The distress he suffered&mdash;really, and
+not colourably&mdash;took its rise from the intervention of
+Marshire. He felt as a racing man feels when he sees
+a friendless horse, which he might have purchased,
+beat the Derby favourite by some three lengths and a
+half. He winced at the suspicion that he had committed
+an error in judgment, and lost a great opportunity.
+The words of Sir Piers Harding on the
+subject of audacity in love had fallen on his ears with
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>startling force. It was an illustration of that old
+saying&mdash;&#8220;The appetite, the occasion, and the ripe
+fruit.&#8221; Convinced now that his reputation, his career,
+and his comfort depended on his conduct toward
+Sara, all hesitation left him. He would have to drive
+Marshire, in confusion, from the field, and bear away
+the prize himself. Pensée's observations with regard
+to Agnes had cleared away most, if not all, of his
+difficulties in that particular quarter. No one had
+ever accused him of cowardice. Whenever he took
+refuge in procrastination or deceit, it was never
+because he was afraid, but in order that nothing might
+interfere with the purpose he had in hand. The
+growing miseries of the situation which he saw, already
+in part, served only to augment the violence of his
+resolve. His vanity forbade him to believe that
+Agnes would not suffer very much when he told her,
+as he intended, that they had both mistaken a profound
+esteem&mdash;based on reason&mdash;for love, which, as
+all the world admits, is something remote indeed
+from one's will and one's power. He was desirous to
+remain her friend, but he could not, without insincerity&mdash;and
+by God's grace, he would not&mdash;continue longer
+in a position which was false in itself and an injustice
+to each of them. He proposed to dwell very frankly,
+but in deep sadness, on the fact that although their
+engagement had been a seeming success&mdash;outwardly&mdash;the
+success had been by no means proved either to
+his satisfaction, or, he ventured to think, to hers. He
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>would pray that she would not consider herself under
+any restraint in speaking freely to him, from her heart,
+at all times. He hoped that the inevitable criticism
+of malicious or ignorant persons would never shake
+her faith in his unwavering loyalty, his singular desire
+for her happiness. On the other hand, he did not
+wish to involve her in justifying his action to the
+world. There was no call for that. She might be
+assured that he would do as little as possible to protract
+the agony&mdash;he used the word advisedly&mdash;of their
+separation. He believed it would be the best way&mdash;if
+God gave them the ability&mdash;not to meet until they
+had trained themselves to the peaceful, sweet relationship
+of their first acquaintance. All this and more he
+composed and turned over in his mind as he paced the
+deck. His eyes frequently filled with tears, and he
+thought how little, how fearfully little, he had ever
+suspected this severance from a noble life with which
+he had wished most earnestly to join his own. He
+was unhappy according to the measure of his capacity,
+and he was genuine in so far as he regretted the
+necessary suffering of the innocent with the guilty.
+But guilt is in the intention, and he could say, with
+truth, that he had never intended to give pain, or to
+make trouble, in his life.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p><h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+
+<p>The Southampton steamer approached St. Malo about
+three o'clock on the following afternoon. Robert and
+Brigit had spent the night on deck&mdash;it was better than
+going below into the close, dreary cabin&mdash;and so they
+counted the stars, and kept their gaze, through the
+vast reaches of atmosphere, for the first sight of land.
+The moon, then at its full strength, lit up the whole
+blue dome above them, and cast its glancing, silver path
+upon the water&mdash;a path which the ship ever crossed
+but never followed. On and on they sped, and, as their
+ears grew accustomed to the monotonous churning of
+the paddle-wheels, the silence seemed intense. The
+splendour of the night made sleep, to minds as passionate
+as theirs toward all manifestations of the world's
+beauty, impossible. Unconscious of any particular
+thought, they shared a dreamless reverie which was so
+perfect in its rest and so complete in its still contentment
+that they did not know that they were resting,
+nor could they realise that such sweet hours, even as
+bitter ones, do not loiter in their passing or come again.
+Soon enough Robert saw himself very far gone from
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>the undissembled sternness of his old resolutions. If
+he could but be rid of that altogether! He thought he
+had obtained a mystic recognition of the terrorless but
+uncommunicating Joy of life which while men live
+they pursue, desiring it with the one human craving
+which survives every misfortune, every thwarted hope,
+all enslavement of the heart's small freedom&mdash;the thirst
+for happiness. Was man, whom God had made in His
+own Image, but a shadow on the unstable wind?
+Could it be true that he came in with vanity and
+departed in darkness, his soul bereft of God, knowing
+not his time, finding not the work that is done under
+the sun, born to companion worms in the dust?
+Should he remain unresisting and without influence on
+the decision of his own destiny? Yet he remembered
+the precept of Christ: &#8220;Whosoever will save his life shall
+lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for My sake shall
+find it&#8221;&mdash;words which put forth a great mystery, perhaps
+a warning. Plainly, in all that a man could bring
+to the world, or take from it, there was vanity and
+death; but many things were vain merely because they
+were not eternal, and many things perished because where
+life is, change must be. Immutable, permanent possessions
+were the gifts of God to men. But the gifts of
+men to God would always be imperfect&mdash;whether they
+offered the sacrifice of their wills or their imagined
+earthly happiness. Yet if this imperfection were a
+mean one, something less grand than the immeasurable
+sanctity of Divine strength made human and therefore
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>sorrowful, therefore not omnipotent, therefore liable to
+error&mdash;where then was the merit of renouncing a manhood
+already too squalid to be endured, friends that
+were phantoms, loves that were lies, joys that were
+void promises invented by the cruel for the disappointment
+of the foolish? He looked down at Brigit, who,
+wrapped in her furs, was stretched out by his side, her
+beautiful, child-like countenance turned toward him,
+smiling in faith and deep unspeakable tenderness. He
+could hear her tremulous breath and catch the fragrance
+of her face, which, in the moonlight, seemed as white
+and delicate as a cloud. The knowledge that she
+belonged to him at last entered into his heart, his
+blood, his brain, his thoughts, became the very life
+within his life&mdash;an element which was neither wholly
+love nor wholly passion, but a necessity from which he
+could not depart and without which he would cease to
+be. All men need to have near them, allied in close
+association with them, either a force to strengthen their
+weakness or else a weakness which insists upon some
+demonstration of their strength. In conceivable circumstances
+it might be a duty to dissever such a bond;
+it might be a duty to die of starvation rather than
+steal a loaf, and, as death would ultimately quench the
+craving stomach, so a broken soul, in time, would cease
+lamenting for its maimed energy. Let heart-sickness
+pass beyond a certain bitter-point and the heart loses
+its life for ever. Had Robert's marriage been impossible,
+had he decided, on that account, to go away
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>from Brigit's influence, had he vowed, in some paroxysm
+of despair, to see her no more, to pluck out his eye&mdash;to
+forget her&mdash;what would have happened? Would he
+have been able to say to himself at the end of three
+years, seven years, nine years, &#8220;I did my duty. I have
+my reward&#8221;? Is it so easy even to acquiesce in the
+great bereavements caused naturally, against our will,
+by death? Does one ever, in the hidden depths of the
+mind, mistake the cinders of a consumed anguish for
+the stars of peace? A man need not be a prophet in
+order to foresee the effect of certain measures on his
+own character. Indeed, if self-knowledge be not
+regarded as a sentinel to the judgment, its laborious
+acquisition would be worth the travail of no honest
+will. Gained, it remains like an interdict upon all
+undertakings, projects, ambitions, setting forth clearly
+all that one may, or may not, attempt in common life,
+and, above all, in heroism&mdash;heroism understood truly,
+not the false ideals of idle, untaxed sentiment. Robert
+shrank from examining the sharpest nail of the several
+which had been piercing his heart for weeks&mdash;from the
+day when he had first received the news of Parflete's
+death. Had he not often suspected, until then, that,
+for some reason, he had been called to renounce the
+hope of marriage? True, he had never been certain of
+this, and, certainly, the chain of events, even considered
+without prejudice, seemed altogether favourable to an
+opposite view. His resolution had been to remain
+single so long as he could not marry the woman of his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>choice. Firmly enough he had taken his stand on that
+ground, realising to the utmost every difficulty to be
+encountered, every interest to be thrown aside, from
+the exigencies of such a position. The misunderstandings
+which would arise, the restraint, the loneliness,
+the possible morbidity of his own feeling, the sure
+absence of charity in all outside criticism of his conduct,
+were not overlooked or under-estimated by a man
+so versed as himself in the tariff of the market-place.
+He had known full well that his decision, robbed of its
+romantic and picturesque motives, would affect very
+seriously every step in his career, and influence, as only
+violence to one's human affections can influence, his
+character, his mode of thought, his whole view of life
+and his work in life. This he had known&mdash;known,
+that is to say, as much as anything may be known of a
+plan not yet executed and destined to a slow accomplishment
+which finds its final seal of success or failure
+neither in this existence nor in death, but beyond the
+grave. Now, however, that the exterior obstacles to
+a happier scheme were apparently removed, the more
+formidable opposition of his own secret ideals stirred
+ominously in his conscience. Men's designs are never
+so indefinite and confused as when they meet with no
+outward resistance. A close attack has proved the
+salvation of most human wills and roused the energy
+of many drooping convictions. It is seldom good that
+one should enter into any vocation very easily, sweetly,
+and without strife. The best apprenticeships, whether
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>ecclesiastical or religious, or civil or military, or political
+or artistic, are never the most calm. Whether we
+study the lives of saints or the lives of those distinguished
+in any walk of human endeavour where perfection,
+in some degree or other, has been at least the goal,
+we always find that the first years of the pursuit have
+been one bitter history of temptations, doubts, despondencies,
+struggles, and agonising inconsistencies of
+volition. To natures cold originally, or extinguished
+by a false asceticism, many seeming acts of sacrifice are
+but the subtle indulgence of that curious selfishness
+which is not the more spiritual because it is independent
+of others, or the less repulsive because it is most contented
+in its isolation from every responsibility. A
+renunciation means the deliberate putting away of
+something keenly loved, anxiously desired, or actually
+possessed; it does not mean a well-weighed acceptance
+of the lesser, rather than the greater, trials of life.
+When Orange had faced the desolate road before him
+it was as though men ploughed into his heart and left
+it mangled. Submission to the severities of God
+whatever they might be, obedience to authority, a companionless
+existence&mdash;these were the conditions, he
+knew, of the meagre joy permitted to those who,
+full of intellect, feeling, and kindness, undertook the
+rigorous discipline of a solitary journey. The world
+seldom takes account of the unhappy sensitiveness in
+devout souls; it thinks them insensible not only because
+they know how to keep silent, but how to sacri<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>fice
+their secret woes. And what, after all, are the
+gratified expectations of any career in comparison with
+its hidden despairs?</p>
+
+<p>It may be a fact that love, in every imaginative
+mind, approaches madness; on the other hand, the
+least imaginative are often not merely attracted but
+carried away, without any sort of consent, by some
+over-mastering human magnetism. To love well is
+a quality in temperament, just as to preach well, or
+to conduct a siege well, or to tend the sick well, or,
+in fact, to do anything well, is a special distinction,
+a ruling motive in the great pursuit of absolute felicity&mdash;a
+pursuit which is the inalienable right of all human
+creatures, whether fixed mistakenly in this world, or
+wisely in the next. No calling can be obeyed without
+suffering, but as in the old legend each man's cross
+was found exquisitely fitted to his own back, so a
+vocation is found to be just when, on the whole, one
+has fewer misgivings that way than in any other.
+By the exercise of self-discipline one may do much
+that is not repulsive only but suicidal&mdash;a man may
+so treat his spirit that it becomes a sort of petrified
+vapour. When, however, he has dosed, reduced,
+tortured, and killed every vital instinct in his nature
+till he is an empty shape and nothing more, he must
+not flatter himself that he has accomplished a great
+work. Life is not for the dead, but for the living,
+and in crucifying our flesh we have to be quite
+certain that we are playing no ghost's farce, inflicting
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>airy penalties on some handfuls of harsh dust. Robert
+could not feel that absorbing interest in himself which
+enables so many to cut themselves adrift, painfully,
+no doubt, from every creature and all impersonal
+anxieties. If he wished for fame, power, wealth, it
+was that he might use them to the advantage of his
+friends, or for the reparation, in some degree, of his
+father's sin. But all the joy and all the melancholy
+in love give a free rein to egoism, and now that he
+had gained, as he believed, the desire of his eyes, the
+confused, tyrannical, inexplicable, triumphant selfishness
+dormant in him, as in all of us, began to assert its
+terrible power. He forgot the agonies, storms, and
+fevers of the past. Work had not always been able
+to dominate his unrest. There had been times when
+he had been compelled to follow the beckoning
+dreams; when, in tightening his clasp about the
+mockeries of his hope, he lost the pale happiness
+which he held already. Whole days had passed when
+some oppressive thought had spread its dark wings, as
+a bird of prey, over his whole being, crushing him
+gradually down to the earth. Now the occasion, the
+solitude, the glory of the night cast their spell over
+his soul. For the first time his emotion, so long
+dumb and imprisoned, found speech. Brigit listened,
+almost afraid, to his burning words, which, new and
+strange to her, were, in reality, but the echo of his
+interior life, his secret intimate thoughts, the pent-up
+eloquence of a latent habitual devotion long distrusted
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>for its very strength and kept till that hour in strict
+silence, lest in the torrent of feeling it should say too
+much. The love to which he had long since surrendered
+himself now had complete possession of him.
+He spoke as he had never spoken before&mdash;as he
+never spoke again. The storm was restrained, subservient
+possibly still, but it was there, not to be
+forbidden, denied, or gainsayed. One has to be very
+strong in order to support the realisation of a long
+deferred, almost abandoned, hope. Affliction seems
+to intensify a personality, adding to it a distinctness,
+a power altogether commanding and irresistible, but
+even in our purest happiness we lose something of
+ourselves, and become, momentarily at least, less our
+own masters, and more pliant to the reproof of chance,
+the sport of destiny. As Robert uttered his passionate
+confession, he was conscious that much in him which
+had once seemed strong was conquerable enough, and,
+in the torture of the indescribable variety of vague,
+menacing feelings which this suspicion called forth,
+he revolted against the influence which held him,
+which left him neither liberty, nor security; which,
+for a few days of mad exultation, cost him a thousand
+bewildering, desolating fears. Did he guess that
+when one most eagerly desires happiness, one is most
+near to it? Already, he remembered, with a sudden
+pallor, and a sharp contraction of the lips, that death,
+in time, would certainly claim both of them, and his
+soul was pierced at the thought, for nothing seemed
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>imaginably so perfect as the wild gladness of that poor
+human hour then gliding, with pitiless beats, toward
+the past. Already the moon had ceased to weave her
+magic; the sun rose over the unrebukable sea, and
+the distant coast, obscured in a purple vapour, seemed
+but a line of darkness against the flushed horizon.
+The sky was grey, opalescent in the north, tenderest
+green and azure in the east, while large, motionless
+clouds, as blue as vine-clad hills, shadowed in great
+clusters the vast canopy. But if the dawn of day
+wrought a progressive disenchantment of the dreamer,
+Robert felt with the recurrence of the morning the
+usual prayer rise to his lips in a long weeping, inarticulate
+cry to God&mdash;&#8220;Thou knowest that I love
+Thee: Thou knowest that all my life is but a desire
+of Thee: Thy Will, not mine.&#8221; And he heard
+again the promise: &#8220;<i>Thou art My servant, I have
+chosen thee, and not cast thee away. Fear thou not, for
+I am with thee: be not dismayed, for I am thy God: I
+will strengthen thee: yea, I will help thee.</i>&#8221; As the
+silent disquietude of night gave place to the intense
+tranquillity of day, the impenetrable secret of life,
+though still profound, unviolated, and eluding, was
+hidden in a shining, though not a blinding, mist.
+Was night less night because it paled gloriously before
+the sun? Was day less day because it darkened into
+evening? Was joy a false thing because it passed?
+Did not sorrow pass also? If that sweet journey was
+the first and last in all his life, was it not still a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>miracle of blessing, nay, every blessing, to have known
+even once the power of mortal happiness?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What are you thinking of?&#8221; asked Brigit suddenly,
+touching his arm with her hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am thinking that there is but one way of resisting
+the woe of life&mdash;the infinite must oppose the
+infinite. Infinite sorrow must be met by infinite
+love.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose we have the sorrow, and the infinite
+love is God's. We mustn't call even our love infinite,
+Robert.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He hesitated for a few moments before he replied&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I call it no name.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Still,&#8221; she said, &#8220;the very book in which the
+vanity of all things is most insisted on has lived itself
+nearly three thousand years. Solomon has given the
+lie to his own despair of being remembered. This is
+why I never feel sad now when I think about the
+other fears which made him discontented.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Were they fears? I believe he wanted to conquer
+the world, which is strong, and his own weakness,
+which was even stronger, as an adversary. We must
+know the measure of a man's desires before we can
+sound the depths of his regrets.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again she put out her hand, but this time she took
+his, following the instinct of a child who finds itself
+with a trusted companion in a gloomy road.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing unknown can be wished for,&#8221; she said
+gently, &#8220;and so, if some few things did not last, we
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>should not have this dissatisfaction at the thought of
+their perishing. But what is troubling you? The
+greatest cross is to be without a cross. You, dearest,
+are never at ease unless you are at least suffering
+tortures for some friend.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am thinking of myself now&mdash;myself only. I
+can't forget that every supreme blessing must be
+bought with long sadness, both before and after, and
+now we are together, I am wondering what I
+should do&mdash;if&mdash;if we were separated. I must have
+the courage to face that thought. I can't put it away
+because it has defied me, and when a thought defies
+me, I have to meet it fairly. I do not believe in
+denying its force, or running away in an opposite
+direction. I hear its argument and I try to answer
+it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She moved towards him and said in a low voice&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have one prayer, and this is that I may outlive
+you. When you die, I shall soon follow you. It
+won't seem so very long. But if I should die first
+I should have to wait, because you would never yield,
+and your grief would cut sharply and slowly, a little
+more and a little more each day. And although I
+might be with you, you could not see me. I should
+know all your thoughts and yet I could say nothing.
+Almighty God is too kind to let me be so unhappy
+after I am dead. This is &#8216;the confidence wherein I
+trust.&#8217; This is why I have no fears now. We may
+have great trials&mdash;how can we expect to be exempt
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>from them? But we must help each other to bear
+them and then they will seem more precious than joys.
+You see, don't you? You understand, don't you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He could not trust himself to reply. There are
+certain utterances, certain turns of thought, which are
+so restricted to one sex or the other, so exclusively
+feminine or masculine, as the case may be, that their
+entire comprehension by both sexes is not possible.
+Intuition, imagination, sympathy may help a great
+deal; men and women will accept much from each
+other which they cannot to their reasoning satisfaction
+account for, and, if the difference serves only to
+enhance, by its mystery, the melodiousness of the
+eternal human duet, it also proves that, while the
+singers may be in harmony, they are never in absolute
+unison.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know how much I love you,&#8221; said Brigit,
+&#8220;you know it. Yet there is an interior cloister of
+your mind which you keep wholly to yourself. You
+never ask me there. I watch your face&mdash;it tells me
+nothing. You have not yet made me your friend.
+If you were in trouble you would go to Pensée,
+because she is older and she is used to responsibilities.
+But you hide things from me because you are afraid
+of giving me pain.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is reason enough why I should not tell
+you of every passing mood, nor draw you into some
+invincible personal sadness, and why I should not
+invite you into the &#8216;interior cloister&#8217; of my mind.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>Nobody deliberates to do what he cannot help. There
+is always something questioning within me, and a
+truth is not to be set aside by any other truth whatever.
+We can only fix our jaws and grip our hands
+in useless wonder at the contradictions of the soul.
+I would tell you all my heart,&#8221; he added, with a laugh,
+&#8220;but it would take too long!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He had been startled by the acuteness of her perception.
+Too probably he had carried his reserve to
+the selfish pitch, and in over-mastering, with silence,
+his own moods, afflicted her who had become now,
+by love, inseparable from his spiritual as well as his
+outward life. But there is something in beauty&mdash;just
+as there is something in youth&mdash;which one fears
+to disturb, lest a change should alter, or mar, in the
+faintest degree, the sufficient loveliness, the unconscious
+charm. Is it not for this cause that many
+dependent natures find classic perfection cold, superb
+scenery unsympathetic, and the spectacle of careless
+happiness embittering? Others, of imaginative temperament,
+prefer that their idols should remain impassive,
+and, granted the inspiration arising from a
+fair appearance, ask no more, but find their delight in
+bestowing, from the riches of their own gratitude,
+adorable attributes and endless worship. Orange, as
+many other men of idealising tendencies, took his
+human solace for the discouragements, fatigues, and
+ordeals of life in the mere existence of the woman he
+loved. He was at the moment of humility which is
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>the first and last in all really great passions. He
+asked for nothing; it was all too glorious even to
+have the privilege of offering gifts, of feeling the
+readiness to die ten deaths for her sake, of finding all
+the recompenses of eternity in the soft depths of her
+bright eyes. But as he was too much in earnest to
+analyse these sentiments, he could neither gauge his
+own reticence nor justify it to Brigit herself. Nor
+could she, with all her tenderness and womanly
+instincts, help him in that matter&mdash;their one possibility
+of estrangement. She lacked the knowledge which
+renders verbal confidences unnecessary; she was too
+loving and too human to be happy as an inspiration
+and an inspiration only; she also had a great desire to
+give, to aid, to prove her devotion, to be the friend
+and the fellow-pilgrim.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p><h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+
+
+<p>Brilliant sunlight lit up the grey spires and threatening
+pinnacles of St. Malo. The back of the ancient
+fortress was hidden in white mist, but the houses
+which rose above the battlements facing the harbour,
+and the shops and little taverns near the quay, shone
+out in brightness, their windows glittering under the
+sky where straying clouds, driven by the wind, were
+melting, as they fled, into the all-encompassing blue
+ether. Some pigeons and wild gulls circled above the
+earthworks, darting down, at times, between the
+massive oak piles which, forced deep into the sand,
+were covered with shining seaweed. The piercing
+note of the military bugle, the crack of the cabmen's
+long whips, the clatter of wooden shoes, and the
+Angelus bells then chiming, made up a volume of
+sound which fell on Robert's ears with all the poignant
+strangeness of an old song heard again after many
+years. A hundred memories flocked into his mind at
+the first distant view of that familiar scene: memories
+of his boyhood, its errors, its visions, its ambitions;
+his revolt against nature as he understood it, and his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>desire to keep his heart and soul and senses for the
+service of God, and the custody of his own ideals.
+The very centre of his thoughts was here: here he had
+found the first beginnings of his faith and love. How
+often he had walked alone upon those ramparts with
+his New Testament and the <i>Morte d'Arthur</i>, striving,
+in the fervour of romantic sentiment, to combine the
+standards of knightly chivalry with the austere counsels
+of the gospel. The divinity of Christ is the object
+of eternal contemplations, and at every age&mdash;not of
+the world only, but of the individual&mdash;His Humanity,
+under our fresh knowledge, demands a different study
+and a fuller understanding. What changes, therefore,
+experience and suffering had wrought in those early,
+untried speculations! The ideals remained, but they
+made for swords, not peace; the sweetness of the
+dream had become an inflexible law of conscience;
+the doctrine of a transcendent disdain of this world,
+accepted in solitude by the obscure youth brought up
+in a provincial town, had exacted its tax to the uttermost
+farthing from the man who struggled now with
+the rich and powerful in a great city of the great
+universe of affairs.... He thought of his dead godmother,
+Madame Bertin, with her still, pale face and
+beautiful hands&mdash;a cold, blameless woman who had
+treated him kindly and misunderstood him always.
+She had been his father's friend; she had loved him, in
+her own stern, silent fashion, for his father's sake. O,
+if she might only know now how much he treasured
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>every impression he had formed of her strong character!
+She had given him all the tenderness she had,
+and all the motherly influence his childhood had
+received. What might his life have been without
+that early association with a noble if somewhat restricted
+nature? But these and similar thoughts, while
+they went deep, passed swiftly and did not return
+again till a very different moment, when they came
+with agony and remained for ever.</p>
+
+<p>He and Brigit were the last to leave the boat.
+They had been so happy there that, by an instinct,
+they lingered behind the others, unwilling to break
+the enchantment of their isolation from the land, and
+half-dreading the unknown trials, or joys, which
+awaited, surely enough, their first steps upon the soil.
+As they crossed the plank they looked back, obeying
+a common impulse, at the deserted deck. Their
+chairs had already been moved away, and the leeward
+corner, which had seemed so much their own, was
+filled up by a small group of sailors who were
+quarrelling about the division of <i>pourboires</i>. The drive
+to Miraflores is long and winding, past several small
+villages, and approached finally through a large tract
+of fields and orchards. But for the changing crimson
+of the vines, it might have been August weather.
+Robins, however, were singing, and the golden, brown,
+and russet butterflies of autumn were floating languidly
+above the wayside hedges. The cawing of rooks, the
+cooing of wood-pigeons, and the hum of insects
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>invaded the stillness of the lonely farms which, at long
+distances, gave picturesque evidence of the human toil
+expended on the careful, rather melancholy charm of
+that northern landscape. The Villa Miraflores&mdash;an
+elaborate reproduction of the celebrated Villa Madama
+near Rome&mdash;stood on a wooded hill rising out of a
+river, facing the rocky sea-coast. Built by the Archduke
+Charles of Alberia for his morganatic wife,
+Henriette Duboc, and pulled down since for the
+erection of a convent, it is never mentioned in history,
+and it has been long forgotten by the few inhabitants of
+the neighbourhood. But as the young couple entered
+the lodge gates that day, and drove along the stately
+avenue, the beautiful ill-fated structure rose before
+them as some castle in the air brought down to earth
+by a magician's wand. Was this their home? They
+dared not speak lest the vision should fade too soon.
+But Orange remembered it all&mdash;this was no dream.
+There were the winding alleys leading to peeps of
+water, land and sky; there was the path which he had
+followed, years before, in search of his destiny. He
+drew a long breath, drinking in the intoxicating
+strength of the fresh sea air wafted through pine-trees.
+The atmosphere was charged with the very madness
+of youth and joy. Who could have hoped for such a
+miracle as this? Had the whole course of fate a like
+to show? Did it not seem a triumph over life and its
+threatened deceptions? His own servant and Brigit's
+maid&mdash;whom they had sent there some days before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>&mdash;were
+watching for them at the open door, and the
+sight of those well-known faces gave him a still
+further assurance of the scene's actuality. They
+crossed the hall without noticing a small blue telegram
+on one of the malachite tables. They walked together
+through every room, wondering at their treasures,
+looking out of the windows, amazed, bewitched,
+gradually becoming used to the fact of each other's
+company in such a solitude. What were the woes
+and cryings of the outer world to them, lost in the
+impenetrable silence of that retreat? A strange,
+double sensation of delight and forgetfulness surged in
+them both. All knowledge of disturbing human
+influences, of the fret, and discord, and inquietude of
+common existence seemed trivial and even false.
+They looked with confidence into each other's eyes, as
+though they were the sole inhabitants of some brilliant,
+inaccessible star set far above the earth and its evil.
+They were to remain there a month&mdash;one month at
+least&mdash;and after that would trials, or labour, or sorrow
+deluge in bitterness the sweet, eternal recollection of
+such days? A table had been set for them in one of
+the small pavilions leading on to a balcony. The
+scent of flowers, mingling with the sunlight, came in
+through the open windows, bringing the garden's
+freshness to the faded lilacs on the carpet and tapestry.
+Brigit went to the looking-glass, took off her hat, and
+apologised for her &#8220;frightful appearance.&#8221; She had
+thrown her veil and gloves on the sofa, and the mere
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>sight of them there gave a homeliness to that forsaken
+room which, with its rococo decorations, painted ceilings,
+and gilded doors, had something of the dead
+gaiety of an empty theatre. Brigit made the tea,
+following the English custom taught her by Pensée.
+Was the water boiling? Did he like sugar? How
+absurd not to know whether one's husband took
+cream! The two had seen so little of each other in
+domestic surroundings that this little commonplace
+intimacy had an intoxicating charm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are you happy?&#8221; she asked suddenly. &#8220;Do you
+know that you are all I love in the world, and I am
+yours for ever and ever?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And how much do you love me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall never be able to say how much.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She took his hand, kissed it, pressed it to her heart,
+then asked him, with some confusion, if he liked
+grapes better than pears.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are so beautiful,&#8221; he replied.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not to-day,&#8221; she answered; &#8220;to-day I am quite
+dull. But you are handsome. I saw them looking at
+you on the boat. And I was proud&mdash;oh, so proud to
+think that you were mine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>When they had finished their meal, she opened the
+piano and struck out some chords, which echoed with
+a kind of wail through the long corridors outside.
+The instrument was out of tune, and the strings
+seemed muffled.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Something is inside,&#8221; she said.</p>
+
+<p>They looked and discovered a few sheets of music
+which had slipped down upon the wires. The sheets
+were dusty, stained with age, blurred by damp, but
+one bore the name &#8220;Henriette&#8221; written in the corner
+in a large, defiant hand. Joining the fragments, they
+found it was an arrangement in manuscript of Poe's
+ballad, &#8220;Annabel Lee.&#8221;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<i>
+<span class="i0">It was many and many a year ago,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In a kingdom by the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That a maiden there lived whom you may know<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By the name of Annabel Lee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And this maiden she lived with no other thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Than to love and be loved by me.<br /></span>
+</i>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<i>
+<span class="i0">But our love it was stronger by far than the love<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of those that were older than we&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of many far wiser than we&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And neither the angels in heaven above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nor the demons down under the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can ever dissever my soul from the soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of the beautiful Annabel Lee."<br /></span>
+</i>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>As Brigit read aloud these words of haunting
+pathos, the very trees, rustling outside in the October
+wind, the far-away sound of the waves beating upon
+the sand, seemed to Robert an ominous accompaniment&mdash;half
+a warning, half a promise.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wonder,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I wonder why that was
+there?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He was uneasy, he could not say why. He was
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>conscious of some influence in the room. He felt,
+unaccountably, that they were not alone. Looking
+round for some confirmation of this strange instinct
+his eyes fell on the small blue envelope which had
+been placed on the mantelpiece by his servant. It
+was addressed to himself. Fortunately, whilst he was
+opening it, Brigit's attention was still riveted on the
+old song which she was humming over at the piano.
+She spoke to him three times before he answered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This telegram,&#8221; he said, at last, trying to control
+his voice, &#8220;is from Reckage. He is on his way now
+to see me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He is coming here? Why is he coming here?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He put his arm round her, in a desperate, long
+embrace, kissing her face, her eyes, her hair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it, Robert?&#8221; she said, clinging to him,
+for she heard something like a sob under his breath.
+&#8220;You have had bad news. You must tell me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It may not be so serious ... perhaps it is badly
+worded ... but Pensée is coming with him and he
+says quite plainly that there is some legal difficulty
+about our marriage.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Some legal difficulty!&#8221; she repeated. &#8220;What is
+the use of that now? I can't leave you again. I'll die
+first. I can't bear it. O, Robert, I am so tired of
+the law. There are no laws for the birds, or for the
+flowers, or for the trees, or for any thing that is happy!
+Why should we be made so miserable&mdash;just to please
+the magistrates and mayors!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But it is more than that&mdash;I am certain. Suppose
+it has something to do with Parflete?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;With Wrexham? How could that be? He is
+dead.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He may not be dead.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She sank down to the floor on her knees.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;O my God! You know that he is living.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Reckage doesn't say so. But would he and
+Pensée come unless they felt we should need them?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I need no one except you. I don't want to see
+them. I don't want to hear their news. They are
+killing you. You seem calm, but your face! you
+have never looked like this before. O, darling, it
+can't be what you think it is.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He lifted her from the ground and took her in his
+arms again, as though he could defy the cruel, invisible
+fate which had decreed their separation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In any case,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I won't give you back&mdash;I
+cannot. It is too much to ask. You are mine&mdash;you
+were never his&mdash;never. God is not unjust, and
+this is unjust. As for other people and outside opinion,
+they have not mattered to me at any time, and least
+of all can they matter now. I won't give you back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She held him closer, already feeling, in spite of his
+words, the first agony of their inevitable farewell.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You love me!&#8221; she said, &#8220;you must never leave
+me. Kiss me, and promise me that you will never
+leave me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Grief and horror had broken down every barrier of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>reserve between them. The pent-up passion on his
+side, the intense unconscious tenderness on hers seemed
+to meet and blend in the one consuming thought that
+they belonged to each other&mdash;that, in the awful
+struggle between the force of circumstances and the
+force of life&mdash;they might have to part.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why should we two matter in so large a world?&#8221;
+she cried. &#8220;Surely we need not suffer so much just
+for the discipline of our own souls? I cannot, cannot,
+cannot go away. I can't live without you. I can't
+die without you. I am tired of being alone. I am
+tired of trying to forget you. And I have tried so
+hard.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her face, from which all colour and joy and animation
+had departed, seemed like a June rose dead, in
+all its perfection, on the tree. One may see many
+such in a garden after a sudden frost.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You mustn't leave me. They all frighten me.
+I have no one but you,&#8221; she continued; &#8220;God will
+understand. He doesn't ask any one to be alone. He
+wasn't even crucified&mdash;alone. He didn't enter into
+Paradise&mdash;alone. Ask me to do anything, but don't
+ask me to go away&mdash;to go back to Wrexham. You
+are much stronger than I am. If you thought you
+ought to cut out your heart by little pieces, you would
+do it. But you must think of me. They may have
+all my money&mdash;that is all they care for. But I must
+have you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Although she made the appeal, he had resolved, in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>silence, long before, that, come what might, he would
+not give her back. The decision rose on the instant,
+without hesitation, doubt, or misgiving&mdash;a deliberate
+choice between two courses.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You cannot return to Parflete,&#8221; he said quietly.
+&#8220;Don't despair. Your marriage with him may be
+annulled. That aspect of the question is revolting,
+abominable; but we are both in such a false position
+now that we owe it as much to other people as we do
+to ourselves to put everything in a true light. You
+are so brave, Brigit&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am tired of being brave.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her slender arms tightened about his neck; he
+could feel, from the whole abandonment of her attitude
+and the slight weight of her childish form, how little
+fitted she was physically for the squalid ordeal of the
+law-courts. If she could live at all through horrors
+of the kind, it would have to be by a miracle. And
+has one the right to hope for miracles where the
+question of happiness or unhappiness in human love
+is the egoistic point at stake? But, right or no right,
+there was in them both that supreme and fatal force
+of affection which, if it be unusual, is at least usual
+enough to be at the root of most mortal tragedies.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am tired or being brave,&#8221; she repeated. &#8220;I
+want to rest.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the mirror opposite them he saw the reflection
+of the bright garden outside. How calm and still it
+seemed! Had he wandered there, years before, with
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>a beating heart, in search of his destiny, merely to find
+it at last after the humiliation of a public scandal?
+Had his idyllic, almost mystical romance, with all its
+aspirations, grace, and unspeakable strength, been
+given to him just to be called from the house-tops and
+discussed in the streets? Was this the end of all
+sublime ideals? Did every delicate, secret sentiment
+have to endure, soon or late, the awful test of degradation
+and mockery? Did it have to come&mdash;this
+terrible day of trial when the Love which moves the
+sun and the other stars had to pass through the common
+sieve with dust, ashes, and much that was infinitely
+viler? No, he told himself, no: ten thousand times,
+no.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Listen,&#8221; he said, &#8220;listen. You need not go back
+to him: he knows&mdash;every one knows now that we
+love each other. We can't live together because our
+marriage is not a marriage. Your marriage with
+Parflete was not a marriage, but it appears so to the
+world. Is it worth while to undeceive the world?
+When I think of the cost of such a proof&mdash;I say it is
+too great. But it you are courageous&mdash;and you will
+be for my sake&mdash;we can defy every one&mdash;on one condition.
+We must be sure of <i>ourselves</i>. We must
+know that we can depend on ourselves. We may
+have to separate now for some months&mdash;perhaps a
+year&mdash;perhaps longer; we must school ourselves to
+look upon each other as friends&mdash;friends, nothing
+more. It will be very hard&mdash;for me, and it is on my
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>account only that we must separate now. But you
+will accept this, even if you cannot understand it,
+because my life here depends on you. I don't say
+anything about my happiness. I leave that out of the
+reckoning. But if I am to live&mdash;to get through the
+day's work, I must love you and I must see you.
+Later on, we may be able to meet quite often. This
+will be something to which I can look forward. All
+this has been in my mind always&mdash;ever since I first
+met you. I feel now as though every thought, every
+hour, every event of the last five months has been a
+preparation for this moment. On one point, however,
+I have never wavered. We can't desecrate our love
+by some odious law-suit. If this life were all, it would
+be different. But it isn't all. It seems as though we
+are not to be everything to each other. Yet we can
+be more than everything&mdash;we can be one existence
+even if we cannot be man and wife. We can help
+each other, we may see each other&mdash;in time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In time?&#8221; she repeated. The certainty that she
+would have to be deprived of his presence for the
+greater part, at all events, of her life came over her
+with intolerable anguish, and with it she felt a presentiment
+of the future struggle to be waged against
+the profound instinct which drew them, with all the
+strength of a river's current, toward each other.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no,&#8221; she said, &#8220;if you send me away, I shall
+die. They frighten me; they tell me lies. My
+mother is dead; my father is dead. I have no one
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>but you. You can't forsake me. You love me too
+much. I know you won't leave me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her innocence made the recklessness of her appeal
+the more compelling. The beseeching, intense affection
+of her soul transfigured her face with an almost
+unearthly sweetness. White, trembling, and despairing
+she laid her head upon his shoulder, holding him with
+both arms, and swaying from the agony of a grief
+without hope and without tears.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must try to understand,&#8221; he said, &#8220;you must
+try. You are so young&mdash;such a child, but you do
+know that we can't live together, in the same house,
+if our marriage is not valid. That would compromise
+your honour. How else can I say what I
+must say?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shouldn't mind. God would understand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But the world wouldn't understand. And one
+has to avoid the appearance of evil.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They may say anything they please. I should
+be very proud if they misjudged me for your sake.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then a thought suddenly pierced her. What
+would they say about his honour? Would the
+world misjudge him? Her weakness became strength
+under coercion of this new possibility; her cheeks
+burned at the light thrown upon her first selfish
+impulse.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;O, why have I said such things?&#8221; she said, tearing
+herself away from him, &#8220;and I used to think once
+that women like me were too bad to live. I used to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>wonder how they could be so evil. That was because
+I had never been tempted. And now I see how hard
+it is&mdash;how hard to fight. It is so easy to judge others
+when you are married to some one you love. But I
+begin to understand now&mdash;I ought to hide myself in a
+cell and pray till I die for women who are unhappy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She pushed back the soft golden hair which had
+fallen a little over her face, brightening its sorrow.
+Every feature quivered under the invisible cutting hand
+of cruel experience. In those last sharp moments of
+introspection she had gained such a knowledge of
+suffering that a fire seemed to have consumed her
+vision of life, reducing it to a frightful desert of
+eternal woe and unavailing sacrifice. Partially
+stunned, and partially blinded by misery, she felt the
+awful helplessness and pain of what is sometimes called
+the second birth, a crisis in all human development
+when the first true realisation comes that the soul is a
+stranger, a rebel, strong as eternity, weak as the flesh,
+free as the illimitable air.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;O, I do understand!&#8221; she said. &#8220;I have been
+pretending to myself that we could do impossible
+things. But I didn't want to speak my own death-warrant.
+No, don't come to me. Don't say one
+word to me. I know so well now what must be
+done. We mustn't hesitate&mdash;we mustn't think. It is
+something to know where you can't trust yourself. I
+can't trust my heart at this moment. So I must just
+depend on the things I have been taught&mdash;things
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>which I accepted, oh, so easily, when I applied them
+to other people. You must go away. You must leave
+me here with the servants. Esther is good and kind.
+Pensée chose her for me. You can leave me with
+her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She supported herself by holding, in a desperate
+grasp, the heavy silk draperies by the window. The
+image of her, leaning against the faded scarlet curtain,
+tall, fragile, yet resolute, with heaving breast, closed
+eyes, and pallid lips, remained before him night and day
+for months, and though, in the process of time, the
+vividness of the picture waned, it lived always among
+his unforgettable impressions.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must leave me,&#8221; she said again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, but I will come in the morning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will rest, you will try to sleep&mdash;for my sake.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This time she lifted her head, and, turning towards
+him, met once more the glance which she felt must
+have called her to life had she been dead.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will come in the morning?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Once more she held out her arms. He kissed her
+mouth, and eyes, and hair once more. Neither could
+speak, and both were tearless. Then she went with
+him to the door, opened it, and seemed to lead the
+way through the long corridor, down some stone steps
+to the garden. She knew that he would not leave the
+spot while she was in sight. So she walked back to
+the house alone and mounted the steps, turning at each
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>one to wave her hand. He saw her enter at last, and
+close the window. Then she fell and was helpless till
+she was found by Esther. Robert watched till the
+lights were lit, and for some hours after they were
+finally extinguished. The stars came out, and the
+moon made the languid night seem white with beauty.
+Orange walked toward the town and the small
+cemetery where Madame Bertin was buried. Then
+he threw himself by the lonely grave which held the
+one creature on earth whom he seemed to have a right
+to love without scruple and without restraint. And
+there he remained till daybreak, weeping.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p><h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>Lady Sara had written to the Duke of Marshire,
+and so fulfilled, in part, her promise to her father.
+But, while she said much that was graceful, coquettish,
+and characteristic, the Duke felt unable to regard
+it as an acceptance of his offer. She was very kind
+with that kindness which has no sort of encouragement
+in it. Among other things, she begged for
+another week on the plea that &#8220;seven days furnished
+a very short speculation when the result might possibly
+decide the whole course of her life.&#8221; In much
+anxiety, for his Grace was very much in love, he
+composed, after three hours of careful thought, a reply,
+and, having read the least tender but most sensible
+passages to his lawyer, he himself left the communication,
+together with a beautifully bound copy of
+&#8220;Lettres Choisies,&#8221; by Madame de Sévigné, at St.
+James's Square. The parcel and the missive arrived
+when the young lady was reading and re-reading two
+other letters which she had received that morning
+from the North of France. One was from Lord
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>Reckage; the other was from Pensée Fitz Rewes.
+Their respective contents ran as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">My dear Sara</span> (I love the sweeter name of Valérie:
+may I not use it sometimes?),&mdash;I shall never be able to
+get through all I have to say&mdash;no words can reflect the
+fulness of human nature in such suffering as it has been
+my privilege&mdash;and sorrow&mdash;to witness here. In doubt,
+they tell us, we must stand on the rule of authority.
+But for this principle I should find it hard to reconcile
+myself to this deplorable affair of parting two people who
+love each other, evidently, in an almost lyric sense.
+You, I know, will understand that this expression contains
+no sneer at a frame of mind altogether surpassing
+my own capacity for idealism. Are there many, or
+any of us nowadays, who feel that there are certain
+things which we must do, not do, or perish eternally?
+I have never detected this narrow, vindictive, inherently
+superstitious view in Orange. I am forced to the
+conclusion, therefore, that his truest happiness consists
+always in his submission to the Will (as he understands
+it) of God (as he understands Him). Men are like
+horses&mdash;unless they are born with staying powers in
+them, no amount of training can make them really stay.
+Robert is a born ecclesiastic&mdash;I have said so always. His
+conduct in this present crisis will be a slap in the face
+to those who insist that religion makes men timorous.
+Speaking for myself, I never entertained a moment's doubt
+of his acting in precisely the manner in which he has done;
+his worst time, however, is, alas! to come; he may have
+to wait till eternity for his recompense. That trial often
+embitters the most constant. The devil is never embarrassed,
+and where virtue is found superhuman, he takes
+every care to keep it on a sour&mdash;if ethereal&mdash;diet. You
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>will beg for less comment and more facts. Let me give
+them. Orange himself, pale, restrained, haggard but
+superb, met us at the station on our arrival. He had
+been waiting for us at the hotel; Mrs. Parflete was at
+the Villa Miraflores. The two had discussed the situation
+and parted on the mere reading of my telegram. I
+cannot say that they might have acted otherwise, but only
+that they acted as they did. There must have been,
+nevertheless, a considerable scene. The idealist driven
+into squalid actualities deserves a martyr's crown. In
+one single misfortune he suffers all the calamities of the
+human race, and in one personal horror he sees the death,
+emptiness, and corruption of all human endeavours. In
+this exaggeration, these mystics show their genius; they
+suffer too much in order that ordinary people may suffer a
+little less. Poor Orange! He is certainly fine, for, even
+if I discard the <i>mannerisms</i>, the eccentricity, the possibly
+<i>natural</i> self-sufficiency, all that is essential in his character
+remains and must remain undeniably chivalrous. It was
+an immense relief to find that he had decided, without
+suggestions on my part, on his course of conduct. I hate
+a fellow who tries to be more than friendly, and I dreaded
+making the experiment. I did venture to point out to
+him that there might be some way of annulling the
+Parflete marriage. But idealists abhor law-suits. Parflete,
+<i>not</i> being an idealist, may take some steps on his own
+account. I refrained from touching on that possibility,
+although I see much hope that way for our unhappy
+lovers. The world might cry out a little at first, but
+success justifies everything. Meanwhile, Robert and Mrs.
+Parflete have formed a resolution not to meet again for a
+year or more. After that, they hope to be on the unearthly
+terms of Laura and her Petrarch. It is magnificent, but
+is it love? I long to hear your views on the subject. I
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>have no influence over you; I wish I had. I am the
+most sincere of all your friends. The others either care
+too little for you, or too much for themselves, to run the
+risk of giving you offence. But I would risk all, to gain
+even a little&mdash;where you are concerned. May I call on
+my return? Orange comes back with me. His own instinct
+tells him that there is a suggestion of the ridiculous&mdash;to
+the mere on-looker&mdash;about this interrupted honeymoon.
+He has determined to face it out in London,
+and resume his life on the old lines. He will finish
+his volume of French History, resume his post with
+Lord Wight, and take his seat in Parliament. If he
+can succeed in living down this absurdly tragic catastrophe,
+he will achieve a notable triumph. It gives me a
+cold feeling at the heart when I think of the dreary
+heroism he must display. Nothing picturesque, nothing
+striking. He must simply baffle the scoffers by an inscrutable
+endurance. Mrs. Parflete is a beautiful creature,
+but quite a child, and therefore weedy as to figure. I consider
+her far too young for marriage in any case. She is
+only seventeen&mdash;tall, slight, with a transparent skin, and
+something actually <i>babyish</i> about the eyes. Her dignity,
+in the circumstances, was wholly admirable. Perfectly
+self-possessed. Pensée will describe the interviews far
+better than I could, so I will refer you to her for the
+details of our mission. Women, I have decided, in every
+disappointment always look for some future change of
+circumstances favourable to their wishes. No matter how
+nominal, shallow, and delusive this faith may be, it
+sustains them through the worst trials. Thus it is that
+when a woman sacrifices either her repose or the legitimate
+compensations of life to a great idea, she suffers
+far less than a man in similar conditions. The devout
+female sex drive a good bargain always: they manage
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>somehow to obtain all the sentiment they require from
+both worlds. Men cannot be happy on sentiment alone;
+hence, therefore, the dreadful hesitations, self-doubts, and
+terror which assail so frequently the interior peace of all
+men drawn, like Orange, by certain qualities of temperament,
+toward the mortification of their humanity. Laying
+aside the proud idea of the independence, vigour, and
+spiritual-mindedness which this practice is held to secure,
+there is one drawback which, with a view to that class
+who are really willing to endure many afflictions for the
+sake of any one definite advantage, ought not to be
+overlooked. The weak, under such discipline, become
+sugary: the strong grow hard. Robert has backbone;
+he is a man of ability, perhaps even genius, but there is
+always a danger that, either from the accumulation of
+scruples or the want of romantic incentive, he may throw
+up the political game and bury himself in a monastery
+where his dreams may find their sole expression in prayer.
+Another point occurs to me. Will the rank and file ever
+trust a person so far above their comprehension? The
+very word &#8220;mystical&#8221; is a word of reproach in the mouth
+of the world. People continually ask questions about
+Robert. No questions, on the other hand, are asked
+about Aumerle. Aumerle lives like the rest of us: he does
+everything he ought not to do&mdash;he surprises nobody: he
+delivers his neighbours over to the absolute power of
+accomplished facts. (A way of saying that he doesn't
+care a rap about the fellow who falls among thieves.)
+Dear Valérie! What a pleasure it is to write to you!
+I can utter my inmost thoughts. I am often suspected
+of callousness. This letter will show you how truly I feel
+the sorrows of my few real friends. I cannot bear to
+think that Orange should be beaten, as it were, by
+Parflete. A more fawning, wretched creature than
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>Parflete one never saw. I shall not be set right in my
+own idea of the Divine Justice unless this battle, at any
+rate, is to the strong. Write to me. I don't want to
+whine, but I may tell you that I am not happy.</p><p class="i8 nospaceabove">Your affectionate friend,</p><p class="i12 nospaceabove"><span class="smcap">Beauclerk R.</span></p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Sara sat on a low, embroidered stool by the fender,
+and, as she studied each line of his lordship's despatch
+(for so he regarded it), she would dip her fingers from
+time to time into a blue satin sweet-box, select, after
+due consideration, a chocolate or a sugared-almond,
+and nibble it somewhat fastidiously, with an air of
+making concessions to her human side. The exercise
+of divining the many hidden meanings in Reckage's
+epistle was certainly purely intellectual. Nevertheless,
+as she read the last sentences, she smiled with malicious
+triumph, for did they not convey a declaration of strong
+friendship in a letter designed, beyond doubt, as an
+argument in disfavour of all merely sentimental ties
+between men and women, and as a frank confession or
+his own inability to sustain any relation of the kind?
+How often had he maintained an opposite opinion&mdash;seeming
+contemptuous, indolent, invulnerable, unconscious
+of her beauty, amused rather than attracted by
+her brilliant spirit. Every instinct of the coquette,
+jealous of her own power and wretched from the sterile
+suffering of wounded pride, resented bitterly the unpardonable
+ease which he had appeared to enjoy in her
+society. Now, however, that he appealed to her
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>womanliness by a humble surrender, her better, more
+generous nature asserted itself. Some of the old
+affection she had long felt for him revived. Where
+there had once been love, a kind of desperate fidelity
+still lingered, and, although Robert Orange was the
+ideal passion of her heart, Reckage possessed a certain
+influence over her which was not the less powerful
+because it had its root and constant nourishment in
+their common memory of a childhood and first youth
+spent together in the same county, with the same
+friends and the same bores. She slipped his letter,
+with a sigh, into her belt, and turned her attention for
+the third time to Pensée's tear-stained pages.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">My darling Sara</span>,&mdash;I can scarcely write. Although
+I know the mercy and wisdom hidden in these sad events,
+my heart is heavy. The best thing is to preach resignation
+<i>till</i> you have it; and then, <i>because</i> you have it, you <i>will</i>
+preach it. Robert's love of Brigit makes little outward
+show, but I know that it is terribly real. We are never
+so near to our loved ones as when we have left them for
+God, but <i>nearness</i> of that intangible, invisible kind amounts
+to agony. At least, I think so. Robert's self-restraint is
+killing me. When we first met, he shook from head to
+foot, his very face quivered, but he said nothing. I felt
+that he would never allow any one to speak of this trouble
+or offer him the least sympathy. In the necessary discussion
+of the legal aspects of the case, he was very calm,
+and seemed rather an adviser himself than the person
+chiefly concerned. It is not easy to understand him; yet
+I appreciate reserve. If everybody could understand us,
+what joy would there be in discovering our souls to those
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>whom we love! Brigit has shut herself up in a room.
+She cries incessantly (she is so young) and is dreadfully
+changed. She wishes to go to Paris&mdash;for she has some
+idea of resuming her musical studies. Her voice is one of
+her great gifts, yet I can't imagine any one singing in such
+a tortured state of mind. I don't like to say that actually
+I fear for her reason, but she has, I see, far more heart, poor
+child, than I ever supposed. How wrong it is to attempt
+any judgment or estimate of another person's capacity for
+suffering! She is in a pitiable condition, unnaturally
+patient in a sense&mdash;for it is patience on the rack. Our
+Lord dreaded suffering and even feared it. Of course,
+one might easily say that an unhappy love affair is very
+common, that it is almost profane to compare such an ordinary
+trouble with the serious, exceptional trials of life.
+But although Lord Byron declared that &#8220;man's love was of
+man's life a thing apart,&#8221; his own poems and his own
+career gave the lie absolutely to the statement (indeed, I
+am often tempted to believe that women exhibit, on the
+whole, greater strength of will in their affections than men).
+I must say, therefore, that the spectacle of a bride and
+bridegroom, devoted to each other, yet separated on their
+very wedding day, is quite as serious and sorrowful as (say)
+the death of a parent, or the loss of a child, or any other
+melancholy occurrence of everyday life. And what is worse,
+an atmosphere of <i>scandal</i> penetrates this story&mdash;making it
+most shocking to all refined minds, and peculiarly so to
+temperaments of extraordinary delicacy. It will take
+every atom of <i>my</i> courage and constant prayers to bear it
+<i>for</i> them. What must it be, therefore, to themselves?
+I tremble at the appalling things in future for us. As for
+my uncle, I dare not read his letter yet. He must be so
+upset, so <i>horrified</i>. I have never before been called on for
+such a proof of friendship. It is quite dreadful to be
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>mixed up in a kind of <i>cause célèbre</i>. The great justice of
+God is always mixed with great hardships, and is often
+executed by those worthy neither of confidence nor respect.
+I am sure that we shall all have to go through many
+humiliations before this matter is settled. I know, darling,
+that <i>you</i> will say I am making a rather narrow-minded fuss.
+But I do hate publicity, and if it doesn't kill Robert outright,
+it will have some shattering effect upon his character
+and his health. Really, I am not thinking so much of
+myself. Your own <i>reckless</i> bravery, however, would quail
+a little, I fancy, at the idea of having your most intimate
+feelings called out from the housetops and discussed in
+the streets. And remember, please, that Robert is a
+dreamer&mdash;a poet. Of course, in every <i>active</i> expedition
+there must be some few idealistic, Quixotic souls who have
+to suffer vicariously for the rest. He is such an one.
+But that sort of feeling of soreness which comes from the
+sense of martyrdom is not quite the same as a raw wound
+on one's own <i>personal</i> score. I do hope I am clear. I
+try to look on the bright side, but there are days when
+the unseen world and its glorious realities become dubious.
+These are trials of faith, I know. If one could be wise,
+one would keep silent at such times. Now, dearest Sara,
+good-night.</p><p class="i8 nospaceabove">Yours ever lovingly,</p><p class="i12 nospaceabove"><span class="smcap">Pensée</span>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p><h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+
+
+<p>Lord Garrow and Lady Sara left town the next day
+for a short visit at Kemmerstone Park, the seat of
+Arabella, Marchioness of Churleigh. Lady Churleigh
+had a favourite nephew for whom she was extremely
+anxious &#8220;to do something.&#8221; Vague by nature, she
+had never been able to define her ambition in more
+precise terms, but, as she entertained influential people
+only, it was considered, in many circles, that she over-did
+her civilities toward the mammon of unrighteousness.
+Those who were not invited called her heartless;
+those who accepted her hospitality found fault
+with her brains. All praised her cook, and no one
+ever thought of her nephew. It was known that she
+could not leave him her money. Every pair of eyes
+read his name&mdash;Lord Douglas Hendlesham&mdash;on his
+bedroom door at the top of the grand staircase, and
+visitors soon learnt to associate this advertisement with
+a pale, haughty young man who appeared occasionally
+at meals, or sometimes listened disdainfully to the
+music after dinner in the saloon. Distinguished
+persons, staying at Kemmerstone for the first time,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>would ask a fellow-guest, &#8220;Who is the melancholy
+youth who looks so ill?&#8221; &#8220;That,&#8221; they would be
+told, &#8220;is Douglas Hendlesham, I <i>think</i>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Disraeli called him &#8220;a personified hallucination.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The party, on this particular occasion, consisted of
+Agnes Carillon (who attracted unusual attention as
+the <i>fiancée</i> of Lord Reckage), the Bishop of Hadley
+(her father), the Duke and Duchess of Pevensey,
+Charles Aumerle, and Mr. Disraeli. Lord Garrow
+lost no time in conveying his version of the Orange
+scandal to the ex-Minister's ears. It was a damp afternoon,
+and the two gentlemen marched up and down
+the smoking-room together, talking so earnestly that
+the Duke (to his rage) dared not interrupt them, and
+drove out instead with his Duchess and Lady Churleigh&mdash;who
+bored him beyond sleep. Disraeli had been
+opposed, from the first, to Robert's marriage with
+Mrs. Parflete, for, as other diplomatists, he preferred
+his own plans before those of Providence, and he had
+wished to see his young friend wisely united to the
+unexceptionable Viscountess Fitz Rewes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But,&#8221; he observed, shrugging his shoulders, &#8220;to
+talk expediency is not a safe way of opening the game
+with Orange. Many men have ability, few have
+genius, but fewer still have character. Orange has a
+rectangular will and an indomitable character. <i>Character</i>
+is the rarest thing in England.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Garrow stiffened his back.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have been educated in a contrary belief,&#8221; said
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>he. &#8220;Our national character is our dearest possession.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is because it is so rare. You mistake your
+education for your experience&mdash;a common error. By
+character I mean that remnant of a man's life which
+is probably stronger than death, and ought to be
+stronger than worldly considerations.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Far be it from me to go into such subtleties,&#8221;
+returned his lordship, stealing a glance at Disraeli's
+powerful face. &#8220;Your friend, at all events, has done
+for himself now. His merits seem to be more interesting
+than respectable, and this marriage has furnished
+conversation for the whole town&mdash;chiefly because
+Beauclerk Reckage was his best man. One cannot
+help feeling sorry for him, but it is certainly a very
+bad thing. How will he justify his rash conduct?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He may think it unwise to be detailed in self-justification.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is all well enough, and so far I am with you.
+In such circumstances, one doesn't want to tell a lie,
+and yet one doesn't want to tell the truth.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, there are many duties and difficulties in
+life: there is but one obligation&mdash;courage.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He fixed his eyes on the fire blazing in the grate,
+and repeated the word with great emphasis&mdash;&#8220;Courage!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He will need it. An unpleasant suggestion has
+been put forward by the lawyers.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Divorce?&#8221; said Disraeli.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A Bishop was telling me the other day that
+when one attacks the principle of divorce one forgets
+that it was originally a Divine institution! But
+I agree with you&mdash;it is unpleasant. You will find that
+Orange won't hear of such a course. I see great
+dangers ahead for him, but I see no honourable way of
+avoiding them. When a man, careless of danger, unconcerned
+with profit, takes up the cause of God
+against the world, others may not follow, but they
+must admire him. Abstract sentiments of virtue do
+not charm me. Orange is a Roman Catholic, however,
+and therefore a practical idealist. The practical
+idealists of England are the Dissenters&mdash;mostly the
+Methodists. John Wesley was considered crack-brained
+by his contemporaries at Oxford; he was a
+greater mystic, in several ways, than Newman, but he
+was not such a poet.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know nothing about Dissenters and that class.
+As for the Catholics&mdash;the few I am acquainted with
+are civil and sensible.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is true. Most of the English Catholics
+imagine that St. Peter's and the Vatican can be maintained
+on the policy of a parish church in Mayfair!
+But one moment. There is Aumerle in the hall with
+a telegram. I wonder if he has any fresh news about
+poor Derby.&#8221;<i>[Lord Derby was then lying at the point of death.]</i></p>
+
+<p>With this unimpeachable excuse he left his noble
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>companion, who, more certain than ever that Disraeli
+could never be in touch with the upper classes of
+England, retired to his own room and wrote down in
+a journal all he could remember of their conversation.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Sara, meanwhile, had invited Agnes Carillon
+to walk through the famous gardens of Kemmerstone,
+and, as each girl was anxious to study the other, they
+started on the expedition in that high pitch of nervous
+excitement and generous animosity which one may
+detect in splendid rivals, or even in formal allies.
+Sara dressed more richly than was the fashion at that
+time among English unmarried ladies. Her furs,
+velvets, laces and jewels were referred to an Asiatic,
+barbaric love of display. Agnes, therefore, who had
+attired herself, in protest, even more plainly than
+usual, was a little taken aback to find her remarkable
+acquaintance in brown cashmere, a cloth jacket, and a
+severe felt hat of the Tyrolean shape, which, poised
+upon her chignon, tilted far over her fine blue eyes.
+Both women, however, were so young and handsome
+that even the trying fashions of the period could not
+destroy their brilliant appearance. The chagrin of the
+one and the ironical triumph of the other soon gave
+way to more generous feelings. Each took her companion's
+measure with a swift, intelligent, respectful
+glance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shall we need umbrellas?&#8221; said Agnes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have nothing on that will spoil,&#8221; replied Sara,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>&#8220;but I am a little anxious about your shoes. Are
+they thick enough?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Carillon was above many vanities; she left
+her facial beauty to take care of itself. But her feet
+were uncommonly well moulded, and she was careful
+not to disguise them in the hideous porpoise-hide
+boots with flat soles and no instep which found favour
+with her generation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They look very nice,&#8221; continued Sara, &#8220;and I
+really think they are worth a slight cold. Take my
+arm, for then we can walk better. How nobly Lord
+Reckage has behaved in this dreadful affair of Robert
+Orange! You won't think me strange for introducing
+the subject at once? It must be on both our minds,
+for you are naturally thinking of Reckage, and I am
+thinking of dear Pensée.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Beauclerk is very fond of Mr. Orange.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He must be. Do notice the autumn tint on those
+beech-trees. How I envy artists&mdash;although it is not
+their business to contend with Nature. The great
+vice of the present day is <i>bravura</i>&mdash;an attempt to do
+something beyond the truth. That reminds me&mdash;how
+does the portrait grow? David Rennes is extremely
+clever.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Beauclerk admires his work. He considers him
+finer than Millais.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What does he think of the portrait?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He hasn't seen it yet. My people are much
+pleased with the likeness. I find it flattering.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Indeed!&#8221; said Sara thoughtfully. &#8220;Did you
+give him many sittings?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He knows my face pretty well. We are acquaintances
+of some years' standing. Papa has a high
+opinion of him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am no judge. Women can know so little about
+men.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't agree with you there. They are far more
+conventional than we are. They are trained in
+batches, thousands are of one pattern&mdash;especially in
+society. But each woman has an individual bringing-up.
+She is influenced by a foreign governess, or
+her mother, or her nurse. This must give every girl
+peculiar personal views of everything. That is why
+men find us hard to understand. We don't understand
+each other; we suspect each other: we have
+no sense of comradeship.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps you are right,&#8221; said Agnes, rather sadly.
+&#8220;Yet our troubles all seem to arise from the fact that
+we cannot manage men. It matters very little really
+whether we can manage women. With women,
+one need only be natural, straightforward, and unselfish.
+You can't come to grief that way. But with
+men, it is almost impossible to be quite natural. As
+for being straightforward, don't they misconstrue our
+words continually? And when one tries to be unselfish,
+they accuse one of hardness, coldness, and
+everything most contrary to one's feelings. Of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>course,&#8221; she added quickly, &#8220;I speak from observation.
+I have nothing to complain of myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course not. Neither have I. I have grown
+up with most of my men friends. I had no mother,
+and I exhausted dozens of governesses and masters,
+I am sure I was troublesome, but I had an instinctive
+horror of becoming narrow-minded and getting into a
+groove. My English relations bored me. My foreign
+ones made my dear papa jealous and uncomfortable.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then you liked them?&#8221; said Agnes at once.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Enormously. You see, I am always an alien
+among English people.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Agnes, following an instinct of kindness, pressed
+her arm and murmured, &#8220;No, no.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, my dear, yes. And this is why I am
+devoted to Mr. Disraeli, and so much interested in
+Robert Orange. We three are citizens of the
+world.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But English people who have lived, for any length
+of time, abroad are quite as sensible and tolerant
+as you are. Take Mr. Rennes, of whom we are
+just speaking.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To be sure. But artists and poets are like stars&mdash;they
+belong to no land. A strictly national painter
+or a strictly national poet is bound to be parochial&mdash;a
+kind of village pump. And you may write inscriptions
+all over him, and build monuments above
+him, but he remains a pump by a local spring.
+David Rennes is a genius.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am glad you think so,&#8221; said Agnes, with
+flushing cheeks. &#8220;I wonder whether he will ever be
+an Academician?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Would you feel more sure of his gifts&mdash;in that
+case?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was a slight note of sarcasm in the question.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is stupid of me, I know,&#8221; said Agnes frankly,
+&#8220;but one can't help feeling rather shy until one's
+opinions are officially endorsed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How British!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose it is my bringing-up. It sounds very
+feeble. I often feel that if I once began&mdash;really
+began&mdash;to think for myself I wouldn't stick at anything.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is British, too,&#8221; said Sara, laughing. &#8220;You
+are a true <i>Jane</i> Bull! But as you are going to marry
+a public man, that is as well. Your life will have
+many absorbing interests.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh yes,&#8221; returned Agnes; &#8220;I hope to help
+Beauclerk in his constituency, and with the members
+of his Association.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So far as I can make out they are a weak, selfish
+lot, but these qualities do not affect the question of his
+duties toward them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You express, better than I could, my own
+feeling. I fear they don't always appreciate his
+motives.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Beauclerk,&#8221; said Sara slowly, &#8220;is impulsive. He
+is never afraid of changing his mind. Many people
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>are called firm merely because they haven't the moral
+courage to own their second thoughts.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Agnes drew a long sigh, slackened her pace, and
+stood looking at the strange, autumnal lights in the
+sky, the martins flying over the paddocks toward the
+wood, and the crescent moon which already shone out
+above them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose it does mean lack of courage, half the
+time,&#8221; she said at last; &#8220;and yet how disastrous it
+is to wonder about the wisdom of any decision once
+arrived at, of any step once taken! I daresay every
+one shrinks a little at first from the responsibility of
+undertaking another person's happiness.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not every one,&#8221; replied Sara; &#8220;the generous
+ones only.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have known Beauclerk ever since he was a
+boy, haven't you?&#8221; asked Agnes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. He was such a handsome lad, and he has
+always been the same.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am devoted to him,&#8221; said Agnes. &#8220;I am proud
+to think that he has chosen me for his wife. But
+one thought is perpetually coming up in my mind:
+Shall I be able to make him happy? A girl, as a rule,
+seems to believe that she can make a man happy
+merely by loving him. Again and again friends of
+mine have married in this idea. And the hope
+seldom answers.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She spoke very quietly, yet there was great feeling,
+even great bitterness in her tone. She was thinking
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>of David Rennes. Sara had a curious magnetism
+which attracted all those with whom she came into
+friendly relations. Being imaginative, though never
+inquisitive, her quick sympathies rendered the most
+trivial interchange of ideas an emotional exercise.
+This power, which would have made her a successful
+actress, found its usual outlet in her pianoforte
+playing, which affected her hearers as only
+extraordinary nervous and passionate force can affect
+people. She had neither the patience nor the
+sternness of mental quality which is required in a
+creative genius: the little songs and poems which
+she sometimes composed were insipid to an astonishing
+degree. Hers were the executant's gifts,
+and the fascination which she exerted over men and
+women depended wholly on the natural charm of a
+temperament made up of fire and honey. Agnes
+had always regarded Lady Sara as an odd but chivalrous
+girl. The stories told in society about her
+eccentric tastes, sayings, and doings were never to her
+heart's discredit, no matter how much they puzzled, or
+dismayed, the conventional set into which she had
+been born. It was felt that she could be trusted, and,
+although many were afraid of her brains, no one had
+ever known her to betray a confidence, to injure
+another woman's reputation, to show the least spite,
+or to insist upon an undue share of men's attention.
+The sex may, and do, pardon the first three sins, but the
+last has yet to find its atoning virtue. All declared
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>that Sara, with many shortcomings, was neither a
+poacher nor a grabber. Girls consulted her in their
+love troubles, and not a few owed their marriages to
+her wise arbitration. She had the gypsy's spell.
+Thus it happened, therefore, that Agnes, who was
+habitually reserved, found herself thinking aloud in
+the presence of this mysterious but not hostile
+personality.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When does Beauclerk return from the North of
+France?&#8221; asked Sara.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He is coming back with Mr. Orange next
+Wednesday. I had a letter this morning.&#8221; Her
+voice grew husky, and with evident agitation she
+halted once more.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know Beauclerk so well,&#8221; she said at last,
+&#8220;that I want to ask you something, and you must
+answer me truly&mdash;without the least dread of giving
+offence&mdash;because a great deal may depend on what
+you tell me. Do you think he seems altogether
+settled in his mind?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sara guessed, from the nature of the question,
+that the truth in this case would be a relief&mdash;not a
+blow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He doesn't seem quite himself&mdash;if you understand
+me,&#8221; she said, without hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>Agnes caught her arm a little more closely and
+walked with a lighter step.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't think we love each other sufficiently for
+marriage,&#8221; she exclaimed; &#8220;his last letter was so
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>affectionate and so full of kindness that it brought
+tears to my eyes. I saw the effort under it all. We
+are making a tragic mistake. We drifted into it.
+We were such good friends, and we felt, I daresay,
+that it was our duty to love each other. His family
+were pleased and so were mine. We seem to have
+pleased everybody except ourselves. Not that I ever
+expected the joy and stuff, and inward feelings which
+one reads of. I am too sensible for that. But I wanted
+to feel <i>established</i>&mdash;whereas we are both, in reality,
+rather upset. I am sure of this.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps when you see each other&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Our letters are far more satisfactory than our
+meetings. I know he is fond of me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You couldn't doubt that. It is worship.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can say, at any rate, that I am so sure of his
+affection that it gives me no pain&mdash;not the least&mdash;to
+miss the&mdash;the other quality.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My dear, you are not in love with him, or you
+couldn't be so resigned.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose you are right. I have never told him
+that I loved him. He has never asked me. Perhaps
+he took it for granted. As for me, I thought that
+the respect and esteem I felt would do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sara shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not for us. We are different, I know, but we
+have hearts. We can suffer, we can endure, we can
+be resigned, we can be everything except uncertain,
+or luke-warm. Isn't that true?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said Agnes, and she laughed a little. &#8220;It
+isn't my way,&#8221; she went on, &#8220;to talk like this about
+myself. Yet I can't help seeing that all this keeping
+silence, and disguising facts from one's own reason,
+is actually weak. I don't want to be weak. It isn't
+English. I don't want to be supine. That isn't
+English either. I want to be just and square all round&mdash;in
+my dealings with others and in my dealings with
+my own conscience. Papa has always taught us
+a great deal about individual liberty, and freedom
+of will. I am beginning to wonder what liberty
+means.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That's the first step toward a great change.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The young girl set her lips, and looked steadfastly
+before her, as though she would pierce the gathering
+twilight with her bright and candid eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I daresay you are right. Anyhow, our talk has
+been a help. When I may seem to lack courage, it
+is because I lack conviction. Once convinced, I can
+depend upon myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When did these ideas come to you?&#8221; asked
+Sara.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They have been coming for some time. I have
+been abroad a good deal, and I have been meeting
+people who make opinions. I never gave in when I
+was with them, but I must have been influenced.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The slight emphasis on the words <i>people</i> and <i>them</i>
+was too studied to escape Sara's trained hearing. She
+knew the force of a woman's rhetorical plural.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I believe you have your convictions now, at this
+moment,&#8221; she said quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No&mdash;not in the final shape.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you can predict the final shape?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One more day and then I will decide irrevocably.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why do you hesitate?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For this reason&mdash;I must grieve papa and disappoint
+my mother.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Still, both these things have to be done. Some of
+the best men have been obliged to displease their
+parents in choosing a vocation. Women, in their
+marriages, are often driven to the same sad straits.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know, but the prospect is most painful. I feel
+I could bear my own disappointment far better than
+I could bear theirs. Surely you understand?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Too well.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They had now reached the house, and Agnes's
+habitual manner at once re-asserted itself. Her voice,
+which had many rich notes, fell into the one unchanging
+tone she used in ordinary conversation.
+Her countenance seemed as placid as a pink geranium
+under glass.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you for a very pleasant walk,&#8221; she said to
+Sara. &#8220;I sha'n't forget it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nor I. And, please, after this, always call me
+Sara. And may I call you Agnes? We have just
+time now to write a few letters before dinner.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+
+
+<p>Robert, accompanied by Lord Reckage, arrived in
+London the following Wednesday. Pensée and Brigit
+went from St. Malo to Paris, where the unhappy girl
+hoped to enter the Conservatoire. All had been
+arranged by Robert himself, and he had shown a
+calmness during the ordeal which might have deceived
+his two friends had they been even a little insincere
+themselves or a shade less fond. His Journal at that
+period contains two entries, however, which show that
+neither Lady Fitz Rewes nor Reckage were wrong in
+fearing he had received a mortal blow which no earthly
+influence could make endurable.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p><i>Oct., 1869.</i>&mdash;I am once more at Almouth House.
+Beauclerk's consideration for me is almost more than I can
+bear. The rest is not borne. If it were not cowardly, I
+would go away alone, and brood at my leisure and yield to
+the appalling yet all but irresistible wretchedness which
+calls me, which I actually crave. An effort not to depress
+or discourage others may be right and my duty. I cannot
+be sure of this. Sometimes I feel as though it would be
+wiser to meet the dark hours and make acquaintance
+with them.... And what is to become of her? The
+longing to see her&mdash;even in the distance....</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p>
+<p>To-night I talked with Reckage about his Bond of
+Association. Most of the members feel toward him that
+insipid kind of hatred which passes for friendship in public
+life. If he were naturally observant, he would see this;
+if he were given at all to self-doubt, he would feel it.
+But his way is to regard most men as ill-mannered and
+well-meaning.</p>
+
+<p><i>Tuesday.</i>&mdash;Another day. I begin to see that I have
+been called to make every sacrifice&mdash;marriage, ambition,
+happiness, all must be abandoned: abandoned while I live,
+not after I have made myself, by years of self-discipline,
+indifferent to such considerations.... But for its piety,
+the <i>Imitation</i> is, I think, the most pessimistic book in the
+world. The <i>Exercises</i> of St. Ignatius (perhaps because he
+was a saint) produce quite an opposite effect upon me;
+they exhort us to hope, action, courage. They make one
+a citizen of both worlds. Merely to read him is a campaign
+in the open air against a worthy foe. I defy any
+man to go through the <i>Exercises</i> with his whole heart, and
+even whine again. I have resolved to write willingly no
+more, to speak willingly no more, on the subject of my
+marriage. That page is turned for ever: there shall be no
+glancing back. Moods inevitably must come; spasms of
+despair are as little tractable as spasms of physical pain.
+But I can at least keep silent about their true cause. The
+first step toward the cure of egoism is to lock away one's
+Journal. I shall add no more to this till I have mastered
+my present state. And I wonder what that mastery will
+mean? Are some victories better lost?</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The Journal ends abruptly at this point, and no
+more was added that year. His letter to Lord Wight
+has been preserved because his lordship sent it to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>Pensée in some anger, begging her to explain such
+callousness. Pensée, being a woman, brought a
+gentler understanding to the inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don't you see,&#8221; she said, &#8220;that his heart is
+broken?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see,&#8221; returned his lordship drily, &#8220;he is a born
+R. C. ecclesiastic. Religious instinct is the ruling
+passion of Orange. That poor young woman&mdash;with
+whom he is madly in love&mdash;was merely an accident of
+his career. She has affected his character&mdash;yes. I
+suppose Cardinal Manning's wife had her influence in
+her day. But Robert will work better than ever after
+this. Whereas look at me, my dear. When I lost
+Sybil, I was completely done for. I tried to set up for
+myself, but I couldn't. I hope I am a Christian; God
+forbid that I should quarrel with His will. Yet I
+cannot think I am a better man for my poor darling's
+death. Don't talk to me. Don't say anything.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The letter in question ran as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="i20"><span class="smcap">Almouth House</span>.</p><p class="nospaceabove"><span class="smcap">My dear Lord Wight</span>,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>The messages which you have sent by Lady Fitz Rewes
+have helped me where I most needed assistance. When I
+tell you this, it would be more possible for you to imagine
+my gratitude than for me to express it&mdash;at least, in words,
+and for that matter I can't see how any act of mine could
+prove even a fraction of it. Shall I resume my work on
+the 28th? I have had to learn that one does not always
+choose one's vocation. It is sometimes chosen for us. May
+I beg you, as one more favour, never to talk to me about
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>the events of the last fortnight? In one sense I am able&mdash;too
+able&mdash;to discuss them. This is why I must not indulge
+myself. In times to come I may find it, perhaps, a certain
+effort to speak of it all. Then I will tell you gladly anything
+your kindness may seek to know. But just now it is
+my duty to keep silent. One cannot fight the wild beasts,
+and describe them fairly, at the same hour. Either they
+seem more formidable than they are, or they are even more
+terrible than they seem. But the order has gone forth&mdash;&#8220;Face
+them.&#8221;</p><p class="i8 nospaceabove">Your affectionate and grateful,</p><p class="i12 nospaceabove"><span class="smcap">Robert</span> de <span class="smcap">H. Orange</span>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Robert himself, after he had written this final letter,
+decided to reply in person to a note which he had
+received that morning from Lady Sara. He walked to
+St. James's Square wondering, without much interest,
+whether Fate would have her absent or at home.
+As a matter of fact, she had felt a presentiment of his
+call, and he found her, beautifully dressed in violet tints,
+copying some Mass music in the drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I hoped you would come,&#8221; she said, when the
+servant had closed the door. &#8220;Nothing else could
+have shown me that you didn't mind my writing. I
+had to write. I wrote badly, but indeed I understood.
+It takes an eternity to sound the infinite. We won't
+talk of you: we can talk about other people. Ask
+me what I have been doing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>All this time she held his hand, but in such sisterly,
+kind fashion, that he felt more at ease with her than
+it was ever possible to be with Pensée, who was timid,
+and therefore disturbing.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you accepted Marshire?&#8221; he asked at
+once.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; she said, blushing; &#8220;I do not love him
+sufficiently to marry him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How is this?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know that I always fly from important
+mediocrities. You think that sounds heartless. He
+has been so kind to me. But I love as I must&mdash;not
+as I ought. My dear friend, all the trouble in life is
+due to forced affection. Look at Beauclerk! Think
+of Agnes Carillon! What fiery fierceness of sorrow
+in both their hearts! Papa and I were at Lady Churleigh's
+last Sunday. Agnes was there, looking, believe
+me, lovely. No portrait does her justice. One finds
+marvellous beauty, now and again, in the middle
+classes. She is an exquisite <i>bourgeoise</i>. She is not
+clever enough to feel bored; she is too well brought up
+to be fascinating; too handsome to insist on homage.
+Plain women are exacting and capricious&mdash;they make
+themselves <i>worth while</i>. <i>Il faut se faire valoir!</i> That
+is why a man will often adore an ugly woman for ever,
+whereas an Agnes&mdash;an Agnes&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>She paused, gave him a glance, and laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Does Beauclerk adore Agnes?&#8221; said she.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can one man judge another in these questions?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If neither are hypocrites&mdash;yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As for conscious hypocrisy, a priest of great experience
+once told me that in twenty years he had met
+but one deliberate hypocrite. You must be less
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>cynical. Men, however, don't watch each other
+closely as a rule in sentimental matters.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If that is a reproof, I thank you for it,&#8221; she answered.
+&#8220;It may do me good. This wayward soul
+of mine is all wrong. Be patient with me. I can't
+help thinking that most men living are, at the bottom,
+wholly selfish and truly miserable.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very few people are truly miserable. If this were
+not the case, the world and all creatures must have
+perished long ago.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I can tell you of three wretches at any
+rate.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Three&mdash;against the world and all the planets and
+heaven?&#8221; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. They are Beauclerk, and Agnes and I.
+We want time and space annihilated in order that we
+may be happy. We must be humorous studies to
+those looking on, but we are, nevertheless, utterly
+desperate. This is true. Scold me now&mdash;if you can.
+Tell me what is to become of us&mdash;if you dare.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She stood up. She clenched her small hands, set
+her lips, and grew so pale that the pearls around her
+neck seemed dark.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tell me what is to become of us&mdash;if you dare,&#8221;
+she repeated, &#8220;because mischief is certain. You
+belong to those who endure and fight good fights,
+and keep the faith. Beauclerk and I are of another
+order altogether. We suffer without endurance, we
+fight without winning, and the little faith we have is
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>so little that it is taken away from us. As for Agnes&mdash;wait!
+She is encased, at present, in conventionalities.
+But she is gradually getting rid of these wrappings
+and trappings. She will surprise you all yet.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can believe that. She is a woman, and a good
+one. All the surprising, inconceivable things are done
+by good women.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And most of the wicked things, too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Possibly.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me tell you then that, if it is possible in the
+circumstances, Agnes ought to give Beauclerk his
+release. It would be no more than his right to
+demand this.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A right is something independent of circumstances,
+and paramount to them. But when you once talk
+of your rights and your wrongs in love, all love is
+gone, or going. I hope it hasn't come to that&mdash;with
+Reckage!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have great knowledge of him and know how
+to press it home when you choose. Can't you see,
+plainly enough, that he is on the road to disaster?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No. One may easily be a long way from happiness
+and still be nowhere near disaster,&#8221; he said,
+checking a deep sigh. &#8220;Of course, if he feels that
+he cannot in honour remain in his present situation,
+he must act at once. Men who are desirous to satisfy
+all their friends soon become irresolute on every occasion.
+That is all I shall say upon the subject, and
+this, perhaps, may be saying more than I ought.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Another reproof! So be it. But I am thinking
+of his contentment, and you are thinking of his duty.
+What is duty? It generally means that which your
+acquaintances&mdash;for no reason and without warrant&mdash;expect
+of you. I take a larger view.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;People of Beauclerk's stamp are so constituted
+that they can rarely find contentment by defying a
+general opinion.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But Agnes is not a pretty, crying, fluttering
+creature who would excite compassion. Who, for
+instance, could jilt Pensée? I don't wish Beauclerk
+to jilt anybody, however. I want Agnes to take the
+step.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because he will break his heart and die&mdash;if she
+doesn't. There!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then it will be your fault.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Orange!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know it, and I mean it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She smiled at him and shrugged her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you think I would ever take the commonplace
+course?&#8221; she said proudly. &#8220;I did hope that
+you could appreciate motives for which the world at
+large is slow enough to give credit. Beauclerk is
+weak, attractive, and in perplexity; I search my heart
+again and again, and I find nothing but friendship there&mdash;for
+him. I am careful of every word I speak, and
+every look, and every thought. My interest is
+unselfish. But,&#8221; she added, &#8220;what can any of us
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>do, after all, toward raising either dead bodies or
+dead souls?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dead souls?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Beauclerk might have been something
+once; he is still very clever; he will soon be a man
+for occasional addresses. I believe in him, you see.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She was smiling, yet almost in tears, and her voice
+trembled. He wished to speak, if only to break the
+sudden, oppressive silence which followed her last
+words; but neither of them could find a thought to
+offer. They sat facing each other, lost in following
+out unutterable conjectures, fancies, and doubts, each
+painfully aware of a certain mystery, each filled with
+a sure premonition of troubles to come.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I could almost pray,&#8221; she exclaimed at last, &#8220;that
+you didn't trust him. Because&mdash;in spite of himself&mdash;he
+must disappoint every one. He is not a deliberate
+traitor&mdash;but a born one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As Sara spoke the double doors were thrown open.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Reckage was announced.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Beauclerk!&#8221; she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>His lordship, self-absorbed, did not perceive her
+confusion&mdash;which she was too young to dissemble
+perfectly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The man told me that you were here,&#8221; he said,
+addressing Orange and seating himself by Sara. &#8220;I
+call this luck&mdash;finding you both together. I have
+just been with my Committee. They always expect
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>the worst of me now, and they are always cheerful in
+the expectation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sara began to disentangle some silk fringe on her
+skirt; she did not look up, and she offered no comment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is the matter now?&#8221; asked Robert.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They want to get rid of me. You see, one might
+practise very considerably on the credulity of the
+members if one chose, and these fellows on the
+Executive wish me to take a cautious line with regard
+to Dr. Temple's nomination.<i>[Mr. Gladstone's nomination of Dr. Temple to the See of Exeter.]</i> It is all very well for
+Pusey to write, &#8216;Do you prefer your party to Almighty
+God and to the souls of men?&#8217; But, as Aumerle says,
+Pusey is not in the House of Commons. An attack on
+Temple will be highly unpopular. We have sounded
+opinion in various quarters, and we receive the
+unanimous reply&mdash;&#8216;Have nothing to do with it.&#8217;
+There is a feeling in the clubs, too, that vapid, colourless
+orthodoxy is not wanted in England. Healthy
+disagreement within limits suits us. The question is,
+then: Ought I to go against this strong tide and
+get myself disliked?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said Sara at once.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You think so?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Beyond a doubt.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course,&#8221; said his lordship, readily enough, &#8220;a
+combination in defence of any article of the faith is
+a noble thing. My original idea was to get up a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>combination of High and Low and Broad Churchmen,
+and make a stand on purely legal grounds. For
+instance, how can the bishops, <i>without previous
+explanation</i>, consecrate one lying under the censure
+of their House? That is all. There is nothing
+offensive in that. We merely ask for an explanation:
+we offer no judgment: we state no prejudice. If Dr.
+Temple intends to withdraw his paper from <i>Essays and
+Reviews</i>&mdash;well and good. Personally, he bears the
+highest character. He would be, in many ways, an
+acquisition to the Church. But does he himself
+believe in the Church as a Divine institution&mdash;mark
+you, a <i>Divine</i> institution? Neither the <i>Outs</i> nor the
+<i>Ins</i>, I should think, could object to this question.
+Aumerle and the Executive, however, are dead against
+any proceedings at all. They think we ought to give
+our Association a more secular character. They say
+we are hampered by too vehement a religious tone.
+They say that broad Christian principles are more
+workable. Besides, the word Christian always attracts
+the Nonconformists in spite of themselves. They are
+bound to support you if you stick to the line of a
+believer in Christ&mdash;irrespective of particular doctrines.
+And so on and so on. I prefer something more hard
+and fast myself. Yet they may be right. One must
+go with the times.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He shifted his chair several times during this speech,
+looking first at Orange and then at Sara for encouragement.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Your Executive are poor creatures,&#8221; said Sara,
+with a curling lip; &#8220;your weak theologians have
+become flabby politicians&mdash;their one rule of action
+is to avoid everything which demands even the
+possibility of self-sacrifice or adverse criticism.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is most unfair,&#8221; said Reckage hotly. &#8220;One
+must see where one is going.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The world,&#8221; said Sara, &#8220;in the long run, despises
+those who pander to it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, but it is in the <i>long</i> run, and no mistake!
+What a fellow you are, Robert! Why don't
+you suggest something? Are you trying to find the
+civilest thing you can say of the performance?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is the system which you must attack in the
+present difficulty. The system is at fault&mdash;not Dr.
+Temple,&#8221; said Robert.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No other system can be now looked to as a
+substitute,&#8221; answered Reckage impatiently. &#8220;The
+thing cannot be done away now, the danger is too near.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Exactly. The English can never deal with
+systems or ideas. They can only attack individuals&mdash;you
+depend in a crisis on the passions of men, never
+on their reason. Whereas if you overhauled their
+reason, worked it, and trained it, the passions, at the
+critical moment, would be roused with better effect,
+and would be properly organised. Organised passions
+are what you need for a strong public movement.
+Whirling emotions in contrary currents are utterly
+futile.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I daresay. I hoped we might make such efforts
+as to fix a lasting impression on both Houses that the
+State appointment of bishops, coupled with the farce
+of a <i>congé d'élire</i>, is rank blasphemy. This outrage on
+good taste ought to occupy the attention of every
+man. It is quite enough to fill the minds of all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It won't,&#8221; said Robert. &#8220;You must remember
+that whatever strikes the mind of an average man,
+as the result of his own observation and discovery,
+makes always the strongest impression upon him.
+Now the average man is not engaged in studying
+Church government. He will not thank you for
+calling his attention to it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then what do you want Beauclerk to do?&#8221;
+asked Sara.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He must fight just the same, of course. I merely
+wish him to see what he has to encounter. By
+dragging the clergy into the movement you make
+it savour&mdash;to the popular intelligence&mdash;of professional
+jealousy. By making Dr. Temple your example,
+you render those who respect his character powerless
+to express their opinion. Given the system, he is
+unquestionably the fittest man to profit by it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Reckage took many turns round the room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The personal character of Dean Ethbin,&#8221; he said,
+at last, &#8220;is not exactly square. He acts a trimming part.
+But now and again he sums up a situation. He says
+that the English people do not choose to keep up an
+Established Church which shall be independent of its
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>Sovereign and Legislature. I have seen most of the
+bishops and archdeacons. They are against Temple;
+they say very little about the system. Even men
+with nothing to gain by it,&#8221; he added, ingenuously,
+&#8220;don't appear to criticise it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For all that, the Church must deliver her conscience
+at whatever risk. She ought to assert her will&mdash;even
+against her interest&mdash;in order to show England
+that she is her own mistress!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You mean that ironically! What does for Rome,
+however, doesn't do for us. The Church of England
+is It&mdash;not She&mdash;to most people. As for Rome,
+nothing in her belongs to humanity, except the
+Vatican discipline&mdash;the life of which, I confess, is a
+permanent miracle!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My best friends,&#8221; entreated Sara gaily, &#8220;do not&mdash;do
+not fight. Be nice to each other and listen to me.
+The English never read history. Why not get up a
+kind of Historical Commission and examine the validity
+of the Anglican Orders? There you can work at the
+roots of things. After that, introduce a Bill for the
+admission of clergymen to Parliament. You have
+spiritual peers, why not spiritual Commons?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One at a time,&#8221; said Reckage; &#8220;what ideas you
+have! Say them again. I believe they are not half
+bad. But do go more slowly.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sara, with a becoming instinct of meekness, took her
+favourite seat on the fender, and at the feet of the two
+men, looking up humbly, began to explain herself
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>with that lightness of phrase only possible to those
+who have a profound knowledge of their subject. Her
+submissive attitude, her soft, musical voice, and her
+docile expression made both men insensible to the
+actual commands insinuated into the emotional wit
+and acute arguments of her little speech. Reckage
+was fascinated. He sat there drinking in her beauty
+and wisdom&mdash;the one stimulated his senses, the other
+pierced his intelligence, making him feel that, with
+such a companion ever by his side, he might achieve
+heroism with a good conscience. As matters were,
+he was often dissatisfied, sleepless, and oppressed&mdash;particularly
+under praise. He was not often set right,
+as he would have said it, in his own opinion&mdash;even
+when the world and his Executive Committee were
+disposed to cry out&mdash;&#8220;Well done.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I didn't run within pounds of my form,&#8221; was the
+cry of self-reproach he invariably heard above the
+applause of his colleagues or the commendation of
+the Press. Sara, he believed, would give him the
+courage of his own better nature. These thoughts
+were passing rosily in his heart, when Lord Garrow,
+accompanied by Agnes Carillon, entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My love,&#8221; said Lord Garrow to Sara, &#8220;I met Miss
+Carillon on the steps of the London Library, and I have
+brought her in to tea. But why do you sit in the
+firelight? Why haven't they lit the gas? And who
+is here?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A sudden flame from the grate illuminated the faces
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>of Orange and Lord Reckage. The two ladies
+greeted each other. All spoke, and then all were
+silent. It was an awkward meeting for every one
+present. Lord Garrow rang the bell, and the small
+company sat there without a word, watching the
+footman light the gas in the glass chandelier.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you suppose we have been talking
+about?&#8221; asked Sara desperately.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can't imagine, my dear,&#8221; said her father. &#8220;I am
+far too cross. I hate these odd ways.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We were discussing the validity of Anglican
+Orders.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;God bless my soul!&#8221; exclaimed his lordship;
+&#8220;what next?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Agnes, who was looking pale and worried, frowned
+with displeasure.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But how disloyal!&#8221; she said severely. &#8220;As if one
+could even discuss such a question!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Orange is a Roman Catholic,&#8221; answered Sara,
+&#8220;so he is not disloyal. I am nothing&mdash;so I have no
+obligations. Lord Reckage is in public life and has
+to meet the problems of the age. Don't be narrow,
+dear Agnes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think it too bad, all the same,&#8221; replied Miss
+Carillon&mdash;&#8220;even in fun. I am sure I am right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Reckage tried to conceal his annoyance, but
+his voice shook a little as he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We were not joking. New men will come in,
+not improbably with new ideas. I must be ready for
+them. An ignorance of men's moods is fatal.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He hoped she would take this warning to herself.
+She was, however, too stirred to consider anything
+except the cause of their common agitation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dr. Benson was saying to papa only last week,&#8221;
+she answered, &#8220;that there is no apparent recognition
+of the Divine presence in our daily affairs. It is most
+shocking.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The clergy are doing their level best, by bigotry,
+to make Benson's assertion true. At any rate, I am
+not going about, as the French put it, with my paws
+in the air. I feel strongly tempted to throw up my
+present line, and give the whole Association to the best
+qualified hypocrite of my acquaintance.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The sure way out of that temptation is not to
+think yourself exposed to it,&#8221; said Robert quickly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I hate sophistries,&#8221; said Agnes, tightening her
+lips. &#8220;And I hope, Beauclerk, that you will never
+remain in any painful situation against your will.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>These words seemed to bear an ominous significance.
+Agnes herself, having uttered them, received
+one of those sudden inward illuminations which, in
+some natures, amount to second-sight. But she was
+unimaginative and not especially observant, sensitive,
+or skilled in discerning the signs of any psychological
+disturbance. She felt only, on this occasion, that a
+crisis had been reached, that Reckage was vexed with
+himself, with her, with life generally. She had a
+letter in her pocket from David Rennes&mdash;a beautiful,
+touching letter, full of longing for a faith, a hope&mdash;love,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>he said, he possessed, alas! What a difference in the
+two men!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don't understand,&#8221; said Sara. &#8220;You are
+right because you haven't heard enough. Mr. Orange
+is going to give a lecture on Church History, and
+Lord Reckage has promised to be chairman. They
+will hold the meeting at St. James's Hall, and I am
+sure it will be most interesting. More I cannot tell
+you, because they have gone no further in their plans.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But misfortune had entered the room, and that
+wayfarer&mdash;once admitted&mdash;asserts her ill-will without
+let or hindrance. Agnes, barely touching her tea,
+rose to say goodbye. Lord Garrow and Reckage
+escorted her to the hall. They helped her into a
+carriage (lent her for that afternoon by the Duchess of
+Pevensey), and she drove away, trembling, tearful,
+afraid, not reminding her <i>fiancé</i> that they were to
+meet at dinner in the evening. He walked homeward,
+but not until he had decided, after much hesitation,
+that he could scarcely go back again to Lady Sara.
+His thoughts were fixed now to one refrain&mdash;&#8220;I must
+have my freedom.&#8221; Freedom, at that moment, had a
+mocking, lovely face, the darkest blue eyes, and
+quantities of long, black hair. She wore a violet dress,
+her hands were white, and she talked like a Blue Book
+set to music by Beethoven. Yes, he must have his
+freedom and live.</p>
+
+<p>Sara and Orange, meanwhile, left alone in the
+drawing-room, were exchanging interrogatory glances,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>&#8220;What do you think now?&#8221; she asked; &#8220;do you
+pretend to believe that Agnes and Beauclerk can make
+each other even moderately contented?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then you are to blame.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A flush swept over her face. She looked bitter
+reproaches, but she made no answer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And why are you so interested in Anglican
+Orders?&#8221; he continued. &#8220;How is it that you know
+your subject so well? For you do know it well.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Catholic questions always appeal to me,&#8221; she said
+coldly. &#8220;I have no religion, but I come from a race
+of politicians and soldiers&mdash;on my mother's side. I
+must have an intellectual <i>pied à terre</i>, and I require a
+good cause. Party politics are too parochial for me.
+So I am on the side of the Vatican.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>La reine s'amuse</i>,&#8221; said Robert. &#8220;Is that all?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, that's all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She turned over the music on her writing-table and
+hummed some bars from the Kyrie of Mozart's
+Twelfth Mass.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you were a Jesuit,&#8221; said she, &#8220;you would try to
+convert me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;St. Ignatius never wasted time over insincere
+women.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am not insincere,&#8221; she said frankly. &#8220;I own I
+may seem so. But you are not kind, and some day
+you may be sorry for this.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes filled with tears&mdash;which he noticed and
+attributed to fatigue.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I wonder how men ever accomplish anything!&#8221;
+she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They have no insight. They mistake self-control
+for coldness, and despair for flippancy. Isn't that the
+case?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One can be light and true as well as light and
+false. Now you are witty, beautiful, brilliant&mdash;but
+you don't always ring true.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She seemed confused for a minute, and hung her
+head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All the same,&#8221; she said, suddenly, &#8220;I am always
+sincere with you. It is not in my power to be so
+with every one. &#8216;Fate overrules my will.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is the trouble with most of us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then he wished her goodbye, promising, however,
+to call again with regard to the Meeting. Lord
+Garrow met him on the staircase.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I congratulate you on your election to Brookes's,&#8221;
+stammered his lordship, &#8220;but for Heaven's sake be
+cautious at play. Really, the younger men there are
+trying to revive the worst traditions in gaming. The
+loo was rather high at Chetwynd's last night,&#8221; he
+added, with a studied air of guilt. &#8220;I won £500
+from my host. I call that the limit&mdash;even on old
+Cabinet Steinberg!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He smiled, he waved his hand, feeling that he had
+displayed great taste in a situation of enormous difficulty.
+Something unusual, too, in the young man's
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>face touched his heart. It seemed to him that here
+was one who had felt the world's buffets.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have never been just in my estimate of Mr.
+Orange,&#8221; said he to Sara, as he re-entered the drawing-room.
+&#8220;I quite took to him to-day. He has a fine
+countenance, and I am sure he is very much cut up
+by this painful affair. It's a pity he's a Catholic, for
+he would make such an excellent canon for St. Paul's.
+He would <i>look</i> the part so well.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Happiness, that nymph with unreturning feet,&#8217; has
+passed him by,&#8221; said Sara, watching herself in one of
+the mirrors.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She has passed a good many,&#8221; sighed his lordship.
+&#8220;But play me that lovely air which Titiens sings in
+<i>Il Flauto Magico</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+
+
+<p>Agnes was too ill to appear at the Duchess of
+Pevensey's dinner that evening. Lord Reckage's
+melancholy, absent air during the entertainment, and
+his early withdrawal from the distinguished party,
+were referred, with sympathy, to the very proper
+distress he felt at Miss Carillon's tiresome indisposition.
+The time passed well enough for him&mdash;far better, in
+fact, than he had expected, for he was relieved from
+the strain of &#8220;dancing attendance&#8221; on his betrothed&mdash;a
+thing which he, even more than most men, found
+silly. In the chivalrous days of tournaments, troubadours
+and crusades this romantic exercise of seeming
+enslaved was, he held, justifiable, even interesting.
+But in modern life it had an appearance of over-emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Agnes, however, could neither eat, nor sleep,
+nor rest. Her temples throbbed, her eyes ached;
+every nerve was a barbed wire; her soul was manacled
+by promises; she would not use her reason; the fever
+in her veins was not to be quelled, and the one
+agitating relief to her physical suffering was a constant
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>perusal of David Rennes's letter. It was the first
+passionate love-letter she had ever received. Just as
+a river may stream peacefully through pastoral lands
+till it joins the sea and becomes one with that vast
+element of unrest, so the little flame of her girl's
+nature was absorbed at last into the great fire underlying
+all humanity. Was she in love? she asked
+herself. When she was with Rennes she became
+silent, incapable of conversation, of thought. All she
+asked was to be near him, to watch him, to hear him.</p>
+
+<p>Was this love? Was it love to press his letter
+to her heart, to read it again and again, to keep
+it under her pillow at night? Was it love to think
+of him every moment of the day, to compare all
+others to him and find them wanting, to see his
+face always before her eyes? Was it love to know
+that if he called her, as he called her now, she would
+leave home, father, mother, friends, all things, all
+people, and follow him to the world's end, to the
+beginning of hell, or&mdash;further? At one-and-twenty
+such questions need no answer. They belong to the
+innocent rhetoric of youth which will cry out to
+June, &#8220;Are you fair?&#8221; and to the autumnal moon
+in mist, &#8220;Must there be rain?&#8221; Neither June nor
+the moon make reply, but youth has no doubts. The
+girl, weeping tears of joy over Rennes's perilous
+words, had but one clear regret in her mind&mdash;she
+could not see him for some hours. His declaration
+dispelled the terrible bitterness, scepticism, and in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>difference
+to all sentiment which had gradually
+permeated, during their acquaintance, her whole
+heart. Repulsed affection may turn to hatred in
+haughty, impatient souls. But in Agnes it produced
+a moral languor&mdash;a mental indolence&mdash;the feeling
+that no one was in earnest, and nothing ought to
+matter. The more this feeling deepened, the more
+attentively did she observe the mere outward etiquette
+of all that passes for seriousness, attending scrupulously
+to the minor obligations of existence and exhausting
+her courage in those petty matters which die with the
+day and yield no apparent fruit. How different now
+seemed the colourless, harsh fabric which she had
+mistaken for duty and wrapped&mdash;as a shroud&mdash;about
+her secret hopes! She had held every aspiration
+implying happiness as a &#8220;proverb of reproach&#8221;; she
+had endeavoured to believe that all poetry&mdash;except
+hymns&mdash;was false prophecy leading one to hard entanglements
+and grievous falls.</p>
+
+<p>And what had been the impoverishment of her soul
+under this grim discipline? How could she tell the
+many thoughts which had travelled unquestioned over
+the highway of her heart during that process of disillusion?
+But all was changed now, and all that
+had been difficult, painful or obscure in the world
+seemed perfect with the inexhaustible glory of young
+passion. Rennes begged her to see him once more before
+he left England for some years. Would she meet him
+in Kensington Gardens? She had often walked there,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>under the old trees, with himself and Mrs. Rennes,
+and the place had become very dear, very familiar
+to her from these associations. At any other time,
+however, the idea of a clandestine meeting with David
+would have been intolerable. To go now was misery,
+yet she dared not stay away. The sunny morning
+mixed with her mood, which was one of determination
+to risk all in order to win all. Driven by a sense
+of her capabilities for endurance, she faced, with a
+kind of exultation, the possible disaster or remorse
+which might follow her action. Was there not
+a possible joy also? For ten days now she had
+been ill in body as well as mind; she had suffered
+a hard struggle. She knew now that she could not,
+could not, could not, no matter what happened,
+become the wife of Lord Reckage. The result
+of great self-delusion for so long a period was a
+condition of mind in which she was practically unable
+to distinguish between candour and disingenuousness.
+Any appearance of deceit&mdash;which she regarded as
+wrong in itself&mdash;always excited her scorn, but desperation
+now urged a step which might lead, she thought,
+to much good or much evil. That it could lead
+to more evil than a loveless marriage was not, however,
+to be feared. She started from the house with
+feverish cheeks, a beating pulse, and a new strange
+consciousness of power&mdash;power over herself, her fate,
+the world.</p>
+
+<p>Rennes was waiting for her under the long avenue
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>of trees by the Lancaster Gate walk. She had a tall,
+stately figure of that type immortalised by Du
+Maurier&mdash;indeed, she herself may be recognised in
+some of his famous society sketches about the year
+1870. The clear, decisive features, the tender discerning
+expression, the poise of the head, were
+irresistibly attractive to all artists with a strong sense
+of grace&mdash;even artificial grace&mdash;as opposed to rude
+vigour or homeliness. She possessed naturally that
+almost unreal elegance which many painters&mdash;Frederick
+Walker, for instance&mdash;have been accused
+of inventing.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is very wrong of me,&#8221; she said, blushing as
+Rennes advanced, hat in hand, to meet her, &#8220;very
+wrong. I never do these things.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I said in my letter&mdash;right or wrong it matters not&mdash;what
+I thought. This is a thing which runs up
+into eternity, Agnes. It had to be. We needn't
+try to justify it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cannot&mdash;I dare not regard it as you do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you have come! Let me look at you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Does it require much looking to see that I am
+really unhappy?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see that you are beautiful, that you are here&mdash;with
+me. Ah, don't be unhappy! When we take
+into account our scanty time together&#8221;&mdash;he grew
+pale at the thought&mdash;&#8220;and the danger we have just
+missed of losing each other, perhaps for ever&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;
+She caught his hand for a second and he kept it.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;What is to be done?&#8221; she asked, after an agitated
+silence. &#8220;What will people say? Not that I can
+think of <i>anything</i> to do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Darling, I know I have asked you to make an
+impossible sacrifice&mdash;to break off a most brilliant
+marriage, to marry me and share the despair, hardships,
+tortures of a life very different to any you have
+seen. Well has Goethe said&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><i>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Love not the sun too much, nor yet the stars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come, follow me to the realms of night.&#8217;<br /></span>
+</i></div></div>
+
+<p>This is what I offer you, dearest. You can hardly
+realise what a wretched, desolate existence mine has
+been. Resignation is a miserable refuge. They say
+work gives one contentment, but unless one is servile
+and gives in to the spirit of the age, it is rarely understood
+till one is dead. And so the discouragement
+is perpetual. Even your sympathy would pain me at
+such times. I feel then&mdash;as I feel now&mdash;that I will
+grasp Fate by the throat; it shall not utterly crush
+me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But,&#8221; said Agnes, a little frightened at this outburst,
+&#8220;do you never think of God and His
+Will?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He returned her anxious glance with gloomy, almost
+compassionate amazement.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Does God think of me?&#8221; he asked. &#8220;Really, I
+cannot feel that the salvation of my soul is so important.
+Indeed, any idea of immortality is awful
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span>How could it ever be a consolation&mdash;except to a
+smug, very self-satisfied egoism? Call it the burden&mdash;or
+the cross of immortality&mdash;if you call it anything.
+I wish it could be proved that we end when we
+die. But physicians dissect <i>dead</i> bodies to find the
+soul. It would not be a soul if they could find it
+in the dead. And imagine one becoming penitent
+when the day of grace is over!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I keep Clement's words before me, &#8216;<i>The Lord who
+died for us is not our enemy.</i>&#8217; Surely that is a splendid
+thought against final despair.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Many thoughts are splendid,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;if we
+could believe them now as the early Christians did in
+the first centuries.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Agnes, with parted, whitening lips, could find no
+response. Rennes painted her afterwards in the same
+attitude, and with all he remembered of her expression,
+in his now famous picture, <i>Pilate's Wife</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will never be happy&mdash;never,&#8221; she murmured
+at last. &#8220;But perhaps no one is happy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can grant that the saints were always profoundly
+happy. Let me tell you why. The state of the saint
+is one of dependence. His convictions, therefore, are
+enduring and unclouded. He accepts his trials as
+privileges; he loses all sense of his own identity; his
+humanity is merged in God; his ecstasies lift him
+up to heaven and bring him down to a transfigured
+earth. He has been bought with a ransom, and he
+is the co-heir with Christ. He is found worthy of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>suffering. But with artists, all is different. The
+saint is in search of holiness. The artist thinks chiefly
+of beauty. Holiness is a state of mind&mdash;it is something
+permanent. Beauty, however, mocks one half
+the time&mdash;it may be a deception. Anyhow, one
+cannot define it, or keep it, or even satisfactorily catch
+it. Our inspired moments, therefore, alternate with a
+miserable knowledge of our individual wretchedness.
+We learn that we are no stronger than our individuality.
+That is the barrier between us and our
+visions. The saint has God before his eyes, and he
+carries Him in his heart. The artist sees only himself
+and bears only the weight of his own incompetence.
+But these, darling, are not the things I meant to
+say to you, although they may explain my life. The
+common run of people wouldn't understand all this in
+the least.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I want to hear all&mdash;I want to enter into all your
+thoughts, David. I have always known that those
+who devote themselves to the study of what is sublime
+and beautiful suffer proportionately from the squalor
+of actual facts.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She quoted from one or her father's speeches which
+he invariably gave with much earnestness at the
+opening of schools of art and similar institutions.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The world,&#8221; replied Rennes, &#8220;rewards the beautiful
+only inasmuch as it flatters the senses, and the
+sublime remains&mdash;so far as the general taste is concerned&mdash;altogether
+without response.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But one would think,&#8221; said Agnes, &#8220;that you
+were a disappointed or an unsuccessful man, whereas
+every one admires your genius.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He laughed at her practical bent, which seemed
+the more fascinating because of her picturesque
+appearance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One often feels cast down without the least cause,&#8221;
+said he; &#8220;the truth is we all want more praise than
+we get. We are a vain lot, that's the trouble. Let
+me paint myself in the blackest colours. You must
+know the worst&mdash;you must realise the bad bargain
+you may make. Reckage would never bore and tire
+you in this way. How can you care for me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It <i>is</i> hard!&#8221; she said, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Darling! Do you remember the white violets at
+Woodbridge, and sitting on that gate looking across
+that deep valley at the bonfires? Wasn't it perfect?
+Look through these trees now&mdash;see the flames and
+smoke? They are burning dead leaves and twigs. I
+wish I could burn my past. This may be a good
+omen for me. But I must not deceive you; that
+would be a bad beginning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We must decide on some course,&#8221; said Agnes.
+&#8220;Your letter was quite clear, but I suppose I am
+not going on as I ought to do. My present position
+is that of a person telling a lie to people. Before you
+wrote, however, I had made up my mind to <i>some</i>
+change. I could give no good grounds for carrying
+out my engagement to Beauclerk. The motives
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>would not bear examination. I intended to be patient
+till the way was mercifully cleared for me. Even
+birds, in cold weather, grow tame from distress.
+So I waited in a dull, frozen way for what might
+happen.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He remembered, with a pang of remorse, that he
+had once called this devoted woman an accomplished,
+incurable Philistine.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I must put myself in the wrong with regard to
+Beauclerk,&#8221; she continued quietly. &#8220;That is merely
+fair to him. Every one shall know that I have been
+weak and vacillating. May God forgive me and
+humble me&mdash;for I shall not be understood, even by
+many good people. But the next worst thing to
+making an error is to abide by it. Dear David, try
+to follow my feeling. It has all passed in my mind
+in such a way that it is impossible for me to describe
+it. In a sense, giving Reckage up seems to uproot me
+altogether from all my former life, and the future
+is only not a blank because it is such a mystery. I
+am sure, though, that sorrow is never in God's
+ordinance the <i>whole</i> law of life. These are great
+compensations.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Anything is better than to sit still and dream,&#8221;
+said Rennes. &#8220;I have dreamt too long. I find
+solitude oppressive. Yet you will admit how dreadful
+it is to live among those who don't know or don't care
+a bit about art.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But there are other interests equally engrossing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not to me. And even Epicurean advice is only the
+way to ignominious, contemptible happiness. I must
+have an ideal life or else annihilation&mdash;splendid misery
+or splendid content&mdash;nothing between the two.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have not half showed your capabilities yet,&#8221;
+replied Agnes. &#8220;We have to look upon this world
+as the merest pilgrimage, but we can help each other.
+I have hope because I have faith. Sara de Treverell
+said the other day that, in men, experience often
+makes mere callousness of character. Is this true,
+David?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not of me; you have saved me from the worst
+things. But it simply worries and almost exasperates
+me to hear religious talk from any one. When I hear
+a sermon I feel an inclination always to say, &#8216;My dear
+fellow, can't you put your case better?&#8217; I want good
+stuff about Divine and human nature&mdash;not this vagueness
+and platitude. Why don't they tell one something
+about the optimism of God, even before the spectacle
+of men's weakness? But, instead, we are told to
+moan about this vale of tears; we are promised
+chastisements, disappointments, woes, persecution. A
+philosophy of suffering makes men strong, but a
+philosophy of despair is bound to make a generation of
+pleasure-seekers.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And why?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because the veritable world, even on its bare
+merits, <i>is not so bad</i>. It is full of beauty, and interest,
+and enjoyment. It is a lie to call it so many vile
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>names. One's good sense revolts. Do you think,
+darling, that I could look at you, love you, be loved
+by you, and call life a bad joke?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Since the beginning of time this logic has held its
+own against all scientific criticism. The two, being
+secure from observation, kissed each other and accepted
+the earth with perfect cheerfulness. They made some
+plans, and after the agony of parting till the next day,
+each went home to write the other a long letter.
+In the course of the afternoon Rennes passed through
+Arlington Street four times in a hansom and twice
+on foot. Agnes was always at one of the windows
+innocently observing the weather. He thought her
+the loveliest thing created. He pitied, with benevolence,
+all other men, and he spent an hour at his
+solicitor's office, without begrudging the time, or
+chafing under the fatigue.</p>
+
+<p>Two days later Lord Reckage received the following
+communication from Miss Carillon:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">My dear Beauclerk</span>,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>This letter will astonish and grieve you. I have
+written several. None please me. All say too much and
+yet leave all unsaid. I must send this one and trust to your
+generosity. I am wholly to blame, wholly in the wrong.
+I am no actress but I have been acting a part&mdash;the part of
+a happy woman. My effort has deceived many&mdash;Papa,
+Mamma, and, I believe, you among them. Dear Beauclerk,
+you will think me ungrateful, false, weak. I don't excuse
+myself. As I have said, the blame is all mine, and the
+punishment must be all mine.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p>
+<p>When you receive this I shall have left England with
+Mr. Rennes. He had arranged to go to the East for a long
+time. (This will show you how little he anticipated any
+change in <i>my</i> plans.) When I realised that I should have
+to say goodbye to him, probably for ever, I found myself
+unequal to the trial. I could not let him go alone. It is
+bad for me to dwell too much on my feelings. I ought to
+admit, however, that I have known all along, in a sort of
+way, that I should have to give in <i>if he put the matter
+before me</i>. I dislike the talk one hears so often about
+inevitability&mdash;much of it is made an excuse for appalling
+selfishness. At the same time, I understand what is meant
+and feel strongly, that, while I am using my own will&mdash;I
+cannot use it, <i>with a good conscience</i>, otherwise. Can you
+follow this? In reality, I was disloyal to Mr. Rennes when
+I became engaged to you. I was impatient, wilful, blind.
+I did you both an irreparable&mdash;yes, an irreparable injustice.
+He must always think me fickle, and you will always
+condemn my weakness. I dare not ask you to forgive me.
+I dare not hope for contentment after such a bad beginning.
+One of Papa's favourite texts rings in my ears&mdash;&#8220;<i>Is
+it a small thing for you to weary men, but will ye weary
+my God also?</i>&#8221; I mustn't be insincere with God. But
+I do want you to see that my affection for Mr. Rennes has
+taken such a hold of my life that I simply cannot fight
+against it. I am not sentimental, as you know: I can be
+quite as sensible as other people about life and its obligations.
+I don't expect romance or joy. Had I, by any
+misfortune, met Mr. Rennes <i>after</i> my marriage with you,
+I cannot bear to think what might have happened. It
+isn't nice of me to say this. It is a painful, humiliating
+reflection, and you won't like to think that you ever
+cared&mdash;even a little&mdash;for any one so unworthy. In
+your kindness you will say that this isn't like me. Bu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>t
+indeed it is the real me. You have known the <i>un</i>real,
+sham me. Every one of my friends will be surprised.
+I am not surprised. And oh! the relief to be quite,
+quite natural and straightforward at last. Nothing to
+pretend, nothing to hide. I wish you had never known
+me. Your ideals are so noble, and you depended on me
+to realise a few of them. I think of the plans we made,
+the hopes we formed. Alas! they were not for me. I am
+going forward into the darkness. I don't see one ray of
+light. Yet I haven't one misgiving or the least fear,
+because I have the unalterable conviction that I am fulfilling
+my true destiny&mdash;whatever it may be, good or evil.</p>
+
+<p>All will agree that you are well rid of me. This is my
+consolation. You have been kind, considerate, affectionate,
+thoughtful always. And I have failed you.</p>
+
+<p>Forget me, and never judge other women by me. I
+have been exceptionally foolish.</p><p class="i8 nospaceabove">Your wretched friend,</p><p class="i8 nospaceabove"><span class="smcap">Agnes Carillon</span>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>His lordship's emotion on reading this letter was one
+of relief for himself&mdash;but pity and terror for the girl.
+He was sincerely fond of Agnes, and the defiant
+misery of her words filled him with forebodings. But
+the sense of his own restored liberty soon dominated
+every other feeling; and his anxiety about Miss
+Carillon's future found complete assuagement in the
+thought that character, under suffering, came out with
+an energy and intensity which made, indisputably, for
+progress.</p>
+
+<p>When the news, after twenty-four hours, became
+known, Agnes's wish to place herself in the wrong,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>beyond sympathy, or hope of pardon, was freely gratified.
+No criticism seemed too harsh for her conduct.
+No voice was lifted in mitigation of her offence.
+Rennes was excused, because he was an artist, erratic
+and passionate, and she was unfortunately beautiful.
+The poor old Bishop, however, rallied under the shock,
+preached more vigorously than ever, and showed a
+proud countenance to his daughter's adversaries.
+When he was able to announce to his friends&mdash;after a
+painful fortnight of suspense&mdash;that the young couple had
+travelled to Rome with Mrs. Rennes, and been married
+at the English Embassy there, he gave way to a little
+illness and indulged his grief. One could surrender
+to legalised folly; one could name it. But sin and
+scandal could only be faced by an implacable reserve.
+&#8220;I may die of dismay,&#8221; said he to his wife, &#8220;but I
+will not die of disgrace.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+
+
+<p>Scandal, meanwhile, was collecting her eager forces
+for a great campaign against the Orange marriage.
+It was unanimously decided that the affair could not
+be hushed up. Sympathy&mdash;within wise limits&mdash;was
+on the side of the lovers, but sympathy, nevertheless,
+expressed a desire to hear fuller particulars. Society
+journalism was, at that time, just coming into vogue,
+and the weekly papers contained several references to
+the strange rumour of an approaching divorce.
+Hartley Penborough and the members of the Capitol
+Club were wondering what line they ought to take.
+They intended to stand by Robert, but they did not
+wish to advertise their loyalty. The Carlton set were
+divided into two camps&mdash;those who thought Orange
+unlucky, and those who thought him an alien
+adventurer. So far as these opinions touched his
+career, both were damaging. The friends of Lord
+Wight and Lady Fitz Rewes had always been jealous
+of the young man. They discussed him now with
+ferocious pity, announcing his ruin in every circle.
+Sara de Treverell's associates were mostly of the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>Diplomatic Corps. These, well informed about
+Alberian affairs and Parflete's history, feared much
+mischief. The old Catholics were dismayed at the
+new convert's entanglement&mdash;especially as he had
+recently been elected to Parliament. The more
+timorous among them&mdash;in a panic&mdash;entertained unfounded
+doubts about his orthodoxy, and the rest
+deplored the injudicious attention bestowed on mere
+recruits to the Ancient Faith. Converts then were
+looked upon, in England, with a certain suspicion.
+At that period the magnificent services of Dr. Newman
+and Cardinal Manning were far more appreciated at
+Rome than they were in the drawing-rooms of English
+Catholic society. Orange, following his own instincts
+and the advice of Newman, avoided rather than sought
+the small group which attempted to make the Eternal
+Church a Select Committee of the Uncommonly Good.
+To one who had spent his youth in a great Catholic
+nation, and came himself from one of the princely
+families of France, the servitude necessarily involved
+by the fact of joining any <i>coterie</i>&mdash;no matter how
+agreeable&mdash;could possess no sort of attraction. His
+Catholic friends were chiefly among the Jesuits, an
+order which, by devotion, genius, and courage, has
+excited that fear from all men which is the highest
+homage this world can offer to integrity. His personal
+sorrow, therefore, was not degraded by any foolish
+additional worry about the tittle-tattle of this, that, or
+the other personage. Tongues might wag; for him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>self,
+he could but do his duty and keep his account
+straight with God. He hoped that a public law-suit
+would be avoided. Baron Zeuill was using his
+influence, so he declared, to arrive at some settlement
+with Parflete. Parflete's agent was now in communication
+with Robert's solicitors; he himself was known
+to be in London, and he had even been seen dining
+with foreigners at one of the small private hotels near
+the Strand. The Alberian Ambassador informed Mr.
+Disraeli that there was nothing to fear because Parflete
+was not ambitious. &#8220;The corruption of egoism and
+the insatiable love of pleasure&#8221; had done its worst to a
+character never striking for its energy. He would
+&#8220;desert&#8221; his wife again if she would give him a
+sufficient sum. Mrs. Parflete, Disraeli pointed out,
+was the last woman on earth to agree to such terms.
+She was also perfectly well aware, he added, that she
+was the legitimate daughter of the late Archduke
+Charles.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But,&#8221; said the Ambassador, &#8220;surely she will love
+the glory of her country and the respect due to her
+Imperial father's memory far better than her own legal
+rights?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can't narrow the question to a mere sentimental
+issue,&#8221; said Disraeli. &#8220;It is no such thing.
+She has to defend her character. Orange must clear
+his reputation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Disraeli had formed the opinion that Alberia&mdash;as
+represented by His Excellency&mdash;was by no
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span>means anxious to see Mrs. Parflete's innocence
+established; that, in fact, the whole disaster had been
+planned and executed in the sole design of compromising
+her status. All that had occurred, all that he
+had observed led him to this conviction more and
+more. It was decided that Brigit should be summoned
+at once from Paris to take up her residence at the
+Convent, where she had been well protected during
+the earlier part of the year.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>&#8220;There is to be no appeal <i>ad misericordiam</i>,&#8221; wrote
+Disraeli to Orange: &#8220;what you have done, you have done
+in good faith and perfect honesty. Parflete, beyond a
+doubt, will take some action. His conscience provides him,
+in this difficulty, with the best means of self-advertisement
+he has yet found. He has consulted several Bishops, the
+Lord Chief Justice, all the ambassadors, and most of the
+intelligent Peers. He wanders from one confessional to
+another: St. Philip, St. Teresa, St. Benedict, and St.
+Dominic are invoked perpetually for the disarmament of
+his scruples. Vanity blinds him to the danger of assassination.
+Alberia is in a red mood. <i>Carissime</i>, the dark,
+inevitable hour will come. Be prepared for it. Depend
+entirely now on the might of your religious belief. Men
+cannot assist you. I have helped many, but no one has
+ever helped me. Political life must be taken as you find
+it, and it is neither in my disposition, nor, I am sure, in
+yours, to indulge in complaints of unkindness. I have
+reached a point now when I should like to quote Dante.
+Consider him quoted, and believe me,</p><p class="i8 nospaceabove">&#8220;Ever yours,</p><p class="i12 nospaceabove">&#8220;D.&#8221;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The course of the intrigue may be followed most
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>conveniently at this point in the document known as
+Mudara's Confession.</p>
+
+<p>Mudara, it will be remembered, was in the Alberian
+Secret Service.<i>[See The School for Saints, p. 395.]</i> He it was who confirmed the false
+news of Parflete's suicide, and did so much to hasten
+Orange's marriage. He says in his narrative:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>The death of the Archduke Charles&mdash;which occurred
+some weeks before it was anticipated&mdash;put the Alberian
+Government to very grave embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>1. It was impossible to deny the legitimacy of the
+Archduchess Marie-Brigitte-Henriette (known as Mrs.
+Parflete). The rumour was officially denied, and every
+proper measure was taken for the suppression of a fact
+dangerous at all times and especially so during a national
+crisis. Had the Archduchess been so ill-advised as to
+stand upon her legal rights, the case would have been very
+awkward for the Government. They intended, in any
+event, to plead ignorance, and had prepared every proof of
+their good faith in withstanding the claim.</p>
+
+<p>2. It was clear, beyond a doubt, on the highest ecclesiastical
+authority, that, if application were made, the
+marriage between the Archduchess and Parflete would be
+annulled at Rome. Parflete was regarded with great
+suspicion. He was capable of any treachery. He could
+not hold his tongue, and we know what that means at
+Court. The one person he feared was the Archduke
+Charles, and now that death had removed His Imperial
+Highness, we understood what to expect from the disgraced
+Equerry.</p>
+
+<p>3. The Government's Agents had formed a very high
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>opinion of M. de Hausée (known as Robert Orange). It
+was considered by the Government's advisers that this
+gentleman would use all his influence to crush any foolish
+ambition on the part of the Archduchess Marie-Brigitte.
+M. de Hausée was himself of too noble a family to care in
+the least for high-sounding titles or empty rights. M. de
+Hausée (whose mother was Scotch) had become a British
+subject, and had been elected to the English Parliament.
+He was under the protection of Mr. Disraeli, had every
+prospect of a brilliant political career as a Commoner, and
+he had too much good sense&mdash;in view of the very large
+fortune settled upon the Archduchess&mdash;to diminish it by
+any imprudent insistence on a claim which, extremely
+valuable as a ground for some advantageous compromise,
+could only prove ruinous if pressed to any exact recognition.
+The Government's advisers, therefore, approved
+most highly of the marriage between M. de Hausée and
+the Archduchess Marie-Brigitte-Henriette, and were
+disposed to hasten it on by every means. On the news,
+<i>properly authenticated</i>, of Parflete's suicide on Lord Soham's
+yacht, I visited England and had interviews with the
+Archduchess herself, with M. de Hausée at Catesby, and
+with Baron Zeuill at Claridge's Hotel. The <i>proofs</i> of
+Parflete's death were in perfect order, and the marriage
+between M. de Hausée and H.I.H. took place in the
+Chapel of the Alberian Embassy.</p>
+
+<p>As I had made all the arrangements, I engaged the
+servants for the reception of the bride and groom at the
+Villa Miraflores. I was able to retain a small room at the
+back of the house for my own use. On the day of their
+arrival, I concealed myself, without difficulty, in the apartment
+where Mr. Orange and the Archduchess had their
+<i>déjeuner</i>. It was an unfortunate circumstance that I did
+not destroy the telegram which I saw on the mantel-piece.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>But I supposed it contained some ordinary congratulations.
+A more vulgar prudence than mine would have read and
+burnt it in any case. My fault is, unquestionably, a most
+inopportune delicacy of feeling. I witnessed the whole
+scene between Mr. Orange and Her Imperial Highness.
+It brought tears to my eyes, but as evidence it was valueless
+for my purpose. She wept, stormed, and showed
+much feeling. I was reminded in many ways of her
+mother, Madame Duboc. M. de Hausée, of purer blood,
+is like those players who, in spite of an air of indifference
+at great losses, feel them none the less. I consider it my
+duty as a gentleman to say that his bearing through the
+ordeal did credit to his noble family and his personal
+character. The Archduchess, who is foolhardy and
+insolent, does not deserve such a lover, and it is grievous
+to think that such a termagant should have so much power
+over such a man. I regard her as I would some poisonous
+reptile. Piety&mdash;which improves most women&mdash;only seems
+to render her the more defiant, and love&mdash;which softens
+most wills&mdash;makes hers the more hard. After parting
+with M. de Hausée she swooned, and I thought what a
+merciful thing it would be for all of us if she never
+regained consciousness. This idea&mdash;which may have been
+an inspiration&mdash;was before me, when I heard a slight
+rustling behind the curtains. I pulled out my revolver
+(although I had no intention of firing), aimed it, and said,
+&#8220;Who is there?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>To my amazement, Parflete himself came out.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For God's sake, don't shoot,&#8221; said he, &#8220;it is I.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He cried bitterly at the sight of the Archduchess&mdash;for
+she was looking extraordinarily beautiful. He cursed himself
+loudly, put me to terrible anxiety, and I repented of
+my recklessness in not getting rid of such a fool long ago.
+With great presence of mind I rang the bell, and we with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>drew
+to my hiding-place while the servant came in, raised
+a hue and cry, and finally carried the insensible Archduchess
+to a bedroom. When the coast was clear we
+emerged. I asked Parflete what he meant to do, why he
+was there, and how he had got into the house.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To sound the soul of another,&#8221; said he, still maudlin.
+&#8220;You must first have searched deeply your own. Remorse
+has brought me here. My better nature reasserts itself.&#8221;
+And more to that effect. &#8220;There is nothing new under
+the sun!&#8221; he wound up.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why should there be?&#8221; said I, exasperated. &#8220;Come
+to the point.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My wife is the purest, noblest of beings!&#8221; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will defend any jade on earth, provided she be
+handsome,&#8221; said I, but seeing an ugly light in his eye, I
+added, &#8220;but H.I.H. is certainly respectable. To this we
+have both been witnesses.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is to be done?&#8221; he cried, beating his head.
+&#8220;Can I forget her interests? Who, better than I, should
+take the place of her adviser, her Prime Minister?
+Affairs in Alberia cannot long remain in this violent state.
+There must be a <i>dénouement</i>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I answered him sharply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know quite well that the Archduchess can never
+hope for official recognition from any Alberian Ministry&mdash;let
+alone the sovereigns of Europe. An aggressive attitude
+on her part could at most and at the worst, but lead to
+these things&mdash;a change of dynasty, and the annexation of
+Alberia by one of the Powers, or its partition among some
+of them. We wish Alberia to become another Switzerland&mdash;a
+little Paradise of law-abiding, industrious, rich,
+independent people!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All the same,&#8221; said he, &#8220;my wife may not sell her
+birth-right. Such a proceeding is directly opposite to the
+Will of God.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She will be a good claimant&mdash;after all this scandal with
+the Carlists and de Hausée,&#8221; said I. &#8220;I can imagine the
+welcome extended to her by Bismarck! We have seen
+enough of this kind of thing in France and Spain.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>We talked for an hour. He was as obstinate as a mule
+and as incoherent as running water. I could grasp him
+nowhere. It was like groping in a well for a lighted torch.
+No doubt he had formed in his own mind some obscure,
+incalculable intrigue, but no reason can guess the plans
+which are made by an unreasoning person.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The Archduchess is rich, young, and handsome,&#8221; said
+I; &#8220;it would be folly to change her noble independence
+for a political slavery fatal to her peace&mdash;perhaps her life.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But duty is above such weak considerations,&#8221; said he,
+rolling his eyes. &#8220;My wife must remember the nation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you believe,&#8221; I rejoined, &#8220;that you would get the
+nation's sanction to the general upset which you propose?
+You must be mad.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nations go mad,&#8221; said he, smiling; &#8220;why not to my
+advantage, then, as well as yours?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He refused to tell me how he got into the house, but it
+must have been by bribery. His sneers and insults were
+insinuated with such skill that retaliation on the spot was
+impossible. He made his escape by suddenly extinguishing
+the lamp, which left the room in pitch darkness. I felt it
+would be undignified to stumble about in vain pursuit of a
+man so active and so <i>canaille</i> in all his methods. He must
+have been on good terms with the servants, for a considerable
+time elapsed before they replied to my summons, and
+when I asked them, each in turn, whether he had been
+seen, one and all assumed the greatest astonishment and
+innocence, but none appeared in any way alarmed, which
+they must have done had they not been well aware of his
+presence in the house. I said no more, for, by treating
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>the matter lightly, I made them look&mdash;to themselves&mdash;dupes
+and very ridiculous. I remained at the Villa until the
+Archduchess and Lady Fitz Rewes departed for Paris. I
+had a short interview with M. de Hausée in my character
+of the late Archduke's Agent. Our conversation was
+purely in connection with H.I.H.'s money matters,
+although he said with great firmness at the close, &#8220;The
+Archduchess will never embarrass Alberian affairs. Her
+taste is not for Courts or politics.&#8221; I know this is his
+true conviction, but he is in love, and he measures her
+by his own unselfishness. He won my heart strangely.
+In all my experience, he is the one honest man who is not
+a little idiotic into the bargain. I deplore the influence of
+women on such a character, and I would have saved him
+from that Judith.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Here, for the present, we must leave Mudara's
+narrative.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p><h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>The Alberian Ambassador, Prince d'Alchingen, considered
+himself a diplomatist of the Metternich school.
+He had imagination, sentimentality, and humour: he
+preferred to attack the strength rather than the weaknesses
+of mankind, and in all his schemes he counted
+inconsistency among the passions, and panic among
+the virtues. He still hoped that Orange might be
+tempted by the prospect of immediate happiness to
+press for the nullity of the Parflete marriage. Parflete
+himself was indulging in the most extravagant demonstrations
+of remorse. He behaved, as Disraeli said,
+more like a cunning woman than an able man, and he
+was an agent of the kind most dangerous to his
+employers&mdash;irregularly scrupulous, fond of boasting of
+his acquaintance with princes and ministers, so vain
+that he would rather have had notoriety without
+glory, than glory without notoriety. He had found
+the means of ingratiating himself with many persons
+of high rank, and he knew how to avail himself, with
+each, of his influence with the others. Never did an
+intrigue require more urgently a sort of conduct quite
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>out of the common routine. The Prince, therefore,
+was much perturbed in mind, and cast about him for
+a trustworthy associate. By an associate he meant
+some one on whom he could test the quality of his
+deceit&mdash;in other words, he liked to try his sword on
+gossamer and granite before he struck out at commoner
+materials. Among his friendships, he prosecuted
+none with such zeal as that with the Lady Sara de
+Treverell. As the member of a great Russian house,
+she was especially attractive to Alberian speculation,
+but her beauty and cleverness no doubt assisted the
+Ambassador's determination to make himself agreeable.
+The two constantly exchanged letters, and, as the
+Princess d'Alchingen was an invalid who devoted her
+hours to spiritual reading, she gladly permitted
+Lady Sara's influence, realising&mdash;with the priceless
+knowledge of a spirit made reasonable through pain&mdash;that
+the girl was romantic and the Prince incurably
+old. His flaxen wig heightened the tone of a complexion
+much ravaged by gout and its antidotes. His
+nebulous eyes with twitching lids were not improved
+by the gold-rimmed glasses which magnified their
+insignificance. He possessed a striking nose and chin,
+but, as these features were more characteristic than
+delightful, they offered his wife no occasions for serious
+anxiety. Whenever His Excellency required feminine
+advice, it was considered quite <i>en règle</i> that Lady
+Sara should be consulted. The Princess herself drove
+him to St. James's Square on the afternoon following
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span>Mr. Disraeli's call. She sent <i>milles tendresses</i> to her
+<i>chérie</i>, and bitterly regretted that she was not well
+enough to leave the carriage. The Prince kissed her
+hand, bowed superbly, stood bareheaded in a draught
+till the brougham drove away (in these matters he had
+no equal), and, having warned Sara of his intended
+visit by a special messenger, he had the pleasure of
+finding the young lady alone. Following her custom,
+she was appropriately dressed for the occasion in
+prune-coloured velvet, which suggested dignity, and
+very beautiful antique Spanish lace, which symbolized
+the long endurance of things apparently too delicate,
+subtle, and trifling for the assaults of time. The
+Prince kissed both of her white hands, and lamented
+the obstacles which had kept them apart for so
+many insupportable weeks. He had lived on her
+letters. They had been, however, few and
+short.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is troubling you, sir?&#8221; asked Sara, &#8220;you
+look pale.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For once in my life I wish to do a foolish thing&mdash;<i>pour
+encourager les autres</i>,&#8221; was his reply. &#8220;I intend
+to meddle with a love-affair.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whose love-affair?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will tell you presently. I never venture upon
+any work trusting alone to my hopes. I am not of
+those who discover rifts in their harness only on the
+morning of the battle! I prepare for all contingencies.
+First, then, let me put you through a little
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>catechism. Do men ever believe evil reports about
+the women they love?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The <i>posse non peccare</i> is not the <i>non posse peccare</i>,&#8221;
+said Sara quickly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean that they can believe the evil,
+but, as a rule, they won't?&#8221; returned the Prince.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You translate freely, but you have caught the
+spirit!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very well. I come to my second question. Is a
+man better off with a dangerous woman whom he
+adores than with a good woman who adores <i>him</i>?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All men who desire love, deserve it,&#8221; said Sara.
+&#8220;The <i>means</i> to this are always, in a manner, certainties,
+the <i>end</i> is always problematical. But those
+who want love could never be satisfied with mere
+welfare&mdash;never.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have a right to direct my opinion,&#8221; he
+exclaimed; &#8220;where else do I hear such sound good
+sense? The usual women one meets in our circle
+are old, ugly, and proud&mdash;incapable of conversation
+with persons of intelligence. My wife,&#8221; he added
+smoothly, &#8220;makes this complaint about her lady
+friends. It is very dull and very sad for her, although
+she is a saint.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>No conversation or letter was ever exchanged
+between Sara and the Prince without some emphatic
+tribute to the sanctity, prudence, and charm of the
+Princess.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The dear Princess!&#8221; murmured Sara.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;And now,&#8221; said His Excellency, drawing his chair
+an inch nearer, &#8220;I must be serious. You have
+guessed, of course, that I am thinking about Robert
+Orange and Mrs. Parflete. I stayed at Brookes's till
+after twelve last night in hopes of seeing Orange. I
+was discussing him with Lord Reckage.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What did Reckage say?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Reckage doesn't mind raising a blister, but he
+won't often tell one what he thinks.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sara shivered a little and compressed her lips.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Reckage is fond of Orange,&#8221; she said, &#8220;yet
+there is a certain jealousy.... Formerly, Orange
+had need of Reckage, and depended on him; now
+Reckage needs him and depends on Orange. Could
+he but know it, Orange is the one creature who
+could pull him through his difficulties with the Bond
+of Association. A man who has no personal ambition,
+who desires nothing that any one can give, who fears
+nothing that any one can do, who lives securely in
+the presence of God, is a power we must not under-rate.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She spoke with enthusiasm&mdash;the enthusiasm which
+women seldom, if ever, display for principle on its bare
+merits. By the deepening colour in her eyes and
+sudden clearness in her cheeks, the Ambassador felt
+that he had reached a point where the emotions
+would have to be considered, even though they
+might not be counted on.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have not time to tell you all the nonsense
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>Reckage said,&#8221; he answered. &#8220;So far as my own
+judgment can serve for a guide, I believe that he
+would like to see Orange under the care and discipline
+of St. Ignatius.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He wishes him to become a Jesuit priest? How
+selfish!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Such is my impression. He wants so competent
+a colleague removed from the political sphere. If his
+words and actions are of a piece, he will certainly
+work hard to attain this object. He is saying everywhere,
+&#8216;Orange is a born ecclesiastic. Orange is a
+mystic. Orange is under the influence of Newman.
+Orange begins to see that marriage is not for him.&#8217;
+Such remarks don't help outside the Church. Really,
+competition renders the nicest people detestable.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Sara could not conceal her agitation. But she
+baffled her companion a little by saying&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose you want Orange to marry your
+inopportune Archduchess?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The lady in question is certainly inopportune. I
+have never called her an Archduchess. I leave such
+audacities to her enemies! But tell me what you
+think of <i>Mrs. Parflete</i>?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have never seen her. Pensée Fitz Rewes
+insists that she is beautiful, cold, determined, and
+uncommon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Generally, there is nothing so fatal to a woman's
+success in the world as an early connection with a
+scoundrel. I have odd accounts of Mrs. Parflete from
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>Madrid&mdash;the Marquis of Castrillon and an upstart
+called Bodava fought a duel about her in Baron Zeuill's
+gymnasium. A man called William Caffle, who
+attended to their wounds, has given me fullest
+particulars of the affair. I don't wish to injure the
+lady, but on account of eventualities which might
+arise, I am obliged to look a little about me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I understand,&#8221; said Sara.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The great point is not to let Parflete take the
+lead in the settlement. His present course of action
+isn't quite decent or consistent. Will Orange do
+nothing? It is wise to make peace whilst there is
+some faint appearance of choice left on the subject, so
+there is no time to be wasted.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What ought Orange to do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Reckage declares that he will not appeal to Rome.
+There he is well-advised. But as he has already
+compromised Mrs. Parflete, surely his present scruples
+are entirely new and unlooked for? We must both
+despise him, if he should abandon her now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He has never compromised her,&#8221; said Sara indignantly.
+&#8220;He has even been ridiculed for his
+honour. I had no idea, Excellence, that you were so
+wicked!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How else could I know all the news twenty-four
+hours before the rest of the world? This, however,
+is no laughing matter. Parflete may ask his wife to
+return to him. It may suit her purpose to agree.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What! A woman who loves, or who has loved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>&mdash;Robert
+Orange? A few things in human nature are
+still impossible.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Prince d'Alchingen shrugged his shoulders, and
+continued&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Parflete has a good back-stairs knowledge of
+Alberian politics. We never deny this, but we
+always add that he was dismissed, in disgrace, from
+the Imperial Household.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is there much use in denying the fact that he
+married the Archduke's daughter?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We meet the case by saying that the Archduke
+in his youth may not have been exempt from manly
+follies. And Duboc was irresistible&mdash;she drove one
+mad!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then why all this fuss?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To avoid more fuss&mdash;on a large scale.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I have always heard that Mrs. Parflete has
+no intention of giving trouble. They say she is an
+angel.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will find that she would far rather be an
+Archduchess! Orange may discover that his Beatrice
+is nearly related to Rahab!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I cannot think you are right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then you should hear Zeuill and General Prim
+on the subject. The Marquis of Castrillon is in
+London. Our friend Parflete will soon be labouring
+with copious materials for a divorce.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How can you assume such horrors?&#8221; said Sara.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The imagination,&#8221; said His Excellency, &#8220;is always
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>more struck by likelihoods than the reason convinced by
+the examination of facts! My dear friend, let us survey
+the position. Orange does not seem to have the most
+distant idea of making Mrs. Parflete his&mdash;his <i>belle amie</i>.
+Well and good. But ought he, at his age, so handsome,
+so brilliant, so much a man, to renounce all
+other women for the sake of a little adventuress? Can
+nothing be done? If he could have some convincing
+proof of her treachery, would he not turn to others
+more beautiful, more worthy&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To Lady Fitz Rewes,&#8221; said Sara quickly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you like,&#8221; replied the Prince, in his gentlest
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>For a second or two each of them looked away.
+Sara glanced toward her canaries in their cage.
+Prince d'Alchingen leant forward to inhale the perfume
+of some violets in a vase near him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Delicious!&#8221; he murmured, &#8220;delicious!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Disraeli,&#8221; said Sara, still gazing at the birds,
+&#8220;has always wished for the marriage with Lady Fitz
+Rewes. Yet what can we do? I cannot see the end
+of it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The heroic are plotted against by evil spirits,
+comforted by good ones, but in no way constrained,&#8221;
+observed the Ambassador; &#8220;let us then support
+Mr. Orange, and wait for his own decision. I doubt
+whether we could drive him to Lady Fitz Rewes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To whom else?&#8221; asked Sara, fastening some
+flowers in her belt. They were white camellias sent
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>that morning from the infatuated, still hopeful Duke
+of Marshire. &#8220;To whom else&mdash;if not Pensée?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I dare not answer such questions yet. Have
+patience and you shall see what you shall see. Much
+will hinge on the events of the next few days.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will not believe,&#8221; she insisted, &#8220;that Robert
+Orange has been deceived by that woman.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You may change your opinion. Come to Hadley
+Lodge next Saturday&mdash;I ask no more.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Really, sir,&#8221; said Sara, with a mocking smile,
+&#8220;you frighten me. Am I at last to fly through an
+intrigue on the wings of a conspiracy?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Prince smiled also, but he saw that the lady had
+risen to the occasion and would not prove false to her
+Asiatic blood.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mrs. Parflete and Castrillon are cut out for each
+other,&#8221; said he, &#8220;but Orange has no business in that
+<i>galère</i>. He is reserved for a greater fate.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean?&#8221; said Sara.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All now depends on you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;On me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Plainly. Reckage wishes Orange to get out of his
+way and become a Religious. Can this be permitted?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It would be outrageous. It would be a crime.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, worse than that. It might prove a success.
+We don't want any more strong men in the Church
+just now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sara agreed. She, too, was opposed to the Church.
+And she was glad of the excuse this thought offered
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>for the pains she would take to save Orange from the
+Vatican grasp.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then we are allies,&#8221; said His Excellency. &#8220;You
+will help me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gladly, and what is more, as a duty. But how?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Keep the two men apart, and treat both of them&mdash;both&mdash;with
+kindness.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His Excellency then rose, kissed her hands once
+more, and took his departure. Sara, when the door
+was closed, paced the floor with swift and desperate
+steps, as though she were encircled by thoughts which,
+linked together, danced round her way so that whether
+she retreated or advanced, swayed to the right or to the
+left, they held her fast.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p><h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+
+
+<p>Lord Garrow, under his daughter's command, had
+issued invitations for a dinner-party that same evening
+to a few friends, who, it was hoped, would support
+the Meeting which Reckage was endeavouring to
+organise as a protest against Dr. Temple's nomination.
+The guests included Reckage himself, Orange, Charles
+Aumerle, the Dowager Countess of Larch, Hartley
+Penborough, Lady Augusta Hammit, and the Bishop
+of Calbury's chaplain,&mdash;the Rev. Edwin Pole-Knox.</p>
+
+<p>Sara, arrayed in white satin and opals, sat at the
+piano playing the <i>Faust</i> of Berlioz, and wondering
+whether she had really arranged her table to perfection,
+when the footman brought the following note&mdash;dashed
+off in pencil&mdash;from Lord Reckage:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="i20"><span class="smcap">Almouth House</span>.</p><p class="nospaceabove">An extraordinary thing has happened. Agnes has run
+away with David Rennes. She seems quite broken and
+her letter is too touching, too sacred to show. As for him,
+it is difficult to say what he could give, or what I would
+accept, as an excuse. She, however, has my full forgiveness,
+and perhaps good may come of so much sorrow and duplicity.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>I must see you after the others have gone to-night. My
+plan is to leave early&mdash;probably with Orange and Aumerle,
+but I will return later. I need your counsel. B.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Sara, who was always in league with audacity,
+clapped her hands at the tidings of Miss Carillon's
+bold move. She was not surprised, for, as we have
+seen, she had read the girl's character truly, and
+warned Orange that some event of the kind would
+happen. But the pleasure she took in this confirmation
+of her own prophetic gifts was alloyed by the
+fear that Reckage, now at liberty, would prove a
+masterful, jealous, and embarrassing lover. Nor were
+her forebodings on this score lessened when he arrived,
+evidently in a strange mood, a quarter of an hour
+before the appointed time. His eyes travelled over
+her face with a consuming scrutiny to which she was
+unaccustomed and for which she found herself unprepared.
+For a moment she experienced the disadvantages
+of a guilty conscience, and although she
+had, so far, merely considered various plans for using
+his devotion without peril to her own independence,
+she felt that the moment for deliberation was past,
+that the duel between them had begun.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have my note,&#8221; he said, &#8220;and I would rather
+not talk about Agnes to-night. On that point I am
+in a stupor. I can't realise the disaster at all. I
+might seem unfeeling, whereas I am insensible, or
+unconscious, or mentally chloroformed&mdash;anything you
+like to call it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can see that you have received a great blow,&#8221;
+answered Sara, looking down.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose so. And at present I am stunned.
+Wait a week, and I may be able to grasp the case&mdash;I
+won't say calmly, for I couldn't be calmer than I
+am at this very moment. But I will say, with understanding,
+with justice. Give me no credit yet for
+either. To be frank, I don't recognise myself in
+this crisis. As a rule, I have an impulse&mdash;more or
+less violent&mdash;to some extreme measure.... I saw
+d'Alchingen this afternoon,&#8221; he added, abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>He did not add that the Prince had given several
+striking reasons for the Lady Sara's interest in Robert
+Orange. His Excellency, in so acting, may not have
+been aware that he was pouring such confidences into
+the ear of a jealous man, but he wished to divert
+gossip from himself, and he was becoming afraid lest
+his intimacy with the brilliant, dangerous girl might
+give rise to criticism. &#8220;She talks and writes incessantly
+about Orange,&#8221; he had said; &#8220;what a marriage
+it would be! I hope it may be brought about.&#8221;
+This suggestion drove Reckage's thoughts toward
+a fatal survey of the past year. He discovered, as
+he believed, irresistible proofs of Sara's infatuation,
+and, what was worse, clear evidence of Robert's sly
+encouragement of that weakness. Why else had he
+borne the severance from Mrs. Parflete with such
+astonishing fortitude? How else did he keep up his
+spirits in the face of a grotesque, if unfortunate,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>adventure? The answer was plain enough. Sara's
+sympathy and the reasonable hopes necessarily attached
+to so much kindness had sustained him through the
+bitterness of all his trials.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you ever thought,&#8221; said Reckage, with
+pretended carelessness, &#8220;that Orange's serenity just
+now is somewhat unnatural? Is it <i>all</i> religion?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I believe that neither of <i>us</i> can form any conception
+of his capacity for suffering, or the support
+he finds in his Belief.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It points to fanaticism, no doubt. He is a
+Cardinal <i>in petto</i>. The Catholics want spirit everywhere,
+and Orange has got spirit. His vocation lies
+toward the Vatican. His morals are as good as his
+build&mdash;which is saying much. D'Alchingen was
+remarking how extraordinarily well set-up he is. He
+would have done well in the army. He cuts an
+effective figure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He is distinguished; would one call him handsome?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There's a nobility about him, of course. I am
+wondering whether he is really so clever as many
+make out. He is learned and thoughtful; he has
+plenty of pluck and he's the best fellow in the world.
+But&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wish I knew him better,&#8221; sighed the young
+lady; &#8220;I liked him and believed in him on the
+strength of your recommendation. That was an
+immense prejudice in his favour.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She looked up with a sweet and trustful smile which
+would have satisfied a harder adversary than Reckage.
+He was not so hard, however, as he was egoistic, and
+it was not a question of softening his heart. Sara had
+the far more difficult task of soothing his tortured
+vanity.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't know,&#8221; he said, losing caution, &#8220;that I
+want you to take him up quite so strongly! No
+one could call him a coxcomb, yet he, not aware of
+the real cause of your interest, might be over-flattered.
+He might, eventually, begin to hope&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221; she asked, with burning cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All sorts of things. He's a man, and you are
+beautiful. And I have heard him say a thousand
+times that so-called Platonics are possible for one of
+the two, but never for both. Doesn't this explain the
+many cases of unrequited love? You are vexed,
+I can see it. But I am not thinking of you. I am
+thinking of Robert.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He is not so sentimental as you imagine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Isn't he? This affair with Mrs. Parflete was
+pure sentimentality from beginning to end&mdash;a poet's
+love. He would have another feeling for you&mdash;something
+much stronger. You are so human, Sara.
+I would far sooner kill you than write poetry to you.
+You are life&mdash;not literature. That little thing with
+shining hair and a porcelain face is for dreams. Of
+course, he will always love her&mdash;after a fashion. He
+might even compare you with her and find her your
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>superior in every way&mdash;except as a woman. We
+may be at moments poets, at moments saints, but the
+greater part of the time, a man is a man. And you
+are no friend for a man. Pensée Fitz Rewes might
+answer well enough; she has had sorrow, she has
+two children, she has a gentle, maternal air. But
+you&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>He threw back his head and laughed without
+mirth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You!&#8221; he repeated. &#8220;My God!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are talking very foolishly, Beauclerk. Perhaps
+it is your odd way of making yourself agreeable.
+It doesn't please me a bit to be told that I am a siren.
+My mind is full of the Bond of Association and your
+Meeting at St. James's Hall. How shamefully Lord
+Cavernake has behaved, but dear Lord Gretingham
+has come out well. What a miserable set we have in
+the Lords just now!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She was making these remarks as the clock struck
+the hour, and her father entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Beauclerk came early, dear papa,&#8221; said she,
+&#8220;because he had something to tell us. His engagement
+is broken off.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Garrow looked the grief appropriate to the
+news, and disguised, as well as he could, his dismay
+at its probable development. He murmured, &#8220;Tut!
+tut!&#8221; a number of times, held up his hands, and
+nodded his head from side to side.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wish nothing said against poor Agnes,&#8221; observed
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span>Reckage; &#8220;her mistakes are those of a generous,
+impetuous girl. Don't judge her hastily. All, I feel
+certain, has happened for the best.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tut! tut!&#8221; repeated his lordship.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am devoted to dear Agnes,&#8221; said Sara, &#8220;but
+I never, never thought that she was the wife for
+Beauclerk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then she stepped forward to greet Lady Augusta
+Hammit, who was at that moment announced. Lady
+Augusta was a tall woman about thirty-five years of
+age, with a handsome, sallow face, a superb neck,
+beautiful arms, hair the colour of ashes, pale lips, and
+large, gleaming white teeth. Unmarried, aristocratic,
+ordinarily well-off, and exceptionally pious according
+to her lights, she was a prominent figure in all work
+connected with the Moderate Party in the Church
+of England. In her opinion, foreigners might be
+permitted the idolatries of Rome; as for the English,
+Wesley was a lunatic; Pusey, a weak good creature;
+Newman was a traitor; Manning, a mistake. The
+one vital force on whom she depended for her spiritual
+illumination and her life's security was the Rev.
+Edwin Pole-Knox. &#8220;Pole-Knox,&#8221; she said, &#8220;will
+save us yet.&#8221; This good and industrious young man,
+a few years her junior, had been chaplain&mdash;mainly
+through Lady Augusta's devoted exertions&mdash;to three
+bishops. He did every credit to his patroness, but
+hints were already in the air on the subject of
+ingratitude. Some said he lacked ambition; others
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>murmured dark conjectures about his heartlessness.
+It was left to the Lady Augusta's fellow-labourers in
+the sphere of beneficence to blurt out, with odious
+vulgarity, that he would never marry her in this
+world. She entered the room that evening in
+her haughtiest manner, for Pole-Knox was following
+close upon her heels, and she wished to justify the
+extreme deference which he showed her so properly
+in public, and perhaps with morbid conscientiousness
+in <i>tête-à-tête</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't know how I shall get through the
+winter,&#8221; she observed, in reply to Lord Garrow's
+inquiries about her health. &#8220;I am working like a
+pack-horse.&#8221; Here she caught Pole-Knox's name
+and bowed mechanically, without seeing him, in his
+direction. The entire afternoon they had been looking
+together over the accounts of a Home for Female
+Orphans, and poor Lady Augusta had been forced to
+see that whatever fire and enthusiasm her <i>protégé</i>
+could display in tracking down the orphans' dishonest
+butcher, his respect where she was concerned verged
+on frigidity.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Larch was the next arrival, and as she
+was famous for her smile, she used it freely,
+not fatiguing herself by listening to remarks, or
+making them. In her youth she had been called
+bonnie; she was still pleasant to look upon. She
+talked very little, and perhaps on this account her
+few sayings were treasured, repeated throughout
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span>society, and much esteemed. &#8220;Surely it is a mistake
+to give men the notion that all good women are
+dull&#8221; was one of her classic utterances. Another
+ran, &#8220;Those who are happy do not trouble about the
+woes of the human race.&#8221; Another, &#8220;The Dissenters
+belong essentially to a non-governing class&mdash;a vulgar
+class.&#8221; These will serve to show the scope of her
+observation and the excellence of her intentions. In
+fact, she was often found dull. She was not especially
+disturbed about the woes of humanity, and her
+maternal grandfather had been a Presbyterian cotton-merchant.
+She bore Pole-Knox away to a far corner
+and begged to be told all the latest details of Miss
+Carillon's abominable conduct.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do not exactly know,&#8221; said she, &#8220;the state of
+things. The poor dear Bishop must be in a dreadful
+state.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Orange came in with Aumerle and Hartley Penborough.
+Lady Augusta, who was a kind, sincere
+woman, pressed his hand warmly, and showed with
+her eyes that she appreciated the difficulties of his
+position. He had aged, Sara thought, and he looked
+as though he suffered from sleeplessness; otherwise,
+in manner and in all ways, he was just as he had
+always been.</p>
+
+<p>Sara looked at him, and, looking, she read the secret
+thoughts in his mind. Yes, she was to him, no doubt,
+the undisciplined, passionate girl who lived on admiration,
+excitement, and false romance. He owned her
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span>beauty; he excused her faults; he liked her. Of all
+this she was certain. Reckage's warning had encouraged
+her to believe that Orange's self-control was
+a hard achievement&mdash;by no means any matter of a
+disposition naturally cold. If it were merely to be
+a struggle of wills, her will would prove the stronger.
+She meant to have her way this time. Wasn't it the
+critical moment of his life? Every instinct had been
+roused&mdash;ambition, the love of adventure, the love of a
+woman. For a short while the means had been given
+him, humanly speaking, of gratifying these great
+passions. And then, at a stroke, he was once more
+poor and dependent, once more in a ridiculous position,
+and the woman he loved was further from his reach
+than ever. He still had the privilege of fighting and
+breaking his heart in the market-place. He could
+still enjoy some kind of a career. Yet the long,
+embittering struggle with poverty and disappointed
+affection could but appear to him now desolate indeed,
+barely worth the difficult prizes of success. Lady
+Sara was young, and she made the mistake, eternally
+peculiar to her sex, of placing love first, rather than
+last, among the forces in a strong nature. No
+powerful being ever yet either stood by the glory, or
+fell by the disasters, of a love-affair alone, uncomplicated
+by other issues. It does its work: it must
+touch, in many ways, the whole character; but it is,
+in the essence of things, a cause&mdash;not an effect. To
+Sara there was one only consuming interest in life&mdash;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span>love.
+All her talents were directed to the gaining,
+understanding, and keeping of this wonderful human
+mystery. She wanted wild scenes and ungovernable
+emotions: she was beautiful enough to figure in such
+situations, and fascinating enough to indulge in such
+crises without offence to the artistic proprieties. But
+she had resolved that the hero of her existence must,
+at least, look his part. No one denied that Orange
+had a remarkable personality. Every one admitted
+that he was clever. These were the sternest estimates
+of his claim to social recognition. But she knew him
+to be a de Hausée. She thought him superbly handsome.
+She had Disraeli's opinion that he was a
+genius. Here was a case where love would not have
+to be blind. Love, in this case, could defy the scornful
+and the proud. At last she could say, &#8220;My fate!&#8221;
+and call the whole world to witness her surrender.
+&#8220;Whether he loves me, or whether he hates me,&#8221; she
+thought, &#8220;I have chosen him.&#8221; Sinætha, weaving
+spells by the moon, was not more determined or more
+irretrievably in love than Sara. The danger of such
+wild moods is as attractive to the very young as it is
+terrifying to the more mature. Perfectly conscious
+of her beauty, she felt able to defy, sue, and conquer
+at the same moment. Orange had never seen her to
+such brilliant advantage. The instant he entered the
+room and met her eyes, which shone with a most
+touching kind of timidity and a most flattering joy,
+he had to realise the need of strict discipline where
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>constancy is a rule of existence. Sara's laugh, movements,
+way of talking, played a good deal on the
+heart, but even more upon the senses. Brigit's lovely
+face gained intensity only under the influence of
+sorrow. Then it became human. At other times
+it was merely exquisite. Now Sara's countenance had
+all the changing qualities of nature itself. She had,
+too, the instinctive arts of sympathy which are so
+much rarer than the actual gift. Far enough was
+Sara from the triumph which she was imagining; far
+enough was Orange from the least disloyalty; but he
+was fully alive to the danger of regarding her as a
+woman to be fought against. To fight in such cases
+is to admit fear of conquest.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Those opals are beautiful,&#8221; said he, presently.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am glad you approve of&mdash;the opals.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you put them to a disadvantage.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;O! is that a compliment? The first you have
+ever paid me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you care about them?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;From you, yes. I was reading in Saint-Simon's
+Memoirs yesterday that your ancestor&mdash;Charles de
+Hausée&mdash;was the first swordsman, the bravest soldier,
+the hardest rider, and the best judge of women in
+France. But let us be serious. Lady Larch is
+wearing her brightest smile!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Must we be very earnest this evening?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am afraid so. You see, I have secured Pole-Knox.
+He has never been permitted to dine here
+before.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why not?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because I once told Lady Augusta that he was a
+man for the shortest part of the afternoon&mdash;not for
+evenings, at all. She couldn't forgive this.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Does she forgive it now?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. She has reached the stage when one may
+criticise him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That means a complete cure, I suppose.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Far from it&mdash;resignation to the worst that can
+be said of his character. There is no cure possible
+then.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you had any conversation with Reckage?&#8221;
+he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Sara coloured and put her fingers to her lips.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hush!&#8221; said she. &#8220;There's a deceptive quiet
+about him which puzzles me. But I don't think he
+is sorry to be rid of Agnes. A regiment of relatives
+drove him into the engagement. Now it has come to
+an end&mdash;let us thank God!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your own conscience is easy, I take it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have no right to ask such a question&mdash;none
+at all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Some men, you know, can be laughed out of their
+loves,&#8221; he continued.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Timorous men&mdash;yes! Is Reckage timorous?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You turned that most adroitly.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you. Please sit between Lady Augusta
+and Aumerle at dinner.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The dinner passed most agreeably. As little as
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>possible was said about the Meeting; each talked to
+his or her neighbour, and although the separate
+dialogues may have been profound, the general effect
+produced was one of restful flippancy. Pole-Knox
+remarked over his fish that England had little to fear&mdash;unless
+through the corruption of her religion, whereupon
+Penborough declared that religion in the country
+was a School, not a Church. To this Lady Augusta
+rejoined that Rome's strength depended merely on
+Canterbury's weakness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Forcing a change is a very ticklish business,&#8221; said
+Aumerle, studying the menu, and regretting that his
+digestion was not all it had been.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Garrow deplored the fact that Mr. Gladstone
+had embarked on a very vulgar and very false
+policy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But its vulgarity,&#8221; he sighed, &#8220;gives it a very
+easy reception.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He expects everything except docility,&#8221; said
+Penborough; &#8220;if the Opposition employ that means,
+they will embarrass all his calculations.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Reckage, meanwhile, was confiding to Sara&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I turned the horse round, rammed my spurs in,
+and put him at the rails again!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>One statement, made by Penborough, caused a
+flutter.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If Catherine of Arragon had been immoral and
+Mary Stuart virtuous, the whole course of European
+History would have been different. The Reforma<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>tion,
+for instance, would have found no favour in
+England.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That's <i>very</i> advanced,&#8221; murmured Lady Larch.</p>
+
+<p>Sara, at dessert, tried to encourage a debate on the
+egoism of the Saints compared with the egoism of
+Montaigne.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They were selfishly bent on pain and renunciation,
+he was selfishly bent on pleasure and indulgence.
+Isn't that the one difference between them, Mr.
+Orange?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Orange refused to be drawn, but he promised to
+lend her the <i>Acta Sanctorum</i> of the Bollandists in
+sixty volumes in folio.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;After you have read them,&#8221; said he, &#8220;I will tell
+you my ideas about Montaigne.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Many other remarks were probably more amusing;
+these, however, were the most characteristic.</p>
+
+<p>When dinner was ended, Sara and the two ladies
+withdrew to the drawing-room, where they discussed
+with the utmost vehemence Orange's illegal
+marriage and Reckage's broken engagement.</p>
+
+<p>The sum and substance of their investigations were
+as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Larch wondered what the world was coming to.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Augusta declared that no woman yet ever
+fathomed the heart of man.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Sara maintained that it was a very good thing
+for both young men to have had such reverses before
+they finally settled down.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p>
+<p>At this Lady Augusta forgot to sigh, and Lady
+Larch lost control of her smile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How,&#8221; exclaimed Augusta, &#8220;can they forget so
+soon? Can any settling down be in contemplation?
+Are no deep, sacred feelings left?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Emmeline Larch, who was a widow, said she
+would never be hard on any one who tried to recover,
+for the sake of others, from a shattering
+bereavement.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dear Lady Larch!&#8221; exclaimed Sara.</p>
+
+<p>The three women formed a picturesque group
+round the fireplace as the men entered. But the
+card-tables were already placed, and Sara lost no time
+in arranging a quartette for whist. Penborough had
+to leave for the <i>Times</i> office. Pole-Knox had to hurry
+back to Fulham. The young lady, who was known
+to detest all games, was thus able to choose Robert
+for her partner in a short conversation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Forgive me,&#8221; said she, &#8220;but&mdash;have you anything
+to tell me about Mrs. Parflete?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes; she is now with Pensée.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;May I call upon her? May I know her? Would
+she see me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;With pleasure, I am sure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't see her,&#8221; he said quietly; &#8220;I don't hear
+from her. I don't write to her. And&mdash;I don't talk
+about her. But I should like you to know her. She
+needs true friends&mdash;who understand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you been to Prince d'Alchingen's, or has he
+approached you in any way?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am to dine with him to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Has he said anything to you about the Marquis of
+Castrillon?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not a word,&#8221; replied Robert, in surprise: &#8220;why
+should he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I believe there is mischief in the air. Be careful,
+won't you? Reckage is watching us. I think he
+would like some music. He is so <i>triste</i> this evening.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She moved away, and played delightfully on the
+guitar until the guests rose to leave. Then she found
+an opportunity to tell Lord Reckage not to come back
+again. She was tired, she said, and her papa would
+think it too odd.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then to-morrow morning,&#8221; said he.</p>
+
+<p>She named an hour.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p><h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+
+
+<p>Robert, on leaving the house, drove to Grosvenor
+Gate, where he had an appointment with Disraeli.
+The ex-Minister was sitting, in a flowered dressing-gown,
+by the library fire. The blinds were not drawn,
+for the night was bright and starry; the moonlight
+streamed into the room, mingling strangely with the
+soft glow of the green-shaded lamp. There was a
+large bundle of documents on the table by Disraeli's
+side, and a pile of Continental newspapers on the
+floor. One of the latter he was reading, and, by
+the slight curl of his mouth and the gleam in his
+fine eyes, Orange saw that he was working out, to
+his amusement, some train of thought which gave full
+jurisdiction to his knowledge of humanity.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bismarck,&#8221; said he, &#8220;is the first German statesman
+who has not regarded newspapers as inconvenient
+lumber. He wishes the Press to advance his great
+ideas by assuming the place of the Universities in
+training public opinion, and the place of the Church
+in controlling it. He might as well strive to make
+the horse into the lion, the mule into the unicorn, a
+parrot into the soaring eagle! Any man who is
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span>written up into a place can be written down out
+of it. Our friend will learn this too late&mdash;probably
+about the time that we, in England, are adopting,
+with enthusiasm, his present error. Ah, my dear
+Orange, watch the sky and you will learn the hearts
+of men. Observe the changing light, the clouds
+driven by the wind, the glimpses of pure blue, the
+sudden blackness, the startling brilliancy, and then&mdash;the
+monotonous grey. They seem too hard for me,
+at times. The clash between ideas and interests
+makes our inheritance a grim battlefield, and there are
+moments of mortification when one may feel tempted
+to sell it&mdash;not for a mess of pottage, but for the <i>promise</i>
+of a mess of pottage. Tempted, I said. There is
+always a course left, if you have the courage to face
+it. It may avail you; I cannot insure you even that.
+But if I were in your place, I would try.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I could never do better, sir, than to follow your
+advice or your example.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never betray, then, the least depression at disappointments
+or reverses, but seize the few joyful
+occasions of life for the indulgence of any accumulated
+melancholy and bitterness. By this simple rule
+you will escape the charge urged against all the
+ambitious, who are usually as intoxicated by success
+as they are cowardly in adversity. It delights me to
+see you in high spirits. Tell me the news, but first
+give me your opinion of this little paragraph which
+will appear in to-morrow's <i>Times</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He took from his pocket-book a slip of paper on
+which was written the following in Mrs. Disraeli's
+hand:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>Mr. Orange, the new Member for Norbet Royal, is the
+son of a French nobleman of very ancient lineage. It
+was a condition of his adoption by the late Admiral Bertin
+that his own name should be dropped, and he has accordingly
+always borne that of the Orange family. The
+circumstances of his birth were communicated to the
+Queen before his naturalisation as a British subject, and
+his presentation, by Mr. Disraeli, at Court.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>&#8220;Was that necessary?&#8221; asked Robert.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A public man must speak out, and this expedient
+occurred to me as a slight pull in your favour. The
+two things in life which are really gratuitous are the
+grace of God and one's pedigree! The rest depends
+upon ourselves. Now you can't think how much I
+am interested in every little detail of your mental
+experiences. I believe you will be a Jesuit yet. I
+have never concealed my respect for the Jesuits.
+When Spain and France expelled the Society of
+Jesus, they persecuted their truest allies. A terrible
+price, too, they paid for that crime. You see, then,
+that I understand staunch Catholics. If I could rouse
+an Imperial feeling in England which would at all
+correspond with the feeling of Catholics for their
+Church! Sometimes I dream this may be possible.
+Pope, the satirist, remained, in spite of his wit, a loyal
+son of the Faith, while many dull worthies who
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span>shuddered at his epigrams were recanting daily either
+from fear or for some worldly advantage. In the
+same way, Robert, men who hate my novels because
+they contain a few truths, would sell England, if they
+could, to-morrow. I mentioned the fact about Pope
+to a gentleman who complains that you are by no
+means typical of your co-religionists in this country.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The very expression &#8216;typical Catholic&#8217; is a
+paradox,&#8221; replied Robert, who always accepted
+adverse criticism with good humour; &#8220;there is one
+Spirit, but it has many manifestations. From the
+apostles, saints and martyrs to the rank and file, we
+have to recognise the individuality of each soul. In
+fact, sir, is not that the very essence of the Church's
+teaching?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So I have always understood. And we have not
+heard the last of the &#8216;law of liberty&#8217;; although I
+observe to my chagrin that many modern Papists
+depart from those great principles which they should
+take every opportunity of claiming as their own. In
+the freezing snows of the world's solitude, a prudent
+man does not try to make himself happy, but he is
+less than a man if he allows others to make him
+wretched. The flesh has its discomfort: the spirit,
+however, has its illimitable conjectures. When all
+else fails me, I may still find solace in conjectures.
+Does it strike you that they may have, nevertheless,
+a danger also?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is your own way of asking me whether I
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>know my own mind! If you mean, Have I put all
+sentiment resolutely from my thoughts, Yes. If you
+mean, Have I determined to continue in my present
+line till I have a call to some other vocation, Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His heart was troubled, full of vague combinations.
+The events of the day had seemed mechanical, foolish&mdash;a
+course of sorrowful attempting and self-reproach.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Both of your affirmatives are satisfactory,&#8221; said
+Disraeli; &#8220;you are, I see, what the Americans call a
+&#8216;whole-hog man.&#8217; Now let us consider ways and
+means. I saw Prince d'Alchingen this afternoon.
+He announces the increased distress and reformation
+of Parflete. We must therefore prepare for further
+villainy. Mrs. Parflete has confided to d'Alchingen
+her desire to go on the stage. He encourages this
+ambition, and she has accepted his invitation to Hadley
+Lodge, where she will recite in his private <i>salle de
+comédie</i>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Robert, though much taken by surprise, betrayed
+no sign of it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You cannot tell what she will do&mdash;until she does
+it,&#8221; he answered. &#8220;She may have great talents.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, one forgets that when Voltaire said, &#8216;<i>Il faut
+cultiver notre jardin</i>,&#8217; he was quoting, with sardonic irony,
+Saint Teresa! You cannot be pleased at Mrs. Parflete's
+decision. The theatre in England is a sport&mdash;not an
+art. In France it is an art, but,&#8221; he added drily, &#8220;it
+embraces more than one profession.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whether a woman be a saint, a queen, or an
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span>actress&mdash;once before the public&mdash;she is exposed to
+severe discipline. And I don't fear for this one.
+She will take her revenge on life by laughing at it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I daresay. D'Alchingen calls her <i>un peu étourdi</i>.
+She has the audacity&mdash;she may have the fortune of
+despair. Confess&mdash;you have run a little wild about her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I ran off the track, if you like,&#8221; said Orange,
+smiling.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Women fascinate the hearts, but they do not
+affect the destinies of determined men,&#8221; returned
+Disraeli. &#8220;If you have not won anything by this
+affair, it would be hard to say what winning is. There
+is but one feeling and one opinion about the really
+courageous stand you have made.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I must gain confidence all the same in my own
+ability to keep my resolves when they are clear to me.
+I once prided myself in that ability as the one gem in
+my character.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You may laugh at yourself as much as you
+please. Beauty is as well worth admiring as anything
+on earth, and the world is better lost for love, than
+love for the world. At least, let us say so. I met
+Reckage at the Travellers' yesterday, and had some
+talk with him about his Association. I think it far
+better that Aumerle should not resign, as he could,
+and probably would, be very mischievous as a freelance.
+Reckage is all for shaking him off, but these
+things, in any circumstances, should never be forced.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I advised Reckage myself to sound each member
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span>of the Committee privately. Then, at the general
+meeting, he could form some just estimate of the
+difficulties in his way, and in their way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Reckage, though a mean fellow, might give you
+an opportunity to work a strong Sub-Committee,&#8221;
+suggested Disraeli. &#8220;One cannot calculate on the
+course of a man so variable and impulsive. He proposes
+to get rid of Aumerle, and make concessions to
+his set. It is an unhappy policy, and always unhappily
+applied, to imagine that men can be reconciled by
+partial concessions. I attribute much of Reckage's
+behaviour to his fear of society. Society itself, however,
+does not practise any of the virtues which it
+demands from the individual. It ridicules the highest
+motives, and degrades the most heroic achievements.
+It is fed with emotions and spectacles: it cries,
+laughs, and condemns without knowledge and without
+enthusiasm. Pitiable indeed is the politician who
+makes society his moral barometer.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have urged him to be firm. Christianity was
+never yet at peace with its age. There is no other Faith
+whose first teacher was persecuted and crucified.
+Viewed solely as a point of administration, it is disastrous
+to cut religious thought according to the
+fashionable pattern of the hour. This has been the
+constant weakness of English Churchmen. They try
+to match eternity with the times.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My opinion is that Reckage must act with considerable
+caution, or he will find himself repudiated by
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span>every party. The English like a fellow to stand by
+his guns. I come now to your own business. Will
+you do me a favour? Before you reply let me define
+it. I have been asked to send some good speaker to
+Hanborough. The occasion is the opening of a Free
+Library. Remarks&mdash;of a laudatory nature&mdash;on the
+princely munificence of Hanborough's mayor, Hanborough's
+corporation, Hanborough's leading citizens,
+a eulogy of their public glories and private
+virtues&mdash;with a little thrown in about Shakespeare,
+Scott, and the Lord-Lieutenant of the county&mdash;would
+be adequately appreciated. The attendance
+will be large: the nobility, gentry, and clergy of the
+neighbourhood will flower about you on the platform;
+a banquet will follow in the evening, and in the
+morning blushing girls will hand you bouquets at the
+railway station. Can you refuse?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not easily, I admit,&#8221; said Robert, laughing; &#8220;but
+Reckage is rather low and unhappy just now about his
+broken engagement. Wouldn't such an adventure
+as this take him out of himself?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is not an adventure&mdash;this is an opportunity,&#8221;
+said Disraeli; &#8220;it would be nursed into a stepping-stone.
+I know fifty men who are worrying themselves
+to death to get it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You need not tell me that,&#8221; replied Robert, with
+gratitude. &#8220;It would be a great thing for me. But
+Reckage is always at his best in functions of the kind.
+Hanborough might make much of him, and then
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span>his Association would feel flattered by reflected
+honours.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You invariably set your face against your own
+advantages, and I am afraid I shall not live to see you
+where you ought to be. However, Reckage shall have
+the invitation. Now, good-night. By the by, have
+you heard that Castrillon is now in the marriage-market?
+His mistress has given her consent, and
+the Prince has promised his blessing. Could things
+look more auspicious? Good-night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For the second time that evening Castrillon's name
+fell with a warning note on Robert's ear. Disraeli,
+he knew, would not have mentioned him out of sheer
+idleness. There was some danger threatening in that
+quarter, and it was impossible to dissociate this from
+Brigit. The Marquis of Castrillon had been with her
+in Madrid, and also at Baron Zeuill's palace after the
+escape from Loadilla.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where is Castrillon now?&#8221; asked Robert.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I understand he is in London,&#8221; answered Disraeli;
+&#8220;at Claridge's Hotel. D'Alchingen and he are on
+excellent terms.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good!&#8221; said Robert, tightening his lips. &#8220;You
+will find he has been invited to Hadley.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I haven't a doubt of it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then I must contrive to see him first.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Early the following morning Orange presented
+himself at the house of an old, very devout priest
+of his acquaintance.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Father,&#8221; said he, &#8220;this afternoon or to-morrow I
+may be in circumstances of danger.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What danger is this?&#8221; asked the priest.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is a man whom I may be compelled, in
+defence of my honour, to challenge to a duel.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To approach the Sacrament in such a frame of
+mind,&#8221; said the old man, &#8220;is not to prepare yourself
+for danger. For to come to confession with a determination
+of taking vengeance is to put an obstacle to
+the grace of the Sacrament. You must preserve your
+honour by some other way. Indeed, the honour you
+think to preserve by this is not real honour, but merely
+the estimation of bad men founded on bad principles.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; said Orange, hotly; &#8220;it is impossible,
+however, to withdraw now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you should be beaten,&#8221; returned the other, who
+had been in the army himself as a youth, and could
+comprehend the worldly view of the situation, &#8220;if you
+should be beaten, what becomes of the honour you
+wish to defend? And if you should be killed in that
+state of soul in which you go to the duel, you will go
+straight to hell and everlasting shame.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I implore you, Father, to pray for me, and to
+hear my confession, if you possibly can.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Certainly, I cannot hear you,&#8221; said the priest.
+&#8220;But this is what I will do. Wear this <i>Agnus Dei</i>,
+and perhaps God will have mercy on you for the sake
+of this, and afford you time for penance. Understand,
+however, I do not give it to you in order to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span>encourage you in your bad purpose, but that you may
+wear it with all reverence and respect, and perhaps be
+moved to obedience.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Robert thanked him, accepting the gift in a right
+spirit. His self-will, however, was aroused. He had
+determined to fight Castrillon, and fight he would.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span></p><h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+
+
+<p>Sara awoke that same morning with a foreboding
+heart. She wrote a letter to Reckage postponing his
+call, and another to Pensée Fitz Rewes, asking her to
+be at home that afternoon. At half-past two the
+young lady drove up, in her brougham, to the widow's
+door in Curzon Street. The blinds were down, and
+the house gave every indication that its owner was
+not in London. Sara, however, was admitted, and
+Pensée received her in a little room, hung with lilac
+chintz and full of porcelain, at the back of the house.
+Pensée, wearing a loose blue robe, seemed over-excited
+and sad&mdash;with that sadness which seems to fall upon
+the soul as snow upon water. She was reclining on
+the sofa, reading a worn copy of Law's <i>Serious Call</i>
+which had belonged to the late Viscount, and bore
+many of his pencil-marks. This in itself was to Sara
+a sign of some unusual melancholy in her friend.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; she said, kissing her soft, pale cheek,
+&#8220;why didn't you let me know that you had returned?
+I thought you were still in Paris.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My dear,&#8221; said Pensée, sitting up with a sudden
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span>movement and supporting herself on her two hands.
+&#8220;I am no longer my own mistress. I have become
+a puppet&mdash;a marionette: a kind of lady-in-waiting&mdash;a
+person to whom women talk when they have
+nothing to say, and to whom men talk when they
+have nothing to do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sara chose a seat and studied the speaker with a
+new curiosity. She was charming; vexation gave
+humanity to her waxen features, and the flash in her
+eyes suggested hitherto unsuspected fires in her
+temperament, &#8220;She has more spirit than I gave her
+credit for,&#8221; thought Sara, and she added, &#8220;Darling!&#8221;
+aloud.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Darling, indeed!&#8221; said Pensée. &#8220;I can tell you
+I am tired of being a darling. There are limits.... I
+have no patience with Brigit, and Robert drives me
+to the conclusion that good men are fools&mdash;fools! I
+suppose he told you that I was in town again?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, he won't come and see me himself because
+<i>she</i> is here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is merely a decision on principle. He longs
+to come.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Quite so. But the girl does not deserve him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sara showed no astonishment; she maintained her
+thoughtful air, and replied with tranquillity&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He thinks she is perfect.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I find no vulgar faults in her, myself, although
+there seems no foolish thing left that she hasn't done.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span>I am sure that every one will think her light, worldly,
+and frivolous. Let me say what I have been through.
+After the first terrible day and night at St. Malo, there
+was no more crying. There was not another tear.
+We went to Paris. She spent all her mornings at
+Notre Dame, all her afternoons with old Monsieur
+Lanitaux of the Conservatoire, all her evenings at the
+theatre. She found many of her mother's old friends.
+In the theatrical world I find much loyalty toward
+those actually born in the profession. They treated
+her as though she were a young queen. Lanitaux
+managed to get her privately before the Empress
+Eugénie. She sang for the Empress: the Empress
+cried and gave her an emerald ring.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then she has talent.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Genius, I believe,&#8221; said Pensée, solemnly. &#8220;This
+makes her hateful and lovable at the same moment.
+She is determined to be an actress. She never speaks
+of Robert, and she shuts herself up in her room
+reciting Marivaux and Molière. The d'Alchingens
+have invited her to Hadley next Saturday. They
+encourage her theatrical ideas. And why? They
+wish her to lose caste. She is an Archduchess, Sara,
+an Alberian Archduchess. What a living argument
+against unequal marriages!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will she go to Hadley?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes&mdash;wholly against my advice. I don't trust
+Prince d'Alchingen.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How I wish I could see her!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She is in the library now. I will ask her to come
+down.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pensée left the room, and Sara paced the floor till
+she returned.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She is coming,&#8221; said Pensée, &#8220;be nice to her&mdash;for
+Robert's sake!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sara nodded, and both women watched the door till
+the handle moved, and Mrs. Parflete entered.</p>
+
+<p>She was dressed in violet silk without ornaments or
+jewels of any description. Her face was slightly
+flushed, and the colour intensified the pale gold diadem
+of her blonde hair. The expression&mdash;sweet-tempered,
+yet a little arrogant&mdash;of her countenance and its
+long oval form bore a striking resemblance to the
+early portraits of Marie Antoinette. Her under-lip
+had also a slight outward bend, which seemed an
+encouragement when she smiled, and contemptuous
+when she frowned. Her figure&mdash;though too slight
+even for a girl of seventeen&mdash;was extraordinarily
+graceful, and, in spite of her height, she was so
+well proportioned that she did not appear too tall.
+Youth showed itself, however, in a certain childlikeness
+of demeanour&mdash;a mixture of timidity, confidence,
+embarrassment, and, if one looked in her
+face for any sign of the emotions she had experienced,
+or the scenes in which she had played
+no feeble part, one sought in vain. Gaiety covered
+the melancholy, almost sombre depths in her character.
+And it was the gaiety of her French
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span>mother&mdash;petulant, reckless, irresistible, giddy, uncertain.
+As a child, dressed up in ribbons and lace, with
+flowers in her hair, she had been the chief amusement
+and plaything of Madame Duboc&mdash;to be held on her
+lap, perched upon the piano, placed on high cushions
+in the carriage, and lifted on the table of the drawing-room,
+where she entertained a brilliant, if dissipated
+company, by her talk, her little songs, her laughter, her
+mimicry, and her dancing. She rarely danced now,
+yet all the seductive arts of perfect dancing seemed
+hers by right of birth. Each movement, each gesture
+had a peculiar charm, and her dark blue eyes, the more
+provocative for their lack of passion, were full of a
+half-mocking, half-tender vivacity. Sara, a beautiful
+young woman herself, surveyed this unconscious rival
+and recognised, with good sense, a fatal attractiveness
+which was stronger than time and far above beauty.
+It was the spell of a spirit and body planned for
+fascination and excelling in this indefinable power.
+Had she been born to ruin men? thought Sara. Had
+she been given a glamour and certain gifts merely to
+perplex, deceive, and destroy all those who came
+within the magic of her glance? History had its
+long, terrible catalogue of such women whose words
+are now forgotten, whose portraits leave us cold, yet
+whose very names still agitate the heart and fire the
+imagination. Was Brigit one of these?</p>
+
+<p>She had nothing of the deliberate coquette who,
+eager to please, keeps up an incessant battery of airs
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span>and graces. Her enchantments depended rather on
+the fact that she neither asked for admiration nor
+valued it. Free from vanity, and therefore indifferent
+to criticism, the bitternesses which destroy the peace of
+most women never entered her mind. The man she
+had chosen gave her no cause for jealousy, and, while
+she enjoyed men's society, she had been so accustomed
+to it from her earliest days that she had nothing to fear
+from the novelty of their friendship, or the danger of
+their compliments. Not prudish, not morbid, not
+envious, not sentimental, and not indolent, she was
+perhaps especially endowed for the tantalising career
+which the stage offers to the ambitious of both sexes.
+Acting came to her as music comes to the true
+musician. She never considered whether she would
+become a great actress or a rejected one: the art in
+itself was her delight, and she found more happiness
+in reciting Molière and Shakespeare alone in her own
+room than she ever received, even at the height of her
+fame, from her triumphs before the world. There
+was, no doubt, a great craving in her nature for
+innocent pleasures and excitement. She loved gay
+scenes, bright lights, beautiful clothes, lively music,
+witty conversation. She had been born for the
+brilliant Courts of the eighteenth century when life
+in each class was more highly concentrated than is
+possible now&mdash;when love was put to severer tests,
+hatred permitted a crueller play, politics asked a more
+intricate genius, and art controlled the kingdom of the
+Graces.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span></p>
+<p>The three women as they faced each other presented
+a remarkable picture. Pensée, the eldest, who
+alone knew the lessons of physical pain, had a pathetic
+grace which made her seem, in comparison with the
+others&mdash;radiant with untried health,&mdash;some gentle,
+plaintive spirit from a sadder sphere. Her clinging
+blue robe appeared too heavy for the frail body; her
+fair curls and carefully arranged <i>chignon</i> were too
+modish for the ethereal yet anxious countenance; the
+massive wedding-ring seemed too coarse a bond for the
+almost transparent hand which trembled nervously on
+the cover of the <i>Serious Call</i>. Sara, in black velvet
+and sable, with ostrich plumes and golden beads, with
+flashing eyes and a gipsy's flush, with all the self-command
+of a woman trained for society, living for
+it and in it, with all the self-assurance of a woman in
+an unassailable position, handsome, rich, flattered,
+spoiled, domineering, and unscrupulous, with all the
+insolence of an egoism which no human force could
+humiliate and no human antagonist terrify, Sara seemed
+the one who was destined to succeed superbly in the
+war of life. Mrs. Parflete&mdash;whose courage, determination,
+and powers of endurance were concealed
+by a face which might have been made of lovely
+gauze&mdash;seemed less a being than a poetical creation: a
+portrait by Watteau or Fragonard stepped from its
+frame, animated by pure fancy, and moving, without
+sorrow and without labour, through a charmed
+existence.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p>
+<p>She made two steps forward when Sara advanced to
+meet her, holding out both hands and smiling with
+real kindness at the sight of a delightful apparition
+which looked too fragile to excite such a fierce emotion
+as jealousy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I believe we are to meet at Hadley,&#8221; said Sara.
+&#8220;I hear you are going to act.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied Brigit, with a slight note of irony
+in her musical voice. &#8220;I am going to act.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How charming! And what will you play?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I play the Marquise in one of Marivaux's
+comedies.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And who will play the Marquis?&#8221; asked Sara.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is no Marquis,&#8221; answered Brigit, laughing
+a little. &#8220;But,&#8221; she added, &#8220;there is a Chevalier and
+a Comte. One of Prince d'Alchingen's attachés will
+play the Comte. M. de Castrillon will play the part
+of the Chevalier.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Castrillon!&#8221; exclaimed Sara, in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The Marquis of Castrillon!&#8221; cried Pensée, turning
+livid; &#8220;pray, pray put it off till you have heard
+from Baron Zeuill. Dear Brigit! for my sake, for
+Robert's&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is for your sake and Robert's that I have
+accepted the invitation to Hadley. I wish you would
+understand. I must show them all that I mean what
+I say.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But Castrillon is a wicked wretch&mdash;a libertine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We have already acted together in this very piece
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span>at Madrid. Much depends on my playing well next
+Saturday. I am quite sure of his talent, and, in such
+a case, his private morals are not my affair. He is no
+worse than Prince d'Alchingen was, and most of his
+associates are.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can't know what you are saying,&#8221; answered
+Pensée. &#8220;You will be so miserable when you find
+you have been madly obstinate. It is very hard, in a
+country like England, for a young woman to set herself
+in opposition to certain prejudices.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are the Duke and Duchess of Fortinbras respectable?&#8221;
+asked Brigit.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What a question!&#8221; said Pensée; &#8220;of course
+they are most exclusive.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then if they are quite willing that their daughter
+Clementine should marry Castrillon, surely he may
+play the Chevalier to my Marquise.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't think, Pensée,&#8221; put in Sara, &#8220;that
+Castrillon is exactly tabooed. In fact, one meets him
+everywhere in Paris, and, beyond a doubt, the Fortinbrases
+and the Huxaters and the Kentons made a great
+fuss over him last season. But do you <i>like</i> him?&#8221; she
+said, suddenly turning to Brigit.</p>
+
+<p>The question was skilful.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't take him seriously,&#8221; answered Brigit;
+&#8220;he has the great science of <i>l'excellent ton dans le
+mauvis ton</i>. You would say&mdash;&#8216;he is vulgar in the
+right way.&#8217; I feel sure he never deceived women.
+They may have been foolish but they must have been
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>frail before they met him! He can be ridiculous in
+five languages, but he cannot be sincere in one
+of them. As for his wickedness, one must have
+more than bad intentions; one must have the
+circumstances. I have nothing to fear from M. de
+Castrillon. He knows me perfectly well.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am simply wretched about you,&#8221; said Pensée;
+&#8220;of your future I dare not think. I try to be
+<i>sympathique</i>, and your difficulties come very home
+to me because I have had such great sorrows myself.
+But I have little hopes of doing any good while you
+are so self-willed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dearest,&#8221; exclaimed Brigit: &#8220;trust me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My child, you are &#8216;wiser in your own eyes than
+seven men that can render a reason.&#8217; I implore you
+to abandon this mad scheme; I implore you to
+abandon these wrong&mdash;these dangerous ideas of the
+stage. I know how much I am asking, and how
+little right I have to ask anything, but I think you
+ought to listen to me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Brigit, with a sparkling glance at Sara, stroked
+Pensée's cheek, and pinched her small ear.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Mon cher coeur</i>,&#8221; said she, &#8220;I do not forget your
+goodness. And I needed it, for I have been so
+wretched and forsaken. My soul is weighed down
+with troubles, and grief, and anxiety: each day I
+expect some new misfortune: you are the one friend
+I may keep. But you would not know how to
+imagine the intrigues and falsehoods which surround
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span>me on every side. <i>O mon amie</i>, I must prove to them
+that I want nothing they can give me&mdash;that I possess
+nothing which they can take away.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know what she means, Pensée,&#8221; said Sara;
+&#8220;she has to show d'Alchingen that her interests are
+fixed on art&mdash;not politics. And, from her point of
+view, she is right. I must say so, although I don't
+wish to interfere. And so long as she knows M. de
+Castrillon, it is better taste to make her first appearance
+with him than with some strange actor engaged
+for the occasion. After all, Mario was well known
+as the Marchese di Candia before he adopted the
+operatic stage as a profession. As for gossip, how is
+anybody's tongue to be stopped?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do not expect that people's tongues should be
+stopped,&#8221; rejoined Pensée.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What the world says of me I have learned to
+disregard very much,&#8221; said Brigit: &#8220;if I vex my
+friends, I must nevertheless follow my vocation. It
+was good enough for my mother. I do not apologise
+for her existence, nor do I offer excuses for my own.
+She was an actress: I am an actress. She succeeded:
+I may not succeed. But if you fear for my faith and
+my character, it would be quite as easy to lose both
+in the highest society as in the vilest theatres! I
+foresee mistakes and difficulties. They must come.
+I shan't have a happy life, dearest Pensée: I
+don't look for happiness. Why then do you scold
+me?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am not scolding,&#8221; said Lady Fitz Rewes: &#8220;I
+have never blamed you, never&mdash;in my heart. We
+shall get on better now that we have brought ourselves
+to speak out. How different it is when one
+judges for oneself or for another! I do believe in
+having the courage of one's convictions. But it was
+my duty to warn you&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is all I wanted,&#8221; exclaimed Brigit; &#8220;that
+we should understand each other and stand close by
+each other. I am not on the edge of a precipice&mdash;I
+am at the bottom of it already!&#8221; Her eyes had
+grown calm from the mere force of sadness. &#8220;You
+mustn't ask me to look back,&#8221; she added: &#8220;you
+mustn't ask me to choose again. A simple, quiet life
+is out of the question now. I have to learn how to
+forget.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She moved to the door, kissed her hand to Pensée,
+and bowed prettily to Sara.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I must get back to my work,&#8221; she said, and so
+left them. The two women turned toward each
+other.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is no hope for Orange,&#8221; observed Sara
+drily: &#8220;no man would ever forget her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He needn't forget her, but&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, it would have to be sheer, absolute forgetfulness.
+I like her. I like all beautiful things&mdash;pictures,
+statues, bronzes, porcelains, and white
+marble visions! She is a white marble vision. And
+Orange will love her forever and ever and ever.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span>And when she is dead, he will love her still
+more!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She threw back her head and laughed&mdash;till Pensée
+laughed also. Then they wished each other goodbye,
+and parted.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span></p><h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+
+
+<p>When Sara reached home, she was dismayed to hear
+that Lord Reckage had called during her absence and
+was waiting for her return. The prospect of an interview
+with him seemed so disagreeable that she walked
+first to the library, and sat there alone, for some
+moments, before she could summon the presence of
+mind which every sense warned her would be required
+for the ordeal. At last, with a pinched heart, she went
+up the great staircase, and found Reckage writing at
+her own table in the drawing-room. He turned
+quickly, and jumped to his feet at the rustle of her
+dress. He was looking unusually handsome, she
+thought, very animated, very dashing.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will forgive these clothes,&#8221; said he, &#8220;but I
+have ordered Pluto round at four o'clock, and I am
+going for a long ride.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What a strange idea!&#8221; she answered, taking off
+her gloves. &#8220;Where are you going?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To Hampstead Heath. I need the air and the
+exercise. I have to compose a speech.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The speech for the Meeting?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His brow darkened, and he pushed back with his
+foot a log which was falling from the open grate.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, not that speech. Another. Disraeli has
+asked me to go in his stead to Hanborough. I don't
+like to attach over-importance to the invitation, but
+he must mean it as an encouragement. Evidently, he
+wishes to show that Aumerle and the rest are without
+any shadow of right in their attacks. I have been
+above five years working up this society, and if, at the
+end of that time, I am president only by dint of
+<i>family interest</i>, be assured the situation cannot be
+worth having. When I leave, it will go all to
+pieces.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you don't intend to leave, surely?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Indeed, I do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you hinted at resignation?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, I sha'n't hint. Hints belong to the unconsidered
+patience of fools. I won't give them an inkling
+of my real tactics. Let them lollop along in their
+own wretched fashion to some final imbecility! I
+have other matters to think of, Sara. Doesn't Disraeli's
+action say, as delicately as possible, that I am wasting
+my time over small men? I have been altogether too
+easy of access. Simplicity and consideration are
+thrown away on the Snookses and the Pawkinses!
+With these gentry, one must be a vulgar, bragging
+snob, or they think one is not worth knowing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you owe it to yourself and to Orange to hold
+the Meeting to-morrow?&#8221; she said, anxiously.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;There is a way out of it,&#8221; he answered, avoiding
+her eyes. &#8220;We can talk of that presently.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing interests me more.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is not true,&#8221; he said, taking a chair near her;
+&#8220;there are many things which must interest both of
+us much, much more than that stupid Meeting.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I prefer not to speak of them now, Beauclerk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can't go on in this uncertainty. I am beginning
+to think I am a blundering fellow&mdash;where women are
+concerned. When we were together as children, I
+seem to remember, looking back, that I always did
+the wrong thing. And later&mdash;when you came out
+and I fancied myself a man of the world, it was the
+same. I don't know exactly what a girl is at eighteen,
+but I know that a fellow of twenty-five is an ass.
+He is probably well-meaning: he isn't hardened by
+ambition and he is pretty sentimental, as a rule. Yet
+he doesn't have fixed ideas. One day it dawned upon
+me that I was in love.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now don't say that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I repeat it. I am far from wishing to pose as a
+martyr, but whenever one is happy, all one's friends
+think that one is going to make some fatal mistake.
+I suppose no battle can be won without a battle. But
+life has always had a good deal of painfulness to me,
+and I hate opposition. It isn't lack of courage on
+my part&mdash;I can fight an enemy to the death. When
+it comes to quarrelling with relatives or those I care
+about&mdash;well, I own I can seldom see good reasons for
+keeping a stiff neck.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am perfectly convinced of your spirit, Beauclerk;
+every circumstance serves to show it. There was
+never a time when you did the wrong thing&mdash;in my
+judgment.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are generous, but I dare not believe you
+there. Much that I did and all that I left unsaid
+must have puzzled you. I wouldn't speak now, Sara,
+if I didn't feel sure that in spite of my faults, my
+stupidity, my want of self-knowledge, you saw that I
+was destined to love you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was impossible to deny this fact. She had been
+well aware always of his affection, and the certainty
+had given a peculiar emotional value to every scene&mdash;no
+matter how commonplace&mdash;to every occasion, no
+matter how crowded, to every conversation, no matter
+how trivial&mdash;in which he figured or his name transpired.
+He and poor Marshire were the two men in the
+world who really loved her. Marshire was the more
+desperate because he was less intelligent and had fewer
+interests; Reckage loved her with all the force of a
+selfish, vain, and spoilt nature. Such a passion she
+knew was not especially noble and certainly not ideal.
+But it was strong, and it made him submissive.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sara,&#8221; he said, &#8220;you have got to help me.&#8221; He
+put his arm round her waist, and as she inclined her
+face ever so slightly toward his, he kissed her cheek.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How can I help you?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let us marry.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't wish to marry any one just yet, Beauclerk,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span>&#8221;
+she said; &#8220;I like my liberty. I don't feel that I
+should make either a good wife, or a contented one, as
+I am now. I want to see more and think more before
+I give up my will to another.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I would not ask you to give up your will.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We should be utterly miserable if I didn't.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Believe me, it is the weak, effeminate creature
+who wishes to control women. Men of character
+respect women of character. These fellows who
+declare that they will be masters in their own house
+are masters nowhere else. I delight in your spirit.
+Orange and I have often agreed,&#8221; he added, with a
+searching look, &#8220;that you are the most brilliant girl
+in England.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why do you quote Robert?&#8221; she said carelessly;
+&#8220;isn't your opinion enough for me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can you pretend that his opinion has no weight
+with you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She laughed, and stroked his arm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My dear, why should I pretend anything? To
+tell the truth, I am surprised that Orange has noticed
+me. I saw Mrs. Parflete to-day. I understand his
+infatuation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have always told you that she was a very pretty
+woman. But why is it that, no matter where we
+start, we always come back to Orange? I am getting
+sick of him. I dislike being <i>affiché</i>, as it were, to
+some one else. This marriage of his pursues me. If
+I go into a club, if I dine, if I ride, if I walk&mdash;ten to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span>one if I am not pelted with questions about Mrs.
+Parflete, or Robert's history, or his genius, or his
+future plans. I must drop him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Drop him?&#8221; she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. It doesn't help me to appear so friendly with
+a Roman. I know he is very fine, but I have to consider
+my own position. They all say that it would
+be madness to take the chair now at his meeting.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But it was <i>your</i> meeting, Beauclerk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In the first place, perhaps. I thought, too, it might
+be a good, independent move. Disraeli's invitation to
+Hanborough puts another complexion on affairs. It is
+the first formal recognition that he, as Leader, has ever
+given me. It is a reminder of my responsibilities.
+He is fond of Orange, I know, and he wouldn't hurt
+his feelings, or seem to put a spoke in his wheel, for
+all the world. But Dizzy is subtle. He likes to test
+one's <i>savoir vivre</i>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shall you tell Orange that you intend to throw
+him over?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not yet.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, you ought!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why? I want the meeting to take place. It
+will be useful in its way&mdash;it may show us how public
+opinion is going.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sara hid her contempt by rising from her chair and
+removing her hat. Reckage watched the play of her
+arms as she stood before the mirror, and he did not see,
+as she could, the reflection of his face&mdash;sensual, calcu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span>lating,
+and, stormed as it was for the moment by the
+meanest feelings of self-interest, repellent.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How I hate him!&#8221; she thought; &#8220;how I despise
+him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then she turned round, smiling&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hats make my head ache! So you think the
+meeting will be useful?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Emphatically. It did occur to me that I might
+drop a line to Robert&mdash;in fact, I was writing to him
+when you came in. Here's the letter, as you see,
+signed and sealed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do send it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; he answered, putting it back into his pocket;
+&#8220;one could only get him on the platform just now by
+making him believe that such an action would, in
+some way, help me. You don't know Robert.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I daresay not, but I know that much.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This being the case, why upset him at the eleventh
+hour?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She made no reply, and before Reckage could speak
+again, the servant announced the arrival of his horse.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I intend to ride like the devil, Sara,&#8221; he said;
+&#8220;and I wish you could come with me. What rides
+we used to have&mdash;long ago! You were a larky little
+thing in those days, darling!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He bent down and kissed her lips.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You shall marry me&mdash;or no one,&#8221; said he; &#8220;but
+you are cold: you are not very nice to me. I suppose
+it's your way. You wouldn't be yourself if you were
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span>like other women. You are not a woman, you're a
+witch. Must I go now?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sara had opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, you know how Pluto hates to wait.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That animal will be the death of me yet. Will
+you stand on the balcony and watch me till I am out
+of sight? Have pretty manners&mdash;for once.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very well.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She went on to the balcony, watched him mount,
+and ride away. He turned several times to gaze back
+at her picturesque figure, dim, but to him lovely in
+the gathering dusk.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span></p><h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>Robert, after his interview with the priest, returned
+to his old lodgings in a top floor of Vigo Street&mdash;for
+he had left Almouth House, where Reckage's
+hospitality, kind as it was, suited neither his pride
+nor his mood. He was greatly in debt, and although
+his salary from Lord Wight and his literary earnings
+represented a sure income, it stood at what he called
+the &#8220;early hundreds.&#8221; The tastes, habits, and pursuits
+of those with whom he spent his time were delightful,
+no doubt, but they were costly. A box at the
+play; the cricket-match party, little dinners, and a
+rubber of whist, or a quiet game of vingt-et-un;
+the lunches here, the suppers there; the country
+houses where, in the winter, one could dine and
+sleep and hunt the next day, and, in the autumn,
+shoot, and, in the summer, flirt; the attendance at
+race-meetings, balls, and weddings; journeys to the
+Continent, civilities everywhere,&mdash;in fact, the whole
+business of society&mdash;no matter how modestly done&mdash;demands
+money. Most young men are naturally
+fond of brilliant, light-hearted companions, plenty of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span>amusement, and that indescribable treasure known as
+the <i>joie de vivre</i>. Orange was no exception to this
+rule, and there were many hours when he tasted
+the bitterness of poverty, and felt the harsh differences
+between the outward gifts bestowed by Fate. It was
+not that he cared for luxuries, but it seemed hard that
+a horse should have to be counted among them, and
+that it was necessary to work for twelve hours a day in
+order to live at all, even as a dependent, among those
+with whom he was, by right of birth and ability, the
+equal, and to whom he was, in many cases, the superior.
+How many promising careers and brave hearts have fallen
+short under the strain of a position so mortifying and
+apparently so unjust! In public life, whether one
+joins the Church, the Camp, the Senate, or the
+Arts, the trials of strength and courage are most
+severe even to those who, in material circumstances
+at any rate, are favourites of fortune. Neither
+influence nor riches avail much in the terrific
+struggles for supremacy, for recognition, for mere
+fair play itself. What must the conflict be then
+for those who, with slight purses and few allies, find
+themselves pitted against the powerful of the earth?
+Discouragement, in weak natures, soon turns to
+envy, and the spectacle of human unkindness has
+driven many a reflective, delicate soul to say that
+the companionship of his fellow-men is unlovely,
+not to be admired, and difficult, at times, not to
+hate. In disgust of the world&mdash;where one has been
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span>wounded, or where one has wounded others&mdash;(wounded
+vanity and remorse are alike bitter in their
+fruits), numbers, with a sort of despairing fatalism,
+retire from the campaign, cut themselves adrift from
+their people and their country, and, having failed
+in life, court death under strange skies in far-off lands.
+Robert, who looked rather for the triumph of ideas
+than the glory of individuals, was not easily dismayed.
+So long as the right was by some means accomplished,
+and good seeds brought forth a good harvest,&mdash;the burden
+and heat of the day, the changes of weather, the
+scantiness of the wage, the ingratitude and treachery
+of agents, the hardships, the toil&mdash;mattered little
+enough. Devoured by ambition in his early youth,
+he had never permitted himself the least doubtful
+means of attaining any object. He was not obliged,
+therefore, to affect an indifference to success in order
+to divert attention from his methods of arriving at
+it. No man, once bent upon a project, could
+be more resolute than Orange. None were more
+stern in self-repression and self-discipline. But in
+controlling, or subduing altogether, the softer possibilities
+in a character, there is always the danger
+lest uncharitableness, hardness of heart, or blind
+severity of judgment should take their place. Young
+people with strong natures can seldom find the middle
+course between extremes, and this one, in curbing
+a desire for power, will fairly crush his whole vigour,
+while that one, in revolt against the tyranny of love,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span>will become the slave of pessimism. There were
+days, no doubt, and weeks when Orange found every
+counsel, a mockery, and every law, a paradox. The
+strife between the flesh and the spirit went on in
+his life as it does in all lives, but he was one who
+held, that, whatever the issue of it all might be, a
+man must be a man while he may&mdash;losing himself
+neither in the whirl of passion nor in the enervating
+worlds of reverie, but accepting the fulness of existence&mdash;its
+pains, vanities, pleasures, cares, sorrows,&mdash;with a
+fighter's courage and the fortitude of an immortal soul.</p>
+
+<p>As he walked along toward Vigo Street in the cold,
+dark autumn morning, he felt more than able to hold
+his own against all adversaries. And this was not
+the insolence of conceit, but the just strength which
+comes from a vigorous conscience and perfect health.
+A soldier counts it no shame, but rather an honour,
+to die in battle, so Robert, surveying the chances
+before him, stood determined, in every event, to
+endure until the end, to fight until the end, to
+maintain his ground until the end. But if he had
+put sentiment from his path, it was not so easily
+weeded from his constitution, and while he was able
+to persuade himself that his renunciation of all
+passionate love&mdash;except as a bitter-sweet memory&mdash;was
+complete, he had to realise that the old grudge
+against Castrillon had grown into a formidable,
+unquenchable, over-mastering hatred. Where this
+strange obsession was concerned, no religious or other
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span>consideration availed in the least. Bit by bit, hour by
+hour, the feeling had grown, deriving vigour from
+every source, every allusion, and every experience.
+The books he read, the conversations he heard, the
+people he met&mdash;all seemed to illuminate and justify,
+in some mysterious way, his enmity against Castrillon.
+He may have believed that he was resigned to his
+ill-luck in love, but a sense that he had been defrauded
+haunted his thoughts always, and the longing to
+square his account with destiny was less a wish than
+a mute instinct. How great had been the temptation
+to defy all laws&mdash;human and Divine&mdash;where Brigit
+Parflete was in question, no one can know. In
+getting the better of it, the motive had not been,
+it must be confessed, the fear of punishment here
+or hereafter. This would not be a true history, nor a
+reasonable one, if it were not acknowledged that much
+of the victory in that situation had been due to the
+woman's youth and candid, sunny nature. No passion&mdash;far
+less a guilty one&mdash;he thought, could have had a
+place in that childlike heart. She was Pompilia&mdash;not
+Juliet, because, like the more ill-starred heroine, she
+had met sorrow before she met love, and the strong
+emotion which comes first in a young life makes the
+deep, the ineffaceable impression on its character.
+She had the strength to suffer undeserved woe, but the
+penalties of defiance and disobedience would surely kill
+her. The thought of any desperate step seemed
+impossible.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span></p>
+<p>The question of love at that point in Orange's life
+had therefore been decided as much by conditions as it
+had by principles and conscience. But with the Castrillon
+difficulty, it was a question of hatred&mdash;not love.
+In hate, Orange was as little given to brooding as he
+was in other matters. He had never been able to
+forgive the duel at Loadilla which had occasioned so
+much scandal in Madrid, and brought Brigit's name
+into bad company. Robert, before his meeting with
+Mrs. Parflete, had fought several duels, and each of
+them about a different pretty face. Encounters of
+the kind form part of a youth's education on the
+Continent: such experiences are considered not
+romantic, not heroic, not striking, but merely usual
+and manly. It was impossible for one brought up in
+this view to feel that duelling&mdash;under certain provocation
+and fair conditions&mdash;was wrong. The custom
+was frequently abused, no doubt, yet the same could be
+said of all customs, and Orange, rightly or wrongly,
+held a conviction on the subject which no argument
+could affect. But, with a lover's unreasonableness, he
+had found the fight between Bodava and Castrillon an
+insult to the lady at stake. He suspected, too, that
+Castrillon had spoken lightly of her to General Prim,
+to Zeuill, perhaps to d'Alchingen. This was insufferable,
+and so, inasmuch as the mischief had been
+done, he would not and could not remain outside the
+combat. There seemed, also, a certain feeling at the
+Clubs where the Madrid scandal had become known,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span>that Castrillon, on the whole, had proved a more
+dashing, and was probably the favoured, suitor.
+Orange, whose personal courage had been demonstrated
+too often to be called into doubt, had been
+criticised for an absence of moral, or rather immoral,
+courage with regard to Mrs. Parflete. Reckage's sly
+phrases about the ecclesiastical temperament; the
+sneers of some adventurous women on the subject of
+platonic affection; the good-natured brow-lifting of
+the wits and the worldly were not easy to bear for a
+man who was, by nature, impulsive, by nature, regardless
+of every sacrifice and all opinions while a strong
+purpose remained unfulfilled. Robert made up his
+mind that, come what might, whether his action was
+approved or blamed, or whether he won or lost, pick
+some quarrel he would, and see how Castrillon liked
+it, and thus settle the matter then and for always.
+Castrillon had received a military training; he was a
+most adroit swordsman and a notorious shot; he would
+not be one to make a quarrel difficult.</p>
+
+<p>When Orange reached the house in Vigo Street, it
+was still early in the day. As he mounted the stairs,
+he noticed a fellow-lodger, still in his evening clothes,
+entering a room on the second floor. He did not see
+the man's face, but he was struck by something
+familiar in his build. This impression was not haunting,
+it passed almost immediately, and the young man
+settled down with resolution to his work. At one
+o'clock he went to Brookes's, had his lunch, met
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span>a few acquaintances who studied his face with
+curiosity, and a few colleagues who tried to persuade
+each other that he was a man who could play a deep
+game. He returned to his rooms and resumed work
+till about six o'clock, when his landlord informed him
+that a lady, who would not give her name, wished to
+see him. The lady was tall, handsomely dressed,
+darkly veiled. What, he thought, if it should be
+Brigit? What joy! What rashness! Robert went
+out into the hall to meet the strange visitor. She
+made a gesture signifying silence, and, on greeting
+her, he did not utter her name. It was Lady Sara.</p>
+
+<p>She did not speak until she had entered the shabbily
+furnished sitting-room and closed the door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is a mad thing on my part,&#8221; she said; &#8220;a
+mad thing. I know it. Of course, I might have
+asked you to come to me, but I couldn't wait so long.
+And I don't trust letters. Some news can't be written.
+It is not about Mrs. Parflete,&#8221; she added, hastily, &#8220;you
+need not fear that. It is about Beauclerk. He came
+to see me this afternoon. He is going to throw you
+over. He is going to fail you at the Meeting. You
+are to test public opinion while he sits under shelter&mdash;to
+profit by your experience. What do you think
+of that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are very good to come. But I hope you are
+mistaken all the same. He may throw me over. I
+am sure he will send me a word of warning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That was his first intention. He gave it up,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span>because he knew you wouldn't act without him. And
+he wants you to act&mdash;for the reason I have given.
+Oh, I'm so ashamed, so humiliated to think that any
+friend of mine could be such a traitor.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She unpinned her veil, and seemed all the handsomer
+for her scornful expression and flashing eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must be the first to retire,&#8221; she continued.
+&#8220;I won't have you treated in this contemptuous way:
+I won't endure it. I want you to write to the Committee
+at once&mdash;at once&mdash;without a moment's loss of
+time. This is why I have come here myself. You
+seem to have something in you which they take for
+weakness. You will stand anything. Oh, I know
+why well enough. You like to be a martyr&mdash;which
+means saying nothing and suffering a good deal. But
+I call it a mistake. I call it irritating, misleading,
+actually wrong. If I were a man I would kill
+people.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is easy enough to kill.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So they say. Be more unscrupulous, dear friend.
+Give your nature full play now and again. You can't
+make me believe that you are ever natural.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Some can trust their natures. I don't trust
+mine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don't you see how much more power you would
+have over men if you were more emotional, more
+spontaneous, more human? Who gives you credit
+for self-control? No one. They say you are self-contained&mdash;a
+very different idea. They say you are
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span>cold. Now, I don't care what I do. I follow every
+impulse. I must follow them. I had to come here
+this evening. I had to tell you about Reckage. The
+landlord was odious. I met two men on the staircase.
+One actually tried to peer into my face. I have never
+submitted to such indignities. Heaven knows what
+they are thinking now. I shall remember their vile
+laugh as long as I live. But I was determined to see
+you. And here I am. Apparently I have not done
+much good by coming. You hardly believe me. You
+think me an indiscreet woman.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think you are splendid.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I saw Mrs. Parflete to-day. She is beautiful. But
+she is indiscreet, too. All women worth considering
+are miracles of imprudence.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Haven't I always said so?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then how can you expect us to like you when
+you are so&mdash;so wise?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't expect you to like me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She bit her lip and pretended to check a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose you enjoy this room?&#8221; she said, glancing
+round it till her eyes fell on a small crucifix which
+was nailed to the wall behind his chair; &#8220;it is so
+depressing. You are very perverse. And the odd
+thing is&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, what is the odd thing?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That you are attracted by Mrs. Parflete. Your
+style ought to be Saint Clare or Saint Elizabeth. But
+not at all. You prefer this exquisite, wayward, per<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span>fectly
+dressed, extremely young actress. You give
+your nature full play in your <i>taste</i>, at all events.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can urge that much in my favour, then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, that much. Oh, she's pretty. But frivolous
+and light-hearted&mdash;as light-hearted as Titania. There!
+I have been wondering what I could call her. She is
+Titania in alabaster. Marble is too strong. At first, I
+thought it might be marble. I have changed my
+mind since. I suppose you know she will act in this
+comedy with Castrillon at the d'Alchingens?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So Disraeli has told me. Did you come to tell
+me that, also?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She coloured, but met his angry glance without
+flinching. &#8220;Now,&#8221; she thought, &#8220;he is going to
+show temper.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I came to tell you that, also,&#8221; she repeated. &#8220;Pensée
+is opposed to the whole scheme. Mrs. Parflete stamped
+her very beautiful foot, and said, &#8216;I go.&#8217; Do you
+approve?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am to meet Castrillon to-night at the Prince
+d'Alchingen's,&#8221; he answered, evading her question.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How you hate him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What makes you think so?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know your face. I never saw any love there
+for anybody, but just then there was a look of
+hate.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are quite right. I do hate him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are actually trembling at the mention of his
+name. Then you have feelings, after all.&#8221; She
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span>clapped her hands, and leaving her chair walked
+toward him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never hate me, will you?&#8221; she said, touching
+his arm. &#8220;Promise me that you will never hate me.
+Like me as much as you can.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At that instant, they heard a tap at the door, and
+the landlord, carrying a few letters on a salver,
+entered the room. Sara pulled down her veil&mdash;a
+foolish action, which she regretted a moment later.
+Orange thanked the man for the letters and threw
+them on the table. The landlord, with a studied air
+of discretion, which was the more insulting for its very
+slyness, went, half on tiptoe, out.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Does he always bring your letters upstairs?&#8221; she
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As a rule&mdash;no,&#8221; said Orange.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then he came on purpose! He wanted to see
+me&mdash;what impudence! I am beginning to realise
+what one has to expect if one&mdash;if one takes an unconventional
+step.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her voice failed, and tears began to roll down her
+cheeks. Then she covered her face with her hands.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Every courageous&mdash;every disinterested act is unconventional,&#8221;
+said Robert; &#8220;you are tired out&mdash;that's
+all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see,&#8221; she answered, with a note of harsh
+sadness in her voice, &#8220;I have had a strange day.
+The scene with Beauclerk was a great strain. I feel
+a kind of apprehensiveness and terror&mdash;yes, terror,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span>which I cannot describe. It may be my nerves, it
+may be fancy. But I am too conscious of being alive.
+Every minute seems vital. Every sound is acute.
+This day has been one long over-emphasis. Look at
+my hand: how it trembles! Beauclerk called me
+a witch. Certainly, I am more sensitive to impressions
+than most people.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One of these letters is from Reckage. It is
+written on a sheet of your own note-paper.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She dried her eyes, and looked at him with exultation,
+astonishment, and a certain incredulity.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then he must have listened to me. He posted
+it, after all, when he left the house. He is always
+impulsive. I remember now&mdash;that I saw him give
+something to the groom. Do read what he says.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The letter, scrawled hastily on the pale lilac note-paper
+affected by Sara and bearing her monogram, ran
+as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>&#8220;<span class="smcap">My Dear Old Fellow</span>,&mdash;There are still some points
+of arrangement very material to consider with regard to this
+Meeting next week, and I hope it is not too late to go
+into them. The thing cannot be done away. But the
+circumstances have become, thank God, very different
+indeed. Mr. Disraeli has asked me to speak in his stead
+at Hanborough&mdash;an honour so wholly unexpected and undeserved
+that I am forced to see in it an especial mark of
+encouragement. I must admit at once that I feel greatly
+flattered. I am not now to be taught what opinion I am
+to entertain of those gentlemen whose narrow and selfish
+principles forced me to move against my inclination, my
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span>judgment, and my convictions. I am persuaded that any
+additional public action&mdash;no matter how indirect on my
+part&mdash;in the Nomination of Temple would have at this
+juncture, the worse effect. It would savour of self-advertisement&mdash;an
+idea which I abhor. It would seem
+an <i>over-doing</i>, as it were, of my own importance. You will
+readily agree, I know, that I ought to keep perfectly quiet
+before, and for some time after, my Hanborough appearance.
+Not having in any degree changed my view upon
+this subject of the Association, I don't feel that my present
+decision is inconsistent. I think it will strike everybody
+as a sensible&mdash;the only sensible&mdash;course to follow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When can you dine? Or if you won't dine, let me
+see you when you can spare half an hour.</p><p class="i8 nospaceabove">&#8220;Yours affectionately,&#8221;</p><p class="i20 nospaceabove">&#8220;<span class="smcap">Beauclerk</span>.&#8221;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Orange turned to Sara and said, when he had
+finished reading&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am glad he wrote.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You knew him better than I did. He is still a
+poor creature, for, what does it all come to?&mdash;a
+rambling, stupid lie. The letter is sheer rubbish&mdash;a
+complete misrepresentation of the facts. But I need
+not have come. This always happens when women
+interfere between men,&#8221; she added, bitterly; &#8220;you
+don't want us. There's a freemasonry among men.
+You excuse and justify and forgive each other always.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You persuaded him to post this.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is true. He might have done so, however,
+without persuasion. In future, call me the busybody!
+I must go now. I have made you late for
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span>d'Alchingen's dinner. What a lesson to those about
+to make themselves useful! And how right you were
+not to get bitter! I take things too much to heart.
+I must pray for flippancy. Then, perhaps, I may
+find no fault with this world, or with you, or with
+anybody!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am bitter enough&mdash;don't doubt it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No! no! let us assure each other that this is
+the best of all possible worlds&mdash;that Beauclerk shows
+cleverness and good sense, that no one tells lies, no one
+is treacherous, no one is unjust, malicious, or revengeful
+nowadays, that friends are friends, and enemies&mdash;merely
+divided in opinions! We must encourage
+ourselves in a cynical, good-natured toleration of all
+that is abject and detestable in mankind.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are too impatient, Lady Sara. You want
+life concentrated, like a play, into a few acts lasting,
+say, three hours. Whereas, most lives have no
+dénouement&mdash;so far as lookers-on are concerned!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At last some one has been able to define me.
+I am &#8216;impatient.&#8217; But you take refuge in that profound
+silence which is the philosophy of the strong;
+you don't struggle against the general feeling; you
+content yourself by going your own gait quietly.
+You have pride enough to be&mdash;nothing, and ambition
+enough to do&mdash;everything. Hark! what is that?
+They are calling out news in the street.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The current lie,&#8221; said Orange. &#8220;We don't want
+to hear it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sara walked to the window and threw it open.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I caught a name,&#8221; she exclaimed. &#8220;It is something
+about Reckage ... Listen ... Reckage!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Above the din of the traffic, a hoarse duet rose from
+the street&mdash;voice answering voice with a discordant
+reiteration of one phrase&mdash;&#8220;<i>Serious accident to Lord
+Reckage! Serious accident to Lord Reckage!</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My God, what are they saying? What are they
+saying? It is my imagination. It can't be true. I
+am fancying things. What are they saying?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Orange had already left the room and was in the
+road. When he returned, he gave her the newspaper
+and did not attempt to speak. But he closed the
+window in order to shut out, if possible, the hideous
+cry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where is it? I can't see! In which column?&#8221;
+said Sara.</p>
+
+<p>He pointed to a corner on the third page, where
+she read in black, rough type:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Lord Reckage was thrown from his horse at Hyde
+Park Corner this afternoon. He was removed to
+Almouth House. His injuries are said to be of a very
+dangerous nature.</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She crushed the paper in her hand, and the two
+stood looking at each other, stupefied by the blow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am going to him,&#8221; said Robert.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And I must go home,&#8221; whispered the girl. &#8220;He
+always said that Pluto would be the death of him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They went down the stairs together without ex<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span>changing
+a word. Orange walked with her to St.
+James's Square. Neither could speak. On parting,
+she faltered,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me know ... how he is....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
+
+
+<p>Lord Reckage had been carried through the hall
+of Almouth House, but not up the famous staircase of
+which he was so proud. He looked at it as they bore
+him to the library, and although he was still in a kind
+of stupor, the terrified servants could read in his eyes
+the certain knowledge that he would never behold the
+marble walls or the portraits of his ancestors again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are you in pain, my lord? is your lordship in
+pain?&#8221; sobbed the housekeeper. His features were
+injured and his face was perfectly pallid&mdash;so much
+changed that he could not have been immediately
+recognised. Four doctors&mdash;one of them a passer-by
+at the time of the accident&mdash;had assembled. They
+found one shoulder was severely injured, and the right
+collar-bone broken. He complained of great pain in
+his side.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Am I going to die, Sir Thomas?&#8221; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why should you die?&#8221; replied the distinguished
+surgeon. &#8220;But you have had a nasty fall.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pluto shied at something,&#8221; answered his lordship;
+&#8220;mind they don't shoot him. I won't have him shot.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then, for a few moments, he lost consciousness.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span></p>
+<p>When Orange arrived, the physicians were looking
+very grave, and telegrams had been despatched to all
+the young man's near relatives.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He has called for you several times,&#8221; said Sir
+Thomas; &#8220;and,&#8221; he added, dropping his voice, &#8220;is
+there any lady who could meet ... the family? I
+fancy I caught a lady's name more than once. Could
+it have been&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sara,&#8221; suggested Orange, to relieve his embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It certainly sounded like Sara.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then I will send Lord Garrow a note&mdash;she is
+Lord Garrow's daughter&mdash;a lifelong friend. Is there
+no hope?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He may have a pretty good night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Robert bowed his head and asked no more. He
+sat by the dying man, whose sufferings, although they
+were a little alleviated by morphia, made him restless.
+He moaned even in his snatches of sleep, and spoke
+occasionally&mdash;always about the accident. Once he
+mentioned Agnes:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Agnes will be sorry when she hears.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Toward daybreak he turned to Orange, and said
+quite simply&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are different from the rest. You have the
+priest's element in you; there is an incessant struggle
+and toil to cut one another's throat among us average
+men&mdash;all striving after success. You weren't built
+that way. God bless you.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the morning his father and the near relatives
+arrived. The women cried bitterly. The aged peer
+looked on in stony grief&mdash;drinking in his son's scarred
+faced and glancing, with despair, from time to time,
+at the clock.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It isn't going, is it?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>No, it had been checked; the tick disturbed his
+lordship, but there was an hour-glass on the table.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How many hours do they think&mdash;&mdash;?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps ten hours.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>When the sand had run down at the conclusion of
+the first hour, no one reversed the instrument. But
+Lady Margaret Sempton, the Earl's sister, sent a
+whispered message to the Bishop of Hadley, who was
+waiting, much altered by sorrow and anxiety, in the
+ante-room. Reckage had asked to see him. He had
+always liked the good old man, and the rest withdrew
+during their short interview.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile carriage after carriage drove up to the
+door; caller after caller appeared with cards, notes,
+and inquiries; name after name was inscribed in the
+visitors' book; telegrams came from the Royal family,
+from all parts of the country and the Continent.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My poor boy. I didn't know he had so many
+friends,&#8221; said his father. &#8220;God forgive me, I used to
+think he wasted his time on fads.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And odd people came also. Trainers, jockeys,
+and horse-dealers rubbed shoulders on the doorsteps
+with collectors of old furniture, missionaries, election<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span>eering
+agents, ladies of the chorus, of the <i>corps de ballet</i>,
+shabby-genteel individuals of both sexes out of work,
+and the like; each had his degree of regret and an
+anecdote.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He was always very kind to me,&#8221; said this one,
+that one, and the other.</p>
+
+<p>Bradwyn, noting some of these unusual visitors,
+observed that Reckage had a knack of pleasing the
+lower classes and half-educated persons generally. He
+heard a Bible-reader say to the footman: &#8220;<i>Take ye
+heed, watch and pray; for ye know not when the time
+is!</i>&#8221; and he shuddered at this exhibition of bad taste.
+Lord Garrow had been unremitting in his personal
+inquiries, but Sara did not come till she received the
+following from Orange&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He is conscious, and he asks to see you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She reached the room as the Bishop of Hadley was
+coming out; tears were in his eyes and he did not
+notice the young lady who glided past him as lightly
+as a shadow. Poor Reckage recognised her step, however,
+and pulled the sheet half over his face lest she
+should be startled at its harsh disfigurements. She
+threw off her hat and veil and fell on her knees by the
+side of his bed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Speak to me, Beauclerk, speak to me; it is I&mdash;Sara.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know you,&#8221; he whispered; &#8220;you are the one I
+loved the best. But I haven't been true to anybody.
+I only wish to goodness I had another chance. I'd be
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span>different&mdash;I'd show 'em ... I never meant ...&#8221; he
+took her hand, her beautiful, tapering hand loaded
+with sapphires ... &#8220;like your eyes, old girl ...
+don't cry ... and I say, I posted that ... letter
+after all ... to please you. Are you ... pleased?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He spoke no more.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Action is the essence of political parties, and the
+members of the League had the ink barely dry on
+their telegrams of condolence before they despatched
+others, summoning a special meeting for the consideration
+of future steps. Orange, who was regarded
+as a man devoid of ambition, was unanimously elected
+a member of the Executive Committee; he was a good
+speaker, he could mind his own business, he never
+pulled wires, and it was his rule to step aside when
+others behind him showed any disposition to push
+toward the front. On the evening of the day on
+which Lord Reckage died, Aumerle and Ullweather
+called at Vigo Street as a preliminary move in their
+new plan of campaign. But Robert was not there.
+He sat all that night, a solitary watcher, in the chamber
+of death. His affection for his old pupil was something
+stronger than a brother's love. Whether he
+saw him as others saw him, or whether he was aware
+of certain pleasant traits in that uncertain character
+which escaped the common run of dull observers, his
+devotion had never wearied in all the years of their
+acquaintanceship.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span></p>
+<p>The old housekeeper crept into the room when
+the bereaved family had retired, and she was on her
+way to bed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You and me, sir, always got on with his lordship,&#8221;
+she said, looking down, with Robert, at the still,
+marred face. &#8220;We understood him. He wasn't all
+for self&mdash;as many thought. But his heart wanted
+touching. If you could touch his heart, a kinder
+gentleman didn't live. And if it was my last breath,
+I'd call him the best of the lot&mdash;in spite of his
+tantrums, and his changeableness, and his haughty
+way sometimes. Mark my words, the glory of
+Almouth dies with him. Mr. Hercy will bring us
+down to rack and ruin. O, sir, I'm glad I'm old.
+I never want to see the sorrow that is sure to come to
+Almouth.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But Orange was not thinking about the house of
+Almouth, or its fate. His thoughts were with the
+soul of the young man who had enjoyed life so
+well, and made so many plans, and cherished so
+many worldly hopes&mdash;of the young man who had
+existed apparently to indulge his own will, spend
+money, kill time, and fulfil a few rather showy responsibilities.
+And yet what Robert remembered best was
+his laugh. He could hear it still.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span></p><h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2>
+
+
+<p>Prince d'Alchingen had been much put out of
+conceit with himself by disappointment. The small
+dinner which he had carefully arranged for Orange
+and Castrillon took place, but Orange was not present.
+He had sent word from Almouth House that he
+could not leave Lord Reckage. His Excellency,
+therefore, was thoroughly annoyed, and Castrillon's
+persiflage fell heavily upon his ears. He tried to
+think that this nobleman's vivacity made him appear
+flippant, whereas he was, in reality, a Don Juan of
+the classic type&mdash;unscrupulous, calculating, and damnable.
+When he remarked that it was <i>grande folie de
+vouloir d'être sage avec une sagesse impossible</i>, the Prince's
+spirits rose&mdash;only to fall again, however, at a later
+pronouncement from the same lips to the effect
+that virtuous women always brought tears to his
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They tell me,&#8221; said the Prince, weighing each
+syllable with great deliberation (they carried on their
+conversation principally in French and Spanish) &#8220;that
+Mrs. Parflete is an admirable actress.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Castrillon kissed the tips of his fingers to the air,
+and ejaculated: &#8220;Adorable!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Does she resemble, in any way, I wonder, her
+good mother, Madame Duboc?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>No, she had her own style&mdash;although she was
+coquettish enough. And pretty? Delicious.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is better,&#8221; thought his Excellency, &#8220;much
+better. And do you think,&#8221; he asked, aloud, &#8220;that
+she cares at all for Orange?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Castrillon smirked and put his hand, half instinctively,
+to his breast-pocket. D'Alchingen inferred,
+from this quick movement, that he carried a letter
+or two, or a keepsake, from the lady near the region of
+his heart.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She may need the tonic of some Platonic love
+in order to bear the burden of a solitary life,&#8221; said the
+Marquis; &#8220;but, all the same, I have no especial
+reason to think that M. de Hausée is her ideal.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He is the ideal of several persons,&#8221; said Alchingen;
+&#8220;I don't know what to make of him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But at this point Castrillon displayed a maddening
+discretion. The Prince was glad when he took his
+departure, and he exhausted his stock of malice in
+wishing the young coxcomb to the devil. His
+Excellency was becoming more and more morose over
+his snuff and the last mail&mdash;which was longer and
+duller than usual&mdash;with a peculiarly sharp note from
+his Chief into the bargain&mdash;when Mudara was
+announced.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span></p>
+<p>Mudara bowed to perfection, and then, going
+forward, presumed to put his hand on the Ambassador's
+arm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your Excellency,&#8221; said he, &#8220;I have some important
+news. On the whole it is gratifying. It
+may make us cynical, but it is absurd to expect human
+nature to be Divine. Mrs. Parflete has been at
+Orange's lodgings this afternoon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don't mean it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Indeed, it is too true. When he moved to Vigo
+Street, I was fortunate enough to secure a room in
+the same house immediately under his.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was sitting at my table, with the door just ajar,
+when I heard, at six o'clock, a rustle of silk skirts on
+the stairs. I peeped out. I saw a tall lady, thickly
+veiled, following our landlord, Dunton, across the
+landing. She caught sight of me, and started
+violently.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Was it Mrs. Parflete?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I could <i>swear</i>&#8221; he answered slowly, &#8220;that it was
+Mrs. Parflete.... She reached Orange's door;
+Dunton tapped; Orange came out; the lady and
+he exchanged glances; they entered the room together,
+and he closed the door. Three-quarters of an hour
+later they came down the stairs and left the house.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You followed them?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Alas! I couldn't. I was not alone. Parflete
+himself was with me. I dared not trust him out of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span>my sight. He, following his custom, grew faint at
+the sight of Madame&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then he, too, recognised her? This is excellent.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He recognised her height and her figure. Besides,
+whom else could it have been&mdash;if not Mrs. Parflete?
+M. de Hausée has no sister, and we know his character.
+The caprice of fortune has honoured him
+with many faults, but gallantry is not among them. I
+have that from those who knew him when he was too
+young to disguise his true nature. He would not have
+been an <i>abbé malgré lui</i>, and he has, on the contrary, the
+most ecclesiastical soul I know. Rest assured, your
+Excellency, that this <i>canaille</i> of a woman is determined
+to be his ruin, for she is a baptized serpent,&mdash;one of
+those creatures more dangerous to men than the devil
+himself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Ambassador smiled agreeably, put his tongue in
+his cheek, and nodded his head with a movement
+which might have passed equally well for a sympathetic
+reproof or sorrowful acquiescence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What will Parflete do?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Mudara threw up his dark, sinewy, and powerful
+hands in genuine despair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He is the vice of the situation,&#8221; he exclaimed; &#8220;at
+the very mention of divorce his teeth chatter, he gets
+a spasm of the heart, and he begins to gabble like a
+sick monk about his soul and his conscience. Believe
+me, we are dealing with a madman. How can any
+end be attained in his present state of irresolution?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Happily it is not my business either to arrange or
+propose the means.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The sly glance of the Prince encountered the sly
+glance of the Agent.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is well understood, your Excellency,&#8221; said
+Mudara, with the inimitable accent of respect. &#8220;Let
+good be done and let evil be avoided, is the sum total
+of the Government's desires. But whenever I can see
+clearly, I shall know how to act. When right and
+truth are plain, time and experience are the best allies.
+We have at least sufficient evidence to institute divorce
+proceedings. If Parflete will not file a petition&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can do nothing. Unless you can be perfectly
+sure that he will follow some reasonable course,
+he ought to be saved from himself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, he ought to be saved from himself. Something
+in my nature makes me follow a certain kind of
+man as hounds track game. What is now to be done
+is to meet force with force.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An armed diplomacy is good,&#8221; said d'Alchingen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And also a scheme of alternatives,&#8221; replied
+Mudara.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I confess I very much prefer working through
+Castrillon, if possible, than de Hausée. Disraeli has
+implicit faith in this de Hausée. It seems taken for
+granted that he is ascetic and intellectual. He is
+altogether in the clouds, whereas Castrillon is wholly
+in touch with&mdash;with humanity.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But de Hausée, like the Cardinal de Retz, fought
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span>duels when he was a student. If I cannot work upon
+Parflete's jealousy, we must see what can be done in
+that direction with de Hausée. We hear much of
+the soul's awakening! Wait for the body's awakening
+now&mdash;it must come. Mrs. Parflete is a <i>Samaritaine</i>;
+we have to prove it somehow. Even though one
+invented stories about her, one would probably find
+that they were, approximately, true.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Keep me informed,&#8221; said the Prince, making a
+little bow, which signified that the audience was at an
+end.</p>
+
+<p>Mudara, according to his own Confession, left the
+Embassy and proceeded at once to the small private
+hotel near Covent Garden where Parflete had taken up
+his abode.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>Parflete's rooms, (<i>we read</i>) were en suite. He had
+bought a few rather beautiful prints and a number of
+exquisitely bound books. These last, with bowls and
+vases of flowers, were scattered over the various tables.
+The scent of the flowers mingled with the strange fumes
+of some Oriental incense. He had draped pieces of
+flame-coloured silk over the windows. Everything looked
+<i>bizarre</i>, and the atmosphere was sultry. When I entered
+he was not pleased to see me&mdash;in fact, he showed a disposition
+to sulk. I laboured to convince him that he
+would forfeit the respect of all honourable men unless
+he showed some just resentment at his wife's conduct.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No one respects me as it is,&#8221; he answered; &#8220;nobody
+cares what I do one way or the other so long as I avoid
+the police. And as the police and I have nothing at all
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span>in common, I am not likely to give offence to my good
+friends in the Alberian Government.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I warned him that such sneers were unjustifiable, and
+I reminded him, with severity, of the Government's
+extraordinary forbearance.</p>
+
+<p>He fixed his eyes unpleasantly upon me, and his fingers
+trembled as he played with the frogs of his lilac-velvet
+smoking-jacket.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wish,&#8221; said he, &#8220;that you would mind your own
+business. I have done everything to protect the appearance
+of your good faith all through this affair. Now leave
+me alone. Besides, I can't be sure that the lady we saw
+to-day was Her Imperial Highness.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>My exasperation at his tone of defiance was all but
+uncontrollable.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know,&#8221; said I, &#8220;that we had no doubt of her
+identity.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We didn't see her face nor the colour of her hair. In
+any case, I refuse to humiliate her. Kindly remember
+that she is my wife, and drop a conversation which I find
+insulting.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Hot words then passed between us. In my anger I
+may have uttered several truths which hit him too hard.
+Suddenly he sprang at me as though he were a wild cat.
+His eyes rolled, his face was convulsed beyond recognition.
+Men I have never feared; he seemed, however,
+not a man but some demoniac risen from hell. In
+self-defence I struck him with the small poniard which I
+have carried all my life. He staggered back, and the
+blood-letting seemed to relieve his temper.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go!&#8221; said he; &#8220;go while you can. I don't think the
+wound is mortal, but I don't wish any man hanged for
+murdering me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was in my will to strike him again. I was beside
+myself with contempt at what I took to be a fresh revelation
+of his cowardice.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span></p>
+<p>I replied coolly enough,&mdash;&#8220;I would not murder you.
+Have no alarm on that score. But I can defend myself,
+I hope.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>By this time he had reached the door and thrown it
+open. A waiter was passing at the time.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sir,&#8221; said Parflete, &#8220;I have the honour to wish you
+good-day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The waiter heard this remark distinctly, and saw me
+bow as I parted from the wretched creature.</p>
+
+<p>Parflete's appearance was ghastly, but I attributed this
+pallor to fright and not to pain, for I believed from my
+heart that the wound was no more than a slight prick. I
+left the hotel, took a cab to my lodgings, and after reading
+a light Spanish novel in order to change the current of
+my thoughts, I passed an excellent night, sleeping at least
+seven hours.</p></blockquote>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span></p><h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2>
+
+
+<p>Lord Garrow, after much cautious consideration,
+had decided that Lady Sara could not absent herself
+from the d'Alchingens' party without exciting
+unfavourable comment, and so prejudicing her future
+relationship with the Duke of Marshire. His lordship,
+in his secret heart, was by no means sorry for Reckage's
+untimely death. An orthodox faith in a better,
+happier world assisted his conscience over the many
+difficulties which afflict a strong sense of good
+manners. Good manners demanded some show of
+grief at the young man's melancholy end; but, as his
+lordship pointed out to his weeping daughter, higher
+reflections ought to triumph over the vulgar instincts
+of sorrow, and an etiquette almost heathenish. &#8220;Let
+us be thankful,&#8221; said he, &#8220;that poor Beauclerk was
+spared some lingering malady and the shattering
+disappointments of a public career. He would not
+wish us to mourn. And indeed, any undue mourning
+on your part might give a very false impression in
+society. You must go to the d'Alchingens'.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Hadley Lodge was built in the reign of George I.
+In design it resembles a little the Vice-Regal Lodge in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span>Dublin; two wings, containing innumerable small
+rooms, are connected by corridors leading to the
+entrance hall. The chief rooms are in the centre, to
+which Prince d'Alchingen himself added a miniature
+theatre, copied from the one at Trianon. When
+Sara arrived, the Prince and Princess were taking tea
+in the gallery&mdash;an apartment so furnished with screens,
+sofas, writing-tables, divans, and arm-chairs that it had
+become the lounge, as it were, of the house. Less
+formal than the saloon, brighter than the library, and
+more airy than the boudoir, the Princess spent the
+greater part of her day in a favourite corner where she
+could command a view from four windows, enjoy the
+fire, see the best pictures, and hear the piano pleasantly
+if any guest chose to play upon it. In person she was
+tall and rather gaunt, with high cheek-bones, and very
+dark hollows under her eyes. She had the air of a
+mourning empress, and seriousness was so natural to
+her countenance, that, although she could not smile,
+and had never been known to laugh, she was not
+depressing nor was she, accurately speaking, melancholy.
+The style of beauty&mdash;for she had beauty&mdash;was
+haggard, of the kind now familiar to all English
+people from the paintings of Sir Edward Burne-Jones.
+In 1869, however, this type was still highly uncommon
+and little appreciated. Journals and letters of the
+period contain references to &#8220;that fright, Princess
+d'Alchingen,&#8221; or &#8220;that poor creature who always looks
+so ill,&#8221; or &#8220;that woman who makes one think of a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span>corpse.&#8221; Sara admired the Princess, and surprised all
+the fashionable artists of that day by insisting on her
+paintableness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How good of you to come, dear Sara!&#8221; she
+murmured, presenting her sallow cheek to the
+young girl with a touch of regal graciousness at once
+designed and impulsive; &#8220;I should have been lost
+without you. Anselm has invited a large party, and,
+as you know, I cannot talk to these dear people.
+I find them too clever, and they find me too stupid.
+The world is not willing to give me credit for that
+which I have done.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And what is that, dearest?&#8221; asked the Prince.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I married you!&#8221; she answered, with a quick flash
+of humour under her gravity. It was like the
+occasional sparkle in granite. &#8220;You may smile at the
+notion of my living on the reputation of what I might
+yet do,&#8221; she continued, resuming her languor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let us talk of pleasant things only, <i>chère amie</i>,&#8221;
+said the Prince, turning to Sara; &#8220;mind you, not a
+word about graves and epitaphs. Mrs. Parflete has
+arrived. Castrillon has arrived. You need not
+trouble about the others. They are not&mdash;they cannot
+be&mdash;worth your while. But do watch Castrillon. I
+find that the greatest compliment he can pay to any
+woman is to sneer at her expense. He never permits
+himself the slightest epigram against those who have
+erred in kindness toward him. One witty but frail
+lady once implored him to miss no opportunity of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span>abusing her in public. &#8216;Otherwise,&#8217; said she, &#8216;they
+will know all.&#8217; Isn't that a good story?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Anselm!&#8221; sighed the Princess.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wonder who that lady was?&#8221; said Sara.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I dare not guess,&#8221; said the Prince.</p>
+
+<p>Sara had recovered from the emotion called forth
+by Reckage's tragic fate, and she was living now in
+one of those taciturn reveries which had become more
+and more habitual with her since the last interview
+with d'Alchingen. Every force in her passionate,
+undisciplined soul was concentrated in a wild love for
+Orange, and every thought of her mind was fixed on
+the determination to win his affection in return.
+There were only two real powers in the world, she
+told herself; these were moral force and money.
+Money could not affect Robert. But he was susceptible
+to moral force. She resolved to display such an
+intrepid spirit, such strength of will, such devotion that
+Brigit would seem a mere doll in comparison.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you think,&#8221; she said, turning to the
+Princess, &#8220;of Mrs. Parflete? Your opinion is worth
+everything. Orange is infatuated with her. His
+criticism is therefore useless. The Prince disapproves
+of her parentage. He is therefore prejudiced. I wish
+to be charitable. I, therefore, say what I hardly think.
+Pensée Fitz Rewes is an innocent little fool. She
+judges all women by herself. You, Princess, are an
+angel of the world. Your verdict, quickly.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Princess paused before she attempted any reply.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span>Then she fixed her deep, grey eyes on Sarah's excited
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I like her,&#8221; she said, slowly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is that all?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think she is immature for her age, and therefore
+reckless. She knows everything about sorrow,
+and very little&mdash;at present&mdash;about happiness. So she
+doesn't seem quite human. She shows that indulgence
+toward others which is perhaps the last degree
+of contempt for the follies of humanity. Those who
+take their neighbours seriously are almost invariably
+severe. Mrs. Parflete, on the contrary, is all good-nature
+and excuses. I believe she has genius, and I
+am sure she will have an amazing career.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Princess, who had always insisted on a studious
+rather than an active part in life, was consequently
+unlike the majority of her sex, who, in the bustle
+of social engagements, talk without ceasing, letting
+words take the place of ideas, and phrases serve for
+sentiments. All that she uttered showed a habit
+of thought opposed to the common method of
+drawing-room conversation; she rarely said the
+expected thing, and never, a welcome one. Sara,
+therefore, was disappointed at this favourable judgment
+of Mrs. Parflete. The jealousy which she had been
+able to control by hoping, in the depths of her
+heart, that the young actress would prove too light
+a creature to bind for long any masculine, stirring
+spirit, now saw some justification for vehemence.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;And what do you think of Robert Orange?&#8221; she
+asked, breathing quickly.</p>
+
+<p>The Princess folded her hands, fixed her eyes again
+on the young girl, and answered in her usual even
+tones&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He is a sentimentalist turned man of action.
+When this miracle can be accomplished, you may
+expect a very decided, even implacable, character&mdash;because
+it is much more difficult to crush one's poetry
+than to crush one's passions. The passions are more
+or less physical, they depend on many material
+conditions or accidents; but poetry, ideals, romance
+and the like belong to the spirit. I find a great
+campaign is being waged everywhere against the
+soul. It is a universal movement&mdash;the only things
+considered now are the pocket and the brain and
+the liver.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Delightful!&#8221; said Sara, trying to speak calmly;
+&#8220;and will Orange become a liver-devotee?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don't understand self-discipline, <i>chérie</i>,&#8221;
+answered the Princess; &#8220;that seems a sealed mystery
+to most people except the Catholics and the Buddhists.
+Protestants never speak of it, never think of it.
+Their education is all for self-concealment. If I
+read M. de Hausée rightly, he will become no
+colourless, emasculated being, but certainly a man
+with a silent heart. When he has a grievance he
+will take it to God&mdash;never to his friends.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Prince d'Alchingen stifled a yawn and offered Sara
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span>a cigarette, which she refused, although she had
+acquired the habit of smoking during her visits to
+Russia.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you will both swear,&#8221; said he, &#8220;to keep a
+secret, I can tell you one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The old and the young lady flushed alike with
+delight at the prospect of hearing some strange news.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It will come well,&#8221; he continued, &#8220;after my
+wife's prophetic remarks. Mrs. Parflete went alone
+to Orange's lodgings on Wednesday last at six
+o'clock.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is it possible?&#8221; exclaimed the Princess.</p>
+
+<p>Sara, feeling the Prince's dissecting glance burning
+into her countenance, grew white and red by turns.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What a temperament! what jealousy!&#8221; thought
+d'Alchingen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How do you know all this?&#8221; she asked, thrusting
+her hands, which were trembling, into her ermine
+muff.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know it for a fact. The question now is&mdash;How
+will Parflete endure such conduct? Her bigamy
+may have been innocent, or at least, an unavoidable
+accident. But the afternoon call&mdash;well, if he can
+swallow that, his meekness runs a risk of being called
+cowardice, and his magnanimity will bear an unpleasant
+resemblance to dishonour.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yet surely&mdash;surely&mdash;&mdash;&#8220; stammered Sara.</p>
+
+<p>In a second she grasped the mistake which had been
+made, and all its possible disastrous consequences to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span>herself. Loss of reputation, the finger of scorn, and
+for what? Nothing, or at the worst, an indiscretion.
+Scandal, had there been a romantic cause, and loss
+of reputation, had there been a great passion to make
+it more memorable as a sacrifice than a disgrace,
+would have seemed to her defiant mind something
+glorious. But here was a mere unbeautiful story&mdash;sordid,
+if misunderstood, and a little silly, if satisfactorily
+explained. And it could not be satisfactorily
+explained. Sara knew life too well to encourage
+herself by supposing that the real truth about her
+foolish visit to Orange's lodgings could ever be told
+or believed. Orange himself would never betray her
+she knew. But what if she had been seen or
+recognised? The landlord, the men on the staircase&mdash;had
+they followed her home, or been able to pierce
+through her thick veil? She tried to collect her
+thoughts, to appear extremely interested&mdash;that was
+all. The effort, however, was beyond her strength.
+She showed her agitation, and, while it was fortunately
+attributed by the d'Alchingens to a wrong reason,
+they were close observers of every change in her face,
+nor did they miss the notes of alarm and nervousness
+in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It will probably mean a divorce, the social ruin
+of Orange, and the successful <i>début</i> of Madame as
+a comedian of the first rank,&#8221; said the Ambassador.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Does Orange know that she was seen that day?&#8221;
+asked Sara.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Not yet. He will know soon enough, never
+fear.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are you sure&mdash;quite sure that it was Mrs.
+Parflete?&#8221; suggested the Princess.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It must have been she,&#8221; replied the Prince.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It must have been she,&#8221; repeated Sara, mechanically.</p>
+
+<p>The lie seemed to come before she had time to
+think of it; it tripped off her tongue as though some
+will, other than her own, controlled her speech.
+But now that the untruth was spoken she determined
+to abide by it, so she repeated:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It must have been Mrs. Parflete.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And suppose,&#8221; said the Princess, &#8220;that she is able
+to prove that she spent the whole of Wednesday with
+Lady Fitz Rewes? No one could doubt the evidence
+of Lady Fitz Rewes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>D'Alchingen shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In that event&mdash;which is unlikely,&#8221; he said; &#8220;M.
+de Hausée will have a bad half-hour with Mrs. Parflete.
+The idyll will be spoilt for ever, and our pretty tale
+for angels about a Saint and a little Bohemian will
+sink to its proper level. It always takes three to
+make a really edifying Platonic history. The third
+in this case is the lady who called at Vigo Street.
+<i>Dans le combat, il faut marchez sans s'attendrir!</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who would live?&#8221; murmured the Princess,
+pressing a martyr's relic which she always wore on
+a chain round her neck.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Suppose,&#8221; continued d'Alchingen, enjoying his
+own cynicism, &#8220;that we have a quartette in this
+instance. Madame has her Castrillon, M. de Hausée
+has his veiled lady. Each is a pious fraud to the
+other. Imagine the double current of their thoughts,
+the deceit, the hypocrisy, the colossal lie behind them
+both which makes the inspiring truth a fact! It
+is an anecdote to be told in the Boccaccio manner&mdash;gracefully,
+with humour, with much indulgence ...
+otherwise, it might be the sort of story they tell
+in hell.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am happy to say that I have no imagination,&#8221;
+said the Princess; &#8220;and now I shall take Sara&mdash;who
+must be tired&mdash;to her room.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She rose from her seat, and, drawing Sara's arm
+through hers, walked from the gallery, through the
+hall, and up the staircase, talking, the while, of a new
+Romney which the Prince had recently purchased.</p>
+
+<p>Sara was now in her own room, but not alone,
+for her maid was unpacking, and the gown, petticoat,
+shoes, gloves, and flowers designed for that evening
+were being spread out upon the bed. The girl was
+in no humour to enjoy the finery which she had
+chosen with so much delight. She turned her back
+upon it all, and, pulling up the blind, gazed moodily
+out of the window till her maid's preparations were
+at an end. Romantic trees and a landscape, almost
+artificial in its prettiness, surrounded Hadley. The
+sun was setting in a fire, burnishing with enamel
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span>tints the long green hills which ranged as a natural
+fortification across the horizon, shutting out a whole
+country of flat fields beyond. The moon, in its first
+quarter, shone out above a distant steeple where
+the eastern sky, already blue and opalesque, promised
+the dawn of another day in reparation for the one
+then dying in scarlet splendour. But to those who
+are unhappy, to-morrow is a word without significance.
+Sara stretched out her arms instinctively toward the
+coming night. She wanted darkness and she wanted
+sleep&mdash;not the stars of the morning, not the joy of noon.
+What should she do? Her mad love for Orange
+had reached a desperate point&mdash;a point where she
+realised all too clearly and with bitterness, that, so
+far from being a source of strength, it was a curse,
+a malady, a humiliation&mdash;driving her into that insatiable
+desire of solitude where the companionship
+of dreadful imaginations and gloomy thoughts can
+rend the soul at their pleasure. As men are sometimes
+lured toward dangerous perils on land, or
+mountains, or by sea, and from thence to deeds,
+discoveries, and crimes unforeseen and unpremeditated,
+so she seemed borne along into a whirlpool of feelings
+which chilled the better impulses of her nature
+and accentuated, with acid and fire, every elementary
+instinct. Animal powers and spiritual tendencies
+alike were concentrated into one absorbing passion
+which reasoned only in delirium, incoherently, without
+issue. She was wretched in Orange's company
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span>because every moment so spent showed her that
+his heart was fixed far indeed from her. But the
+wretchedness suffered that way was stifled in the
+torments she endured when she wondered, miserably,
+in loneliness, what he was thinking, doing, saying;
+where he was, with whom he was, and how he
+was. The despair of unrequited love was thrice
+intensified by jealousy. &#8220;Why did he like that
+little adventuress, that white china Rahab?&#8221; she
+asked herself again and again. &#8220;It is just because
+she has bewitched him. It is not real love&mdash;it
+isn't any kind of love. She cannot care for him
+as I do. It isn't in her. O why, why does he fight
+so hard against me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Beautiful women seldom believe that their charms
+can be resisted without a fierce struggle. It was,
+in fact, a tranquil consciousness of beauty which gave
+audacity to Sara's words, and put the ordinary question
+of pride out of the question. Was it not rather a
+case of the goddess putting on humanity, of the queen
+condescending to a subject. <i>La reine s'amuse</i> was
+the unuttered, constant motto on her heart of hearts.
+The blood of Asiatic princes ran in her veins, and
+a sovereign contempt for manners, as opposed to
+passions and self-will, ruled her fierce spirit. But
+what should she do? A moment's reflection had
+shown her that Brigit could have no difficulty in
+proving that she was not the mysterious lady who
+visited Orange's lodgings. Having weighed all the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span>disadvantages, Sara now directed her attention to the
+advantages she could snatch out of the dilemma.
+At last she hit on a bold plan. She rang a bell and a
+housemaid answered the summons.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is Mrs. Parflete in her bedroom?&#8221; asked Lady
+Sara; &#8220;and where is her bedroom?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Her bedroom is next to yours, my lady. She is
+in there now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sara walked along the corridor till she reached an
+oak door on which was a card bearing the name she
+sought. She tapped, and heard Brigit herself reply&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come in.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The young actress was lying, in a black silk
+dressing-gown, on the sofa. Her hair fell loosely
+to her shoulders, and she had evidently been fast
+asleep, for her cheeks were less pale than usual, her
+eyes were bright, and the happiness of some pleasant
+dream still lingered in their expression.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Lady Sara&mdash;how good of you to come!&#8221; she
+exclaimed; &#8220;I have been trying to rest. I want to
+play well this evening.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will play beautifully, of course,&#8221; said Sara,
+submitting, even in her jealousy, to the charm and
+grace of her unconscious rival. &#8220;I have come on
+a difficult errand,&#8221; she added, abruptly; &#8220;you may
+not understand, but I hope&mdash;I believe&mdash;you will.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She became so pale as she uttered these words that
+Brigit leant forward with a gesture of reassurance.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span>In spite of her fragility she was, from the habit of
+self-control, a stronger spirit.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You may be sure that I shall understand,&#8221; she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Forgive me, then, but some enemy has circulated
+a report that you went to Mr. Orange's rooms in
+Vigo Street last Wednesday.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A deep flush swept over Brigit's face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was not there,&#8221; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; said Sara. &#8220;I know you were not
+there. They made a mistake. It was I they saw&mdash;not
+you&mdash;it was I.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Brigit dropped her eyes but made no other movement.
+She seemed to grow rigid, and the hand
+which had been playing with the fringe of her girdle
+remained fixed in its arrested action.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You? It was you? How &mdash;&mdash; you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I had to see him. So I went to him. Now he
+can easily deny that you were there. But he won't
+betray me. People must think what they please.
+But I am telling you&mdash;because you, at least, ought
+to know the truth.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And yet it is not my business!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean? Not your business?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How can it be my business to ask what lady
+went to&mdash;to his lodgings?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you would have wondered&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I should have wondered. I could not have
+helped that.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Orange and I have been friends, as you
+know, for some time. He knew me years ago before
+he&mdash;he met you. I was quite a little girl. I remember
+I used to hold his hand when I walked in
+the gardens by his side.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He has often spoken of you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But all this does not help us now. If it were
+ever known that I&mdash;I was the one, the other day,&mdash;I
+should be ruined.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You may be sure that no one shall know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am not so selfish as I seem. I don't forget that
+this story will injure him&mdash;injure him terribly. They
+will think him a kind of Joseph Surface&mdash;a hypocrite.
+People expect him to be different from everybody
+else. A piece of gossip which they would have laughed
+at and taken as a matter of course from poor Beauclerk
+or Charles Aumerle&mdash;they would resent bitterly in
+Robert. The thing that grieves me, that torments
+me, is the fear lest this act of mine may injure
+him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It won't injure him,&#8221; said Brigit. &#8220;Have no fear
+at all. And if you went to see him, as you say, you
+must have had the best of reasons for doing so. You
+may rely, I am sure, on his keeping your name a
+secret. You were kind to tell me&mdash;for he certainly
+would not have told me&mdash;without your consent. We
+never see each other now, and we never write to each
+other.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her voice trembled for the first time.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;How does he look?&#8221; she asked, after a sharp
+struggle between her pride and a desire to hear
+more.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He looks ill and worn. He over-works.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He will suffer at Lord Reckage's death.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But he hides his feelings. He is always reticent.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;O, to see him and talk with him&mdash;that would be
+such a joy for me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must be very sad, often,&#8221; said Sara, coldly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, often,&#8221; answered Brigit. &#8220;And I was so
+happy during the short time we were together that
+now it seems no part of my life&mdash;no part of it. I
+say this because I wish you to know that nothing
+can make us love each other less&mdash;that all this misery
+and separation&mdash;which may last as long as we live&mdash;has
+made no difference and can make no difference
+to us. And if I never see him again, or speak to him
+again, he will always be certain that I am his&mdash;unalterably,
+for ever his.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are little more than a child. You have a
+great career before you&mdash;who can say what may
+happen in the future? Women without careers
+change their minds&mdash;their tastes. These things are
+out of one's own control, and in your case&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My mind may change, but my soul cannot. I
+may dance, I may amuse myself, I may have friends.
+Make no mistake. I can tell you all that is in me.
+I find life beautiful. The theatre enchants me.
+I could work there all day. I have no illusions about
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span>it&mdash;the paint, the machinery, the box-office, the
+advertisements&mdash;the vulgarity are familiar enough to
+me. But I find a box-office, and machinery, and
+vulgarity everywhere, though they are called by
+other names.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sara coloured and looked away.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am getting stronger now,&#8221; continued Brigit.
+&#8220;I can lift up my head and see the world as it is.
+I like it&mdash;yes, with all its griefs and its horrors&mdash;I
+like it. When one is ill or sentimental one hates
+it, because it wasn't made for the sick, and it was
+not created us a playground for lovers. One may
+love&mdash;yes, but one must work. I intend to love and
+work at the same time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Many find that these two occupations clash!
+There is a time in love&mdash;just as there is a period
+in life&mdash;when it seems enough in itself. It is
+independent of circumstances and persons. O, but
+that time soon passes! As you learn more, you look
+for more. And work is no cure for dissatisfaction.
+If you can live through it you will just be a machine
+with one refrain&mdash;&#8216;I know nothing! I have
+nothing! I am nothing!&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The two young girls did not look at each other.
+Brigit could recognise an agitation of the soul in the
+imperceptible sadness of the voice, and she guessed
+poor Sara's secret.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; she said quietly. &#8220;I must suffer all that.
+How can you be sure that I have not suffered it
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span>already? At any rate, I hope this confidence will
+increase your kindness toward me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have no kindness toward you&mdash;none at all,&#8221;
+said Sara. &#8220;I have no kindness toward any living
+creature. I should like to die and come to an end.
+I wasn't born to put up with make-shifts. Other
+women may be resigned to that paltry way of existing.
+If they can't have what they want, they will take
+what they don't want; they will take what they hate,
+and grin&mdash;yes, they will grin and bear it. And after
+a little while, because they become gradually drunk
+with suffering, they begin to think they are noble.
+They are not noble. They are fools, fools, fools!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shan't accept make-shifts,&#8221; answered Brigit. &#8220;I
+intend to keep all my ideals, but they are all unfinished
+at present. I have just the outlines and beginnings of
+them&mdash;nothing else.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am not talking about ideals. I am speaking of
+realities. I don't want to be happy, but I do wish to
+be one of four things: either perfectly alive, or perfectly,
+utterly dead; either a pure spirit, or a faultless
+animal. This dead-and-alive, body-and-soul
+mixture which passes for a well-disciplined human
+being is loathsome to me. It is a tissue of lies and
+hypocrisies.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps I should have that feeling, too, if I had
+no faith in God. He assumed humanity&mdash;not despising
+it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know I do not believe that splendid story<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span>&mdash;so
+it doesn't help me. I compare life as I feel
+it with life as it is, and the inequality fills me with
+disgust. The example of Christ is too sublime.
+He was human only in His sufferings. He bore
+our burdens and He shared our agonies. He was
+deceived, despised, rejected: the first torture and
+the firstfruits of His Passion was the treachery of
+a disciple. When I am sorrowful and wretched,
+He seems Real to me and vivid. But when I
+am well and wildly happy, He seems far away and
+unreal&mdash;an invisible God, watching mortals with
+a certain contempt. Now the Pagans had a
+Divinity for every mood, so they never felt depressed
+or lowered in their own self-esteem. We have a God
+for two moods only,&mdash;great sorrow, and great exaltation.
+For the rest we have to beat our breasts and
+call ourselves miserable sinners. All the good people
+I know enjoy spiritual peace only&mdash;without any fear
+of remorse&mdash;when they are tired out or moaning with
+physical pain. I don't say this to shock you; I
+should like to have a religion if I could be convinced
+of it without fasting, without long illnesses, and without
+abandoning all hope of earthly, common joys.
+Most Christians take a middle way, I know; they
+prattle about their immortal souls, and behave as
+though they had nothing but bodies. I can't take
+part in such a gross farce.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Brigit sighed deeply, and did not reply at once.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is all very hard, I know,&#8221; she answered; &#8220;but
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span>from the lowest abyss one can still see the sky overhead.
+People's hearts are touched by the spectacle
+of sin or the spectacle of suffering. Our Lord could
+not sin, therefore He reached our sympathies by
+His Death and Sorrows. Of course, if this life here
+were all, and this world were the only one, and we
+were animals with less beauty than many of the
+inanimate things in nature, and as much intelligence
+at best as the bees and birds and ants&mdash;then the Pagan
+way might be quite admirable. But this isn't the
+case, and so&mdash;and so&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>Sara laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We are a grotesque compromise between gods
+and creatures,&#8221; she said; &#8220;those of us who find this
+out get a little impatient with the false position.
+You are less sentimental than I am. You take what
+I call the hard view. It is too frigid for me. But I
+am making you late. All good luck to-night!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She waved her hand, and, returning to her own
+room, realised that she had missed the object of her
+conversation. The attempt to excite Brigit's jealousy
+had failed.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing is so infectious as despair. Brigit sat
+quivering under the echo of Sara's last words: &#8220;You
+take what I call the hard view.&#8221; Was it, then, such
+an easy matter to bury love in perpetual silence, to
+let nature yield to fate, to stifle every human craving?
+The mention of Robert's name and the news that
+he looked ill and careworn had stirred all the unshed
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span>tears in her heart; she could not think, she could not
+move, she could but realise that she had no right
+to be with him. And sorrow seemed her province.
+There, surely, she and he might meet, join hands, and
+speak once more face to face. She had not written to
+him since that parting at Miraflores. But she would
+write now. This was her letter&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">My Dearest Life</span>&mdash;You are my dearest and you are my
+life&mdash;so let me say it now, even if I never say it again. I
+could be glad (if any gladness were left in me) at your grief
+for Lord Reckage's death, because it gives me an excuse
+for breaking my word and writing to you. This is selfish,
+but nobody knows how much I have suffered, or how
+much I suffer daily, hourly. I try to believe that it
+would have been worse if we had never owned our love,
+never met again after our first meeting. Darling, I can't
+be sure. Sometimes I wish I had been born quite numb.
+I dare not complain, and yet it is impossible to feel
+contented. Always, always there is a dreadful pain in my
+heart. Every moment is occupied, for when I am not
+working, I sleep, and when I wake, I work. I would
+rather spend one perfect day with you and die, than
+live on without you. This is the truth. If I had any
+choice that would be my choice. But I know you want
+me to be courageous, and I myself want you to see that
+a woman's love can be as strong as a man's. Women are
+supposed to make men weak&mdash;they are supposed to be
+chains and hindrances. This shan't be said of me. You
+wouldn't say it: you wouldn't think it: yet in history
+I find that while a few have been saved by women, more
+have been ruined by them. And where the women have
+saved the men they loved, it has been done by great
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span>renunciations and sacrifices&mdash;not at all by selfishness and
+joys. When I can remember this (I forget it too easily),
+I can almost persuade myself that I don't long to see you,
+to hear your voice, to be with you again on the boat&mdash;going
+on and on toward Miraflores. But I never persuade
+myself of this entirely&mdash;never, never. I do long to see
+you, Robert: I do want to be with you. I envy the
+servant in your lodgings, and the friends you meet.
+And I&mdash;who love you so dearly&mdash;may not go near you. I
+am going to act to-night&mdash;as if I were not acting all day,
+every day! I haven't said one word about you. But you
+couldn't be so wretched as I am, because <i>you</i> have yourself,
+<i>you</i> know what you are doing, saying, and thinking. Now
+if I could cease altogether and become, say, your hand or
+your foot, no one would expect you to renounce me. I
+might be useful, and it would certainly be no scandal
+if I accompanied you everywhere! I won't say any
+more.</p><p class="i16 nospaceabove"><span class="smcap">Brigit.</span></p></blockquote>
+
+<p>She addressed an envelope and sealed the letter
+within it. Then, with tears streaming down her
+cheeks, she read her part for the comedy that evening.
+When Esther entered with her dressing-gown, she
+held up her hands in dismay.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;O Madame,&#8221; said she, &#8220;I thought you were going
+to play an amusing piece!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It will be very amusing,&#8221; said Brigit, &#8220;but this
+is the way to rehearse it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2>
+
+
+<p>The Marquis of Castrillon, meanwhile, was pirouetting
+sublimely before the long mirror in his dressing-room,
+while his valet, a sour-faced individual, looked
+on in great but gloomy interest. The Marquis was
+superbly dressed in a Louis Seize costume&mdash;an exact
+reproduction of the one worn by that monarch on his
+wedding-day&mdash;and he presented a very fine figure.
+In features, expression, colouring, and manner it
+would have been difficult to find, or imagine, a
+more fascinating puppet. An unsurpassable actor of
+noble parts, he seemed created to play the hero
+in deeds, the poet in thoughts, the lover on all
+occasions. Confident of his attractions, he appeared
+quite free from vanity: each fresh attitude became
+him better than the last: no light could do less than
+show the classic beauty of his head and body. When
+he laughed, one could admire his magnificent teeth;
+when he looked grave, one could enjoy the splendid
+serenity of his brow and the passion in his deep brown
+eyes. It was said that his legs alone would have made
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span>the plainest man a dangerous rival, that his well-cut
+mouth would have made a monster irresistible.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So you don't think,&#8221; said he, as he executed a
+final bow and kicked off his shoes because a buckle
+stuck into his instep&mdash;&#8220;so you don't think, Isidore,
+that Her Imperial Highness loves me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know she doesn't,&#8221; replied his man. &#8220;I am
+not going to say that I see more than I see.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It may be that she cannot love,&#8221; said the Marquis,
+&#8220;and I don't think less of her on that account. These
+sentimental girls become very monotonous and sickening.
+The women whom men love the longest are prim,
+stand-off women. Have you noticed that, Isidore?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, I haven't noticed that. I haven't noticed
+much love lasting long for any kind of person.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There's something in your stupidity which refreshes
+me. I have a strong notion to marry Her
+Imperial Highness. I could make her happy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I tell you I could. She has the oddest effect
+upon me. No other woman has ever affected me in
+such a way. I feel when I am with her as though
+we were well matched. If I were a King, I would
+make her my Queen. I might love others, but I
+should always say, &#8216;Remember the Queen. The
+Queen must be remembered, and honoured, and
+obeyed in all things.&#8217; Sometimes I see myself&mdash;with
+her&mdash;at a kind of Versailles: every one standing up as
+we enter: Her Majesty very pale and tall and won<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[370]</a></span>derful
+in a blue velvet robe and pearls, I would
+adore her with a passion as constant as it was respectful.
+I should ask in return <i>une amitié la plus tendre</i>.
+Isidore, she is an angel. The sweetness of her soul
+is in her face&mdash;in the very sound of her voice. I
+am a little too material to be so sublime in my sentiments
+as M. de Hausée, but I could be unusually
+faithful to that charming, beautiful creature. Isn't
+there a crease under my left arm? Hold the glass
+for me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Isidore held the glass while Castrillon, with knit
+brows, studied the back view of his coat.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The coat is perfect,&#8221; said Isidore; &#8220;you have
+no heart or you would never find fault with such
+a back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Would you call me heartless?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I couldn't call you anything else,&#8221; replied the
+valet, bluntly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then why have you been with me, cat-fish, ever
+since I was born?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis had a stock of names for his servant,
+none of which he employed unless he felt in a good
+humour. Owl-pig, hog-mouse, ape-dog, rat-weasel,
+and cat-fish were the highest expressions of his amiability
+toward the man who had been his ill-tempered,
+dishonest, impudent, and treacherous attendant all the
+years of his life.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know, mule-viper,&#8221; he continued, &#8220;that no
+one else would keep you for five minutes. You are
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[371]</a></span>a liar, a thief, and a traitor. Yet I endure you. I
+agree that I must be either heartless or an idiot to put
+up with such a rogue.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Isidore grew livid, muttered blasphemies under his
+breath, and put pink cotton-wool in the toes of his
+master's dancing-shoes. Castrillon then kicked him
+into the adjoining room and resumed his gymnastic
+exercises. At the end of half an hour, the man re-entered
+carrying a note fastidiously between his left
+thumb and forefinger.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is that for me?&#8221; asked the Marquis, who was in
+the act of turning a double somersault with much
+agility.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is for Monsieur.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then read it aloud while I stand on my head.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Isidore tore it open and began to read as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Do not misjudge me</i>&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Stop!&#8221; exclaimed Castrillon, falling upon his feet
+at once; &#8220;that is from a woman. Why didn't you
+say so?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is from Madame Parflete,&#8221; replied Isidore.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Impossible!&#8221; said Castrillon, snatching it from his
+hand; &#8220;impossible!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He read the letter, flushed to the roots of his hair,
+and kicked Isidore for the second time.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You beast!&#8221; said he; &#8220;where did you get this?
+It is her writing, but she never wrote it&mdash;never on
+God's earth! Where did you get it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was given to me by one of her servants.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[372]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why the devil do you tell me such lies?&#8221; exclaimed
+the young man in a fury; &#8220;it's some d&mdash;&mdash;d practical
+joke in the most infernal bad taste, and, by God!
+I have a mind to shoot you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Castrillon was not given to the utterance of vain
+threats, and his anger was so great that the wretched
+Isidore, shaking, whining, and cursing, edged round
+the room with his back to the wall and his eyes fixed
+on his master.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Stand still, will you?&#8221; continued the Marquis;
+&#8220;I want to hear a little more. How much were you
+paid for giving me this twaddle? Answer me that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Two guineas!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Two? I'll bet you had twenty. Stand still, I tell
+you, or I'll kick you again. Do you expect me to
+believe that Mrs. Parflete's servant gave you twenty
+guineas?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, I don't,&#8221; answered Isidore. &#8220;I don't expect
+you to believe anything. But if that isn't Madame
+Parflete's writing, whose writing is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is just what I mean to find out,&#8221; replied
+Castrillon, &#8220;and that is why I won't shoot you till it
+suits my convenience.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Isidore, who had a venomous attachment to the
+Marquis, burst into tears. For many generations
+their respective ancestors had stood in the relation,
+each to the other, of tyrant and dependent. Isidore's
+father had robbed, cheated, deceived, and adored
+Castrillon's father; the fathers of these two reprobates
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[373]</a></span>had observed the same measure of whippings and
+treacheries, and so it had been always from the first
+registered beginnings of the noble and the slavish
+house. But an Isidore had never been known to leave
+a Castrillon's service. The hereditary, easy-going forbearance,
+on the one hand, which found killing less
+tedious than a crude dismissal, and the hereditary
+guilty conscience, on the other, which had to recognise
+the justice of punishment, kept the connection
+rudely loyal.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I detest you,&#8221; said Castrillon; &#8220;I hate the sight
+of you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Isidore blubbered aloud, and accepted the information
+as a turn for the better in the tide of his master's
+wrath.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who gave you that letter?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, if you must know, it was Signor Mudara.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mudara? Then Mudara wrote it. I'll wring his
+neck.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I'll wring his neck, too&mdash;if he has tried any of his
+games on me,&#8221; sobbed Isidore. &#8220;But it may not be a
+game. You are always so hasty.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Castrillon read the letter through once more.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can't believe that she wrote it,&#8221; he said. &#8220;I'll
+swear she didn't.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And why?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because the style is not in keeping with her
+character, blockhead! She does not ask me&mdash;or any
+one else&mdash;to visit her at two o'clock in the morning.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[374]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A revolting smile made the valet's loose-hanging,
+sullen lips quiver with emotion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, that is not Madame's style. She is too clever.
+But does that affect the opportunity!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What opportunity?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have the letter. It is for Madame herself to
+deny the handwriting&mdash;not you. Why should you, of
+all people, think it a joke? Why not act upon it?
+Why not ask her what it means?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At two in the morning? I have no wish to
+compromise Madame&mdash;not the least. She is too rich
+to compromise. She is the sort of lady one marries.
+Tell Mudara, with my compliments, he must understand
+gentlemen before he can play successful tricks
+upon them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will take my oath that I am not sure it is a
+trick,&#8221; answered Isidore.</p>
+
+<p>Castrillon studied the letter for a third time.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here and there,&#8221; he said, &#8220;it has the ring of her
+voice, and the words are the words she uses.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;With such a justification in my pocket, I know
+what I should do,&#8221; mumbled Isidore.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So do I. But you are the scum of the earth, and
+what you would, or wouldn't do, could only interest
+the hangman.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis locked the note in his dressing-case,
+and handed his keys, with his usual simplicity, to
+Isidore.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do not propose to tire myself with this nonsense
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[375]</a></span>before the play,&#8221; said he. &#8220;Get my raw eggs and
+milk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>At nine o'clock that evening, a brilliant company
+were gathered in the Salle de Comédie. Most of
+the Foreign Ambassadors, and about fifty illustrious
+personages of great social importance, were present.
+Prince d'Alchingen had resolved that the daughter of
+Henriette Duboc should have every opportunity of
+making a successful <i>début</i> in England. He had
+sprinkled most judiciously among his guests a few accredited
+experts in various departments of knowledge,
+and these he hoped would lead appreciation into the
+right channel by explaining, at fit intervals, just why
+Mrs. Parflete was beautiful and just where her art had
+its especial distinction. The play itself&mdash;<i>La Seconde
+Surprise de l'Amour</i>&mdash;by Pierre de Marivaux, was quite
+unknown to the audience. Brigit and Castrillon had
+appeared in it at Madrid, and descriptions of their
+success were whispered through the room. The story
+of her birth, her unhappy marriage, her adventures in
+Spain, and her relations with De Hausée had quickened
+curiosity to the highest pitch. Was she really so
+young? was she really so pretty? was she going on
+the public stage, or would she remain an accomplished,
+semi-royal amateur? No one referred openly to the
+late Archduke Charles, but the facts that Madame
+Duboc had been his Canonical wife, that Mrs. Parflete
+was the one child of their union, kept the whole
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[376]</a></span>aristocratic assembly thrilled with the sense of taking
+part in something as distinguished as a Court function,
+as exciting as a Court scandal, and as bewildering as a
+Court conspiracy. A string orchestra&mdash;conducted by
+Strauss himself&mdash;played French melodies of the
+eighteenth century. Would there be any dancing?
+would she sing? Henriette Duboc had been compared,
+as a dancer, to La Guimard, said Sir Piers
+Harding to the Duchess of Lossett. And who was
+La Guimard? asked the Duchess. And was Mrs.
+Parflete at all like her mother? And did she bear the
+extraordinary resemblance, <i>of which so much had been
+made</i>, to Marie Antoinette? Sir Piers felt bound to
+own that the likeness was remarkable. And this de
+Hausée&mdash;what of him? Had Sir Piers seen the odd
+announcement, about his name and antecedents, in the
+<i>Times</i>? The Duchess didn't know what to think. It
+was all so very odd, but most interesting, of course.
+Was M. de Hausée, by any chance, in the audience?
+No. Well, perhaps it was better taste on his part to
+keep away. The bell rang. All eyes turned toward
+the blue satin curtains; they moved: the lights were
+lowered; the violins played a languorous air: with a
+rustle&mdash;not unlike that caused by the movement of
+wings&mdash;the curtains were drawn back and disclosed an
+empty garden. Then, following the stage direction,
+the Marquise entered &#8220;<i>tristement sur la scène</i>.&#8221; The
+entrance was made quietly, and, for a breathless
+second, no one realised that the heroine of the evening
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[377]</a></span>had at last appeared. Her Grace of Lossett began to
+fear she felt a little disappointed when, in the nick of
+time, a great poet, who sat near her, murmured,
+&#8220;Divine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But at this point we may quote from the <i>Memoirs</i>
+of Lady Julia Babington:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p><i>Mrs. Parflete's personal appearance caused an immediate
+furore. Many disagreed about her claims to perfect beauty,
+but these hostile feelings did not last longer than five minutes.
+She was an extremely pretty woman; rather tall for her
+slight proportions, but elegant to a surprising degree. The
+extraordinary charm of her acting, her voice, her countenance,
+and her accent were delightful. It would have been impossible
+to display more grace, simplicity, and ingenuousness than
+she did: she gave several touches of pathos in a manner to make
+one cry, and to quite enchant all who bad taste enough and mind
+to appreciate her inimitable talent.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p>And again in the Letters of Charlotte, Lady
+Pardwicke, we read:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p><i>If Mrs. Parflete can be called handsome, it is certainly a
+</i>figure de fantasie<i>. She has a clear complexion, is young,
+tall; her manners are </i>doucereuses<i>, for, besides being a beauty,
+she has pretensions, I understand, to </i>bel-esprit<i>. The majority
+of those present were undeniably captivated by her peculiar
+fascination.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Augustus Barfield has the following remarks in his
+famous Journal:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p><i>There were no two opinions about the success of the
+</i>débutante<i>. We had been led to expect a good deal, but
+fortunately every description proved inaccurate, so, while she
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[378]</a></span>utterly failed to realise any single preconceived idea, she had
+the great advantage of appearing as some one wholly new.
+Rumour had prepared me equally for a St. Elizabeth, a
+Mademoiselle Mars, a Marie-Antoinette, a Récamier, or a
+Sophie Arnould. She resembled none of these ladies&mdash;being far
+more tragic in her nature than the rather sensual Queen of
+France, and she is clearly an uncommon individual in her own
+right. The women will squabble about her looks; the men will
+have views about her figure: all must agree that her fortune on
+the stage is assured. A more pleasing performance I never saw.
+Love, innocence, tenderness, grief, joy, petulance, uncertainty,
+modesty, despair&mdash;every feminine attribute, in fact, showed to
+admiration in her expressive features. Voice, bewitching.
+Gestures, exquisite. All, in fact, was truly enjoyable. I
+would not have missed the evening on any account.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Orange, it is true, had not joined the general company.
+But Prince d'Alchingen for reasons of his
+own, however, had offered the young man a seat in
+the one small box which had a gilded <i>grille</i> before it
+and was so made that it seemed part of the massive
+decoration.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You cannot be seen,&#8221; said the Prince; &#8220;I won't
+tell her that you are present; and I give you my word of
+honour that I won't tell anybody&mdash;not even my wife.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The temptation was irresistible. Robert accepted
+the invitation, and as he watched the play, it seemed
+to him that he had never known Brigit till that
+evening. He had seen her in dreams&mdash;yes; and
+talked to her in dreams, yes; but now at last she
+lived&mdash;a real creature. Lost in the part, she was able
+to throw aside the self-restraint which had given her
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[379]</a></span>always a cold, almost sexless quality. Her face
+betrayed a hundred changing emotions: the youth,
+strength, and passion so severely repressed in her own
+life came out, though still controlled, with full and
+perfect harmony in her art. It was one of those
+consummate revelations of temperament which, in
+silent or inactive lives, never come till the last
+hours before death&mdash;when in one look or one utterance
+all the time lost and all the long-concealed
+feelings take their reparation from existence. But
+with those who may express their true characters
+through the medium of some creative faculty, the
+illuminated moment comes at a psychic crisis&mdash;not
+to enforce the irony of death but to demonstrate and
+intensify the richness of humanity. The knowledge
+which depends upon suffering, and, in a way, springs
+from it, is good, yet it must always be incomplete.
+Happiness has its light also, and in order to get the
+right explanation of any soul, or to understand the
+eternal meaning of any situation, one must have had
+at least a few glad hours, felt the ecstasy of thoughtless
+joy, drifted a little while with the rushing,
+unhindered tide. As Robert, behind the <i>grille</i>,
+watched the animated, beautiful girl who seemed to
+typify the very springtime of the world, he felt he
+had peered too long at love and life through bars.
+He would have to break them, get on the other side,
+and join in the dazzling action. How unreal and
+far-away seemed all grief, remorse, or anxiety from
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[380]</a></span>that brilliant scene! Brigit was laughing, singing,
+dancing&mdash;fulfilling, surely enough, her real vocation.
+What! at seventeen, was she to sit pale, silent, tearful,
+and alone? At his age, was he to look on&mdash;with
+a dead heart and unseeing eyes, murmuring words of
+tame submission to a contemptuous Fate? His
+whole nature rose up in revolt, and the self he had
+once abdicated rushed back to him, howling out
+taunts which were not the less bitter because they
+were false. Not pausing to wonder whether the
+present were a profanation of the past, or the past an
+insipid forecast of the present, he was conscious only
+that a change&mdash;perhaps a terrible change&mdash;had taken
+place in his mind&mdash;a change so sudden and so violent
+that it had paralysed every power of analysis and
+reflection. Imaginative love&mdash;made up of renunciation
+and spirituality, gave way to the fierce desire to live,
+to silence the intolerable wisdom of the conscience,
+and learn folly for a space. He was madly jealous of
+Castrillon, who gazed into Brigit's eyes and uttered
+his lines with the most touching air of passionate
+devotion. She seemed to respond, and, in fact,
+their joint performance had that delicate, irresistible
+abandon&mdash;apparently unconscious and unpremeditated&mdash;which
+is only possible between two players who are
+not in love with each other. Where there is actual
+feeling, there is always a certain awkwardness and
+want of conviction (partly caused by the inadequacy
+of the diagram in comparison with the reality), and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[381]</a></span>the charm, so far as art is concerned, is wholly lost.
+An acted love was the only love possible between
+Brigit and Castrillon; hence its sincerity on the
+stage, where, as a merely assumed thing, it harmonised
+perfectly with its artificial surroundings&mdash;the
+canvas landscape, the painted trees, the mechanical
+birds, and the sunlight produced by tricks of gauze
+and gas. But Orange did not stop to consider this.
+It was enough and too much to see his &#8220;sad spirit of
+the elfin race&#8221; completely transformed. Was this the
+child-like, immature being of their strange visit to
+Miraflores? That whole episode seemed a kind of
+phantasy&mdash;a Midsummer Night's music&mdash;nothing
+more, perhaps something less. The very title of the
+play&mdash;<i>The Second Surprise of Love</i>&mdash;carried a mocking
+significance. Sometimes the soul speaks first, sometimes
+the senses first influence a life, but the turn,
+soon or late, must inevitably come for each, and the
+man or woman, sick of materialism, who begins to
+suspect that the unseen world and its beauty is an
+inheritance more lasting and more to be desired than
+all the vindictive joys of this prison-house, has no
+such bitterness as the idealist who finds himself
+brought into thrilling touch with the physical loveliness,
+the actual enchantment, the undeniable delight
+of certain things in life. The questions, &#8220;What have
+I missed? What have I lost? What birthright
+have I renounced?&#8221; are bound to make themselves
+heard. They beat upon the heart like hail upon the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[382]</a></span>sand&mdash;and fall buried in the scars they cause. Things
+of the flesh may and do become dead sea fruit; but
+things of the spirit often become stale and meaningless
+also. What is more weary than a tired mind?
+What joys and labours are more exhausting than
+those of the intellect, and the intellect only? Does
+an idle week in summer ever beget more lassitude or
+such disgust of life as a month&mdash;alone with books&mdash;in
+a library? Dissatisfaction and satiety, melancholy
+and fatigue show as plainly in the pages of à Kempis
+as they do in Schopenhauer, as they do in Lucretius,
+as they do in St. Bernard, as they do in Montaigne,
+in Marcus Aurelius, in Dante, in St. Teresa. They
+are, indeed, the ever-recurrent cries in human feeling,
+the ever-recurrent phases in human thought. Uninterrupted
+contentment was never yet found in any
+calling or state; the saints were haggard with combats;
+sleep, the most reposeful state we know, has its
+fearful sorrows, hideous terrors, pursuing uncertainties.
+Robert's spirit, stimulated by jealousy, played round
+these reflections, common enough at all times, but, as
+all common things, overwhelming at the first moment
+of their complete realisation. The original frame of
+his mind joined a defiance of formal precedent and an
+intense openness to every fine pleasure of sense with
+an impatience of all that makes for secrecy and an
+abhorrence of the substitutes which are sometimes
+basely, sometimes madly, accepted in default of true
+objects. He could not desire the star and find solace
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[383]</a></span>in the glow-worm&mdash;pursue Isolde and lag by the way
+with Moll Flanders. It was true that he had resolved
+to put stars and Isolde alike from his life. It was true
+that he had bound himself to certain fair ambitions
+beyond the determinations of calculation and experience.
+It was true that he had resolved to sacrifice
+this world to the next. He knew the claims which
+the world to come has upon us. But did he know
+the world he was renouncing? How that doubt
+opened the way to further doubts! Was he a fool
+for his pains? Was an enfeebling and afflicting of
+the natural man so necessary to the exaltation of the
+soul? Was the soul in itself so weak that it could
+only rest decently in a sick body? Could it only
+wish for something greater than this earth can give
+by being artificially saddened?</p>
+
+<p>Such questions have their answers, but they do not
+occur very readily to young men hopelessly in love
+and half out of their wits with jealousy. He might
+have taken refuge in prayer, but at that moment he
+did not want to pray. He wanted to think about
+himself, to be himself throughout the entire reach of
+his consciousness, to lose himself in the tempest of
+emotion which seemed to drive out, beat, and shatter
+every hindrance to its furious sweep. A smouldering
+fire is for a while got under, and yet by suppression is
+but thrown in, to spread more widely and deeply than
+before. So his fatal affection, perhaps pitilessly
+fought down in the first instance&mdash;asserted its power<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[384]</a></span>&mdash;its
+power for evil. Not to love was not to live. He
+was dead while he lived. He could not find peace in
+an invisible world of which he did not see any more
+even a shadow round about him. <i>Shall not the day of
+the Lord be darkness and not light? even very dark, and
+no brightness in it?</i> He did not believe that. What
+miserable scruples to torment, blind, and pollute the
+soul! Pascal has written that there are thousands
+who sin without regret, who sin with gladness, who
+feel no warning and no interior desire not to sin.
+They doubted, hated, loved, acted, felt, and thought
+just as they pleased. Perhaps they were not happy,
+but if they received the punishment of wrong-doing,
+the wrong at least was committed out of fetters and
+joyously. It is not until men find themselves assailed
+by a strong wish that they perceive how very still and
+very small, all but inaudible, the still, small voice
+can be. A moment comes when one ceases to think&mdash;one
+wills, and if one is able and the will is sufficiently
+determined, the purpose is carried into effect.
+Temptations to steal, to lie, to deceive, to gamble, to
+excess in drink and the like cannot approach a certain
+order of mind. But the craving for knowledge and a
+fuller life&mdash;either in a spiritual or the human way&mdash;is
+implanted ineradicably in every soul, and while it
+may rest inert and seem nullified in a kind of apathy,
+the craving is there&mdash;to be aroused surely enough at
+some dangerous hour. And of all the dangerous
+hours in life, the hour of disappointed love is the most
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[385]</a></span>critical. Calm spectators of mortal folly who have
+been satisfactorily married for twenty years and more,
+who have sons to provide for and daughters to establish,
+cherish a disdain of love-stories and boast that
+they have no patience with morbidity. Love&mdash;which
+put them into being and keeps the earth in existence&mdash;seems
+to all such a silly malady peculiar to the
+sentimental in early youth. So they put the First
+Cause&mdash;in one of its many manifestations&mdash;in the
+waste-paper basket, asking each other what will
+become of Charles if he cannot find a rich wife, and
+poor Alice, if she cannot entrap a suitable husband.
+But there are others who look on life with some hope
+of understanding it truly, in part, at any rate, and
+these know, perhaps by experience, perhaps by
+sympathy, that whereas bodily disturbances may pass
+away leaving little or no effect upon the general health,
+all mental tumults are perpetual in their consequences:
+they never die out entirely, and they live, sometimes
+with appalling energy, sometimes with gnawing listlessness,
+to the end of an existence. Robert, in the
+judgment of his intellect and his senses, had found his
+ideal. Brigit did not belong to &#8220;the despised day of
+small things&#8221;; she was the woman of his imagination&mdash;the
+well-beloved, and having gained her, was he to
+say&mdash;Farewell? It seemed so. Meanwhile, the
+graceful, swaying dialogue rippled between the players
+on the stage; the smiling audience, hushed with
+interest, gazed at the delightful beings before them;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[386]</a></span>the exquisite Marquise had uttered her two last
+speeches&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="center"><p>&#8220;<i>Je ne croyois pas l'amitié si dangereuse.</i>&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p>and&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="center"><p>&#8220;<i>Je ne me mêle plus de rien!</i>&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p>Lubin brought the performance to an end by the
+final utterance&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="center"><p>&#8220;<i>Allons de la joie!</i>&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p>The curtain fell&mdash;to rise again a dozen times.
+Orange did not hear the door of the box being
+opened. Prince d'Alchingen came in and put a hand
+on the young man's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Would you like to see her?&#8221; he whispered. &#8220;I
+can arrange it. No one need know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But the training of a lifetime and constant habits
+of thought were stronger still than any mood.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; said Robert, shortly, &#8220;I won't see her. I
+must get back to London at once.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[387]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>The Prince looked at him in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can't get to London to-night,&#8221; said he; &#8220;there
+are no trains.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can walk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is thirty-five miles.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am accustomed to long walks.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At any rate you will have some supper first&mdash;in
+my little breakfast-room. Don't refuse, because I
+want you to meet Castrillon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Castrillon! I should like to meet Castrillon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then I will tell him. You and he can take
+supper together. He doesn't want to join the big
+party. He has the artist's detestation of the chattering
+mob. How well he plays! And what a
+triumph for&mdash;Madame!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A great triumph.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This corridor leads to my tiny cupboard&mdash;the
+merest cupboard! Follow me.&#8221; They went through
+several doors and up several small staircases till they
+reached a small apartment furnished in old blue
+damask, heavily fringed with tarnished gold and
+silver decorations.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[388]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;A few souvenirs of my hereditary castle in
+Alberia,&#8221; explained the Prince; &#8220;they relieve my
+sense of exile.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He walked across the floor and tapped on what
+appeared to be a portion of the wall.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We are here,&#8221; said he.</p>
+
+<p>The secret door was opened, and Castrillon, still
+wearing his costume as the Chevalier, joined them. If
+one may believe Prince d'Alchingen's account of this
+unfortunate meeting, the young men greeted each
+other with composure. D'Alchingen declares that
+he studied Orange to the depths of his soul, and he
+does him the justice to say that he did not make a
+movement or utter a word which denoted the least
+emotion. There was not any sort of alteration in his
+countenance, and he led the conversation with a
+tranquillity and a gaiety really enchanting. When
+the supper was served, His Excellency had no hesitation
+in leaving the rivals together&mdash;so convinced was
+he that they would remain on good terms.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;M. de Castrillon,&#8221; said Orange, when the Prince
+had gone, &#8220;I cannot sit down at supper with you.
+We have to settle an old score.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Castrillon bowed:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am here to learn your wishes. I have heard
+from several sources that you wished to see me. If
+you have anything to say, pray say it quickly,
+because&mdash;I have an appointment with Mrs. Parflete.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[389]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will you do me the favour to leave that lady's
+name out of the discussion?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see no reason why I should do you favours,
+M. de Hausée. But I am quite ready to atone for
+my indifference by any course of action which could
+satisfy the most scrupulous delicacy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is but one course of action open to us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall be happy to have the honour of meeting
+you on your own terms. But,&#8221; he added, contemptuously,
+&#8220;we are both wasting our time over
+a worthless woman. She was seen leaving your
+lodgings on Wednesday last. I have just heard this.
+And I received, before the play began this evening, a
+letter from her fixing a <i>rendez-vous</i> for two o'clock.
+If you doubt me I can show you the letter. I am as
+much disappointed as you are. She has fooled us
+both. Before God I could have sworn she was a
+religious and modest woman.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His chagrin was so genuine that it was impossible
+to doubt his good faith.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is a lie,&#8221; said Orange; &#8220;she was never at my
+lodgings.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't call <i>you</i> a liar, M. de Hausée, but I can
+prove my words, whereas it might be difficult to prove
+yours. I can show you the letter.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She never wrote it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Castrillon sat on the edge of the table, and poured
+out some wine.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is what I said,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;when I read
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[390]</a></span>it. So long as we are going to fight, let it be because
+we hate each other, and not because we have both
+been deceived by the same prude.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In other words,&#8221; said Orange, quietly, &#8220;you wish
+to drive a good bargain, knowing that whether you
+utter one insult or twenty, I can but fight you once.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>A l'outrance</i>, however,&#8221; answered Castrillon, dipping
+a biscuit into the glass.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, <i>à l'outrance</i>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This being the case, let me tell you a few of my
+ideas. You find life very hard. I find it altogether
+amusing. I don't love a woman the less when I cease
+to honour her. I don't honour a man the less when
+I detest him. If you should kill me, M. de Hausée,
+it will be the most respectable occurrence in my
+immortality. But if I should kill you, it will be the
+vile conclusion of an exemplary career.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your conversation is most entertaining, Monsieur.
+I am, unhappily, in no mood to listen to it. May I
+ask you to meet me to-morrow with your second at
+three o'clock at Calais? We can then go on to
+Dunkerque and settle this difference.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am perfectly agreeable.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They arranged a few more details and parted. The
+interview, which took place in French, is not easily
+reproduced in English. Orange wrote one account
+of the scene, and Castrillon confided another to Prince
+d'Alchingen, and the above is probably as nearly as
+possible a faithful description of what actually passed.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[391]</a></span></p>
+<p>Robert left Hadley Lodge, and plunged through
+the darkness toward London. He reached Vigo
+Street about seven o'clock in the morning. It was
+Sunday, and the streets were silent. He let himself
+into the house with a latch-key, and groped his way
+up the creaking unlit staircase. On entering his
+room, the draught between the open window and
+the door set all his papers whirling from his writing-table,
+and, by a strange accident, dislodged his crucifix
+from its nail. It fell to the ground, and when he
+picked it up, the small Figure was broken. This
+accident seemed an ill omen, but he put it from his
+thoughts, and scrawled a hasty letter to Charles
+Aumerle, asking him to be his second. This he
+delivered himself at Aumerle's chambers in St.
+James's Place, saying that he would call for an
+answer at nine. But Aumerle, ever fond of adventures,
+was at Vigo Street at half-past eight.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you are bent upon it,&#8221; said he, &#8220;I will do
+everything in my power to see it through. I think
+you are quite right. Every one will say the same.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The two left for Calais by the first boat that
+morning. Castrillon, and Isidore, and a young
+Frenchman, M. de Lamoignon, were on board also.
+At Calais the two seconds conferred, and the duel
+was arranged to take place in a field near Dunkerque
+on the following morning. On the following
+morning, the four men met. The combatants were
+placed at fifteen paces from each other. They fired
+simultaneously and Castrillon fell&mdash;mortally wounded.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[392]</a></span></p><h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2>
+
+
+<p>Brigit returned on Monday to Pensée at Curzon
+Street. It was the anniversary of Lord Fitz Rewes's
+death. The two women went to Catesby, where
+they visited his grave together, prayed together, and,
+in the quiet evening, sat by the library fire.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is a great contrast for you after all the
+excitement on Saturday night,&#8221; said Pensée. &#8220;You
+are full of surprises, Brigit. Few young girls, having
+made such a brilliant success, would care to spend
+their time with poor, dull women like me. They would
+naturally wish to enjoy the triumph.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Brigit's eyes filled with tears.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know what you mean, <i>cher coeur</i>,&#8221; she answered,
+&#8220;but there are no triumphs for any artist. We suffer
+and we work&mdash;sometimes we are able to please. But
+we suffer and work because we must; whereas we
+please by the merest accident.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is true, no doubt. One might as well
+speak of a successful saint as a successful artist.
+Every saint is not canonized, and every artist is not
+praised. But surely appreciation is a help.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[393]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, dearest; and I am grateful for it. And it
+gives encouragement to one's friends!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let us suppose that they had not cared for your
+acting, dear child. What then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I should have known that it was my vocation just
+the same. Don't believe that I shan't have my full
+share of doubts and struggles. This little first step
+makes me the more anxious about my next.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The older woman looked at her, and sighed deeply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are too young to know life so well! I am
+sure you have suffered more severely than any of us&mdash;who
+say more and cry more. Your face has
+changed a good deal in the last day or two. In
+one way, it isn't so pretty as it was.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No one can look quite so plain as I can look,
+Pensée,&#8221; she answered, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me finish what I had in my mind! You
+are not so pretty&mdash;not so much like a picture. But
+when I see you now, I don't think about your features
+at all. I watch your expressions&mdash;they suggest the
+whole world to me&mdash;all the things I have thought and
+felt. Rachel's face is like that. I am sure now that
+you were meant to be an actress. I have been very
+stupid. How I wish I understood you better, and
+could be more of a friend. I don't understand Robert
+entirely. Do you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I understand him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wonder how you came to love each other. I
+suppose it happened for the best. But it seems such a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[394]</a></span>pity&#8221;&mdash;she paused and then repeated the words&mdash;&#8220;it
+seems such a pity that all doesn't come right&mdash;in the
+old-fashioned way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It has come right, dear,&#8221; said Brigit; &#8220;perfectly
+right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You try to think so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know it. His father sinned, and my father
+sinned. We were born for unhappiness. Unhappiness
+and misgivings are in our very blood.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But how unjust!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, dearest, on the contrary, it is strict justice.
+The laws of the universe are immutable. You might
+as well ask that fire should only burn sometimes&mdash;that
+it may be water, or air, or earth to suit sentimental
+occasions.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't like to see you so sensible&mdash;it's&mdash;it's
+<i>unlikely</i>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Brigit smiled at the word&mdash;a favourite one with
+Pensée when persons and events differed from the
+serene, unreasoned fiction which she called her experience.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How can you call anything unlikely?&#8221; asked the
+girl. &#8220;I ought never to have been born at all, and
+Life has made no provision for me. She is boisterous
+and homely&mdash;like a housekeeper at an inn. She
+doesn't know me, and she has prepared no room for
+me. But I may rest on the staircase&mdash;that's under
+shelter at least.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What whimsical ideas, darling!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[395]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, to feel as I feel, you must have had my
+parents. You mustn't suppose that I woke up one
+morning and saw the reason for all my troubles. The
+reason did not come as though it were the sun shining
+into the room. Oh, no! I found no answer for a
+long, long time. But I feel it now. My father
+could not take me into his world, and my mother's
+world&mdash;<i>I</i> could not take. They wished to know
+that I was protected, so they found some one who
+knew the story, and knew both worlds. I was grateful,
+because I didn't understand. And when I understood
+I was still grateful, but I couldn't accept the
+terms. My marriage was not so terrible as many
+marriages. Yet it was terrible enough. Don't let
+us talk of it, Pensée. It is hopeless to quarrel with
+logic. Science is calm&mdash;as calm as the hills.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And Robert?&#8221; said the older woman. &#8220;What
+about Robert?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;His father was a Dominican. The Church will
+have her own again. Be quite sure of that!</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<i>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Thy justice is like the great mountains.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy judgments are a great deep.&#8217;<br /></span>
+</i>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>In God's way, all will come right. Every debt
+must be paid.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Although they had arranged to journey back to
+London the following day, the woods and gardens
+looked so fair, the peace of that house was so great,
+that they lingered there till Wednesday. Brigit was
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[396]</a></span>unusually silent. She sat for hours at the library
+window looking across the Channel toward France,
+her countenance drawn and white, all its loveliness
+departed.</p>
+
+<p>Once she spoke&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know that Robert is in sorrow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are you anxious? Shall I write?&#8221; asked Pensée,
+secretly troubled also.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, I am not anxious. There is sorrow, but I
+am not anxious.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her room adjoined Pensée's, and, in the night,
+Pensée, sleepless, heard her walking to and fro, with
+even steps, till sunrise. When they met in the
+morning, Brigit seemed to have aged by ten years.
+Her youth returned, but the character of her face had
+altered for ever. She was never called pretty again.
+It was said that she varied and depended wholly on
+her moods. She could make herself anything, but
+nature had given her little more than a pair of eyes,
+a nose, and a mouth&mdash;indifferent good. Lady Fitz
+Rewes was appalled at the transformation. Remembering
+stories of the last dreadful touches of consumption,
+she feared for the girl's health. &#8220;She will die
+before long,&#8221; she thought. But death can occur
+more than once in one life. The passing away of
+every strong emotion means a burial and a grave, a
+change, and a resurrection. The tearful, dusty, fiery,
+airy process must be endured seventy times seven and
+more, and more again&mdash;from everlasting to everlasting.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[397]</a></span>And the cause is nothing, the motives are nothing, the
+great, great affliction and the child's little woe pass
+alike through the Process&mdash;for the Process belongs to
+the eternal law, whereas the rest is of the heart's
+capacity.</p>
+
+<p>The way to the city&mdash;through the beautiful south
+of England, beautiful at all seasons of the year and
+sad also at all seasons&mdash;brought something which
+resembled calm to both their minds. Dwellings
+closely packed together destroy, or disturb, the finer
+vision of the grandeur, sternness, and depth of life.
+At Catesby, the solitude and the waves exercised
+their power over the spirit, diverting it from trivial
+speculations to awe and wonder. There, where the
+unseen could move freely and the invisible manifest
+itself on the perpetual rocks, the towering trees, the
+still green fields, and the vast acres of the sea, one
+could hear the dreaming prophet proclaim the burden
+of the Lord; and the voice of mirth and the voice of
+gladness, the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of
+the bride, the sound of the mill-stones and the light
+of the candle mattered not. But the kingdom of all
+the worlds&mdash;the worlds and habitations not made with
+hands&mdash;rose up as the real theatre of man's destiny
+and the fit measure of his achievements. It is that
+sense of the eternity of consequences&mdash;and that sense
+only&mdash;which can satisfy the human heart. Time is
+too short, this planet is too small, and this mortal
+body is too weak for the surging thoughts, the unin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[398]</a></span>telligible
+desires of the soul. Nothing less than infinity
+can hallow emotions: their passingness&mdash;which seems
+the rule in the fever and turmoil of city life&mdash;is not
+their abatement but their degradation. Change they
+must, but perish utterly they may not.</p>
+
+<p>The women travellers, as the lights of the capital
+grew more numerous, and the roar of the traffic louder
+and more constant, drew back within themselves,
+assuming, unconsciously, the outward bearing&mdash;fatigued,
+sceptical, and self-distrustful&mdash;of the town-bred.
+When they reached Curzon Street, the two
+heaps of letters, the telegrams and cards on the hall-table
+symbolised crudely enough the practical side of
+daily affairs. One name&mdash;an unknown one&mdash;among
+the many engraved on the white scraps caught Brigit's
+attention at once:</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<p><i>The Rev. J. M. Foster.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;That gentleman is a priest, Madam,&#8221; said the
+butler; &#8220;he will call again this evening. I told
+him that we expected you and her Ladyship about
+seven.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For some reason she felt alarmed. All that day and
+the night before she had been agitated by an inexplicable
+dread of strange tidings. She went to her
+room, but, without removing her travelling cloak or
+her hat, she sat down on the edge of her bed, waiting
+for some summons. Presently it came. Father
+Foster was in the library with Lady Fitz Rewes.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[399]</a></span>Would Mrs. Parflete see him? She went down,
+and Pensée stood watching for her at the open
+door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My poor child!&#8221; she said, with a sob in her voice,
+as she drew Brigit into the room. &#8220;My poor child,&#8221;
+she repeated, &#8220;Father Foster has come to tell us that&mdash;that
+Mr. Parflete died last night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The priest stepped forward with the decision, and
+also the stern kindness, of those accustomed to break
+hard messages.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He was injured in a quarrel, and died from the
+effect of the wound. He declined to give any particulars
+of the affair, and I fear we must call it a mystery.
+He asked me to say that his last words to you
+were these: <i>Amate da cui male aveste</i>&mdash;Love those
+from whom ye have had evil.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her compassionately as he spoke,
+wondering, no doubt, how great the evil had been.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can I go to him?&#8221; asked Brigit; &#8220;where is
+he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where he died&mdash;in his room at the hotel.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will go with you,&#8221; said Pensée. She held
+Brigit's hand, and exchanged a long glance with
+Father Foster.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did you say,&#8221; she asked, &#8220;that he left any letters
+or papers?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He destroyed all his papers, but he has left one
+letter addressed to you. He wished me to say, in the
+presence of Mrs. Parflete, that this had reference to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[400]</a></span>some false report about her visiting Mr. Orange's
+lodgings. Mr. Parflete saw the lady who went to
+Vigo Street, and he did not know who she was. One
+thing, however, he did know: he had never seen
+her before.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Brigit inclined her head, but remained motionless,
+where she first halted when she entered the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did he die in pain?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am afraid he suffered greatly.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Was his mind at peace?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I believe so&mdash;from my heart.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He had less to fear from God than man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The justice of God is severe,&#8221; said the priest,
+&#8220;but He can never make mistakes. The hardest
+cruelties in this life are the mistakes which we
+commit in judging others&mdash;perhaps in judging ourselves.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The carriage is at the door,&#8221; whispered Pensée,
+touching Brigit's arm. &#8220;Shall we go?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nothing was said during the drive to the hotel
+near Covent Garden. Brigit sat with closed eyes
+and folded hands while Lady Fitz Rewes, lost in
+thought, stared out of the window. At last the
+horses stopped.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is the place,&#8221; said Father Foster.</p>
+
+<p>A large gas-lamp hung over the entrance, and two
+Swiss waiters, with forced solemnity, ushered the
+party through the hall and up the staircase. They
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[401]</a></span>tapped at a door, listened, from force of habit, for an
+answer which never came, and then turned the
+handle. Parflete's bed had been moved to the
+centre of the room. There was a table covered
+with a white cloth, on which four candles burnt.
+By the window there was a chair littered with illustrated
+newspapers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The nurse has just gone down to his supper,&#8221;
+explained one of the waiters, &#8220;but <i>le mort est bien
+convenable</i>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The dead man had been dressed in a rose-silk shirt
+embroidered with forget-me-nots. Upon his crossed
+arms lay a small ivory crucifix. In place of his wig
+he wore a black velvet skull-cap. The face was
+yellow: the features seemed set in a defiant, ironical
+smile. Hardship, terror, remorse, and physical agony
+had left their terrible scars upon his countenance.</p>
+
+<p>Brigit, overcome at the sight of these awful
+changes, fell weeping on Pensée's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank God!&#8221; she whispered, &#8220;he has no more
+to fear from men.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>When she grew calmer, she knelt down by the
+body, and told them that she would watch there
+that night.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Madness!&#8221; exclaimed Lady Fitz Rewes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no! I wish to do it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The priest stated a few objections, but she remained
+firm in her resolve.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He was my father's friend,&#8221; she said, quietly.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[402]</a></span></p>
+<p>They both noticed that she never once referred to
+Parflete as her husband.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you stay, Brigit, I too will stay,&#8221; said Pensée.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That, dearest, you must decide for yourself. In
+any case, I cannot leave him. Tell the nurse not to
+come back. And let me be alone here for a little
+while.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Fitz Rewes and Father Foster went downstairs
+to the coffee-room, and made a pretence of eating
+dinner. The two talked about the deplorable marriage,
+the Orange affair, Brigit's talents. Of course,
+she was very young. But Rachel&mdash;the great Rachel&mdash;made
+her first triumph at seventeen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One doesn't like to say it,&#8221; observed Pensée, &#8220;but
+this death seems providential. If she marries Orange,
+she will give up the stage. Poor child! At last it
+really looks as though she might be happy&mdash;like other
+people.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Like other people,&#8221; repeated the priest, mechanically.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I must send word to my housekeeper that I intend
+to remain here all night. And I should like our
+letters&mdash;I had no time to look at them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A messenger was despatched, and they resumed
+their former conversation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am afraid,&#8221; said Pensée, &#8220;that poor Mr. Parflete
+was dreadfully wicked.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The priest sighed, and made some remarks about
+the dead man's intellectual brilliancy:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He had great learning.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[403]</a></span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tell me, Father, with all your experience, do you
+understand life?&#8221; asked Pensée, abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me take refuge in a quotation&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<i>
+<span class="i8">&#8216;Justice divine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mends not her slowest pace for pray'rs or cries.&#8217;<br /></span>
+</i>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>I can understand that at least,&#8221; answered the
+priest.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How odd that you should speak of justice. Brigit
+was talking in the same strain only yesterday. It's a
+gloomy strain&mdash;for a young girl.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't think so. One shouldn't sentimentalise.
+Life goes on, it doesn't halt: it's a constant development.
+I haven't much patience with&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>He stopped short.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pray finish the sentence.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I haven't much patience with those who
+want to linger, and look back, and cheat time. One
+must get along.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pensée felt annoyed, and began to talk coldly about
+the housing of the poor, and winters which she had
+spent in Florence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here are your letters,&#8221; exclaimed her companion
+suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>She turned them over with languid interest, murmuring
+unconsciously to herself the names of her
+correspondents.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;From dear Ethel. Why is she in Edinburgh? I
+hope her father isn't ill again. Alice. Uncle. Mrs.
+Lanark. Mary Butler. Prince d'Alchingen. That
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[404]</a></span>tiresome Miss Bates. Mr. Seward.&#8221; She paused and
+flushed deeply. &#8220;Robert.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then she turned to Father Foster with shining eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This letter,&#8221; said she, &#8220;is from Mr. Orange.
+Don't you admire his handwriting?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A beautiful hand, certainly.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wonder what he has to say, and why he is
+abroad. Isn't that a foreign stamp?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The post-mark is Paris.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So it is. Will you excuse me if I read it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She broke the seal, and read the contents, while
+every vestige of colour left her face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can't make it out,&#8221; she said; &#8220;there must be
+another letter for Brigit. Will you look?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He untied the packet, and recognised presently
+Orange's handwriting on an envelope.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You seem rather displeased,&#8221; said Pensée; &#8220;you
+think this is all very strange. It&mdash;it isn't a common
+case.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No case is common.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, you must help me to decide whether I
+ought to give her this letter at once. I can't take
+so much responsibility.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Neither can I. She is a perfectly free woman
+now, at any rate.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He did not approve of the situation, and he made
+no attempt to conceal his feelings. His face became
+set. Pensée thought she detected a certain reprimand
+in the very tone of his voice.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[405]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It isn't a common case,&#8221; she repeated again.
+&#8220;He says he is on his way to Rome&mdash;to the Jesuits&mdash;for
+a long Retreat, if they will take him. If he
+knew&mdash;what has happened&mdash;he might change his
+mind.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What! you would have him turn back?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, don't be so hard.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am not hard,&#8221; he added more gently. &#8220;But
+would this woman, if she really loved him, wish him
+to turn back? And, if there is anything in him,
+could he ever be happy in any stopping short of
+the fullest renunciation&mdash;once resolved on that
+renunciation?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, don't put it that way to her. She has had
+so much trouble already. Your Church seems so
+selfish. Forgive me, but I do resent these celibate
+views. They are unnatural.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shan't interfere. Take her the letter by all
+means. She must decide for herself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pensée rose from the table, and went up the stairs
+to the room where Brigit still knelt by Parflete's dead
+body.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dearest,&#8221; said Lady Fitz Rewes, &#8220;I think you
+ought to read this letter. I have had one also.
+Robert thinks of taking a great step, and perhaps&mdash;&mdash;&#8220;</p>
+
+<p>Her glance met Brigit's.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; said Brigit, under her breath: &#8220;no.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then, with trembling hands, she read the letter
+once, twice, three times.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[406]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Say something,&#8221; said Pensée, touching her. &#8220;Say
+something, Brigit.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She smiled and held the letter to the candle flame.
+It caught fire and burnt away quickly while she
+held it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mind your hand&mdash;it will catch your hand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don't feel it,&#8221; said Brigit. She bore the scar of
+that burn always.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say something,&#8221; implored Pensée.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He is on his way to Rome. He asks me not to
+write to him. Castrillon is dying. They fought a
+duel.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But of course you will write&mdash;now. You must
+write.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hasn't my love done harm enough already? I
+will never see him again. I shall never write to him
+again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can't mean that. You can't realise what
+you are saying. People will like him all the better
+for fighting Castrillon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, it isn't the duel, Pensée. He sees his way
+clearly. He has always tried not to see it. I, too,
+have tried not to see it. But all that is at an end
+now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And he will renounce his career.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Everything! Everything!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pensée threw up her hands, and left the room.
+Father Foster was standing under a gas-jet at the end
+of the corridor reading his office. He looked at Lady
+Fitz Rewes.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[407]</a></span></p>
+<p>&#8220;She won't stand in his way?&#8221; he asked quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She won't stand in his way,&#8221; she answered. &#8220;I
+hope you realise what that means&mdash;to her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I hope I can realise what it means to both of
+them,&#8221; said he.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[408]</a></span></p><h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2>
+
+
+<p>In 1879, a distinguished author who was engaged in
+writing a history of the Catholic Movement in
+England, begged Mr. Disraeli, then Earl of Beaconsfield,
+for some particulars, not generally known, of
+Robert Orange's life.</p>
+
+<p>He replied as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="i16"><span class="smcap">Hughenden Manor</span>, <i>Nov. 28, 1879</i>.</p><p class="nospaceabove"><span class="smcap">My dear F.</span>,&mdash;You ask me for an estimate of
+Monsignor Orange. Questions are always easy. Let
+me offer you facts in return. The Castrillon duel was
+a nine days' wonder&mdash;much discussed and soon forgotten.
+Castrillon left a letter with his second, M. de Lamoignon,
+to the effect that he had offered Orange &#8220;intolerable
+insults&#8221; which &#8220;no man of honour&#8221; could have suffered.
+Mrs. Parflete's name did not transpire, but Prince
+d'Alchingen and others gave speculation no industry on
+the matter. We were at no loss to know the real cause
+of the quarrel. Orange applied for the Chiltern Hundreds
+and went into strict retreat for six months. During that
+time he saw no friends, wrote no letters, read none. I
+remember his conduct was severely criticised, because the
+death of Parflete opened out other possibilities of action.
+He was not a man, however, whom one could order to be
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[409]</a></span>this, that, or the other; still less could one reproach him
+for not being this, that, or the other. It was his faith to
+believe that salvation rests on the negation and renunciation
+of personality. He pushed this to the complete
+suppression of his Will, tenderly considered. I need not
+detain you on the familiar dogmas of Christianity with
+regard to the reign of nature and the reign of grace.
+Your view may be expressed thus:&mdash;</p><div class="center"><p>&#8220;<i>Puis-qu'il aime à périr, je consens qu'il périsse</i>,</p></div><p>and you will think that Orange said of Mrs. Parflete, as
+Polyeucte of his wife:&mdash;</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>&#8220;Je ne regarde Pauline</i><br/></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Que comme un obstacle à mon bien.&#8221;</i><br/></span>
+</div></div>
+<p>This would be an injustice. Orange was, to me, a
+deeply interesting character. I saw little of him after he
+entered the priesthood, but his writings, his sermons, and
+the actual work he accomplished proved conclusively
+enough that he was right in following&mdash;and we were
+wrong in opposing&mdash;his true vocation. The Church
+received her own again. Rome did not smile at him at
+first. A de Hausée, however, never yet tapped long at
+any gate. The family&mdash;which had been stirred to fury
+by his father's trespass&mdash;welcomed the son as a prodigal
+manqué. His aunt, the Princess Varese, left him half
+of her large fortune. He lived himself in great seclusion
+and simplicity, and died, as you are aware, of over-work
+last year. The one friend he corresponded with and
+occasionally saw was Lady Fitz Rewes. Sara de Treverell
+did not marry the Duke of Marshire, but three years
+before Orange's death she took the veil, and is now a
+Carmelite nun. Many people were amazed at this, but I
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[410]</a></span>was not. Mrs. Parflete, Orange never saw again after the
+night of her performance at Prince d'Alchingen's. Her
+career continues. From time to time a rumour reaches me
+that she is about to marry a nobleman, an author, her
+manager, or an American millionaire. Quite a mistake.
+She, too, is a visionary, and, I should say, respectable.
+If you have not seen her act, seize the first opportunity.
+If you think of writing more than the merest sketch of
+Orange's strange career, may I suggest the following motto
+from the <i>Purgatorio</i>?&mdash;</p><div class="center"><p>&#8220;<i>Cast down the seed of weeping and attend.</i>&#8221;</p></div><p class="i8">Yours very sincerely, my dear F.,</p><p class="i12 nospaceabove"><span class="smcap">Beaconsfield</span>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="center">
+<p style="margin-top: 3em;"><span class="smcap">unwin brothers, the gresham press, woking and london.</span></p></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2><a name="BOOKS_FOR_RECREATION_AND_STUDY" id="BOOKS_FOR_RECREATION_AND_STUDY"></a>BOOKS FOR RECREATION AND STUDY</h2>
+
+<div class="center">
+<p>
+PUBLISHED BY<br/>
+T. FISHER UNWIN,<br/>
+11, PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS,<br/>
+LONDON, E.C....
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>SIX-SHILLING NOVELS</h2>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>In uniform green cloth, large crown 8vo., gilt tops</i>, <b>6s.</b></h3>
+
+<div class="hangindent">
+<p><b>Effie Hetherington.</b> By <span class="smcap">Robert Buchanan</span>. Second Edition.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>An Outcast of the Islands.</b> By <span class="smcap">Joseph Conrad</span>. Second
+  Edition.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>Almayer's Folly.</b> By <span class="smcap">Joseph Conrad</span>. Second Edition.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>The Ebbing of the Tide.</b> By <span class="smcap">Louis Becke</span>. Second Edition.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>A First Fleet Family.</b> By <span class="smcap">Louis Becke</span> and <span class="smcap">Walter
+  Jeffery</span>.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>Paddy's Woman,</b> and Other Stories. By <span class="smcap">Humphrey James</span>.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>Clara Hopgood.</b> By <span class="smcap">Mark Rutherford</span>. Second Edition.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>The Tales of John Oliver Hobbes.</b> Portrait of the Author. Second
+  Edition.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>The Stickit Minister.</b> By S. R. <span class="smcap">Crockett</span>. Eleventh Edition.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>The Lilac Sunbonnet.</b> By S. R. <span class="smcap">Crockett</span>. Sixth Edition.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>The Raiders.</b> By S. R. <span class="smcap">Crockett</span>. Eighth Edition.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>The Grey Man.</b> By S. R. <span class="smcap">Crockett</span>.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>In a Man's Mind.</b> By J. R. <span class="smcap">Watson</span>.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>A Daughter of the Fen.</b> By J. T. <span class="smcap">Bealby</span>. Second Edition.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>The Herb-Moon.</b> By <span class="smcap">John Oliver Hobbes</span>. Third Edition.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>Nancy Noon.</b> By <span class="smcap">Benjamin Swift</span>. Second Edition. With New
+  Preface.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>Mr. Magnus.</b> By F. <span class="smcap">Reginald Statham</span>. Second Edition.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>Trooper Peter Halket of Mashonaland.</b> By <span class="smcap">Olive Schreiner</span>.
+ Frontispiece.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>Pacific Tales.</b> By <span class="smcap">Louis Becke</span>. With Frontispiece Portrait
+  of the Author. Second Edition.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>Mrs. Keith's Crime.</b> By Mrs. W. K. <span class="smcap">Clifford</span>. Sixth
+  Edition. With Portrait of Mrs. Keith by the <span class="smcap">Hon. John Collier</span>, and a
+  New Preface by the Author.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>Hugh Wynne.</b> By Dr. S. <span class="smcap">Weir Mitchell</span>. With Frontispiece
+  Illustration.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>The Tormentor.</b> By <span class="smcap">Benjamin Swift</span>, Author of &#8220;Nancy
+  Noon.&#8221;</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>Prisoners of Conscience.</b> By <span class="smcap">Amelia E. Barr</span>, Author of
+  &#8220;Jan Vedder's Wife.&#8221; With 12 Illustrations.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>The Gods, some Mortals and Lord Wickenham.</b> New Edition. By
+  <span class="smcap">John Oliver Hobbes</span>.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>The Outlaws of the Marches.</b> By <span class="smcap">Lord Ernest Hamilton</span>.
+  Fully illustrated.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>The School for Saints:</b> Part of the History of the Right
+  Honourable Robert Orange, M.P. By <span class="smcap">John Oliver Hobbes</span>, Author
+  of &#8220;Sinner's Comedy,&#8221; &#8220;Some Emotions and a Moral,&#8221; &#8220;The Herb Moon,&#8221;
+  &amp;c.</p>
+<p class="nospaceabove"><b>The People of Clopton.</b> By <span class="smcap">George Bartram</span>.</p>
+</div>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3> WORKS BY JOSEPH CONRAD</h3>
+<h3>I.</h3>
+<h2 class="nospaceabove">AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS</h2>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Crown 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>6s.</b></h3>
+
+<p>&#8220;Subject to the qualifications thus disposed of (<i>vide</i> first part of notice),
+&#8216;An Outcast of the Islands&#8217; is perhaps the finest piece of fiction that has been
+published this year, as &#8216;Almayer's Folly&#8217; was one of the finest that was published
+in 1895.... Surely this is real romance&mdash;the romance that is real.
+Space forbids anything but the merest recapitulation of the other living
+realities of Mr. Conrad's invention&mdash;of Lingard, of the inimitable Almayer,
+the one-eyed Babalatchi, the Naturalist, of the pious Abdulla&mdash;all novel, all
+authentic. Enough has been written to show Mr. Conrad's quality. He
+imagines his scenes and their sequence like a master; he knows his individualities
+and their hearts; he has a new and wonderful field in this East Indian
+Novel of his.... Greatness is deliberately written; the present writer has
+read and re-read his two books, and after putting this review aside for some
+days to consider the discretion of it, the word still stands.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Saturday Review</i></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h3>II.</h3>
+<h2 class="nospaceabove">ALMAYER'S FOLLY</h2>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>6s</b>.</h3>
+
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<p><b>&#8220;This startling, unique, splendid book.&#8221;</b>&mdash;Mr. T. P. <span class="smcap">O'Connor</span>, M.P.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is a decidedly powerful story of an uncommon type, and breaks fresh
+ground in fiction.... All the leading characters in the book&mdash;Almayer, his
+wife, his daughter, and Dain, the daughter's native lover&mdash;are well drawn, and
+the parting between father and daughter has a pathetic naturalness about it,
+unspoiled by straining after effect. There are, too, some admirably graphic
+passages in the book. The approach of a monsoon is most effectively
+described.... The name of Mr. Joseph Conrad is new to us, but it appears
+to us as if he might become the Kipling of the Malay Archipelago.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Spectator</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE EBBING OF THE TIDE</h2>
+<h3 class="byline nospaceabove">BY</h3>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">LOUIS BECKE</h3>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">Author of "By Reef and Palm"</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>6s.</b></h3>
+
+
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Louis Becke wields a powerful pen, with the additional advantage
+that he waves it in unfrequented places, and summons up with it the elemental
+passions of human nature.... It will be seen that Mr. Becke is somewhat
+of the fleshly school, but with a pathos and power not given to the ordinary
+professors of that school.... Altogether for those who like stirring stories
+cast in strange scenes, this is a book to be read.&#8221;&mdash;<i>National Observer.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2>PACIFIC TALES</h2>
+<h3 class="byline nospaceabove">BY</h3>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">LOUIS BECKE</h3>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">With a Portrait of the Author</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>6s.</b>
+</h3>
+
+<p>&#8220;The appearance of a new book by Mr. Becke has become an event of note&mdash;and
+very justly. No living author, if we except Mr. Kipling, has so amazing
+a command of that unhackneyed vitality of phrase that most people call by
+the name of realism. Whether it is scenery or character or incident that he
+wishes to depict, the touch is ever so dramatic and vivid that the reader is
+conscious of a picture and impression that has no parallel save in the records
+of actual sight and memory.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Westminster Gazette.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Another series of sketches of island life in the South Seas, not inferior to
+those contained in &#8216;By Reef and Palm.&#8217;&#8221;&mdash;<i>Speaker.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The book is well worth reading. The author knows what he is talking
+about and has a keen eye for the picturesque.&#8221;&mdash;<i>G. B. Burgin in To-day.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A notable contribution to the romance of the South Seas.&#8221;&mdash;T. P. <span class="smcap">O'Connor</span>, M.P., in <i>The Graphic</i>.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>PADDY'S WOMAN</h2>
+<h3 class="byline nospaceabove">BY</h3>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">HUMPHREY JAMES</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Crown 8vo.</i>, <b>6s.</b></h3>
+
+<p>&#8220;Traits of the Celt of humble circumstances are copied
+with keen appreciation and unsparing accuracy.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Scotsman.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220; ... They are full of indescribable charm and
+pathos.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Bradford Observer.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The outstanding merit of this series of stories is that
+they are absolutely true to life ... the photographic
+accuracy and minuteness displayed are really marvellous.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Aberdeen Free Press.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Paddy's Woman and Other Stories&#8217; by Humphrey
+James; a volume written in the familiar diction of the
+Ulster people themselves, with <b>perfect realism and very
+remarkable ability.... For genuine human nature
+and human relations, and humour of an indescribable
+kind, we are unable to cite a rival to this volume.</b>&#8221;&mdash;<i>The World.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For a fine subtle piece of humour we are inclined to
+think that &#8216;<b>A Glass of Whisky</b>&#8217; takes a lot of beating....
+In short Mr. Humphrey James has given us a delightful
+book, and one which does as much credit to his heart as to
+our head. We shall look forward with a keen anticipation
+to the next &#8216;writings&#8217; by this shrewd, &#8216;cliver,&#8217; and compassionate
+young author.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Bookselling.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>
+A FIRST FLEET FAMILY: BEING A HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED NARRATIVE OF
+CERTAIN REMARKABLE ADVENTURES COMPILED FROM THE PAPERS OF SERGEANT
+WILLIAM DEW, OF THE MARINES</h2>
+<h3 class = "byline nospaceabove"> BY</h3>
+<h3 class = "authorline nospaceabove"> LOUIS BECKE and WALTER JEFFERY</h3>
+<h3 class = "subhead nospaceabove"><i>Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>6s.</b></h3>
+
+<p>&#8220;As convincingly real and vivid as a narrative can
+be.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Sketch.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No maker of plots could work out a better story of its
+kind, nor balance it more neatly.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Daily Chronicle.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A book which describes a set of characters varied and
+so attractive as the more prominent figures in this romance,
+and a book so full of life, vicissitude, and peril, should be
+welcomed by every discreet novel reader.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Yorkshire Post.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A very interesting tale, written in clear and vigorous
+English.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Globe.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The novel is a happy blend of truth and fiction, with a
+purpose that will be appreciated by many readers; it has
+also the most exciting elements of the tale of adventure.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Morning Post.</i></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE TALES OF JOHN OLIVER HOBBES</h2>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">With a Frontispiece Portrait of the Author</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>6s.</b></h3>
+
+
+
+<p>&#8220;The cleverness of them all is extraordinary.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Guardian.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The volume proves how little and how great a thing it is to write a
+&#8216;Pseudonym.&#8217; Four whole &#8216;Pseudonyms&#8217; ... are easily contained
+within its not extravagant limits, and these four little books have given
+John Oliver Hobbes a recognized position as a master of epigram and
+narrative comedy.&#8221;&mdash;<i>St. James's Gazette.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As her star has been sudden in its rise so may it stay long with us!
+Some day she may give us something better than these tingling, pulsing,
+mocking, epigrammatic morsels.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Times.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There are several literary ladies, of recent origin, who have tried
+to come up to the society ideal; but John Oliver Hobbes is by far the
+best writer of them all, by far the most capable artist in fiction....
+She is clever enough for anything.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Saturday Review.</i></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2>THE HERB MOON</h2>
+<h3 class="byline nospaceabove">BY</h3>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">JOHN OLIVER HOBBES</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Third Edition, Crown 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>6s.</b></h3>
+
+<p>&#8220;The jaded reader who needs sauce for his literary appetite cannot
+do better than buy &#8216;The Herb Moon.&#8217;&#8221;&mdash;<i>Literary World.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A book to hail with more than common pleasure. The epigrammatic
+quality, the power of rapid analysis and brilliant presentation
+are there, and added to these a less definable quality, only to be
+described as charm.... &#8216;The Herb Moon&#8217; is as clever as most of
+its predecessors, and far less artificial.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Athenæum.</i></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE STICKIT MINISTER AND SOME COMMON MEN</h2>
+<h3 class="byline nospaceabove">BY</h3>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">S. R. CROCKETT</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Eleventh Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>6s.</b></h3>
+
+
+
+<p>&#8220;Here is one of the books which are at present coming singly and at long
+intervals, like early swallows, to herald, it is to be hoped, a larger flight.
+When the larger flight appears, the winter of our discontent will have passed,
+and we shall be able to boast that the short story can make a home east as
+well as west of the Atlantic. There is plenty of human nature&mdash;of the Scottish
+variety, which is a very good variety&mdash;in &#8216;The Stickit Minister&#8217; and its companion
+stories; plenty of humour, too, of that dry, pawky kind which is a
+monopoly of &#8216;Caledonia, stern and wild&#8217;; and, most plentiful of all, a quiet
+perception and reticent rendering of that underlying pathos of life which is to
+be discovered, not in Scotland alone, but everywhere that a man is found who
+can see with the heart and the imagination as well as the brain. Mr. Crockett
+has given us a book that is not merely good, it is what his countrymen would
+call &#8216;by-ordinar' good,&#8217; which, being interpreted into a tongue understanded of
+the southern herd, means that it is excellent, with a somewhat exceptional kind
+of excellence.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Daily Chronicle.</i></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+
+<h2>THE LILAC SUNBONNET</h2>
+<h3 class="byline nospaceabove">BY</h3>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">S. R. CROCKETT</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Sixth Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>6s.</b></h3>
+
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Crockett's &#8216;Lilac Sun-Bonnet&#8217; &#8216;needs no bush.&#8217; Here is a pretty love
+tale, and the landscape and rural descriptions carry the exile back into the
+Kingdom of Galloway. Here, indeed, is the scent of bog-myrtle and peat.
+After inquiries among the fair, I learn that of all romances, they best love
+not &#8216;sociology,&#8217; not &#8216;theology,&#8217; still less, open manslaughter, for a motive, but
+just love's young dream, chapter after chapter. From Mr. Crockett they get
+what they want, &#8216;hot with,&#8217; as Thackeray admits that he liked it.&#8221;&mdash;Mr.
+<span class="smcap">Andrew Lang</span> in <i>Longman's Magazine.</i></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE RAIDERS</h2>
+<h3 class="byline nospaceabove">BY</h3>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">S. R. CROCKETT</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Eighth Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>6s.</b></h3>
+
+
+<p>&#8220;A thoroughly enjoyable novel, full of fresh, original, and
+accurate pictures of life long gone by.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Daily News.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A strikingly realistic romance.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Morning Post.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A stirring story.... Mr. Crockett's style is charming. My
+Baronite never knew how musical and picturesque is Scottish-English
+till he read this book.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Punch.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The youngsters have their Stevenson, their Barrie, and now
+a third writer has entered the circle, S. R. Crockett, with a lively
+and jolly book of adventures, which the paterfamilias pretends
+to buy for his eldest son, but reads greedily himself and won't
+let go till he has turned over the last page.... Out of such
+historical elements and numberless local traditions the author
+has put together an exciting tale of adventures on land and sea.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Frankfurter
+Zeitung.</i></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 20%;" />
+
+<h3><i>SOME SCOTCH NOTICES.</i></h3>
+
+<p>&#8220;Galloway folk should be proud to rank &#8216;The Raiders&#8217; among
+the classics of the district.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Scotsman.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Crockett's &#8216;The Raiders&#8217; is one of the great literary
+successes of the season.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Dundee Advertiser.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Crockett has achieved the distinction of having produced
+the book of the season.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Dumfries and Galloway Standard.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The story told in it is, as a story, nearly perfect.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Aberdeen
+Daily Free Press.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;The Raiders&#8217; is one of the most brilliant efforts of recent
+fiction.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Kirkcudbrightshire Advertiser.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE GREY MAN</h2>
+<h3 class="byline nospaceabove">BY</h3>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">S. R. CROCKETT</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Crown 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>6s.</b></h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove">
+<i>Also, an Edition de Luxe, with 26 Drawings by
+<span class="smcap">Seymour Lucas, R.A.</span>, limited to 250 copies, signed
+by Author. Crown 4to., cloth gilt</i>, <b>21s.</b> <i>net.</i>
+</h3>
+
+
+<p>&#8220;It has nearly all the qualities which go to make a book
+of the first-class. Before you have read twenty pages you
+know that you are reading a classic.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Literary World.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All of that vast and increasing host of readers who
+prefer the novel of action to any other form of fiction
+should, nay, indeed, must, make a point of reading this
+exceedingly fine example of its class.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Daily Chronicle.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;With such passages as these [referring to quotations],
+glowing with tender passion, or murky with horror,
+even the most insatiate lover of romance may feel that
+Mr. Crockett has given him good measure, well pressed
+down and running over.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Daily Telegraph.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A DAUGHTER OF THE FEN</h2>
+<h3 class="byline nospaceabove">BY</h3>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">J. T. BEALBY</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>6s.</b></h3>
+
+
+<p>&#8220;It will deserve notice at the hands of such as are interested in the
+ways and manner of living of a curious race that has ceased to be.&#8221;
+<i>Daily Chronicle.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For a first book &#8216;A Daughter of the Fen&#8217; is full of promise.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Academy.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This book deserves to be read for its extremely interesting account of
+life in the Fens and for its splendid character study of Mme. Dykereave.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Star.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Deserves high praise.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Scotsman.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is an able, interesting ... an exciting book, and is well worth
+reading. And when once taken up it will be difficult to lay it down.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Westminster
+Gazette.</i></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+
+
+<h2>IN A MAN'S MIND</h2>
+<h3 class="byline nospaceabove">BY</h3>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">JOHN REAY WATSON</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Crown 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>6s.</b></h3>
+
+
+<p>&#8220;We regard the book as well worth the effort of reading.&#8221;&mdash;<i>British
+Review.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The book is clever, very clever.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Dundee Advertiser.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The power and pathos of the book are undeniable.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Liverpool Post.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is a book of some promise.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Newsagent.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Watson has hardly a rival among Australian writers, past or
+present. There is real power in the book&mdash;power of insight, power of
+reflection, power of analysis, power of presentation.... 'Tis a very
+well made book&mdash;not a set of independent episodes strung on the
+thread of a name or two, but closely interwoven to the climax.&#8221;&mdash;
+<i>Sydney Bulletin.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is behind it all a power of drawing human nature that in
+time arrests the attention.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Athenæum.</i></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2>NANCY NOON</h2>
+<h3 class="byline nospaceabove">BY</h3>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">BENJAMIN SWIFT</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Second Edition. Cloth</i>, <b>6s.</b></h3>
+
+<h3>Some Reviews on the First Edition.</h3>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Nancy Noon&#8217; is perhaps the strongest book of the year, certainly by far
+the strongest book which has been published by any new writer.... Mr.
+Swift contrives to keep his book from end to end real, passionate, even intense....
+If Mr. Meredith had never written, one would have predicted, with the
+utmost confidence, a great future for Mr. Benjamin Swift, and even as it is I
+have hopes.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Sketch.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Certainly a promising first effort&#8221;&mdash;<i>Whitehall Review.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If &#8216;Nancy Noon&#8217; be Mr. Swift's first book, it is a success of an uncommon
+kind.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Dundee Advertiser.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Nancy Noon&#8217; is one of the most remarkable novels of the year, and the
+author, avowedly a beginner, has succeeded in gaining a high position in the
+ranks of contemporary writers.... All his characters are delightful. In the
+heat of sensational incidents or droll scenes we stumble on observations that
+set us reflecting, and but for an occasional roughness of style&mdash;elliptical,
+Carlyle mannerisms&mdash;the whole is admirably written.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Westminster Gazette.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Swift has the creative touch and a spark of genius.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Manchester
+Guardian.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Swift has held us interested from the first to the last page of his
+novel.&#8221;&mdash;<i>World.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The writer of &#8216;Nancy Noon&#8217; has succeeded in presenting a powerfully
+written and thoroughly interesting story.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Scotsman.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We are bound to admit that the story interested us all through, that it
+absorbed us towards the end, and that not until the last page had been read
+did we find it possible to lay the book down.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Daily Chronicle.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is a very strong book, very vividly coloured, very fascinating in its style,
+very compelling in its claim on the attention, and not at all likely to be soon
+forgotten.&#8221;&mdash;<i>British Weekly.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A clever book ... The situations and ensuing complications are dramatic,
+and are handled with originality and daring throughout.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Daily News.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Benjamin Swift has written a vastly entertaining book.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Academy.</i></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>MR. MAGNUS</h2>
+<h3 class="byline nospaceabove">BY</h3>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">F. REGINALD STATHAM</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>6s.</b></h3>
+
+<p><b>Some Press Opinions on the First Edition.</b></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One of the most powerful and vividly written novels of the
+day.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Nottingham Guardian.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A grim, terrible, and convincing picture.&#8221;&mdash;<i>New Age.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very impressive.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Saturday Review.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Distinctly readable.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Speaker.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A remarkable book.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Standard.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Full of incident.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Liverpool Mercury.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One of the most important and timely books ever written.&#8221;
+<i>Newcastle Daily Mercury.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A vivid and stirring narrative.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Globe.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An exceedingly clever and remarkable production.&#8221;&mdash;<i>World.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A book to be read.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Newsagent.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A terrible picture.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Sheffield Independent.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One of the best stories lately published.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Echo.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Worth reading.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Guardian.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A sprightly book.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Punch.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The story is very much brought up to date.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Times.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Vivid and convincing.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Daily Chronicle.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The story is good and well told.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ought to be immensely popular.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Reynolds' Weekly Newspaper.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A most readable story.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Glasgow Herald.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A brilliant piece of work.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Daily Telegraph.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The story should make its mark.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Bookseller.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Admirably written.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Sheffield Daily Telegraph.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The more widely it is read the better.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Manchester Guardian.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will find many appreciative readers.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Aberdeen Free Press.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Exciting reading.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Daily Mail.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can be heartily recommended.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Lloyd's Weekly Newspaper.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A well-written and capable story.&#8221;&mdash;<i>People.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well written.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Literary World.</i></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>MRS. KEITH'S CRIME</h2>
+<h3 class="byline nospaceabove">BY</h3>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">MRS W. K. CLIFFORD</h3>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">With a Portrait of Mrs. Keith by the Hon. John Collier.</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Sixth Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>6s.</b></h3>
+
+
+<p>&#8220;Is certainly the strongest book that Mrs. W. K.
+Clifford has given to the public. It is probably too the
+most popular.&#8221;&mdash;<i>World.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is charmingly told.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Literary World.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A novel of extraordinary dramatic force, and it will
+doubtless be widely read in its present very cheap and
+attractive form.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Star.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mrs. Clifford's remarkable tale.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Athenæum.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will prove a healthy tonic to readers who have
+recently been taking a course of shilling shocker mental
+medicine.... There are many beautiful womanly
+touches throughout the pages of this interesting volume,
+and it can be safely recommended to readers old and
+young.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Aberdeen Free Press.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>MASTERS OF MEDICINE</h2>
+<h3 class="byline nospaceabove">EDITED BY</h3>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">ERNEST HART, D.C.L.,</h3>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">Editor of &#8220;The British Medical Journal&#8221;</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Large crown 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>3s. 6d.</b> <i>each</i>.</h3>
+
+<blockquote><p>Medical discoveries more directly concern the well-being and happiness of the human
+race than any victories of science. They appeal to one of the primary instincts of human
+nature, that of self-preservation. The importance of health as the most valuable of
+our national assets is coming to be more and more recognised, and the place of the doctor
+in Society and in the State is becoming one of steadily increasing prominence; indeed,
+Mr. Gladstone said not many years ago that the time would surely come when the medical
+profession would take precedence of all the others in authority as well as in dignity. The
+development of medicine from an empiric art to an exact science is one of the most
+important and also one of the most interesting chapters in the history of civilisation. The
+histories of medicine which exist are for the most part only fitted for the intellectual
+digestion of Dryasdust and his congeners. Of the men who made the discoveries which
+have saved incalculable numbers of human lives, and which have lengthened the span of
+human existence, there is often no record at all accessible to the general reader. Yet the
+story of these men's lives, of their struggles and of their triumphs, is not only interesting,
+but in the highest degree stimulating and educative. Many of them could have said with
+literal truth what Sir Thomas Browne said figuratively, that their lives were a romance.
+Hitherto there have been no accounts of the lives of medical discoverers in a form at once
+convenient and uniform, and sold at a popular price. The &#8220;Masters of Medicine&#8221; is a
+series of biographies written by &#8220;eminent hands&#8221; intended to supply this want. It is
+intended that the man shall be depicted as he moved and lived and had his being, and that
+the scope and gist of his work, as well as the steps by which he reached his results, shall
+be set forth in a clear, readable style.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The following is a condensed list of some of the earlier volumes.&mdash;</p>
+
+<table>
+<tr><th>AUTHOR.</th><th>TITLE.</th></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Stephen Paget</span>              </td><td><i>John Hunter</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">D'Arcy Power</span>               </td><td><i>William Harvey</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">H. Laing Gordon</span>                    </td><td><i>Sir James Simpson</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">John G. McKendrick</span>                 </td><td><i>Hermann von Helmholtz</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Sir William Stokes</span>                 </td><td><i>William Stokes</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Michael Foster</span>                     </td><td><i>Claude Bernard</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Timothy Holmes</span>                     </td><td><i>Sir Benjamin Brodie</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">J. F. Payne</span>                        </td><td><i>Thomas Sydenham</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">C. L. Taylor</span>                       </td><td><i>Vesalius</i></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h3 class="authorline">WORKS BY MARTIN A. S. HUME</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove">
+F.R.H.S., Editor of the &#8220;Calendar of Spanish State Papers of Elizabeth&#8221;
+(Public Record Office).</h3>
+<h2>THE COURTSHIPS OF QUEEN ELIZABETH</h2>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">With Portraits</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Fourth Edition. Large crown 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>6s.</b></h3>
+
+
+<p>&#8220;It is undeniably an important addition to the history of the Elizabethan period, and
+it will rank as the foremost authority on the most interesting aspect of the character of
+the Tudor Queen.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A clear and very interesting account. An excellent book.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Times.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A connected and consistent, though assuredly a most extraordinary, story.... A
+fascinating picture.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Standard.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A delightful book.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Daily Telegraph.</i></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+
+<h2>THE YEAR AFTER THE ARMADA<br/>
+<span class="authorline">AND OTHER HISTORICAL STUDIES</span></h2>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Second Edition. Illustrated. Demy 8vo., cloth gilt</i>, <b>12s.</b></h3>
+
+
+<p>&#8220;A most valuable and conscientiously written historical work.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Spectator.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The whole book is extremely interesting, and at once instructive and amusing.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Speaker.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Deserves a wide circulation, and we trust that a proper reward will follow close
+upon its merits.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Literary World.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Major Hume has thrown the most curious and valuable light on the Armada period.
+Full of delightful sketches of men and things.&#8221;&mdash;W. L. <span class="smcap">Courtney</span> in <i>The Daily
+Telegraph</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A work which adds many a fresh page to English, and one may say to European
+history.... From first to last the volume is excellent reading, while the entertaining
+style in which the matter is presented and the undeniable authority of the
+writer ... render the book of special interest and permanent value.&#8221;&mdash;<i>The Morning
+Post.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Quite as good as a novel&mdash;and a good deal better, too. The book is so bright and
+vivid that readers with the common dislike of history may venture on its pages
+unafraid.&#8221;&mdash;<span class="smcap">Andrew Lang</span> in <i>Cosmopolis</i>.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+
+<h2>SIR WALTER RALEGH</h2>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove">
+Being Vol. I. of the series entitled &#8220;Builders of Greater
+Britain,&#8221; each vol. with photogravure frontispiece and map.</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Large crown 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>5s.</b> <i>each</i>.</h3>
+
+
+<p>&#8220;There is not a dull page in it, and, with his skilful telling of it, the story of Raleigh's
+life and of his times reads like a romance.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3 class="authorline">SOME WORKS BY REV. E. J. HARDY</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>&#8220;The Murray of Matrimony, the Baedeker of Bliss.&#8221;</i></h3>
+
+
+<h2>HOW TO BE HAPPY THOUGH MARRIED</h2>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Popular Edition, gilt edges, cloth, bevelled boards</i>, <b>3s. 6d.</b></h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Presentation Edition, white vellum, cloth, bevelled boards, gilt
+edges, in box</i>, <b>7s. 6d.</b></h3>
+
+
+<p>&#8220;An entertaining volume ... The new guide to matrimonial felicity.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Standard.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This charming volume ... Wit and wisdom abound in its pages; as for the
+good stories, they are almost too plentiful.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Spectator.</i></p>
+
+<h3 class="subhead" style="margin-top: 1.5em;"><i>Uniform in style and prices with the foregoing.</i></h3>
+
+<h2 style="margin-top: -0.4em;">
+THE FIVE TALENTS OF WOMAN</h2>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">
+A Book for Girls and Young Women</h3>
+
+
+
+<h2>
+THE BUSINESS OF LIFE</h2>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">A Book for Everyone</h3>
+
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Square imperial 16mo., cloth</i>, <b>3s. 6d.</b>&mdash;<i>Presentation Edition,
+bevelled boards, gilt edges, in box</i>, <b>7s. 6d.</b></h3>
+
+
+<p>&#8220;Calculated to teach the art of happiness and contentment as well as mere exhortation
+can teach it.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Times.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pleasant as well as profitable reading.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Literary World.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A host of social subjects are treated in a way at once wise and witty, and in a
+manner as delightful to read as they are pleasantly 'improving.'&#8221;&mdash;<i>Daily Telegraph.</i></p>
+
+
+<h2>THE SUNNY DAYS OF YOUTH</h2>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">A Book for Boys and Young Men</h3>
+
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Square Imperial 16mo., cloth</i>, <b>3s. 6d.</b>&mdash;<i>Presentation Edition,
+elegantly bound, bevelled boards, gilt edges</i>, <b>7s. 6d.</b></h3>
+
+
+<p>&#8220;It is an excellent book for a serious-minded boy.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Scotsman.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The pleasantest reading possible ... this useful little book.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Educational Review.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As well written as it is unquestionably well-intentioned.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Leeds Mercury.</i></p>
+
+
+<h2>FAINT YET PURSUING</h2>
+
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Square Imperial 16mo. Popular Edition. Crown 8vo.,
+cloth</i>, <b>3s. 6d.</b></h3>
+
+
+<p>&#8220;Will meet with an extensive recognition.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Morning Post.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Short and sensible ... they form fresh and breezy reading.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Glasgow Herald.</i></p>
+
+
+<h2>&#8220;MANNERS MAKYTH MAN&#8221;</h2>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Presentation Edition, imperial 16mo., cloth, bevelled boards,
+in box</i>, <b>7s. 6d.</b>; <i>cloth</i>, <b>6s.</b>&mdash;<i>Popular Edition,
+small square 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>3s. 6d.</b></h3>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good-natured, wholesome, and straightforward.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Saturday Review.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A really delightful volume, well adapted for family reading.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Christian World.</i></p>
+
+
+<h2>THE LOVE AFFAIRS OF SOME FAMOUS MEN</h2>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Imperial 16mo., cloth</i>, <b>3s. 6d.</b></h3>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3 class="authorline">WORKS BY PROF. PASQUALE VILLARI</h3>
+
+
+<h2>
+THE LIFE AND TIMES OF GIROLAMO SAVONAROLA</h2>
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">Translated by LINDA VILLARI</h3>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove">
+<i>New and Cheaper Edition in one volume. Fully Illustrated.
+Cloth, large crown</i>, <b>7s. 6d.</b></h3>
+
+
+<p>&#8220;No more interesting book has been issued during the present season.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The most interesting religious biography that we know of in modern times.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Spectator.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A book which is not likely to be forgotten.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Athenæum.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By far the best book on Savonarola available for English readers.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Standard.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is perhaps <i>the</i> book of the publishing season.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Star.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sincere, complete, and, upon the whole, well-balanced and candid.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Yorkshire Post.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A work of very great value.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Scotsman.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No more graphic view of the ecclesiastical and social life of ancient Italy has been
+opened up for us than this of Linda Villari.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Morning Leader.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As complete and trustworthy as care, judgment, and the fullest investigation can
+make it.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Dundee Advertiser.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A credit to the publisher.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Independent.</i></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2>THE LIFE AND TIMES OF NICCOLÒ MACHIAVELLI</h2>
+
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>New and Cheaper Edition. Fully Illustrated. Large crown 8vo.,
+cloth</i>, <b>7s. 6d.</b></h3>
+
+
+<p>&#8220;Indispensable to the serious student of Machiavelli, his teaching and his times.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Times.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The fullest and most authoritative history of Machiavelli and his times ever given
+to the British public.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Glasgow Herald.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;May be regarded as an authority on the times of which it treats.... The book is
+enriched with rare and interesting illustrations, and with some valuable historical
+documents.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Daily Telegraph.</i></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+
+
+<h3 class="authorline nospaceabove">BY FRANK HORRIDGE</h3>
+<h2>LIVES OF GREAT ITALIANS</h2>
+<h3 class="subhead nospaceabove"><i>Illustrated. Large crown 8vo., cloth</i>, <b>7s. 6d.</b></h3>
+
+
+<h3><b>Opinions of the Press.</b></h3>
+
+<p>&#8220;A poetical, romantic, and charmingly written book, which will be popular with all
+who love their Italy.&#8221;&mdash;<span class="smcap">Douglas Sladen</span> in <i>Literary World</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Able, eloquent, and interesting.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Queen.</i>
+.pf h end</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<div class="trnote">
+<h3>Transcriber's notes:</h3>
+<ul>
+<li>Inconsistency in hyphenation is as in the original.</li>
+<li>Three short footnotes have been moved into the main text, rendered in [] and in italics.</li>
+<li>The layout of the advertising material has been standardised somewhat, and dashes inserted consistently
+between reviews and their source. (In most but not all cases, a dash was present if the
+source was on the same line, but not if on a different line. This distinction is impossible
+to preserve in an e-text.)</li>
+<li>Two misprinted accents on the French have been moved onto the correct letter.</li>
+<li>Page 161: the first word on the page has been changed from "or" to "for" (there is a gap, and this best
+fits the context).</li>
+<li>Page 195: the name "Bevensey" has been changed to "Pevensey" to match other occurrences
+in the book.</li>
+<li>Page 201, first full paragraph: The comma after "masters" is possibly incorrect (a period or semi-colon would
+be more grammatically correct) but the original has been retained.</li>
+<li>Page 354: in the paragraph beginning "In that event", a colon after said has been changed to a
+semi-colon, in accordance with normal practice and all other occurrences in the book.</li>
+<li>Page 376: a reference to "De Hausée" has been changed to "de Hausée" to match every other occurrence.</li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Robert Orange, by John Oliver Hobbes
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Robert Orange, by John Oliver Hobbes
+
+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: Robert Orange
+       Being a Continuation of the History of Robert Orange
+
+Author: John Oliver Hobbes
+
+Release Date: February 4, 2009 [EBook #27997]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBERT ORANGE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Colin Bell and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ROBERT ORANGE
+
+BEING A CONTINUATION OF THE HISTORY OF ROBERT ORANGE, M.P.
+
+AND A SEQUEL TO THE SCHOOL FOR SAINTS
+
+By
+
+John Oliver Hobbes
+
+
+LONDON: T. FISHER UNWIN
+
+PATERNOSTER SQUARE. MDCCCC
+
+(All rights reserved)
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+One afternoon during the first weeks of October, 1869, while wind, dust,
+and rain were struggling each for supremacy in the streets, a small
+yellow brougham, swung in the old-fashioned style on cumbersome springs
+and attached to a pair of fine greys, was standing before the Earl of
+Garrow's town residence in St. James's Square. The hall clock within
+that mansion chimed four, the great doors were thrown open by two
+footmen, and a young lady wearing a mauve silk skirt deeply flounced, a
+black cloth jacket embroidered in gold, and a mauve hat trimmed with
+plumes--appeared upon the threshold. She paused for a moment to admire
+the shrubs arranged in boxes on each window-sill, the crimson vines that
+brightened the grey walls; to criticise the fresh brown rosette under
+the near horse's ear; to bestow a swift glance upon the harness, the
+coachman's livery, and the groom's boots. Then she stepped into the
+carriage and gave her order--
+
+"To the Carlton Club."
+
+The groom climbed on to his seat, and the horses, after a brilliant
+display of their well-disciplined mettle, suffered themselves to be
+driven, at an easy pace, toward Pall Mall.
+
+Lady Sara-Louise-Tatiana-Valerie De Treverell, only child of the ninth
+Earl of Garrow, had been, since her mother's death, the mistress of his
+house and his chief companion. Essentially a woman of emotions, she was,
+nevertheless, in appearance somewhat dreamy, romantic, even spiritual.
+The eyes were blue, bright as a cut sapphire, and shone, as it were,
+through tears. Her mouth, uneven in its line, had a scarlet eloquence
+more pleasing than sculpturesque severity. At the moment, she wore no
+gloves, and her tapering fingers shared their characteristic with her
+nose, which also tapered, with exquisite lightness of mould, into a
+point. For colour, she had a gypsy's red and brown. The string of gold
+beads which she fastened habitually round her throat showed well against
+the warm tints in her cheek; her long pearl earrings caught in certain
+lights the dark shadow of her hair--hair black, abundant, and
+elaborately dressed in the fashion of that time. Passionate yet
+calculating, imperious yet susceptible of control, generous yet given to
+suspicion, an egoist yet capable of self-abandoning enthusiasm--she
+represented a type of feminine character often recognised but rarely
+understood.
+
+On this particular afternoon in October she had some pressing matters on
+her mind. She was considering, among other things, an offer of marriage
+which she had received by post two days before from a nobleman of great
+fortune, the Duke of Marshire. But Sara was ambitious--not mercenary.
+She wanted power. Power, unhappily, was the last thing one could
+associate with the estimable personality of the suitor under
+deliberation.
+
+"I must tell papa," she said to herself, "that it would never do."
+
+Here she fell into a reverie; but as her expression changed from one of
+annoyance to something of wistfulness and sentimentality, the question
+of marriage with the Duke of Marshire had clearly been dismissed for
+that moment from her heart. At intervals a shy smile gave an almost
+childish tenderness to her face. Then, on a sudden, her eyelashes would
+droop, she would start with a sigh, and, apparently caught by some
+unwelcome remembrance, sink into a humour as melancholy as it was
+mysterious. Quiet she sat, absorbed in her own emotions, heedless alike
+of the streets through which she was passing and the many acquaintances
+who bowed as she drove by. It was her daily custom, when in town, to
+call at the Carlton Club for her father and take him for a short drive
+round the Park before his tea. To-day he was already waiting on the club
+steps as the brougham halted before the entrance. He smiled, joined Lady
+Sara at once, and seating himself by her side in his usual corner,
+maintained his usual imperturbable reserve. As a rule, during these
+excursions he would either doze, or jot down ideas in his note-book, or
+hum one of the few songs he cared to hear: "Go tell Augusta, gentle
+swain," "Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries," and "She wore a wreath of
+roses." This time, however, he did neither of these things, but watched
+the reflection of his daughter's face in the carriage window before him.
+He had white hair, a dyed moustache and a small imperial--also dyed the
+deepest black--just under the lower lip. In appearance he was, spite of
+the false touches, good-looking, sensitive, and perhaps too mild. The
+cleft in his rounded chin was the sole mark of decision in a countenance
+whose features were curved--wherever a curve was possible--to a degree
+approaching caricature. Temples, eyebrows, nostrils, and moustache, all
+described a series of semi-circles which, accentuated by a livid
+complexion and curling hair, presented an effect somewhat commonplace
+and a little tiresome. He had spent his existence among beings to whom
+nothing seemed natural which did not depart most earnestly from all that
+nature is and teaches: he had always endeavoured to maintain the ideal
+of a Christian gentleman where, as a matter of fact, Christianity was
+understood rather as a good manner than a faith, and ideals were
+prejudices of race rather than aspirations of the soul. Well-born,
+well-bred, and moderately learned, he was not, and could never be, more
+than dull or less than dignified. The second son of his father, he had
+spent the customary years of idleness at Eton and Oxford, he had
+journeyed through France, Italy, and Spain, contested unsuccessfully a
+seat in Mertford, and thought of reading for the Bar. But at
+four-and-thirty he became, through the influence of his mother's family,
+groom-in-waiting to the Queen--a post which he held till his elder
+brother's death, which occurred six months later. At this point his
+Court career ceased. A weak heart and a constitutional dislike of
+responsibility assisted him in his firm decision to lead the life of a
+country nobleman. He retired to his estate, and remained there in
+solitude, troubling no one except his agent, till a Russian lady, whom
+he had first met and loved during his early travels on the Continent,
+happened to come visiting in the neighbourhood. As the daughter of a
+Russian Prince and Ambassador, she had considered her rank superior to
+Lord Garrow's, and therefore felt justified, as she informed her
+relations after he had succeeded to the earldom, in making the first
+advance toward their common happiness. The marriage was soon arranged;
+the alliance proved successful if not always serene; one
+child--Sara-Louise-Tatiana-Valerie--was born, an event which was
+followed, nine days later, by the death of the Countess.
+
+Lord Garrow, a man of refined ideas rather than profound feelings,
+displayed in mourning his wife's loss the same gentle, dispassionate,
+and courteous persistency with which he had remained constant to his
+first impression of her charms. She had been a beautiful, high-hearted
+girl; she became a fascinating but wayward woman; she died a creature
+of such mingled ferocity and sentiment that, had she not perished when
+she did, she must have existed in misery under the storms of her own
+temperament. As Garrow watched his daughter's face, he may have been
+touched to a deeper chord than usual at the sight of her strange and
+growing resemblance to his dead Tatiana. Did she too possess--as her
+mother had possessed--the sweet but calamitous gift of loving? He
+himself had not been the object of his wife's supreme devotion. Before
+the child's birth she had given him an emerald ring which, she declared,
+was all that she valued on earth. It was no gift of his; it had belonged
+to a young attache to her father's embassy. Affection had taught Lord
+Garrow something; he asked no questions; the jewel was placed, by his
+orders, on her dead hand; it was buried with her, and with that burial
+he included any jealousy of her early romance. He had been sincerely,
+wholly attached to her; he had been proud of her graces and
+accomplishments; he knew her virtue and honoured her pure mind; she was
+the one woman he had ever wished to marry. He did not regret, nay, it
+was impossible to regret, their marriage. But she had been ever an alien
+and a stranger. Each had too often considered the other's heart with
+surprise. True love must rest on a perfect understanding; at the first
+lifting of the eyes in wonder there is a jar which by and by must make
+the whole emotion restless. An unconquerable curiosity lay at the very
+root of their lives. She thought him English and self-sufficient; he
+thought her foreign and a little superstitious. This ineffable criticism
+was constant, fretful, and ever nearing the climax of uttered reproach.
+Sara had inherited all the amazement, but she owned, as well, its
+comprehension. She adored passionately the mother she had never seen;
+she loved her father, whom she knew by heart. After exchanging an
+affectionate glance with his lordship, she began to draw on her gloves.
+Whilst buttoning one she said--
+
+"Have you seen him?"
+
+"No," he replied; "but, in any case, I think he would have avoided me
+to-day."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"From motives of delicacy. Henry Marshire is a man of the nicest
+feeling. He is never guilty of the least mistake."
+
+Sara smiled, and so disguised a blush.
+
+"I did not mean Marshire," she said. "I was thinking then of Robert
+Orange."
+
+"Robert Orange," exclaimed Lord Garrow in astonishment.
+
+"Yes, dear papa. Is he not sometimes at the Carlton with Lord Wight? He
+seems to me a coming man; and so good-looking. We must really ask him to
+dinner."
+
+Some minutes elapsed before the Earl could utter any comment on a
+suggestion so surprising, and at that particular moment so
+inconsequent. Was his daughter not weighing--with prayer, he hoped, and
+certainly with all her senses--the prospect of an alliance with the Duke
+of Marshire? How, then, could she pause in a meditation of such vital
+interest to make capricious remarks about a mere acquaintance?
+
+"Does Marshire know him?" he asked at last.
+
+"I hope so. He is a remarkable person. But the party is blind."
+
+"My dear, the English are an aristocratic people. They do not forgive
+mysterious blood and ungentle origins. While we have our Howards, our
+Talbots, and our Poulets--to say nothing of the De Courcys and
+Cliftons--it would surely seem excessively absurd to endure the
+intrusion of French _emigres_ into our midst."
+
+"How I hate the great world!" exclaimed Sara, with vehemence; "how I
+dislike the class which ambition, wealth, and pride separate from the
+rest of humanity! My only happiness now is found in solitude."
+
+"Your mother, dear Sara, had--or fancied so--this same desire to shun
+companionship and be alone. Her delicate health after our marriage made
+her fear society."
+
+"There are days when it seems an arena of wild beasts!"
+
+"Nevertheless, my darling, at your age you must learn to live among your
+fellow creatures."
+
+"How can I live where I should be afraid to die?"
+
+"Ought you to give way to these moods? Is it not mistaking the
+imagination for the soul? Young people do this, and you are very
+young--but two-and-twenty."
+
+"I am double-hearted," said Sara; "and when one is double-hearted the
+tongue must utter contradictions. I like my advantages while I despise
+them. I wish to be thought exclusive, yet I condemn the pettiness of my
+ambition. And so on."
+
+"I fear," said Lord Garrow gravely, "that your mind is disturbed by a
+question which you must soon--very soon, my dearest child--answer."
+
+"Papa, I cannot."
+
+"Surely you will gratify me so far as to take time before you object to
+what might possibly be most desirable."
+
+"It may be desirable enough, but is it right?"
+
+"Right," repeated her father, with exasperation. "How could it be
+otherwise than right to marry a man of Marshire's position, means,
+stamp, and general fitness? You would be in possession of a station
+where your interest would be as independent as your spirit. Nothing
+could have been more brilliant, or flattering, or more cordial than his
+offer. I argue against my natural selfishness for your welfare. I don't
+wish to part with you, but I must consider your future."
+
+He spoke with energy, and Sara knew, from the length and substance of
+the speech, that the subject had been for some time very near his heart.
+She resolved, on the instant, not to fail him; but as she foresaw his
+crowning satisfaction, she permitted herself the luxury of prolonging
+his suspense.
+
+"I do not love him," said she.
+
+"In marriage one does not require an unconquerable love but an
+invincible sympathy."
+
+"An invincible sympathy!" she exclaimed. "I have had that for certain
+friends--for one or two, at any rate. For Robert Orange, as an example."
+
+"That man again? Why do you dwell upon him?"
+
+"He is interesting, he has force, and, as for origin, do people ever
+repeat pleasant facts about a neighbour's pedigree? I believe that his
+family is every bit as good as ours. His second name is de Hausee. No
+one can pretend that we are even so good as a genuine de Hausee. We may
+make ourselves ridiculous!"
+
+"Let me entreat you to guard against these inequalities in your
+character. To-day I could even accuse you of levity. Dearest Sara,
+Marshire is hardly the man to be kept waiting for his reply."
+
+"I am not well," said Sara, almost in tears. "There are hours when I
+would not give my especial blessings for any other earthly happiness,
+and then, a moment after, the things which pleased me most become
+vexations, all but intolerable!"
+
+"How little importance, then, should we attach to our caprices, when we
+know, by experience, how short is the pleasure and displeasure they can
+give," was the careful reply.
+
+"Caprices!" said Sara, "yes, you are right. My mind gets weary,
+disgusted, and dismayed. But the soul is never bored--never tired. Poor
+prisoner! It has so few opportunities."
+
+She sighed deeply, and her father saw, with distress, the approach of a
+sentimental mood which he deplored as un-English, and feared as
+unmanageable.
+
+"What is this languor, this inability to rouse myself, to feel the least
+interest in things or people?" she continued. "I am not ill, and yet I
+have scarcely the strength to regret my lassitude."
+
+"What does it mean?"
+
+He put his hand upon her jacket sleeve.
+
+"Is this warm enough?" he said. "The autumn is treacherous. You are
+careful, I hope."
+
+She glanced out of the window and up at the clouds which, grey, heavy,
+and impenetrable, moved, darkening all things as they went across the
+sky.
+
+"I wish it would rain! I like to be out when it rains!"
+
+"A strange fancy," said her father, "but tastes, even odd ones, give a
+charm to life, whereas passions--" he put some stress upon the word and
+repeated it, "passions destroy it."
+
+"Marshire, at any rate, does not seem to possess either!"
+
+"Well, a man must begin at some point, and, at some point, he must
+change. He admires and respects you, my darling, so we may hardly
+quarrel with his judgment."
+
+Sara shrugged her shoulders and turned her glance away from the few
+carriages filled with invalids or elderly women which were still
+lingering in the Row.
+
+"Some people," said she, "are driven by their passions, others, the
+smaller number, by their virtues. Marshire has asked me to marry him
+because it is his duty to choose a wife from his own circle. I have no
+illusions in the matter. Nor, I fancy, has he. We have talked, of
+course, of love and Platonism till both love and Platonism became a
+weariness!"
+
+"Very far indeed am I from thinking you just. I have had an extremely
+kind note from the Duchess."
+
+"An old tyrant! She wants a daughter-in-law who will play piquet with
+her in the evenings, and feed her peacocks in the morning. She is tired
+of poor Miss Wilmington. An old tyrant!"
+
+"She hopes to hear soon when the marriage is to take place. I wish I
+could tell her the day. I do so long to have it fixed."
+
+"Dear papa," she said, with a charming smile, "you are anxious, I see,
+to be rid of me. I will write to him to-night."
+
+"And to what effect?"
+
+"The wisest."
+
+"That means the happiest, too?" he asked with anxiety.
+
+"For you and him, I hope. As for me--am I a woman who could, by any
+chance, be both happy and wise at the same moment?"
+
+Her existence was very solitary. The flippancy of the lives around her,
+the inanity of her relatives' pursuits, their heedlessness of those
+inner qualities which make the real--indeed, the only considerable
+difference between man and man, could but fret, and mortify, and abash a
+heart which, in the absence of any religious faith, had, at any rate,
+the need of it. Her father, who entertained clear views of "the right
+thing" and "the wrong thing" in social ethics, was still too rigid a
+formalist in the exposition of his theories to reach an intelligence
+with whom the desire of virtues would have to come as a
+passion--inspiring and inspired or else be utterly repudiated.
+Utilitarianism, and the greatest happiness of the greatest number,
+comfortable domestic axioms, little schemes for the elevation of the
+masses by the classes, had, on their logical basis, no attraction for
+this sceptical, wayward girl. To be merely useful was, in her eyes, to
+make oneself meddlesome and absurd. The object of existence was to be
+heroic or nothing. She could imagine herself a Poor Clare: she could not
+imagine herself as a great young lady dividing her hours judiciously
+between district visiting and the ball-room, between the conquest of
+eligible bachelors and the salvation of vulgar souls. Marshire, she
+knew, had sisters and cousins who did these things and were considered
+patterns. No wonder then that she turned pale and became fretful at the
+prospect of her views clashing inevitably with his.
+
+"I cannot be wise and happy at the same moment," she repeated.
+
+At that instant the carriage, which was then rolling toward Hyde Park
+Corner, came to an abrupt standstill, and, on looking out, Lord Garrow
+observed that the coachman had halted in obedience to a signal from a
+gentleman who was galloping, at a hard pace, after their brougham.
+
+"It must be Reckage," said the Earl; "I never knew a man so fond of
+riding who rode so ill."
+
+"What, I wonder, does he want now?" said Sara, flushing a little. "I
+didn't know that he was in town."
+
+By that time the pursuer, a handsome man with an auburn beard and very
+fine blue eyes, had reached them.
+
+"This," he shouted, "is a rushing beast of a horse;" but, before he
+could explain his errand, the hunter, who was nearly quite thoroughbred
+and a magnificent animal, dashed on, evidently determined to gain,
+without delay, some favourite destination.
+
+"Extraordinary!" said Lord Garrow. "Extraordinary!"
+
+"But so like him," observed his daughter.
+
+"And he has made us late for tea. What a stupid fellow!"
+
+It was exactly five minutes past five when they reached St. James's
+Square. The sun, a globe, set in thin lines of yellow light, shone out
+above the trees, which were dull but not yet leafless. Grey and
+sulphurous and gold-edged clouds floated in masses on the blue sky. It
+had been a day of changes--yet it seemed to Sara, whose own moods had
+been as various, the ordinary passing away of time.
+
+"Upon my word," said his lordship, "it is too bad! They may say what
+they please about Reckage, but I call him a spooney. That horse was a
+noble horse--a most superior horse. He couldn't manage him. I wish he
+would sell him."
+
+"He would never do anything so much to his own advantage," was the dry
+response. "Poor Reckage is a brilliant fool--he's selfish, and therefore
+he miscalculates."
+
+Sara was now talking mechanically--as she often did when she was with
+those whom she loved or liked, but from whom she was separated in every
+thought, interest, and emotion. The lassitude of which she had
+complained at the beginning of their drive returned upon her. Sighing
+heavily, she entered the house and mounted the long staircase to the
+drawing-room, where the tea-table was already spread, the flame
+quivering under the kettle, the deep pink china laid out on a silver
+tray. But the homeliness of the scene and its familiarity had no power
+to soothe that aching, distracted heart. Had she been a man, she
+thought, she might have sought her refuge in ceaseless work, in great
+ambitions, in achievements. This eternal tea-pouring and word-mincing,
+this business of forced laughter and garlanded conversation was more
+than she could endure. A low cry of impatience, too long and also too
+loosely imprisoned, escaped from her lips.
+
+"What is the matter?" asked Lord Garrow, who was following close upon
+her heels.
+
+"Life," she said, "life! That is all that ever does matter."
+
+"Ain't you happy?"
+
+"No, but I have it in me to be happy--an appalling capability. Let us
+say no more about it. I must join myself to eternity, and so find rest."
+
+"Well," said her father, who now felt that he had a right to complain,
+"my poor uncle used to say, if women deserved happiness they would bear
+it better. Few of them bear it well--and this is a fact I have often
+brought before me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+When Sara had prepared Lord Garrow's tea and cut the leaves of the
+_Revue des Deux Mondes_, which he invariably read until he dressed for
+dinner, she stole away to the further room, where she could play the
+piano, write letters, muse over novels, or indulge in reverie without
+fear of interruption. But as she entered it that afternoon its air of
+peace seemed the bleakness of desolation. A terrible and afflicting
+grief swept, like an icy breeze, through her heart, and, whether from
+actual physical pain or the excitement of the last few hours, tears
+started to her eyes, her cheeks flushed, and she fell to passionate
+weeping. The smiling Nymphs painted on the ceiling above her head and
+the rose leaves they were for ever scattering to the dancing Hours (a
+charming group, and considered very cheerful), could not relieve her
+woe. She cried long and bitterly, and was on the verge of hysterics when
+the door opened and her most intimate woman friend, the Viscountess Fitz
+Rewes, was announced. This bewitching creature--who was a widow, with
+two long flaxen curls, a sweet figure, and the smile of an
+angel--embraced her dear, dear Sara with genuine affection, and
+pretended not to see her swollen eyelids. Sara possessed for Pensee Fitz
+Rewes the fascination of a desperate nature for a meek one. The
+audacity, brilliancy, and recklessness of the younger woman at once
+stimulated and established the other's gentle piety.
+
+They talked for fifteen minutes about the autumn visits they had paid,
+the visits they would have to pay, and the visits which nothing in the
+world would induce them to pay.
+
+"I have been at home, at Catesby, most of the time," said Pensee; "a
+very quiet, happyish time, on the whole. I had a few people down, but I
+saw a great deal of a particularly nice person. She is a foreigner--an
+archduchess really. Her father made a morganatic marriage. I am so glad
+they don't have morganatic marriages in England. I don't like to be
+uncharitable, but they seem, in a way, so improper. Madame de Parflete
+is all one could wish. Her husband was a dreadful man."
+
+"What did he do?" said Sara, who was a little absent.
+
+"Oh, all kinds of things. He committed suicide in the end. And now--she
+is going to marry a friend of mine."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+"I never told you about him before," said Pensee, "but I am so miserable
+to-day that you may as well know. He was a sort of brother, yet much
+more. One didn't meet him often in our set, because he didn't and
+doesn't care about it. Life, however, threw us together."
+
+She covered her wan face with her hands.
+
+"How am I to give him up?" she asked. "How shall I bear it? I get so
+unhappy. I asked my little boy the other day what he did when I went
+away from home. He said--'I gather chestnuts and feel lonely.' And I
+asked my little girl what she did, and she said--'I cry till you come
+back again.' There's the difference between men and women. I am like my
+poor Lilian. You, Sara, if you could be wretched, would be more like the
+boy."
+
+"Do you think so?" said Sara.
+
+"That wonderful passage in the New Testament--I often remember it! After
+all the agony and separation were over, Simon Peter said to the
+disciples, _I go a fishing_. He went back to the work he was doing when
+our Lord first called him. What courage!"
+
+"Go on," said Sara, "go on!"
+
+"Of course, my heart has been taking an undue complacency in the
+creature, and this seldom fails to injure. I have a wish to be free from
+distress, and enjoy life. As if we were born to be happy! No, this world
+is a school to discipline souls and fit them for the other. I must
+forget my friend."
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"It will be very hard. I took such an interest in his career. If I
+didn't mention him to you, or to other people, I mentioned him often to
+God. And now--it is somewhat awkward."
+
+"You little goose," said Sara, "you have a heart of crystal. Nothing
+could be awkward for you."
+
+"My heart," said Pensee, with a touch of resentment, "is just as
+dangerous and wicked as any other heart! You misunderstand me wilfully.
+I like prayer at all times, because it is a help and because it lifts
+one out of the world. Oh, when shall every thought be brought into
+captivity?"
+
+"Listen!" said Sara, "listen! If there is an attractiveness in human
+beings so lovely that it could call your Almighty God Himself from
+heaven to dwell among them and to die most cruelly for their sakes, is
+it to be expected that they will not--and who will dare say that they
+should not?--as mortals themselves, discover qualities in each other
+which draw out the deepest affection? I have no patience with your
+religion--none."
+
+"You are most unkind, and I won't tell you any more," replied Pensee,
+who looked, however, not ungrateful for Sara's view of the situation.
+
+"Let me tell you something about me," said her friend fiercely. "I never
+say my prayers, because I cannot say them, but I love somebody, too.
+Whenever I hear his name I could faint. When I see him I could sink into
+the ground. At the sight of his handwriting I grow cold from head to
+foot, I tremble, my heart aches so that it seems breaking in two. I long
+to be with him, yet when I am with him I have nothing to say. I have to
+escape and be miserable all alone. He is my thought all day: the last
+before I sleep, the first when I awake. I could cry and cry and cry. I
+try to read, and I remember not a word. I like playing best, for then I
+can almost imagine that he is listening. But when I stop playing and
+look round, I find myself in an empty room. It is awful. I call his
+name; no one answers. I whisper it; still no answer. I throw myself on
+the ground, and I say, 'Think of me! think of me! you shall, you must,
+you do think of me!' It is great torture and a great despair. Perhaps it
+is a madness too. But it is my way of loving. I want to live while I
+live. If I knew for certain that he loved me--me only--the joy, I think,
+would kill me. Love! Do you know, poor little angel, what it means?
+Sometimes it is a curse."
+
+Pensee, before this torrent, was shaking like some small flower in a
+violent gale.
+
+"You say things, Sara, that no one says--things that one ought not to
+say. You must be quieter. You won't be happy when you are married if you
+begin with so much feeling!"
+
+"I am not going to marry that one," said Sara bitterly. "I am going to
+marry Marshire."
+
+Lady Fitz Rewes had too delicate a face to contain any expression of
+the alarm and horror she felt at this statement. She frowned, bit her
+lips, and sank back in her chair. What stroke of fate, she wondered, had
+overtaken the poor girl? Was she sane? Was she herself? Pensee found
+some relief in the thought that Sara was not herself--a state into which
+most people are presumed to fall whenever, from stress or emotion, they
+become either strictly candid or perfectly natural.
+
+"It is a fancy. Fancies are in my blood," said Sara; "you need not be
+anxious."
+
+"But--but what feeling have you for Marshire?" murmured Pensee.
+
+"I have a faint inclination not to dislike him utterly. And I will be a
+good wife to him. If I say so, I shall keep my word. You may be sure of
+that."
+
+"I could never doubt your honour, Sara. Is the other man quite, quite
+out of the question?"
+
+"Quite."
+
+"But perhaps he does love you."
+
+"Oh no, he doesn't. He may think me picturesque and rather entertaining.
+It never went deeper than that. I saw at once that his mind was fixed on
+some other woman."
+
+"I suppose one can always tell when a man's affections are really
+engaged," said Pensee, with a sigh.
+
+"Yes, beyond any doubt. You feel that they are comparing you at every
+point, in a silent, cold-blooded way, to the bright particular star. I
+envy you, Pensee; you, at least, were desperately loved by Lionel. But
+I--never, never was loved--except once."
+
+"Who was he?"
+
+"He was a Russian, very good-looking, and a genius. But oh, I wasn't old
+enough to understand him. When he died, I cried for half a day and seven
+nights. And after that, not a tear. You see, I didn't understand myself
+either."
+
+"Do I know this other one ... the one, now?"
+
+"I won't tell you his name. Perhaps, another time, when we are all very
+old ... and he is dead ... or I am dying...."
+
+"Oh, don't say that!" exclaimed Pensee, "don't say that! You are making
+a lot of misery for yourself."
+
+"Not at all. I am making the most of my one saving grace. There is
+nothing very nice about me--except that. And he is a man. The only real
+one among all our friends--the only one for whom I have the least
+respect. If any woman had his love--how sure, how happy she could be! I
+could work, and starve, and lay down my life for a man like that. If he
+had loved me, I think I could have been almost a good woman, a downright
+good one, a Saint Elizabeth of Hungary. But you see that wasn't to be.
+And so I am just this----" She looked in the glass and pointed a white
+finger, loaded with rings of black pearls, at her reflection. "I am just
+this--a vain, idle fool like all the rest--except you, poor darling."
+
+"Why don't you keep up your music?--your wonderful playing? Every one
+says it is so wonderful. That's a great outlet for emotion. And your
+languages--why not work an hour a day each at Italian, Spanish, German,
+and French? That would kill four hours of the day straight off!"
+
+"Bah!" said Sara, "I cannot play--unless there is some one to play for.
+As for languages--I cannot talk alone. And as for reading--I cannot find
+all my world between the covers of a book."
+
+"But live for others, dear Sara."
+
+"I want to live for myself. I have one inseparable companion--that is
+myself. I want to suffer my own sufferings, and enjoy my own enjoyments.
+This living for others is absurd. I hate second-hand emotions; they are
+stale and dull. But, Pensee, you haven't told me the name of your
+friend."
+
+"I thought I had," said Pensee, simply; "you will see it in the marriage
+notice the day after to-morrow. It is Robert Orange."
+
+Sara stared for a moment. Then the string of gold beads which she wore
+round her throat suddenly broke, and the shining ornaments fell all
+about her to the floor.
+
+"Dear me!" said Sara, kneeling down with a ghastly laugh. Pensee knelt
+too, and they gathered the scattered necklace between them. "Dear me! I
+was never more surprised--never; and yet I cannot think why I am
+surprised. He is very handsome. Any woman would like him."
+
+"I wonder," said Pensee, full of thoughts.
+
+Sara proceeded to count her beads, lest one should be missing. But they
+were all there, and she tied them up in her handkerchief.
+
+"Pensee," she said, presently. "I will tell his name after all, because
+you have been so frank with me. The one I ... love is Beauclerk
+Reckage." As she uttered this lie, she cast down her eyes and blushed to
+the very heart.
+
+"Beauclerk!" exclaimed Pensee, in amazement. "Then there _is_ some hope
+after all! There is, there must be! Beauclerk! He is engaged to Agnes
+Carillon, of course. But all the same...."
+
+The conversation flagged. Lord Garrow, who had heard a distant murmuring
+but not their words, now, as their animation failed, came in.
+
+"My little girl," said he, "has been moping. I am very glad that you
+called ... very glad indeed. And Sara, my darling...."
+
+"Yes, papa."
+
+"Have you asked Pensee the name of that extremely pretty song she sang
+for us when we all dined together at Lord Wight's? You remember the
+evening?"
+
+But Sara, with a wail, fled away. Pensee caught a glimpse of her white,
+agonised countenance as she rushed past them, moaning, to her own room.
+
+"This is dreadful," said Lord Garrow, horribly annoyed--"dreadful!"
+
+"It is indeed," replied Lady Fitz Rewes gravely. "I suppose...."
+
+She wanted to say that she hoped the Marshire-de Treverell alliance was
+still undecided. But something in his lordship's air--a hardness she had
+never thought to see in his regard--forbade any reference to the
+subject. He conducted her to her carriage, wished her "Goodbye" in his
+Court manner, and led her to understand, by an unmistakable glance, that
+a certain marriage which had been arranged would, inasmuch as it was
+entirely agreeable to the will of Providence, take place.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+Lord Reckage, in the meantime, had not been able to draw rein until he
+reached Grafton Street, where the hunter, of its own will, stopped short
+at a door, half glass and half mahogany, before which a groom stood
+watching, evidently with some suspense, for their approach. At the first
+sight of the animal and its rider, he hastened forward, and, seizing the
+bridle, assisted his master to dismount. Once on the ground, the young
+man satisfied his spleen by hitting the horse several vicious cuts with
+his whip. Then he informed the servant that it was his intention to walk
+home, and, with an ominous scowl, watched the "rushing beast" led from
+his sight. No one, except himself, was permitted to occupy that saddle.
+
+The house which he now entered had been the town mansion for three
+generations of the Hampshires, but, despised by its then owner, whose
+young duchess wanted an Italian villa on Piccadilly, or a French chateau
+in Park Lane, the lease had been sold to a syndicate of rising
+politicians who formed a small organisation known, in those days, as the
+Mirafloreans.
+
+"The little order," we read in the Hon. Hercy Berenville's Memoirs, a
+malicious work printed for private circulation only--"the little order
+first came into notice under the name of the 'Bond of Association,' a
+High Church society founded by my brother, Lord Reckage. He formed his
+executive committee, however, on timorous and unexpected lines. He had
+tried to please the spiteful rather than the loyal. The loyal, he urged,
+were always forbearing, but the spiteful needed every attention. He
+disappointed alike the warmest and the most selfish among his
+supporters. True to his policy, he made desperate attempts to win over
+some vindictive men from among the Radicals, and, finally, in a fit of
+nervousness, declared, after five months of fruitful folly, his
+determination to reorganise the whole league on a strictly non-sectarian
+basis. He described himself as a moral philosopher. Once more he became
+a figure of interest, again he raised the standard, again he attracted a
+small company of enthusiasts, again it was expected that God's enemies
+would be scattered. He invited his former secretary, a Roman Catholic,
+to join the new society, but he made it clear that Orange, a man of real
+distinction, was in no sense a prominent member. The precise dogmata of
+Mirafloreanism--a nickname given, I believe, in ironic sympathy by Mr.
+Disraeli--were undefined, but the term gradually became associated with
+those ideals of conduct, government, and Art which poets imagine, heroes
+realise, and the ignorant destroy. Men of all, sundry, and opposing
+beliefs presumed to its credentials. Some, because the club appeared to
+flourish, many because it was not yet overcrowded, and a few because
+they were in perfect agreement with the varying opinions of its ultimate
+presiding genius, Disraeli himself. They worked quietly, not in the
+House of Commons, but outside it, delivering lectures, writing books,
+starting newspapers, holding meetings, and enlisting the sympathies of
+rich, idle, ambitious, or titled women. There seemed no end or limit to
+the variety of their interests, their methods of labour, or their
+conceit. The club--judged by the leonine measure of success--as a club
+did little for learning or literary men. It became a mere meeting-house
+for dining and drinking, but it promoted cordiality among the leading
+members of the young Tory party, and brought persons together who could
+not, in the ordinary way of life, have met each other at all. Although
+the more gaudy and best known among them came from the first second-rate
+families in England, the rank and file were formed mainly by young men
+of good estate and breeding--the sons of clergy, country squires, or
+merchants, all sprung from that class which is called Middle, because it
+represents civilised society neither in its rough beginnings nor in its
+tawdry decay."
+
+Berenville's remarks, it will be plainly seen, anticipate our history a
+little, for, at the time of which we write, the Bond of Association was
+still maintaining a sickly existence on its original programme. Orange
+had not yet been invited to join it, nor had Lord Reckage declared
+himself a moral philosopher.
+
+On this particular afternoon his lordship entered, from the street, a
+narrow vestibule, the red walls of which were lit up by wax candles set
+at either end in ponderous bronze chandeliers. From this he passed into
+a square inner hall, paved with marble, and furnished by carved seats
+which had once belonged to the choir of an ancient chapel in
+Northumberland. Here he paused, for his attention was immediately
+arrested by a small group of four or five individuals who were talking
+with great earnestness at the foot of the oak staircase. Not that this
+was, in itself, an unusual event, for ever since a memorable day when
+the Earl of Bampton and the young Archdeacon of Soham, feeling warm, had
+ordered their tea to be served in that part of the building, it had been
+the fashion for distinguished members to assemble there, dispersing
+themselves in careless profusion among the statues of departed
+ecclesiastics or reclining pleasantly on the blue velvet divan which
+occupied the centre of the floor.
+
+Foremost in the little company on this occasion stood Sir Edward
+Ullweather and Nigel Bradwyn, both private secretaries, and each
+secretly convinced that his peculiar powers would have found brilliant,
+volcanic opportunities of demonstration in the other's more promising
+berth. Ullweather, whose life had been devoted to the study of
+agricultural problems, was subordinate to the Secretary of State for
+War. Bradwyn, on the other hand, who had planted his soul in the East,
+was now learning what he could, at the nation's expense, of the nation's
+domestic policy. Demoralised by disappointment, and made cynical by
+toiling over interests for which they had, at best, but a forced regard,
+little remained in their breasts but a sore determination to make the
+best of an abiding discontent. In joining Lord Reckage's Committee, they
+found themselves again, as they believed, in a false position. The
+second-rate mind, whether represented in a person or by a council,
+shrinks from the adoption of simple measures, and invariably seeks to
+make itself conspicuous by so placing others as to make them appear
+unnecessary. The special genius of Lord Reckage was shown, perhaps, in
+his abilities in this direction, and, while he missed no opportunity of
+engaging men of proved capabilities for his service, his jealousy drove
+him so to employ them that they were never permitted to do their best
+either for him or for themselves. This policy carried in itself the
+sting for its own destruction.
+
+Not far from Ullweather and Bradwyn, Randall Hatchett, the youngest
+member of the Executive, lounged against a pillar. Proud of a
+distinction which he dared not comprehend (for a commercial shrewdness
+made him suspect that he owed his position less to merit than to the
+subtle promises conveyed by a weak chin), this distinguished person
+tried to look the secrets which his colleagues had never permitted him
+to learn. In moody weariness he would sometimes condescend to the
+company of his subordinates on the General Committee and, while
+listening to their irresponsible prattle, he would seem to forget the
+onerous public interests the absolute neglect of which was his chief
+duty at the Council board.
+
+Near this gentleman were two others, Hartley Penborough, the editor of
+_The Sentinel_, and the Hon. Charles Aumerle, whose guest he was.
+
+As Lord Reckage entered and showed some intention of joining in the
+conversation, they appeared by a silent and common consent to ignore his
+approach. He turned to the hall porter, gave him some instructions in a
+low voice and passed on, livid with annoyance, to the library beyond.
+
+"Hullo!" exclaimed Aumerle, "that was Reckage."
+
+"I know it," said Randall Hatchett.
+
+"Why didn't you speak to him?" asked Aumerle.
+
+"Because," said Bradwyn, "our good Hatchett is not so sure of himself
+that he can afford to be civil even to a President out of fashion!"
+
+No one smiled except Hatchett himself, because each one felt it was
+unwise to encourage Bradwyn's peculiar humour.
+
+"I would have spoken to Reckage," said Ullweather, with a superior air,
+"but I have never felt the same toward him since he threw over Orange
+at the time of his election."
+
+"And several other old friends more recently!" observed the injudicious
+Bradwyn.
+
+"I don't speak of myself," said Ullweather, "but Orange was unusually
+devoted to the fellow; and all I wish to make clear is this, that when
+Reckage ever said or did the right thing in times past, the credit was
+solely due to Orange. He weeded prophecy from his speeches, and rudeness
+from his jokes. Great services, I assure you!"
+
+"True," said Randall Hatchett, "for there is nothing more fatal to a
+political career than brilliant impromptus and spirited orations. A
+statesman's words, like butcher's meat, should be well weighed."
+
+"You have so many prescriptions for success," said Bradwyn, "that I
+wonder you ain't President yourself."
+
+"Reckage has taken us all in," said Ullweather.
+
+"By no means," said Bradwyn. "I maintained from the first that he was
+overrated. His genial manner--his open-hearted smile! Men always smile
+at creditors whom they don't intend to pay."
+
+"I foretold the whole situation," observed Penborough. "I said, 'Let
+Reckage once get full power, and he will fool us all.' He affects not to
+be ambitious, and to prefer moral science to immoral politics. I have no
+faith in these active politicians who make long speeches to the public,
+and assure their friends, in very short notes, that they prefer
+trout-fishing to the cares of State! There is but one man who can save
+the society now."
+
+Bradwyn, Hatchett, and Ullweather looked up, each armed with a modest
+and repudiating smile.
+
+"Who?" asked Hatchett, looking down.
+
+"Robert Orange," said Penborough.
+
+"Probably," replied Hatchett, after a minute's hesitation. "Probably,
+Orange ... in time."
+
+"Don't you like him?" said Penborough.
+
+"Like him!" answered Hatchett, rolling up his eyes. "He's an angel!"
+
+"He calls him an angel as though he wished he were one in reality," said
+Bradwyn. "I know these generous rivals!"
+
+Ullweather stood gnawing his upper lip.
+
+"Orange," he said, at last. "Oh, Orange has arrived. He will get no
+further. Of course, he won that election, but Dizzy managed that. Dizzy
+is the devil! And then, he is still devoted to Reckage, and, for a man
+of his supposed shrewdness, I call that a sign of evident weakness."
+
+At this, Charles Aumerle, who had been listening with the deepest
+attention to all that passed, looked straight at the speaker.
+
+"You should respect," said he, "that liberty, which we all have to
+deceive ourselves. Reckage has many good points."
+
+"But," said Penborough, "he has no moral force, no imagination. He
+judges men by their manners, which is silly. He thinks that every one
+who is polite to him believes in him. He will have to send in his
+resignation before long."
+
+"You don't mean it," said Aumerle.
+
+"I mean more," continued Penborough. "He could not choose a better
+moment than the present. In another month, on its present lines, the
+whole league will have foundered. Should he remain, he would have to
+sink with the ship. Now, however, it appears safe enough--people see
+only what you see--a good cargo of influential names on the committee
+and a clear horizon. He could plead ill-health, or his marriage--in
+fact, a dozen excellent reasons for momentary retirement. The world
+would praise his tact. As for the rest, those who have been
+disillusioned will lose their heads, those who were merely self-seekers
+will probably lose their places, but the trimmers always keep something.
+The thing, then, is to cultivate the art of trimming."
+
+"But you forget that Reckage is going to marry Miss Carillon," said
+Aumerle. "Miss Carillon will always advise the safe course."
+
+"That's all very well," said Bradwyn, "but there has been too much
+arrangement in that marriage! I can tell you how the engagement came
+about. She was intimate with his aunt. He acquired the habit of her
+society on all decorous occasions. Still, he never proposed. The aunt
+invited her to Almouth. She stayed two months. Still, not a word. Her
+papa grew impatient, ordered her home. The next day she came to the
+breakfast-table with red eyes, and announced her departure. The boxes
+were packed; she went to take a last look at the dear garden. Reckage
+followed, Fate accompanied him. He spoke. She sent a telegram to her
+papa: 'Detained. Important. Will write.' No, the real woman for him was
+Lady Sara de Treverell."
+
+Ullweather thrust his tongue into his cheek.
+
+"Lady Sara has been called to higher destinies," said he, "than the
+heavenly 'sweet hand in hand!'"
+
+"I see you know," said Bradwyn, with a mysterious glance.
+
+"Yes," said Ullweather. "The friendship of the Duke of Marshire for Lady
+Sara increases every day, and the little fit of giddiness which seized
+him when he was dining with my Chief makes me think that admiration is
+developing into love. I am in great hopes that this match may come off."
+
+"As to that," said Hatchett, "her father and the Duke were the night
+before last at Brooks's, but no conversation passed between them. This
+does not look as though a very near alliance were in contemplation."
+
+"There are prettier women than she in the world," said Aumerle.
+
+"I have never seen her," said Penborough.
+
+"Large eyes, a small head, and the devil of a temper," said Bradwyn;
+"and sympathies--there never was a young woman with so many sympathies!
+There is an old proverb," he added, with a sneer, "'They are not all
+friends of the bridegroom who seem to be following the bride.'"
+
+Ullweather was still absorbed in his own meditation.
+
+"Marshire," said he, "is the man for us. We might do something with
+Marshire."
+
+"Nevertheless," said Penborough, "I have my eye on Orange."
+
+"I say," exclaimed Bradwyn, "be careful. Here is Reckage again. How the
+dickens did he pass us?"
+
+The men glanced up at a solitary figure which now appeared descending
+the broad staircase. In silence, and with a studied expression of
+contempt, without a look either to the right or to the left, the
+unpopular leader passed through the hall and out into the street.
+
+"A lonely beggar, after all," said Bradwyn.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+Reckage was dining at home that evening with Orange, whose marriage was
+to take place at the Alberian Embassy on the morrow. The young man was
+not in good spirits at his friend's step, for he himself was about to
+take a wife also, and much of the apprehension which he felt on his own
+account found its vent in dreary soliloquies on the risk, sacrifices,
+responsibilities, and trouble involved by the single act of saddling
+oneself for a lifetime with some one woman. Reckage, for his own part,
+had loved one lady very well, yet not so madly that he could resign
+himself to loving her only, to the exclusion of all others. He walked
+along toward Almouth House in a mood of many vexations, cursing the
+impudence of Bradwyn and Ullweather, wondering whether he had done
+wisely, after all, in engaging himself to the blameless Miss Carillon,
+sighing a little over a rumour which had reached him about Sara de
+Treverell and the Duke of Marshire, deploring the obstinacy of Robert
+Orange where Mrs. Parflete was concerned. He admitted that Mrs. Parflete
+was an exceedingly beautiful, young, and, as it happened, rich person.
+He owned her delightfulness for a man of Robert's dreamy, romantic,
+intense temperament. But marriage between two idealists so highly
+strung, and so passionately attached as these two beings were--what
+would happen? No doubt they would be able to endure the inevitable
+disillusions--(inevitable because Nature is before all things sensual
+and has no care for mental prejudices one way or the other)--the
+inevitable disillusions of family life. It was scarcely possible that
+the devotion of Robert and Mrs. Parflete would not waver or seem less
+exquisite under this discipline. Their dream of love would become
+unparadised. It would gain a sadness, a melancholy, a note of despair
+hard to endure and most difficult to repress. Reckage had no
+transcendentalism in his own philosophy: he divided men into two
+classes--those who read, and those who could not stand, Dante. He
+included himself among the latter with a frankness at once astonishing
+and welcome even to numbers who thought him, in most matters, a
+hypocrite. The hold of the world was growing daily stronger upon him.
+His ambitions were already sullied by many unworthy and deadening ideas.
+He dwelt a great deal on the fleetingness of life, and the wisdom of
+making the best of its few charming things. Food, and wine, and money,
+and fine houses, and amusements were subjects on which he expended a
+large amount of silent enthusiasm. But, for all this, he could still
+see much to admire--perhaps to envy--in Robert's more spiritual mind,
+and he dreaded--as men often do dread in such cases--the effect of a
+woman's companionship on so ascetic a character.
+
+"He knows nothing about women--nothing," he told himself. "He has no
+experience. He takes them too seriously."
+
+He was, while he admitted his own unreasonableness, a little shocked at
+the very notion of Orange with a wife and children. It went against the
+grain, and upset the ideals of austerity which he had carefully
+planned--not for himself, but for his friend. Robert, he urged, was born
+to be an example--an encouragement to those who were called, by the
+mercy of God, to less rigorous vocations. Reckage suffered many scruples
+of conscience on Robert's account; he surveyed him with a sense of
+disappointment; he had always supposed that he would ultimately turn
+Jesuit in sober earnest, and die a martyr's death in the Far East. This
+would, in his opinion, have been a fine end to a Quixotic, very
+touching, most remarkable life. Would he now immaturely fall a victim to
+an enticing face and the cares of a household? Would he be able to
+sustain his character? One thing was certain. He could never again
+expect to exercise precisely the same potent influence as he had in the
+past, over his earth-bound, self-indulgent friends. Self-indulgent
+people always exacted unusual privations from those who would seek to
+move them--and Robert's call was clearly to materialists rather than to
+the righteous. Pusey married, it was true. Keble married. No one thought
+the less of them on that account. Even the judicious Hooker married. And
+they were clergymen. Reckage called them priests. But Newman did not
+marry, and, while Reckage was unable to agree in the main with Newman's
+views, he had a fixed notion that he was the strong man--the master
+spirit--among them. And another consideration. The passion of love has a
+danger for very sensitive, reserved, and concentrated minds unknown to
+creatures of more volatile, expansive, and unreflecting disposition.
+Reckage knew well that he was himself too selfish a man to let affection
+for any one creature come between his soul and its God. There was no
+self-discipline required in his case when a choice had to be made
+between a human being and his own advantage--whether temporal or
+eternal. He had never--since he was a youth--felt an immoderate fondness
+for anybody; he had likes and dislikes, admirations and partialities,
+jealousies, too, and well-defined tastes where feminine beauty was in
+question, but it was not in him to err from excess of charity. The
+imaginative and visionary parts of life--and no one is wholly without
+them--soon turned into severe reality whenever he found himself
+confronted with that sole absorbing interest--his career. Marriage, in
+his own case, seemed an imperative duty. He was an eldest son, the heir
+to an earldom and a vast estate; he wished to lead a distinguished,
+comfortable, and edifying existence. His wife would be a helpmate, not a
+snare; the mother of his children, not the light of his eyes. But what a
+difference in Robert's case--with his capacity for worship, for really
+intense and absorbing passion. All this was especially transparent to
+Reckage, who, as a man of the world, had watched his friend for months,
+detecting the shattering physical effects of an iron restraint imposed
+on every thought, mood, and inclination. He had enjoyed the spectacle:
+it was a good fight--this sharp, unceasing struggle between mere human
+nature, young, vigorous, sane, indefatigable, and an upright soul full
+of tenderness, yet forced to live in constant warfare. Awe, too, had
+mingled in Reckage's sensations while he looked on; something of pity
+and terror stirred under the callous muscle which he called his heart at
+the sight of a voiceless, stifled despair outside the range of his
+personal experience, though not entirely beyond his sympathy. All men
+did not love after this fashion, he knew, but humanity was full of
+surprises, and he had been too calm a student of other men's lives to
+feel astonishment at any fresh revelation either of their pain, their
+perversity, or their humours. He had felt so sure, however, that Robert
+would, in the end, get the better of that unhappy attachment; everything
+in the process of time had to surrender to reason, and it was not
+possible, he thought, that a strong, self-reliant man could long remain
+subdued by a mere infatuation.
+
+"And why doesn't he think of his health?" insisted Reckage; "it is
+really going between all this sleeplessness, and fasting, and over-work.
+Flesh and blood cannot bear the strain. He is never idle for one moment.
+He is afraid of brooding."
+
+It was with these sentiments of fear for the one creature he believed
+in, and hostility toward the woman who had presumed to interfere with
+the progress of that clear spirit, that he found himself at Almouth
+House. The blinds of the dining-room were but partially down. He could
+see the menservants within preparing the table which, set for two
+covers, showed a pretty display of cut-glass, flowers, old silver, and
+shining damask under the yellow rays of the lit candles. Some family
+portraits by Gainsborough and Reynolds, a Holbein, and a Vandyck, with
+lamps shining like footlights beneath them, were darkly visible on the
+dull blue walls. The famous mantelpiece inlaid with uncut turquoise was
+also within sight; and the sideboard with its load of Sevres china and
+gold dishes. Reckage took great pride in these possessions, but it
+shocked his sense of dignity to see them thus exposed to the vulgar
+gaze.
+
+He let himself into the mansion with a latchkey, stormed at the servants
+for their carelessness, and made what is commonly known as a scene.
+
+Then he crossed the hall, and went into another fine room, which led by
+steps into a garden, and caught the sunset.
+
+Here, standing by the window with his back to the door, looking at the
+clouds, greyer than a gull's wing, which fled like driven souls across
+the sky, stood Orange.
+
+He turned as the latch moved, and Reckage, coming in, perceived the pale
+face, resolute, a little proud, and thoroughly inscrutable of his former
+secretary. Of fine height and broad-shouldered, Robert bore himself with
+peculiar firmness and ease. His brown eyes, with their brilliant,
+defiant glance, his close, dark beard, and powerful aquiline features;
+the entire absence of vanity, or the desire to produce an impression
+which showed itself in every line of his face and every movement of his
+body, indicated a type of individual more likely to attract the
+confidence of men than the sentimentality of women.
+
+The two young men greeted each other pleasantly, but with a certain
+reserve on each side.
+
+"So you are here!" said Reckage, seating himself. "I am sorry to be
+late. The fact is I caught sight of old Garrow and Sara de Treverell
+driving together in the Park, and it suddenly occurred to me to ask 'em
+to dine with us to-night. I raced after their brougham, but my brute of
+a horse--Pluto: you know the beast--gave me such a lot of trouble that I
+couldn't speak to them. How are you? You don't look very fit. Perhaps
+you are glad that we are alone. But Sara is a nice girl, and full of
+kindness. She's a good friend, too--just the friend for your wife. I
+thought of that."
+
+Robert resumed his post at the window, and studied the heavens. But if
+he sought for any answer to the many impassioned questions which were
+thronging his heart and mind at that moment, he looked in vain. For
+himself the struggles of the last year had been to a great degree
+subconscious. He had been like a sick man who, ignorant of the real
+gravity of his condition, fights death daily without a thought of the
+unequal strife, or the suspense of his physicians. He had abandoned
+himself to study, immersed himself in work; he was neither morbid nor an
+amorist; and while he felt a stinging misery for ever in his heart, he
+bore it with manly reticence, without complaint, without despair. Love,
+in his case, had meant the idealisation of the whole of life--the life
+of action and the life within the soul. It had transfigured the world,
+lit up and illumined every dark corner, answered every turbulent doubt.
+From the habit of this wholly mental emotion, he had lost, little by
+little, the sense of the actual bodily existence of the woman herself.
+It is true that he thought of her always as some one modestly beautiful,
+of childish form, with a face like a water-nymph's--imperious, magical,
+elusive, yet, whenever he found himself in her presence, she seemed
+further away than when they were, in fact, apart. The kiss he had given
+her on the day of their betrothal had been as strange, indefinable, and
+irrealisable as the passing of one hour into the next. There had been
+the time before he kissed her, there was the time afterwards, but the
+transition had been so swift, and so little recognised, so inevitable,
+that while it drew both their lives down deep into the wild, pitiless
+surge of human feeling, she still remained more dearly and completely
+his by intuition than when he held her--a true woman--in his arms. The
+moral training of a lifetime, the unceasing, daily discipline of a mind
+indulgent to others, but most severe with itself, had given him a
+self-mastery in impulse and desire which, although the aspect of affairs
+had changed, he could not easily, or even willingly, relax. His soul
+drew back from its new privileges, sweet as they were--and he was too
+honest to deny their overpowering sweetness--they seemed like the
+desecration of a most sacred thought. Vainly he reasoned, vainly he
+admitted the folly of such scruples. They remained. Asceticism is a
+faithful quality. It is won by slow and painful stages, with bitter
+distress and mortifying tears, but once really gained, the losing is
+even harder than the struggle for its acquisition.
+
+And so the young man found himself in that hard position when judgment
+and prejudice stand opposed so utterly that victory either way must mean
+a lasting regret. Perhaps he was not the first bridegroom who felt
+loath, on the eve of his marriage, to change the delicate, almost
+ethereal tenderness of betrothed lovers for the close and intimate
+association of husband and wife. The one relationship has something in
+it immaterial, exquisite, and unearthly, a bond invisible and yet as
+potent as the winds we cannot see and the melodies we only hear. The
+other, with its profound appeals to mortality, its demands upon all that
+is strongest in affection and eternal in courage, its irreparableness,
+suffering, and constancy, might, indeed, have the grandeur of all human
+tragedy, and the dignity of a holy state; but that it could ever be so
+beautiful as the love which is a silent influence was to Robert then, at
+least, an inconceivable idea. He felt upon him and around him, in his
+flesh and in his spirit, in the air and in the whole world, the
+all-enveloping shadow of remorse. The dormant possibilities of his own
+fanatical nature rose up before him--pale, inarticulate fiercenesses
+crushed so long, and now trembling eagerly under his breath at the
+prospect of a little more liberty in loving. A suspicion that already he
+loved perhaps too well and far too passionately thrilled through his
+conscience, and tortured a heart to whom thought was a refuge and
+feeling a martyrdom.
+
+Reckage, watching Robert from a corner of the room, grew irritated at
+the silence, and wondered, with a cruel and jealous curiosity, what was
+passing in his mind. He wondered whether he was praying. An impulse,
+which had something in it of brute fury, urged him to tear open that
+still face and drag the thoughts behind it to the light. Why was it
+that one could never, by any sense, enter into another's spirit?
+The same torturing mystery had often disturbed him during the
+half-hours--outwardly placid and commonplace--which he spent, out of
+etiquette, with his future bride. She, too, retired behind the veil of
+her countenance to live a hidden life that he could never hope to join.
+How lonely was companionship in these conditions, and how desolate
+marriage!
+
+He could not resist the temptation to break in, with a touch of crude
+satire, upon his friend's solitude.
+
+"What is the matter?" he exclaimed, "are you hungry?"
+
+"No," said Robert, so well accustomed to such violent jars that they
+could no longer disturb him; "I was only thinking...."
+
+"About what?"
+
+"All sorts of things."
+
+Reckage turned pale from dissatisfied inquisitiveness.
+
+"I think, too," he answered, "but I can throw out a word now and again."
+
+Then, making the remark that he was not dressed for dinner, he left the
+room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+The dinner, in the ordering of which the host had expended all his
+gastronomical knowledge and much anxiety, seemed long. Orange found
+himself opposite the famous portrait of "Edwyn, Lord Reckage of
+Almouth," which represents that nobleman elaborately dressed, reclining
+on a grassy bank by a spring of water, with a wooded landscape, a
+sunrise, and a squire holding two horses in the distance. Robert
+studied, and remembered always, every detail of that singular
+composition. The warrior's shield, with its motto "_Magica sympathia_,"
+his fat white hands, velvet breeches, steel cuirass, and stiff lace
+collar remained for days a grotesque image before his mind. He traced,
+too, a certain resemblance between Reckage and that ancestor--they both
+wore pointed red beards, both were fair of skin, both had a dreaming
+violence in their blue eyes.
+
+"You must have some pheasant," said his lordship, at last. "You are
+eating nothing. And that Burgundy, you know, is unique of its kind. It
+was a present from the Emperor of the French to mamma. Her people were
+civil to him when he was regarded as a sort of adventurer. And he never
+forgot it. He's a very decent fellow. I dined with him at the
+Tuileries--did I mention it?"
+
+Robert replied that he fancied he had heard of the occurrence.
+
+"Well," continued his friend, "I might have enjoyed that experience, but
+I was feeling depressed at the time; a lot of the depression went under
+the influence of frivolous talk, military music, and champagne. Yet, all
+the same, do these things really count for much? I felt just as wretched
+afterwards."
+
+The glimpse he had obtained that afternoon of Sara de Treverell--Sara
+flushed with agitation, very bright in her glance, exceedingly subtle in
+her smile, had stirred a great tenderness he had once felt for that
+young lady. The news, too, that she had been chosen as a bride by the
+prudent, rich, and most important Duke of Marshire made his lordship
+feel that perhaps he had committed a blunder in not having secured her,
+during her first season, for himself. He feared that he had lost an
+opportunity; and this reflection, while it lowered temporarily his
+self-esteem, placed Sara on a dangerous eminence. She would be a
+duchess--one of the great duchesses. Little Sara!
+
+"She was looking extraordinarily handsome," he exclaimed. "Of course she
+means to take him. But she liked me at one time. I am speaking of Sara
+de Treverell. Marshire is by way of being a stick. Who could have
+imagined him going in for a high-spirited, brilliant girl like Sara?"
+
+Formerly he had always spoken of Sara as a clever little devil, but
+Robert showed no surprise at the new adjective.
+
+"Brilliant!" repeated his lordship. "Don't you agree?"
+
+"Absolutely. She is the most brilliant girl in London."
+
+"But heartless," said his lordship pathetically; "she hasn't one bit of
+heart."
+
+"There I don't agree with you. Of course she is strange and rather
+wild."
+
+"_Tete-montee._ And then the Asiatic streak!"
+
+"True. The fiercest wind cannot take the angles out of the bough of a
+tree an inch thick. You may break it, but you cannot destroy its angles.
+That is so, no doubt, with one's racial tendencies. The girl is wilful
+and romantic. It will be very bad for them both if there is no love on
+her side. She is capable, I should say, of very deep affection."
+
+"She did like me," said his lordship, with emphasis and
+satisfaction--"she really did. And I wouldn't encourage it. I had no
+notion then of marrying. Her singularity, too, made me cautious. I
+couldn't believe in her. She talked like an actress in a play. I felt
+that she was not the woman for me. Essentially she thought as I did,
+and seemed to comprehend my embarrassment. The worst of it is now--I may
+have been wrong."
+
+"I doubt it. You may be sure, on the whole, that your instincts were
+right."
+
+"Still, there is a distinct misgiving. I was drawn toward her, and, when
+I made up my mind to put an end to the matter, our friendship was
+severely strained. But it was not broken. Something I saw in her face
+to-day makes me sure that it was not broken."
+
+While he was speaking the servant entered with a salver, and on the
+salver was a note. The address showed Sara's large, defiant
+hand-writing. Reckage, who had a touch of superstition in his nature,
+changed colour and even hesitated before he broke the seal. The
+coincidence seemed extraordinary and fatal. What did it mean? He read
+the letter with an irresistible feeling of proud delight.
+
+"20A, ST. JAMES'S SQUARE, W.
+
+"MY DEAR BEAUCLERK,--Will you lunch with us to-morrow at two o'clock?
+Papa has invited a friend--a dreadful, boring friend--who has been
+absent from England for five years. Do you know the man? Sir Piers
+Harding? But I want some one to encourage me. You? Do!
+
+"Yours sincerely,
+
+"S. L. V. DE TREVERELL.
+
+"P.S.--I am so happy about you and Agnes. Be kind to her always? Won't
+you?"
+
+All his life he had found a difficulty in understanding women--the
+significance of their words, the precise translation of their glances,
+and their motives generally. He had nourished his experience on French
+novels; he had corrected it by various friendships; he had crowned it
+with the confession that one could never tell what the sex meant one way
+or the other. But this fact remained--he was a coxcomb, and, whenever he
+owned himself puzzled, it was on a single ground only--how seriously was
+the lady at stake affected by his charms? Feeling, as he did, the
+infinite inequality that existed between men, and conscious of his own
+reputation as a leader among them, it was not in his conscience to
+encourage any woman whom he did not find especially attractive or
+useful. Why spoil her chances? Why make her discontented with the
+average male creature? Had Sara written to him in ordinary
+circumstances, inviting him, after some months of mutual coldness, to
+lunch, he would have replied, with sorrowful dignity, that it was wiser
+to leave things as they were. But the case had altered. The future
+Duchess of Marshire was a personage. He made no secret of his admiration
+for all people of high rank. They represented influence and traditions;
+what was more, they could exercise a certain power, and introduce, when
+necessary, the ideas upon which fresh traditions could be based. A
+friend like Sara de Treverell with her new honours made life itself
+more rich to him. When he remembered that she was young, handsome,
+enthusiastic, and impulsive, his pleasure thrilled into something of
+genuine passion. He told himself that he had always been fond of the
+girl; that hundreds of times he had felt the hardness of his scrupulous
+position where she was concerned. If he had been asked what especially
+he conceived his own duty to be now, he would have said that it was not
+for him to hang back when she showed a coming spirit. But this was not
+all. He was a gamester; he was ambitious.
+
+"This is very odd," said he, reading Sara's note for the second time,
+"very odd. There's no harm in showing it to you, because there is
+nothing in it."
+
+He gave it to his friend, and ate, pleasantly, while Orange glanced down
+the page. His soul's wish was to be left alone. The effort of forcing
+himself--not to affect but honestly to feel--an interest in Reckage's
+conversation had proved successful. He had indeed put aside his own
+thoughts, and followed, with the exaggerated earnestness of a mind
+determined on self-sacrifice, every word his companion had uttered. The
+spirit invisible wears the laurel of mental victories, but the body has
+to bear the exhaustion, the scars, and the soreness. He was tired, but
+he stirred himself again to consider Sara's note. In the course of that
+year she had written several letters to Orange--letters about books, new
+pictures, and new music. Once she had given him a little song of her
+own composition as something of which she "desired to hear no more for
+ever." The song was sentimental, and he locked it away, wondering at the
+time whether she really had an unfortunate affection for Lord Reckage.
+But in reading her note that evening he decided against his original
+fear. Women did not write in that strain to men whom they loved, or had
+ever loved ... even passably well. He returned it to the owner with this
+comment--
+
+"A woman, you know, is like your shadow: run away from her and she
+follows you; run after her and she flies from you. That's an old saying.
+It is true so long as she does not love the man. And when she loves the
+man--well, then she ceases to be a shadow. She becomes a living thing."
+
+"That is no answer at all. If you could read her heart and whole thought
+at this moment, what would you see there?"
+
+"Unhappiness," said Robert; "discontent."
+
+Reckage took the little sheet and folded it into his pocket-book.
+
+"That's wonderful," said he, "because the same things are in my mind,
+too. I wish I could describe my feelings about Agnes. She satisfies the
+aesthetic side of my nature. But there is another side. And Sara comes
+nearer to it than she. Mind you, I know my duty in the matter. There are
+things which one is compelled to do under tremendous penalties. I have
+chosen, and I must abide by my choice."
+
+Robert looked well at his friend, and saw, in his expression, all that
+he had known would inevitably, either soon or too late, work to the
+surface.
+
+"Yet the old tremulous affection lies in me," continued Reckage; "my
+nerves are in a kind of blaze. You couldn't tell anything about it,
+because you don't know."
+
+The Emperor's burgundy, no doubt, had warmed his spirit to
+communicativeness. He drew his chair closer to the table, and talked in
+a low voice about his ghastly solitude of soul. His engagement to Miss
+Carillon had not been an agreeable experience.
+
+"And marriage," said he, "will be the crowning point of these unbearable
+days. In the present state of my feelings it would be awful. Agnes is
+very kind and most conscientious, but she does not know what is in me,
+what was always and will always be there. Old reminiscences crowd round
+me. They are very beautiful, although they are so sad."
+
+"What is one to do?" said Robert, "in the presence of fate and facts? It
+is necessary to look the affair in the face. Do you, or don't you, wish
+to marry Miss Carillon?"
+
+"I do, and I don't," answered Reckage doggedly. "But I can't close my
+eyes to the circumstances of the case. I found myself hard bested from
+the very beginning. I knew that I was expected to marry her. I knew,
+too, that it was a suitable match in every way. But then every girl is,
+to some extent, accomplished, pious, virtuous, and intelligent. I
+believe sometimes that my apparent indifference towards Agnes arises
+from the fact that I respect her--if anything--too much. She seems too
+remote--that is the word--for the ordinary wear and tear of domesticity.
+Other men--who might be called impassioned lovers--would be less
+scrupulous. I maintain that devotion of that violent kind is worth
+absolutely nothing. And I claim to know a little about life and love."
+
+"I should say," said Orange, "that you knew more about mere physiology."
+
+Reckage laughed uneasily.
+
+"You keep your mediaeval views!" said he. "Perhaps I envy you. I can't
+say. I don't think I envy any one. I am quite contented."
+
+"Then what are you driving at?"
+
+"Oh well, a fellow must think. You see, Sara suits me, in a sense. I am
+not afraid of her. Now a wife is a sacred object. You might as well
+flirt with the Ten Commandments as fall in love with your wife. I say,
+never begin love-making with the lady you hope to marry. It will end in
+disaster. Because the day must come when she will wonder why you have
+changed. No, a wife should be the one woman in the world with whom you
+can spend days and weeks of unreproved coldness."
+
+They were now smoking, and the tobacco seemed to produce a
+tranquillising effect upon his lordship. He closed his lips and amused
+himself by puffing rings of smoke into the air. When he next spoke, he
+suggested a visit to the theatre. He had engaged a box for the new
+burlesque, "_The Blue Princess_."
+
+"It will be very good, and it will cheer us up," said he.
+
+Orange was in no mood for the entertainment, but Reckage's evident
+misery seemed to require a fresh scene. The streets, as they left the
+house, were full of a deep purple fog, through which shone out, with a
+dull and brazen gleam, the lights of lamps and passing carriages. Above
+them, the sky was but a pall or vapour; the air, charged with the
+emotions, the struggling energy, the cruelty, confusion, painfulness,
+and unceasing agitation of life in a vast city, was damp and stifling; a
+noise of traffic--as loud but not so terrible as a breaking
+storm--destroyed the peace of night; there were foot passengers of every
+age and description moving like rooks in the wind, over the pavement,
+and vehicles filled with men and women--an irremediable pilgrimage
+bound, for the greater part, on pleasure. Robert felt that he would have
+given gladly the treasures of a universe for just the time to think a
+little while of his own love. So far that great attachment had brought
+him aberrations, sorrow, and perplexities; all its sweetness had flown,
+moth-like, into his heart, there to be burnt--burnt yet left unburied:
+all its happiness had glorified his life against his will; all its
+beauty had been starved with a pitiless rigour. What then had remained?
+A certain state of mind--a passionate resignation to its own
+indomitable cravings. And now on the eve of his marriage--a marriage
+never so much as imagined, far less hoped for--he could not have the
+leisure to behold, through tears of relief, the complete transformation
+of his destiny--once so frightful, now so joyous. The theatre was
+crowded, and when the two young men entered their box the burlesque was
+at the beginning of the second act. The scene represented an orange
+grove by moonlight, and a handsome girl in spangled muslin was
+whispering loudly, to an accompaniment of harps, her eternal fidelity to
+a gesticulating troubadour. Both performers were immensely popular, and
+the duet, with its refrain--
+
+    "Love, I will love thee always,
+      For ever is not too long;
+    Love, e'en in dark and dreary days,
+      This shall be my one song,"
+
+was repeated three times to the smiling, serene, and thoroughly
+convinced audience. Reckage, who attended public places of amusement
+solely from the desire of exhibiting himself, gave but a side-glance at
+the stage and turned his opera glass upon the auditorium.
+
+"Really, town is very full," said he; "I suppose many of them are up for
+the Hauconberg wedding. There's old Cliddesdon--just look at him. Did
+you ever see such an infernal ass? Hullo! I thought that Millie
+Warfield wouldn't be far off. She's a perfect rack of bones. Lady
+Michelmarsh is getting rather pretty--it's wonderful how these dowdy
+girls can work up their profiles after a month or two in town. She was a
+lump as a bride--a regular lump. You never met anything like it. Aumerle
+is talking to her now. He was at the Capitol this afternoon. He begins
+to give himself airs. I can't stand him. In fact, I cannot understand
+those fellows on my sub-committee. Sometimes they are--if anything--too
+civil. A bit servile, in fact. Then they turn out and look as though
+they would like to make their teeth meet in my backbone. They sulk, and
+whisper in groups, and snicker. I am getting sick of it. I must get rid
+of them. By Jove! there's David Rennes, the painter. I thought he was at
+Amesbury--with the Carillons, doing Agnes's portrait. It can't be
+finished. She said distinctly in her letter this morning--"I may not add
+more because I have to give Mr. Rennes a sitting while the light is
+good." Where's the letter? I must have left it on the breakfast-table.
+Anyhow that is what she said. I'll catch Rennes' eye and have him up. He
+is not a bad sort."
+
+The act-drop had now descended, the lights were turned on to their full
+power, and Orange, following the direction of Reckage's gaze, saw, in
+the last row of the stalls, a large man about nine-and-thirty with an
+emotional, nervous face, a heavy beard, and dense black hair. He was
+leaning forward, for the seat in front of him was, at the moment,
+vacant; his hands were tightly locked, his eyes fixed on the curtain. At
+last Reckage's determined stare produced its effect. He moved, glanced
+toward the box, and, in response to his lordship's signal, left his
+place. Two minutes later Orange heard a tap at the door.
+
+"That's right," said Reckage, as Rennes entered, "take Orange's chair.
+He doesn't care a bit about the play, or anything in it. He is going to
+get married to-morrow. You know Robert Orange, don't you? You ought to
+paint him. Saint Augustine with a future. _Mon devoir, mes livres, et
+puis ... et puis, madame, ma femme._"
+
+The Emperor's burgundy, indeed, had not been opened in vain. Rennes
+could talk well, sometimes brilliantly, often with originality, and,
+with the tact of all highly sensitive beings, he led the conversation
+into impersonal themes. He said Miss Carillon's portrait was not yet
+finished, but he changed that subject immediately, and the evening,
+which had been to Orange a trial of patience, ended rather better than
+it began. Lord Reckage invited Rennes to accompany them home. The artist
+did not appear, at first, in the mood to accept that invitation. He,
+too, seemed to have many things he wished to think about undisturbed,
+and in the silence of his own company. His hesitation passed, however;
+the kindness in his nature had been roused by something unusual,
+haunting, ominous in Robert's face.
+
+"I will come," said he.
+
+All the way, on their walk to Almouth House, he kept Reckage amused.
+Orange never once felt under the necessity to speak. He was able to
+dream, to hold his breath, to remember that he loved and was loved
+again, that he would see her to-morrow--to-morrow quite early, and then,
+no more unutterable farewells, heart-desolating separations. He
+surprised himself by saying aloud--"I love you ... I love you." The two
+men, engrossed in talk, did not hear him. But he had caught the words,
+and it seemed as though he heard his own voice for the first time.
+
+"You must want some supper," said Reckage--"a rum omelette."
+
+"No! no! I couldn't."
+
+He sat down to the table, however, and watched them eat. First the
+burlesque was discussed, then the actresses, the dresses, the dancing.
+
+"Russia is the place for dancing," said Reckage, "I assure you. There
+was a dancer at Petersburg.... Something-or-other-_ewski_ was her name,
+and a fellow shot himself while I was there on her account. An awful
+fool. I can tell you who painted her portrait. A Frenchman called
+Carolus-Duran. I believe he has a career before him. What is your
+opinion of French art?"
+
+Rennes had studied in Paris and was well acquainted with the artist in
+question. They talked about the exhibitions of the year and the prices
+paid at a recent sale of pictures.
+
+"Old Garrow has some fine pictures," said Reckage. "I would give a good
+deal for his Ghirlandajo. Do you know it? And then that noble Tintoret?
+There are so many persons whose position in life compels them to
+encourage art without having any real enjoyment of it. Garrow is one of
+those persons. But his daughter, Lady Sara, has a touch of genius. She's
+a musician. You have heard her play, haven't you, Robert?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Robert had, at that instant, observed upon the mantelpiece a letter
+addressed to himself. It was from Brigit. He grew pale, and retired,
+with the little envelope lightly written on, to a far corner of the
+room. For some moments he could not break the seal. The sight of her
+writing filled him with a kind of agony--something beyond his control,
+beyond his comprehension. What did it mean--this tightening of the
+heart, this touch of fear, and love, and fear again, so deep that the
+whole web of life trembled and its strings grew confused one with
+another, and all was anguish, darkness, self-renunciation, and a wild, a
+dreadful mystery of human influence? At last he opened the letter.
+
+     "MY DEAREST," it began, "I can never say all that I wish to say,
+     because when I am with you I forget everything and watch your face.
+     When I am away from you I forget your face, and I long to see it
+     again in order that I may remember it more perfectly! It is so hard
+     not to think of you too often. But I have had a great deal of
+     sorrow, and everything I have in the world--except you--is a grief.
+     I know that we are not born to be happy, and so, I wonder, have we
+     stolen our happiness? If it is a gift--I know not what to do with
+     it. I cannot speak a happy language: the atmosphere is strange and
+     frightens me. Dear Robert, I am terrified, uncertain, but when we
+     meet to-morrow you will give me courage. And then, as we shall not
+     part again, I need never again be, as I am now, too anxious. Your
+     BRIGIT."
+
+Reckage's voice broke in again.
+
+"I do wish you would try this rum omelette. It is capital."
+
+Orange laughed, but left the room. Rennes remarked that he had a
+powerful face.
+
+"Yes. He has a strong character. And he would never deceive another. But
+he deceives himself hourly--daily."
+
+"In what way?" asked Rennes.
+
+"He doesn't know," said Reckage, "what a devilish fine chap he is! I
+wish to God that I could prevent this marriage."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I say nothing against Mrs. Parflete. She's a high-class woman and so
+on. Awfully beautiful, too. As clever as they make 'em, and not a breath
+against her. All the same, I am not very sweet on love matches for men
+of Orange's calibre. They never answer--never."
+
+"I don't agree with you there," replied the artist, "because I believe
+that a love match--even when it dissolves, as it may, into a mistake--is
+the best thing that can happen to any man."
+
+After this they discussed bindings. Lord Reckage was the first amateur
+authority on the subject.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+At five the next morning Robert was writing letters. Then, as soon as
+the gates of Hyde Park were open, he walked out. The recurrence of
+familiar sentiments on the essentials that make up the condition known
+as happiness would neither convince, nor inspire, the powers of an
+imagination which, with all its richness, was, apart from the purely
+artistic faculty, analytical and foreboding. Self-doubt, however, has no
+part in passion. Of the many miseries it may bring, this, perhaps the
+worst of human woes, can never be in its train. Men in love--and women
+also--may distrust all things and all creatures, but their own emotion,
+like the storm, proves the reality of its force by the mischief it
+wreaks. Robert's spirit, borne along by this vehemence of feeling,
+caught the keen sweetness of the early air, not yet infected by the
+day's traffic. His melancholy--the inevitable melancholy produced by
+sustained thought on any subject, whether sublime or simple--was
+dispelled. The Park, which was empty but for a few men on their way to
+work, and runners anxious to keep in training, had its great trees
+still beautiful from the lingering glance of summer; the wide and misty
+stretches of grey grass were fresh in dew; the softness and
+haze--without the gloom--of autumn were in the atmosphere. The pride of
+love requited and the instincts of youth could not resist these spells
+of nature. Robert remembered only that it was his wedding-day: that
+every throb of his pulse and every second of time brought him nearer to
+the supreme joy of his life and the supreme moment. He had never used
+his nerves with bliss and tears, and he did not belong to the large army
+of young gentlemen who own themselves proudly
+
+    "Light half-believers of our casual creeds,
+    Who never deeply felt, nor clearly will'd....
+    Who hesitate and falter life away,
+    And lose to-morrow the ground won to-day."
+
+This view of heroism was not possible to him, and he was too strong in
+mind and body to pretend to it. The two things which affect a career
+most profoundly are religion, or the lack of it, and marriage--or not
+marrying; for these things only penetrate to the soul and make what may
+be called its perpetual atmosphere. The Catholic Faith, which ignores no
+single possibility in human feeling and no possible flight in human
+idealism, produces in those who hold it truly a freshness of heart very
+hard to be understood by the dispassionate critic who weighs character
+by the newest laws of his favourite degenerate, but never by the
+primeval tests of God. Robert, therefore, was thinking of his bride's
+face, the pure curves of her mouth, her sapphirine eyes, her pretty
+hands, her golden hair, the nose which others found fault with, which
+he, nevertheless, thought wholly delightful. He wondered what she would
+say and how she would look when they met. Would she be pale? Would she
+be frightened? There had always been a certain agony in every former
+meeting because of the farewell which had to follow. With all his habits
+of self-control, he had never been able to feel quite sure that the word
+too much would not be said, that the glance too long would not be given.
+Her own simplicity, he told himself, had saved him from disaster. She
+showed her affection so fearlessly--with such tender and discerning
+trust--that his worst struggles were in solitude--not in her presence at
+all. It was when he was away from her immediate peaceful influence that
+the fever, the restlessness, the torments and the desperation (has not
+old Burton summed up for us the whole situation and all the symptoms in
+his "_Anatomy_"?) had to be endured and conquered. These trials now--for
+even a sense of humour could not make them less than trials--were ended.
+The tragi-comic labour of walking too much and riding too much, working
+and smoking too much, thinking and sleeping too little--the whole dreary
+business, in fact, of stifling any absorbing idea or ruling passion,
+would be no more.
+
+When he returned to Almouth House, Reckage was already dressed for his
+official duties as "best man." He felt an unwonted and genuine
+excitement about Robert's marriage. He put aside the languor, _ennui_,
+and depression which he felt too easily on most occasions, and, that day
+at least, he was, as his own servant expressed it, "nervous and cut-up."
+
+"I shall miss the swimming, the boxing, the fencing, and the pistol
+practice," he complained, referring to diversions in which Orange was an
+expert and himself the bored but dutiful participant. "They nearly
+always drop these things when they marry." The loss he really feared was
+the moral support and affection of his former secretary--advantages
+which a selfish nature is slow to appreciate, yet most tenacious of when
+once convinced of their use. The nuptial mass had been fixed for eight
+o'clock, the wedding party were to breakfast at Almouth House
+afterwards, then the bride and groom were to leave by the mail for
+Southampton _en route_ for Miraflores in Northern France. The two young
+men drove together to the chapel attached to the Alberian Embassy. Not a
+word passed between them, but Reckage, under his eyelids, examined every
+detail of his friend's attire. He wondered at its satisfactoriness on
+the whole, inasmuch as Orange had not seen fit to consult him on the
+point. The church was small and grey and sombre; the flowers on the
+altar (sent by his lordship) were all white; their perfume filled the
+building.
+
+"They look very nice," said Reckage, "and in excellent taste. Some of
+these old pictures on the wall are uncommonly good, and I particularly
+like that bronze crucifix. Ten to one if it isn't genuine eleventh
+century. I will ask the old fellow afterwards. He's a dear. His Latin is
+lovely. It's an artistic pleasure to hear him read the Gospel. I looked
+in the other morning, just to get the run, as it were, of the place. By
+Jove! Here they are."
+
+Pensee Fitz Rewes came first--very graceful in lavender silk, and
+accompanied by her little boy, who showed by an unconscious anxiety of
+expression that he felt instinctively his mother's air of contentment
+was assumed. Then Baron Zeuill, with Brigit on his arm, followed. The
+Baron looked grave--too grave for the happy circumstances. Brigit seemed
+as pale as the lilies on the altar; she was less beautiful but more
+ethereal than usual. There was something frail, transparent,
+unsubstantial about her that day which Robert had never noticed before.
+Had the many emotional strains of the last year tried her delicate youth
+beyond endurance? She seemed very childish, too, and immature. She took
+Orange's hand when he met her, held it closely, and watched the others
+with a kind of wonder most pitiful to witness--as though she had
+suffered too much from her contact with life and could no more. Her eyes
+seemed darker than the sapphires to which Robert had so often compared
+them: this effect, he told himself, was due to the strong contrast given
+by the pallor of her face. It was quite clear, however, that she was
+not under the influence then of any dominant thought. Her nerves and
+senses were strained to that extreme tension resembling apathy, until
+the vibration given by some touch or tone sets the whole system
+trembling with all the spiritual and bodily forces which make the
+mystery of human life. She spoke her responses, signed the register, and
+walked out from the church on Robert's arm without a single change of
+countenance or token of feeling. As they drove away from the church, she
+flushed a little and drew far back, with a new timidity, into her
+corner. One look she gave of perfect love and confidence. She pressed
+his hand and held it, for a moment, against her cheek. But neither of
+them spoke. And indeed, what was there to be said? The identification of
+their two minds had been full and absolute from the moment of their
+first encounter long ago in Chambord. The accidental differences of sex
+and age, training, accomplishments, and education had not affected--and
+could not affect--a sympathy in temperament which depended--not on the
+similarity of opinions--but on a similarity of moral fibre. Many forms
+can be cut, by the same hand, from the same piece of marble, and
+although one may be a grotesque and the other a cross, one a pursuing
+goddess and the other an angel for a tomb, the same substance, light,
+touch, and colour will be characteristic of all four. Marriage, at best,
+could but give a certain crude emphasis to the strange spiritual bond
+which united these two beings. Practical as they both were in the common
+affairs of life, they shrank from anything which would promise to
+materialise the subtleties of the mind. Some thoughts, they felt, were
+as impalpable as sounds, and, just as music ceases to be divine when it
+is poured out of some mechanical contrivance, so the mysteries of the
+human soul become mere bodily conditions--more or less humiliating--when
+demonstrated, catalogued, and legalised. There is nothing modern nor
+uncommon in this especial disposition. One may describe it as ascetic,
+anaemic, sentimental, hysterical, neurotic; but the men and women who
+possess this fragile organism show, as a rule, powers of endurance and a
+strength of will by no means characteristic of the average sanguine and
+sensual creature who eats, drinks, fights, loves, and does his best in a
+world which he calls vile, yet would not renounce for all the ecstasies
+of Paradise.
+
+The carriage wheels rolled on--as swift and noiseless as the sand in an
+hour-glass. Why was the road so short? Why could they not be carried
+thus for ever, tranquil with happiness, wanting nothing, seeking
+nothing, bound no-whither? Foolish questions and a foolish longing: yet
+happiness consists in being able to formulate wishes with the serene
+knowledge that a better wisdom directs their fulfilment. Neither
+passers-by nor other vehicles, neither houses nor streets caught the
+entranced attention of these young lovers. The delight of being purely
+self-absorbed is very great and intoxicating to those who are
+constantly--either by desire or the force of circumstances--unselfish. A
+faint flush swept into Brigit's face under the effect of an experience
+so novel. Their twofold consciousness had all the pathos of
+self-effacement, and all the thrill of satisfied egoism. Such instants
+cannot last, and they are shortest when one's habits of thought are
+antagonistic to such luxury. Brigit sighed deeply, and roused herself
+with a painful sense that the minute she wilfully cut short had been the
+sweetest in her life.
+
+"Pensee," she said, "has been so kind to me. She gave me her room at
+Wight House last night. She had the little dressing-room just off it.
+Did you notice her dress? She was very anxious that you should like it."
+
+"She seemed all right," said Robert; "and wasn't Reckage splendid?"
+
+Having spoilt their perfect moment, they became as mere mortals, more at
+ease in this planet, where complete joy has an unfamiliar mien. Brigit's
+actual physical beauty returned. The sunshine stole in at the open
+window and lit up her golden hair, which was half hidden by a hat with
+white plumes. She looked down at her hand with its new wedding ring, and
+was pleasantly aware of Robert's admiration.
+
+"I am so glad," she exclaimed, "that you think my hand is nice. Because
+I have given it to you for all time. And if you are ever tired, or
+discouraged, or unhappy, or lonely, and you want me, I shall come to
+you."
+
+"But you will be with me now always."
+
+"Yes," she answered. "Yes, Robert, always."
+
+They had now reached Almouth House. Her little foot, with its arched
+instep, seemed too slight and delicate for the pavement. Robert knew
+that her arm rested upon his, because he felt it trembling. They crossed
+the threshold together. The doors closed after them.
+
+"And he never once kissed her on the way from church!" exclaimed the
+footman.
+
+But the coachman did not think this very peculiar. "I don't hold with
+kissing," said he; "to my mind there's nothing in it. Kissing is for
+boys and gals--not for men and wives."
+
+Baron Zeuill was unable to join them all at breakfast, but Pensee, and
+Reckage, and David Rennes (who had been especially invited the night
+before because he had proved so entertaining), did more than their duty
+as friends by talking feverishly, eating immoderately, and affecting the
+conventional joyousness universally thought proper at such times. Pensee
+ventured to make a reference to the forthcoming marriage of the "best
+man," and expressed the faltering hope that "dear Agnes would be as
+happy as dear Brigit." Reckage scowled. Rennes was seized with a fit of
+coughing. It was the one unlucky hit in the whole conversation, and it
+was soon forgotten by every one present except Orange, who remembered
+it frequently in later days. At last the hour for departure came.
+Pensee, weeping, kissed Brigit on both cheeks, looked into her grave
+eyes long and lovingly, put her arms around the slight, girlish form
+with that exquisite, indefinable tenderness, unconscious,
+unpremeditated, and protective, which married women show toward very
+youthful brides. Robert handed his wife into the brougham, the order was
+given "To Waterloo," the horses started, rice and slippers were thrown.
+
+"They go into the world for the first time," exclaimed Rennes.
+
+Then Pensee was assisted into the barouche, and drove homewards.
+
+"We shall meet again," she said, as she parted from Reckage; "we meet at
+Sara's at lunch."
+
+The two men were thus left alone. They decided to smoke, for they were
+both a little affected by the pathos of the situation.
+
+"Explain Robert," said his lordship, as they returned to the
+dining-room, "explain that kind of love. You are an artist."
+
+"Well, it isn't my way," rejoined the other, with a forced laugh, "but
+there are many manifestations of personal magnetism."
+
+"This kind is very interesting," said Reckage, "although it is, of
+course, high-flown. Orange is romantic and scrupulous--he knows next to
+nothing of the sensual life; and that next to nothing is merely a source
+of disgust and remorse. You follow me?"
+
+"Perfectly," said Rennes. "It is a question of temperament. The wonder
+is that he has not entered, in some delirium of renunciation, the
+priesthood."
+
+"That would mean, for his gifts, a closed career. It beats my wits to
+guess how this marriage will turn out. He is madly in love. He has
+suffered frightfully. Too much moral anguish has a depraving effect in
+the long run."
+
+"I am not so sure of that."
+
+"I think so, at any rate. Now many a decent sort of fellow can get along
+well enough--if he has a woman to his taste and wine which he considers
+good. You observe I condense the situation as much as possible. But
+Orange is different."
+
+"Not so different--except in degree, or experience. At present, he
+oscillates between the woe of love and the joy of life. You compared him
+to St. Augustine. St. Augustine never pretended that earthly happiness
+was a delusion. He knew better. He said, 'Do not trust it, but seek the
+happiness which hath no end.' Personally, I can accept with gratitude as
+much as I can get. 'Is not the life of men upon earth all trial, without
+any interval?' This may be; yet it is something to learn how to
+sympathise with happiness. Our best men and women devote themselves too
+exclusively to the diagnosis of misery."
+
+"You have thought a lot, I can see," said Reckage.
+
+The artist gave him a quick, friendly glance.
+
+"I have played the fool," said he. "I envy Orange. He will know things
+that I can never know--now. I haven't lived up to my thoughts. I am not
+remorseful--I don't believe in remorse. It is a thing for the
+half-hearted. But if I am not sad, I am not especially gay. The middle
+course between sentimentality and gallantry seems to me intimately
+immoral and ridiculous into the bargain. So I am an idealist with
+senses. There are times when I hate life. And why? Because life is evil?
+By no means; but because we tell lies about it, and write lies about it,
+from morning till night."
+
+"You seem a bit depressed," said Lord Reckage. "But, by the by, how is
+the portrait going? My brother Hercy, who paints a little, always
+declared that Agnes was unpaintable. Do you find her unpaintable?"
+
+"No," said Rennes; "oh no!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+When Reckage asked Rennes whether he found Miss Carillon "unpaintable,"
+the artist was conscious of a swift, piercing emotion, which passed,
+indeed, but left an ache. And as the day advanced the smart of the wound
+grew more intense. A visit to the National Gallery, a call at his
+tailor's, an inspection of maps at his club, afforded little relief to
+the indefinable misery. He was tortured by the disingenuousness of his
+own mind. He had done so much, and thought so much, and read so much; he
+could give so many scientific reasons for each idea and each movement of
+his mental and physical being, that the joy of life had been cut up in
+its machinery. He had lost the power of being natural either in his
+pains or his pleasures. He knew all the answers, but not one of the
+questions which trouble youth. He had never wondered at anything.
+Wonder--the lovely mistress of wisdom--had taught him none of her
+secrets. Dead certainty had dogged his steps from his first appearance
+on this unknowable world. Once, when a very little boy, he admired a
+vase full of pink roses. "They will keep twice as long," said his
+nurse, "in dirty water. It is such a waste to put fresh water on roses!"
+This remark--slight in itself--remained in his memory as the first
+truth--the Logos, in fact--from which all other truths generated. He was
+now nine-and-thirty: he had executed an abnormal amount of work, and he
+had a just reputation as a portrait-painter. His technical skill was
+considered unique. The something lacking was that mysteriousness which
+belongs to all great art, and is, essentially, in life.
+
+"Rennes," said one of his friends, "can work for sixteen hours a day. It
+is all taken from without. He gives nothing except his undivided
+attention." The saying was not true; he gave himself absolutely--soul,
+brain, and heart--to his task, but the gift was too premeditated,
+too accurately weighed. There was no self-abandonment, nor
+self-forgetfulness. His admiration for Miss Carillon had been of this
+kind. Having added up her attractions, her figure, her face, her youth,
+her intelligence, her grace, he decided that she was exceptional in many
+ways. He found real happiness in her society--she was so sane, so clear,
+so unaffected. His attitude toward her had remained for some time one of
+fraternal affection, partly by force of will, chiefly because his
+relations with other women were not so restrained. But the position was
+changing. Certain forces in life were assuming for him a complicated and
+threatening aspect. What if, after all, there was an incalculable
+element in man?
+
+"Now to be practical," he said to himself. He had not seen his mother
+for a fortnight. She lived in Kensington Square. "I must really go and
+see my mother!" The cab drove quickly; the little grey house was soon
+reached. David opened the door with his latch-key and rushed upstairs
+into the small drawing-room, furnished in white and green, with fresh
+flowers on the mantelpiece, and many shelves of vellum-bound books. A
+bronze lamp hung from the ceiling, and its globe, covered in violet
+silk, cast a light like that of the early dawn in hilly regions. A faint
+odour of lavender filled the air. In one corner of the room there was a
+chess-table with its chessmen showing an interrupted game. A velvet
+footstool, much indented by the pressure of a firm foot, stood in front
+of the carved armchair in which Mrs. Rennes usually sat. Her
+work-basket, lined with blue satin and shining with steel fittings,
+stood in its customary place on a gipsy stool near the fireplace. A few
+old English prints hung on the walls, and between the windows there was
+a Chippendale cabinet filled with Worcester and Crown Derby china. The
+aspect of all things was restful, emotionless, and some of its calm
+seemed to overtake and soothe David's agitated spirit. He sat down at
+the piano and played, with much passion, bits from Wagner's "_Tristan_,"
+the first performance of which he had seen at Munich. "Good Heavens!" he
+thought. "What a genius! What a soul! What a phrase!" Suddenly the door
+opened and Agnes Carillon was ushered in. She hesitated a second, and
+then recognised Rennes, who had his back to the light. Her first
+instinct was to retreat; her first feeling was a strange sensation of
+pleasure and fear. His usually cold and wearied face took an expression
+of controlled but unmistakable delight. She blushed, though not with
+resentment, yet she avoided, by appearing to have some difficulty with
+her muff, his outstretched hand.
+
+"I have called on your mother," said she. "I thought you would be on
+your way to Rome."
+
+Her lips were red and rather full: her cheeks were pink, her throat and
+brows were white. Her demeanour was, while modest, neither shy nor
+self-conscious. David was struck by her height and the extreme
+slightness of her figure. She wore a large Gainsborough hat with long
+plumes, a black gown, and a collar of old _point de Venise_. She had
+come up from the country, and her presence brought its freshness.
+
+"Why are you in town?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"I was bored at home."
+
+"And the trousseau?"
+
+"The trousseau?" she said, lifting her eyes for the first time to his.
+
+"They say it is unlucky to try on your wedding-dress," he continued,
+seeking relief in the very torture of reminding himself that the date of
+her marriage with Lord Reckage was fixed.
+
+"I never think about luck," she answered.
+
+"I met Reckage at the play last night. I lunched with him to-day," said
+Rennes.
+
+"I am so glad that you are friends. I want you to like him."
+
+"No doubt he thinks me mad. Politicians always regard artists as
+madmen."
+
+"But Beauclerk is considered very cultured. I hate the word. He is
+interested in art."
+
+"No doubt--as a means of investment, an educational influence, or a
+topic of conversation for light moments."
+
+"You are severe. Yet I like to hear you talk."
+
+She hoped that his talk would drown the singing in her heart, the
+whispering in her ears, the footsteps of doubt--doubt of herself, doubt
+of Reckage, coming nearer and nearer. She had been taught everything.
+She had discovered nothing. Love itself had come to her in the shape of
+a cruel code of responsibilities. Lately she had been dwelling with an
+almost feverish emphasis on the question of duty. She had wearied
+Reckage; she had exhausted herself by the tenacity of her mind toward
+that dull subject. And the real truth about much in life was forcing
+itself upon her. She was essentially a woman of affairs. Her face
+absorbed the poetry of her nature, just as a flower extracts every
+excellence from its surrounding soil, and, shining out for the sun,
+wastes no blossom underground. It had been her earliest ambition to
+marry a Member of Parliament and help him--by her prayers and
+counsel--on his conscientious career toward Downing Street. She had
+received an austere education, and even her native generosity of heart
+could not soften the indignation she had been trained to feel against
+any neglect of duty. Duty was a term which she applied to that science
+of things generally expedient which tradition has presented to us in the
+household proverbs and maxims of every nation. Early rising, controlling
+one's temper, paying one's debts, consideration for others, working
+while it is day, taking stitches in time--all these to that orthodox
+mind were matters of imperative obligation, if not Divine command.
+David's impulsive nature and self-indulgent habits filled her with
+overwhelming sorrow and dismay. She could not understand the rapid
+changes of mood, the disordered views, the storm and violence which are
+characteristic of every artist whose work is a form of autobiography
+rather than a presentment of impersonal forms and effects.
+
+In Rennes there were two principles constantly at work: the David who
+acted, and the David who observed, criticised, and reproduced in
+allegorical guise, the inspiring performance. Agnes knew nothing of this
+common phenomenon in creative genius, and when her friend refreshed his
+imagination by appearing in a new _role_, she was as terrified as a
+child before some clever trick in experimental chemistry. From time to
+time he expressed opinions which startled her. She begged him once to
+paint a "religious" picture. He would not. A feeling that she had
+experienced some bitter disappointment weighed upon her spirit. Yet when
+she seemed to give that disappointment a cause, she was careful to leave
+it in obscurity. She would not permit herself to think, and, pale with
+suffering, she would check the painful questions which rose already
+answered. Her affection for Rennes was one of those serious passions
+which sometimes take root in an unsentimental nature, and derive a
+strength from philosophy which romantic considerations, pleasant as they
+are, can never bestow. Romance will add a magical delight to the
+pleasures of existence, but for the burden of the day one needs a
+sobriety of thought which would ring singularly flat in a love-lyric,
+which is certainly opposed to those emotions which produce what is
+commonly regarded as interesting behaviour. Agnes had not been drawn to
+Rennes at first sight, but rather by degrees and against her better
+judgment. She had found him unstable and affected; on the other hand,
+she admired his fine figure, his talent, his conversation, and the fire
+in his brilliant eyes. She told herself that she was deeply anxious
+about his soul, but, in a crowd, she watched for his broad shoulders and
+his handsome face. Such was her friendship, and she had known him for
+two years. Her first season had been a startling success. She had the
+misery of rejecting several suitors of whom her father fully
+approved--one was an Archdeacon. She had been drawn more than kindly
+toward a consumptive violinist whom she had met at a Saturday
+entertainment for the poor at Kensal Green. Not a single word of love
+ever passed between them. He called once or twice at her aunt's house in
+Chester Square, and they had played together some of Corelli's sonatas.
+Her aunt carried her away to Brighton, and no more was heard of the
+young violinist till a rumour reached them that he was drinking himself
+to death at St. Moritz. Agnes said many prayers for him. At last a
+second rumour reached her that the first was wholly incorrect. He had
+married a very nice girl with a lot of money and was building a villa at
+Cannes. Agnes told herself that she was thankful to hear it. The next
+year she became engaged to a young Member of Parliament with really fine
+prospects. She was not in love, but she liked him better than all her
+friends. She felt serene, and at last useful. Then a story reached her
+about another woman, and yet another woman before that one. The story
+was true and not at all pretty. The Bishop was obliged to support his
+daughter in her refusal to regard matters in what her betrothed
+described as a sane and reasonable manner. He had sinned and he was
+sorry, and what was more, he had every desire to reform. But Agnes
+remained firm, although she had probably never been so nearly in love
+with him as she was on the day when she returned all his charming
+letters and the ring and his photograph. It was a trying moment. She
+was ordered abroad, and she spent the winter at Rome, where she read
+ancient history and visited churches and excited a great deal of
+admiration. Mrs. Rennes and David were also at Rome. The three met at
+the house of an irreproachable Marchesa. They became friends. Miss
+Carillon's aunt, who was a maiden lady with means, succumbed to the
+fascinating eloquence of an amateur _connoisseur_ of antique gems. In
+her new character of _fiancee_, she found it inconvenient to chaperon a
+young niece. She joined a widowed friend, and gladly assented to the
+suggestion that dear Agnes should visit Mrs. Rennes in Paris. The Bishop
+saw no impediment to the plan. He had been at Oxford with the late
+Archibald Rennes, an odd fellow but high-minded. Mrs. Rennes was the
+daughter of a General Hughes-Drummond. Every one knew the
+Hughes-Drummonds. They were very good people indeed. The Bishop hoped
+that Agnes would enjoy herself, give her kind friend as little trouble
+as possible, and come home fully restored in spirits. He forgot David.
+It may be that others omitted to mention him. The Bishop was not pleased
+when the rumour reached him that this artist was included in the party.
+What were his habits? What were his prospects? Were his artistic talents
+such that he might reasonably hope to become a Royal Academician and
+maintain an establishment? What _class_ of pictures did he paint? Were
+they lofty in tone? Did they exalt and purify the mind? Would they make
+good engravings--such engravings as one might hang on one's walls? The
+correspondence and the questions were endless. David spent a week end at
+the Episcopal Palace, and behaved so well that he became frightened at
+his own capabilities for John Bullism. He was a little annoyed, too, to
+find himself at ease in a British home circle. The Bishop was, at all
+events, satisfied. Agnes was enchanted, and, transfigured by unconscious
+passion, looked more beautiful than ever. David enjoyed the services in
+the cathedral; he liked the quiet Sunday afternoon, he was impressed by
+Dr. Carillon's real earnestness in the pulpit. The visit was a great
+success. Before he left, he begged Agnes to write to him "when she could
+spare the time." The young man had tried everything except a Platonic
+friendship with a lovely girl. He fancied that he found in Agnes
+Carillon that purity coupled with magnetism which makes such experiments
+attractive. They corresponded regularly, but they did not meet again for
+several months. When he returned, a little tired of platonism,
+letter-writing, intellectuality, and longing a great deal for the sight
+of her face, he found her engaged to Lord Reckage. So nature revenges
+itself. He detected a certain triumph and also a certain deep reproach
+in her gaze. She insisted that she was more than happy, but something
+under these words seemed to murmur--"You have spoilt our lives." Her
+manner, nevertheless, never altered. She was invariably sympathetic,
+gracious, delicately emotional. In letters she signed herself, "Yours
+affectionately, Agnes Carillon."
+
+"How I should like to paint you in this light!" he said, all at once.
+"That is the dress I love best. Don't wear it often." The remark was
+slight enough as a pretty speech within the bounds of flirtation, but
+the tone in which he uttered it meant more, and the girl's womanly
+instinct told her that the dangerous limit in their "friendship" had
+been reached. He saw her turn pale. She looked away from him, and
+swallowed thoughts which were far more bitter than any words she could
+have spoken.
+
+"You never used to say these things," she exclaimed at last; "why do you
+say them now?"
+
+"I thought them--always," he answered. "But I am a Pagan. I tried to
+keep my Paganism for others, and what you would call 'the best in me'
+for you. You may be able to understand. Anyhow, I made a mistake--a
+terrible mistake. It was a false position, and I couldn't maintain it.
+Now I don't even want to maintain it. Then it was a kind of vanity. I
+mean that time when I was at the Palace. I had been reading a lot of
+beautiful unreal stuff about the soul. I thought I had reached a very
+high place. Of course I had--because nothing is higher or purer than
+real human love. But I wouldn't call it love. So I went abroad, and
+wrote any amount of 'literature' to you. And all the time Reckage was
+here--asking you, wisely enough, to marry him. And you, wisely enough,
+accepted him."
+
+Agnes sat still, with her eyes down, cold, silent, forbidding. She did
+not understand him. She had neither the knowledge of life, nor the
+imagination, which could make such understanding possible. But she saw
+in his look that he loved her, that he was unhappy. She knew that
+Reckage had never shown so much feeling. Yet had she not given her word
+to Reckage? Was it not irrevocable? Was Rennes behaving well in speaking
+out--too late? Was it too late? A torrent of questions poured into her
+mind. She dragged off her gloves, and spread out her hands, which were
+slim and white, and stared at her sapphire engagement ring.
+
+"A weak man submits to destiny," said Rennes, "a strong one makes his
+own. It is what we think of ourselves which determines our fate. If I
+regard myself as a poor creature, I shall, no doubt, act the part of a
+poor creature. But," he added, with an ironical smile, "it is never too
+late to give up one's prejudices. I can't stand by and look on any
+longer. I intend to leave England for some years. I hope we may never
+meet again. Don't answer me, because there is nothing for you to say.
+You have been perfectly kind, perfectly charming, perfectly consistent.
+You have never deceived me and you have never deceived yourself."
+
+She interrupted him:
+
+"I hope not. Oh, I hope I have never deceived myself--or you."
+
+"I was grateful for your friendship," he said. "I can't be grateful for
+it now."
+
+Agnes drew a long breath and murmured random words about the "time." Was
+it getting late?
+
+"Yes," replied Rennes, "too late. Did I ever tell you why my father,
+with all his prospects, became a drawing-master? He told me that he had
+suffered so much learning why he could never paint, nor hope to paint,
+that he was determined to devote his knowledge to the service of
+apprentices. It seemed to him such an awful thing to mistake one's
+vocation. Now I feel that one of us--perhaps both of us, you and I, are
+doing even a worse thing. We are deliberately throwing happiness to the
+dogs."
+
+"I don't think so," said Agnes, in a trembling voice. "There is duty,
+you know; that is something higher than happiness, I believe."
+
+"Are you so sure?"
+
+"Oh, yes!"
+
+"I envy you. I don't even know what you mean by duty. It seems to me
+another name for the tyranny of false sentiment."
+
+"Don't disturb my ideas," she exclaimed, with an appealing gesture.
+"Don't say these things. They make me wretched. I can't afford to doubt
+and question. One must have a few permanent rules of conduct."
+
+"But if they are fantastic, capricious, insincere?"
+
+"I can't argue. I am not clever. I will not change my views. I dare not.
+It would make me hate you."
+
+"You are the slave of convention."
+
+"That may be. That is safer, after all, than being the slave of some
+other will stronger than my own. Why do you try to disturb my
+life--now--after so many really happy months of friendship?"
+
+"Were they so happy? Agnes, were they happy?"
+
+She hesitated.
+
+"Yes," she said, at last; "relatively, yes."
+
+"It is quite true. Good women drive us to the bad ones."
+
+"Oh! what can you mean? Surely we are saying too much. We shall reproach
+ourselves later. I live, again and again, through one conversation. The
+phrases come into my mind with every possible shade of significance."
+
+She pushed back her hat, and pressed her hand to her brow, which was
+contracting nervously as she spoke.
+
+"I don't wish to be altered by any change in principle," she continued,
+"nor distracted, from my plain obligations, into other interests. I
+daresay I sound quite heartless and odd. I daresay you won't like me any
+more." Her voice faltered, but her lips remained precise. "But one must
+know one's mind--one _must_. You don't know yours; that is the whole
+trouble, David."
+
+She had never called him by his Christian name before, and now the
+forced sternness of her tone gave it almost the accent of a farewell.
+
+"Perhaps we have helped each other," she went on; "at all events, you
+have taught me how to look at things. You are clever and original and
+all that. I am rather commonplace, and I never have new or surprising
+thoughts. The more I learn, the more I grow attached to the ordinary
+ways. Once you called me the ideal _bourgeoise_. You were right."
+
+"Not entirely," said Rennes. "You think too much."
+
+"You taught me that. I never used to consider people or notions. I
+accepted them without criticism."
+
+"The madness of criticism has entered into you," he said. "It is the
+worst, most destructive thing on earth."
+
+"How could I have accepted you--as my friend--without it?" she asked.
+"You puzzled me. I tried to understand you. No one had ever puzzled me
+before. No one, you may be quite sure, will ever puzzle me, in the same
+degree, again."
+
+She gave him a long, tearful glance, in which defiance, reproach,
+determination, and a certain cruelty shone like iron under water. He
+made a movement toward her. The strength of his more emotional nature
+might have made a final assault--not uselessly--on her assumed
+"reasonableness." No appeal, no threat could have moved her from the
+mental attitude she had decided on--the duty of keeping her word to Lord
+Reckage. But she might have been urged to the more candid course of
+ascertaining how far his lordship's true happiness was really involved
+in the question. At that moment, however, Mrs. Rennes came into the
+room. She gave a little cry of surprise when she saw her son. Then she
+kissed Agnes, and sat down, looking anxiously from one to the other with
+something not unlike grief, not unlike jealousy.
+
+Her life and habits of thought were simple, but she had been highly
+educated. She was an accomplished linguist, a good musician, a most
+intelligent companion. Things which she could not comprehend she would,
+at least, accept on faith. There had never been the shadow of a quarrel
+between David and herself. But she felt, by intuition, that Agnes
+Carillon had, in some way, affected his life, his work, his whole
+nature. She could not blame her, because she knew nothing definite about
+the understanding which existed, plainly enough, between her son and
+this young lady. She had a horror, however, of flirtation and flirts. It
+seemed to her that, under all this talk and correspondence on art,
+poetry, scenery, and the like, there was a strong under-current of
+emotion. So she smiled upon Agnes with a certain reserve, as though she
+were not quite sure whether she had any great reason to feel delighted
+at her call. At a glance from David, however, her look softened into
+real friendliness.
+
+"I was so surprised to see Mr. Rennes here," said Agnes.
+
+"I am surprised, too," said the older woman.
+
+A restraint fell upon all three. David walked about the room, looking
+for things he did not want, and asking questions he did not wish
+answered, although he hoped they would interest his mother. But his
+spirits soon flagged. The conversation became trivial and absurd.
+
+"Where are you staying?" asked Mrs. Rennes.
+
+"I am with Pensee Fitz Rewes," said Agnes; "she has gone in the carriage
+to do a little shopping. She will send it here for me."
+
+The carriage was at that instant announced. David went down the stairs
+with Agnes and handed her in. He said nothing. Mrs. Rennes watched the
+pair from the window and nodded her farewell with much gravity. When
+David returned to her, he found her reading peacefully Trollope's last
+novel. It was for these graces that he loved her most. He scribbled
+letters at her writing-table for the next hour. Then he spoke--
+
+"I am going," said he, "to the East. I need a change. I suppose it will
+mean six months."
+
+"But how you will enjoy it!"
+
+"And what will you do?"
+
+"I live from day to day, my dear. I am quite contented."
+
+"This journey is not a mere caprice. I have been contemplating it for
+some time," he said.
+
+Mrs. Rennes' hair was white and her long, equine countenance, sallow.
+When her feelings were stirred, she showed it only by a cloudy pallor
+which would steal over her face as a kind of veil--separating her from
+the rest of mortals.
+
+"One has to get away from England," continued Rennes: "one has to get
+away from one's self."
+
+"And where is your self now?" she asked, not venturing to look at him.
+
+"With that girl," he answered, suddenly; "with that girl."
+
+"Do you love her?"
+
+"I don't know. I suppose I do. Oh! I would love her if I could ever be
+absolutely sincere. But this I do know--I can't see her married to that
+fellow Reckage. So I must go away."
+
+"I am afraid she is a coquette--a serious coquette, my dear boy."
+
+"She is nothing of the kind. She is a true woman. Don't talk about
+her."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+Sara had spent the morning crying bitterly, in bed. Her letter to the
+Duke of Marshire was on the table by her side. From time to time she had
+taken it up, turned it over, shed fresh tears, and reproached herself
+for indecision. She held at bay every thought of Robert Orange, and
+formed the resolve of banishing him from her mind for ever. When the
+time came to dress for luncheon, she brightened a little, for the
+prospect of disguising her true feelings in the presence of Lord Reckage
+and Pensee appealed to that genius for mischief which animated the whole
+current of her life. _To baffle the looker-on_ seemed not merely a great
+science, but the one game of wits which could never lose its interest.
+She was not insincere. She thought that lies, as a rule, were clumsy
+shifts, and abominable. Even in the moments when she was most thoroughly
+conscious of her talent for misleading others, she had never brought
+herself to think well of deception. She would have liked to feel that
+her heart was an open book for her friends to read. It would have been
+pleasant, she believed, if all could have known always that she
+practised a delicate art and played, consummately, fine comedy whenever
+she found spectators. But a solitary, mismanaged childhood, and the
+constant sense of being in many ways a foreigner, had taught her the
+penalty of frankness where sympathy could not supply, from its own
+knowledge, the unutterable half which makes up every confidence. The
+bitter pleasures of a conscience which caresses its worst burden were
+the only real ones of her daily existence. When she could say, at the
+end of the day, "I have fooled them all: they think I am happy, I am
+not: they think Reckage amuses me, he doesn't. They think I delight in
+these dull dinners and balls, I hate them," a sort of exultation--the
+pride of a spirit singing under torture--would fill her whole being. All
+youth that is strong and thoughtful has much of this instinct of
+dissimulation. The world--to a young mind--appears controlled by
+elderly, suspicious, hateful custodians ever on the alert to capture, or
+thwart, every high enterprise and every passionate desire. There seems a
+vast conspiracy against happiness--the withered, dreary wiseacres in
+opposition to the joy, the daring, the beauty, the reckless vitality of
+souls still under the spell of spring. When poor Sara could escape from
+town into the country, mount her horse, and tear through a storm, the
+neighbours compared her to a witch on a broomstick, and, shaking their
+heads, would foresee much sipping of sorrow by the spoonful in the
+future of Lord Garrow. To-day, however, the young lady assumed her most
+demure expression, and received the guests at luncheon as though she had
+never learnt the meaning of tears nor joined the gale in spirit.
+
+Sir Piers Harding was the last to arrive. He was a thick-set, livid man
+with an unyielding smile and the yellow eyes of one whom rich diet
+rather than an angry god had rendered melancholy.
+
+"You haven't changed in the least," he said, considering Lord Garrow
+with some resentment.
+
+"Ah, well!" replied his lordship, "eleven years do not make much
+difference at my time of life. You, however, are decidedly greyer. Where
+have you been hiding yourself? I think you were foolish to leave
+England. Gladstone was remarking but the other day, 'Harding was always
+so cocksure.' 'And wasn't he right?' said I. 'Of course,' said he; 'and
+that was the worst of him. He _was_ right. Who could stand it?' That's
+the world. It's devilish unappreciative of the truth."
+
+Reckage, much bored by the old men, stood by Pensee's chair, where he
+could watch Sara and angle for her glance. When it happened that she
+smiled at him a little--either in mere friendship or mockery--he felt a
+kind of fire steal through his veins, and he told himself that she was a
+dangerous woman--a woman who could get her own way in the long run. That
+she was a girl--and, with all her shortcomings, a very innocent
+one--made her odd powers of fascination but the more insidious. She
+wore a dress of wine-coloured silk which fitted plainly over her breast
+and shoulders and fell in graceful flounces from the waist. The warm,
+olive lines of her cheek and throat appeared the darker in contrast with
+a twist of white lace which she wore round her neck; and her black hair,
+dressed higher than usual, was held in place by a large ruby comb which
+caught the fire-light as she moved. Reckage was conscious, for the first
+time in his life, of a real embarrassment. He could not talk to her; he
+felt tongue-tied when she addressed him. Ill at ease, yet not unhappy,
+he struggled to maintain some coherence in his conversation; but, at
+each moment, his own ideas grew less certain and Sara's voice more
+enchanting. It seemed to convey the lulling powers of an anodyne. When
+he tried to rouse himself, the effort was as painful as the attempt to
+wake from a dream within a dream.
+
+"You were at the wedding this morning?" she asked lightly.
+
+"No.... What a fool I am! Yes, of course. You mean Robert's wedding?"
+
+She gave a little smile, and murmured, dropping her voice, "I meant
+Robert's wedding."
+
+Luncheon was then announced: the sliding doors which separated the
+dining-room from Lord Garrow's library were rolled back. They all walked
+in--Pensee and Sara leading the way.
+
+"A sweet creature!" whispered his lordship behind their backs,
+indicating Lady Fitz Rewes. He sighed as he spoke. He could never feel
+that there was not something deplorable in Sara's physical brilliancy.
+Her upper-lip that day had a certain curl which he had learnt to regard
+as a danger-signal. What would she do next? As he sat down at the table
+and observed the sweep of her eyelashes toward Reckage, a presentiment
+of trouble clouded the new hopes he had formed for her career.
+
+"Who are your strong men now?" asked Harding suddenly, after a moment's
+contemplation of Reckage, who sat opposite.
+
+"Our strong men?" faltered Lord Garrow.
+
+"Aren't most of 'em place-hunters and self-seekers?"
+
+"You must meet Robert Orange," said Pensee; "Mr. Disraeli believes in
+Robert Orange."
+
+"I never heard of him," observed Sir Piers. "Who is he?"
+
+"You may well ask," said Lord Garrow. "He claims to be a de Hausee--on
+his father's side. Reckage can tell you about him. Many have a high
+opinion of the fellow, and say that if he will stick to one branch of
+politics, he may become useful. Personally, I don't call him a man of
+the world."
+
+"Not of our world, perhaps, papa. But there are so many other worlds!"
+
+"Sara likes him. A lot of women like him," said his lordship. He was
+annoyed at her interruption and took his revenge by a feminine thrust.
+"The hero," said he, "married some mysterious person this very morning.
+We may not hear so much about him in the future!"
+
+"Dear Lord Garrow," said Pensee, "his wife is a friend of mine--she is
+the most charming person."
+
+Sara put out her hand and touched Reckage on the arm.
+
+"Do you think," she asked, "that the wife will be an obstacle in his
+way?"
+
+"Who can tell? Of course she has means, and he likes to do everything
+well."
+
+"Speaking for myself," said Harding, "I have always held that a man's
+career rests rather on his genius than his marriage."
+
+"But you, my dear fellow," put in Lord Garrow, testily, "you retired
+from political life because your theories could find no illustration
+there."
+
+"Pardon me," said Sir Piers, with a grim laugh. "I retired because I had
+a faultless wife but unfortunately no genius. I shall therefore watch
+your friend's triumph or failure--for his position would seem to be
+precisely the reverse of my own--with peculiar sympathy."
+
+"Ah! I fear you are rather heartless," exclaimed Sara. "For a man to
+have gone so far as Orange, and to know that perhaps--I say, perhaps--he
+can hope no higher because he made a fool of himself about a woman!"
+
+"You speak as though it were a romantic marriage--a question of love."
+
+"Of course," said the young lady softly. "It is a great passion."
+
+"Well, after all," observed Harding, who was not insensible himself to
+Sara's delightfulness, "the British public is absurdly fond of a
+love-match. They adore a sentimental Prime Minister. They want to see
+him either marrying for love, or jilted in his youth for a richer man.
+These things enlist the popular sympathy. What made Henry Fox? His
+elopement with Lady Caroline Lennox."
+
+"To be sure," said Reckage--"to be sure. That's a point."
+
+"It is a compliment to the sex," continued Harding, "when a great man is
+taken captive by a pretty face. Men, too, rally round a Lochinvar. Such
+an evidence of heart--or folly, if you prefer to call it so--is also
+an evidence of disinterestedness. So, on the whole, I cannot follow your
+objections to the new Mrs. Orange."
+
+"You have been away so long," said Garrow fussily, "that you have
+forgotten our prejudices. Orange himself, to begin with, has something
+mysterious in his origin. They say he is French--related to the old
+French aristocracy; but the less one says in England about foreign
+pedigrees the better. All that of itself is against him, and Mrs.
+Orange, it seems, is more or less French, or Austrian, too. We can't
+help regarding them as foreigners, and I always distrust foreigners in
+politics. Why should they care for England? I ask myself."
+
+"Why, indeed?" said Harding, with irony.
+
+"Have I made myself clearer?" asked Garrow. "I can afford to speak. My
+own wife was a Russian. But I was not in political life, and she was an
+Ambassador's daughter."
+
+"You think you would feel more sure of Orange's patriotic instinct if he
+had chosen an Englishwoman?" said Reckage.
+
+"I am bound to say that he would have shown discretion in settling down
+with one of our simple-hearted Saxon girls."
+
+"And who was Mrs. Orange before she married Orange?" asked Harding.
+
+"A widow--a Mrs. Parflete," said Garrow.
+
+"Parflete!" exclaimed Harding. "Mrs. Parflete! But I have met her. She
+married Wrexham Parflete, an extraordinary creature. He lived for years
+with the Archduke Charles of Alberia. People used to say that Mrs.
+Parflete was the Archduke's daughter. I ran across Parflete the other
+day in Sicily."
+
+"But he is dead," said Pensee, much agitated; "he drowned himself."
+
+"I cannot help that," repeated Sir Piers. "I met him last week, and he
+beat me at ecarte."
+
+"Then it is not the same man," said Reckage, "quite obviously."
+
+"Wrexham Parflete had a wife; I heard her sing at a dinner-party in
+Madrid. She was living with the Countess Des Escas; there was a row and
+a duel on her account. I never forget names or faces."
+
+"But this looks serious," said Reckage. "Do you quite understand? It's
+the sort of thing one hardly dares to think. That is to say if you mean
+what I mean. The marriage can't be legal."
+
+The two women turned pale and looked away from each other.
+
+"I mean as much or as little as you like," said Harding. "But Parflete
+was alive last Monday."
+
+"But bigamy is so vulgar," observed Lord Garrow. "You must be mistaken.
+It is too dreadful!"
+
+"Dreadful, indeed! And a great piece of folly into the bargain. It is
+selling the bear's skin before you have killed the bear."
+
+Lady Fitz Rewes glanced piteously at the three men and wrung her hands.
+
+"Don't you see," she exclaimed, "don't you see that if there is the
+least doubt of Mr. Parflete's death, we ought to go to them. Some one
+must follow them."
+
+"There is that touch of the absurd about it," said Reckage, "which makes
+it difficult for a friend to come forward. To pursue a man on his
+wedding journey----"
+
+"It is no laughing matter," put in Lord Garrow; "and if the woman has
+deceived the poor fellow, it's a monstrous crime."
+
+"Oh, she hasn't; she couldn't deceive him," said Pensee. "I know her
+intimately."
+
+"She was considered very clever--at Madrid," said Sir Piers, finely. "To
+you she may appear more to be pitied than she really is."
+
+"Don't say such things! I won't hear them. I love her very much."
+
+"Perhaps she is clever enough to appear stupid in public."
+
+"No, no!" Her voice trembled and tears gushed from her eyes. "You will
+regret these words. This news will kill her."
+
+"Something must be done," said Sara. "Beauclerk, you ought to follow
+them and tell them. Pensee is right."
+
+"This will make a horrid scandal," said Lord Garrow, who was appalled at
+the prospect of being mixed up in so disagreeable an affair. "Why not
+leave it alone? It is not our business."
+
+"But it is Beauclerk's business, papa. Just put yourself in his place.
+Surely that is not asking too much."
+
+"We must avoid everything precipitate," said Reckage; "we mustn't be
+over-hasty."
+
+Lady Fitz Rewes wiped her eyes, rose from the table, and began to draw
+on her gloves.
+
+"But we must be friends," she said; "if you cannot go to them, I will.
+Do you realise the poor child's position? An illegal marriage! She is
+the most gentle, beautiful person I ever saw, with the best head, the
+purest heart. She professes _nothing_. I judge her by her actions."
+
+"But you must see," said Reckage, "that I can't give Orange all this
+pain unless I have something more definite to go on. Sir Piers tells us
+that he played cards with Wrexham Parflete last week." He paused.
+
+"Wait a moment," said Harding; "wait a moment. Does any one present know
+Parflete's handwriting?"
+
+"I do," said Pensee. "I saw his last letter to his wife. He wrote it
+before he committed suicide."
+
+Sir Piers took out his pocket-book, and, from the several papers it
+contained, selected a three-cornered note.
+
+"By the merest chance," said he, "I have this with me."
+
+The others unconsciously left their seats and looked over his shoulder
+while he smoothed out the sheet. It was dated plainly, "October 7,
+1869," and contained the acknowledgment of two L10 notes won at ecarte.
+
+"That is the hand," said Pensee. "One could not mistake it."
+
+"Then this is really very serious," said Lord Reckage, with twitching
+lips. "The whole story has had all along something of unreality about
+it. Robert seems fated to a renunciant career--colourless,
+self-annihilating."
+
+"What will you do?" murmured Pensee, with an imploring gesture. "What
+will you do?"
+
+"They leave Southampton at three o'clock," said Reckage; "it is now
+half-past two. The steamer goes twice a week only. I can send him a
+telegram and follow them overland--by way of Calais."
+
+"Then I must go also," said Pensee firmly. "She will need me. I have had
+a presentiment of trouble so long that now I feel 'Here it is come at
+last.' I cannot be too thankful to God that it isn't worse."
+
+Nothing showed under the innavigable depths of Sara's eyes. She had
+moved to the fireplace and stood there holding one small foot to the
+blaze.
+
+"Are you cold?" asked her father anxiously.
+
+"I am ice," she said, "ice!"
+
+Reckage joined her and said, under his voice, "You think I ought to go,
+don't you?"
+
+This question--given in a half-whisper--seemed to establish a fresh
+intimacy between them. It was the renewal of their old friendship on
+deeper terms.
+
+"Yes, you must go," she answered; "and, Beauclerk, write to me and tell
+me how he bears it."
+
+"He is accustomed to a repressive discipline on these matters. The
+philosophic mind, you know, is never quite in health. Probably, he won't
+show much feeling."
+
+His gaze seemed to burn into her face. It was as though she had been
+walking in an arbour and suddenly, through some rift in the boughs,
+found herself exposed to the scorching sun. She felt dominated by a
+force stronger than her own nature. A little afraid, she shrank
+instinctively away from him, and as she dared not look up, she did not
+see the expression of triumph, mingled with other things, which, for a
+moment, lit up Lord Reckage's ordinarily inscrutable countenance.
+Lately, he had been somewhat depressed by his encounter with refractory
+wills. His horse, his colleagues on the Bond of Association, his future
+bride, had showed themselves fatiguing, perhaps worthless, certainly
+disheartening and independent accessories to his life. Here, at last,
+was some one brilliant, stimulating, by no means self-seeking, Quixotic
+in enthusiasms.
+
+"Sara," he said, obeying an impulse which surprised himself, "do you
+believe in me?"
+
+This time she gave him a straight glance.
+
+"Yes," she answered. "You might do a great deal if you could forget
+yourself for a few months."
+
+Pensee, much troubled and full of thoughts, walked over to them.
+
+"Oh, Sara!" she said, "isn't it terrible? If you could have seen them
+both this morning--she looked so beautiful, perfectly lovely--a sight I
+never can forget. And now this blow! What man can teach men to
+understand the will of God?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+Robert and Brigit were silent with happiness on their way to
+Southampton. Side by side they watched the country through the carriage
+windows. There had been a fog in London when they left, and the sun, at
+intervals, shone out like a live coal among dying embers. All was
+obscured; the foot-passengers and passing vehicles seemed black straying
+shadows in the atmosphere. But the express emerged at last from the
+clinging darkness into autumnal fields, some brown after the harvest,
+others studded with hay-ricks. At one point in the landscape they
+noticed a flock of sheep drinking at a stream. The boy who guarded them
+waved his cap at the train, and this little signal, coming, as it were,
+from human nature, gave them a reassurance of the day's reality. Near
+Bishopstoke the clouds were white and dense, but, rippling in places,
+they disclosed blue stretches of the heaven which, in their masses, they
+concealed. Southampton began with small houses. One had a tattered
+garden, where a stone copy of the Medicean Venus stood on a patch of
+squalid turf near a clothes' line and against an ivy-grown wall. Then
+the green sands were reached. The sea, like liquid granite, sparkled in
+the distance. Rows of dull dwellings, shops, public-houses, and hotels
+came next. The train, with a shriek, rushed into the station. It was
+still too early for lunch, so they walked down to the pier, where they
+saw several yachts and pleasure-boats at anchor in the harbour, and the
+New Forest greenly outlined in the distance. These were the things which
+engraved themselves on Brigit's mind. The impressibility of youth is
+retentive for outward objects, but the inner mood--the sensation and
+idea which make the mental state--lives unconsciously, and is recognised
+only in the long process of time. Brigit could have described the scene,
+but her emotions did not seem to her, emotions. Absorbed by them, and in
+them, she neither abandoned herself to the hour nor asked herself what
+the hour held. She and the hour were one--a single note; and the joy she
+felt at being with Robert, leaning on his arm and hearing his voice, was
+so simple that, even if a psychologist of the deepest experience had
+been able to probe into the workings of her mind, he would have found
+nothing there to analyse. Hers was a child's affection--the first love
+of a heart still immature, and not yet made suspicious of itself by
+contact with others less innocent. Parflete had been too worldly-wise
+not to guard and value--at its true price--a disposition so graceful in
+its very essence. She had a knowledge of affairs beyond her years, yet
+her own instincts, her education, her few friendships, had kept her
+curiously ignorant of evil, of much also that is neither good nor evil,
+but merely human. The sombre sentimentality which lurks in most young
+girls of seventeen was not in her character at all, and in its stead she
+possessed the gaiety and carelessness of feeling which belongs to
+imaginative rather than to sensuous natures. A boy-like spirit showed
+itself in all her words, movements, moods; her womanhood still slept,
+and thus, while her intelligence made her an unusual companion and her
+beauty presented a constant appeal to all that is romantic, it was
+inevitable that melancholy and reserve should enter largely into the
+passionate love which Robert felt for her. He told himself that he would
+not have her different. The glance of her eyes, which stirred him
+strangely to the very depths of his being, never varied in its sweetness
+nor its calm. When her lightest touch could sway his body and spirit,
+she, unconscious of her power, would press his hand against her cheek
+and talk about the geraniums in the convent garden or the chances of the
+Carlist war. It was all wonderful. It had seemed perfect. And yet--and
+yet. She was not cold, but was she unearthly? Was she, perhaps, some
+straying angel--some fervid, bright spirit, flame-coloured and
+intangible, a being of the elfin race? As they stood together looking at
+the distant coastline a depression which he could neither fathom nor
+control came over him. His bride seemed so much younger than he had
+ever realised. She cared for him--how could he doubt it? But was the
+indefinable, indispensable feeling absent?
+
+"Do you remember our journey from Catesby?" she asked suddenly. "I
+slept. Wasn't I dull? Did you mind?"
+
+No one could see them. He stooped and kissed her fragrant, animated
+face. "I wish," said he, "I wish that you were not quite such a child."
+
+The feeling of solitariness weighed upon his soul with a crushing weight
+unknown until that day--the day of days, his wedding day. Heretofore he
+had craved for solitude because it had been full of her imagined
+companionship. Now that she actually lived and talked by his side, the
+fancied image of her paled, vanished. The real creature was adorable,
+but, for some reason, maddening, and not, at all events, the being of
+his fancy. Their old relations--ethereal and exquisite, no doubt--now
+seemed an empty mockery, self-deluding foolishness. He coloured at the
+remembrance of all that Disraeli had hinted, and Reckage had brutally
+declared, on the large topic of idealism in passion. A man, in spite of
+all determinations to be uncomplaining, knows the How much and How
+little that he may demand, merely as a man, from any given advantage or
+disadvantage in existence. Robert, hating himself, condemning himself,
+was conscious, in spite of himself, that Brigit's affection for him was
+not love in the full human sense of the word. He had exchanged an
+ordinary self-restraint for an impossibly false position. She could
+inspire his life, but could she enter into it, be it, live it with him
+daily? Would there not have to be great reservations, half statements,
+and, worst of all, a subtle kind of hypocrisy? He reproached himself for
+selfishness, yet the fear came and it remained. He had captured the
+rainbow and married the goddess. Were there not many legends
+illustrating this folly?--stories of men who had married divinities and
+perished, not because the divinities were at fault, but because mortals
+must wed with mortals. The sight of his wife's beauty caused a sudden,
+violent irritation. He wished she had none, for then, perhaps, he
+thought he would have been satisfied, more than content, in the placid
+consideration of her charms of character. He found himself reduced to
+the absurd predicament of deciding to banish her from his thoughts--a
+last sophism which showed him, all too clearly, how wretched he was.
+Their silence, which had been due in the first instance to the
+sufficient delight of being in each other's company, became that long
+pause which arises from an unutterable embarrassment. Brigit felt by
+instinct some change in Robert's mood, but as she could not account for
+it then, her sympathy failed. The keen salt air filled her with its own
+free buoyancy; her delicate skin flushed in the wind; she forgot the
+nervous strain of the morning, the awfulness of the grey chapel, the new
+state of things, griefs that were past, responsibilities that were to
+come. She turned to Orange as a child would turn to its inseparable
+comrade, and clapped her hands with amusement at an organ-grinder with a
+monkey and a dog whom she noticed sitting at the end of the pier,
+waiting, apparently, for one of the excursion steamers bound for the
+Isle of Wight.
+
+"Pennies for the monkey, Robert," she cried; "a lot of pennies! And then
+we must have our lunch. May I have some chicken and one of those very
+droll, very stupid, English rice puddings? Please let me have one....
+And may I kiss the dog? It is a nice little dog--quite as nice as
+Pensee's Fidelio. Now I am going to talk to the monkey."
+
+She ran toward the little animal, who was shivering, pathetic and
+grotesque, in a military cap and red petticoat trimmed with yellow
+braid. The dog, which was a young pug with excellent points, gave
+Brigit, after many entreaties, his paw. She addressed the monkey in
+Italian, and laughed till she cried at its absurdities. Robert looked
+on, consumed by a sensation which he recognised, with much shame, as
+jealousy. He thought the pug dull and the monkey revolting. Yet she
+kissed one, and showered heavenly smiles on both.
+
+"I did not know that you were so fond of animals," he said, as they
+walked to the hotel for lunch.
+
+"I am not," she answered frankly, "as a rule. But when I am with you I
+feel so happy that I want to kiss everything--the ground, and the
+trees, and chairs, and poodle dogs, and the whole world!"
+
+"Then why not--me?"
+
+She looked at him, blushed a little, and waited some moments before she
+replied.
+
+"I don't know," she said at last. "It must be because I am not in the
+habit of doing so. I am not accustomed to you yet. I keep thinking 'I
+shall wake up in a minute and he will be miles away.' Can't you
+understand? So I am pretending to myself all the time that you are not
+really here."
+
+"I see."
+
+"No, dearest, you don't quite understand; and you are a little
+disappointed in me because I seem--I must seem--rather flippant. I
+daren't be serious--I daren't. I daren't believe that I am your wife."
+
+"But why not?"
+
+She shook her head, and her whole face became clouded by the old,
+terrible, unnatural sadness which he knew so much better than her
+laughter.
+
+"I am not used to joy," she said. "Perhaps, if we ever get to Heaven,
+our first impulse will be to run back again to Purgatory, where we are
+more at home!"
+
+"You have too much wit, darling, to be happy anywhere!"
+
+"No! no! I don't ask to be conventionally happy, but I want you always.
+That is all ... you, always, on any terms--on a rag-heap, in a storm,
+with jackals howling at us!"
+
+"What a picture!"
+
+"My idea of unalloyed bliss, or, at least, the only one I have ever
+permitted myself. I can even believe that might be realised." A smile
+hovered again about her lips, but she looked steadily ahead, as though
+she were still resolved not to reassure herself, by any too-frequent
+glances, of his much-loved presence.
+
+The peculiar tenderness of her voice was in itself a charm against
+ill-humour. A rush of bitter self-reproach told Robert that his
+dissatisfaction had been the inevitable result of too many blessings on
+a base nature. He tried to speak; he watched instead, with a desperate,
+eager gaze, the play of her expressive features.
+
+"I wonder," she said, "what our life is to be? Not that I wish to pry
+into the future, but, for some reason, I can never feel settled. Every
+morning is a surprise. I think, too, about your character ... your
+career. Have I helped you, or have I been a hindrance? I am perverse,
+capricious--not an angel. No human influence can help me very much. I
+must depend on the discipline of God. Oh, if I could know all that He
+wants me to do!"
+
+"Most of us have that desire, Brigit. At least it is better to be
+damned, in the world's opinion, trying to do the will of God than
+saved--doing nothing! One has to take a good many chances--even the
+chance of displeasing Him--if it comes to a crisis."
+
+"Many people would call that reckless."
+
+"Let them call it anything," said the young man; "names do not matter.
+The ghastly, unspeakable dread is to be timorous, halting, the creature
+of indecision."
+
+"We are too much alike," she sighed. "Oh, Robert, if we did not suffer
+horribly within ourselves when we do wrong, I believe we should both
+defy every law in the world! I am a born rebel."
+
+More than a note of her mother's insolence was in the speech, but the
+whole spirit of the dead actress seemed to possess Brigit for that
+moment. Her being rippled, as it were, with the new disturbance, just as
+a pond will tremble to its edges at the mere dip of a swallow's wing.
+The artistic hatred of all restraint and the wild desire of liberty were
+the imperious passions of her heart--more vehement than any other
+feeling--even her love for Orange.
+
+"I could fight," she said, "a visible devil, but this struggle with
+moods and tastes is deadening."
+
+"What are the moods and tastes?" he asked.
+
+"I cannot describe them well. But music calls me; I hear it trilling,
+and sobbing, and whispering everywhere; and sometimes it is so loud and
+so beautiful that I wonder why every one else doesn't stop to listen.
+They never do. So I sing back my answer. It is silent singing. You would
+only wonder why I was so quiet all at once."
+
+"But I have heard you sing."
+
+"Not with my real voice, Robert. It is stronger than it used to be."
+She checked herself and hesitated, stopped by a sudden scruple--a sort
+of delicacy. She thought nothing at all of her beauty and never of her
+fortune; but in giving Robert her voice, and the nameless ambitions
+which enveloped it, she was conscious that she had made, in some way, a
+renunciation.
+
+"Say what you were going to say, dearest?"
+
+"I cannot forget," she exclaimed desperately, "that mama was an actress.
+And I remember some of the nights at the theatre.... I liked the
+theatre.... I believe I could act.... I have learned the whole of
+_Phedre_ and the whole of _Juliet_. That is why I live."
+
+This avowal of her secret over-ruling instinct set free the sanguine
+strength which circumstances had imprisoned, but could not destroy, in
+her character. The constant effort of hiding from all observation the
+irrepressible yearnings of a talent that would not be denied, had given
+her that quality of mysteriousness, of dreamy habits of thought, of
+languor, which, even to Robert, had looked as though she might find this
+earth too rough to live on. But the despair which comes from fighting,
+unsuccessfully, the world, is not that appearance of weakness which is
+the result of fighting--more or less effectively--one's own energy. In
+this latter issue the beaten foe joins forces obediently enough with the
+conqueror, till at last the opposing elements are directed, whether for
+good or evil, by one will.
+
+"So you want to go on the stage," said Orange quietly.
+
+She turned to him and saw, with anguish, the deep amazement his words
+had not expressed.
+
+"No," she said, "no. I have you instead. I want to devote myself to
+you--to exist for you."
+
+"Oh, don't you see, my dear child, that this is a kind of--of pity--of
+anything you like, except the one thing----"
+
+"I adore you, Robert. Oh, I can't get at what I want to say! Any talk
+about love always sounds very stilted or hollow. I only know that I want
+to live intensely in all that concerns you; that just to think of you
+makes me perfectly happy. When I said that learning _Phedre_ and
+_Juliet_ was the reason I lived, I was thinking of the time when I had
+no right to think of you. Of course I loved you always, from the
+beginning. It began at Chambord when I first met you. I very seldom say
+these things, and it is better that they should remain unsaid for the
+most part. But you must never doubt me, and I feel to-day, in spite of
+all we know about each other and all we have suffered, that you are
+doubting me now. You fear I don't know my own mind. Isn't this the
+trouble?"
+
+The intuition which comes to men and women through suffering has always
+the certain sharpness of a surgeon's knife. It may be a reassurance to
+have the inmost thought plucked at by some loving spirit, and yet it is
+seldom that the touch can be given without inflicting agony. Orange
+could not reply at once. In his resolve to be unselfish--to put aside
+that personal equation which was nothing less than his whole nature--he
+had to steel his heart to her, contradicting painfully, by curt, unfelt
+phrases, the promptings of a soul turned in upon itself, desolate and
+confused.
+
+"I have been selfish and thoughtless," he said abruptly; "a missed
+vocation is irreplaceable and it is also indestructible. You hear the
+echo of the call as long as you live--perhaps afterwards. At your age
+you could feel, but you could not wholly understand your talents. If you
+had told me all this before----"
+
+She laughed with real joyousness and clung more closely to his arm.
+
+"I didn't tell you," she exclaimed, "because you would have said just
+what you are saying now. You are the one. All the rest is a means of
+forgetting you. It is something resembling happiness to be alone in the
+turmoil of the world with one unspoilt illusion. This illusion in my
+case is a little idea that I could be a great actress--perhaps! Don't
+look grave, Robert. It makes you sad when I talk this way."
+
+"Those who can be disillusioned have no convictions. Disillusion is the
+failure of a half-belief. I learnt that long ago. But I hate the very
+word in your mouth. Woe to us both if we cannot be resolute now. I
+could have waited--had I seen any reason to wait. Time could make no
+difference in my love. As it is, I have stolen you from yourself. But
+now I have stolen you I will keep you. I cannot--cannot give you back
+again to anything or anybody."
+
+He spoke with that almost mocking tenderness which dissembles its
+passion. At the practical difficulty which now confronted him, all that
+was merely romantic and speculative in his soul took flight, as birds
+that are frightened from a quiet orchard by the yelp of dogs. He became
+aware that he was bitterly independent of the joys he had once found in
+the mere spectacle of the exterior world--the play of light and shade,
+the changing visions of the sky, the charm of the earth. His own
+thoughts were now the sole realities, and the dulness which suddenly
+came over his vision for outward things seemed to render it the more
+acute and concentrated for the things of the mind. As distant hills and
+tree tops show most distinctly before a storm, so every possibility
+which can arise from a conflict of duties stood out with a decisive
+clearness for his consideration. He had married in haste a child-bride.
+There was no blinking the fact. She had the strenuous religious fibre,
+and with it real Bohemian blood. She was also at the yielding age, when
+a dominant influence could do much to divert or modify every natural
+trait. He could not doubt that he had this power over her then. How far,
+and to what purpose, should he exert it? For himself he wished to
+discourage any hankering on her part for public life, and, most of all,
+public life behind the footlights, under an artificial sky. No one knew
+better than he that there are certain things of love, of nobility, of
+temperament, of pride, in certain lives which the world at large would
+rather calumniate than comprehend. People in general clung to their
+opinions not because they were true, but because they were their own,
+and among pretty general opinions--particularly in the year 1869--there
+was a strong prejudice against handsome young women who went on the
+stage. It was not in him to consider--even as an egoistic reflection to
+be put aside--how far Brigit's project, carried into action, could
+effect his own political career. His apprehensions were all for her and
+her own content.
+
+"Promise me," he said, "that you will always tell me when the acting
+mood comes over you. Never fight it, never try to resist it, give it the
+liberty to die, but also the right to live. There is an old Hindoo
+proverb: 'Find the flower which can bloom in the silence that
+follows--not that which precedes--the storm.' This applies perfectly to
+a talent or a vocation. If the mood is there, in spite of fatigue, or
+discouragement, or other claims--happiness for that matter--you may
+depend that it is the ruling motive of your life and not to be
+vanquished. You must follow the bent or you will suffer--suffer till you
+die of it."
+
+"How? in what way?"
+
+"Either in your vanity or your conscience; either by the world's
+judgment on your conduct or by your own estimate of your conduct. You
+have no vanity, so the world doesn't count. But you have a conscience,
+and that counts for all!"
+
+He had not calculated, and he could not have foreseen, the effect of his
+words. Her eyes filled with tears.
+
+"My dearest," she said, "don't you see how trivial everything is to me
+in comparison with you? But I dare not love you so much as I can! So I
+encourage other enthusiasms--out of fear. Sometimes it seems as though
+the extraordinary, impossible ideal would be to have you with me for
+ever, and be an actress as well. But that is out of the question. And if
+I had my choice--if I could be as great as Rachel or Mrs. Siddons, or
+live with you on my dear rag-heap, with the jackals howling--do you
+think that I would hesitate, that I could hesitate?"
+
+"If I believed you I should be a dreadful coxcomb!"
+
+"Risk the coxcomb," she said. "I can!"
+
+A clanging bell and the noise of traffic on the quay recalled them to
+the moment. They had barely time to reach the steamer and get on board.
+A strong, cold breeze was blowing; the sun shone full on the sea, which,
+near the horizon, was as green as the sky on a summer evening. But
+clouds were gathering in the north-west, and the peculiar brightness
+which presages rain lent a fugitive brilliancy to the atmosphere. The
+town and its spires glittered; the water, frothing round the
+paddle-wheels, sent its shining spray upon the brown boards of the
+wharf. Brigit kissed her hands toward France.
+
+"Soon," she exclaimed, "soon I can kiss its ground. How I love my
+country and the place where you lived, Robert, as a boy!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+Lady Fitz Rewes had determined to prevent the marriage of Lord Reckage
+with Agnes Carillon. She could not forget the dreadful scene with Sara
+when that poor girl was endeavouring to reconcile herself to the Duke of
+Marshire's proposal. Pensee had studied each person concerned in the
+possible tragedy. She saw that Agnes was by no means serene, that the
+portrait by Rennes somehow made no progress, that Reckage was feverish
+and excitable. His bearing toward Sara during the lunch confirmed
+Pensee's suspicion that the love which had existed between them as boy
+and girl was still unextinguished on either side. He would have been
+less than mortal, she thought, if he had not felt, with all the
+bitterness of a conscious fool, that he had missed his true destiny.
+Sara possessed the warmth and wealth of heart which were the complements
+his own bleak nature required. Agnes Carillon, with her accurate,
+invariable beauty, had a prim disposition, wholesome enough for a man of
+strange, dark humours like David Rennes, but perilous always in its
+effect on any frigid or calculating mind. And Reckage was known to be
+supremely selfish. It seemed to Pensee that Sara had behaved very
+naturally, very touchingly, through the trying conversation on the
+subject of rising men and their marriages. Her demeanour had been
+unsurpassable. But it was not in nature that a woman who understood a
+man could look on, inactive and indifferent, while he fettered himself
+with some damaging influence. Perhaps her ladyship felt the situation
+the more keenly, because, much as she loved Mrs. Parflete, she could not
+bring herself to think that she was the wife for Robert. She had spent
+many weeks refusing admittance to this thought, yet prudence was
+prudence, and, by virtue of its stability, it prevailed. The union, even
+viewed in the most favourable light, had always seemed imprudent. It was
+too hurried. Shocking, mortifying as the possibility of its being
+illegal was, Pensee's conviction that Almighty God ordered all things
+for the best seemed less a faith and more a matter of pure reason than
+was usual in the ordinary run of hard cases which made demands upon her
+piety. "Two diamonds do not easily form cup and socket," was an old
+saying in her home circle. The more she had seen of Brigit Parflete the
+more she had been struck with her--struck with her moodiness, struck
+with her contempt for received opinions, her vigour and independence of
+will. Was she the wife to further the advance of a man of extraordinary
+ability, already much handicapped on the world's course by a proud
+spirit, a reckless, impetuous disdain of creatures generally considered
+the pink of human excellence? He was passionately in love, and the
+strength of this sentiment carried, for the time, every thought of his
+being along with it. But love was not unalterable. The change would
+surely come. The fever and folly, the exaltation and ardours would fade
+into a sacred affection--an instinctive tenderness; yet other interests,
+as vital, and in their season more absorbing, would flock into his life.
+What then?
+
+Pensee and Reckage did not exchange many words till they found
+themselves alone, face to face, in the railway carriage bound for Dover.
+Then they looked with wonder at each other, stupefied at the errand on
+which they were bound, and the strangeness of the whole proceeding.
+Reckage noticed that his companion was attired so correctly and with
+such discretion that no one could have told she was a pretty woman. Her
+veil was not unusually thick, yet it disguised every charm of expression
+and feature. He had bought her a novel, some papers, and a few
+magazines; she turned these over listlessly, and murmured, as the train
+sped along--
+
+"Of course, I had to come. No one will say a word when the circumstances
+are known. I hope poor Renshaw is comfortable in the next carriage."
+
+Reckage replied--
+
+"You have behaved like an angel!"
+
+He probably but half understood Pensee's character: he underrated her
+intellect, and he misconstrued her friendship for Orange into a weak
+infatuation. Agnes Carillon shared his view on this point, for, as he
+and his future bride could never be confidential with each other, they
+managed an appearance of intimacy by discussing with great freedom the
+private affairs of their friends. Agnes, in the fervour of godliness,
+had even seen much that was reprehensible in Lady Fitz Rewes's devotion
+to a man who had no idea of marrying her. She had declared that she
+could not understand it--an attitude pleasing to her fancy and
+gratifying to her pride. Reckage had thought it was not quite clear that
+the danger was immediate. Such was his feeling now toward Pensee,
+although he was conscious of a certain curiosity with regard to her
+motive in taking Brigit's part with such magnificent self-effacement.
+This seemed to him unnatural; and although she had impressed him with
+the highest opinion of her kindness, he could not believe that a woman
+of genuinely tender sensibilities could have approached such an
+altruistic height. She was an excellent creature--as creatures went, he
+thought, but hard in a feeble way. Then he closed his eyes and called up
+the elusive image of Sara de Treverell--very dark, very handsome, with
+her superb black hair reaching to her knees--as he had often seen it
+when she was a little girl--her blue eyes shining with a strange light,
+her lips smiling, her white arms held out....
+
+"Sara may not be a happy girl," said Pensee suddenly, "but she is a
+clever one."
+
+Reckage started from his reverie.
+
+"How odd!" he exclaimed, surprised into candour. "I was thinking of her
+at that very moment."
+
+Pensee had read as much on his face, but she did not tell him so.
+
+"I feel for her very much," she observed instead. "She must be the
+greatest possible comfort to her father, although he may not realise it.
+Yet he is forcing on the engagement to Marshire. She keeps up in the
+most courageous way, but she has ideals, and no persuasion will induce
+her to change them."
+
+He turned red, and said, looking out of the window--
+
+"Ideals do no harm when, for some reason or other, we are unable to
+carry them out."
+
+"I cannot imagine what she will do, or how she will bear her life if
+things continue as they are."
+
+"What things?"
+
+"She is like a slave to Lord Garrow. She is with him constantly, reading
+to him, and doing everything for him. She will be a cruel loss to his
+home when she marries."
+
+"I rather revel at the thought of the dismay which will attend her final
+capture of Marshire."
+
+"I used to hope that you perhaps----"
+
+He glanced up and smiled with an air of satisfaction.
+
+"I don't like the appearance of measuring myself against Marshire....
+But--but he certainly seems, in character, the culminating point of
+mediocrity! In fact, Mr. Disraeli, whom I seldom quote, so described
+him."
+
+"What a husband for that brilliant, affectionate girl! She likes all
+that is simple and grand. A real love--if it were a happy one--would
+make her even more charming, and if it caused her suffering, it would
+make her even more noble. But failing this, there will be a frightful
+void in her life."
+
+Reckage, whose imagination began to play round this thought, replied
+with unusual seriousness--
+
+"I should be horribly grieved to see any declension from her better
+nature. I think I am getting to think less of mere social power. I feel
+more than I used to do that, if one could literally _live_ one's
+theories on moral strength, it would be a complete refutation of these
+ideas about the influence of money or a big accidental position. Old
+Harding was right when he said at luncheon to-day that disinterestedness
+counted very highly in the popular vote. The point about Henry Fox's
+elopement with Caroline Lennox was sound."
+
+"It would not have been sound," said Pensee, "if Caroline Lennox had
+been a third-rate woman. A man can be desperate so long as his choice,
+on the whole, justifies, either by her beauty, or her talents, or
+something uncommon, an extreme measure. Now, Robert may not have made a
+wise choice, but it is certainly a distinguished one. It can be
+understood and it commands respect."
+
+"Oh, yes, his is a thorough-going emotion, and one couldn't find a fault
+with its object. A strong man is always a man who feels strongly _and_
+who can carry his feeling into action. Robert, with all his mysticism,
+is never subject to the deep depressions of spirit which usually afflict
+men of his gifts. He does not know what it is to be languid; or to have
+invincible indecisions. He will die game--even if he does know German
+metaphysic backwards!"
+
+She was astonished.
+
+"How well you understand him!"
+
+He leant forward a little and adopted a more confidential tone--
+
+"Sara spoke of him at lunch. Her judgment of men and affairs--for so
+young a woman--is nothing short of amazing. I attribute it to the
+Asiatic streak on her mother's side. It is a kind of second-sight. What
+a wife for a Prime Minister! And Marshire, a fellow of middling ability
+and no experience, has had the sense to perceive her qualities!... My
+feelings can't be easily defined, nor, indeed, is it necessary they
+should.... I have gone so far that I cannot see anything for it but to
+go on."
+
+"You mean--in your own marriage?"
+
+He sighed profoundly, remained for several minutes silent, and finally
+roused himself with a painful effort.
+
+"There are some griefs which can defy any consolation save that of time.
+Time ultimately cures everything. It is a matter of history that I was
+once very much attached to Sara."
+
+"I know," murmured Pensee. "I know."
+
+He covered his eyes with one hand and looked through his fingers at her
+face, asking himself by what transition he could best arrive at a frank
+exposition of his embarrassed sentiments. It seemed to him that she was
+intelligent as well as trustworthy, and he felt impelled to call in her
+assistance, being sure that, in any cause where love could be pleaded,
+she would show a judicious leniency.
+
+"If you have not observed that I am still--too interested, you have not
+observed with your usual sagacity," said he.
+
+"I think--if I may say so--that time seems only to deepen a sorrow of
+that kind."
+
+"Particularly when it is associated--as in this case--with a certain
+self-reproach. In times of trial my pen is my refuge. I could not write
+for a year after I had decided--irrevocably as I believed--that Sara and
+I could not make each other happy."
+
+"Then you never actually proposed to her? There was never any tacit
+understanding?"
+
+"Never. And if there be any part of my conduct in life upon which I can
+look with entire satisfaction, it is my behaviour with regard to Sara. I
+did not mislead her in any way. I was even over-scrupulous, and
+purposely avoided opportunities of meeting. I say this in order that you
+may know how very determined a man's will must be--if he does not wish
+to be selfish. A course of struggling is miserable indeed. I spared her
+any knowledge of my misery."
+
+"She might have been happier had she known of it! Last year she remained
+entirely alone; and solitude is full of bad things--it is very
+dangerous, however much one is accustomed to it."
+
+"Poor girl! But I could not, in honour, suffer a false impression to be
+formed. As a matter of fact, my family wouldn't hear of the match. There
+is no denying that they were set on my marrying Agnes."
+
+At last he had been able to mention her. He leant back and relied on his
+companion's tact to elaborate the theme.
+
+Pensee murmured--
+
+"Dear Agnes! If there are storms, they won't come from her side. She is
+of a very elevated spirit----"
+
+He winced, but she continued--
+
+"Generous, sternly honest, greatly esteemed by every one. Neither pique
+nor passion nor petty feelings could ever influence her mind. She is the
+most angelic, good woman I ever met--she is one to whom one may
+complain, and be a bore. She has such utter patience!"
+
+"You would not be impressed by professions, nor am I very clever at
+making them," said he, "but you know, by sympathy, that my affection for
+her is--is the heroic feeling of devotion which has also a kind of
+exclusiveness----"
+
+He could not finish the sentence.
+
+"It leads you to imagine that you could never survive her loss," said
+Pensee gravely. "But need you lose her--as a friend?" Something in his
+countenance encouraged her to pursue this train of thought. "Agnes has
+the deepest admiration for your qualities. No doubt, you truly realise
+the high standard of character which she would hope for in one to whom
+she gave her love. You have proved yourself worthy to call out her best
+feelings."
+
+Reckage was very touched by this tribute.
+
+"And _her_ best feelings," said he, "ought to make us--at our best--very
+humble."
+
+Pensee lifted her veil just above her eyes, clasped her hands tightly
+together, and kept her earnest glance full upon his.
+
+"I believe," she continued, "that if it were in man, or woman, to
+command the heart, you would have her entire affection. I believe she is
+unhappy. During the last week she has had many ups and downs. She has
+passed with astonishing rapidity from the lowest despair to the height
+of joy. She has tried to distract her mind by incessant occupation. But
+you know her manner--it is transparent near the surface, difficult to
+sound in its depths."
+
+"Yes, she has a childlike openness--up to a certain point."
+
+"I can only tell you, therefore, what I think, judging as a woman, by
+outward signs. I seem to detect a sort of self-doubt--as though she
+feared making some error. She has become of late strangely intense and
+vivid--she is fascinated by books, and drawn to music, as she never was
+before. Perhaps she sees that you give her a priceless, beautiful
+friendship which must indeed be flattering. Yet--yet in marriage
+friendship is not enough. So she is acquiring a stock of interests which
+are impersonal."
+
+Loyalty to Agnes forbade any reference to David Rennes. She had no
+intention of giving the least hint of her own private conviction on the
+subject. She desired merely that Reckage should learn how the engagement
+might be broken off without giving unimaginable grief to the young lady.
+The move under this aspect was skilful and successful. Reckage received
+her words as a subtle appeal to his honour and kindness.
+
+He said at once--
+
+"I am glad you have told me this. I could bear my own mistakes. I could
+not bear hers. Let me look at the step which I have taken! The choice is
+for life. Agnes is inflexibly conscientious and self-denying. Several
+years of attachment have tried us both. She knows my faults; I know
+where her"--he paused for a moment--"her qualities might clash with
+mine. We spoke of this together; we considered every circumstance that
+could, by any remote chance, weigh against our common happiness."
+
+Pensee shook her head.
+
+"Of course, that was right," she said doubtfully.
+
+"It is no easy matter to get a promise from Agnes," he went on; "but
+when once given it is inviolate. This throws a grisly responsibility
+upon me. I must risk everything, if I am to do anything. You have
+expressed a dread which I have been endeavouring to stifle. I am making
+her wretched."
+
+"I don't say that _you_ are making her wretched; I say she seems
+disturbed and unsettled when she ought to be full of the brightest
+hopes."
+
+"Quite so. I fear the unsettlement is exceedingly great. A neutrality on
+your part is all I could in reason expect; but your counsel in such a
+grave matter----"
+
+Pensee summoned all her energy, and breathed a little prayer for the
+well-being of the two women whose lives were at stake.
+
+"I saw Agnes this morning," she said, speaking at a rapid pace; "she
+came up for some shopping, and she returned home directly after tea."
+
+"She ought to have told me that she was in town," he exclaimed.
+
+"My dear Beauclerk, you know her sweetness! She said, 'I don't wish to
+take up his time; an engagement ought not to be a servitude.' That is
+the reason why she did not tell you."
+
+"She ought to have told me," he repeated. "Such extreme delicacy was
+most uncalled for. It wasn't even friendly. When we were old friends,
+and nothing more, she would have told me."
+
+"Yes, when you were friends."
+
+"I think she gave me a nasty rap in so acting; I do, indeed. One would
+infer that I had failed in some ordinary attentiveness. It is a distinct
+reprimand."
+
+"You are quite wrong. She meant it in the noblest way."
+
+"Then it is a desperately near thing between noble conduct and a
+downright snub. I can't help lashing out about it."
+
+In Pensee's own private perception this outburst of temper was no bad
+sign. It convinced her, at least, of the sincerity of his feelings
+towards Agnes and his genuine desire to behave well at every point in
+their relationship.
+
+"Don't you understand," she said, "that Agnes _dares_ not love you. This
+being the case, I cannot see that she could go on in what might be
+called a natural way. Will you bear with me, and, if I am indiscreet,
+forgive me? She wants all the sympathy and support she can get. She is
+suffering very much from want of courage. She trusts, perhaps, in her
+friends' prayers. It seems as though something very momentous were going
+on, but that she has nothing to do but to wait for it. I think there
+may be a way out still; God may overrule people's hearts."
+
+She had never intended to say so much, and she trembled with an
+excitement which she could not subdue.
+
+"I must admit," said Reckage, "that for some time I have had a
+conviction, weaker or stronger, but, on the whole, constantly growing,
+that Agnes and I are unsuited to each other. I am too much accustomed to
+this idea to feel pain at it."
+
+"O, it makes my heart ache--I mean so much painfulness for every one
+concerned!"
+
+"This conviction must, sooner or later, lead me to action. The world is
+indulgent to the impetuous, because they appear strong; and it is most
+severe to those who hesitate, because hesitation is taken for a sign of
+weakness. Lookers-on have no patience with moral combats--and least of
+all in affairs of this kind. But no opinion will force me to do what I
+do not think right. If our engagement is a mistake, I don't intend to
+'lump it,' as they say. We must mend the evil. And, thank God, it is not
+too late. The merciful part is that in relieving my own mind I shall
+also greatly relieve hers. It is clear she doesn't love me. This last
+act proves the fact conclusively."
+
+Pensee did not agree with this, but she remained silent, fearing lest a
+rash word should spoil her good work.
+
+"For a long, long time," he continued, "my constant question has been,
+'Can this last? is it a delusion?' But I do not shut my eyes now. I knew
+they were all wrong at home when they made out that she was in love with
+me, and expected me to propose. We are both the victims of an
+impertinent, if well-meant, interference--what Robert calls 'the
+jabbering of the damned.' Poor Robert, we are forgetting him. I am
+ashamed to talk so much about myself."
+
+"In his case, I see no help but resignation to the will of God," said
+Pensee.
+
+"But that resignation is an awful thing," said Reckage. "It is a shade
+better than the atheism of despair; yet only a shade better."
+
+By degrees Pensee was learning why Robert had such a strong, tenacious
+attachment to this man. He was always faithful to his mood. All he did
+and all he said represented accurately all he thought and all he felt.
+Some live a dual life--he lived but one; and, with his faults,
+peculiarities, and egoism, there was never the least dissimulation. It
+was true that, if occasion required, he could hold his tongue; but he
+abhorred tact and hated doctrines of expediency--everything, in fact,
+which put any restraint upon the "development of his inclinations."
+
+The train was now approaching Dover. He decided to put his own troubles
+aside, and, out of mere decency, concentrate his thoughts on the severe
+trial in store for Orange.
+
+"This business about Parflete," said he, "is a great blow. One becomes
+indifferent to what is said of, or done to, one's self; but that all
+this uncommon, saddening, sickening trouble should come upon Robert is
+too bad. It seems a kind of hacking and hacking, bit by bit."
+
+"You are certainly very fond of him," said Pensee.
+
+"Yes, I am. He's so dependable."
+
+Pensee engaged a private cabin for the crossing, and she retired there
+with her maid. Too tired and over-strung to sleep, she lay down, closed
+her eyes, and lived again through the many fatiguing, agitating moments
+of that day. Her affection for Orange had been so steeped in
+hopelessness from the hour, months before, when he told her of his love
+for Brigit, that the wedding of these two had been a relief rather than
+a final anguish. The agonising possibilities which had sometimes darted
+into her mind would never again surprise her: the questions which she
+had always striven to prohibit were no longer even in existence. He had
+taken the unredeemable step: he was married. Jealousy had no part in her
+suffering. Robert had never given her the smallest right to feel
+slighted, or neglected, or abandoned. Some women are jealous by
+temperament, but the greater number are jealous only when their trust is
+insulted or their dignity brought down to the humiliating struggle for a
+lost empire. Empire over Orange she had never possessed or claimed: she
+could feel no bitterness, therefore, at the thought of the small place
+she occupied in his destiny. The sorrow which cut and severed her heart
+was loneliness. She felt that, after the wedding, she could hardly do
+anything or take interest in anything. It seemed as if the waters were
+gathered in heaps on either side; things, she thought, could not be
+better, or worse. God was with her still, and her children--her dear
+children--were with her still, but she could not disguise the greatness
+of the loss. Her single wish, as far as she dared have a wish, had been
+to benefit Robert and to win his confidence. She had seen his mind
+working in various directions, and although she was not, in the faintest
+sense, his fit companion intellectually, she had a knowledge and
+experience of life which made her friendship valuable--a gift worth
+offering to any man. She had been able to advise him. Brigit now had
+even this privilege also. "I shall seem an intruder," thought Pensee,
+again and again.
+
+It was altogether a terrible crisis. How she should struggle through all
+the parts of it, or what she should be when it was over, she could not
+trust herself to say. The world seemed too heavy a burden to be fought
+against. Yet with what thoughts and aspirations and earnest prayers she
+had stood by Brigit's side at the altar rails. She had been given a
+supernatural strength for the marriage ceremony. She was by nature and
+before all things, from first to last, unalterably a good friend, and at
+that moment of intensest difficulty the sight of Robert's happiness had
+made her oblivious to every other consideration. Glad tears had risen to
+her eyes. She had been swayed by one feeling--a deep, sincere
+thankfulness that his love-story, which had promised sorrow only from
+the very beginning, was ending, unexpectedly, so well. She might have
+feared that he was changing one form of unhappiness for another, but she
+knew his impatient spirit, and, knowing it, she could not imagine that
+any earthly pain could try him so sorely as a lifelong separation from
+the one woman he loved--loved to the pitch of madness.
+
+And then--in one moment--the strange tidings came which drove her from
+the stupor of resignation to fevers of anxiety more consuming than any
+she had ever felt before. A great flame, successive flames, of terror
+swept over her, as she feigned placid sleep in the little cabin, at the
+thought of the news poor Reckage would have to break on the morrow. How
+would Robert bear it? That he would act a noble and true part she could
+not doubt. But at a certain degree of suffering, the strongest man can
+think of nothing except himself, and she felt already, in anticipation,
+the dumb torture she would have to endure in looking on, helpless and
+unnoticed, at an agony which she could neither share nor relieve. The
+fear of losing him had been dreadful, but it was even more dreadful to
+know that although she might have, after all, a certain right now to
+offer him sympathy, she could never make him happy, that she could never
+hope to learn the secret regrets, griefs, and torments, the unspoken
+broodings which would surely enough prey upon his spirit. She pictured
+herself sitting at his side, or walking with him, for hours--he absorbed
+in his own sorrowful thoughts, she striving vainly to distract him by a
+tinkling prattle on every topic except the one nearest his heart. Oh,
+how fearfully wide asunder they were! A sensation of the enormous
+distance which can exist between two souls in daily companionship filled
+her with a sickening, shivering heaviness. She thought she would have to
+cry out because of the slow fire which seemed to scorch her dry and
+aching eyes. Robert would never really need her, never really care about
+her. This new trouble would take him farther away than ever. He would
+burn all his ships, and any poor little tenderness he might have had in
+the past for her, with them. Some great revulsion would take place in
+his character; he would perhaps grow silent, reserved, enigmatic, his
+face would show to the world the terrible, false, unknowable peace which
+is the veil of the dead. It was useless to smooth her difficulties which
+existed. It was foolish and wrong to encourage herself in unreal ideas
+about him. It was best always to be straightforward and admit the
+truth--no matter how bitter. And yet he had been kind and helpful to her
+in a way in which scarce any one else could have been. She clung to the
+belief that she would be able to do something to make his hour of trial
+less severe. The hope which insinuates itself into every unrequited love
+still lingered. He could at least always talk to her about Brigit: that
+common memory would be a constant link between them. She had earned his
+esteem, and perhaps with his esteem an affection deeper than he himself
+realised. Under the pressure of a sudden and tragical necessity, he
+would turn to her with the certainty that she would not fail him. She
+was modest enough about her own powers. A remark she had once heard
+Reckage pass, to the effect that religious women of devoted lives were
+unhappily conspicuous, as a rule, for feebleness of mind and strength of
+prejudice, haunted her as a kind of doom from which there was no appeal.
+She knew, too, the verdict usually passed on those of either sex who
+have the courage to maintain an unselfish attitude whether toward God or
+some fellow-creature. But here she comforted herself by deciding that
+her utter isolation in this universe rested on the fact that she did not
+much deserve to be loved by anybody. This granted--not without a
+pang--she felt the signs of weariness in her heart, but none of
+wavering. She resolved to be foolish in the eyes of the self-satisfied.
+
+Lord Reckage meanwhile was pacing the deck. His conversation with Pensee
+had cast a darkness over his spirit. He had made up his mind, weeks
+before, that the marriage years of his life would be the best, the most
+distinguished, and most useful. With the utmost pains he had chosen a
+wife. He had acted with the greatest caution in no weak or superficial,
+or haphazard, or fitful way. Nevertheless, the outlook was dismal. This
+first step in decline from his ideal caused him much pain and
+restlessness, and led him to think cynically of many doctrines to which,
+in serene moments, he had unconditionally subscribed. He compared his
+own case with Robert's. Robert, in his headstrong passion, had certainly
+rattled up sleeping lions, heedless of all consequences, and in defiance
+of every warning. He had now met, poor fellow, with an appalling
+chastisement, but could any one pretend that he had not brought it, to a
+great extent, upon himself? He (Reckage), however, had behaved, from
+first to last, in an unexceptionable manner. He had studiously avoided
+the one girl of whom he was inclined to be immoderately fond. It was
+true that he had practised this restraint less in her interest than his
+own. But this was because he feared--as every creature will fear by
+instinct its mortal enemy--the power of an ardent attachment. His mind
+had revolted in a panic at the thought of becoming dependent on a
+woman's humours. The noblest of the sex were capricious, and far and
+away the best course was to select a partner whose unavoidable nonsense
+would leave one, merely from indifference, undisturbed. Sara de
+Treverell, in the past, had been, by her vagaries, directly responsible
+for several sleepless nights, and a sleepless night was one of the few
+things he simply could not stand. Thoughts of her had seemed to unfit
+him for his work, to weaken his nerves, to act, in various ways, to his
+disadvantage. She had been exacting in her demands upon his nature. They
+were not uttered demands, or demands which he could formulate, but he
+had been conscious of them always. He had been obliged to pause and ask
+himself at every thought, at every step--"What would Sara say to this?"
+It was a tyranny--if not a species of witchcraft. And so he had
+determined to see her no more. Following the usual, most correct method
+in such procedures, he went abroad. After a week of irritating
+meditations, furtive, all but unconquerable desires, after he had passed
+the day on which it had been his custom for months to call upon her,
+after he had learned how to discipline the hours he had used to spend
+riding with her in the Row, he felt as a convalescent after some
+exhausting malady--quiescent, dulled, possessed by a drowsy stupidity,
+inaccessible to any serious emotion. He was cured of his fancy, although
+no effort of will could protect the soreness of the bruise. He had
+persevered in his course of treatment--congratulating himself, at the
+end, on his escape from a dangerous obsession. The picture of Sara grew
+paler and paler before his eyes--indeed, it seemed to fade all too
+quickly, and, with the perversity of consistent egoism, he felt many
+twinges of sadness to think that he had forgotten her so soon. His
+vanity would have preferred a longer combat--for even the most shallow
+admit the romantic admirableness of an obstinate love. Still, what could
+he ask better than this triumph over a cruel, an obstructive memory? He
+had regained, so he believed, his old independence as the man of action,
+energetic, self-controlled, moved by one passion only, and that the
+finest of all--ambition. In surveying once more the great design of his
+career, he found it an effort to bring up--from the far recesses of his
+experience--the poor little sentimental episode, so insignificant and
+commonplace, which, in a kind of aberration, he had taken for an affair
+of the heart. He returned to England. He threw himself with vigour into
+the questions which were then disturbing Churchmen. He revived a
+touching acquaintance with Agnes Carillon, an acquaintance which was
+peculiarly soothing to his preoccupied mind. Here was a girl, he
+thought, who could be a fit helpmate. She asked for nothing,
+absorbed nothing, and gave a great deal of gentle, kind companionship
+when he wanted it. When he did not want it, she understood
+perfectly--possessing, in an eminent degree, the rare domestic art of
+being able to make herself scarce--alike in his thoughts and his
+engagements. The truths did not occur to him that a woman in love could
+never have been so unnaturally prudent, or that a woman whom he loved
+could not have interested him so slightly. He took great pride in her
+perfect skin and hair and eyes, in her beautiful, graceful, and gracious
+manners, but his soul never kindled at her approach, his pulse beat no
+slower at her departure. He requited her agreeableness with respect. And
+so they had become engaged--to the unbounded gratification of all his
+relatives, amidst the congratulations of his friends. There seemed a
+certain shadowiness in his conception of their future existence together
+as man and wife: something which he recognised as an interior voice
+chimed in, from time to time, with provoking interrogations, mostly
+unanswerable. A plaintive need of happiness, melancholy, obscure, but
+recurrent, mixed in his fluctuating thoughts. Finally, it pursued him,
+haunted him, and caught him with the strange tenacity of an incorporeal
+grasp. Sara, now dethroned from her place of power, loomed in all his
+dreams. Irresistibly, he was drawn toward the forbidden recollection of
+her delightfulness. There seemed no longer any danger in these musings.
+He had entrusted his actual life to the safe-keeping of the nicest woman
+he had ever known. Where then was the harm in harking back, merely in
+reverie, to the frivolous, amusing phantom of a renounced sentiment?
+Yet, after a reverie of the kind, why did he often wonder how he and
+Agnes could look in one another's faces and pretend to any sort of real
+intimacy? Sara knew him better than he knew himself. Her sympathy ran
+into a hundred sinuosities--she understood his silence as well as his
+conversation. He was never conscious of the smallest strain, the least
+dissimulation, in her society. Beneath their curious disparities an
+identity seemed to unite them. There was an unrepenting quality in her
+conscience which braced and stimulated his moral courage. Agnes, on the
+contrary, with her instinct of behaviour, made him over-cautious and
+encouraged the tendency to indecision which interfered with the
+comfortable balance of his soul. And he wished his faculties to work
+with astronomic punctuality. It is certain, however, that he would have
+accepted his choice as a thing settled beyond any readjustment, but for
+the news of the Duke of Marshire's proposal, and the sight of Sara
+herself on the fatal afternoon when he was feeling especially forlorn.
+She had thrown him a glance in which defiance, disdain, and an
+indistinct affection were blended in one provoking dart. He was a
+moralist who believed that there is always, between men and women, the
+dormant principles of mistrust and hatred. He had discussed this theory
+frequently with Robert, who found the notion as repulsive as it was
+false. But it seemed a truth beyond contradiction to Reckage, who
+possessed, in his own mind, constant irrefutable testimony in support of
+the view. Sara had never before defied him. She had never before seemed
+to feel her power as a creature incomparably superior in brilliancy to
+all the other girls in their circle. She had never before seemed to
+pity him as a man who had feared to do what Marshire--a being considered
+remarkable only for his family and his fortune--had boldly, gladly
+volunteered to carry out to the ultimate consequence. That glance
+pierced his self-love, his pride, his will. After his long hesitations,
+after the wearisome, interminable debates between his judgment and his
+inclination, he decided suddenly, all at once, without further
+reflection, that he no longer belonged to himself. He was the slave once
+more of doubts, fears, and temptations. His excited nerves and troubled
+senses asserted their right to be regarded as threads, at least, in the
+web of destiny. From the hour of that chance encounter in the Park, till
+he and Sara met at Lord Garrow's that day, he had not been able to
+escape from the inexorable cruelty of an ill-used passion, once more, in
+full command. Every individual has his rule--could one but find it
+out--and a rule to which there are no exceptions. With Reckage it was
+simple enough: he invariably followed the line of his own glory. The
+distress he suffered--really, and not colourably--took its rise from the
+intervention of Marshire. He felt as a racing man feels when he sees a
+friendless horse, which he might have purchased, beat the Derby
+favourite by some three lengths and a half. He winced at the suspicion
+that he had committed an error in judgment, and lost a great
+opportunity. The words of Sir Piers Harding on the subject of audacity
+in love had fallen on his ears with startling force. It was an
+illustration of that old saying--"The appetite, the occasion, and the
+ripe fruit." Convinced now that his reputation, his career, and his
+comfort depended on his conduct toward Sara, all hesitation left him. He
+would have to drive Marshire, in confusion, from the field, and bear
+away the prize himself. Pensee's observations with regard to Agnes had
+cleared away most, if not all, of his difficulties in that particular
+quarter. No one had ever accused him of cowardice. Whenever he took
+refuge in procrastination or deceit, it was never because he was afraid,
+but in order that nothing might interfere with the purpose he had in
+hand. The growing miseries of the situation which he saw, already in
+part, served only to augment the violence of his resolve. His vanity
+forbade him to believe that Agnes would not suffer very much when he
+told her, as he intended, that they had both mistaken a profound
+esteem--based on reason--for love, which, as all the world admits, is
+something remote indeed from one's will and one's power. He was desirous
+to remain her friend, but he could not, without insincerity--and by
+God's grace, he would not--continue longer in a position which was false
+in itself and an injustice to each of them. He proposed to dwell very
+frankly, but in deep sadness, on the fact that although their engagement
+had been a seeming success--outwardly--the success had been by no means
+proved either to his satisfaction, or, he ventured to think, to hers.
+He would pray that she would not consider herself under any restraint
+in speaking freely to him, from her heart, at all times. He hoped that
+the inevitable criticism of malicious or ignorant persons would never
+shake her faith in his unwavering loyalty, his singular desire for her
+happiness. On the other hand, he did not wish to involve her in
+justifying his action to the world. There was no call for that. She
+might be assured that he would do as little as possible to protract the
+agony--he used the word advisedly--of their separation. He believed it
+would be the best way--if God gave them the ability--not to meet until
+they had trained themselves to the peaceful, sweet relationship of their
+first acquaintance. All this and more he composed and turned over in his
+mind as he paced the deck. His eyes frequently filled with tears, and he
+thought how little, how fearfully little, he had ever suspected this
+severance from a noble life with which he had wished most earnestly to
+join his own. He was unhappy according to the measure of his capacity,
+and he was genuine in so far as he regretted the necessary suffering of
+the innocent with the guilty. But guilt is in the intention, and he
+could say, with truth, that he had never intended to give pain, or to
+make trouble, in his life.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+The Southampton steamer approached St. Malo about three o'clock on the
+following afternoon. Robert and Brigit had spent the night on deck--it
+was better than going below into the close, dreary cabin--and so they
+counted the stars, and kept their gaze, through the vast reaches of
+atmosphere, for the first sight of land. The moon, then at its full
+strength, lit up the whole blue dome above them, and cast its glancing,
+silver path upon the water--a path which the ship ever crossed but never
+followed. On and on they sped, and, as their ears grew accustomed to the
+monotonous churning of the paddle-wheels, the silence seemed intense.
+The splendour of the night made sleep, to minds as passionate as theirs
+toward all manifestations of the world's beauty, impossible. Unconscious
+of any particular thought, they shared a dreamless reverie which was so
+perfect in its rest and so complete in its still contentment that they
+did not know that they were resting, nor could they realise that such
+sweet hours, even as bitter ones, do not loiter in their passing or come
+again. Soon enough Robert saw himself very far gone from the
+undissembled sternness of his old resolutions. If he could but be rid of
+that altogether! He thought he had obtained a mystic recognition of the
+terrorless but uncommunicating Joy of life which while men live they
+pursue, desiring it with the one human craving which survives every
+misfortune, every thwarted hope, all enslavement of the heart's small
+freedom--the thirst for happiness. Was man, whom God had made in His
+own Image, but a shadow on the unstable wind? Could it be true that he
+came in with vanity and departed in darkness, his soul bereft of God,
+knowing not his time, finding not the work that is done under the sun,
+born to companion worms in the dust? Should he remain unresisting and
+without influence on the decision of his own destiny? Yet he remembered
+the precept of Christ: "Whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and
+whosoever will lose his life for My sake shall find it"--words which put
+forth a great mystery, perhaps a warning. Plainly, in all that a man
+could bring to the world, or take from it, there was vanity and death;
+but many things were vain merely because they were not eternal, and many
+things perished because where life is, change must be. Immutable,
+permanent possessions were the gifts of God to men. But the gifts of men
+to God would always be imperfect--whether they offered the sacrifice of
+their wills or their imagined earthly happiness. Yet if this
+imperfection were a mean one, something less grand than the immeasurable
+sanctity of Divine strength made human and therefore sorrowful,
+therefore not omnipotent, therefore liable to error--where then was the
+merit of renouncing a manhood already too squalid to be endured, friends
+that were phantoms, loves that were lies, joys that were void promises
+invented by the cruel for the disappointment of the foolish? He looked
+down at Brigit, who, wrapped in her furs, was stretched out by his side,
+her beautiful, child-like countenance turned toward him, smiling in
+faith and deep unspeakable tenderness. He could hear her tremulous
+breath and catch the fragrance of her face, which, in the moonlight,
+seemed as white and delicate as a cloud. The knowledge that she belonged
+to him at last entered into his heart, his blood, his brain, his
+thoughts, became the very life within his life--an element which was
+neither wholly love nor wholly passion, but a necessity from which he
+could not depart and without which he would cease to be. All men need to
+have near them, allied in close association with them, either a force to
+strengthen their weakness or else a weakness which insists upon some
+demonstration of their strength. In conceivable circumstances it might
+be a duty to dissever such a bond; it might be a duty to die of
+starvation rather than steal a loaf, and, as death would ultimately
+quench the craving stomach, so a broken soul, in time, would cease
+lamenting for its maimed energy. Let heart-sickness pass beyond a
+certain bitter-point and the heart loses its life for ever. Had Robert's
+marriage been impossible, had he decided, on that account, to go away
+from Brigit's influence, had he vowed, in some paroxysm of despair, to
+see her no more, to pluck out his eye--to forget her--what would have
+happened? Would he have been able to say to himself at the end of three
+years, seven years, nine years, "I did my duty. I have my reward"? Is it
+so easy even to acquiesce in the great bereavements caused naturally,
+against our will, by death? Does one ever, in the hidden depths of the
+mind, mistake the cinders of a consumed anguish for the stars of peace?
+A man need not be a prophet in order to foresee the effect of certain
+measures on his own character. Indeed, if self-knowledge be not regarded
+as a sentinel to the judgment, its laborious acquisition would be worth
+the travail of no honest will. Gained, it remains like an interdict upon
+all undertakings, projects, ambitions, setting forth clearly all that
+one may, or may not, attempt in common life, and, above all, in
+heroism--heroism understood truly, not the false ideals of idle, untaxed
+sentiment. Robert shrank from examining the sharpest nail of the several
+which had been piercing his heart for weeks--from the day when he had
+first received the news of Parflete's death. Had he not often suspected,
+until then, that, for some reason, he had been called to renounce the
+hope of marriage? True, he had never been certain of this, and,
+certainly, the chain of events, even considered without prejudice,
+seemed altogether favourable to an opposite view. His resolution had
+been to remain single so long as he could not marry the woman of his
+choice. Firmly enough he had taken his stand on that ground, realising
+to the utmost every difficulty to be encountered, every interest to be
+thrown aside, from the exigencies of such a position. The
+misunderstandings which would arise, the restraint, the loneliness, the
+possible morbidity of his own feeling, the sure absence of charity in
+all outside criticism of his conduct, were not overlooked or
+under-estimated by a man so versed as himself in the tariff of the
+market-place. He had known full well that his decision, robbed of its
+romantic and picturesque motives, would affect very seriously every step
+in his career, and influence, as only violence to one's human affections
+can influence, his character, his mode of thought, his whole view of
+life and his work in life. This he had known--known, that is to say, as
+much as anything may be known of a plan not yet executed and destined to
+a slow accomplishment which finds its final seal of success or failure
+neither in this existence nor in death, but beyond the grave. Now,
+however, that the exterior obstacles to a happier scheme were apparently
+removed, the more formidable opposition of his own secret ideals stirred
+ominously in his conscience. Men's designs are never so indefinite and
+confused as when they meet with no outward resistance. A close attack
+has proved the salvation of most human wills and roused the energy of
+many drooping convictions. It is seldom good that one should enter into
+any vocation very easily, sweetly, and without strife. The best
+apprenticeships, whether ecclesiastical or religious, or civil or
+military, or political or artistic, are never the most calm. Whether we
+study the lives of saints or the lives of those distinguished in any
+walk of human endeavour where perfection, in some degree or other, has
+been at least the goal, we always find that the first years of the
+pursuit have been one bitter history of temptations, doubts,
+despondencies, struggles, and agonising inconsistencies of volition. To
+natures cold originally, or extinguished by a false asceticism, many
+seeming acts of sacrifice are but the subtle indulgence of that curious
+selfishness which is not the more spiritual because it is independent of
+others, or the less repulsive because it is most contented in its
+isolation from every responsibility. A renunciation means the deliberate
+putting away of something keenly loved, anxiously desired, or actually
+possessed; it does not mean a well-weighed acceptance of the lesser,
+rather than the greater, trials of life. When Orange had faced the
+desolate road before him it was as though men ploughed into his heart
+and left it mangled. Submission to the severities of God whatever they
+might be, obedience to authority, a companionless existence--these were
+the conditions, he knew, of the meagre joy permitted to those who, full
+of intellect, feeling, and kindness, undertook the rigorous discipline
+of a solitary journey. The world seldom takes account of the unhappy
+sensitiveness in devout souls; it thinks them insensible not only
+because they know how to keep silent, but how to sacrifice their secret
+woes. And what, after all, are the gratified expectations of any career
+in comparison with its hidden despairs?
+
+It may be a fact that love, in every imaginative mind, approaches
+madness; on the other hand, the least imaginative are often not merely
+attracted but carried away, without any sort of consent, by some
+over-mastering human magnetism. To love well is a quality in
+temperament, just as to preach well, or to conduct a siege well, or to
+tend the sick well, or, in fact, to do anything well, is a special
+distinction, a ruling motive in the great pursuit of absolute
+felicity--a pursuit which is the inalienable right of all human
+creatures, whether fixed mistakenly in this world, or wisely in the
+next. No calling can be obeyed without suffering, but as in the old
+legend each man's cross was found exquisitely fitted to his own back, so
+a vocation is found to be just when, on the whole, one has fewer
+misgivings that way than in any other. By the exercise of
+self-discipline one may do much that is not repulsive only but
+suicidal--a man may so treat his spirit that it becomes a sort of
+petrified vapour. When, however, he has dosed, reduced, tortured, and
+killed every vital instinct in his nature till he is an empty shape and
+nothing more, he must not flatter himself that he has accomplished a
+great work. Life is not for the dead, but for the living, and in
+crucifying our flesh we have to be quite certain that we are playing no
+ghost's farce, inflicting airy penalties on some handfuls of harsh
+dust. Robert could not feel that absorbing interest in himself which
+enables so many to cut themselves adrift, painfully, no doubt, from
+every creature and all impersonal anxieties. If he wished for fame,
+power, wealth, it was that he might use them to the advantage of his
+friends, or for the reparation, in some degree, of his father's sin. But
+all the joy and all the melancholy in love give a free rein to egoism,
+and now that he had gained, as he believed, the desire of his eyes, the
+confused, tyrannical, inexplicable, triumphant selfishness dormant in
+him, as in all of us, began to assert its terrible power. He forgot the
+agonies, storms, and fevers of the past. Work had not always been able
+to dominate his unrest. There had been times when he had been compelled
+to follow the beckoning dreams; when, in tightening his clasp about the
+mockeries of his hope, he lost the pale happiness which he held already.
+Whole days had passed when some oppressive thought had spread its dark
+wings, as a bird of prey, over his whole being, crushing him gradually
+down to the earth. Now the occasion, the solitude, the glory of the
+night cast their spell over his soul. For the first time his emotion, so
+long dumb and imprisoned, found speech. Brigit listened, almost afraid,
+to his burning words, which, new and strange to her, were, in reality,
+but the echo of his interior life, his secret intimate thoughts, the
+pent-up eloquence of a latent habitual devotion long distrusted for its
+very strength and kept till that hour in strict silence, lest in the
+torrent of feeling it should say too much. The love to which he had long
+since surrendered himself now had complete possession of him. He spoke
+as he had never spoken before--as he never spoke again. The storm was
+restrained, subservient possibly still, but it was there, not to be
+forbidden, denied, or gainsayed. One has to be very strong in order to
+support the realisation of a long deferred, almost abandoned, hope.
+Affliction seems to intensify a personality, adding to it a
+distinctness, a power altogether commanding and irresistible, but even
+in our purest happiness we lose something of ourselves, and become,
+momentarily at least, less our own masters, and more pliant to the
+reproof of chance, the sport of destiny. As Robert uttered his
+passionate confession, he was conscious that much in him which had once
+seemed strong was conquerable enough, and, in the torture of the
+indescribable variety of vague, menacing feelings which this suspicion
+called forth, he revolted against the influence which held him, which
+left him neither liberty, nor security; which, for a few days of mad
+exultation, cost him a thousand bewildering, desolating fears. Did he
+guess that when one most eagerly desires happiness, one is most near to
+it? Already, he remembered, with a sudden pallor, and a sharp
+contraction of the lips, that death, in time, would certainly claim both
+of them, and his soul was pierced at the thought, for nothing seemed
+imaginably so perfect as the wild gladness of that poor human hour then
+gliding, with pitiless beats, toward the past. Already the moon had
+ceased to weave her magic; the sun rose over the unrebukable sea, and
+the distant coast, obscured in a purple vapour, seemed but a line of
+darkness against the flushed horizon. The sky was grey, opalescent in
+the north, tenderest green and azure in the east, while large,
+motionless clouds, as blue as vine-clad hills, shadowed in great
+clusters the vast canopy. But if the dawn of day wrought a progressive
+disenchantment of the dreamer, Robert felt with the recurrence of the
+morning the usual prayer rise to his lips in a long weeping,
+inarticulate cry to God--"Thou knowest that I love Thee: Thou knowest
+that all my life is but a desire of Thee: Thy Will, not mine." And he
+heard again the promise: "_Thou art My servant, I have chosen thee, and
+not cast thee away. Fear thou not, for I am with thee: be not dismayed,
+for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee: yea, I will help thee._" As
+the silent disquietude of night gave place to the intense tranquillity
+of day, the impenetrable secret of life, though still profound,
+unviolated, and eluding, was hidden in a shining, though not a blinding,
+mist. Was night less night because it paled gloriously before the sun?
+Was day less day because it darkened into evening? Was joy a false thing
+because it passed? Did not sorrow pass also? If that sweet journey was
+the first and last in all his life, was it not still a miracle of
+blessing, nay, every blessing, to have known even once the power of
+mortal happiness?
+
+"What are you thinking of?" asked Brigit suddenly, touching his arm with
+her hand.
+
+"I am thinking that there is but one way of resisting the woe of
+life--the infinite must oppose the infinite. Infinite sorrow must be met
+by infinite love."
+
+"I suppose we have the sorrow, and the infinite love is God's. We
+mustn't call even our love infinite, Robert."
+
+He hesitated for a few moments before he replied--
+
+"I call it no name."
+
+"Still," she said, "the very book in which the vanity of all things is
+most insisted on has lived itself nearly three thousand years. Solomon
+has given the lie to his own despair of being remembered. This is why I
+never feel sad now when I think about the other fears which made him
+discontented."
+
+"Were they fears? I believe he wanted to conquer the world, which is
+strong, and his own weakness, which was even stronger, as an adversary.
+We must know the measure of a man's desires before we can sound the
+depths of his regrets."
+
+Again she put out her hand, but this time she took his, following the
+instinct of a child who finds itself with a trusted companion in a
+gloomy road.
+
+"Nothing unknown can be wished for," she said gently, "and so, if some
+few things did not last, we should not have this dissatisfaction at the
+thought of their perishing. But what is troubling you? The greatest
+cross is to be without a cross. You, dearest, are never at ease unless
+you are at least suffering tortures for some friend."
+
+"I am thinking of myself now--myself only. I can't forget that every
+supreme blessing must be bought with long sadness, both before and
+after, and now we are together, I am wondering what I should do--if--if
+we were separated. I must have the courage to face that thought. I can't
+put it away because it has defied me, and when a thought defies me, I
+have to meet it fairly. I do not believe in denying its force, or
+running away in an opposite direction. I hear its argument and I try to
+answer it."
+
+She moved towards him and said in a low voice--
+
+"I have one prayer, and this is that I may outlive you. When you die, I
+shall soon follow you. It won't seem so very long. But if I should die
+first I should have to wait, because you would never yield, and your
+grief would cut sharply and slowly, a little more and a little more each
+day. And although I might be with you, you could not see me. I should
+know all your thoughts and yet I could say nothing. Almighty God is too
+kind to let me be so unhappy after I am dead. This is 'the confidence
+wherein I trust.' This is why I have no fears now. We may have great
+trials--how can we expect to be exempt from them? But we must help each
+other to bear them and then they will seem more precious than joys. You
+see, don't you? You understand, don't you?"
+
+He could not trust himself to reply. There are certain utterances,
+certain turns of thought, which are so restricted to one sex or the
+other, so exclusively feminine or masculine, as the case may be, that
+their entire comprehension by both sexes is not possible. Intuition,
+imagination, sympathy may help a great deal; men and women will accept
+much from each other which they cannot to their reasoning satisfaction
+account for, and, if the difference serves only to enhance, by its
+mystery, the melodiousness of the eternal human duet, it also proves
+that, while the singers may be in harmony, they are never in absolute
+unison.
+
+"You know how much I love you," said Brigit, "you know it. Yet there is
+an interior cloister of your mind which you keep wholly to yourself. You
+never ask me there. I watch your face--it tells me nothing. You have not
+yet made me your friend. If you were in trouble you would go to Pensee,
+because she is older and she is used to responsibilities. But you hide
+things from me because you are afraid of giving me pain."
+
+"There is reason enough why I should not tell you of every passing mood,
+nor draw you into some invincible personal sadness, and why I should not
+invite you into the 'interior cloister' of my mind. Nobody deliberates
+to do what he cannot help. There is always something questioning within
+me, and a truth is not to be set aside by any other truth whatever. We
+can only fix our jaws and grip our hands in useless wonder at the
+contradictions of the soul. I would tell you all my heart," he added,
+with a laugh, "but it would take too long!"
+
+He had been startled by the acuteness of her perception. Too probably he
+had carried his reserve to the selfish pitch, and in over-mastering,
+with silence, his own moods, afflicted her who had become now, by love,
+inseparable from his spiritual as well as his outward life. But there is
+something in beauty--just as there is something in youth--which one
+fears to disturb, lest a change should alter, or mar, in the faintest
+degree, the sufficient loveliness, the unconscious charm. Is it not for
+this cause that many dependent natures find classic perfection cold,
+superb scenery unsympathetic, and the spectacle of careless happiness
+embittering? Others, of imaginative temperament, prefer that their idols
+should remain impassive, and, granted the inspiration arising from a
+fair appearance, ask no more, but find their delight in bestowing, from
+the riches of their own gratitude, adorable attributes and endless
+worship. Orange, as many other men of idealising tendencies, took his
+human solace for the discouragements, fatigues, and ordeals of life in
+the mere existence of the woman he loved. He was at the moment of
+humility which is the first and last in all really great passions. He
+asked for nothing; it was all too glorious even to have the privilege of
+offering gifts, of feeling the readiness to die ten deaths for her sake,
+of finding all the recompenses of eternity in the soft depths of her
+bright eyes. But as he was too much in earnest to analyse these
+sentiments, he could neither gauge his own reticence nor justify it to
+Brigit herself. Nor could she, with all her tenderness and womanly
+instincts, help him in that matter--their one possibility of
+estrangement. She lacked the knowledge which renders verbal confidences
+unnecessary; she was too loving and too human to be happy as an
+inspiration and an inspiration only; she also had a great desire to
+give, to aid, to prove her devotion, to be the friend and the
+fellow-pilgrim.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+Brilliant sunlight lit up the grey spires and threatening pinnacles of
+St. Malo. The back of the ancient fortress was hidden in white mist, but
+the houses which rose above the battlements facing the harbour, and the
+shops and little taverns near the quay, shone out in brightness, their
+windows glittering under the sky where straying clouds, driven by the
+wind, were melting, as they fled, into the all-encompassing blue ether.
+Some pigeons and wild gulls circled above the earthworks, darting down,
+at times, between the massive oak piles which, forced deep into the
+sand, were covered with shining seaweed. The piercing note of the
+military bugle, the crack of the cabmen's long whips, the clatter of
+wooden shoes, and the Angelus bells then chiming, made up a volume of
+sound which fell on Robert's ears with all the poignant strangeness of
+an old song heard again after many years. A hundred memories flocked
+into his mind at the first distant view of that familiar scene: memories
+of his boyhood, its errors, its visions, its ambitions; his revolt
+against nature as he understood it, and his desire to keep his heart
+and soul and senses for the service of God, and the custody of his own
+ideals. The very centre of his thoughts was here: here he had found the
+first beginnings of his faith and love. How often he had walked alone
+upon those ramparts with his New Testament and the _Morte d'Arthur_,
+striving, in the fervour of romantic sentiment, to combine the standards
+of knightly chivalry with the austere counsels of the gospel. The
+divinity of Christ is the object of eternal contemplations, and at every
+age--not of the world only, but of the individual--His Humanity, under
+our fresh knowledge, demands a different study and a fuller
+understanding. What changes, therefore, experience and suffering had
+wrought in those early, untried speculations! The ideals remained, but
+they made for swords, not peace; the sweetness of the dream had become
+an inflexible law of conscience; the doctrine of a transcendent disdain
+of this world, accepted in solitude by the obscure youth brought up in a
+provincial town, had exacted its tax to the uttermost farthing from the
+man who struggled now with the rich and powerful in a great city of the
+great universe of affairs.... He thought of his dead godmother, Madame
+Bertin, with her still, pale face and beautiful hands--a cold, blameless
+woman who had treated him kindly and misunderstood him always. She had
+been his father's friend; she had loved him, in her own stern, silent
+fashion, for his father's sake. O, if she might only know now how much
+he treasured every impression he had formed of her strong character!
+She had given him all the tenderness she had, and all the motherly
+influence his childhood had received. What might his life have been
+without that early association with a noble if somewhat restricted
+nature? But these and similar thoughts, while they went deep, passed
+swiftly and did not return again till a very different moment, when they
+came with agony and remained for ever.
+
+He and Brigit were the last to leave the boat. They had been so happy
+there that, by an instinct, they lingered behind the others, unwilling
+to break the enchantment of their isolation from the land, and
+half-dreading the unknown trials, or joys, which awaited, surely enough,
+their first steps upon the soil. As they crossed the plank they looked
+back, obeying a common impulse, at the deserted deck. Their chairs had
+already been moved away, and the leeward corner, which had seemed so
+much their own, was filled up by a small group of sailors who were
+quarrelling about the division of _pourboires_. The drive to Miraflores
+is long and winding, past several small villages, and approached finally
+through a large tract of fields and orchards. But for the changing
+crimson of the vines, it might have been August weather. Robins,
+however, were singing, and the golden, brown, and russet butterflies of
+autumn were floating languidly above the wayside hedges. The cawing of
+rooks, the cooing of wood-pigeons, and the hum of insects invaded the
+stillness of the lonely farms which, at long distances, gave picturesque
+evidence of the human toil expended on the careful, rather melancholy
+charm of that northern landscape. The Villa Miraflores--an elaborate
+reproduction of the celebrated Villa Madama near Rome--stood on a wooded
+hill rising out of a river, facing the rocky sea-coast. Built by the
+Archduke Charles of Alberia for his morganatic wife, Henriette Duboc,
+and pulled down since for the erection of a convent, it is never
+mentioned in history, and it has been long forgotten by the few
+inhabitants of the neighbourhood. But as the young couple entered the
+lodge gates that day, and drove along the stately avenue, the beautiful
+ill-fated structure rose before them as some castle in the air brought
+down to earth by a magician's wand. Was this their home? They dared not
+speak lest the vision should fade too soon. But Orange remembered it
+all--this was no dream. There were the winding alleys leading to peeps
+of water, land and sky; there was the path which he had followed, years
+before, in search of his destiny. He drew a long breath, drinking in the
+intoxicating strength of the fresh sea air wafted through pine-trees.
+The atmosphere was charged with the very madness of youth and joy. Who
+could have hoped for such a miracle as this? Had the whole course of
+fate a like to show? Did it not seem a triumph over life and its
+threatened deceptions? His own servant and Brigit's maid--whom they had
+sent there some days before--were watching for them at the open door,
+and the sight of those well-known faces gave him a still further
+assurance of the scene's actuality. They crossed the hall without
+noticing a small blue telegram on one of the malachite tables. They
+walked together through every room, wondering at their treasures,
+looking out of the windows, amazed, bewitched, gradually becoming used
+to the fact of each other's company in such a solitude. What were the
+woes and cryings of the outer world to them, lost in the impenetrable
+silence of that retreat? A strange, double sensation of delight and
+forgetfulness surged in them both. All knowledge of disturbing human
+influences, of the fret, and discord, and inquietude of common existence
+seemed trivial and even false. They looked with confidence into each
+other's eyes, as though they were the sole inhabitants of some
+brilliant, inaccessible star set far above the earth and its evil. They
+were to remain there a month--one month at least--and after that would
+trials, or labour, or sorrow deluge in bitterness the sweet, eternal
+recollection of such days? A table had been set for them in one of the
+small pavilions leading on to a balcony. The scent of flowers, mingling
+with the sunlight, came in through the open windows, bringing the
+garden's freshness to the faded lilacs on the carpet and tapestry.
+Brigit went to the looking-glass, took off her hat, and apologised for
+her "frightful appearance." She had thrown her veil and gloves on the
+sofa, and the mere sight of them there gave a homeliness to that
+forsaken room which, with its rococo decorations, painted ceilings, and
+gilded doors, had something of the dead gaiety of an empty theatre.
+Brigit made the tea, following the English custom taught her by Pensee.
+Was the water boiling? Did he like sugar? How absurd not to know whether
+one's husband took cream! The two had seen so little of each other in
+domestic surroundings that this little commonplace intimacy had an
+intoxicating charm.
+
+"Are you happy?" she asked suddenly. "Do you know that you are all I
+love in the world, and I am yours for ever and ever?"
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+"And how much do you love me?"
+
+"I shall never be able to say how much."
+
+She took his hand, kissed it, pressed it to her heart, then asked him,
+with some confusion, if he liked grapes better than pears.
+
+"You are so beautiful," he replied.
+
+"Not to-day," she answered; "to-day I am quite dull. But you are
+handsome. I saw them looking at you on the boat. And I was proud--oh, so
+proud to think that you were mine."
+
+When they had finished their meal, she opened the piano and struck out
+some chords, which echoed with a kind of wail through the long corridors
+outside. The instrument was out of tune, and the strings seemed
+muffled.
+
+"Something is inside," she said.
+
+They looked and discovered a few sheets of music which had slipped down
+upon the wires. The sheets were dusty, stained with age, blurred by
+damp, but one bore the name "Henriette" written in the corner in a
+large, defiant hand. Joining the fragments, they found it was an
+arrangement in manuscript of Poe's ballad, "Annabel Lee."
+
+    _"It was many and many a year ago,
+     In a kingdom by the sea,
+    That a maiden there lived whom you may know
+      By the name of Annabel Lee;
+    And this maiden she lived with no other thought
+      Than to love and be loved by me._
+
+    _But our love it was stronger by far than the love
+      Of those that were older than we--
+      Of many far wiser than we--
+    And neither the angels in heaven above,
+      Nor the demons down under the sea,
+    Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
+      Of the beautiful Annabel Lee."_
+
+As Brigit read aloud these words of haunting pathos, the very trees,
+rustling outside in the October wind, the far-away sound of the waves
+beating upon the sand, seemed to Robert an ominous accompaniment--half a
+warning, half a promise.
+
+"I wonder," he said, "I wonder why that was there?"
+
+He was uneasy, he could not say why. He was conscious of some influence
+in the room. He felt, unaccountably, that they were not alone. Looking
+round for some confirmation of this strange instinct his eyes fell on
+the small blue envelope which had been placed on the mantelpiece by his
+servant. It was addressed to himself. Fortunately, whilst he was opening
+it, Brigit's attention was still riveted on the old song which she was
+humming over at the piano. She spoke to him three times before he
+answered.
+
+"This telegram," he said, at last, trying to control his voice, "is from
+Reckage. He is on his way now to see me."
+
+"He is coming here? Why is he coming here?"
+
+He put his arm round her, in a desperate, long embrace, kissing her
+face, her eyes, her hair.
+
+"What is it, Robert?" she said, clinging to him, for she heard something
+like a sob under his breath. "You have had bad news. You must tell me."
+
+"It may not be so serious ... perhaps it is badly worded ... but Pensee
+is coming with him and he says quite plainly that there is some legal
+difficulty about our marriage."
+
+"Some legal difficulty!" she repeated. "What is the use of that now? I
+can't leave you again. I'll die first. I can't bear it. O, Robert, I am
+so tired of the law. There are no laws for the birds, or for the
+flowers, or for the trees, or for any thing that is happy! Why should we
+be made so miserable--just to please the magistrates and mayors!"
+
+"But it is more than that--I am certain. Suppose it has something to do
+with Parflete?"
+
+"With Wrexham? How could that be? He is dead."
+
+"He may not be dead."
+
+She sank down to the floor on her knees.
+
+"O my God! You know that he is living."
+
+"Reckage doesn't say so. But would he and Pensee come unless they felt
+we should need them?"
+
+"I need no one except you. I don't want to see them. I don't want to
+hear their news. They are killing you. You seem calm, but your face! you
+have never looked like this before. O, darling, it can't be what you
+think it is."
+
+He lifted her from the ground and took her in his arms again, as though
+he could defy the cruel, invisible fate which had decreed their
+separation.
+
+"In any case," he said, "I won't give you back--I cannot. It is too much
+to ask. You are mine--you were never his--never. God is not unjust, and
+this is unjust. As for other people and outside opinion, they have not
+mattered to me at any time, and least of all can they matter now. I
+won't give you back."
+
+She held him closer, already feeling, in spite of his words, the first
+agony of their inevitable farewell.
+
+"You love me!" she said, "you must never leave me. Kiss me, and promise
+me that you will never leave me."
+
+Grief and horror had broken down every barrier of reserve between them.
+The pent-up passion on his side, the intense unconscious tenderness on
+hers seemed to meet and blend in the one consuming thought that they
+belonged to each other--that, in the awful struggle between the force of
+circumstances and the force of life--they might have to part.
+
+"Why should we two matter in so large a world?" she cried. "Surely we
+need not suffer so much just for the discipline of our own souls? I
+cannot, cannot, cannot go away. I can't live without you. I can't die
+without you. I am tired of being alone. I am tired of trying to forget
+you. And I have tried so hard."
+
+Her face, from which all colour and joy and animation had departed,
+seemed like a June rose dead, in all its perfection, on the tree. One
+may see many such in a garden after a sudden frost.
+
+"You mustn't leave me. They all frighten me. I have no one but you," she
+continued; "God will understand. He doesn't ask any one to be alone. He
+wasn't even crucified--alone. He didn't enter into Paradise--alone. Ask
+me to do anything, but don't ask me to go away--to go back to Wrexham.
+You are much stronger than I am. If you thought you ought to cut out
+your heart by little pieces, you would do it. But you must think of me.
+They may have all my money--that is all they care for. But I must have
+you."
+
+Although she made the appeal, he had resolved, in silence, long before,
+that, come what might, he would not give her back. The decision rose on
+the instant, without hesitation, doubt, or misgiving--a deliberate
+choice between two courses.
+
+"You cannot return to Parflete," he said quietly. "Don't despair. Your
+marriage with him may be annulled. That aspect of the question is
+revolting, abominable; but we are both in such a false position now that
+we owe it as much to other people as we do to ourselves to put
+everything in a true light. You are so brave, Brigit----"
+
+"I am tired of being brave."
+
+Her slender arms tightened about his neck; he could feel, from the whole
+abandonment of her attitude and the slight weight of her childish form,
+how little fitted she was physically for the squalid ordeal of the
+law-courts. If she could live at all through horrors of the kind, it
+would have to be by a miracle. And has one the right to hope for
+miracles where the question of happiness or unhappiness in human love is
+the egoistic point at stake? But, right or no right, there was in them
+both that supreme and fatal force of affection which, if it be unusual,
+is at least usual enough to be at the root of most mortal tragedies.
+
+"I am tired or being brave," she repeated. "I want to rest."
+
+In the mirror opposite them he saw the reflection of the bright garden
+outside. How calm and still it seemed! Had he wandered there, years
+before, with a beating heart, in search of his destiny, merely to find
+it at last after the humiliation of a public scandal? Had his idyllic,
+almost mystical romance, with all its aspirations, grace, and
+unspeakable strength, been given to him just to be called from the
+house-tops and discussed in the streets? Was this the end of all sublime
+ideals? Did every delicate, secret sentiment have to endure, soon or
+late, the awful test of degradation and mockery? Did it have to
+come--this terrible day of trial when the Love which moves the sun and
+the other stars had to pass through the common sieve with dust, ashes,
+and much that was infinitely viler? No, he told himself, no: ten
+thousand times, no.
+
+"Listen," he said, "listen. You need not go back to him: he knows--every
+one knows now that we love each other. We can't live together because
+our marriage is not a marriage. Your marriage with Parflete was not a
+marriage, but it appears so to the world. Is it worth while to undeceive
+the world? When I think of the cost of such a proof--I say it is too
+great. But if you are courageous--and you will be for my sake--we can
+defy every one--on one condition. We must be sure of _ourselves_. We
+must know that we can depend on ourselves. We may have to separate now
+for some months--perhaps a year--perhaps longer; we must school
+ourselves to look upon each other as friends--friends, nothing more. It
+will be very hard--for me, and it is on my account only that we must
+separate now. But you will accept this, even if you cannot understand
+it, because my life here depends on you. I don't say anything about my
+happiness. I leave that out of the reckoning. But if I am to live--to
+get through the day's work, I must love you and I must see you. Later
+on, we may be able to meet quite often. This will be something to which
+I can look forward. All this has been in my mind always--ever since I
+first met you. I feel now as though every thought, every hour, every
+event of the last five months has been a preparation for this moment. On
+one point, however, I have never wavered. We can't desecrate our love by
+some odious law-suit. If this life were all, it would be different. But
+it isn't all. It seems as though we are not to be everything to each
+other. Yet we can be more than everything--we can be one existence even
+if we cannot be man and wife. We can help each other, we may see each
+other--in time."
+
+"In time?" she repeated. The certainty that she would have to be
+deprived of his presence for the greater part, at all events, of her
+life came over her with intolerable anguish, and with it she felt a
+presentiment of the future struggle to be waged against the profound
+instinct which drew them, with all the strength of a river's current,
+toward each other.
+
+"No, no," she said, "if you send me away, I shall die. They frighten me;
+they tell me lies. My mother is dead; my father is dead. I have no one
+but you. You can't forsake me. You love me too much. I know you won't
+leave me."
+
+Her innocence made the recklessness of her appeal the more compelling.
+The beseeching, intense affection of her soul transfigured her face with
+an almost unearthly sweetness. White, trembling, and despairing she laid
+her head upon his shoulder, holding him with both arms, and swaying from
+the agony of a grief without hope and without tears.
+
+"You must try to understand," he said, "you must try. You are so
+young--such a child, but you do know that we can't live together, in the
+same house, if our marriage is not valid. That would compromise your
+honour. How else can I say what I must say?"
+
+"I shouldn't mind. God would understand."
+
+"But the world wouldn't understand. And one has to avoid the appearance
+of evil."
+
+"They may say anything they please. I should be very proud if they
+misjudged me for your sake."
+
+Then a thought suddenly pierced her. What would they say about his
+honour? Would the world misjudge him? Her weakness became strength under
+coercion of this new possibility; her cheeks burned at the light thrown
+upon her first selfish impulse.
+
+"O, why have I said such things?" she said, tearing herself away from
+him, "and I used to think once that women like me were too bad to live.
+I used to wonder how they could be so evil. That was because I had
+never been tempted. And now I see how hard it is--how hard to fight. It
+is so easy to judge others when you are married to some one you love.
+But I begin to understand now--I ought to hide myself in a cell and pray
+till I die for women who are unhappy."
+
+She pushed back the soft golden hair which had fallen a little over her
+face, brightening its sorrow. Every feature quivered under the invisible
+cutting hand of cruel experience. In those last sharp moments of
+introspection she had gained such a knowledge of suffering that a fire
+seemed to have consumed her vision of life, reducing it to a frightful
+desert of eternal woe and unavailing sacrifice. Partially stunned, and
+partially blinded by misery, she felt the awful helplessness and pain of
+what is sometimes called the second birth, a crisis in all human
+development when the first true realisation comes that the soul is a
+stranger, a rebel, strong as eternity, weak as the flesh, free as the
+illimitable air.
+
+"O, I do understand!" she said. "I have been pretending to myself that
+we could do impossible things. But I didn't want to speak my own
+death-warrant. No, don't come to me. Don't say one word to me. I know so
+well now what must be done. We mustn't hesitate--we mustn't think. It is
+something to know where you can't trust yourself. I can't trust my heart
+at this moment. So I must just depend on the things I have been
+taught--things which I accepted, oh, so easily, when I applied them to
+other people. You must go away. You must leave me here with the
+servants. Esther is good and kind. Pensee chose her for me. You can
+leave me with her."
+
+She supported herself by holding, in a desperate grasp, the heavy silk
+draperies by the window. The image of her, leaning against the faded
+scarlet curtain, tall, fragile, yet resolute, with heaving breast,
+closed eyes, and pallid lips, remained before him night and day for
+months, and though, in the process of time, the vividness of the picture
+waned, it lived always among his unforgettable impressions.
+
+"You must leave me," she said again.
+
+"Yes, but I will come in the morning."
+
+"You will rest, you will try to sleep--for my sake."
+
+This time she lifted her head, and, turning towards him, met once more
+the glance which she felt must have called her to life had she been
+dead.
+
+"You will come in the morning?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Once more she held out her arms. He kissed her mouth, and eyes, and hair
+once more. Neither could speak, and both were tearless. Then she went
+with him to the door, opened it, and seemed to lead the way through the
+long corridor, down some stone steps to the garden. She knew that he
+would not leave the spot while she was in sight. So she walked back to
+the house alone and mounted the steps, turning at each one to wave her
+hand. He saw her enter at last, and close the window. Then she fell and
+was helpless till she was found by Esther. Robert watched till the
+lights were lit, and for some hours after they were finally
+extinguished. The stars came out, and the moon made the languid night
+seem white with beauty. Orange walked toward the town and the small
+cemetery where Madame Bertin was buried. Then he threw himself by the
+lonely grave which held the one creature on earth whom he seemed to have
+a right to love without scruple and without restraint. And there he
+remained till daybreak, weeping.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+Lady Sara had written to the Duke of Marshire, and so fulfilled, in
+part, her promise to her father. But, while she said much that was
+graceful, coquettish, and characteristic, the Duke felt unable to regard
+it as an acceptance of his offer. She was very kind with that kindness
+which has no sort of encouragement in it. Among other things, she begged
+for another week on the plea that "seven days furnished a very short
+speculation when the result might possibly decide the whole course of
+her life." In much anxiety, for his Grace was very much in love, he
+composed, after three hours of careful thought, a reply, and, having
+read the least tender but most sensible passages to his lawyer, he
+himself left the communication, together with a beautifully bound copy
+of "Lettres Choisies," by Madame de Sevigne, at St. James's Square. The
+parcel and the missive arrived when the young lady was reading and
+re-reading two other letters which she had received that morning from
+the North of France. One was from Lord Reckage; the other was from
+Pensee Fitz Rewes. Their respective contents ran as follows:--
+
+     MY DEAR SARA (I love the sweeter name of Valerie: may I not use it
+     sometimes?),--I shall never be able to get through all I have to
+     say--no words can reflect the fulness of human nature in such
+     suffering as it has been my privilege--and sorrow--to witness here.
+     In doubt, they tell us, we must stand on the rule of authority. But
+     for this principle I should find it hard to reconcile myself to
+     this deplorable affair of parting two people who love each other,
+     evidently, in an almost lyric sense. You, I know, will understand
+     that this expression contains no sneer at a frame of mind
+     altogether surpassing my own capacity for idealism. Are there many,
+     or any of us nowadays, who feel that there are certain things which
+     we must do, not do, or perish eternally? I have never detected this
+     narrow, vindictive, inherently superstitious view in Orange. I am
+     forced to the conclusion, therefore, that his truest happiness
+     consists always in his submission to the Will (as he understands
+     it) of God (as he understands Him). Men are like horses--unless
+     they are born with staying powers in them, no amount of training
+     can make them really stay. Robert is a born ecclesiastic--I have
+     said so always. His conduct in this present crisis will be a slap
+     in the face to those who insist that religion makes men timorous.
+     Speaking for myself, I never entertained a moment's doubt of his
+     acting in precisely the manner in which he has done; his worst
+     time, however, is, alas! to come; he may have to wait till eternity
+     for his recompense. That trial often embitters the most constant.
+     The devil is never embarrassed, and where virtue is found
+     superhuman, he takes every care to keep it on a sour--if
+     ethereal--diet. You will beg for less comment and more facts. Let
+     me give them. Orange himself, pale, restrained, haggard but superb,
+     met us at the station on our arrival. He had been waiting for us at
+     the hotel; Mrs. Parflete was at the Villa Miraflores. The two had
+     discussed the situation and parted on the mere reading of my
+     telegram. I cannot say that they might have acted otherwise, but
+     only that they acted as they did. There must have been,
+     nevertheless, a considerable scene. The idealist driven into
+     squalid actualities deserves a martyr's crown. In one single
+     misfortune he suffers all the calamities of the human race, and in
+     one personal horror he sees the death, emptiness, and corruption of
+     all human endeavours. In this exaggeration, these mystics show
+     their genius; they suffer too much in order that ordinary people
+     may suffer a little less. Poor Orange! He is certainly fine, for,
+     even if I discard the _mannerisms_, the eccentricity, the possibly
+     _natural_ self-sufficiency, all that is essential in his character
+     remains and must remain undeniably chivalrous. It was an immense
+     relief to find that he had decided, without suggestions on my part,
+     on his course of conduct. I hate a fellow who tries to be more than
+     friendly, and I dreaded making the experiment. I did venture to
+     point out to him that there might be some way of annulling the
+     Parflete marriage. But idealists abhor law-suits. Parflete, _not_
+     being an idealist, may take some steps on his own account. I
+     refrained from touching on that possibility, although I see much
+     hope that way for our unhappy lovers. The world might cry out a
+     little at first, but success justifies everything. Meanwhile,
+     Robert and Mrs. Parflete have formed a resolution not to meet again
+     for a year or more. After that, they hope to be on the unearthly
+     terms of Laura and her Petrarch. It is magnificent, but is it love?
+     I long to hear your views on the subject. I have no influence over
+     you; I wish I had. I am the most sincere of all your friends. The
+     others either care too little for you, or too much for themselves,
+     to run the risk of giving you offence. But I would risk all, to
+     gain even a little--where you are concerned. May I call on my
+     return? Orange comes back with me. His own instinct tells him that
+     there is a suggestion of the ridiculous--to the mere
+     on-looker--about this interrupted honeymoon. He has determined to
+     face it out in London, and resume his life on the old lines. He
+     will finish his volume of French History, resume his post with Lord
+     Wight, and take his seat in Parliament. If he can succeed in living
+     down this absurdly tragic catastrophe, he will achieve a notable
+     triumph. It gives me a cold feeling at the heart when I think of
+     the dreary heroism he must display. Nothing picturesque, nothing
+     striking. He must simply baffle the scoffers by an inscrutable
+     endurance. Mrs. Parflete is a beautiful creature, but quite a
+     child, and therefore weedy as to figure. I consider her far too
+     young for marriage in any case. She is only seventeen--tall,
+     slight, with a transparent skin, and something actually _babyish_
+     about the eyes. Her dignity, in the circumstances, was wholly
+     admirable. Perfectly self-possessed. Pensee will describe the
+     interviews far better than I could, so I will refer you to her for
+     the details of our mission. Women, I have decided, in every
+     disappointment always look for some future change of circumstances
+     favourable to their wishes. No matter how nominal, shallow, and
+     delusive this faith may be, it sustains them through the worst
+     trials. Thus it is that when a woman sacrifices either her repose
+     or the legitimate compensations of life to a great idea, she
+     suffers far less than a man in similar conditions. The devout
+     female sex drive a good bargain always: they manage somehow to
+     obtain all the sentiment they require from both worlds. Men cannot
+     be happy on sentiment alone; hence, therefore, the dreadful
+     hesitations, self-doubts, and terror which assail so frequently the
+     interior peace of all men drawn, like Orange, by certain qualities
+     of temperament, toward the mortification of their humanity. Laying
+     aside the proud idea of the independence, vigour, and
+     spiritual-mindedness which this practice is held to secure, there
+     is one drawback which, with a view to that class who are really
+     willing to endure many afflictions for the sake of any one definite
+     advantage, ought not to be overlooked. The weak, under such
+     discipline, become sugary: the strong grow hard. Robert has
+     backbone; he is a man of ability, perhaps even genius, but there is
+     always a danger that, either from the accumulation of scruples or
+     the want of romantic incentive, he may throw up the political game
+     and bury himself in a monastery where his dreams may find their
+     sole expression in prayer. Another point occurs to me. Will the
+     rank and file ever trust a person so far above their comprehension?
+     The very word "mystical" is a word of reproach in the mouth of the
+     world. People continually ask questions about Robert. No questions,
+     on the other hand, are asked about Aumerle. Aumerle lives like the
+     rest of us: he does everything he ought not to do--he surprises
+     nobody: he delivers his neighbours over to the absolute power of
+     accomplished facts. (A way of saying that he doesn't care a rap
+     about the fellow who falls among thieves.) Dear Valerie! What a
+     pleasure it is to write to you! I can utter my inmost thoughts. I
+     am often suspected of callousness. This letter will show you how
+     truly I feel the sorrows of my few real friends. I cannot bear to
+     think that Orange should be beaten, as it were, by Parflete. A more
+     fawning, wretched creature than Parflete one never saw. I shall
+     not be set right in my own idea of the Divine Justice unless this
+     battle, at any rate, is to the strong. Write to me. I don't want to
+     whine, but I may tell you that I am not happy.
+
+                        Your affectionate friend,
+
+                                BEAUCLERK R.
+
+Sara sat on a low, embroidered stool by the fender, and, as she studied
+each line of his lordship's despatch (for so he regarded it), she would
+dip her fingers from time to time into a blue satin sweet-box, select,
+after due consideration, a chocolate or a sugared-almond, and nibble it
+somewhat fastidiously, with an air of making concessions to her human
+side. The exercise of divining the many hidden meanings in Reckage's
+epistle was certainly purely intellectual. Nevertheless, as she read the
+last sentences, she smiled with malicious triumph, for did they not
+convey a declaration of strong friendship in a letter designed, beyond
+doubt, as an argument in disfavour of all merely sentimental ties
+between men and women, and as a frank confession of his own inability to
+sustain any relation of the kind? How often had he maintained an
+opposite opinion--seeming contemptuous, indolent, invulnerable,
+unconscious of her beauty, amused rather than attracted by her brilliant
+spirit. Every instinct of the coquette, jealous of her own power and
+wretched from the sterile suffering of wounded pride, resented bitterly
+the unpardonable ease which he had appeared to enjoy in her society.
+Now, however, that he appealed to her womanliness by a humble
+surrender, her better, more generous nature asserted itself. Some of the
+old affection she had long felt for him revived. Where there had once
+been love, a kind of desperate fidelity still lingered, and, although
+Robert Orange was the ideal passion of her heart, Reckage possessed a
+certain influence over her which was not the less powerful because it
+had its root and constant nourishment in their common memory of a
+childhood and first youth spent together in the same county, with the
+same friends and the same bores. She slipped his letter, with a sigh,
+into her belt, and turned her attention for the third time to Pensee's
+tear-stained pages.
+
+     MY DARLING SARA,--I can scarcely write. Although I know the mercy
+     and wisdom hidden in these sad events, my heart is heavy. The best
+     thing is to preach resignation _till_ you have it; and then,
+     _because_ you have it, you _will_ preach it. Robert's love of
+     Brigit makes little outward show, but I know that it is terribly
+     real. We are never so near to our loved ones as when we have left
+     them for God, but _nearness_ of that intangible, invisible kind
+     amounts to agony. At least, I think so. Robert's self-restraint is
+     killing me. When we first met, he shook from head to foot, his very
+     face quivered, but he said nothing. I felt that he would never
+     allow any one to speak of this trouble or offer him the least
+     sympathy. In the necessary discussion of the legal aspects of the
+     case, he was very calm, and seemed rather an adviser himself than
+     the person chiefly concerned. It is not easy to understand him; yet
+     I appreciate reserve. If everybody could understand us, what joy
+     would there be in discovering our souls to those whom we love!
+     Brigit has shut herself up in a room. She cries incessantly (she is
+     so young) and is dreadfully changed. She wishes to go to Paris--for
+     she has some idea of resuming her musical studies. Her voice is one
+     of her great gifts, yet I can't imagine any one singing in such a
+     tortured state of mind. I don't like to say that actually I fear
+     for her reason, but she has, I see, far more heart, poor child,
+     than I ever supposed. How wrong it is to attempt any judgment or
+     estimate of another person's capacity for suffering! She is in a
+     pitiable condition, unnaturally patient in a sense--for it is
+     patience on the rack. Our Lord dreaded suffering and even feared
+     it. Of course, one might easily say that an unhappy love affair is
+     very common, that it is almost profane to compare such an ordinary
+     trouble with the serious, exceptional trials of life. But although
+     Lord Byron declared that "man's love was of man's life a thing
+     apart," his own poems and his own career gave the lie absolutely to
+     the statement (indeed, I am often tempted to believe that women
+     exhibit, on the whole, greater strength of will in their affections
+     than men). I must say, therefore, that the spectacle of a bride and
+     bridegroom, devoted to each other, yet separated on their very
+     wedding day, is quite as serious and sorrowful as (say) the death
+     of a parent, or the loss of a child, or any other melancholy
+     occurrence of everyday life. And what is worse, an atmosphere of
+     _scandal_ penetrates this story--making it most shocking to all
+     refined minds, and peculiarly so to temperaments of extraordinary
+     delicacy. It will take every atom of _my_ courage and constant
+     prayers to bear it _for_ them. What must it be, therefore, to
+     themselves? I tremble at the appalling things in future for us. As
+     for my uncle, I dare not read his letter yet. He must be so upset,
+     so _horrified_. I have never before been called on for such a proof
+     of friendship. It is quite dreadful to be mixed up in a kind of
+     _cause celebre_. The great justice of God is always mixed with
+     great hardships, and is often executed by those worthy neither of
+     confidence nor respect. I am sure that we shall all have to go
+     through many humiliations before this matter is settled. I know,
+     darling, that _you_ will say I am making a rather narrow-minded
+     fuss. But I do hate publicity, and if it doesn't kill Robert
+     outright, it will have some shattering effect upon his character
+     and his health. Really, I am not thinking so much of myself. Your
+     own _reckless_ bravery, however, would quail a little, I fancy, at
+     the idea of having your most intimate feelings called out from the
+     housetops and discussed in the streets. And remember, please, that
+     Robert is a dreamer--a poet. Of course, in every _active_
+     expedition there must be some few idealistic, Quixotic souls who
+     have to suffer vicariously for the rest. He is such an one. But
+     that sort of feeling of soreness which comes from the sense of
+     martyrdom is not quite the same as a raw wound on one's own
+     _personal_ score. I do hope I am clear. I try to look on the bright
+     side, but there are days when the unseen world and its glorious
+     realities become dubious. These are trials of faith, I know. If one
+     could be wise, one would keep silent at such times. Now, dearest
+     Sara, good-night.
+
+                        Yours ever lovingly,
+
+                                PENSEE.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+Lord Garrow and Lady Sara left town the next day for a short visit at
+Kemmerstone Park, the seat of Arabella, Marchioness of Churleigh. Lady
+Churleigh had a favourite nephew for whom she was extremely anxious "to
+do something." Vague by nature, she had never been able to define her
+ambition in more precise terms, but, as she entertained influential
+people only, it was considered, in many circles, that she over-did her
+civilities toward the mammon of unrighteousness. Those who were not
+invited called her heartless; those who accepted her hospitality found
+fault with her brains. All praised her cook, and no one ever thought of
+her nephew. It was known that she could not leave him her money. Every
+pair of eyes read his name--Lord Douglas Hendlesham--on his bedroom door
+at the top of the grand staircase, and visitors soon learnt to associate
+this advertisement with a pale, haughty young man who appeared
+occasionally at meals, or sometimes listened disdainfully to the music
+after dinner in the saloon. Distinguished persons, staying at
+Kemmerstone for the first time, would ask a fellow-guest, "Who is the
+melancholy youth who looks so ill?" "That," they would be told, "is
+Douglas Hendlesham, I _think_."
+
+Disraeli called him "a personified hallucination."
+
+The party, on this particular occasion, consisted of Agnes Carillon (who
+attracted unusual attention as the _fiancee_ of Lord Reckage), the
+Bishop of Hadley (her father), the Duke and Duchess of Bevensey, Charles
+Aumerle, and Mr. Disraeli. Lord Garrow lost no time in conveying his
+version of the Orange scandal to the ex-Minister's ears. It was a damp
+afternoon, and the two gentlemen marched up and down the smoking-room
+together, talking so earnestly that the Duke (to his rage) dared not
+interrupt them, and drove out instead with his Duchess and Lady
+Churleigh--who bored him beyond sleep. Disraeli had been opposed, from
+the first, to Robert's marriage with Mrs. Parflete, for, as other
+diplomatists, he preferred his own plans before those of Providence, and
+he had wished to see his young friend wisely united to the
+unexceptionable Viscountess Fitz Rewes.
+
+"But," he observed, shrugging his shoulders, "to talk expediency is not
+a safe way of opening the game with Orange. Many men have ability, few
+have genius, but fewer still have character. Orange has a rectangular
+will and an indomitable character. _Character_ is the rarest thing in
+England."
+
+Lord Garrow stiffened his back.
+
+"I have been educated in a contrary belief," said he. "Our national
+character is our dearest possession."
+
+"That is because it is so rare. You mistake your education for your
+experience--a common error. By character I mean that remnant of a man's
+life which is probably stronger than death, and ought to be stronger
+than worldly considerations."
+
+"Far be it from me to go into such subtleties," returned his lordship,
+stealing a glance at Disraeli's powerful face. "Your friend, at all
+events, has done for himself now. His merits seem to be more interesting
+than respectable, and this marriage has furnished conversation for the
+whole town--chiefly because Beauclerk Reckage was his best man. One
+cannot help feeling sorry for him, but it is certainly a very bad thing.
+How will he justify his rash conduct?"
+
+"He may think it unwise to be detailed in self-justification."
+
+"That is all well enough, and so far I am with you. In such
+circumstances, one doesn't want to tell a lie, and yet one doesn't want
+to tell the truth."
+
+"Well, there are many duties and difficulties in life: there is but one
+obligation--courage."
+
+He fixed his eyes on the fire blazing in the grate, and repeated the
+word with great emphasis--"Courage!"
+
+"He will need it. An unpleasant suggestion has been put forward by the
+lawyers."
+
+"Divorce?" said Disraeli.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"A Bishop was telling me the other day that when one attacks the
+principle of divorce one forgets that it was originally a Divine
+institution! But I agree with you--it is unpleasant. You will find that
+Orange won't hear of such a course. I see great dangers ahead for him,
+but I see no honourable way of avoiding them. When a man, careless of
+danger, unconcerned with profit, takes up the cause of God against the
+world, others may not follow, but they must admire him. Abstract
+sentiments of virtue do not charm me. Orange is a Roman Catholic,
+however, and therefore a practical idealist. The practical idealists of
+England are the Dissenters--mostly the Methodists. John Wesley was
+considered crack-brained by his contemporaries at Oxford; he was a
+greater mystic, in several ways, than Newman, but he was not such a
+poet."
+
+"I know nothing about Dissenters and that class. As for the
+Catholics--the few I am acquainted with are civil and sensible."
+
+"That is true. Most of the English Catholics imagine that St. Peter's
+and the Vatican can be maintained on the policy of a parish church in
+Mayfair! But one moment. There is Aumerle in the hall with a telegram. I
+wonder if he has any fresh news about poor Derby." [Footnote: Lord Derby
+was then lying at the point of death.]
+
+With this unimpeachable excuse he left his noble companion, who, more
+certain than ever that Disraeli could never be in touch with the upper
+classes of England, retired to his own room and wrote down in a journal
+all he could remember of their conversation.
+
+Lady Sara, meanwhile, had invited Agnes Carillon to walk through the
+famous gardens of Kemmerstone, and, as each girl was anxious to study
+the other, they started on the expedition in that high pitch of nervous
+excitement and generous animosity which one may detect in splendid
+rivals, or even in formal allies. Sara dressed more richly than was the
+fashion at that time among English unmarried ladies. Her furs, velvets,
+laces and jewels were referred to an Asiatic, barbaric love of display.
+Agnes, therefore, who had attired herself, in protest, even more plainly
+than usual, was a little taken aback to find her remarkable acquaintance
+in brown cashmere, a cloth jacket, and a severe felt hat of the Tyrolean
+shape, which, poised upon her chignon, tilted far over her fine blue
+eyes. Both women, however, were so young and handsome that even the
+trying fashions of the period could not destroy their brilliant
+appearance. The chagrin of the one and the ironical triumph of the other
+soon gave way to more generous feelings. Each took her companion's
+measure with a swift, intelligent, respectful glance.
+
+"Shall we need umbrellas?" said Agnes.
+
+"I have nothing on that will spoil," replied Sara, "but I am a little
+anxious about your shoes. Are they thick enough?"
+
+Miss Carillon was above many vanities; she left her facial beauty to
+take care of itself. But her feet were uncommonly well moulded, and she
+was careful not to disguise them in the hideous porpoise-hide boots with
+flat soles and no instep which found favour with her generation.
+
+"They look very nice," continued Sara, "and I really think they are
+worth a slight cold. Take my arm, for then we can walk better. How nobly
+Lord Reckage has behaved in this dreadful affair of Robert Orange! You
+won't think me strange for introducing the subject at once? It must be
+on both our minds, for you are naturally thinking of Reckage, and I am
+thinking of dear Pensee."
+
+"Beauclerk is very fond of Mr. Orange."
+
+"He must be. Do notice the autumn tint on those beech-trees. How I envy
+artists--although it is not their business to contend with Nature. The
+great vice of the present day is _bravura_--an attempt to do something
+beyond the truth. That reminds me--how does the portrait grow? David
+Rennes is extremely clever."
+
+"Beauclerk admires his work. He considers him finer than Millais."
+
+"What does he think of the portrait?"
+
+"He hasn't seen it yet. My people are much pleased with the likeness. I
+find it flattering."
+
+"Indeed!" said Sara thoughtfully. "Did you give him many sittings?"
+
+"He knows my face pretty well. We are acquaintances of some years'
+standing. Papa has a high opinion of him."
+
+"And you?"
+
+"I am no judge. Women can know so little about men."
+
+"I don't agree with you there. They are far more conventional
+than we are. They are trained in batches, thousands are of one
+pattern--especially in society. But each woman has an individual
+bringing-up. She is influenced by a foreign governess, or her mother, or
+her nurse. This must give every girl peculiar personal views of
+everything. That is why men find us hard to understand. We don't
+understand each other; we suspect each other: we have no sense of
+comradeship."
+
+"Perhaps you are right," said Agnes, rather sadly. "Yet our troubles all
+seem to arise from the fact that we cannot manage men. It matters very
+little really whether we can manage women. With women, one need only be
+natural, straightforward, and unselfish. You can't come to grief that
+way. But with men, it is almost impossible to be quite natural. As for
+being straightforward, don't they misconstrue our words continually? And
+when one tries to be unselfish, they accuse one of hardness, coldness,
+and everything most contrary to one's feelings. Of course," she added
+quickly, "I speak from observation. I have nothing to complain of
+myself."
+
+"Of course not. Neither have I. I have grown up with most of my men
+friends. I had no mother, and I exhausted dozens of governesses and
+masters, I am sure I was troublesome, but I had an instinctive horror of
+becoming narrow-minded and getting into a groove. My English relations
+bored me. My foreign ones made my dear papa jealous and uncomfortable."
+
+"Then you liked them?" said Agnes at once.
+
+"Enormously. You see, I am always an alien among English people."
+
+Agnes, following an instinct of kindness, pressed her arm and murmured,
+"No, no."
+
+"Yes, my dear, yes. And this is why I am devoted to Mr. Disraeli, and so
+much interested in Robert Orange. We three are citizens of the world."
+
+"But English people who have lived, for any length of time, abroad are
+quite as sensible and tolerant as you are. Take Mr. Rennes, of whom we
+are just speaking."
+
+"To be sure. But artists and poets are like stars--they belong to no
+land. A strictly national painter or a strictly national poet is bound
+to be parochial--a kind of village pump. And you may write inscriptions
+all over him, and build monuments above him, but he remains a pump by a
+local spring. David Rennes is a genius."
+
+"I am glad you think so," said Agnes, with flushing cheeks. "I wonder
+whether he will ever be an Academician?"
+
+"Would you feel more sure of his gifts--in that case?"
+
+There was a slight note of sarcasm in the question.
+
+"It is stupid of me, I know," said Agnes frankly, "but one can't help
+feeling rather shy until one's opinions are officially endorsed."
+
+"How British!"
+
+"I suppose it is my bringing-up. It sounds very feeble. I often feel
+that if I once began--really began--to think for myself I wouldn't stick
+at anything."
+
+"That is British, too," said Sara, laughing. "You are a true _Jane_
+Bull! But as you are going to marry a public man, that is as well. Your
+life will have many absorbing interests."
+
+"Oh yes," returned Agnes; "I hope to help Beauclerk in his constituency,
+and with the members of his Association."
+
+"So far as I can make out they are a weak, selfish lot, but these
+qualities do not affect the question of his duties toward them."
+
+"You express, better than I could, my own feeling. I fear they don't
+always appreciate his motives."
+
+"Beauclerk," said Sara slowly, "is impulsive. He is never afraid of
+changing his mind. Many people are called firm merely because they
+haven't the moral courage to own their second thoughts."
+
+Agnes drew a long sigh, slackened her pace, and stood looking at the
+strange, autumnal lights in the sky, the martins flying over the
+paddocks toward the wood, and the crescent moon which already shone out
+above them.
+
+"I suppose it does mean lack of courage, half the time," she said at
+last; "and yet how disastrous it is to wonder about the wisdom of any
+decision once arrived at, of any step once taken! I daresay every one
+shrinks a little at first from the responsibility of undertaking another
+person's happiness."
+
+"Not every one," replied Sara; "the generous ones only."
+
+"You have known Beauclerk ever since he was a boy, haven't you?" asked
+Agnes.
+
+"Yes. He was such a handsome lad, and he has always been the same."
+
+"I am devoted to him," said Agnes. "I am proud to think that he has
+chosen me for his wife. But one thought is perpetually coming up in my
+mind: Shall I be able to make him happy? A girl, as a rule, seems to
+believe that she can make a man happy merely by loving him. Again and
+again friends of mine have married in this idea. And the hope seldom
+answers."
+
+She spoke very quietly, yet there was great feeling, even great
+bitterness in her tone. She was thinking of David Rennes. Sara had a
+curious magnetism which attracted all those with whom she came into
+friendly relations. Being imaginative, though never inquisitive, her
+quick sympathies rendered the most trivial interchange of ideas an
+emotional exercise. This power, which would have made her a successful
+actress, found its usual outlet in her pianoforte playing, which
+affected her hearers as only extraordinary nervous and passionate force
+can affect people. She had neither the patience nor the sternness of
+mental quality which is required in a creative genius: the little songs
+and poems which she sometimes composed were insipid to an astonishing
+degree. Hers were the executant's gifts, and the fascination which she
+exerted over men and women depended wholly on the natural charm of a
+temperament made up of fire and honey. Agnes had always regarded Lady
+Sara as an odd but chivalrous girl. The stories told in society about
+her eccentric tastes, sayings, and doings were never to her heart's
+discredit, no matter how much they puzzled, or dismayed, the
+conventional set into which she had been born. It was felt that she
+could be trusted, and, although many were afraid of her brains, no one
+had ever known her to betray a confidence, to injure another woman's
+reputation, to show the least spite, or to insist upon an undue share of
+men's attention. The sex may, and do, pardon the first three sins, but
+the last has yet to find its atoning virtue. All declared that Sara,
+with many shortcomings, was neither a poacher nor a grabber. Girls
+consulted her in their love troubles, and not a few owed their marriages
+to her wise arbitration. She had the gypsy's spell. Thus it happened,
+therefore, that Agnes, who was habitually reserved, found herself
+thinking aloud in the presence of this mysterious but not hostile
+personality.
+
+"When does Beauclerk return from the North of France?" asked Sara.
+
+"He is coming back with Mr. Orange next Wednesday. I had a letter this
+morning." Her voice grew husky, and with evident agitation she halted
+once more.
+
+"You know Beauclerk so well," she said at last, "that I want to ask you
+something, and you must answer me truly--without the least dread of
+giving offence--because a great deal may depend on what you tell me. Do
+you think he seems altogether settled in his mind?"
+
+Sara guessed, from the nature of the question, that the truth in this
+case would be a relief--not a blow.
+
+"He doesn't seem quite himself--if you understand me," she said, without
+hesitation.
+
+Agnes caught her arm a little more closely and walked with a lighter
+step.
+
+"I don't think we love each other sufficiently for marriage," she
+exclaimed; "his last letter was so affectionate and so full of kindness
+that it brought tears to my eyes. I saw the effort under it all. We are
+making a tragic mistake. We drifted into it. We were such good friends,
+and we felt, I daresay, that it was our duty to love each other. His
+family were pleased and so were mine. We seem to have pleased everybody
+except ourselves. Not that I ever expected the joy and stuff, and inward
+feelings which one reads of. I am too sensible for that. But I wanted to
+feel _established_--whereas we are both, in reality, rather upset. I am
+sure of this."
+
+"Perhaps when you see each other----"
+
+"Our letters are far more satisfactory than our meetings. I know he is
+fond of me."
+
+"You couldn't doubt that. It is worship."
+
+"I can say, at any rate, that I am so sure of his affection that it
+gives me no pain--not the least--to miss the--the other quality."
+
+"My dear, you are not in love with him, or you couldn't be so resigned."
+
+"I suppose you are right. I have never told him that I loved him. He has
+never asked me. Perhaps he took it for granted. As for me, I thought
+that the respect and esteem I felt would do."
+
+Sara shook her head.
+
+"Not for us. We are different, I know, but we have hearts. We can
+suffer, we can endure, we can be resigned, we can be everything except
+uncertain, or luke-warm. Isn't that true?"
+
+"Yes," said Agnes, and she laughed a little. "It isn't my way," she went
+on, "to talk like this about myself. Yet I can't help seeing that all
+this keeping silence, and disguising facts from one's own reason, is
+actually weak. I don't want to be weak. It isn't English. I don't want
+to be supine. That isn't English either. I want to be just and square
+all round--in my dealings with others and in my dealings with my own
+conscience. Papa has always taught us a great deal about individual
+liberty, and freedom of will. I am beginning to wonder what liberty
+means."
+
+"That's the first step toward a great change."
+
+The young girl set her lips, and looked steadfastly before her, as
+though she would pierce the gathering twilight with her bright and
+candid eyes.
+
+"I daresay you are right. Anyhow, our talk has been a help. When I may
+seem to lack courage, it is because I lack conviction. Once convinced, I
+can depend upon myself."
+
+"When did these ideas come to you?" asked Sara.
+
+"They have been coming for some time. I have been abroad a good deal,
+and I have been meeting people who make opinions. I never gave in when I
+was with them, but I must have been influenced."
+
+The slight emphasis on the words _people_ and _them_ was too studied to
+escape Sara's trained hearing. She knew the force of a woman's
+rhetorical plural.
+
+"I believe you have your convictions now, at this moment," she said
+quietly.
+
+"No--not in the final shape."
+
+"But you can predict the final shape?"
+
+"One more day and then I will decide irrevocably."
+
+"Why do you hesitate?"
+
+"For this reason--I must grieve papa and disappoint my mother."
+
+"Still, both these things have to be done. Some of the best men have
+been obliged to displease their parents in choosing a vocation. Women,
+in their marriages, are often driven to the same sad straits."
+
+"I know, but the prospect is most painful. I feel I could bear my own
+disappointment far better than I could bear theirs. Surely you
+understand?"
+
+"Too well."
+
+They had now reached the house, and Agnes's habitual manner at once
+re-asserted itself. Her voice, which had many rich notes, fell into the
+one unchanging tone she used in ordinary conversation. Her countenance
+seemed as placid as a pink geranium under glass.
+
+"Thank you for a very pleasant walk," she said to Sara. "I sha'n't
+forget it."
+
+"Nor I. And, please, after this, always call me Sara. And may I call you
+Agnes? We have just time now to write a few letters before dinner."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+Robert, accompanied by Lord Reckage, arrived in London the following
+Wednesday. Pensee and Brigit went from St. Malo to Paris, where the
+unhappy girl hoped to enter the Conservatoire. All had been arranged by
+Robert himself, and he had shown a calmness during the ordeal which
+might have deceived his two friends had they been even a little
+insincere themselves or a shade less fond. His Journal at that period
+contains two entries, however, which show that neither Lady Fitz Rewes
+nor Reckage were wrong in fearing he had received a mortal blow which no
+earthly influence could make endurable.
+
+     _Oct., 1869._--I am once more at Almouth House. Beauclerk's
+     consideration for me is almost more than I can bear. The rest is
+     not borne. If it were not cowardly, I would go away alone, and
+     brood at my leisure and yield to the appalling yet all but
+     irresistible wretchedness which calls me, which I actually crave.
+     An effort not to depress or discourage others may be right and my
+     duty. I cannot be sure of this. Sometimes I feel as though it would
+     be wiser to meet the dark hours and make acquaintance with them....
+     And what is to become of her? The longing to see her--even in the
+     distance....
+
+     To-night I talked with Reckage about his Bond of Association. Most
+     of the members feel toward him that insipid kind of hatred which
+     passes for friendship in public life. If he were naturally
+     observant, he would see this; if he were given at all to
+     self-doubt, he would feel it. But his way is to regard most men as
+     ill-mannered and well-meaning.
+
+     _Tuesday._--Another day. I begin to see that I have been called to
+     make every sacrifice--marriage, ambition, happiness, all must be
+     abandoned: abandoned while I live, not after I have made myself, by
+     years of self-discipline, indifferent to such considerations....
+     But for its piety, the _Imitation_ is, I think, the most
+     pessimistic book in the world. The _Exercises_ of St. Ignatius
+     (perhaps because he was a saint) produce quite an opposite effect
+     upon me; they exhort us to hope, action, courage. They make one a
+     citizen of both worlds. Merely to read him is a campaign in the
+     open air against a worthy foe. I defy any man to go through the
+     _Exercises_ with his whole heart, and even whine again. I have
+     resolved to write willingly no more, to speak willingly no more, on
+     the subject of my marriage. That page is turned for ever: there
+     shall be no glancing back. Moods inevitably must come; spasms of
+     despair are as little tractable as spasms of physical pain. But I
+     can at least keep silent about their true cause. The first step
+     toward the cure of egoism is to lock away one's Journal. I shall
+     add no more to this till I have mastered my present state. And I
+     wonder what that mastery will mean? Are some victories better lost?
+
+The Journal ends abruptly at this point, and no more was added that
+year. His letter to Lord Wight has been preserved because his lordship
+sent it to Pensee in some anger, begging her to explain such
+callousness. Pensee, being a woman, brought a gentler understanding to
+the inquiry.
+
+"Don't you see," she said, "that his heart is broken?"
+
+"I see," returned his lordship drily, "he is a born R. C. ecclesiastic.
+Religious instinct is the ruling passion of Orange. That poor young
+woman--with whom he is madly in love--was merely an accident of his
+career. She has affected his character--yes. I suppose Cardinal
+Manning's wife had her influence in her day. But Robert will work better
+than ever after this. Whereas look at me, my dear. When I lost Sybil, I
+was completely done for. I tried to set up for myself, but I couldn't. I
+hope I am a Christian; God forbid that I should quarrel with His will.
+Yet I cannot think I am a better man for my poor darling's death. Don't
+talk to me. Don't say anything."
+
+The letter in question ran as follows:--
+
+                                ALMOUTH HOUSE.
+
+     MY DEAR LORD WIGHT,--
+
+     The messages which you have sent by Lady Fitz Rewes have helped me
+     where I most needed assistance. When I tell you this, it would be
+     more possible for you to imagine my gratitude than for me to
+     express it--at least, in words, and for that matter I can't see how
+     any act of mine could prove even a fraction of it. Shall I resume
+     my work on the 28th? I have had to learn that one does not always
+     choose one's vocation. It is sometimes chosen for us. May I beg
+     you, as one more favour, never to talk to me about the events of
+     the last fortnight? In one sense I am able--too able--to discuss
+     them. This is why I must not indulge myself. In times to come I may
+     find it, perhaps, a certain effort to speak of it all. Then I will
+     tell you gladly anything your kindness may seek to know. But just
+     now it is my duty to keep silent. One cannot fight the wild beasts,
+     and describe them fairly, at the same hour. Either they seem more
+     formidable than they are, or they are even more terrible than they
+     seem. But the order has gone forth--"Face them."
+
+                        Your affectionate and grateful,
+
+                                ROBERT de H. ORANGE.
+
+Robert himself, after he had written this final letter, decided to reply
+in person to a note which he had received that morning from Lady Sara.
+He walked to St. James's Square wondering, without much interest,
+whether Fate would have her absent or at home. As a matter of fact, she
+had felt a presentiment of his call, and he found her, beautifully
+dressed in violet tints, copying some Mass music in the drawing-room.
+
+"I hoped you would come," she said, when the servant had closed the
+door. "Nothing else could have shown me that you didn't mind my writing.
+I had to write. I wrote badly, but indeed I understood. It takes an
+eternity to sound the infinite. We won't talk of you: we can talk about
+other people. Ask me what I have been doing."
+
+All this time she held his hand, but in such sisterly, kind fashion,
+that he felt more at ease with her than it was ever possible to be with
+Pensee, who was timid, and therefore disturbing.
+
+"Have you accepted Marshire?" he asked at once.
+
+"No," she said, blushing; "I do not love him sufficiently to marry him."
+
+"How is this?"
+
+"You know that I always fly from important mediocrities. You think that
+sounds heartless. He has been so kind to me. But I love as I must--not
+as I ought. My dear friend, all the trouble in life is due to forced
+affection. Look at Beauclerk! Think of Agnes Carillon! What fiery
+fierceness of sorrow in both their hearts! Papa and I were at Lady
+Churleigh's last Sunday. Agnes was there, looking, believe me, lovely.
+No portrait does her justice. One finds marvellous beauty, now and
+again, in the middle classes. She is an exquisite _bourgeoise_. She is
+not clever enough to feel bored; she is too well brought up to be
+fascinating; too handsome to insist on homage. Plain women are exacting
+and capricious--they make themselves _worth while_. _Il faut se faire
+valoir!_ That is why a man will often adore an ugly woman for ever,
+whereas an Agnes--an Agnes----"
+
+She paused, gave him a glance, and laughed.
+
+"Does Beauclerk adore Agnes?" said she.
+
+"Can one man judge another in these questions?"
+
+"If neither are hypocrites--yes."
+
+"As for conscious hypocrisy, a priest of great experience once told me
+that in twenty years he had met but one deliberate hypocrite. You must
+be less cynical. Men, however, don't watch each other closely as a rule
+in sentimental matters."
+
+"If that is a reproof, I thank you for it," she answered. "It may do me
+good. This wayward soul of mine is all wrong. Be patient with me. I
+can't help thinking that most men living are, at the bottom, wholly
+selfish and truly miserable."
+
+"Very few people are truly miserable. If this were not the case, the
+world and all creatures must have perished long ago."
+
+"Well, I can tell you of three wretches at any rate."
+
+"Three--against the world and all the planets and heaven?" said he.
+
+"Yes. They are Beauclerk, and Agnes and I. We want time and space
+annihilated in order that we may be happy. We must be humorous studies
+to those looking on, but we are, nevertheless, utterly desperate. This
+is true. Scold me now--if you can. Tell me what is to become of us--if
+you dare."
+
+She stood up. She clenched her small hands, set her lips, and grew so
+pale that the pearls around her neck seemed dark.
+
+"Tell me what is to become of us--if you dare," she repeated, "because
+mischief is certain. You belong to those who endure and fight good
+fights, and keep the faith. Beauclerk and I are of another order
+altogether. We suffer without endurance, we fight without winning, and
+the little faith we have is so little that it is taken away from us. As
+for Agnes--wait! She is encased, at present, in conventionalities. But
+she is gradually getting rid of these wrappings and trappings. She will
+surprise you all yet."
+
+"I can believe that. She is a woman, and a good one. All the surprising,
+inconceivable things are done by good women."
+
+"And most of the wicked things, too."
+
+"Possibly."
+
+"Let me tell you then that, if it is possible in the circumstances,
+Agnes ought to give Beauclerk his release. It would be no more than his
+right to demand this."
+
+"A right is something independent of circumstances, and paramount to
+them. But when you once talk of your rights and your wrongs in love, all
+love is gone, or going. I hope it hasn't come to that--with Reckage!"
+
+"You have great knowledge of him and know how to press it home when you
+choose. Can't you see, plainly enough, that he is on the road to
+disaster?"
+
+"No. One may easily be a long way from happiness and still be nowhere
+near disaster," he said, checking a deep sigh. "Of course, if he feels
+that he cannot in honour remain in his present situation, he must act at
+once. Men who are desirous to satisfy all their friends soon become
+irresolute on every occasion. That is all I shall say upon the subject,
+and this, perhaps, may be saying more than I ought."
+
+"Another reproof! So be it. But I am thinking of his contentment, and
+you are thinking of his duty. What is duty? It generally means that
+which your acquaintances--for no reason and without warrant--expect of
+you. I take a larger view."
+
+"People of Beauclerk's stamp are so constituted that they can rarely
+find contentment by defying a general opinion."
+
+"But Agnes is not a pretty, crying, fluttering creature who would excite
+compassion. Who, for instance, could jilt Pensee? I don't wish Beauclerk
+to jilt anybody, however. I want Agnes to take the step."
+
+"Why?" he asked.
+
+"Because he will break his heart and die--if she doesn't. There!"
+
+"Then it will be your fault."
+
+"Mr. Orange!"
+
+"You know it, and I mean it."
+
+She smiled at him and shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"Do you think I would ever take the commonplace course?" she said
+proudly. "I did hope that you could appreciate motives for which the
+world at large is slow enough to give credit. Beauclerk is weak,
+attractive, and in perplexity; I search my heart again and again, and I
+find nothing but friendship there--for him. I am careful of every word I
+speak, and every look, and every thought. My interest is unselfish.
+But," she added, "what can any of us do, after all, toward raising
+either dead bodies or dead souls?"
+
+"Dead souls?"
+
+"Yes. Beauclerk might have been something once; he is still very clever;
+he will soon be a man for occasional addresses. I believe in him, you
+see."
+
+"I know that."
+
+She was smiling, yet almost in tears, and her voice trembled. He wished
+to speak, if only to break the sudden, oppressive silence which followed
+her last words; but neither of them could find a thought to offer. They
+sat facing each other, lost in following out unutterable conjectures,
+fancies, and doubts, each painfully aware of a certain mystery, each
+filled with a sure premonition of troubles to come.
+
+"I could almost pray," she exclaimed at last, "that you didn't trust
+him. Because--in spite of himself--he must disappoint every one. He is
+not a deliberate traitor--but a born one."
+
+As Sara spoke the double doors were thrown open.
+
+Lord Reckage was announced.
+
+"Beauclerk!" she exclaimed.
+
+His lordship, self-absorbed, did not perceive her confusion--which she
+was too young to dissemble perfectly.
+
+"The man told me that you were here," he said, addressing Orange and
+seating himself by Sara. "I call this luck--finding you both together. I
+have just been with my Committee. They always expect the worst of me
+now, and they are always cheerful in the expectation."
+
+Sara began to disentangle some silk fringe on her skirt; she did not
+look up, and she offered no comment.
+
+"What is the matter now?" asked Robert.
+
+"They want to get rid of me. You see, one might practise very
+considerably on the credulity of the members if one chose, and these
+fellows on the Executive wish me to take a cautious line with regard to
+Dr. Temple's nomination.[Footnote: Mr. Gladstone's nomination of Dr.
+Temple to the See of Exeter.] It is all very well for Pusey to write,
+'Do you prefer your party to Almighty God and to the souls of men?' But,
+as Aumerle says, Pusey is not in the House of Commons. An attack on
+Temple will be highly unpopular. We have sounded opinion in various
+quarters, and we receive the unanimous reply--'Have nothing to do with
+it.' There is a feeling in the clubs, too, that vapid, colourless
+orthodoxy is not wanted in England. Healthy disagreement within limits
+suits us. The question is, then: Ought I to go against this strong tide
+and get myself disliked?"
+
+"Yes," said Sara at once.
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"Beyond a doubt."
+
+"Of course," said his lordship, readily enough, "a combination in
+defence of any article of the faith is a noble thing. My original idea
+was to get up a combination of High and Low and Broad Churchmen, and
+make a stand on purely legal grounds. For instance, how can the bishops,
+_without previous explanation_, consecrate one lying under the censure
+of their House? That is all. There is nothing offensive in that. We
+merely ask for an explanation: we offer no judgment: we state no
+prejudice. If Dr. Temple intends to withdraw his paper from _Essays and
+Reviews_--well and good. Personally, he bears the highest character. He
+would be, in many ways, an acquisition to the Church. But does he
+himself believe in the Church as a Divine institution--mark you, a
+_Divine_ institution? Neither the _Outs_ nor the _Ins_, I should think,
+could object to this question. Aumerle and the Executive, however, are
+dead against any proceedings at all. They think we ought to give our
+Association a more secular character. They say we are hampered by too
+vehement a religious tone. They say that broad Christian principles are
+more workable. Besides, the word Christian always attracts the
+Nonconformists in spite of themselves. They are bound to support you if
+you stick to the line of a believer in Christ--irrespective of
+particular doctrines. And so on and so on. I prefer something more hard
+and fast myself. Yet they may be right. One must go with the times."
+
+He shifted his chair several times during this speech, looking first at
+Orange and then at Sara for encouragement.
+
+"Your Executive are poor creatures," said Sara, with a curling lip;
+"your weak theologians have become flabby politicians--their one rule of
+action is to avoid everything which demands even the possibility of
+self-sacrifice or adverse criticism."
+
+"That is most unfair," said Reckage hotly. "One must see where one is
+going."
+
+"The world," said Sara, "in the long run, despises those who pander to
+it."
+
+"Yes, but it is in the _long_ run, and no mistake! What a fellow you
+are, Robert! Why don't you suggest something? Are you trying to find the
+civilest thing you can say of the performance?"
+
+"It is the system which you must attack in the present difficulty. The
+system is at fault--not Dr. Temple," said Robert.
+
+"No other system can be now looked to as a substitute," answered Reckage
+impatiently. "The thing cannot be done away now, the danger is too
+near."
+
+"Exactly. The English can never deal with systems or ideas. They can
+only attack individuals--you depend in a crisis on the passions of men,
+never on their reason. Whereas if you overhauled their reason, worked
+it, and trained it, the passions, at the critical moment, would be
+roused with better effect, and would be properly organised. Organised
+passions are what you need for a strong public movement. Whirling
+emotions in contrary currents are utterly futile."
+
+"I daresay. I hoped we might make such efforts as to fix a lasting
+impression on both Houses that the State appointment of bishops, coupled
+with the farce of a _conge d'elire_, is rank blasphemy. This outrage on
+good taste ought to occupy the attention of every man. It is quite
+enough to fill the minds of all."
+
+"It won't," said Robert. "You must remember that whatever strikes the
+mind of an average man, as the result of his own observation and
+discovery, makes always the strongest impression upon him. Now the
+average man is not engaged in studying Church government. He will not
+thank you for calling his attention to it."
+
+"Then what do you want Beauclerk to do?" asked Sara.
+
+"He must fight just the same, of course. I merely wish him to see what
+he has to encounter. By dragging the clergy into the movement you make
+it savour--to the popular intelligence--of professional jealousy. By
+making Dr. Temple your example, you render those who respect his
+character powerless to express their opinion. Given the system, he is
+unquestionably the fittest man to profit by it."
+
+Reckage took many turns round the room.
+
+"The personal character of Dean Ethbin," he said, at last, "is not
+exactly square. He acts a trimming part. But now and again he sums up a
+situation. He says that the English people do not choose to keep up an
+Established Church which shall be independent of its Sovereign and
+Legislature. I have seen most of the bishops and archdeacons. They are
+against Temple; they say very little about the system. Even men with
+nothing to gain by it," he added, ingenuously, "don't appear to
+criticise it."
+
+"For all that, the Church must deliver her conscience at whatever risk.
+She ought to assert her will--even against her interest--in order to
+show England that she is her own mistress!"
+
+"You mean that ironically! What does for Rome, however, doesn't do for
+us. The Church of England is It--not She--to most people. As for Rome,
+nothing in her belongs to humanity, except the Vatican discipline--the
+life of which, I confess, is a permanent miracle!"
+
+"My best friends," entreated Sara gaily, "do not--do not fight. Be nice
+to each other and listen to me. The English never read history. Why not
+get up a kind of Historical Commission and examine the validity of the
+Anglican Orders? There you can work at the roots of things. After that,
+introduce a Bill for the admission of clergymen to Parliament. You have
+spiritual peers, why not spiritual Commons?"
+
+"One at a time," said Reckage; "what ideas you have! Say them again. I
+believe they are not half bad. But do go more slowly."
+
+Sara, with a becoming instinct of meekness, took her favourite seat on
+the fender, and at the feet of the two men, looking up humbly, began to
+explain herself with that lightness of phrase only possible to those
+who have a profound knowledge of their subject. Her submissive attitude,
+her soft, musical voice, and her docile expression made both men
+insensible to the actual commands insinuated into the emotional wit and
+acute arguments of her little speech. Reckage was fascinated. He sat
+there drinking in her beauty and wisdom--the one stimulated his senses,
+the other pierced his intelligence, making him feel that, with such a
+companion ever by his side, he might achieve heroism with a good
+conscience. As matters were, he was often dissatisfied, sleepless, and
+oppressed--particularly under praise. He was not often set right, as he
+would have said it, in his own opinion--even when the world and his
+Executive Committee were disposed to cry out--"Well done."
+
+"I didn't run within pounds of my form," was the cry of self-reproach he
+invariably heard above the applause of his colleagues or the
+commendation of the Press. Sara, he believed, would give him the courage
+of his own better nature. These thoughts were passing rosily in his
+heart, when Lord Garrow, accompanied by Agnes Carillon, entered the
+room.
+
+"My love," said Lord Garrow to Sara, "I met Miss Carillon on the steps
+of the London Library, and I have brought her in to tea. But why do you
+sit in the firelight? Why haven't they lit the gas? And who is here?"
+
+A sudden flame from the grate illuminated the faces of Orange and Lord
+Reckage. The two ladies greeted each other. All spoke, and then all were
+silent. It was an awkward meeting for every one present. Lord Garrow
+rang the bell, and the small company sat there without a word, watching
+the footman light the gas in the glass chandelier.
+
+"What do you suppose we have been talking about?" asked Sara
+desperately.
+
+"I can't imagine, my dear," said her father. "I am far too cross. I hate
+these odd ways."
+
+"We were discussing the validity of Anglican Orders."
+
+"God bless my soul!" exclaimed his lordship; "what next?"
+
+Agnes, who was looking pale and worried, frowned with displeasure.
+
+"But how disloyal!" she said severely. "As if one could even discuss
+such a question!"
+
+"Mr. Orange is a Roman Catholic," answered Sara, "so he is not disloyal.
+I am nothing--so I have no obligations. Lord Reckage is in public life
+and has to meet the problems of the age. Don't be narrow, dear Agnes."
+
+"I think it too bad, all the same," replied Miss Carillon--"even in fun.
+I am sure I am right."
+
+Lord Reckage tried to conceal his annoyance, but his voice shook a
+little as he said--
+
+"We were not joking. New men will come in, not improbably with new
+ideas. I must be ready for them. An ignorance of men's moods is fatal."
+
+He hoped she would take this warning to herself. She was, however, too
+stirred to consider anything except the cause of their common agitation.
+
+"Dr. Benson was saying to papa only last week," she answered, "that
+there is no apparent recognition of the Divine presence in our daily
+affairs. It is most shocking."
+
+"The clergy are doing their level best, by bigotry, to make Benson's
+assertion true. At any rate, I am not going about, as the French put it,
+with my paws in the air. I feel strongly tempted to throw up my present
+line, and give the whole Association to the best qualified hypocrite of
+my acquaintance."
+
+"The sure way out of that temptation is not to think yourself exposed to
+it," said Robert quickly.
+
+"I hate sophistries," said Agnes, tightening her lips. "And I hope,
+Beauclerk, that you will never remain in any painful situation against
+your will."
+
+These words seemed to bear an ominous significance. Agnes herself,
+having uttered them, received one of those sudden inward illuminations
+which, in some natures, amount to second-sight. But she was
+unimaginative and not especially observant, sensitive, or skilled in
+discerning the signs of any psychological disturbance. She felt only, on
+this occasion, that a crisis had been reached, that Reckage was vexed
+with himself, with her, with life generally. She had a letter in her
+pocket from David Rennes--a beautiful, touching letter, full of longing
+for a faith, a hope--love, he said, he possessed, alas! What a
+difference in the two men!
+
+"You don't understand," said Sara. "You are right because you haven't
+heard enough. Mr. Orange is going to give a lecture on Church History,
+and Lord Reckage has promised to be chairman. They will hold the meeting
+at St. James's Hall, and I am sure it will be most interesting. More I
+cannot tell you, because they have gone no further in their plans."
+
+But misfortune had entered the room, and that wayfarer--once
+admitted--asserts her ill-will without let or hindrance. Agnes, barely
+touching her tea, rose to say goodbye. Lord Garrow and Reckage escorted
+her to the hall. They helped her into a carriage (lent her for that
+afternoon by the Duchess of Pevensey), and she drove away, trembling,
+tearful, afraid, not reminding her _fiance_ that they were to meet at
+dinner in the evening. He walked homeward, but not until he had decided,
+after much hesitation, that he could scarcely go back again to Lady
+Sara. His thoughts were fixed now to one refrain--"I must have my
+freedom." Freedom, at that moment, had a mocking, lovely face, the
+darkest blue eyes, and quantities of long, black hair. She wore a violet
+dress, her hands were white, and she talked like a Blue Book set to
+music by Beethoven. Yes, he must have his freedom and live.
+
+Sara and Orange, meanwhile, left alone in the drawing-room, were
+exchanging interrogatory glances, "What do you think now?" she asked;
+"do you pretend to believe that Agnes and Beauclerk can make each other
+even moderately contented?"
+
+"Then you are to blame."
+
+A flush swept over her face. She looked bitter reproaches, but she made
+no answer.
+
+"And why are you so interested in Anglican Orders?" he continued. "How
+is it that you know your subject so well? For you do know it well."
+
+"Catholic questions always appeal to me," she said coldly. "I have no
+religion, but I come from a race of politicians and soldiers--on my
+mother's side. I must have an intellectual _pied a terre_, and I require
+a good cause. Party politics are too parochial for me. So I am on the
+side of the Vatican."
+
+"_La reine s'amuse_," said Robert. "Is that all?"
+
+"Yes, that's all."
+
+She turned over the music on her writing-table and hummed some bars from
+the Kyrie of Mozart's Twelfth Mass.
+
+"If you were a Jesuit," said she, "you would try to convert me."
+
+"St. Ignatius never wasted time over insincere women."
+
+"I am not insincere," she said frankly. "I own I may seem so. But you
+are not kind, and some day you may be sorry for this."
+
+Her eyes filled with tears--which he noticed and attributed to fatigue.
+
+"I wonder how men ever accomplish anything!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"They have no insight. They mistake self-control for coldness, and
+despair for flippancy. Isn't that the case?"
+
+"One can be light and true as well as light and false. Now you are
+witty, beautiful, brilliant--but you don't always ring true."
+
+She seemed confused for a minute, and hung her head.
+
+"All the same," she said, suddenly, "I am always sincere with you. It is
+not in my power to be so with every one. 'Fate overrules my will.'"
+
+"That is the trouble with most of us."
+
+Then he wished her goodbye, promising, however, to call again with
+regard to the Meeting. Lord Garrow met him on the staircase.
+
+"I congratulate you on your election to Brookes's," stammered his
+lordship, "but for Heaven's sake be cautious at play. Really, the
+younger men there are trying to revive the worst traditions in gaming.
+The loo was rather high at Chetwynd's last night," he added, with a
+studied air of guilt. "I won L500 from my host. I call that the
+limit--even on old Cabinet Steinberg!"
+
+He smiled, he waved his hand, feeling that he had displayed great taste
+in a situation of enormous difficulty. Something unusual, too, in the
+young man's face touched his heart. It seemed to him that here was one
+who had felt the world's buffets.
+
+"I have never been just in my estimate of Mr. Orange," said he to Sara,
+as he re-entered the drawing-room. "I quite took to him to-day. He has a
+fine countenance, and I am sure he is very much cut up by this painful
+affair. It's a pity he's a Catholic, for he would make such an excellent
+canon for St. Paul's. He would _look_ the part so well."
+
+"'Happiness, that nymph with unreturning feet,' has passed him by," said
+Sara, watching herself in one of the mirrors.
+
+"She has passed a good many," sighed his lordship. "But play me that
+lovely air which Titiens sings in _Il Flauto Magico_."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+Agnes was too ill to appear at the Duchess of Pevensey's dinner that
+evening. Lord Reckage's melancholy, absent air during the entertainment,
+and his early withdrawal from the distinguished party, were referred,
+with sympathy, to the very proper distress he felt at Miss Carillon's
+tiresome indisposition. The time passed well enough for him--far better,
+in fact, than he had expected, for he was relieved from the strain of
+"dancing attendance" on his betrothed--a thing which he, even more than
+most men, found silly. In the chivalrous days of tournaments,
+troubadours and crusades this romantic exercise of seeming enslaved was,
+he held, justifiable, even interesting. But in modern life it had an
+appearance of over-emphasis.
+
+Poor Agnes, however, could neither eat, nor sleep, nor rest. Her temples
+throbbed, her eyes ached; every nerve was a barbed wire; her soul was
+manacled by promises; she would not use her reason; the fever in her
+veins was not to be quelled, and the one agitating relief to her
+physical suffering was a constant perusal of David Rennes's letter. It
+was the first passionate love-letter she had ever received. Just as a
+river may stream peacefully through pastoral lands till it joins the sea
+and becomes one with that vast element of unrest, so the little flame of
+her girl's nature was absorbed at last into the great fire underlying
+all humanity. Was she in love? she asked herself. When she was with
+Rennes she became silent, incapable of conversation, of thought. All she
+asked was to be near him, to watch him, to hear him.
+
+Was this love? Was it love to press his letter to her heart, to read it
+again and again, to keep it under her pillow at night? Was it love to
+think of him every moment of the day, to compare all others to him and
+find them wanting, to see his face always before her eyes? Was it love
+to know that if he called her, as he called her now, she would leave
+home, father, mother, friends, all things, all people, and follow him to
+the world's end, to the beginning of hell, or--further? At
+one-and-twenty such questions need no answer. They belong to the
+innocent rhetoric of youth which will cry out to June, "Are you fair?"
+and to the autumnal moon in mist, "Must there be rain?" Neither June nor
+the moon make reply, but youth has no doubts. The girl, weeping tears of
+joy over Rennes's perilous words, had but one clear regret in her
+mind--she could not see him for some hours. His declaration dispelled
+the terrible bitterness, scepticism, and indifference to all sentiment
+which had gradually permeated, during their acquaintance, her whole
+heart. Repulsed affection may turn to hatred in haughty, impatient
+souls. But in Agnes it produced a moral languor--a mental indolence--the
+feeling that no one was in earnest, and nothing ought to matter. The
+more this feeling deepened, the more attentively did she observe the
+mere outward etiquette of all that passes for seriousness, attending
+scrupulously to the minor obligations of existence and exhausting her
+courage in those petty matters which die with the day and yield no
+apparent fruit. How different now seemed the colourless, harsh fabric
+which she had mistaken for duty and wrapped--as a shroud--about her
+secret hopes! She had held every aspiration implying happiness as a
+"proverb of reproach"; she had endeavoured to believe that all
+poetry--except hymns--was false prophecy leading one to hard
+entanglements and grievous falls.
+
+And what had been the impoverishment of her soul under this grim
+discipline? How could she tell the many thoughts which had travelled
+unquestioned over the highway of her heart during that process of
+disillusion? But all was changed now, and all that had been difficult,
+painful or obscure in the world seemed perfect with the inexhaustible
+glory of young passion. Rennes begged her to see him once more before he
+left England for some years. Would she meet him in Kensington Gardens?
+She had often walked there, under the old trees, with himself and Mrs.
+Rennes, and the place had become very dear, very familiar to her from
+these associations. At any other time, however, the idea of a
+clandestine meeting with David would have been intolerable. To go now
+was misery, yet she dared not stay away. The sunny morning mixed with
+her mood, which was one of determination to risk all in order to win
+all. Driven by a sense of her capabilities for endurance, she faced,
+with a kind of exultation, the possible disaster or remorse which might
+follow her action. Was there not a possible joy also? For ten days now
+she had been ill in body as well as mind; she had suffered a hard
+struggle. She knew now that she could not, could not, could not, no
+matter what happened, become the wife of Lord Reckage. The result of
+great self-delusion for so long a period was a condition of mind in
+which she was practically unable to distinguish between candour and
+disingenuousness. Any appearance of deceit--which she regarded as wrong
+in itself--always excited her scorn, but desperation now urged a step
+which might lead, she thought, to much good or much evil. That it could
+lead to more evil than a loveless marriage was not, however, to be
+feared. She started from the house with feverish cheeks, a beating
+pulse, and a new strange consciousness of power--power over herself, her
+fate, the world.
+
+Rennes was waiting for her under the long avenue of trees by the
+Lancaster Gate walk. She had a tall, stately figure of that type
+immortalised by Du Maurier--indeed, she herself may be recognised in
+some of his famous society sketches about the year 1870. The clear,
+decisive features, the tender discerning expression, the poise of the
+head, were irresistibly attractive to all artists with a strong sense of
+grace--even artificial grace--as opposed to rude vigour or homeliness.
+She possessed naturally that almost unreal elegance which many
+painters--Frederick Walker, for instance--have been accused of
+inventing.
+
+"This is very wrong of me," she said, blushing as Rennes advanced, hat
+in hand, to meet her, "very wrong. I never do these things."
+
+"I said in my letter--right or wrong it matters not--what I thought.
+This is a thing which runs up into eternity, Agnes. It had to be. We
+needn't try to justify it."
+
+"I cannot--I dare not regard it as you do."
+
+"But you have come! Let me look at you!"
+
+"Does it require much looking to see that I am really unhappy?"
+
+"I see that you are beautiful, that you are here--with me. Ah, don't be
+unhappy! When we take into account our scanty time together"--he grew
+pale at the thought--"and the danger we have just missed of losing each
+other, perhaps for ever----" She caught his hand for a second and he
+kept it.
+
+"What is to be done?" she asked, after an agitated silence. "What will
+people say? Not that I can think of _anything_ to do."
+
+"Darling, I know I have asked you to make an impossible sacrifice--to
+break off a most brilliant marriage, to marry me and share the despair,
+hardships, tortures of a life very different to any you have seen. Well
+has Goethe said--
+
+    _'Love not the sun too much, nor yet the stars,
+    Come, follow me to the realms of night.'_
+
+This is what I offer you, dearest. You can hardly realise what a
+wretched, desolate existence mine has been. Resignation is a miserable
+refuge. They say work gives one contentment, but unless one is servile
+and gives in to the spirit of the age, it is rarely understood till one
+is dead. And so the discouragement is perpetual. Even your sympathy
+would pain me at such times. I feel then--as I feel now--that I will
+grasp Fate by the throat; it shall not utterly crush me."
+
+"But," said Agnes, a little frightened at this outburst, "do you never
+think of God and His Will?"
+
+He returned her anxious glance with gloomy, almost compassionate
+amazement.
+
+"Does God think of me?" he asked. "Really, I cannot feel that the
+salvation of my soul is so important. Indeed, any idea of immortality is
+awful How could it ever be a consolation--except to a smug, very
+self-satisfied egoism? Call it the burden--or the cross of
+immortality--if you call it anything. I wish it could be proved that we
+end when we die. But physicians dissect _dead_ bodies to find the soul.
+It would not be a soul if they could find it in the dead. And imagine
+one becoming penitent when the day of grace is over!"
+
+"I keep Clement's words before me, '_The Lord who died for us is not our
+enemy_.' Surely that is a splendid thought against final despair."
+
+"Many thoughts are splendid," he replied, "if we could believe them now
+as the early Christians did in the first centuries."
+
+Agnes, with parted, whitening lips, could find no response. Rennes
+painted her afterwards in the same attitude, and with all he remembered
+of her expression, in his now famous picture, _Pilate's Wife_.
+
+"You will never be happy--never," she murmured at last. "But perhaps no
+one is happy."
+
+"I can grant that the saints were always profoundly happy. Let me tell
+you why. The state of the saint is one of dependence. His convictions,
+therefore, are enduring and unclouded. He accepts his trials as
+privileges; he loses all sense of his own identity; his humanity is
+merged in God; his ecstasies lift him up to heaven and bring him down to
+a transfigured earth. He has been bought with a ransom, and he is the
+co-heir with Christ. He is found worthy of suffering. But with artists,
+all is different. The saint is in search of holiness. The artist thinks
+chiefly of beauty. Holiness is a state of mind--it is something
+permanent. Beauty, however, mocks one half the time--it may be a
+deception. Anyhow, one cannot define it, or keep it, or even
+satisfactorily catch it. Our inspired moments, therefore, alternate with
+a miserable knowledge of our individual wretchedness. We learn that we
+are no stronger than our individuality. That is the barrier between us
+and our visions. The saint has God before his eyes, and he carries Him
+in his heart. The artist sees only himself and bears only the weight of
+his own incompetence. But these, darling, are not the things I meant to
+say to you, although they may explain my life. The common run of people
+wouldn't understand all this in the least."
+
+"I want to hear all--I want to enter into all your thoughts, David. I
+have always known that those who devote themselves to the study of what
+is sublime and beautiful suffer proportionately from the squalor of
+actual facts."
+
+She quoted from one or her father's speeches which he invariably gave
+with much earnestness at the opening of schools of art and similar
+institutions.
+
+"The world," replied Rennes, "rewards the beautiful only inasmuch as it
+flatters the senses, and the sublime remains--so far as the general
+taste is concerned--altogether without response."
+
+"But one would think," said Agnes, "that you were a disappointed or an
+unsuccessful man, whereas every one admires your genius."
+
+He laughed at her practical bent, which seemed the more fascinating
+because of her picturesque appearance.
+
+"One often feels cast down without the least cause," said he; "the truth
+is we all want more praise than we get. We are a vain lot, that's the
+trouble. Let me paint myself in the blackest colours. You must know the
+worst--you must realise the bad bargain you may make. Reckage would
+never bore and tire you in this way. How can you care for me?"
+
+"It _is_ hard!" she said, smiling.
+
+"Darling! Do you remember the white violets at Woodbridge, and sitting
+on that gate looking across that deep valley at the bonfires? Wasn't it
+perfect? Look through these trees now--see the flames and smoke? They
+are burning dead leaves and twigs. I wish I could burn my past. This may
+be a good omen for me. But I must not deceive you; that would be a bad
+beginning."
+
+"We must decide on some course," said Agnes. "Your letter was quite
+clear, but I suppose I am not going on as I ought to do. My present
+position is that of a person telling a lie to people. Before you wrote,
+however, I had made up my mind to _some_ change. I could give no good
+grounds for carrying out my engagement to Beauclerk. The motives would
+not bear examination. I intended to be patient till the way was
+mercifully cleared for me. Even birds, in cold weather, grow tame from
+distress. So I waited in a dull, frozen way for what might happen."
+
+He remembered, with a pang of remorse, that he had once called this
+devoted woman an accomplished, incurable Philistine.
+
+"I must put myself in the wrong with regard to Beauclerk," she continued
+quietly. "That is merely fair to him. Every one shall know that I have
+been weak and vacillating. May God forgive me and humble me--for I shall
+not be understood, even by many good people. But the next worst thing to
+making an error is to abide by it. Dear David, try to follow my feeling.
+It has all passed in my mind in such a way that it is impossible for me
+to describe it. In a sense, giving Reckage up seems to uproot me
+altogether from all my former life, and the future is only not a blank
+because it is such a mystery. I am sure, though, that sorrow is never in
+God's ordinance the _whole_ law of life. These are great compensations."
+
+"Anything is better than to sit still and dream," said Rennes. "I have
+dreamt too long. I find solitude oppressive. Yet you will admit how
+dreadful it is to live among those who don't know or don't care a bit
+about art."
+
+"But there are other interests equally engrossing."
+
+"Not to me. And even Epicurean advice is only the way to ignominious,
+contemptible happiness. I must have an ideal life or else
+annihilation--splendid misery or splendid content--nothing between the
+two."
+
+"You have not half showed your capabilities yet," replied Agnes. "We
+have to look upon this world as the merest pilgrimage, but we can help
+each other. I have hope because I have faith. Sara de Treverell said the
+other day that, in men, experience often makes mere callousness of
+character. Is this true, David?"
+
+"Not of me; you have saved me from the worst things. But it simply
+worries and almost exasperates me to hear religious talk from any one.
+When I hear a sermon I feel an inclination always to say, 'My dear
+fellow, can't you put your case better?' I want good stuff about Divine
+and human nature--not this vagueness and platitude. Why don't they tell
+one something about the optimism of God, even before the spectacle of
+men's weakness? But, instead, we are told to moan about this vale of
+tears; we are promised chastisements, disappointments, woes,
+persecution. A philosophy of suffering makes men strong, but a
+philosophy of despair is bound to make a generation of pleasure-seekers."
+
+"And why?"
+
+"Because the veritable world, even on its bare merits, _is not so bad_.
+It is full of beauty, and interest, and enjoyment. It is a lie to call
+it so many vile names. One's good sense revolts. Do you think, darling,
+that I could look at you, love you, be loved by you, and call life a bad
+joke?"
+
+Since the beginning of time this logic has held its own against all
+scientific criticism. The two, being secure from observation, kissed
+each other and accepted the earth with perfect cheerfulness. They made
+some plans, and after the agony of parting till the next day, each went
+home to write the other a long letter. In the course of the afternoon
+Rennes passed through Arlington Street four times in a hansom and twice
+on foot. Agnes was always at one of the windows innocently observing the
+weather. He thought her the loveliest thing created. He pitied, with
+benevolence, all other men, and he spent an hour at his solicitor's
+office, without begrudging the time, or chafing under the fatigue.
+
+Two days later Lord Reckage received the following communication from
+Miss Carillon:--
+
+     MY DEAR BEAUCLERK,--
+
+     This letter will astonish and grieve you. I have written several.
+     None please me. All say too much and yet leave all unsaid. I must
+     send this one and trust to your generosity. I am wholly to blame,
+     wholly in the wrong. I am no actress but I have been acting a
+     part--the part of a happy woman. My effort has deceived many--Papa,
+     Mamma, and, I believe, you among them. Dear Beauclerk, you will
+     think me ungrateful, false, weak. I don't excuse myself. As I have
+     said, the blame is all mine, and the punishment must be all mine.
+
+     When you receive this I shall have left England with Mr. Rennes. He
+     had arranged to go to the East for a long time. (This will show you
+     how little he anticipated any change in _my_ plans.) When I
+     realised that I should have to say goodbye to him, probably for
+     ever, I found myself unequal to the trial. I could not let him go
+     alone. It is bad for me to dwell too much on my feelings. I ought
+     to admit, however, that I have known all along, in a sort of way,
+     that I should have to give in _if he put the matter before me_. I
+     dislike the talk one hears so often about inevitability--much of it
+     is made an excuse for appalling selfishness. At the same time, I
+     understand what is meant and feel strongly, that, while I am using
+     my own will--I cannot use it, _with a good conscience_, otherwise.
+     Can you follow this? In reality, I was disloyal to Mr. Rennes when
+     I became engaged to you. I was impatient, wilful, blind. I did you
+     both an irreparable--yes, an irreparable injustice. He must always
+     think me fickle, and you will always condemn my weakness. I dare
+     not ask you to forgive me. I dare not hope for contentment after
+     such a bad beginning. One of Papa's favourite texts rings in my
+     ears--"_Is it a small thing for you to weary men, but will ye weary
+     my God also?_" I mustn't be insincere with God. But I do want you
+     to see that my affection for Mr. Rennes has taken such a hold of my
+     life that I simply cannot fight against it. I am not sentimental,
+     as you know: I can be quite as sensible as other people about life
+     and its obligations. I don't expect romance or joy. Had I, by any
+     misfortune, met Mr. Rennes _after_ my marriage with you, I cannot
+     bear to think what might have happened. It isn't nice of me to say
+     this. It is a painful, humiliating reflection, and you won't like
+     to think that you ever cared--even a little--for any one so
+     unworthy. In your kindness you will say that this isn't like me.
+     But indeed it is the real me. You have known the _un_real, sham
+     me. Every one of my friends will be surprised. I am not surprised.
+     And oh! the relief to be quite, quite natural and straightforward
+     at last. Nothing to pretend, nothing to hide. I wish you had never
+     known me. Your ideals are so noble, and you depended on me to
+     realise a few of them. I think of the plans we made, the hopes we
+     formed. Alas! they were not for me. I am going forward into the
+     darkness. I don't see one ray of light. Yet I haven't one misgiving
+     or the least fear, because I have the unalterable conviction that I
+     am fulfilling my true destiny--whatever it may be, good or evil.
+
+     All will agree that you are well rid of me. This is my consolation.
+     You have been kind, considerate, affectionate, thoughtful always.
+     And I have failed you.
+
+     Forget me, and never judge other women by me. I have been
+     exceptionally foolish.
+
+                        Your wretched friend,
+
+                                AGNES CARILLON.
+
+His lordship's emotion on reading this letter was one of relief for
+himself--but pity and terror for the girl. He was sincerely fond of
+Agnes, and the defiant misery of her words filled him with forebodings.
+But the sense of his own restored liberty soon dominated every other
+feeling; and his anxiety about Miss Carillon's future found complete
+assuagement in the thought that character, under suffering, came out
+with an energy and intensity which made, indisputably, for progress.
+
+When the news, after twenty-four hours, became known, Agnes's wish to
+place herself in the wrong, beyond sympathy, or hope of pardon, was
+freely gratified. No criticism seemed too harsh for her conduct. No
+voice was lifted in mitigation of her offence. Rennes was excused,
+because he was an artist, erratic and passionate, and she was
+unfortunately beautiful. The poor old Bishop, however, rallied under the
+shock, preached more vigorously than ever, and showed a proud
+countenance to his daughter's adversaries. When he was able to announce
+to his friends--after a painful fortnight of suspense--that the young
+couple had travelled to Rome with Mrs. Rennes, and been married at the
+English Embassy there, he gave way to a little illness and indulged his
+grief. One could surrender to legalised folly; one could name it. But
+sin and scandal could only be faced by an implacable reserve. "I may die
+of dismay," said he to his wife, "but I will not die of disgrace."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+Scandal, meanwhile, was collecting her eager forces for a great campaign
+against the Orange marriage. It was unanimously decided that the affair
+could not be hushed up. Sympathy--within wise limits--was on the side of
+the lovers, but sympathy, nevertheless, expressed a desire to hear
+fuller particulars. Society journalism was, at that time, just coming
+into vogue, and the weekly papers contained several references to the
+strange rumour of an approaching divorce. Hartley Penborough and the
+members of the Capitol Club were wondering what line they ought to take.
+They intended to stand by Robert, but they did not wish to advertise
+their loyalty. The Carlton set were divided into two camps--those who
+thought Orange unlucky, and those who thought him an alien adventurer.
+So far as these opinions touched his career, both were damaging. The
+friends of Lord Wight and Lady Fitz Rewes had always been jealous of the
+young man. They discussed him now with ferocious pity, announcing his
+ruin in every circle. Sara de Treverell's associates were mostly of the
+Diplomatic Corps. These, well informed about Alberian affairs and
+Parflete's history, feared much mischief. The old Catholics were
+dismayed at the new convert's entanglement--especially as he had
+recently been elected to Parliament. The more timorous among them--in a
+panic--entertained unfounded doubts about his orthodoxy, and the rest
+deplored the injudicious attention bestowed on mere recruits to the
+Ancient Faith. Converts then were looked upon, in England, with a
+certain suspicion. At that period the magnificent services of Dr. Newman
+and Cardinal Manning were far more appreciated at Rome than they were in
+the drawing-rooms of English Catholic society. Orange, following his own
+instincts and the advice of Newman, avoided rather than sought the small
+group which attempted to make the Eternal Church a Select Committee of
+the Uncommonly Good. To one who had spent his youth in a great Catholic
+nation, and came himself from one of the princely families of France,
+the servitude necessarily involved by the fact of joining any
+_coterie_--no matter how agreeable--could possess no sort of attraction.
+His Catholic friends were chiefly among the Jesuits, an order which, by
+devotion, genius, and courage, has excited that fear from all men which
+is the highest homage this world can offer to integrity. His personal
+sorrow, therefore, was not degraded by any foolish additional worry
+about the tittle-tattle of this, that, or the other personage. Tongues
+might wag; for himself, he could but do his duty and keep his account
+straight with God. He hoped that a public law-suit would be avoided.
+Baron Zeuill was using his influence, so he declared, to arrive at some
+settlement with Parflete. Parflete's agent was now in communication with
+Robert's solicitors; he himself was known to be in London, and he had
+even been seen dining with foreigners at one of the small private hotels
+near the Strand. The Alberian Ambassador informed Mr. Disraeli that
+there was nothing to fear because Parflete was not ambitious. "The
+corruption of egoism and the insatiable love of pleasure" had done its
+worst to a character never striking for its energy. He would "desert"
+his wife again if she would give him a sufficient sum. Mrs. Parflete,
+Disraeli pointed out, was the last woman on earth to agree to such
+terms. She was also perfectly well aware, he added, that she was the
+legitimate daughter of the late Archduke Charles.
+
+"But," said the Ambassador, "surely she will love the glory of her
+country and the respect due to her Imperial father's memory far better
+than her own legal rights?"
+
+"You can't narrow the question to a mere sentimental issue," said
+Disraeli. "It is no such thing. She has to defend her character. Orange
+must clear his reputation."
+
+Disraeli had formed the opinion that Alberia--as represented by His
+Excellency--was by no means anxious to see Mrs. Parflete's innocence
+established; that, in fact, the whole disaster had been planned and
+executed in the sole design of compromising her status. All that had
+occurred, all that he had observed led him to this conviction more and
+more. It was decided that Brigit should be summoned at once from Paris
+to take up her residence at the Convent, where she had been well
+protected during the earlier part of the year.
+
+     "There is to be no appeal _ad misericordiam_," wrote Disraeli to
+     Orange: "what you have done, you have done in good faith and
+     perfect honesty. Parflete, beyond a doubt, will take some action.
+     His conscience provides him, in this difficulty, with the best
+     means of self-advertisement he has yet found. He has consulted
+     several Bishops, the Lord Chief Justice, all the ambassadors, and
+     most of the intelligent Peers. He wanders from one confessional to
+     another: St. Philip, St. Teresa, St. Benedict, and St. Dominic are
+     invoked perpetually for the disarmament of his scruples. Vanity
+     blinds him to the danger of assassination. Alberia is in a red
+     mood. _Carissime_, the dark, inevitable hour will come. Be prepared
+     for it. Depend entirely now on the might of your religious belief.
+     Men cannot assist you. I have helped many, but no one has ever
+     helped me. Political life must be taken as you find it, and it is
+     neither in my disposition, nor, I am sure, in yours, to indulge in
+     complaints of unkindness. I have reached a point now when I should
+     like to quote Dante. Consider him quoted, and believe me,
+
+                        "Ever yours,
+
+                                "D."
+
+The course of the intrigue may be followed most conveniently at this
+point in the document known as Mudara's Confession.
+
+Mudara, it will be remembered, was in the Alberian Secret
+Service.[Footnote: See The School for Saints, p. 395.] He it was who
+confirmed the false news of Parflete's suicide, and did so much to
+hasten Orange's marriage. He says in his narrative:--
+
+     The death of the Archduke Charles--which occurred some weeks before
+     it was anticipated--put the Alberian Government to very grave
+     embarrassment.
+
+     1. It was impossible to deny the legitimacy of the Archduchess
+     Marie-Brigitte-Henriette (known as Mrs. Parflete). The rumour was
+     officially denied, and every proper measure was taken for the
+     suppression of a fact dangerous at all times and especially so
+     during a national crisis. Had the Archduchess been so ill-advised
+     as to stand upon her legal rights, the case would have been very
+     awkward for the Government. They intended, in any event, to plead
+     ignorance, and had prepared every proof of their good faith in
+     withstanding the claim.
+
+     2. It was clear, beyond a doubt, on the highest ecclesiastical
+     authority, that, if application were made, the marriage between the
+     Archduchess and Parflete would be annulled at Rome. Parflete was
+     regarded with great suspicion. He was capable of any treachery. He
+     could not hold his tongue, and we know what that means at Court.
+     The one person he feared was the Archduke Charles, and now that
+     death had removed His Imperial Highness, we understood what to
+     expect from the disgraced Equerry.
+
+     3. The Government's Agents had formed a very high opinion of M. de
+     Hausee (known as Robert Orange). It was considered by the
+     Government's advisers that this gentleman would use all his
+     influence to crush any foolish ambition on the part of the
+     Archduchess Marie-Brigitte. M. de Hausee was himself of too noble a
+     family to care in the least for high-sounding titles or empty
+     rights. M. de Hausee (whose mother was Scotch) had become a British
+     subject, and had been elected to the English Parliament. He was
+     under the protection of Mr. Disraeli, had every prospect of a
+     brilliant political career as a Commoner, and he had too much good
+     sense--in view of the very large fortune settled upon the
+     Archduchess--to diminish it by any imprudent insistence on a claim
+     which, extremely valuable as a ground for some advantageous
+     compromise, could only prove ruinous if pressed to any exact
+     recognition. The Government's advisers, therefore, approved most
+     highly of the marriage between M. de Hausee and the Archduchess
+     Marie-Brigitte-Henriette, and were disposed to hasten it on by
+     every means. On the news, _properly authenticated_, of Parflete's
+     suicide on Lord Soham's yacht, I visited England and had interviews
+     with the Archduchess herself, with M. de Hausee at Catesby, and
+     with Baron Zeuill at Claridge's Hotel. The _proofs_ of Parflete's
+     death were in perfect order, and the marriage between M. de Hausee
+     and H.I.H. took place in the Chapel of the Alberian Embassy.
+
+     As I had made all the arrangements, I engaged the servants for the
+     reception of the bride and groom at the Villa Miraflores. I was
+     able to retain a small room at the back of the house for my own
+     use. On the day of their arrival, I concealed myself, without
+     difficulty, in the apartment where Mr. Orange and the Archduchess
+     had their _dejeuner_. It was an unfortunate circumstance that I did
+     not destroy the telegram which I saw on the mantel-piece. But I
+     supposed it contained some ordinary congratulations. A more vulgar
+     prudence than mine would have read and burnt it in any case. My
+     fault is, unquestionably, a most inopportune delicacy of feeling. I
+     witnessed the whole scene between Mr. Orange and Her Imperial
+     Highness. It brought tears to my eyes, but as evidence it was
+     valueless for my purpose. She wept, stormed, and showed much
+     feeling. I was reminded in many ways of her mother, Madame Duboc.
+     M. de Hausee, of purer blood, is like those players who, in spite
+     of an air of indifference at great losses, feel them none the less.
+     I consider it my duty as a gentleman to say that his bearing
+     through the ordeal did credit to his noble family and his personal
+     character. The Archduchess, who is foolhardy and insolent, does not
+     deserve such a lover, and it is grievous to think that such a
+     termagant should have so much power over such a man. I regard her
+     as I would some poisonous reptile. Piety--which improves most
+     women--only seems to render her the more defiant, and love--which
+     softens most wills--makes hers the more hard. After parting with M.
+     de Hausee she swooned, and I thought what a merciful thing it would
+     be for all of us if she never regained consciousness. This
+     idea--which may have been an inspiration--was before me, when I
+     heard a slight rustling behind the curtains. I pulled out my
+     revolver (although I had no intention of firing), aimed it, and
+     said, "Who is there?"
+
+     To my amazement, Parflete himself came out.
+
+     "For God's sake, don't shoot," said he, "it is I."
+
+     He cried bitterly at the sight of the Archduchess--for she was
+     looking extraordinarily beautiful. He cursed himself loudly, put me
+     to terrible anxiety, and I repented of my recklessness in not
+     getting rid of such a fool long ago. With great presence of mind I
+     rang the bell, and we withdrew to my hiding-place while the
+     servant came in, raised a hue and cry, and finally carried the
+     insensible Archduchess to a bedroom. When the coast was clear we
+     emerged. I asked Parflete what he meant to do, why he was there,
+     and how he had got into the house.
+
+     "To sound the soul of another," said he, still maudlin. "You must
+     first have searched deeply your own. Remorse has brought me here.
+     My better nature reasserts itself." And more to that effect. "There
+     is nothing new under the sun!" he wound up.
+
+     "Why should there be?" said I, exasperated. "Come to the point."
+
+     "My wife is the purest, noblest of beings!" said he.
+
+     "You will defend any jade on earth, provided she be handsome," said
+     I, but seeing an ugly light in his eye, I added, "but H.I.H. is
+     certainly respectable. To this we have both been witnesses."
+
+     "What is to be done?" he cried, beating his head. "Can I forget her
+     interests? Who, better than I, should take the place of her
+     adviser, her Prime Minister? Affairs in Alberia cannot long remain
+     in this violent state. There must be a _denouement_."
+
+     I answered him sharply.
+
+     "You know quite well that the Archduchess can never hope for
+     official recognition from any Alberian Ministry--let alone the
+     sovereigns of Europe. An aggressive attitude on her part could at
+     most and at the worst, but lead to these things--a change of
+     dynasty, and the annexation of Alberia by one of the Powers, or its
+     partition among some of them. We wish Alberia to become another
+     Switzerland--a little Paradise of law-abiding, industrious, rich,
+     independent people!"
+
+     "All the same," said he, "my wife may not sell her birth-right.
+     Such a proceeding is directly opposite to the Will of God."
+
+     "She will be a good claimant--after all this scandal with the
+     Carlists and de Hausee," said I. "I can imagine the welcome
+     extended to her by Bismarck! We have seen enough of this kind of
+     thing in France and Spain."
+
+     We talked for an hour. He was as obstinate as a mule and as
+     incoherent as running water. I could grasp him nowhere. It was like
+     groping in a well for a lighted torch. No doubt he had formed in
+     his own mind some obscure, incalculable intrigue, but no reason can
+     guess the plans which are made by an unreasoning person.
+
+     "The Archduchess is rich, young, and handsome," said I; "it would
+     be folly to change her noble independence for a political slavery
+     fatal to her peace--perhaps her life."
+
+     "But duty is above such weak considerations," said he, rolling his
+     eyes. "My wife must remember the nation."
+
+     "Do you believe," I rejoined, "that you would get the nation's
+     sanction to the general upset which you propose? You must be mad."
+
+     "Nations go mad," said he, smiling; "why not to my advantage, then,
+     as well as yours?"
+
+     He refused to tell me how he got into the house, but it must have
+     been by bribery. His sneers and insults were insinuated with such
+     skill that retaliation on the spot was impossible. He made his
+     escape by suddenly extinguishing the lamp, which left the room in
+     pitch darkness. I felt it would be undignified to stumble about in
+     vain pursuit of a man so active and so _canaille_ in all his
+     methods. He must have been on good terms with the servants, for a
+     considerable time elapsed before they replied to my summons, and
+     when I asked them, each in turn, whether he had been seen, one and
+     all assumed the greatest astonishment and innocence, but none
+     appeared in any way alarmed, which they must have done had they not
+     been well aware of his presence in the house. I said no more, for,
+     by treating the matter lightly, I made them look--to
+     themselves--dupes and very ridiculous. I remained at the Villa
+     until the Archduchess and Lady Fitz Rewes departed for Paris. I had
+     a short interview with M. de Hausee in my character of the late
+     Archduke's Agent. Our conversation was purely in connection with
+     H.I.H.'s money matters, although he said with great firmness at the
+     close, "The Archduchess will never embarrass Alberian affairs. Her
+     taste is not for Courts or politics." I know this is his true
+     conviction, but he is in love, and he measures her by his own
+     unselfishness. He won my heart strangely. In all my experience, he
+     is the one honest man who is not a little idiotic into the bargain.
+     I deplore the influence of women on such a character, and I would
+     have saved him from that Judith.
+
+Here, for the present, we must leave Mudara's narrative.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+The Alberian Ambassador, Prince d'Alchingen, considered himself a
+diplomatist of the Metternich school. He had imagination,
+sentimentality, and humour: he preferred to attack the strength rather
+than the weaknesses of mankind, and in all his schemes he counted
+inconsistency among the passions, and panic among the virtues. He still
+hoped that Orange might be tempted by the prospect of immediate
+happiness to press for the nullity of the Parflete marriage. Parflete
+himself was indulging in the most extravagant demonstrations of remorse.
+He behaved, as Disraeli said, more like a cunning woman than an able
+man, and he was an agent of the kind most dangerous to his
+employers--irregularly scrupulous, fond of boasting of his acquaintance
+with princes and ministers, so vain that he would rather have had
+notoriety without glory, than glory without notoriety. He had found the
+means of ingratiating himself with many persons of high rank, and he
+knew how to avail himself, with each, of his influence with the others.
+Never did an intrigue require more urgently a sort of conduct quite out
+of the common routine. The Prince, therefore, was much perturbed in
+mind, and cast about him for a trustworthy associate. By an associate he
+meant some one on whom he could test the quality of his deceit--in other
+words, he liked to try his sword on gossamer and granite before he
+struck out at commoner materials. Among his friendships, he prosecuted
+none with such zeal as that with the Lady Sara de Treverell. As the
+member of a great Russian house, she was especially attractive to
+Alberian speculation, but her beauty and cleverness no doubt assisted
+the Ambassador's determination to make himself agreeable. The two
+constantly exchanged letters, and, as the Princess d'Alchingen was an
+invalid who devoted her hours to spiritual reading, she gladly permitted
+Lady Sara's influence, realising--with the priceless knowledge of a
+spirit made reasonable through pain--that the girl was romantic and the
+Prince incurably old. His flaxen wig heightened the tone of a complexion
+much ravaged by gout and its antidotes. His nebulous eyes with twitching
+lids were not improved by the gold-rimmed glasses which magnified their
+insignificance. He possessed a striking nose and chin, but, as these
+features were more characteristic than delightful, they offered his wife
+no occasions for serious anxiety. Whenever His Excellency required
+feminine advice, it was considered quite _en regle_ that Lady Sara
+should be consulted. The Princess herself drove him to St. James's
+Square on the afternoon following Mr. Disraeli's call. She sent _milles
+tendresses_ to her _cherie_, and bitterly regretted that she was not
+well enough to leave the carriage. The Prince kissed her hand, bowed
+superbly, stood bareheaded in a draught till the brougham drove away (in
+these matters he had no equal), and, having warned Sara of his intended
+visit by a special messenger, he had the pleasure of finding the young
+lady alone. Following her custom, she was appropriately dressed for the
+occasion in prune-coloured velvet, which suggested dignity, and very
+beautiful antique Spanish lace, which symbolized the long endurance of
+things apparently too delicate, subtle, and trifling for the assaults of
+time. The Prince kissed both of her white hands, and lamented the
+obstacles which had kept them apart for so many insupportable weeks. He
+had lived on her letters. They had been, however, few and short.
+
+"What is troubling you, sir?" asked Sara, "you look pale."
+
+"For once in my life I wish to do a foolish thing--_pour encourager les
+autres_," was his reply. "I intend to meddle with a love-affair."
+
+"Whose love-affair?"
+
+"I will tell you presently. I never venture upon any work trusting alone
+to my hopes. I am not of those who discover rifts in their harness only
+on the morning of the battle! I prepare for all contingencies. First,
+then, let me put you through a little catechism. Do men ever believe
+evil reports about the women they love?"
+
+"The _posse non peccare_ is not the _non posse peccare_," said Sara
+quickly.
+
+"Do you mean that they can believe the evil, but, as a rule, they
+won't?" returned the Prince.
+
+"You translate freely, but you have caught the spirit!"
+
+"Very well. I come to my second question. Is a man better off with a
+dangerous woman whom he adores than with a good woman who adores _him_?"
+
+"All men who desire love, deserve it," said Sara. "The _means_ to this
+are always, in a manner, certainties, the _end_ is always problematical.
+But those who want love could never be satisfied with mere
+welfare--never."
+
+"You have a right to direct my opinion," he exclaimed; "where else do I
+hear such sound good sense? The usual women one meets in our circle are
+old, ugly, and proud--incapable of conversation with persons of
+intelligence. My wife," he added smoothly, "makes this complaint about
+her lady friends. It is very dull and very sad for her, although she is
+a saint."
+
+No conversation or letter was ever exchanged between Sara and the Prince
+without some emphatic tribute to the sanctity, prudence, and charm of
+the Princess.
+
+"The dear Princess!" murmured Sara.
+
+"And now," said His Excellency, drawing his chair an inch nearer, "I
+must be serious. You have guessed, of course, that I am thinking about
+Robert Orange and Mrs. Parflete. I stayed at Brookes's till after twelve
+last night in hopes of seeing Orange. I was discussing him with Lord
+Reckage."
+
+"What did Reckage say?"
+
+"Reckage doesn't mind raising a blister, but he won't often tell one
+what he thinks."
+
+Sara shivered a little and compressed her lips.
+
+"Reckage is fond of Orange," she said, "yet there is a certain
+jealousy.... Formerly, Orange had need of Reckage, and depended on him;
+now Reckage needs him and depends on Orange. Could he but know it,
+Orange is the one creature who could pull him through his difficulties
+with the Bond of Association. A man who has no personal ambition, who
+desires nothing that any one can give, who fears nothing that any one
+can do, who lives securely in the presence of God, is a power we must
+not under-rate."
+
+She spoke with enthusiasm--the enthusiasm which women seldom, if ever,
+display for principle on its bare merits. By the deepening colour in her
+eyes and sudden clearness in her cheeks, the Ambassador felt that he had
+reached a point where the emotions would have to be considered, even
+though they might not be counted on.
+
+"I have not time to tell you all the nonsense Reckage said," he
+answered. "So far as my own judgment can serve for a guide, I believe
+that he would like to see Orange under the care and discipline of St.
+Ignatius."
+
+"He wishes him to become a Jesuit priest? How selfish!"
+
+"Such is my impression. He wants so competent a colleague removed from
+the political sphere. If his words and actions are of a piece, he will
+certainly work hard to attain this object. He is saying everywhere,
+'Orange is a born ecclesiastic. Orange is a mystic. Orange is under the
+influence of Newman. Orange begins to see that marriage is not for him.'
+Such remarks don't help outside the Church. Really, competition renders
+the nicest people detestable."
+
+Lady Sara could not conceal her agitation. But she baffled her companion
+a little by saying--
+
+"I suppose you want Orange to marry your inopportune Archduchess?"
+
+"The lady in question is certainly inopportune. I have never called her
+an Archduchess. I leave such audacities to her enemies! But tell me what
+you think of _Mrs. Parflete_?"
+
+"I have never seen her. Pensee Fitz Rewes insists that she is beautiful,
+cold, determined, and uncommon."
+
+"Generally, there is nothing so fatal to a woman's success in the world
+as an early connection with a scoundrel. I have odd accounts of Mrs.
+Parflete from Madrid--the Marquis of Castrillon and an upstart called
+Bodava fought a duel about her in Baron Zeuill's gymnasium. A man called
+William Caffle, who attended to their wounds, has given me fullest
+particulars of the affair. I don't wish to injure the lady, but on
+account of eventualities which might arise, I am obliged to look a
+little about me."
+
+"I understand," said Sara.
+
+"The great point is not to let Parflete take the lead in the settlement.
+His present course of action isn't quite decent or consistent. Will
+Orange do nothing? It is wise to make peace whilst there is some faint
+appearance of choice left on the subject, so there is no time to be
+wasted."
+
+"What ought Orange to do?"
+
+"Reckage declares that he will not appeal to Rome. There he is
+well-advised. But as he has already compromised Mrs. Parflete, surely
+his present scruples are entirely new and unlooked for? We must both
+despise him, if he should abandon her now."
+
+"He has never compromised her," said Sara indignantly. "He has even been
+ridiculed for his honour. I had no idea, Excellence, that you were so
+wicked!"
+
+"How else could I know all the news twenty-four hours before the rest of
+the world? This, however, is no laughing matter. Parflete may ask his
+wife to return to him. It may suit her purpose to agree."
+
+"What! A woman who loves, or who has loved--Robert Orange? A few things
+in human nature are still impossible."
+
+Prince d'Alchingen shrugged his shoulders, and continued--
+
+"Parflete has a good back-stairs knowledge of Alberian politics. We
+never deny this, but we always add that he was dismissed, in disgrace,
+from the Imperial Household."
+
+"Is there much use in denying the fact that he married the Archduke's
+daughter?"
+
+"We meet the case by saying that the Archduke in his youth may not have
+been exempt from manly follies. And Duboc was irresistible--she drove
+one mad!"
+
+"Then why all this fuss?"
+
+"To avoid more fuss--on a large scale."
+
+"But I have always heard that Mrs. Parflete has no intention of giving
+trouble. They say she is an angel."
+
+"You will find that she would far rather be an Archduchess! Orange may
+discover that his Beatrice is nearly related to Rahab!"
+
+"Oh, I cannot think you are right."
+
+"Then you should hear Zeuill and General Prim on the subject. The
+Marquis of Castrillon is in London. Our friend Parflete will soon be
+labouring with copious materials for a divorce."
+
+"How can you assume such horrors?" said Sara.
+
+"The imagination," said His Excellency, "is always more struck by
+likelihoods than the reason convinced by the examination of facts! My
+dear friend, let us survey the position. Orange does not seem to have
+the most distant idea of making Mrs. Parflete his--his _belle amie_.
+Well and good. But ought he, at his age, so handsome, so brilliant, so
+much a man, to renounce all other women for the sake of a little
+adventuress? Can nothing be done? If he could have some convincing proof
+of her treachery, would he not turn to others more beautiful, more
+worthy----"
+
+"To Lady Fitz Rewes," said Sara quickly.
+
+"If you like," replied the Prince, in his gentlest voice.
+
+For a second or two each of them looked away. Sara glanced toward her
+canaries in their cage. Prince d'Alchingen leant forward to inhale the
+perfume of some violets in a vase near him.
+
+"Delicious!" he murmured, "delicious!"
+
+"Mr. Disraeli," said Sara, still gazing at the birds, "has always wished
+for the marriage with Lady Fitz Rewes. Yet what can we do? I cannot see
+the end of it."
+
+"The heroic are plotted against by evil spirits, comforted by good ones,
+but in no way constrained," observed the Ambassador; "let us then
+support Mr. Orange, and wait for his own decision. I doubt whether we
+could drive him to Lady Fitz Rewes."
+
+"To whom else?" asked Sara, fastening some flowers in her belt. They
+were white camellias sent that morning from the infatuated, still
+hopeful Duke of Marshire. "To whom else--if not Pensee?"
+
+"I dare not answer such questions yet. Have patience and you shall see
+what you shall see. Much will hinge on the events of the next few days."
+
+"I will not believe," she insisted, "that Robert Orange has been
+deceived by that woman."
+
+"You may change your opinion. Come to Hadley Lodge next Saturday--I ask
+no more."
+
+"Really, sir," said Sara, with a mocking smile, "you frighten me. Am I
+at last to fly through an intrigue on the wings of a conspiracy?"
+
+The Prince smiled also, but he saw that the lady had risen to the
+occasion and would not prove false to her Asiatic blood.
+
+"Mrs. Parflete and Castrillon are cut out for each other," said he, "but
+Orange has no business in that _galere_. He is reserved for a greater
+fate."
+
+"What do you mean?" said Sara.
+
+"All now depends on you."
+
+"On me?"
+
+"Plainly. Reckage wishes Orange to get out of his way and become a
+Religious. Can this be permitted?"
+
+"It would be outrageous. It would be a crime."
+
+"Ah, worse than that. It might prove a success. We don't want any more
+strong men in the Church just now."
+
+Sara agreed. She, too, was opposed to the Church. And she was glad of
+the excuse this thought offered for the pains she would take to save
+Orange from the Vatican grasp.
+
+"Then we are allies," said His Excellency. "You will help me."
+
+"Gladly, and what is more, as a duty. But how?"
+
+"Keep the two men apart, and treat both of them--both--with kindness."
+
+His Excellency then rose, kissed her hands once more, and took his
+departure. Sara, when the door was closed, paced the floor with swift
+and desperate steps, as though she were encircled by thoughts which,
+linked together, danced round her way so that whether she retreated or
+advanced, swayed to the right or to the left, they held her fast.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+Lord Garrow, under his daughter's command, had issued invitations for a
+dinner-party that same evening to a few friends, who, it was hoped,
+would support the Meeting which Reckage was endeavouring to organise as
+a protest against Dr. Temple's nomination. The guests included Reckage
+himself, Orange, Charles Aumerle, the Dowager Countess of Larch, Hartley
+Penborough, Lady Augusta Hammit, and the Bishop of Calbury's
+chaplain,--the Rev. Edwin Pole-Knox.
+
+Sara, arrayed in white satin and opals, sat at the piano playing the
+_Faust_ of Berlioz, and wondering whether she had really arranged her
+table to perfection, when the footman brought the following note--dashed
+off in pencil--from Lord Reckage:--
+
+                                ALMOUTH HOUSE.
+
+     An extraordinary thing has happened. Agnes has run away with David
+     Rennes. She seems quite broken and her letter is too touching, too
+     sacred to show. As for him, it is difficult to say what he could
+     give, or what I would accept, as an excuse. She, however, has my
+     full forgiveness, and perhaps good may come of so much sorrow and
+     duplicity. I must see you after the others have gone to-night. My
+     plan is to leave early--probably with Orange and Aumerle, but I
+     will return later. I need your counsel. B.
+
+Sara, who was always in league with audacity, clapped her hands at the
+tidings of Miss Carillon's bold move. She was not surprised, for, as we
+have seen, she had read the girl's character truly, and warned Orange
+that some event of the kind would happen. But the pleasure she took in
+this confirmation of her own prophetic gifts was alloyed by the fear
+that Reckage, now at liberty, would prove a masterful, jealous, and
+embarrassing lover. Nor were her forebodings on this score lessened when
+he arrived, evidently in a strange mood, a quarter of an hour before the
+appointed time. His eyes travelled over her face with a consuming
+scrutiny to which she was unaccustomed and for which she found herself
+unprepared. For a moment she experienced the disadvantages of a guilty
+conscience, and although she had, so far, merely considered various
+plans for using his devotion without peril to her own independence, she
+felt that the moment for deliberation was past, that the duel between
+them had begun.
+
+"You have my note," he said, "and I would rather not talk about Agnes
+to-night. On that point I am in a stupor. I can't realise the disaster
+at all. I might seem unfeeling, whereas I am insensible, or unconscious,
+or mentally chloroformed--anything you like to call it."
+
+"I can see that you have received a great blow," answered Sara, looking
+down.
+
+"I suppose so. And at present I am stunned. Wait a week, and I may be
+able to grasp the case--I won't say calmly, for I couldn't be calmer
+than I am at this very moment. But I will say, with understanding, with
+justice. Give me no credit yet for either. To be frank, I don't
+recognise myself in this crisis. As a rule, I have an impulse--more or
+less violent--to some extreme measure.... I saw d'Alchingen this
+afternoon," he added, abruptly.
+
+He did not add that the Prince had given several striking reasons for
+the Lady Sara's interest in Robert Orange. His Excellency, in so acting,
+may not have been aware that he was pouring such confidences into the
+ear of a jealous man, but he wished to divert gossip from himself, and
+he was becoming afraid lest his intimacy with the brilliant, dangerous
+girl might give rise to criticism. "She talks and writes incessantly
+about Orange," he had said; "what a marriage it would be! I hope it may
+be brought about." This suggestion drove Reckage's thoughts toward a
+fatal survey of the past year. He discovered, as he believed,
+irresistible proofs of Sara's infatuation, and, what was worse, clear
+evidence of Robert's sly encouragement of that weakness. Why else had he
+borne the severance from Mrs. Parflete with such astonishing fortitude?
+How else did he keep up his spirits in the face of a grotesque, if
+unfortunate, adventure? The answer was plain enough. Sara's sympathy
+and the reasonable hopes necessarily attached to so much kindness had
+sustained him through the bitterness of all his trials.
+
+"Have you ever thought," said Reckage, with pretended carelessness,
+"that Orange's serenity just now is somewhat unnatural? Is it _all_
+religion?"
+
+"I believe that neither of _us_ can form any conception of his capacity
+for suffering, or the support he finds in his Belief."
+
+"It points to fanaticism, no doubt. He is a Cardinal _in petto_. The
+Catholics want spirit everywhere, and Orange has got spirit. His
+vocation lies toward the Vatican. His morals are as good as his
+build--which is saying much. D'Alchingen was remarking how
+extraordinarily well set-up he is. He would have done well in the army.
+He cuts an effective figure."
+
+"He is distinguished; would one call him handsome?"
+
+"There's a nobility about him, of course. I am wondering whether he is
+really so clever as many make out. He is learned and thoughtful; he has
+plenty of pluck and he's the best fellow in the world. But----"
+
+"I wish I knew him better," sighed the young lady; "I liked him and
+believed in him on the strength of your recommendation. That was an
+immense prejudice in his favour."
+
+She looked up with a sweet and trustful smile which would have satisfied
+a harder adversary than Reckage. He was not so hard, however, as he was
+egoistic, and it was not a question of softening his heart. Sara had the
+far more difficult task of soothing his tortured vanity.
+
+"I don't know," he said, losing caution, "that I want you to take him up
+quite so strongly! No one could call him a coxcomb, yet he, not aware of
+the real cause of your interest, might be over-flattered. He might,
+eventually, begin to hope----"
+
+"What?" she asked, with burning cheeks.
+
+"All sorts of things. He's a man, and you are beautiful. And I have
+heard him say a thousand times that so-called Platonics are possible for
+one of the two, but never for both. Doesn't this explain the many cases
+of unrequited love? You are vexed, I can see it. But I am not thinking
+of you. I am thinking of Robert."
+
+"He is not so sentimental as you imagine."
+
+"Isn't he? This affair with Mrs. Parflete was pure sentimentality from
+beginning to end--a poet's love. He would have another feeling for
+you--something much stronger. You are so human, Sara. I would far sooner
+kill you than write poetry to you. You are life--not literature. That
+little thing with shining hair and a porcelain face is for dreams. Of
+course, he will always love her--after a fashion. He might even compare
+you with her and find her your superior in every way--except as a
+woman. We may be at moments poets, at moments saints, but the greater
+part of the time, a man is a man. And you are no friend for a man.
+Pensee Fitz Rewes might answer well enough; she has had sorrow, she has
+two children, she has a gentle, maternal air. But you----"
+
+He threw back his head and laughed without mirth.
+
+"You!" he repeated. "My God!"
+
+"You are talking very foolishly, Beauclerk. Perhaps it is your odd way
+of making yourself agreeable. It doesn't please me a bit to be told that
+I am a siren. My mind is full of the Bond of Association and your
+Meeting at St. James's Hall. How shamefully Lord Cavernake has behaved,
+but dear Lord Gretingham has come out well. What a miserable set we have
+in the Lords just now!"
+
+She was making these remarks as the clock struck the hour, and her
+father entered the room.
+
+"Beauclerk came early, dear papa," said she, "because he had something
+to tell us. His engagement is broken off."
+
+Lord Garrow looked the grief appropriate to the news, and disguised, as
+well as he could, his dismay at its probable development. He murmured,
+"Tut! tut!" a number of times, held up his hands, and nodded his head
+from side to side.
+
+"I wish nothing said against poor Agnes," observed Reckage; "her
+mistakes are those of a generous, impetuous girl. Don't judge her
+hastily. All, I feel certain, has happened for the best."
+
+"Tut! tut!" repeated his lordship.
+
+"I am devoted to dear Agnes," said Sara, "but I never, never thought
+that she was the wife for Beauclerk."
+
+Then she stepped forward to greet Lady Augusta Hammit, who was at that
+moment announced. Lady Augusta was a tall woman about thirty-five years
+of age, with a handsome, sallow face, a superb neck, beautiful arms,
+hair the colour of ashes, pale lips, and large, gleaming white teeth.
+Unmarried, aristocratic, ordinarily well-off, and exceptionally pious
+according to her lights, she was a prominent figure in all work
+connected with the Moderate Party in the Church of England. In her
+opinion, foreigners might be permitted the idolatries of Rome; as for
+the English, Wesley was a lunatic; Pusey, a weak good creature; Newman
+was a traitor; Manning, a mistake. The one vital force on whom she
+depended for her spiritual illumination and her life's security was the
+Rev. Edwin Pole-Knox. "Pole-Knox," she said, "will save us yet." This
+good and industrious young man, a few years her junior, had been
+chaplain--mainly through Lady Augusta's devoted exertions--to three
+bishops. He did every credit to his patroness, but hints were already in
+the air on the subject of ingratitude. Some said he lacked ambition;
+others murmured dark conjectures about his heartlessness. It was left
+to the Lady Augusta's fellow-labourers in the sphere of beneficence to
+blurt out, with odious vulgarity, that he would never marry her in this
+world. She entered the room that evening in her haughtiest manner, for
+Pole-Knox was following close upon her heels, and she wished to justify
+the extreme deference which he showed her so properly in public, and
+perhaps with morbid conscientiousness in _tete-a-tete_.
+
+"I don't know how I shall get through the winter," she observed, in
+reply to Lord Garrow's inquiries about her health. "I am working like a
+pack-horse." Here she caught Pole-Knox's name and bowed mechanically,
+without seeing him, in his direction. The entire afternoon they had been
+looking together over the accounts of a Home for Female Orphans, and
+poor Lady Augusta had been forced to see that whatever fire and
+enthusiasm her _protege_ could display in tracking down the orphans'
+dishonest butcher, his respect where she was concerned verged on
+frigidity.
+
+Lady Larch was the next arrival, and as she was famous for her smile,
+she used it freely, not fatiguing herself by listening to remarks, or
+making them. In her youth she had been called bonnie; she was still
+pleasant to look upon. She talked very little, and perhaps on this
+account her few sayings were treasured, repeated throughout society,
+and much esteemed. "Surely it is a mistake to give men the notion that
+all good women are dull" was one of her classic utterances. Another ran,
+"Those who are happy do not trouble about the woes of the human race."
+Another, "The Dissenters belong essentially to a non-governing class--a
+vulgar class." These will serve to show the scope of her observation and
+the excellence of her intentions. In fact, she was often found dull. She
+was not especially disturbed about the woes of humanity, and her
+maternal grandfather had been a Presbyterian cotton-merchant. She bore
+Pole-Knox away to a far corner and begged to be told all the latest
+details of Miss Carillon's abominable conduct.
+
+"I do not exactly know," said she, "the state of things. The poor dear
+Bishop must be in a dreadful state."
+
+Orange came in with Aumerle and Hartley Penborough. Lady Augusta, who
+was a kind, sincere woman, pressed his hand warmly, and showed with her
+eyes that she appreciated the difficulties of his position. He had aged,
+Sara thought, and he looked as though he suffered from sleeplessness;
+otherwise, in manner and in all ways, he was just as he had always been.
+
+Sara looked at him, and, looking, she read the secret thoughts in his
+mind. Yes, she was to him, no doubt, the undisciplined, passionate girl
+who lived on admiration, excitement, and false romance. He owned her
+beauty; he excused her faults; he liked her. Of all this she was
+certain. Reckage's warning had encouraged her to believe that Orange's
+self-control was a hard achievement--by no means any matter of a
+disposition naturally cold. If it were merely to be a struggle of wills,
+her will would prove the stronger. She meant to have her way this time.
+Wasn't it the critical moment of his life? Every instinct had been
+roused--ambition, the love of adventure, the love of a woman. For a
+short while the means had been given him, humanly speaking, of
+gratifying these great passions. And then, at a stroke, he was once more
+poor and dependent, once more in a ridiculous position, and the woman he
+loved was further from his reach than ever. He still had the privilege
+of fighting and breaking his heart in the market-place. He could still
+enjoy some kind of a career. Yet the long, embittering struggle with
+poverty and disappointed affection could but appear to him now desolate
+indeed, barely worth the difficult prizes of success. Lady Sara was
+young, and she made the mistake, eternally peculiar to her sex, of
+placing love first, rather than last, among the forces in a strong
+nature. No powerful being ever yet either stood by the glory, or fell by
+the disasters, of a love-affair alone, uncomplicated by other issues. It
+does its work: it must touch, in many ways, the whole character; but it
+is, in the essence of things, a cause--not an effect. To Sara there was
+one only consuming interest in life--love. All her talents were directed
+to the gaining, understanding, and keeping of this wonderful human
+mystery. She wanted wild scenes and ungovernable emotions: she was
+beautiful enough to figure in such situations, and fascinating enough to
+indulge in such crises without offence to the artistic proprieties. But
+she had resolved that the hero of her existence must, at least, look his
+part. No one denied that Orange had a remarkable personality. Every one
+admitted that he was clever. These were the sternest estimates of his
+claim to social recognition. But she knew him to be a de Hausee. She
+thought him superbly handsome. She had Disraeli's opinion that he was a
+genius. Here was a case where love would not have to be blind. Love, in
+this case, could defy the scornful and the proud. At last she could say,
+"My fate!" and call the whole world to witness her surrender. "Whether
+he loves me, or whether he hates me," she thought, "I have chosen him."
+Sinaetha, weaving spells by the moon, was not more determined or more
+irretrievably in love than Sara. The danger of such wild moods is as
+attractive to the very young as it is terrifying to the more mature.
+Perfectly conscious of her beauty, she felt able to defy, sue, and
+conquer at the same moment. Orange had never seen her to such brilliant
+advantage. The instant he entered the room and met her eyes, which shone
+with a most touching kind of timidity and a most flattering joy, he had
+to realise the need of strict discipline where constancy is a rule of
+existence. Sara's laugh, movements, way of talking, played a good deal
+on the heart, but even more upon the senses. Brigit's lovely face gained
+intensity only under the influence of sorrow. Then it became human. At
+other times it was merely exquisite. Now Sara's countenance had all the
+changing qualities of nature itself. She had, too, the instinctive arts
+of sympathy which are so much rarer than the actual gift. Far enough was
+Sara from the triumph which she was imagining; far enough was Orange
+from the least disloyalty; but he was fully alive to the danger of
+regarding her as a woman to be fought against. To fight in such cases is
+to admit fear of conquest.
+
+"Those opals are beautiful," said he, presently.
+
+"I am glad you approve of--the opals."
+
+"But you put them to a disadvantage."
+
+"O! is that a compliment? The first you have ever paid me."
+
+"Do you care about them?"
+
+"From you, yes. I was reading in Saint-Simon's Memoirs yesterday that
+your ancestor--Charles de Hausee--was the first swordsman, the bravest
+soldier, the hardest rider, and the best judge of women in France. But
+let us be serious. Lady Larch is wearing her brightest smile!"
+
+"Must we be very earnest this evening?"
+
+"I am afraid so. You see, I have secured Pole-Knox. He has never been
+permitted to dine here before."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I once told Lady Augusta that he was a man for the shortest
+part of the afternoon--not for evenings, at all. She couldn't forgive
+this."
+
+"Does she forgive it now?"
+
+"Yes. She has reached the stage when one may criticise him."
+
+"That means a complete cure, I suppose."
+
+"Far from it--resignation to the worst that can be said of his
+character. There is no cure possible then."
+
+"Have you had any conversation with Reckage?" he asked.
+
+Sara coloured and put her fingers to her lips.
+
+"Hush!" said she. "There's a deceptive quiet about him which puzzles me.
+But I don't think he is sorry to be rid of Agnes. A regiment of
+relatives drove him into the engagement. Now it has come to an end--let
+us thank God!"
+
+"Your own conscience is easy, I take it?"
+
+"You have no right to ask such a question--none at all."
+
+"Some men, you know, can be laughed out of their loves," he continued.
+
+"Timorous men--yes! Is Reckage timorous?"
+
+"You turned that most adroitly."
+
+"Thank you. Please sit between Lady Augusta and Aumerle at dinner."
+
+The dinner passed most agreeably. As little as possible was said about
+the Meeting; each talked to his or her neighbour, and although the
+separate dialogues may have been profound, the general effect produced
+was one of restful flippancy. Pole-Knox remarked over his fish that
+England had little to fear--unless through the corruption of her
+religion, whereupon Penborough declared that religion in the country was
+a School, not a Church. To this Lady Augusta rejoined that Rome's
+strength depended merely on Canterbury's weakness.
+
+"Forcing a change is a very ticklish business," said Aumerle, studying
+the menu, and regretting that his digestion was not all it had been.
+
+Lord Garrow deplored the fact that Mr. Gladstone had embarked on a very
+vulgar and very false policy.
+
+"But its vulgarity," he sighed, "gives it a very easy reception."
+
+"He expects everything except docility," said Penborough; "if the
+Opposition employ that means, they will embarrass all his calculations."
+
+Reckage, meanwhile, was confiding to Sara--
+
+"I turned the horse round, rammed my spurs in, and put him at the rails
+again!"
+
+One statement, made by Penborough, caused a flutter.
+
+"If Catherine of Arragon had been immoral and Mary Stuart virtuous, the
+whole course of European History would have been different. The
+Reformation, for instance, would have found no favour in England."
+
+"That's _very_ advanced," murmured Lady Larch.
+
+Sara, at dessert, tried to encourage a debate on the egoism of the
+Saints compared with the egoism of Montaigne.
+
+"They were selfishly bent on pain and renunciation, he was selfishly
+bent on pleasure and indulgence. Isn't that the one difference between
+them, Mr. Orange?"
+
+Orange refused to be drawn, but he promised to lend her the _Acta
+Sanctorum_ of the Bollandists in sixty volumes in folio.
+
+"After you have read them," said he, "I will tell you my ideas about
+Montaigne."
+
+Many other remarks were probably more amusing; these, however, were the
+most characteristic.
+
+When dinner was ended, Sara and the two ladies withdrew to the
+drawing-room, where they discussed with the utmost vehemence Orange's
+illegal marriage and Reckage's broken engagement.
+
+The sum and substance of their investigations were as follows:--
+
+Lady Larch wondered what the world was coming to.
+
+Lady Augusta declared that no woman yet ever fathomed the heart of man.
+
+Lady Sara maintained that it was a very good thing for both young men to
+have had such reverses before they finally settled down.
+
+At this Lady Augusta forgot to sigh, and Lady Larch lost control of her
+smile.
+
+"How," exclaimed Augusta, "can they forget so soon? Can any settling
+down be in contemplation? Are no deep, sacred feelings left?"
+
+Emmeline Larch, who was a widow, said she would never be hard on any one
+who tried to recover, for the sake of others, from a shattering
+bereavement.
+
+"Dear Lady Larch!" exclaimed Sara.
+
+The three women formed a picturesque group round the fireplace as the
+men entered. But the card-tables were already placed, and Sara lost no
+time in arranging a quartette for whist. Penborough had to leave for the
+_Times_ office. Pole-Knox had to hurry back to Fulham. The young lady,
+who was known to detest all games, was thus able to choose Robert for
+her partner in a short conversation.
+
+"Forgive me," said she, "but--have you anything to tell me about Mrs.
+Parflete?"
+
+"Yes; she is now with Pensee."
+
+"May I call upon her? May I know her? Would she see me?"
+
+"With pleasure, I am sure."
+
+"And you?" she asked.
+
+"I don't see her," he said quietly; "I don't hear from her. I don't
+write to her. And--I don't talk about her. But I should like you to know
+her. She needs true friends--who understand."
+
+"Have you been to Prince d'Alchingen's, or has he approached you in any
+way?"
+
+"I am to dine with him to-morrow."
+
+"Has he said anything to you about the Marquis of Castrillon?"
+
+"Not a word," replied Robert, in surprise: "why should he?"
+
+"I believe there is mischief in the air. Be careful, won't you? Reckage
+is watching us. I think he would like some music. He is so _triste_ this
+evening."
+
+She moved away, and played delightfully on the guitar until the guests
+rose to leave. Then she found an opportunity to tell Lord Reckage not to
+come back again. She was tired, she said, and her papa would think it
+too odd.
+
+"Then to-morrow morning," said he.
+
+She named an hour.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+Robert, on leaving the house, drove to Grosvenor Gate, where he had an
+appointment with Disraeli. The ex-Minister was sitting, in a flowered
+dressing-gown, by the library fire. The blinds were not drawn, for the
+night was bright and starry; the moonlight streamed into the room,
+mingling strangely with the soft glow of the green-shaded lamp. There
+was a large bundle of documents on the table by Disraeli's side, and a
+pile of Continental newspapers on the floor. One of the latter he was
+reading, and, by the slight curl of his mouth and the gleam in his fine
+eyes, Orange saw that he was working out, to his amusement, some train
+of thought which gave full jurisdiction to his knowledge of humanity.
+
+"Bismarck," said he, "is the first German statesman who has not regarded
+newspapers as inconvenient lumber. He wishes the Press to advance his
+great ideas by assuming the place of the Universities in training public
+opinion, and the place of the Church in controlling it. He might as well
+strive to make the horse into the lion, the mule into the unicorn, a
+parrot into the soaring eagle! Any man who is written up into a place
+can be written down out of it. Our friend will learn this too
+late--probably about the time that we, in England, are adopting, with
+enthusiasm, his present error. Ah, my dear Orange, watch the sky and you
+will learn the hearts of men. Observe the changing light, the clouds
+driven by the wind, the glimpses of pure blue, the sudden blackness, the
+startling brilliancy, and then--the monotonous grey. They seem too hard
+for me, at times. The clash between ideas and interests makes our
+inheritance a grim battlefield, and there are moments of mortification
+when one may feel tempted to sell it--not for a mess of pottage, but for
+the _promise_ of a mess of pottage. Tempted, I said. There is always a
+course left, if you have the courage to face it. It may avail you; I
+cannot insure you even that. But if I were in your place, I would try."
+
+"I could never do better, sir, than to follow your advice or your
+example."
+
+"Never betray, then, the least depression at disappointments or
+reverses, but seize the few joyful occasions of life for the indulgence
+of any accumulated melancholy and bitterness. By this simple rule you
+will escape the charge urged against all the ambitious, who are usually
+as intoxicated by success as they are cowardly in adversity. It delights
+me to see you in high spirits. Tell me the news, but first give me your
+opinion of this little paragraph which will appear in to-morrow's
+_Times_."
+
+He took from his pocket-book a slip of paper on which was written the
+following in Mrs. Disraeli's hand:--
+
+     Mr. Orange, the new Member for Norbet Royal, is the son of a French
+     nobleman of very ancient lineage. It was a condition of his
+     adoption by the late Admiral Bertin that his own name should be
+     dropped, and he has accordingly always borne that of the Orange
+     family. The circumstances of his birth were communicated to the
+     Queen before his naturalisation as a British subject, and his
+     presentation, by Mr. Disraeli, at Court.
+
+"Was that necessary?" asked Robert.
+
+"A public man must speak out, and this expedient occurred to me as a
+slight pull in your favour. The two things in life which are really
+gratuitous are the grace of God and one's pedigree! The rest depends
+upon ourselves. Now you can't think how much I am interested in every
+little detail of your mental experiences. I believe you will be a Jesuit
+yet. I have never concealed my respect for the Jesuits. When Spain and
+France expelled the Society of Jesus, they persecuted their truest
+allies. A terrible price, too, they paid for that crime. You see, then,
+that I understand staunch Catholics. If I could rouse an Imperial
+feeling in England which would at all correspond with the feeling of
+Catholics for their Church! Sometimes I dream this may be possible.
+Pope, the satirist, remained, in spite of his wit, a loyal son of the
+Faith, while many dull worthies who shuddered at his epigrams were
+recanting daily either from fear or for some worldly advantage. In the
+same way, Robert, men who hate my novels because they contain a few
+truths, would sell England, if they could, to-morrow. I mentioned the
+fact about Pope to a gentleman who complains that you are by no means
+typical of your co-religionists in this country."
+
+"The very expression 'typical Catholic' is a paradox," replied Robert,
+who always accepted adverse criticism with good humour; "there is one
+Spirit, but it has many manifestations. From the apostles, saints and
+martyrs to the rank and file, we have to recognise the individuality of
+each soul. In fact, sir, is not that the very essence of the Church's
+teaching?"
+
+"So I have always understood. And we have not heard the last of the 'law
+of liberty'; although I observe to my chagrin that many modern Papists
+depart from those great principles which they should take every
+opportunity of claiming as their own. In the freezing snows of the
+world's solitude, a prudent man does not try to make himself happy, but
+he is less than a man if he allows others to make him wretched. The
+flesh has its discomfort: the spirit, however, has its illimitable
+conjectures. When all else fails me, I may still find solace in
+conjectures. Does it strike you that they may have, nevertheless, a
+danger also?"
+
+"This is your own way of asking me whether I know my own mind! If you
+mean, Have I put all sentiment resolutely from my thoughts, Yes. If you
+mean, Have I determined to continue in my present line till I have a
+call to some other vocation, Yes."
+
+His heart was troubled, full of vague combinations. The events of the
+day had seemed mechanical, foolish--a course of sorrowful attempting and
+self-reproach.
+
+"Both of your affirmatives are satisfactory," said Disraeli; "you are, I
+see, what the Americans call a 'whole-hog man.' Now let us consider ways
+and means. I saw Prince d'Alchingen this afternoon. He announces the
+increased distress and reformation of Parflete. We must therefore
+prepare for further villainy. Mrs. Parflete has confided to d'Alchingen
+her desire to go on the stage. He encourages this ambition, and she has
+accepted his invitation to Hadley Lodge, where she will recite in his
+private _salle de comedie_."
+
+Robert, though much taken by surprise, betrayed no sign of it.
+
+"You cannot tell what she will do--until she does it," he answered. "She
+may have great talents."
+
+"Well, one forgets that when Voltaire said, '_Il faut cultiver notre
+jardin_,' he was quoting, with sardonic irony, Saint Teresa! You cannot
+be pleased at Mrs. Parflete's decision. The theatre in England is a
+sport--not an art. In France it is an art, but," he added drily, "it
+embraces more than one profession."
+
+"Whether a woman be a saint, a queen, or an actress--once before the
+public--she is exposed to severe discipline. And I don't fear for this
+one. She will take her revenge on life by laughing at it."
+
+"I daresay. D'Alchingen calls her _un peu etourdi_. She has the
+audacity--she may have the fortune of despair. Confess--you have run a
+little wild about her."
+
+"I ran off the track, if you like," said Orange, smiling.
+
+"Women fascinate the hearts, but they do not affect the destinies of
+determined men," returned Disraeli. "If you have not won anything by
+this affair, it would be hard to say what winning is. There is but one
+feeling and one opinion about the really courageous stand you have
+made."
+
+"I must gain confidence all the same in my own ability to keep my
+resolves when they are clear to me. I once prided myself in that ability
+as the one gem in my character."
+
+"You may laugh at yourself as much as you please. Beauty is as well
+worth admiring as anything on earth, and the world is better lost for
+love, than love for the world. At least, let us say so. I met Reckage at
+the Travellers' yesterday, and had some talk with him about his
+Association. I think it far better that Aumerle should not resign, as he
+could, and probably would, be very mischievous as a freelance. Reckage
+is all for shaking him off, but these things, in any circumstances,
+should never be forced."
+
+"I advised Reckage myself to sound each member of the Committee
+privately. Then, at the general meeting, he could form some just
+estimate of the difficulties in his way, and in their way."
+
+"Reckage, though a mean fellow, might give you an opportunity to work a
+strong Sub-Committee," suggested Disraeli. "One cannot calculate on the
+course of a man so variable and impulsive. He proposes to get rid of
+Aumerle, and make concessions to his set. It is an unhappy policy, and
+always unhappily applied, to imagine that men can be reconciled by
+partial concessions. I attribute much of Reckage's behaviour to his fear
+of society. Society itself, however, does not practise any of the
+virtues which it demands from the individual. It ridicules the highest
+motives, and degrades the most heroic achievements. It is fed with
+emotions and spectacles: it cries, laughs, and condemns without
+knowledge and without enthusiasm. Pitiable indeed is the politician who
+makes society his moral barometer."
+
+"I have urged him to be firm. Christianity was never yet at peace with
+its age. There is no other Faith whose first teacher was persecuted and
+crucified. Viewed solely as a point of administration, it is disastrous
+to cut religious thought according to the fashionable pattern of the
+hour. This has been the constant weakness of English Churchmen. They try
+to match eternity with the times."
+
+"My opinion is that Reckage must act with considerable caution, or he
+will find himself repudiated by every party. The English like a fellow
+to stand by his guns. I come now to your own business. Will you do me a
+favour? Before you reply let me define it. I have been asked to send
+some good speaker to Hanborough. The occasion is the opening of a Free
+Library. Remarks--of a laudatory nature--on the princely munificence of
+Hanborough's mayor, Hanborough's corporation, Hanborough's leading
+citizens, a eulogy of their public glories and private virtues--with a
+little thrown in about Shakespeare, Scott, and the Lord-Lieutenant of
+the county--would be adequately appreciated. The attendance will be
+large: the nobility, gentry, and clergy of the neighbourhood will flower
+about you on the platform; a banquet will follow in the evening, and in
+the morning blushing girls will hand you bouquets at the railway
+station. Can you refuse?"
+
+"Not easily, I admit," said Robert, laughing; "but Reckage is rather low
+and unhappy just now about his broken engagement. Wouldn't such an
+adventure as this take him out of himself?"
+
+"This is not an adventure--this is an opportunity," said Disraeli; "it
+would be nursed into a stepping-stone. I know fifty men who are worrying
+themselves to death to get it."
+
+"You need not tell me that," replied Robert, with gratitude. "It would
+be a great thing for me. But Reckage is always at his best in functions
+of the kind. Hanborough might make much of him, and then his
+Association would feel flattered by reflected honours."
+
+"You invariably set your face against your own advantages, and I am
+afraid I shall not live to see you where you ought to be. However,
+Reckage shall have the invitation. Now, good-night. By the by, have you
+heard that Castrillon is now in the marriage-market? His mistress has
+given her consent, and the Prince has promised his blessing. Could
+things look more auspicious? Good-night."
+
+For the second time that evening Castrillon's name fell with a warning
+note on Robert's ear. Disraeli, he knew, would not have mentioned him
+out of sheer idleness. There was some danger threatening in that
+quarter, and it was impossible to dissociate this from Brigit. The
+Marquis of Castrillon had been with her in Madrid, and also at Baron
+Zeuill's palace after the escape from Loadilla.
+
+"Where is Castrillon now?" asked Robert.
+
+"I understand he is in London," answered Disraeli; "at Claridge's Hotel.
+D'Alchingen and he are on excellent terms."
+
+"Good!" said Robert, tightening his lips. "You will find he has been
+invited to Hadley."
+
+"I haven't a doubt of it."
+
+"Then I must contrive to see him first."
+
+Early the following morning Orange presented himself at the house of an
+old, very devout priest of his acquaintance.
+
+"Father," said he, "this afternoon or to-morrow I may be in
+circumstances of danger."
+
+"What danger is this?" asked the priest.
+
+"There is a man whom I may be compelled, in defence of my honour, to
+challenge to a duel."
+
+"To approach the Sacrament in such a frame of mind," said the old man,
+"is not to prepare yourself for danger. For to come to confession with a
+determination of taking vengeance is to put an obstacle to the grace of
+the Sacrament. You must preserve your honour by some other way. Indeed,
+the honour you think to preserve by this is not real honour, but merely
+the estimation of bad men founded on bad principles."
+
+"I know," said Orange, hotly; "it is impossible, however, to withdraw
+now."
+
+"If you should be beaten," returned the other, who had been in the army
+himself as a youth, and could comprehend the worldly view of the
+situation, "if you should be beaten, what becomes of the honour you wish
+to defend? And if you should be killed in that state of soul in which
+you go to the duel, you will go straight to hell and everlasting shame."
+
+"I implore you, Father, to pray for me, and to hear my confession, if
+you possibly can."
+
+"Certainly, I cannot hear you," said the priest. "But this is what I
+will do. Wear this _Agnus Dei_, and perhaps God will have mercy on you
+for the sake of this, and afford you time for penance. Understand,
+however, I do not give it to you in order to encourage you in your bad
+purpose, but that you may wear it with all reverence and respect, and
+perhaps be moved to obedience."
+
+Robert thanked him, accepting the gift in a right spirit. His self-will,
+however, was aroused. He had determined to fight Castrillon, and fight
+he would.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+Sara awoke that same morning with a foreboding heart. She wrote a letter
+to Reckage postponing his call, and another to Pensee Fitz Rewes, asking
+her to be at home that afternoon. At half-past two the young lady drove
+up, in her brougham, to the widow's door in Curzon Street. The blinds
+were down, and the house gave every indication that its owner was not in
+London. Sara, however, was admitted, and Pensee received her in a little
+room, hung with lilac chintz and full of porcelain, at the back of the
+house. Pensee, wearing a loose blue robe, seemed over-excited and
+sad--with that sadness which seems to fall upon the soul as snow upon
+water. She was reclining on the sofa, reading a worn copy of Law's
+_Serious Call_ which had belonged to the late Viscount, and bore many of
+his pencil-marks. This in itself was to Sara a sign of some unusual
+melancholy in her friend.
+
+"Why," she said, kissing her soft, pale cheek, "why didn't you let me
+know that you had returned? I thought you were still in Paris."
+
+"My dear," said Pensee, sitting up with a sudden movement and
+supporting herself on her two hands. "I am no longer my own mistress. I
+have become a puppet--a marionette: a kind of lady-in-waiting--a person
+to whom women talk when they have nothing to say, and to whom men talk
+when they have nothing to do."
+
+Sara chose a seat and studied the speaker with a new curiosity. She was
+charming; vexation gave humanity to her waxen features, and the flash in
+her eyes suggested hitherto unsuspected fires in her temperament, "She
+has more spirit than I gave her credit for," thought Sara, and she
+added, "Darling!" aloud.
+
+"Darling, indeed!" said Pensee. "I can tell you I am tired of being a
+darling. There are limits.... I have no patience with Brigit, and Robert
+drives me to the conclusion that good men are fools--fools! I suppose he
+told you that I was in town again?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, he won't come and see me himself because _she_ is here."
+
+"That is merely a decision on principle. He longs to come."
+
+"Quite so. But the girl does not deserve him."
+
+Sara showed no astonishment; she maintained her thoughtful air, and
+replied with tranquillity--
+
+"He thinks she is perfect."
+
+"I find no vulgar faults in her, myself, although there seems no foolish
+thing left that she hasn't done. I am sure that every one will think
+her light, worldly, and frivolous. Let me say what I have been through.
+After the first terrible day and night at St. Malo, there was no more
+crying. There was not another tear. We went to Paris. She spent all her
+mornings at Notre Dame, all her afternoons with old Monsieur Lanitaux of
+the Conservatoire, all her evenings at the theatre. She found many of
+her mother's old friends. In the theatrical world I find much loyalty
+toward those actually born in the profession. They treated her as though
+she were a young queen. Lanitaux managed to get her privately before the
+Empress Eugenie. She sang for the Empress: the Empress cried and gave
+her an emerald ring."
+
+"Then she has talent."
+
+"Genius, I believe," said Pensee, solemnly. "This makes her hateful and
+lovable at the same moment. She is determined to be an actress. She
+never speaks of Robert, and she shuts herself up in her room reciting
+Marivaux and Moliere. The d'Alchingens have invited her to Hadley next
+Saturday. They encourage her theatrical ideas. And why? They wish her to
+lose caste. She is an Archduchess, Sara, an Alberian Archduchess. What a
+living argument against unequal marriages!"
+
+"Will she go to Hadley?"
+
+"Yes--wholly against my advice. I don't trust Prince d'Alchingen."
+
+"How I wish I could see her!"
+
+"She is in the library now. I will ask her to come down."
+
+Pensee left the room, and Sara paced the floor till she returned.
+
+"She is coming," said Pensee, "be nice to her--for Robert's sake!"
+
+Sara nodded, and both women watched the door till the handle moved, and
+Mrs. Parflete entered.
+
+She was dressed in violet silk without ornaments or jewels of any
+description. Her face was slightly flushed, and the colour intensified
+the pale gold diadem of her blonde hair. The expression--sweet-tempered,
+yet a little arrogant--of her countenance and its long oval form bore a
+striking resemblance to the early portraits of Marie Antoinette. Her
+under-lip had also a slight outward bend, which seemed an encouragement
+when she smiled, and contemptuous when she frowned. Her figure--though
+too slight even for a girl of seventeen--was extraordinarily graceful,
+and, in spite of her height, she was so well proportioned that she did
+not appear too tall. Youth showed itself, however, in a certain
+childlikeness of demeanour--a mixture of timidity, confidence,
+embarrassment, and, if one looked in her face for any sign of the
+emotions she had experienced, or the scenes in which she had played no
+feeble part, one sought in vain. Gaiety covered the melancholy, almost
+sombre depths in her character. And it was the gaiety of her French
+mother--petulant, reckless, irresistible, giddy, uncertain. As a child,
+dressed up in ribbons and lace, with flowers in her hair, she had been
+the chief amusement and plaything of Madame Duboc--to be held on her
+lap, perched upon the piano, placed on high cushions in the carriage,
+and lifted on the table of the drawing-room, where she entertained a
+brilliant, if dissipated company, by her talk, her little songs, her
+laughter, her mimicry, and her dancing. She rarely danced now, yet all
+the seductive arts of perfect dancing seemed hers by right of birth.
+Each movement, each gesture had a peculiar charm, and her dark blue
+eyes, the more provocative for their lack of passion, were full of a
+half-mocking, half-tender vivacity. Sara, a beautiful young woman
+herself, surveyed this unconscious rival and recognised, with good
+sense, a fatal attractiveness which was stronger than time and far above
+beauty. It was the spell of a spirit and body planned for fascination
+and excelling in this indefinable power. Had she been born to ruin men?
+thought Sara. Had she been given a glamour and certain gifts merely to
+perplex, deceive, and destroy all those who came within the magic of her
+glance? History had its long, terrible catalogue of such women whose
+words are now forgotten, whose portraits leave us cold, yet whose very
+names still agitate the heart and fire the imagination. Was Brigit one
+of these?
+
+She had nothing of the deliberate coquette who, eager to please, keeps
+up an incessant battery of airs and graces. Her enchantments depended
+rather on the fact that she neither asked for admiration nor valued it.
+Free from vanity, and therefore indifferent to criticism, the
+bitternesses which destroy the peace of most women never entered her
+mind. The man she had chosen gave her no cause for jealousy, and, while
+she enjoyed men's society, she had been so accustomed to it from her
+earliest days that she had nothing to fear from the novelty of their
+friendship, or the danger of their compliments. Not prudish, not morbid,
+not envious, not sentimental, and not indolent, she was perhaps
+especially endowed for the tantalising career which the stage offers to
+the ambitious of both sexes. Acting came to her as music comes to the
+true musician. She never considered whether she would become a great
+actress or a rejected one: the art in itself was her delight, and she
+found more happiness in reciting Moliere and Shakespeare alone in her
+own room than she ever received, even at the height of her fame, from
+her triumphs before the world. There was, no doubt, a great craving in
+her nature for innocent pleasures and excitement. She loved gay scenes,
+bright lights, beautiful clothes, lively music, witty conversation. She
+had been born for the brilliant Courts of the eighteenth century when
+life in each class was more highly concentrated than is possible
+now--when love was put to severer tests, hatred permitted a crueller
+play, politics asked a more intricate genius, and art controlled the
+kingdom of the Graces.
+
+The three women as they faced each other presented a remarkable picture.
+Pensee, the eldest, who alone knew the lessons of physical pain, had a
+pathetic grace which made her seem, in comparison with the
+others--radiant with untried health,--some gentle, plaintive spirit from
+a sadder sphere. Her clinging blue robe appeared too heavy for the frail
+body; her fair curls and carefully arranged _chignon_ were too modish
+for the ethereal yet anxious countenance; the massive wedding-ring
+seemed too coarse a bond for the almost transparent hand which trembled
+nervously on the cover of the _Serious Call_. Sara, in black velvet and
+sable, with ostrich plumes and golden beads, with flashing eyes and a
+gipsy's flush, with all the self-command of a woman trained for society,
+living for it and in it, with all the self-assurance of a woman in an
+unassailable position, handsome, rich, flattered, spoiled, domineering,
+and unscrupulous, with all the insolence of an egoism which no human
+force could humiliate and no human antagonist terrify, Sara seemed the
+one who was destined to succeed superbly in the war of life. Mrs.
+Parflete--whose courage, determination, and powers of endurance were
+concealed by a face which might have been made of lovely gauze--seemed
+less a being than a poetical creation: a portrait by Watteau or
+Fragonard stepped from its frame, animated by pure fancy, and moving,
+without sorrow and without labour, through a charmed existence.
+
+She made two steps forward when Sara advanced to meet her, holding out
+both hands and smiling with real kindness at the sight of a delightful
+apparition which looked too fragile to excite such a fierce emotion as
+jealousy.
+
+"I believe we are to meet at Hadley," said Sara. "I hear you are going
+to act."
+
+"Yes," replied Brigit, with a slight note of irony in her musical voice.
+"I am going to act."
+
+"How charming! And what will you play?"
+
+"I play the Marquise in one of Marivaux's comedies."
+
+"And who will play the Marquis?" asked Sara.
+
+"There is no Marquis," answered Brigit, laughing a little. "But," she
+added, "there is a Chevalier and a Comte. One of Prince d'Alchingen's
+attaches will play the Comte. M. de Castrillon will play the part of the
+Chevalier."
+
+"Castrillon!" exclaimed Sara, in amazement.
+
+"The Marquis of Castrillon!" cried Pensee, turning livid; "pray, pray
+put it off till you have heard from Baron Zeuill. Dear Brigit! for my
+sake, for Robert's----"
+
+"It is for your sake and Robert's that I have accepted the invitation to
+Hadley. I wish you would understand. I must show them all that I mean
+what I say."
+
+"But Castrillon is a wicked wretch--a libertine."
+
+"We have already acted together in this very piece at Madrid. Much
+depends on my playing well next Saturday. I am quite sure of his talent,
+and, in such a case, his private morals are not my affair. He is no
+worse than Prince d'Alchingen was, and most of his associates are."
+
+"You can't know what you are saying," answered Pensee. "You will be so
+miserable when you find you have been madly obstinate. It is very hard,
+in a country like England, for a young woman to set herself in
+opposition to certain prejudices."
+
+"Are the Duke and Duchess of Fortinbras respectable?" asked Brigit.
+
+"What a question!" said Pensee; "of course they are most exclusive."
+
+"Then if they are quite willing that their daughter Clementine should
+marry Castrillon, surely he may play the Chevalier to my Marquise."
+
+"I don't think, Pensee," put in Sara, "that Castrillon is exactly
+tabooed. In fact, one meets him everywhere in Paris, and, beyond a
+doubt, the Fortinbrases and the Huxaters and the Kentons made a great
+fuss over him last season. But do you _like_ him?" she said, suddenly
+turning to Brigit.
+
+The question was skilful.
+
+"I don't take him seriously," answered Brigit; "he has the great science
+of _l'excellent ton dans le mauvis ton_. You would say--'he is vulgar in
+the right way.' I feel sure he never deceived women. They may have been
+foolish but they must have been frail before they met him! He can be
+ridiculous in five languages, but he cannot be sincere in one of them.
+As for his wickedness, one must have more than bad intentions; one must
+have the circumstances. I have nothing to fear from M. de Castrillon. He
+knows me perfectly well."
+
+"I am simply wretched about you," said Pensee; "of your future I dare
+not think. I try to be _sympathique_, and your difficulties come very
+home to me because I have had such great sorrows myself. But I have
+little hopes of doing any good while you are so self-willed."
+
+"Dearest," exclaimed Brigit: "trust me!"
+
+"My child, you are 'wiser in your own eyes than seven men that can
+render a reason.' I implore you to abandon this mad scheme; I implore
+you to abandon these wrong--these dangerous ideas of the stage. I know
+how much I am asking, and how little right I have to ask anything, but I
+think you ought to listen to me."
+
+Brigit, with a sparkling glance at Sara, stroked Pensee's cheek, and
+pinched her small ear.
+
+"_Mon cher coeur_," said she, "I do not forget your goodness. And I
+needed it, for I have been so wretched and forsaken. My soul is weighed
+down with troubles, and grief, and anxiety: each day I expect some new
+misfortune: you are the one friend I may keep. But you would not know
+how to imagine the intrigues and falsehoods which surround me on every
+side. _O mon amie_, I must prove to them that I want nothing they can
+give me--that I possess nothing which they can take away."
+
+"I know what she means, Pensee," said Sara; "she has to show d'Alchingen
+that her interests are fixed on art--not politics. And, from her point
+of view, she is right. I must say so, although I don't wish to
+interfere. And so long as she knows M. de Castrillon, it is better taste
+to make her first appearance with him than with some strange actor
+engaged for the occasion. After all, Mario was well known as the
+Marchese di Candia before he adopted the operatic stage as a profession.
+As for gossip, how is anybody's tongue to be stopped?"
+
+"I do not expect that people's tongues should be stopped," rejoined
+Pensee.
+
+"What the world says of me I have learned to disregard very much," said
+Brigit: "if I vex my friends, I must nevertheless follow my vocation. It
+was good enough for my mother. I do not apologise for her existence, nor
+do I offer excuses for my own. She was an actress: I am an actress. She
+succeeded: I may not succeed. But if you fear for my faith and my
+character, it would be quite as easy to lose both in the highest society
+as in the vilest theatres! I foresee mistakes and difficulties. They
+must come. I shan't have a happy life, dearest Pensee: I don't look for
+happiness. Why then do you scold me?"
+
+"I am not scolding," said Lady Fitz Rewes: "I have never blamed you,
+never--in my heart. We shall get on better now that we have brought
+ourselves to speak out. How different it is when one judges for oneself
+or for another! I do believe in having the courage of one's convictions.
+But it was my duty to warn you----"
+
+"This is all I wanted," exclaimed Brigit; "that we should understand
+each other and stand close by each other. I am not on the edge of a
+precipice--I am at the bottom of it already!" Her eyes had grown calm
+from the mere force of sadness. "You mustn't ask me to look back," she
+added: "you mustn't ask me to choose again. A simple, quiet life is out
+of the question now. I have to learn how to forget."
+
+She moved to the door, kissed her hand to Pensee, and bowed prettily to
+Sara.
+
+"I must get back to my work," she said, and so left them. The two women
+turned toward each other.
+
+"There is no hope for Orange," observed Sara drily: "no man would ever
+forget her."
+
+"He needn't forget her, but----"
+
+"Yes, it would have to be sheer, absolute forgetfulness. I like her. I
+like all beautiful things--pictures, statues, bronzes, porcelains, and
+white marble visions! She is a white marble vision. And Orange will love
+her forever and ever and ever. And when she is dead, he will love her
+still more!"
+
+She threw back her head and laughed--till Pensee laughed also. Then they
+wished each other goodbye, and parted.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+When Sara reached home, she was dismayed to hear that Lord Reckage had
+called during her absence and was waiting for her return. The prospect
+of an interview with him seemed so disagreeable that she walked first to
+the library, and sat there alone, for some moments, before she could
+summon the presence of mind which every sense warned her would be
+required for the ordeal. At last, with a pinched heart, she went up the
+great staircase, and found Reckage writing at her own table in the
+drawing-room. He turned quickly, and jumped to his feet at the rustle of
+her dress. He was looking unusually handsome, she thought, very
+animated, very dashing.
+
+"You will forgive these clothes," said he, "but I have ordered Pluto
+round at four o'clock, and I am going for a long ride."
+
+"What a strange idea!" she answered, taking off her gloves. "Where are
+you going?"
+
+"To Hampstead Heath. I need the air and the exercise. I have to compose
+a speech."
+
+"The speech for the Meeting?"
+
+His brow darkened, and he pushed back with his foot a log which was
+falling from the open grate.
+
+"No, not that speech. Another. Disraeli has asked me to go in his stead
+to Hanborough. I don't like to attach over-importance to the invitation,
+but he must mean it as an encouragement. Evidently, he wishes to show
+that Aumerle and the rest are without any shadow of right in their
+attacks. I have been above five years working up this society, and if,
+at the end of that time, I am president only by dint of _family
+interest_, be assured the situation cannot be worth having. When I
+leave, it will go all to pieces."
+
+"But you don't intend to leave, surely?"
+
+"Indeed, I do."
+
+"Have you hinted at resignation?"
+
+"No, I sha'n't hint. Hints belong to the unconsidered patience of fools.
+I won't give them an inkling of my real tactics. Let them lollop along
+in their own wretched fashion to some final imbecility! I have other
+matters to think of, Sara. Doesn't Disraeli's action say, as delicately
+as possible, that I am wasting my time over small men? I have been
+altogether too easy of access. Simplicity and consideration are thrown
+away on the Snookses and the Pawkinses! With these gentry, one must be a
+vulgar, bragging snob, or they think one is not worth knowing."
+
+"But you owe it to yourself and to Orange to hold the Meeting
+to-morrow?" she said, anxiously.
+
+"There is a way out of it," he answered, avoiding her eyes. "We can talk
+of that presently."
+
+"Nothing interests me more."
+
+"That is not true," he said, taking a chair near her; "there are many
+things which must interest both of us much, much more than that stupid
+Meeting."
+
+"I prefer not to speak of them now, Beauclerk."
+
+"I can't go on in this uncertainty. I am beginning to think I am a
+blundering fellow--where women are concerned. When we were together as
+children, I seem to remember, looking back, that I always did the wrong
+thing. And later--when you came out and I fancied myself a man of the
+world, it was the same. I don't know exactly what a girl is at eighteen,
+but I know that a fellow of twenty-five is an ass. He is probably
+well-meaning: he isn't hardened by ambition and he is pretty
+sentimental, as a rule. Yet he doesn't have fixed ideas. One day it
+dawned upon me that I was in love."
+
+"Now don't say that."
+
+"I repeat it. I am far from wishing to pose as a martyr, but whenever
+one is happy, all one's friends think that one is going to make some
+fatal mistake. I suppose no battle can be won without a battle. But life
+has always had a good deal of painfulness to me, and I hate opposition.
+It isn't lack of courage on my part--I can fight an enemy to the death.
+When it comes to quarrelling with relatives or those I care about--well,
+I own I can seldom see good reasons for keeping a stiff neck."
+
+"I am perfectly convinced of your spirit, Beauclerk; every circumstance
+serves to show it. There was never a time when you did the wrong
+thing--in my judgment."
+
+"You are generous, but I dare not believe you there. Much that I did and
+all that I left unsaid must have puzzled you. I wouldn't speak now,
+Sara, if I didn't feel sure that in spite of my faults, my stupidity, my
+want of self-knowledge, you saw that I was destined to love you."
+
+It was impossible to deny this fact. She had been well aware always of
+his affection, and the certainty had given a peculiar emotional value to
+every scene--no matter how commonplace--to every occasion, no matter how
+crowded, to every conversation, no matter how trivial--in which he
+figured or his name transpired. He and poor Marshire were the two men in
+the world who really loved her. Marshire was the more desperate because
+he was less intelligent and had fewer interests; Reckage loved her with
+all the force of a selfish, vain, and spoilt nature. Such a passion she
+knew was not especially noble and certainly not ideal. But it was
+strong, and it made him submissive.
+
+"Sara," he said, "you have got to help me." He put his arm round her
+waist, and as she inclined her face ever so slightly toward his, he
+kissed her cheek.
+
+"How can I help you?" she asked.
+
+"Let us marry."
+
+"I don't wish to marry any one just yet, Beauclerk," she said; "I like
+my liberty. I don't feel that I should make either a good wife, or a
+contented one, as I am now. I want to see more and think more before I
+give up my will to another."
+
+"I would not ask you to give up your will."
+
+"We should be utterly miserable if I didn't."
+
+"Believe me, it is the weak, effeminate creature who wishes to control
+women. Men of character respect women of character. These fellows who
+declare that they will be masters in their own house are masters nowhere
+else. I delight in your spirit. Orange and I have often agreed," he
+added, with a searching look, "that you are the most brilliant girl in
+England."
+
+"Why do you quote Robert?" she said carelessly; "isn't your opinion
+enough for me?"
+
+"Can you pretend that his opinion has no weight with you?"
+
+She laughed, and stroked his arm.
+
+"My dear, why should I pretend anything? To tell the truth, I am
+surprised that Orange has noticed me. I saw Mrs. Parflete to-day. I
+understand his infatuation."
+
+"I have always told you that she was a very pretty woman. But why is it
+that, no matter where we start, we always come back to Orange? I am
+getting sick of him. I dislike being _affiche_, as it were, to some one
+else. This marriage of his pursues me. If I go into a club, if I dine,
+if I ride, if I walk--ten to one if I am not pelted with questions
+about Mrs. Parflete, or Robert's history, or his genius, or his future
+plans. I must drop him."
+
+"Drop him?" she exclaimed.
+
+"Yes. It doesn't help me to appear so friendly with a Roman. I know he
+is very fine, but I have to consider my own position. They all say that
+it would be madness to take the chair now at his meeting."
+
+"But it was _your_ meeting, Beauclerk."
+
+"In the first place, perhaps. I thought, too, it might be a good,
+independent move. Disraeli's invitation to Hanborough puts another
+complexion on affairs. It is the first formal recognition that he, as
+Leader, has ever given me. It is a reminder of my responsibilities. He
+is fond of Orange, I know, and he wouldn't hurt his feelings, or seem to
+put a spoke in his wheel, for all the world. But Dizzy is subtle. He
+likes to test one's _savoir vivre_."
+
+"Shall you tell Orange that you intend to throw him over?"
+
+"Not yet."
+
+"Oh, you ought!"
+
+"Why? I want the meeting to take place. It will be useful in its way--it
+may show us how public opinion is going."
+
+Sara hid her contempt by rising from her chair and removing her hat.
+Reckage watched the play of her arms as she stood before the mirror, and
+he did not see, as she could, the reflection of his face--sensual,
+calculating, and, stormed as it was for the moment by the meanest
+feelings of self-interest, repellent.
+
+"How I hate him!" she thought; "how I despise him!"
+
+Then she turned round, smiling--
+
+"Hats make my head ache! So you think the meeting will be useful?"
+
+"Emphatically. It did occur to me that I might drop a line to Robert--in
+fact, I was writing to him when you came in. Here's the letter, as you
+see, signed and sealed."
+
+"Do send it."
+
+"No," he answered, putting it back into his pocket; "one could only get
+him on the platform just now by making him believe that such an action
+would, in some way, help me. You don't know Robert."
+
+"I daresay not, but I know that much."
+
+"This being the case, why upset him at the eleventh hour?"
+
+She made no reply, and before Reckage could speak again, the servant
+announced the arrival of his horse.
+
+"I intend to ride like the devil, Sara," he said; "and I wish you could
+come with me. What rides we used to have--long ago! You were a larky
+little thing in those days, darling!"
+
+He bent down and kissed her lips.
+
+"You shall marry me--or no one," said he; "but you are cold: you are not
+very nice to me. I suppose it's your way. You wouldn't be yourself if
+you were like other women. You are not a woman, you're a witch. Must I
+go now?"
+
+Sara had opened the door.
+
+"Yes, you know how Pluto hates to wait."
+
+"That animal will be the death of me yet. Will you stand on the balcony
+and watch me till I am out of sight? Have pretty manners--for once."
+
+"Very well."
+
+She went on to the balcony, watched him mount, and ride away. He turned
+several times to gaze back at her picturesque figure, dim, but to him
+lovely in the gathering dusk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+Robert, after his interview with the priest, returned to his old
+lodgings in a top floor of Vigo Street--for he had left Almouth House,
+where Reckage's hospitality, kind as it was, suited neither his pride
+nor his mood. He was greatly in debt, and although his salary from Lord
+Wight and his literary earnings represented a sure income, it stood at
+what he called the "early hundreds." The tastes, habits, and pursuits of
+those with whom he spent his time were delightful, no doubt, but they
+were costly. A box at the play; the cricket-match party, little dinners,
+and a rubber of whist, or a quiet game of vingt-et-un; the lunches here,
+the suppers there; the country houses where, in the winter, one could
+dine and sleep and hunt the next day, and, in the autumn, shoot, and, in
+the summer, flirt; the attendance at race-meetings, balls, and weddings;
+journeys to the Continent, civilities everywhere,--in fact, the whole
+business of society--no matter how modestly done--demands money. Most
+young men are naturally fond of brilliant, light-hearted companions,
+plenty of amusement, and that indescribable treasure known as the _joie
+de vivre_. Orange was no exception to this rule, and there were many
+hours when he tasted the bitterness of poverty, and felt the harsh
+differences between the outward gifts bestowed by Fate. It was not that
+he cared for luxuries, but it seemed hard that a horse should have to be
+counted among them, and that it was necessary to work for twelve hours a
+day in order to live at all, even as a dependent, among those with whom
+he was, by right of birth and ability, the equal, and to whom he was, in
+many cases, the superior. How many promising careers and brave hearts
+have fallen short under the strain of a position so mortifying and
+apparently so unjust! In public life, whether one joins the Church, the
+Camp, the Senate, or the Arts, the trials of strength and courage are
+most severe even to those who, in material circumstances at any rate,
+are favourites of fortune. Neither influence nor riches avail much in
+the terrific struggles for supremacy, for recognition, for mere fair
+play itself. What must the conflict be then for those who, with slight
+purses and few allies, find themselves pitted against the powerful of
+the earth? Discouragement, in weak natures, soon turns to envy, and the
+spectacle of human unkindness has driven many a reflective, delicate
+soul to say that the companionship of his fellow-men is unlovely, not to
+be admired, and difficult, at times, not to hate. In disgust of the
+world--where one has been wounded, or where one has wounded
+others--(wounded vanity and remorse are alike bitter in their fruits),
+numbers, with a sort of despairing fatalism, retire from the campaign,
+cut themselves adrift from their people and their country, and, having
+failed in life, court death under strange skies in far-off lands.
+Robert, who looked rather for the triumph of ideas than the glory of
+individuals, was not easily dismayed. So long as the right was by some
+means accomplished, and good seeds brought forth a good harvest,--the
+burden and heat of the day, the changes of weather, the scantiness of
+the wage, the ingratitude and treachery of agents, the hardships, the
+toil--mattered little enough. Devoured by ambition in his early youth,
+he had never permitted himself the least doubtful means of attaining any
+object. He was not obliged, therefore, to affect an indifference to
+success in order to divert attention from his methods of arriving at it.
+No man, once bent upon a project, could be more resolute than Orange.
+None were more stern in self-repression and self-discipline. But in
+controlling, or subduing altogether, the softer possibilities in a
+character, there is always the danger lest uncharitableness, hardness of
+heart, or blind severity of judgment should take their place. Young
+people with strong natures can seldom find the middle course between
+extremes, and this one, in curbing a desire for power, will fairly crush
+his whole vigour, while that one, in revolt against the tyranny of
+love, will become the slave of pessimism. There were days, no doubt,
+and weeks when Orange found every counsel, a mockery, and every law, a
+paradox. The strife between the flesh and the spirit went on in his life
+as it does in all lives, but he was one who held, that, whatever the
+issue of it all might be, a man must be a man while he may--losing
+himself neither in the whirl of passion nor in the enervating worlds of
+reverie, but accepting the fulness of existence--its pains, vanities,
+pleasures, cares, sorrows,--with a fighter's courage and the fortitude
+of an immortal soul.
+
+As he walked along toward Vigo Street in the cold, dark autumn morning,
+he felt more than able to hold his own against all adversaries. And this
+was not the insolence of conceit, but the just strength which comes from
+a vigorous conscience and perfect health. A soldier counts it no shame,
+but rather an honour, to die in battle, so Robert, surveying the chances
+before him, stood determined, in every event, to endure until the end,
+to fight until the end, to maintain his ground until the end. But if he
+had put sentiment from his path, it was not so easily weeded from his
+constitution, and while he was able to persuade himself that his
+renunciation of all passionate love--except as a bitter-sweet
+memory--was complete, he had to realise that the old grudge against
+Castrillon had grown into a formidable, unquenchable, over-mastering
+hatred. Where this strange obsession was concerned, no religious or
+other consideration availed in the least. Bit by bit, hour by hour, the
+feeling had grown, deriving vigour from every source, every allusion,
+and every experience. The books he read, the conversations he heard, the
+people he met--all seemed to illuminate and justify, in some mysterious
+way, his enmity against Castrillon. He may have believed that he was
+resigned to his ill-luck in love, but a sense that he had been defrauded
+haunted his thoughts always, and the longing to square his account with
+destiny was less a wish than a mute instinct. How great had been the
+temptation to defy all laws--human and Divine--where Brigit Parflete was
+in question, no one can know. In getting the better of it, the motive
+had not been, it must be confessed, the fear of punishment here or
+hereafter. This would not be a true history, nor a reasonable one, if it
+were not acknowledged that much of the victory in that situation had
+been due to the woman's youth and candid, sunny nature. No passion--far
+less a guilty one--he thought, could have had a place in that childlike
+heart. She was Pompilia--not Juliet, because, like the more ill-starred
+heroine, she had met sorrow before she met love, and the strong emotion
+which comes first in a young life makes the deep, the ineffaceable
+impression on its character. She had the strength to suffer undeserved
+woe, but the penalties of defiance and disobedience would surely kill
+her. The thought of any desperate step seemed impossible.
+
+The question of love at that point in Orange's life had therefore been
+decided as much by conditions as it had by principles and conscience.
+But with the Castrillon difficulty, it was a question of hatred--not
+love. In hate, Orange was as little given to brooding as he was in other
+matters. He had never been able to forgive the duel at Loadilla which
+had occasioned so much scandal in Madrid, and brought Brigit's name into
+bad company. Robert, before his meeting with Mrs. Parflete, had fought
+several duels, and each of them about a different pretty face.
+Encounters of the kind form part of a youth's education on the
+Continent: such experiences are considered not romantic, not heroic, not
+striking, but merely usual and manly. It was impossible for one brought
+up in this view to feel that duelling--under certain provocation and
+fair conditions--was wrong. The custom was frequently abused, no doubt,
+yet the same could be said of all customs, and Orange, rightly or
+wrongly, held a conviction on the subject which no argument could
+affect. But, with a lover's unreasonableness, he had found the fight
+between Bodava and Castrillon an insult to the lady at stake. He
+suspected, too, that Castrillon had spoken lightly of her to General
+Prim, to Zeuill, perhaps to d'Alchingen. This was insufferable, and so,
+inasmuch as the mischief had been done, he would not and could not
+remain outside the combat. There seemed, also, a certain feeling at the
+Clubs where the Madrid scandal had become known, that Castrillon, on
+the whole, had proved a more dashing, and was probably the favoured,
+suitor. Orange, whose personal courage had been demonstrated too often
+to be called into doubt, had been criticised for an absence of moral, or
+rather immoral, courage with regard to Mrs. Parflete. Reckage's sly
+phrases about the ecclesiastical temperament; the sneers of some
+adventurous women on the subject of platonic affection; the good-natured
+brow-lifting of the wits and the worldly were not easy to bear for a man
+who was, by nature, impulsive, by nature, regardless of every sacrifice
+and all opinions while a strong purpose remained unfulfilled. Robert
+made up his mind that, come what might, whether his action was approved
+or blamed, or whether he won or lost, pick some quarrel he would, and
+see how Castrillon liked it, and thus settle the matter then and for
+always. Castrillon had received a military training; he was a most
+adroit swordsman and a notorious shot; he would not be one to make a
+quarrel difficult.
+
+When Orange reached the house in Vigo Street, it was still early in the
+day. As he mounted the stairs, he noticed a fellow-lodger, still in his
+evening clothes, entering a room on the second floor. He did not see the
+man's face, but he was struck by something familiar in his build. This
+impression was not haunting, it passed almost immediately, and the young
+man settled down with resolution to his work. At one o'clock he went to
+Brookes's, had his lunch, met a few acquaintances who studied his face
+with curiosity, and a few colleagues who tried to persuade each other
+that he was a man who could play a deep game. He returned to his rooms
+and resumed work till about six o'clock, when his landlord informed him
+that a lady, who would not give her name, wished to see him. The lady
+was tall, handsomely dressed, darkly veiled. What, he thought, if it
+should be Brigit? What joy! What rashness! Robert went out into the hall
+to meet the strange visitor. She made a gesture signifying silence, and,
+on greeting her, he did not utter her name. It was Lady Sara.
+
+She did not speak until she had entered the shabbily furnished
+sitting-room and closed the door.
+
+"This is a mad thing on my part," she said; "a mad thing. I know it. Of
+course, I might have asked you to come to me, but I couldn't wait so
+long. And I don't trust letters. Some news can't be written. It is not
+about Mrs. Parflete," she added, hastily, "you need not fear that. It is
+about Beauclerk. He came to see me this afternoon. He is going to throw
+you over. He is going to fail you at the Meeting. You are to test public
+opinion while he sits under shelter--to profit by your experience. What
+do you think of that?"
+
+"You are very good to come. But I hope you are mistaken all the same. He
+may throw me over. I am sure he will send me a word of warning."
+
+"That was his first intention. He gave it up, because he knew you
+wouldn't act without him. And he wants you to act--for the reason I have
+given. Oh, I'm so ashamed, so humiliated to think that any friend of
+mine could be such a traitor."
+
+She unpinned her veil, and seemed all the handsomer for her scornful
+expression and flashing eyes.
+
+"You must be the first to retire," she continued. "I won't have you
+treated in this contemptuous way: I won't endure it. I want you to write
+to the Committee at once--at once--without a moment's loss of time. This
+is why I have come here myself. You seem to have something in you which
+they take for weakness. You will stand anything. Oh, I know why well
+enough. You like to be a martyr--which means saying nothing and
+suffering a good deal. But I call it a mistake. I call it irritating,
+misleading, actually wrong. If I were a man I would kill people."
+
+"It is easy enough to kill."
+
+"So they say. Be more unscrupulous, dear friend. Give your nature full
+play now and again. You can't make me believe that you are ever
+natural."
+
+"Some can trust their natures. I don't trust mine."
+
+"Don't you see how much more power you would have over men if you were
+more emotional, more spontaneous, more human? Who gives you credit for
+self-control? No one. They say you are self-contained--a very different
+idea. They say you are cold. Now, I don't care what I do. I follow
+every impulse. I must follow them. I had to come here this evening. I
+had to tell you about Reckage. The landlord was odious. I met two men on
+the staircase. One actually tried to peer into my face. I have never
+submitted to such indignities. Heaven knows what they are thinking now.
+I shall remember their vile laugh as long as I live. But I was
+determined to see you. And here I am. Apparently I have not done much
+good by coming. You hardly believe me. You think me an indiscreet
+woman."
+
+"I think you are splendid."
+
+"I saw Mrs. Parflete to-day. She is beautiful. But she is indiscreet,
+too. All women worth considering are miracles of imprudence."
+
+"Haven't I always said so?"
+
+"Then how can you expect us to like you when you are so--so wise?"
+
+"I don't expect you to like me."
+
+She bit her lip and pretended to check a laugh.
+
+"I suppose you enjoy this room?" she said, glancing round it till her
+eyes fell on a small crucifix which was nailed to the wall behind his
+chair; "it is so depressing. You are very perverse. And the odd thing
+is----"
+
+"Well, what is the odd thing?"
+
+"That you are attracted by Mrs. Parflete. Your style ought to be Saint
+Clare or Saint Elizabeth. But not at all. You prefer this exquisite,
+wayward, perfectly dressed, extremely young actress. You give your
+nature full play in your _taste_, at all events."
+
+"You can urge that much in my favour, then?"
+
+"Yes, that much. Oh, she's pretty. But frivolous and light-hearted--as
+light-hearted as Titania. There! I have been wondering what I could call
+her. She is Titania in alabaster. Marble is too strong. At first, I
+thought it might be marble. I have changed my mind since. I suppose you
+know she will act in this comedy with Castrillon at the d'Alchingens?"
+
+"So Disraeli has told me. Did you come to tell me that, also?"
+
+She coloured, but met his angry glance without flinching. "Now," she
+thought, "he is going to show temper."
+
+"I came to tell you that, also," she repeated. "Pensee is opposed to the
+whole scheme. Mrs. Parflete stamped her very beautiful foot, and said,
+'I go.' Do you approve?"
+
+"I am to meet Castrillon to-night at the Prince d'Alchingen's," he
+answered, evading her question.
+
+"How you hate him!"
+
+"What makes you think so?"
+
+"I know your face. I never saw any love there for anybody, but just then
+there was a look of hate."
+
+"You are quite right. I do hate him."
+
+"You are actually trembling at the mention of his name. Then you have
+feelings, after all." She clapped her hands, and leaving her chair
+walked toward him.
+
+"Never hate me, will you?" she said, touching his arm. "Promise me that
+you will never hate me. Like me as much as you can."
+
+At that instant, they heard a tap at the door, and the landlord,
+carrying a few letters on a salver, entered the room. Sara pulled down
+her veil--a foolish action, which she regretted a moment later. Orange
+thanked the man for the letters and threw them on the table. The
+landlord, with a studied air of discretion, which was the more insulting
+for its very slyness, went, half on tiptoe, out.
+
+"Does he always bring your letters upstairs?" she asked.
+
+"As a rule--no," said Orange.
+
+"Then he came on purpose! He wanted to see me--what impudence! I am
+beginning to realise what one has to expect if one--if one takes an
+unconventional step."
+
+Her voice failed, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. Then she
+covered her face with her hands.
+
+"Every courageous--every disinterested act is unconventional," said
+Robert; "you are tired out--that's all."
+
+"You see," she answered, with a note of harsh sadness in her voice, "I
+have had a strange day. The scene with Beauclerk was a great strain. I
+feel a kind of apprehensiveness and terror--yes, terror, which I cannot
+describe. It may be my nerves, it may be fancy. But I am too conscious
+of being alive. Every minute seems vital. Every sound is acute. This day
+has been one long over-emphasis. Look at my hand: how it trembles!
+Beauclerk called me a witch. Certainly, I am more sensitive to
+impressions than most people."
+
+"One of these letters is from Reckage. It is written on a sheet of your
+own note-paper."
+
+She dried her eyes, and looked at him with exultation, astonishment, and
+a certain incredulity.
+
+"Then he must have listened to me. He posted it, after all, when he left
+the house. He is always impulsive. I remember now--that I saw him give
+something to the groom. Do read what he says."
+
+The letter, scrawled hastily on the pale lilac note-paper affected by
+Sara and bearing her monogram, ran as follows:--
+
+     "MY DEAR OLD FELLOW,--There are still some points of arrangement
+     very material to consider with regard to this Meeting next week,
+     and I hope it is not too late to go into them. The thing cannot be
+     done away. But the circumstances have become, thank God, very
+     different indeed. Mr. Disraeli has asked me to speak in his stead
+     at Hanborough--an honour so wholly unexpected and undeserved that I
+     am forced to see in it an especial mark of encouragement. I must
+     admit at once that I feel greatly flattered. I am not now to be
+     taught what opinion I am to entertain of those gentlemen whose
+     narrow and selfish principles forced me to move against my
+     inclination, my judgment, and my convictions. I am persuaded that
+     any additional public action--no matter how indirect on my part--in
+     the Nomination of Temple would have at this juncture, the worse
+     effect. It would savour of self-advertisement--an idea which I
+     abhor. It would seem an _over-doing_, as it were, of my own
+     importance. You will readily agree, I know, that I ought to keep
+     perfectly quiet before, and for some time after, my Hanborough
+     appearance. Not having in any degree changed my view upon this
+     subject of the Association, I don't feel that my present decision
+     is inconsistent. I think it will strike everybody as a
+     sensible--the only sensible--course to follow.
+
+     "When can you dine? Or if you won't dine, let me see you when you
+     can spare half an hour.
+
+                        "Yours affectionately,"
+
+                                "BEAUCLERK."
+
+Orange turned to Sara and said, when he had finished reading--
+
+"I am glad he wrote."
+
+"You knew him better than I did. He is still a poor creature, for, what
+does it all come to?--a rambling, stupid lie. The letter is sheer
+rubbish--a complete misrepresentation of the facts. But I need not have
+come. This always happens when women interfere between men," she added,
+bitterly; "you don't want us. There's a freemasonry among men. You
+excuse and justify and forgive each other always."
+
+"You persuaded him to post this."
+
+"That is true. He might have done so, however, without persuasion. In
+future, call me the busybody! I must go now. I have made you late for
+d'Alchingen's dinner. What a lesson to those about to make themselves
+useful! And how right you were not to get bitter! I take things too much
+to heart. I must pray for flippancy. Then, perhaps, I may find no fault
+with this world, or with you, or with anybody!"
+
+"I am bitter enough--don't doubt it."
+
+"No! no! let us assure each other that this is the best of all possible
+worlds--that Beauclerk shows cleverness and good sense, that no one
+tells lies, no one is treacherous, no one is unjust, malicious, or
+revengeful nowadays, that friends are friends, and enemies--merely
+divided in opinions! We must encourage ourselves in a cynical,
+good-natured toleration of all that is abject and detestable in
+mankind."
+
+"You are too impatient, Lady Sara. You want life concentrated, like a
+play, into a few acts lasting, say, three hours. Whereas, most lives
+have no denouement--so far as lookers-on are concerned!"
+
+"At last some one has been able to define me. I am 'impatient.' But you
+take refuge in that profound silence which is the philosophy of the
+strong; you don't struggle against the general feeling; you content
+yourself by going your own gait quietly. You have pride enough to
+be--nothing, and ambition enough to do--everything. Hark! what is that?
+They are calling out news in the street."
+
+"The current lie," said Orange. "We don't want to hear it."
+
+Sara walked to the window and threw it open.
+
+"I caught a name," she exclaimed. "It is something about Reckage ...
+Listen ... Reckage!"
+
+Above the din of the traffic, a hoarse duet rose from the street--voice
+answering voice with a discordant reiteration of one phrase--"_Serious
+accident to Lord Reckage! Serious accident to Lord Reckage!_"
+
+"My God, what are they saying? What are they saying? It is my
+imagination. It can't be true. I am fancying things. What are they
+saying?"
+
+Orange had already left the room and was in the road. When he returned,
+he gave her the newspaper and did not attempt to speak. But he closed
+the window in order to shut out, if possible, the hideous cry.
+
+"Where is it? I can't see! In which column?" said Sara.
+
+He pointed to a corner on the third page, where she read in black, rough
+type:--
+
+"_Lord Reckage was thrown from his horse at Hyde Park Corner this
+afternoon. He was removed to Almouth House. His injuries are said to be
+of a very dangerous nature._"
+
+She crushed the paper in her hand, and the two stood looking at each
+other, stupefied by the blow.
+
+"I am going to him," said Robert.
+
+"And I must go home," whispered the girl. "He always said that Pluto
+would be the death of him."
+
+They went down the stairs together without exchanging a word. Orange
+walked with her to St. James's Square. Neither could speak. On parting,
+she faltered,--
+
+"Let me know ... how he is...."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+Lord Reckage had been carried through the hall of Almouth House, but not
+up the famous staircase of which he was so proud. He looked at it as
+they bore him to the library, and although he was still in a kind of
+stupor, the terrified servants could read in his eyes the certain
+knowledge that he would never behold the marble walls or the portraits
+of his ancestors again.
+
+"Are you in pain, my lord? is your lordship in pain?" sobbed the
+housekeeper. His features were injured and his face was perfectly
+pallid--so much changed that he could not have been immediately
+recognised. Four doctors--one of them a passer-by at the time of the
+accident--had assembled. They found one shoulder was severely injured,
+and the right collar-bone broken. He complained of great pain in his
+side.
+
+"Am I going to die, Sir Thomas?" said he.
+
+"Why should you die?" replied the distinguished surgeon. "But you have
+had a nasty fall."
+
+"Pluto shied at something," answered his lordship; "mind they don't
+shoot him. I won't have him shot."
+
+Then, for a few moments, he lost consciousness.
+
+When Orange arrived, the physicians were looking very grave, and
+telegrams had been despatched to all the young man's near relatives.
+
+"He has called for you several times," said Sir Thomas; "and," he added,
+dropping his voice, "is there any lady who could meet ... the family? I
+fancy I caught a lady's name more than once. Could it have been----"
+
+"Sara," suggested Orange, to relieve his embarrassment.
+
+"It certainly sounded like Sara."
+
+"Then I will send Lord Garrow a note--she is Lord Garrow's daughter--a
+lifelong friend. Is there no hope?"
+
+"He may have a pretty good night."
+
+Robert bowed his head and asked no more. He sat by the dying man, whose
+sufferings, although they were a little alleviated by morphia, made him
+restless. He moaned even in his snatches of sleep, and spoke
+occasionally--always about the accident. Once he mentioned Agnes:
+
+"Agnes will be sorry when she hears."
+
+Toward daybreak he turned to Orange, and said quite simply--
+
+"You are different from the rest. You have the priest's element in you;
+there is an incessant struggle and toil to cut one another's throat
+among us average men--all striving after success. You weren't built that
+way. God bless you."
+
+In the morning his father and the near relatives arrived. The women
+cried bitterly. The aged peer looked on in stony grief--drinking in his
+son's scarred faced and glancing, with despair, from time to time, at
+the clock.
+
+"It isn't going, is it?" he asked.
+
+No, it had been checked; the tick disturbed his lordship, but there was
+an hour-glass on the table.
+
+"How many hours do they think----?"
+
+"Perhaps ten hours."
+
+When the sand had run down at the conclusion of the first hour, no one
+reversed the instrument. But Lady Margaret Sempton, the Earl's sister,
+sent a whispered message to the Bishop of Hadley, who was waiting, much
+altered by sorrow and anxiety, in the ante-room. Reckage had asked to
+see him. He had always liked the good old man, and the rest withdrew
+during their short interview.
+
+Meanwhile carriage after carriage drove up to the door; caller after
+caller appeared with cards, notes, and inquiries; name after name was
+inscribed in the visitors' book; telegrams came from the Royal family,
+from all parts of the country and the Continent.
+
+"My poor boy. I didn't know he had so many friends," said his father.
+"God forgive me, I used to think he wasted his time on fads."
+
+And odd people came also. Trainers, jockeys, and horse-dealers rubbed
+shoulders on the doorsteps with collectors of old furniture,
+missionaries, electioneering agents, ladies of the chorus, of the
+_corps de ballet_, shabby-genteel individuals of both sexes out of work,
+and the like; each had his degree of regret and an anecdote.
+
+"He was always very kind to me," said this one, that one, and the other.
+
+Bradwyn, noting some of these unusual visitors, observed that Reckage
+had a knack of pleasing the lower classes and half-educated persons
+generally. He heard a Bible-reader say to the footman: "_Take ye heed,
+watch and pray; for ye know not when the time is!_" and he shuddered at
+this exhibition of bad taste. Lord Garrow had been unremitting in his
+personal inquiries, but Sara did not come till she received the
+following from Orange--
+
+"He is conscious, and he asks to see you."
+
+She reached the room as the Bishop of Hadley was coming out; tears were
+in his eyes and he did not notice the young lady who glided past him as
+lightly as a shadow. Poor Reckage recognised her step, however, and
+pulled the sheet half over his face lest she should be startled at its
+harsh disfigurements. She threw off her hat and veil and fell on her
+knees by the side of his bed.
+
+"Speak to me, Beauclerk, speak to me; it is I--Sara."
+
+"I know you," he whispered; "you are the one I loved the best. But I
+haven't been true to anybody. I only wish to goodness I had another
+chance. I'd be different--I'd show 'em ... I never meant ..." he took
+her hand, her beautiful, tapering hand loaded with sapphires ... "like
+your eyes, old girl ... don't cry ... and I say, I posted that ...
+letter after all ... to please you. Are you ... pleased?"
+
+He spoke no more.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Action is the essence of political parties, and the members of the
+League had the ink barely dry on their telegrams of condolence before
+they despatched others, summoning a special meeting for the
+consideration of future steps. Orange, who was regarded as a man devoid
+of ambition, was unanimously elected a member of the Executive
+Committee; he was a good speaker, he could mind his own business, he
+never pulled wires, and it was his rule to step aside when others behind
+him showed any disposition to push toward the front. On the evening of
+the day on which Lord Reckage died, Aumerle and Ullweather called at
+Vigo Street as a preliminary move in their new plan of campaign. But
+Robert was not there. He sat all that night, a solitary watcher, in the
+chamber of death. His affection for his old pupil was something stronger
+than a brother's love. Whether he saw him as others saw him, or whether
+he was aware of certain pleasant traits in that uncertain character
+which escaped the common run of dull observers, his devotion had never
+wearied in all the years of their acquaintanceship.
+
+The old housekeeper crept into the room when the bereaved family had
+retired, and she was on her way to bed.
+
+"You and me, sir, always got on with his lordship," she said, looking
+down, with Robert, at the still, marred face. "We understood him. He
+wasn't all for self--as many thought. But his heart wanted touching. If
+you could touch his heart, a kinder gentleman didn't live. And if it was
+my last breath, I'd call him the best of the lot--in spite of his
+tantrums, and his changeableness, and his haughty way sometimes. Mark my
+words, the glory of Almouth dies with him. Mr. Hercy will bring us down
+to rack and ruin. O, sir, I'm glad I'm old. I never want to see the
+sorrow that is sure to come to Almouth."
+
+But Orange was not thinking about the house of Almouth, or its fate. His
+thoughts were with the soul of the young man who had enjoyed life so
+well, and made so many plans, and cherished so many worldly hopes--of
+the young man who had existed apparently to indulge his own will, spend
+money, kill time, and fulfil a few rather showy responsibilities. And
+yet what Robert remembered best was his laugh. He could hear it still.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+Prince d'Alchingen had been much put out of conceit with himself by
+disappointment. The small dinner which he had carefully arranged for
+Orange and Castrillon took place, but Orange was not present. He had
+sent word from Almouth House that he could not leave Lord Reckage. His
+Excellency, therefore, was thoroughly annoyed, and Castrillon's
+persiflage fell heavily upon his ears. He tried to think that this
+nobleman's vivacity made him appear flippant, whereas he was, in
+reality, a Don Juan of the classic type--unscrupulous, calculating, and
+damnable. When he remarked that it was _grande folie de vouloir d'etre
+sage avec une sagesse impossible_, the Prince's spirits rose--only to
+fall again, however, at a later pronouncement from the same lips to the
+effect that virtuous women always brought tears to his eyes.
+
+"They tell me," said the Prince, weighing each syllable with great
+deliberation (they carried on their conversation principally in French
+and Spanish) "that Mrs. Parflete is an admirable actress."
+
+Castrillon kissed the tips of his fingers to the air, and ejaculated:
+"Adorable!"
+
+"Does she resemble, in any way, I wonder, her good mother, Madame
+Duboc?"
+
+No, she had her own style--although she was coquettish enough. And
+pretty? Delicious.
+
+"This is better," thought his Excellency, "much better. And do you
+think," he asked, aloud, "that she cares at all for Orange?"
+
+Castrillon smirked and put his hand, half instinctively, to his
+breast-pocket. D'Alchingen inferred, from this quick movement, that he
+carried a letter or two, or a keepsake, from the lady near the region of
+his heart.
+
+"She may need the tonic of some Platonic love in order to bear the
+burden of a solitary life," said the Marquis; "but, all the same, I have
+no especial reason to think that M. de Hausee is her ideal."
+
+"He is the ideal of several persons," said Alchingen; "I don't know what
+to make of him."
+
+But at this point Castrillon displayed a maddening discretion. The
+Prince was glad when he took his departure, and he exhausted his stock
+of malice in wishing the young coxcomb to the devil. His Excellency was
+becoming more and more morose over his snuff and the last mail--which
+was longer and duller than usual--with a peculiarly sharp note from his
+Chief into the bargain--when Mudara was announced.
+
+Mudara bowed to perfection, and then, going forward, presumed to put his
+hand on the Ambassador's arm.
+
+"Your Excellency," said he, "I have some important news. On the whole it
+is gratifying. It may make us cynical, but it is absurd to expect human
+nature to be Divine. Mrs. Parflete has been at Orange's lodgings this
+afternoon."
+
+"You don't mean it?"
+
+"Indeed, it is too true. When he moved to Vigo Street, I was fortunate
+enough to secure a room in the same house immediately under his."
+
+"Good!"
+
+"I was sitting at my table, with the door just ajar, when I heard, at
+six o'clock, a rustle of silk skirts on the stairs. I peeped out. I saw
+a tall lady, thickly veiled, following our landlord, Dunton, across the
+landing. She caught sight of me, and started violently."
+
+"Was it Mrs. Parflete?"
+
+"I could _swear_" he answered slowly, "that it was Mrs. Parflete.... She
+reached Orange's door; Dunton tapped; Orange came out; the lady and he
+exchanged glances; they entered the room together, and he closed the
+door. Three-quarters of an hour later they came down the stairs and left
+the house."
+
+"You followed them?"
+
+"Alas! I couldn't. I was not alone. Parflete himself was with me. I
+dared not trust him out of my sight. He, following his custom, grew
+faint at the sight of Madame----"
+
+"Then he, too, recognised her? This is excellent."
+
+"He recognised her height and her figure. Besides, whom else could it
+have been--if not Mrs. Parflete? M. de Hausee has no sister, and we know
+his character. The caprice of fortune has honoured him with many faults,
+but gallantry is not among them. I have that from those who knew him
+when he was too young to disguise his true nature. He would not have
+been an _abbe malgre lui_, and he has, on the contrary, the most
+ecclesiastical soul I know. Rest assured, your Excellency, that this
+_canaille_ of a woman is determined to be his ruin, for she is a
+baptized serpent,--one of those creatures more dangerous to men than the
+devil himself."
+
+The Ambassador smiled agreeably, put his tongue in his cheek, and nodded
+his head with a movement which might have passed equally well for a
+sympathetic reproof or sorrowful acquiescence.
+
+"What will Parflete do?" he asked.
+
+Mudara threw up his dark, sinewy, and powerful hands in genuine despair.
+
+"He is the vice of the situation," he exclaimed; "at the very mention of
+divorce his teeth chatter, he gets a spasm of the heart, and he begins
+to gabble like a sick monk about his soul and his conscience. Believe
+me, we are dealing with a madman. How can any end be attained in his
+present state of irresolution?"
+
+"Happily it is not my business either to arrange or propose the means."
+
+The sly glance of the Prince encountered the sly glance of the Agent.
+
+"That is well understood, your Excellency," said Mudara, with the
+inimitable accent of respect. "Let good be done and let evil be avoided,
+is the sum total of the Government's desires. But whenever I can see
+clearly, I shall know how to act. When right and truth are plain, time
+and experience are the best allies. We have at least sufficient evidence
+to institute divorce proceedings. If Parflete will not file a
+petition----"
+
+"You can do nothing. Unless you can be perfectly sure that he will
+follow some reasonable course, he ought to be saved from himself."
+
+"Yes, he ought to be saved from himself. Something in my nature makes me
+follow a certain kind of man as hounds track game. What is now to be
+done is to meet force with force."
+
+"An armed diplomacy is good," said d'Alchingen.
+
+"And also a scheme of alternatives," replied Mudara.
+
+"I confess I very much prefer working through Castrillon, if possible,
+than de Hausee. Disraeli has implicit faith in this de Hausee. It seems
+taken for granted that he is ascetic and intellectual. He is altogether
+in the clouds, whereas Castrillon is wholly in touch with--with
+humanity."
+
+"But de Hausee, like the Cardinal de Retz, fought duels when he was a
+student. If I cannot work upon Parflete's jealousy, we must see what can
+be done in that direction with de Hausee. We hear much of the soul's
+awakening! Wait for the body's awakening now--it must come. Mrs.
+Parflete is a _Samaritaine_; we have to prove it somehow. Even though
+one invented stories about her, one would probably find that they were,
+approximately, true."
+
+"Keep me informed," said the Prince, making a little bow, which
+signified that the audience was at an end.
+
+Mudara, according to his own Confession, left the Embassy and proceeded
+at once to the small private hotel near Covent Garden where Parflete had
+taken up his abode.
+
+     Parflete's rooms, (_we read_) were en suite. He had bought a few
+     rather beautiful prints and a number of exquisitely bound books.
+     These last, with bowls and vases of flowers, were scattered over
+     the various tables. The scent of the flowers mingled with the
+     strange fumes of some Oriental incense. He had draped pieces of
+     flame-coloured silk over the windows. Everything looked _bizarre_,
+     and the atmosphere was sultry. When I entered he was not pleased to
+     see me--in fact, he showed a disposition to sulk. I laboured to
+     convince him that he would forfeit the respect of all honourable
+     men unless he showed some just resentment at his wife's conduct.
+
+     "No one respects me as it is," he answered; "nobody cares what I do
+     one way or the other so long as I avoid the police. And as the
+     police and I have nothing at all in common, I am not likely to
+     give offence to my good friends in the Alberian Government."
+
+     I warned him that such sneers were unjustifiable, and I reminded
+     him, with severity, of the Government's extraordinary forbearance.
+
+     He fixed his eyes unpleasantly upon me, and his fingers trembled as
+     he played with the frogs of his lilac-velvet smoking-jacket.
+
+     "I wish," said he, "that you would mind your own business. I have
+     done everything to protect the appearance of your good faith all
+     through this affair. Now leave me alone. Besides, I can't be sure
+     that the lady we saw to-day was Her Imperial Highness."
+
+     My exasperation at his tone of defiance was all but uncontrollable.
+
+     "You know," said I, "that we had no doubt of her identity."
+
+     "We didn't see her face nor the colour of her hair. In any case, I
+     refuse to humiliate her. Kindly remember that she is my wife, and
+     drop a conversation which I find insulting."
+
+     Hot words then passed between us. In my anger I may have uttered
+     several truths which hit him too hard. Suddenly he sprang at me as
+     though he were a wild cat. His eyes rolled, his face was convulsed
+     beyond recognition. Men I have never feared; he seemed, however,
+     not a man but some demoniac risen from hell. In self-defence I
+     struck him with the small poniard which I have carried all my life.
+     He staggered back, and the blood-letting seemed to relieve his
+     temper.
+
+     "Go!" said he; "go while you can. I don't think the wound is
+     mortal, but I don't wish any man hanged for murdering me."
+
+     It was in my will to strike him again. I was beside myself with
+     contempt at what I took to be a fresh revelation of his cowardice.
+
+     I replied coolly enough,--"I would not murder you. Have no alarm on
+     that score. But I can defend myself, I hope."
+
+     By this time he had reached the door and thrown it open. A waiter
+     was passing at the time.
+
+     "Sir," said Parflete, "I have the honour to wish you good-day."
+
+     The waiter heard this remark distinctly, and saw me bow as I parted
+     from the wretched creature.
+
+     Parflete's appearance was ghastly, but I attributed this pallor to
+     fright and not to pain, for I believed from my heart that the wound
+     was no more than a slight prick. I left the hotel, took a cab to my
+     lodgings, and after reading a light Spanish novel in order to
+     change the current of my thoughts, I passed an excellent night,
+     sleeping at least seven hours.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+Lord Garrow, after much cautious consideration, had decided that Lady
+Sara could not absent herself from the d'Alchingens' party without
+exciting unfavourable comment, and so prejudicing her future
+relationship with the Duke of Marshire. His lordship, in his secret
+heart, was by no means sorry for Reckage's untimely death. An orthodox
+faith in a better, happier world assisted his conscience over the many
+difficulties which afflict a strong sense of good manners. Good manners
+demanded some show of grief at the young man's melancholy end; but, as
+his lordship pointed out to his weeping daughter, higher reflections
+ought to triumph over the vulgar instincts of sorrow, and an etiquette
+almost heathenish. "Let us be thankful," said he, "that poor Beauclerk
+was spared some lingering malady and the shattering disappointments of a
+public career. He would not wish us to mourn. And indeed, any undue
+mourning on your part might give a very false impression in society. You
+must go to the d'Alchingens'."
+
+Hadley Lodge was built in the reign of George I. In design it resembles
+a little the Vice-Regal Lodge in Dublin; two wings, containing
+innumerable small rooms, are connected by corridors leading to the
+entrance hall. The chief rooms are in the centre, to which Prince
+d'Alchingen himself added a miniature theatre, copied from the one at
+Trianon. When Sara arrived, the Prince and Princess were taking tea in
+the gallery--an apartment so furnished with screens, sofas,
+writing-tables, divans, and arm-chairs that it had become the lounge, as
+it were, of the house. Less formal than the saloon, brighter than the
+library, and more airy than the boudoir, the Princess spent the greater
+part of her day in a favourite corner where she could command a view
+from four windows, enjoy the fire, see the best pictures, and hear the
+piano pleasantly if any guest chose to play upon it. In person she was
+tall and rather gaunt, with high cheek-bones, and very dark hollows
+under her eyes. She had the air of a mourning empress, and seriousness
+was so natural to her countenance, that, although she could not smile,
+and had never been known to laugh, she was not depressing nor was she,
+accurately speaking, melancholy. The style of beauty--for she had
+beauty--was haggard, of the kind now familiar to all English people from
+the paintings of Sir Edward Burne-Jones. In 1869, however, this type was
+still highly uncommon and little appreciated. Journals and letters of
+the period contain references to "that fright, Princess d'Alchingen," or
+"that poor creature who always looks so ill," or "that woman who makes
+one think of a corpse." Sara admired the Princess, and surprised all
+the fashionable artists of that day by insisting on her paintableness.
+
+"How good of you to come, dear Sara!" she murmured, presenting her
+sallow cheek to the young girl with a touch of regal graciousness at
+once designed and impulsive; "I should have been lost without you.
+Anselm has invited a large party, and, as you know, I cannot talk to
+these dear people. I find them too clever, and they find me too stupid.
+The world is not willing to give me credit for that which I have done."
+
+"And what is that, dearest?" asked the Prince.
+
+"I married you!" she answered, with a quick flash of humour under her
+gravity. It was like the occasional sparkle in granite. "You may smile
+at the notion of my living on the reputation of what I might yet do,"
+she continued, resuming her languor.
+
+"Let us talk of pleasant things only, _chere amie_," said the Prince,
+turning to Sara; "mind you, not a word about graves and epitaphs. Mrs.
+Parflete has arrived. Castrillon has arrived. You need not trouble about
+the others. They are not--they cannot be--worth your while. But do watch
+Castrillon. I find that the greatest compliment he can pay to any woman
+is to sneer at her expense. He never permits himself the slightest
+epigram against those who have erred in kindness toward him. One witty
+but frail lady once implored him to miss no opportunity of abusing her
+in public. 'Otherwise,' said she, 'they will know all.' Isn't that a
+good story?"
+
+"Anselm!" sighed the Princess.
+
+"I wonder who that lady was?" said Sara.
+
+"I dare not guess," said the Prince.
+
+Sara had recovered from the emotion called forth by Reckage's tragic
+fate, and she was living now in one of those taciturn reveries which had
+become more and more habitual with her since the last interview with
+d'Alchingen. Every force in her passionate, undisciplined soul was
+concentrated in a wild love for Orange, and every thought of her mind
+was fixed on the determination to win his affection in return. There
+were only two real powers in the world, she told herself; these were
+moral force and money. Money could not affect Robert. But he was
+susceptible to moral force. She resolved to display such an intrepid
+spirit, such strength of will, such devotion that Brigit would seem a
+mere doll in comparison.
+
+"What do you think," she said, turning to the Princess, "of Mrs.
+Parflete? Your opinion is worth everything. Orange is infatuated with
+her. His criticism is therefore useless. The Prince disapproves of her
+parentage. He is therefore prejudiced. I wish to be charitable. I,
+therefore, say what I hardly think. Pensee Fitz Rewes is an innocent
+little fool. She judges all women by herself. You, Princess, are an
+angel of the world. Your verdict, quickly."
+
+The Princess paused before she attempted any reply. Then she fixed her
+deep, grey eyes on Sarah's excited face.
+
+"I like her," she said, slowly.
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"I think she is immature for her age, and therefore reckless. She knows
+everything about sorrow, and very little--at present--about happiness.
+So she doesn't seem quite human. She shows that indulgence toward others
+which is perhaps the last degree of contempt for the follies of
+humanity. Those who take their neighbours seriously are almost
+invariably severe. Mrs. Parflete, on the contrary, is all good-nature
+and excuses. I believe she has genius, and I am sure she will have an
+amazing career."
+
+The Princess, who had always insisted on a studious rather than an
+active part in life, was consequently unlike the majority of her sex,
+who, in the bustle of social engagements, talk without ceasing, letting
+words take the place of ideas, and phrases serve for sentiments. All
+that she uttered showed a habit of thought opposed to the common method
+of drawing-room conversation; she rarely said the expected thing, and
+never, a welcome one. Sara, therefore, was disappointed at this
+favourable judgment of Mrs. Parflete. The jealousy which she had been
+able to control by hoping, in the depths of her heart, that the young
+actress would prove too light a creature to bind for long any masculine,
+stirring spirit, now saw some justification for vehemence.
+
+"And what do you think of Robert Orange?" she asked, breathing quickly.
+
+The Princess folded her hands, fixed her eyes again on the young girl,
+and answered in her usual even tones--
+
+"He is a sentimentalist turned man of action. When this miracle can be
+accomplished, you may expect a very decided, even implacable,
+character--because it is much more difficult to crush one's poetry than
+to crush one's passions. The passions are more or less physical, they
+depend on many material conditions or accidents; but poetry, ideals,
+romance and the like belong to the spirit. I find a great campaign is
+being waged everywhere against the soul. It is a universal movement--the
+only things considered now are the pocket and the brain and the liver."
+
+"Delightful!" said Sara, trying to speak calmly; "and will Orange become
+a liver-devotee?"
+
+"You don't understand self-discipline, _cherie_," answered the Princess;
+"that seems a sealed mystery to most people except the Catholics and the
+Buddhists. Protestants never speak of it, never think of it. Their
+education is all for self-concealment. If I read M. de Hausee rightly,
+he will become no colourless, emasculated being, but certainly a man
+with a silent heart. When he has a grievance he will take it to
+God--never to his friends."
+
+Prince d'Alchingen stifled a yawn and offered Sara a cigarette, which
+she refused, although she had acquired the habit of smoking during her
+visits to Russia.
+
+"If you will both swear," said he, "to keep a secret, I can tell you
+one."
+
+The old and the young lady flushed alike with delight at the prospect of
+hearing some strange news.
+
+"It will come well," he continued, "after my wife's prophetic remarks.
+Mrs. Parflete went alone to Orange's lodgings on Wednesday last at six
+o'clock."
+
+"Is it possible?" exclaimed the Princess.
+
+Sara, feeling the Prince's dissecting glance burning into her
+countenance, grew white and red by turns.
+
+"What a temperament! what jealousy!" thought d'Alchingen.
+
+"How do you know all this?" she asked, thrusting her hands, which were
+trembling, into her ermine muff.
+
+"I know it for a fact. The question now is--How will Parflete endure
+such conduct? Her bigamy may have been innocent, or at least, an
+unavoidable accident. But the afternoon call--well, if he can swallow
+that, his meekness runs a risk of being called cowardice, and his
+magnanimity will bear an unpleasant resemblance to dishonour."
+
+"Yet surely--surely----" stammered Sara.
+
+In a second she grasped the mistake which had been made, and all its
+possible disastrous consequences to herself. Loss of reputation, the
+finger of scorn, and for what? Nothing, or at the worst, an
+indiscretion. Scandal, had there been a romantic cause, and loss of
+reputation, had there been a great passion to make it more memorable as
+a sacrifice than a disgrace, would have seemed to her defiant mind
+something glorious. But here was a mere unbeautiful story--sordid, if
+misunderstood, and a little silly, if satisfactorily explained. And it
+could not be satisfactorily explained. Sara knew life too well to
+encourage herself by supposing that the real truth about her foolish
+visit to Orange's lodgings could ever be told or believed. Orange
+himself would never betray her she knew. But what if she had been seen
+or recognised? The landlord, the men on the staircase--had they followed
+her home, or been able to pierce through her thick veil? She tried to
+collect her thoughts, to appear extremely interested--that was all. The
+effort, however, was beyond her strength. She showed her agitation, and,
+while it was fortunately attributed by the d'Alchingens to a wrong
+reason, they were close observers of every change in her face, nor did
+they miss the notes of alarm and nervousness in her voice.
+
+"It will probably mean a divorce, the social ruin of Orange, and the
+successful _debut_ of Madame as a comedian of the first rank," said the
+Ambassador.
+
+"Does Orange know that she was seen that day?" asked Sara.
+
+"Not yet. He will know soon enough, never fear."
+
+"Are you sure--quite sure that it was Mrs. Parflete?" suggested the
+Princess.
+
+"It must have been she," replied the Prince.
+
+"It must have been she," repeated Sara, mechanically.
+
+The lie seemed to come before she had time to think of it; it tripped
+off her tongue as though some will, other than her own, controlled her
+speech. But now that the untruth was spoken she determined to abide by
+it, so she repeated:--
+
+"It must have been Mrs. Parflete."
+
+"And suppose," said the Princess, "that she is able to prove that she
+spent the whole of Wednesday with Lady Fitz Rewes? No one could doubt
+the evidence of Lady Fitz Rewes."
+
+D'Alchingen shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"In that event--which is unlikely," he said; "M. de Hausee will have a
+bad half-hour with Mrs. Parflete. The idyll will be spoilt for ever, and
+our pretty tale for angels about a Saint and a little Bohemian will sink
+to its proper level. It always takes three to make a really edifying
+Platonic history. The third in this case is the lady who called at Vigo
+Street. _Dans le combat, il faut marchez sans s'attendrir!_"
+
+"Who would live?" murmured the Princess, pressing a martyr's relic which
+she always wore on a chain round her neck.
+
+"Suppose," continued d'Alchingen, enjoying his own cynicism, "that we
+have a quartette in this instance. Madame has her Castrillon, M. de
+Hausee has his veiled lady. Each is a pious fraud to the other. Imagine
+the double current of their thoughts, the deceit, the hypocrisy, the
+colossal lie behind them both which makes the inspiring truth a fact! It
+is an anecdote to be told in the Boccaccio manner--gracefully, with
+humour, with much indulgence ... otherwise, it might be the sort of
+story they tell in hell."
+
+"I am happy to say that I have no imagination," said the Princess; "and
+now I shall take Sara--who must be tired--to her room."
+
+She rose from her seat, and, drawing Sara's arm through hers, walked
+from the gallery, through the hall, and up the staircase, talking, the
+while, of a new Romney which the Prince had recently purchased.
+
+Sara was now in her own room, but not alone, for her maid was unpacking,
+and the gown, petticoat, shoes, gloves, and flowers designed for that
+evening were being spread out upon the bed. The girl was in no humour to
+enjoy the finery which she had chosen with so much delight. She turned
+her back upon it all, and, pulling up the blind, gazed moodily out of
+the window till her maid's preparations were at an end. Romantic trees
+and a landscape, almost artificial in its prettiness, surrounded Hadley.
+The sun was setting in a fire, burnishing with enamel tints the long
+green hills which ranged as a natural fortification across the horizon,
+shutting out a whole country of flat fields beyond. The moon, in its
+first quarter, shone out above a distant steeple where the eastern sky,
+already blue and opalesque, promised the dawn of another day in
+reparation for the one then dying in scarlet splendour. But to those who
+are unhappy, to-morrow is a word without significance. Sara stretched
+out her arms instinctively toward the coming night. She wanted darkness
+and she wanted sleep--not the stars of the morning, not the joy of noon.
+What should she do? Her mad love for Orange had reached a desperate
+point--a point where she realised all too clearly and with bitterness,
+that, so far from being a source of strength, it was a curse, a malady,
+a humiliation--driving her into that insatiable desire of solitude where
+the companionship of dreadful imaginations and gloomy thoughts can rend
+the soul at their pleasure. As men are sometimes lured toward dangerous
+perils on land, or mountains, or by sea, and from thence to deeds,
+discoveries, and crimes unforeseen and unpremeditated, so she seemed
+borne along into a whirlpool of feelings which chilled the better
+impulses of her nature and accentuated, with acid and fire, every
+elementary instinct. Animal powers and spiritual tendencies alike were
+concentrated into one absorbing passion which reasoned only in delirium,
+incoherently, without issue. She was wretched in Orange's company
+because every moment so spent showed her that his heart was fixed far
+indeed from her. But the wretchedness suffered that way was stifled in
+the torments she endured when she wondered, miserably, in loneliness,
+what he was thinking, doing, saying; where he was, with whom he was, and
+how he was. The despair of unrequited love was thrice intensified by
+jealousy. "Why did he like that little adventuress, that white china
+Rahab?" she asked herself again and again. "It is just because she has
+bewitched him. It is not real love--it isn't any kind of love. She
+cannot care for him as I do. It isn't in her. O why, why does he fight
+so hard against me?"
+
+Beautiful women seldom believe that their charms can be resisted without
+a fierce struggle. It was, in fact, a tranquil consciousness of beauty
+which gave audacity to Sara's words, and put the ordinary question of
+pride out of the question. Was it not rather a case of the goddess
+putting on humanity, of the queen condescending to a subject. _La reine
+s'amuse_ was the unuttered, constant motto on her heart of hearts. The
+blood of Asiatic princes ran in her veins, and a sovereign contempt for
+manners, as opposed to passions and self-will, ruled her fierce spirit.
+But what should she do? A moment's reflection had shown her that Brigit
+could have no difficulty in proving that she was not the mysterious lady
+who visited Orange's lodgings. Having weighed all the disadvantages,
+Sara now directed her attention to the advantages she could snatch out
+of the dilemma. At last she hit on a bold plan. She rang a bell and a
+housemaid answered the summons.
+
+"Is Mrs. Parflete in her bedroom?" asked Lady Sara; "and where is her
+bedroom?"
+
+"Her bedroom is next to yours, my lady. She is in there now."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+Sara walked along the corridor till she reached an oak door on which was
+a card bearing the name she sought. She tapped, and heard Brigit herself
+reply--
+
+"Come in."
+
+The young actress was lying, in a black silk dressing-gown, on the sofa.
+Her hair fell loosely to her shoulders, and she had evidently been fast
+asleep, for her cheeks were less pale than usual, her eyes were bright,
+and the happiness of some pleasant dream still lingered in their
+expression.
+
+"Lady Sara--how good of you to come!" she exclaimed; "I have been trying
+to rest. I want to play well this evening."
+
+"You will play beautifully, of course," said Sara, submitting, even in
+her jealousy, to the charm and grace of her unconscious rival. "I have
+come on a difficult errand," she added, abruptly; "you may not
+understand, but I hope--I believe--you will."
+
+She became so pale as she uttered these words that Brigit leant forward
+with a gesture of reassurance. In spite of her fragility she was, from
+the habit of self-control, a stronger spirit.
+
+"You may be sure that I shall understand," she said.
+
+"Forgive me, then, but some enemy has circulated a report that you went
+to Mr. Orange's rooms in Vigo Street last Wednesday."
+
+A deep flush swept over Brigit's face.
+
+"I was not there," she said.
+
+"I know," said Sara. "I know you were not there. They made a mistake. It
+was I they saw--not you--it was I."
+
+Brigit dropped her eyes but made no other movement. She seemed to grow
+rigid, and the hand which had been playing with the fringe of her girdle
+remained fixed in its arrested action.
+
+"You? It was you? How ---- you?"
+
+"I had to see him. So I went to him. Now he can easily deny that you
+were there. But he won't betray me. People must think what they please.
+But I am telling you--because you, at least, ought to know the truth."
+
+"And yet it is not my business!"
+
+"What do you mean? Not your business?"
+
+"How can it be my business to ask what lady went to--to his lodgings?"
+
+"But you would have wondered----"
+
+"Yes, I should have wondered. I could not have helped that."
+
+"Mr. Orange and I have been friends, as you know, for some time. He knew
+me years ago before he--he met you. I was quite a little girl. I
+remember I used to hold his hand when I walked in the gardens by his
+side."
+
+"He has often spoken of you."
+
+"But all this does not help us now. If it were ever known that I--I was
+the one, the other day,--I should be ruined."
+
+"You may be sure that no one shall know."
+
+"I am not so selfish as I seem. I don't forget that this story will
+injure him--injure him terribly. They will think him a kind of Joseph
+Surface--a hypocrite. People expect him to be different from everybody
+else. A piece of gossip which they would have laughed at and taken as a
+matter of course from poor Beauclerk or Charles Aumerle--they would
+resent bitterly in Robert. The thing that grieves me, that torments me,
+is the fear lest this act of mine may injure him."
+
+"It won't injure him," said Brigit. "Have no fear at all. And if you
+went to see him, as you say, you must have had the best of reasons for
+doing so. You may rely, I am sure, on his keeping your name a secret.
+You were kind to tell me--for he certainly would not have told
+me--without your consent. We never see each other now, and we never
+write to each other."
+
+Her voice trembled for the first time.
+
+"How does he look?" she asked, after a sharp struggle between her pride
+and a desire to hear more.
+
+"He looks ill and worn. He over-works."
+
+"He will suffer at Lord Reckage's death."
+
+"But he hides his feelings. He is always reticent."
+
+"O, to see him and talk with him--that would be such a joy for me."
+
+"You must be very sad, often," said Sara, coldly.
+
+"Yes, often," answered Brigit. "And I was so happy during the short time
+we were together that now it seems no part of my life--no part of it. I
+say this because I wish you to know that nothing can make us love each
+other less--that all this misery and separation--which may last as long
+as we live--has made no difference and can make no difference to us. And
+if I never see him again, or speak to him again, he will always be
+certain that I am his--unalterably, for ever his."
+
+"You are little more than a child. You have a great career before
+you--who can say what may happen in the future? Women without careers
+change their minds--their tastes. These things are out of one's own
+control, and in your case----"
+
+"My mind may change, but my soul cannot. I may dance, I may amuse
+myself, I may have friends. Make no mistake. I can tell you all that is
+in me. I find life beautiful. The theatre enchants me. I could work
+there all day. I have no illusions about it--the paint, the machinery,
+the box-office, the advertisements--the vulgarity are familiar enough to
+me. But I find a box-office, and machinery, and vulgarity everywhere,
+though they are called by other names."
+
+Sara coloured and looked away.
+
+"I am getting stronger now," continued Brigit. "I can lift up my head
+and see the world as it is. I like it--yes, with all its griefs and its
+horrors--I like it. When one is ill or sentimental one hates it, because
+it wasn't made for the sick, and it was not created us a playground for
+lovers. One may love--yes, but one must work. I intend to love and work
+at the same time."
+
+"Many find that these two occupations clash! There is a time in
+love--just as there is a period in life--when it seems enough in itself.
+It is independent of circumstances and persons. O, but that time soon
+passes! As you learn more, you look for more. And work is no cure for
+dissatisfaction. If you can live through it you will just be a machine
+with one refrain--'I know nothing! I have nothing! I am nothing!'"
+
+The two young girls did not look at each other. Brigit could recognise
+an agitation of the soul in the imperceptible sadness of the voice, and
+she guessed poor Sara's secret.
+
+"Yes," she said quietly. "I must suffer all that. How can you be sure
+that I have not suffered it already? At any rate, I hope this
+confidence will increase your kindness toward me."
+
+"I have no kindness toward you--none at all," said Sara. "I have no
+kindness toward any living creature. I should like to die and come to an
+end. I wasn't born to put up with make-shifts. Other women may be
+resigned to that paltry way of existing. If they can't have what they
+want, they will take what they don't want; they will take what they
+hate, and grin--yes, they will grin and bear it. And after a little
+while, because they become gradually drunk with suffering, they begin to
+think they are noble. They are not noble. They are fools, fools, fools!"
+
+"I shan't accept make-shifts," answered Brigit. "I intend to keep all my
+ideals, but they are all unfinished at present. I have just the outlines
+and beginnings of them--nothing else."
+
+"I am not talking about ideals. I am speaking of realities. I don't want
+to be happy, but I do wish to be one of four things: either perfectly
+alive, or perfectly, utterly dead; either a pure spirit, or a faultless
+animal. This dead-and-alive, body-and-soul mixture which passes for a
+well-disciplined human being is loathsome to me. It is a tissue of lies
+and hypocrisies."
+
+"Perhaps I should have that feeling, too, if I had no faith in God. He
+assumed humanity--not despising it."
+
+"You know I do not believe that splendid story--so it doesn't help me.
+I compare life as I feel it with life as it is, and the inequality fills
+me with disgust. The example of Christ is too sublime. He was human only
+in His sufferings. He bore our burdens and He shared our agonies. He was
+deceived, despised, rejected: the first torture and the firstfruits of
+His Passion was the treachery of a disciple. When I am sorrowful and
+wretched, He seems Real to me and vivid. But when I am well and wildly
+happy, He seems far away and unreal--an invisible God, watching mortals
+with a certain contempt. Now the Pagans had a Divinity for every mood,
+so they never felt depressed or lowered in their own self-esteem. We
+have a God for two moods only,--great sorrow, and great exaltation. For
+the rest we have to beat our breasts and call ourselves miserable
+sinners. All the good people I know enjoy spiritual peace only--without
+any fear of remorse--when they are tired out or moaning with physical
+pain. I don't say this to shock you; I should like to have a religion if
+I could be convinced of it without fasting, without long illnesses, and
+without abandoning all hope of earthly, common joys. Most Christians
+take a middle way, I know; they prattle about their immortal souls, and
+behave as though they had nothing but bodies. I can't take part in such
+a gross farce."
+
+Brigit sighed deeply, and did not reply at once.
+
+"It is all very hard, I know," she answered; "but from the lowest abyss
+one can still see the sky overhead. People's hearts are touched by the
+spectacle of sin or the spectacle of suffering. Our Lord could not sin,
+therefore He reached our sympathies by His Death and Sorrows. Of course,
+if this life here were all, and this world were the only one, and we
+were animals with less beauty than many of the inanimate things in
+nature, and as much intelligence at best as the bees and birds and
+ants--then the Pagan way might be quite admirable. But this isn't the
+case, and so--and so----"
+
+Sara laughed.
+
+"We are a grotesque compromise between gods and creatures," she said;
+"those of us who find this out get a little impatient with the false
+position. You are less sentimental than I am. You take what I call the
+hard view. It is too frigid for me. But I am making you late. All good
+luck to-night!"
+
+She waved her hand, and, returning to her own room, realised that she
+had missed the object of her conversation. The attempt to excite
+Brigit's jealousy had failed.
+
+Nothing is so infectious as despair. Brigit sat quivering under the echo
+of Sara's last words: "You take what I call the hard view." Was it,
+then, such an easy matter to bury love in perpetual silence, to let
+nature yield to fate, to stifle every human craving? The mention of
+Robert's name and the news that he looked ill and careworn had stirred
+all the unshed tears in her heart; she could not think, she could not
+move, she could but realise that she had no right to be with him. And
+sorrow seemed her province. There, surely, she and he might meet, join
+hands, and speak once more face to face. She had not written to him
+since that parting at Miraflores. But she would write now. This was her
+letter--
+
+     MY DEAREST LIFE--You are my dearest and you are my life--so let me
+     say it now, even if I never say it again. I could be glad (if any
+     gladness were left in me) at your grief for Lord Reckage's death,
+     because it gives me an excuse for breaking my word and writing to
+     you. This is selfish, but nobody knows how much I have suffered, or
+     how much I suffer daily, hourly. I try to believe that it would
+     have been worse if we had never owned our love, never met again
+     after our first meeting. Darling, I can't be sure. Sometimes I wish
+     I had been born quite numb. I dare not complain, and yet it is
+     impossible to feel contented. Always, always there is a dreadful
+     pain in my heart. Every moment is occupied, for when I am not
+     working, I sleep, and when I wake, I work. I would rather spend one
+     perfect day with you and die, than live on without you. This is the
+     truth. If I had any choice that would be my choice. But I know you
+     want me to be courageous, and I myself want you to see that a
+     woman's love can be as strong as a man's. Women are supposed to
+     make men weak--they are supposed to be chains and hindrances. This
+     shan't be said of me. You wouldn't say it: you wouldn't think it:
+     yet in history I find that while a few have been saved by women,
+     more have been ruined by them. And where the women have saved the
+     men they loved, it has been done by great renunciations and
+     sacrifices--not at all by selfishness and joys. When I can remember
+     this (I forget it too easily), I can almost persuade myself that I
+     don't long to see you, to hear your voice, to be with you again on
+     the boat--going on and on toward Miraflores. But I never persuade
+     myself of this entirely--never, never. I do long to see you,
+     Robert: I do want to be with you. I envy the servant in your
+     lodgings, and the friends you meet. And I--who love you so
+     dearly--may not go near you. I am going to act to-night--as if I
+     were not acting all day, every day! I haven't said one word about
+     you. But you couldn't be so wretched as I am, because _you_ have
+     yourself, _you_ know what you are doing, saying, and thinking. Now
+     if I could cease altogether and become, say, your hand or your
+     foot, no one would expect you to renounce me. I might be useful,
+     and it would certainly be no scandal if I accompanied you
+     everywhere! I won't say any more.
+
+                                BRIGIT.
+
+She addressed an envelope and sealed the letter within it. Then, with
+tears streaming down her cheeks, she read her part for the comedy that
+evening. When Esther entered with her dressing-gown, she held up her
+hands in dismay.
+
+"O Madame," said she, "I thought you were going to play an amusing
+piece!"
+
+"It will be very amusing," said Brigit, "but this is the way to rehearse
+it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+The Marquis of Castrillon, meanwhile, was pirouetting sublimely before
+the long mirror in his dressing-room, while his valet, a sour-faced
+individual, looked on in great but gloomy interest. The Marquis was
+superbly dressed in a Louis Seize costume--an exact reproduction of the
+one worn by that monarch on his wedding-day--and he presented a very
+fine figure. In features, expression, colouring, and manner it would
+have been difficult to find, or imagine, a more fascinating puppet. An
+unsurpassable actor of noble parts, he seemed created to play the hero
+in deeds, the poet in thoughts, the lover on all occasions. Confident of
+his attractions, he appeared quite free from vanity: each fresh attitude
+became him better than the last: no light could do less than show the
+classic beauty of his head and body. When he laughed, one could admire
+his magnificent teeth; when he looked grave, one could enjoy the
+splendid serenity of his brow and the passion in his deep brown eyes. It
+was said that his legs alone would have made the plainest man a
+dangerous rival, that his well-cut mouth would have made a monster
+irresistible.
+
+"So you don't think," said he, as he executed a final bow and kicked off
+his shoes because a buckle stuck into his instep--"so you don't think,
+Isidore, that Her Imperial Highness loves me?"
+
+"I know she doesn't," replied his man. "I am not going to say that I see
+more than I see."
+
+"It may be that she cannot love," said the Marquis, "and I don't think
+less of her on that account. These sentimental girls become very
+monotonous and sickening. The women whom men love the longest are prim,
+stand-off women. Have you noticed that, Isidore?"
+
+"No, I haven't noticed that. I haven't noticed much love lasting long
+for any kind of person."
+
+"There's something in your stupidity which refreshes me. I have a strong
+notion to marry Her Imperial Highness. I could make her happy."
+
+"Not you."
+
+"I tell you I could. She has the oddest effect upon me. No other woman
+has ever affected me in such a way. I feel when I am with her as though
+we were well matched. If I were a King, I would make her my Queen. I
+might love others, but I should always say, 'Remember the Queen. The
+Queen must be remembered, and honoured, and obeyed in all things.'
+Sometimes I see myself--with her--at a kind of Versailles: every one
+standing up as we enter: Her Majesty very pale and tall and wonderful
+in a blue velvet robe and pearls, I would adore her with a passion as
+constant as it was respectful. I should ask in return _une amitie la
+plus tendre_. Isidore, she is an angel. The sweetness of her soul is in
+her face--in the very sound of her voice. I am a little too material to
+be so sublime in my sentiments as M. de Hausee, but I could be unusually
+faithful to that charming, beautiful creature. Isn't there a crease
+under my left arm? Hold the glass for me."
+
+Isidore held the glass while Castrillon, with knit brows, studied the
+back view of his coat.
+
+"The coat is perfect," said Isidore; "you have no heart or you would
+never find fault with such a back."
+
+"Would you call me heartless?"
+
+"I couldn't call you anything else," replied the valet, bluntly.
+
+"Then why have you been with me, cat-fish, ever since I was born?"
+
+The Marquis had a stock of names for his servant, none of which he
+employed unless he felt in a good humour. Owl-pig, hog-mouse, ape-dog,
+rat-weasel, and cat-fish were the highest expressions of his amiability
+toward the man who had been his ill-tempered, dishonest, impudent, and
+treacherous attendant all the years of his life.
+
+"You know, mule-viper," he continued, "that no one else would keep you
+for five minutes. You are a liar, a thief, and a traitor. Yet I endure
+you. I agree that I must be either heartless or an idiot to put up with
+such a rogue."
+
+Isidore grew livid, muttered blasphemies under his breath, and put pink
+cotton-wool in the toes of his master's dancing-shoes. Castrillon then
+kicked him into the adjoining room and resumed his gymnastic exercises.
+At the end of half an hour, the man re-entered carrying a note
+fastidiously between his left thumb and forefinger.
+
+"Is that for me?" asked the Marquis, who was in the act of turning a
+double somersault with much agility.
+
+"It is for Monsieur."
+
+"Then read it aloud while I stand on my head."
+
+Isidore tore it open and began to read as follows:--
+
+"_Do not misjudge me----_"
+
+"Stop!" exclaimed Castrillon, falling upon his feet at once; "that is
+from a woman. Why didn't you say so?"
+
+"It is from Madame Parflete," replied Isidore.
+
+"Impossible!" said Castrillon, snatching it from his hand; "impossible!"
+
+He read the letter, flushed to the roots of his hair, and kicked Isidore
+for the second time.
+
+"You beast!" said he; "where did you get this? It is her writing, but
+she never wrote it--never on God's earth! Where did you get it?"
+
+"It was given to me by one of her servants."
+
+"Why the devil do you tell me such lies?" exclaimed the young man in a
+fury; "it's some d----d practical joke in the most infernal bad taste,
+and, by God! I have a mind to shoot you."
+
+Castrillon was not given to the utterance of vain threats, and his anger
+was so great that the wretched Isidore, shaking, whining, and cursing,
+edged round the room with his back to the wall and his eyes fixed on his
+master.
+
+"Stand still, will you?" continued the Marquis; "I want to hear a little
+more. How much were you paid for giving me this twaddle? Answer me
+that."
+
+"Two guineas!"
+
+"Two? I'll bet you had twenty. Stand still, I tell you, or I'll kick you
+again. Do you expect me to believe that Mrs. Parflete's servant gave you
+twenty guineas?"
+
+"No, I don't," answered Isidore. "I don't expect you to believe
+anything. But if that isn't Madame Parflete's writing, whose writing is
+it?"
+
+"That is just what I mean to find out," replied Castrillon, "and that is
+why I won't shoot you till it suits my convenience."
+
+Isidore, who had a venomous attachment to the Marquis, burst into tears.
+For many generations their respective ancestors had stood in the
+relation, each to the other, of tyrant and dependent. Isidore's father
+had robbed, cheated, deceived, and adored Castrillon's father; the
+fathers of these two reprobates had observed the same measure of
+whippings and treacheries, and so it had been always from the first
+registered beginnings of the noble and the slavish house. But an Isidore
+had never been known to leave a Castrillon's service. The hereditary,
+easy-going forbearance, on the one hand, which found killing less
+tedious than a crude dismissal, and the hereditary guilty conscience, on
+the other, which had to recognise the justice of punishment, kept the
+connection rudely loyal.
+
+"I detest you," said Castrillon; "I hate the sight of you."
+
+Isidore blubbered aloud, and accepted the information as a turn for the
+better in the tide of his master's wrath.
+
+"Who gave you that letter?"
+
+"Well, if you must know, it was Signor Mudara."
+
+"Mudara? Then Mudara wrote it. I'll wring his neck."
+
+"I'll wring his neck, too--if he has tried any of his games on me,"
+sobbed Isidore. "But it may not be a game. You are always so hasty."
+
+Castrillon read the letter through once more.
+
+"I can't believe that she wrote it," he said. "I'll swear she didn't."
+
+"And why?"
+
+"Because the style is not in keeping with her character, blockhead! She
+does not ask me--or any one else--to visit her at two o'clock in the
+morning."
+
+A revolting smile made the valet's loose-hanging, sullen lips quiver
+with emotion.
+
+"No, that is not Madame's style. She is too clever. But does that affect
+the opportunity!"
+
+"What opportunity?"
+
+"You have the letter. It is for Madame herself to deny the
+handwriting--not you. Why should you, of all people, think it a joke?
+Why not act upon it? Why not ask her what it means?"
+
+"At two in the morning? I have no wish to compromise Madame--not the
+least. She is too rich to compromise. She is the sort of lady one
+marries. Tell Mudara, with my compliments, he must understand gentlemen
+before he can play successful tricks upon them."
+
+"I will take my oath that I am not sure it is a trick," answered
+Isidore.
+
+Castrillon studied the letter for a third time.
+
+"Here and there," he said, "it has the ring of her voice, and the words
+are the words she uses."
+
+"With such a justification in my pocket, I know what I should do,"
+mumbled Isidore.
+
+"So do I. But you are the scum of the earth, and what you would, or
+wouldn't do, could only interest the hangman."
+
+The Marquis locked the note in his dressing-case, and handed his keys,
+with his usual simplicity, to Isidore.
+
+"I do not propose to tire myself with this nonsense before the play,"
+said he. "Get my raw eggs and milk."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At nine o'clock that evening, a brilliant company were gathered in the
+Salle de Comedie. Most of the Foreign Ambassadors, and about fifty
+illustrious personages of great social importance, were present. Prince
+d'Alchingen had resolved that the daughter of Henriette Duboc should
+have every opportunity of making a successful _debut_ in England. He had
+sprinkled most judiciously among his guests a few accredited experts in
+various departments of knowledge, and these he hoped would lead
+appreciation into the right channel by explaining, at fit intervals,
+just why Mrs. Parflete was beautiful and just where her art had its
+especial distinction. The play itself--_La Seconde Surprise de
+l'Amour_--by Pierre de Marivaux, was quite unknown to the audience.
+Brigit and Castrillon had appeared in it at Madrid, and descriptions of
+their success were whispered through the room. The story of her birth,
+her unhappy marriage, her adventures in Spain, and her relations with De
+Hausee had quickened curiosity to the highest pitch. Was she really so
+young? was she really so pretty? was she going on the public stage, or
+would she remain an accomplished, semi-royal amateur? No one referred
+openly to the late Archduke Charles, but the facts that Madame Duboc had
+been his Canonical wife, that Mrs. Parflete was the one child of their
+union, kept the whole aristocratic assembly thrilled with the sense of
+taking part in something as distinguished as a Court function, as
+exciting as a Court scandal, and as bewildering as a Court conspiracy. A
+string orchestra--conducted by Strauss himself--played French melodies
+of the eighteenth century. Would there be any dancing? would she sing?
+Henriette Duboc had been compared, as a dancer, to La Guimard, said Sir
+Piers Harding to the Duchess of Lossett. And who was La Guimard? asked
+the Duchess. And was Mrs. Parflete at all like her mother? And did she
+bear the extraordinary resemblance, _of which so much had been made_, to
+Marie Antoinette? Sir Piers felt bound to own that the likeness was
+remarkable. And this de Hausee--what of him? Had Sir Piers seen the odd
+announcement, about his name and antecedents, in the _Times_? The
+Duchess didn't know what to think. It was all so very odd, but most
+interesting, of course. Was M. de Hausee, by any chance, in the
+audience? No. Well, perhaps it was better taste on his part to keep
+away. The bell rang. All eyes turned toward the blue satin curtains;
+they moved: the lights were lowered; the violins played a languorous
+air: with a rustle--not unlike that caused by the movement of wings--the
+curtains were drawn back and disclosed an empty garden. Then, following
+the stage direction, the Marquise entered "_tristement sur la scene_."
+The entrance was made quietly, and, for a breathless second, no one
+realised that the heroine of the evening had at last appeared. Her
+Grace of Lossett began to fear she felt a little disappointed when, in
+the nick of time, a great poet, who sat near her, murmured, "Divine."
+
+But at this point we may quote from the _Memoirs_ of Lady Julia
+Babington:--
+
+     _Mrs. Parflete's personal appearance caused an immediate furore.
+     Many disagreed about her claims to perfect beauty, but these
+     hostile feelings did not last longer than five minutes. She was an
+     extremely pretty woman; rather tall for her slight proportions, but
+     elegant to a surprising degree. The extraordinary charm of her
+     acting, her voice, her countenance, and her accent were delightful.
+     It would have been impossible to display more grace, simplicity,
+     and ingenuousness than she did: she gave several touches of pathos
+     in a manner to make one cry, and to quite enchant all who bad taste
+     enough and mind to appreciate her inimitable talent._
+
+And again in the Letters of Charlotte, Lady Pardwicke, we read:--
+
+     _If Mrs. Parflete can be called handsome, it is certainly a _figure
+     de fantasie_. She has a clear complexion, is young, tall; her
+     manners are _doucereuses_, for, besides being a beauty, she has
+     pretensions, I understand, to _bel-esprit_. The majority of those
+     present were undeniably captivated by her peculiar fascination._
+
+Augustus Barfield has the following remarks in his famous Journal:--
+
+     _There were no two opinions about the success of the _debutante_.
+     We had been led to expect a good deal, but fortunately every
+     description proved inaccurate, so, while she utterly failed to
+     realise any single preconceived idea, she had the great advantage
+     of appearing as some one wholly new. Rumour had prepared me equally
+     for a St. Elizabeth, a Mademoiselle Mars, a Marie-Antoinette, a
+     Recamier, or a Sophie Arnould. She resembled none of these
+     ladies--being far more tragic in her nature than the rather sensual
+     Queen of France, and she is clearly an uncommon individual in her
+     own right. The women will squabble about her looks; the men will
+     have views about her figure: all must agree that her fortune on the
+     stage is assured. A more pleasing performance I never saw. Love,
+     innocence, tenderness, grief, joy, petulance, uncertainty, modesty,
+     despair--every feminine attribute, in fact, showed to admiration in
+     her expressive features. Voice, bewitching. Gestures, exquisite.
+     All, in fact, was truly enjoyable. I would not have missed the
+     evening on any account._
+
+Orange, it is true, had not joined the general company. But Prince
+d'Alchingen for reasons of his own, however, had offered the young man a
+seat in the one small box which had a gilded _grille_ before it and was
+so made that it seemed part of the massive decoration.
+
+"You cannot be seen," said the Prince; "I won't tell her that you are
+present; and I give you my word of honour that I won't tell anybody--not
+even my wife."
+
+The temptation was irresistible. Robert accepted the invitation, and as
+he watched the play, it seemed to him that he had never known Brigit
+till that evening. He had seen her in dreams--yes; and talked to her in
+dreams, yes; but now at last she lived--a real creature. Lost in the
+part, she was able to throw aside the self-restraint which had given
+her always a cold, almost sexless quality. Her face betrayed a hundred
+changing emotions: the youth, strength, and passion so severely
+repressed in her own life came out, though still controlled, with full
+and perfect harmony in her art. It was one of those consummate
+revelations of temperament which, in silent or inactive lives, never
+come till the last hours before death--when in one look or one utterance
+all the time lost and all the long-concealed feelings take their
+reparation from existence. But with those who may express their true
+characters through the medium of some creative faculty, the illuminated
+moment comes at a psychic crisis--not to enforce the irony of death but
+to demonstrate and intensify the richness of humanity. The knowledge
+which depends upon suffering, and, in a way, springs from it, is good,
+yet it must always be incomplete. Happiness has its light also, and in
+order to get the right explanation of any soul, or to understand the
+eternal meaning of any situation, one must have had at least a few glad
+hours, felt the ecstasy of thoughtless joy, drifted a little while with
+the rushing, unhindered tide. As Robert, behind the _grille_, watched
+the animated, beautiful girl who seemed to typify the very springtime of
+the world, he felt he had peered too long at love and life through bars.
+He would have to break them, get on the other side, and join in the
+dazzling action. How unreal and far-away seemed all grief, remorse, or
+anxiety from that brilliant scene! Brigit was laughing, singing,
+dancing--fulfilling, surely enough, her real vocation. What! at
+seventeen, was she to sit pale, silent, tearful, and alone? At his age,
+was he to look on--with a dead heart and unseeing eyes, murmuring words
+of tame submission to a contemptuous Fate? His whole nature rose up in
+revolt, and the self he had once abdicated rushed back to him, howling
+out taunts which were not the less bitter because they were false. Not
+pausing to wonder whether the present were a profanation of the past, or
+the past an insipid forecast of the present, he was conscious only that
+a change--perhaps a terrible change--had taken place in his mind--a
+change so sudden and so violent that it had paralysed every power of
+analysis and reflection. Imaginative love--made up of renunciation and
+spirituality, gave way to the fierce desire to live, to silence the
+intolerable wisdom of the conscience, and learn folly for a space. He
+was madly jealous of Castrillon, who gazed into Brigit's eyes and
+uttered his lines with the most touching air of passionate devotion. She
+seemed to respond, and, in fact, their joint performance had that
+delicate, irresistible abandon--apparently unconscious and
+unpremeditated--which is only possible between two players who are not
+in love with each other. Where there is actual feeling, there is always
+a certain awkwardness and want of conviction (partly caused by the
+inadequacy of the diagram in comparison with the reality), and the
+charm, so far as art is concerned, is wholly lost. An acted love was the
+only love possible between Brigit and Castrillon; hence its sincerity on
+the stage, where, as a merely assumed thing, it harmonised perfectly
+with its artificial surroundings--the canvas landscape, the painted
+trees, the mechanical birds, and the sunlight produced by tricks of
+gauze and gas. But Orange did not stop to consider this. It was enough
+and too much to see his "sad spirit of the elfin race" completely
+transformed. Was this the child-like, immature being of their strange
+visit to Miraflores? That whole episode seemed a kind of phantasy--a
+Midsummer Night's music--nothing more, perhaps something less. The very
+title of the play--_The Second Surprise of Love_--carried a mocking
+significance. Sometimes the soul speaks first, sometimes the senses
+first influence a life, but the turn, soon or late, must inevitably come
+for each, and the man or woman, sick of materialism, who begins to
+suspect that the unseen world and its beauty is an inheritance more
+lasting and more to be desired than all the vindictive joys of this
+prison-house, has no such bitterness as the idealist who finds himself
+brought into thrilling touch with the physical loveliness, the actual
+enchantment, the undeniable delight of certain things in life. The
+questions, "What have I missed? What have I lost? What birthright have I
+renounced?" are bound to make themselves heard. They beat upon the heart
+like hail upon the sand--and fall buried in the scars they cause.
+Things of the flesh may and do become dead sea fruit; but things of the
+spirit often become stale and meaningless also. What is more weary than
+a tired mind? What joys and labours are more exhausting than those of
+the intellect, and the intellect only? Does an idle week in summer ever
+beget more lassitude or such disgust of life as a month--alone with
+books--in a library? Dissatisfaction and satiety, melancholy and fatigue
+show as plainly in the pages of a Kempis as they do in Schopenhauer, as
+they do in Lucretius, as they do in St. Bernard, as they do in
+Montaigne, in Marcus Aurelius, in Dante, in St. Teresa. They are,
+indeed, the ever-recurrent cries in human feeling, the ever-recurrent
+phases in human thought. Uninterrupted contentment was never yet found
+in any calling or state; the saints were haggard with combats; sleep,
+the most reposeful state we know, has its fearful sorrows, hideous
+terrors, pursuing uncertainties. Robert's spirit, stimulated by
+jealousy, played round these reflections, common enough at all times,
+but, as all common things, overwhelming at the first moment of their
+complete realisation. The original frame of his mind joined a defiance
+of formal precedent and an intense openness to every fine pleasure of
+sense with an impatience of all that makes for secrecy and an abhorrence
+of the substitutes which are sometimes basely, sometimes madly, accepted
+in default of true objects. He could not desire the star and find
+solace in the glow-worm--pursue Isolde and lag by the way with Moll
+Flanders. It was true that he had resolved to put stars and Isolde alike
+from his life. It was true that he had bound himself to certain fair
+ambitions beyond the determinations of calculation and experience. It
+was true that he had resolved to sacrifice this world to the next. He
+knew the claims which the world to come has upon us. But did he know the
+world he was renouncing? How that doubt opened the way to further
+doubts! Was he a fool for his pains? Was an enfeebling and afflicting of
+the natural man so necessary to the exaltation of the soul? Was the soul
+in itself so weak that it could only rest decently in a sick body? Could
+it only wish for something greater than this earth can give by being
+artificially saddened?
+
+Such questions have their answers, but they do not occur very readily to
+young men hopelessly in love and half out of their wits with jealousy.
+He might have taken refuge in prayer, but at that moment he did not want
+to pray. He wanted to think about himself, to be himself throughout the
+entire reach of his consciousness, to lose himself in the tempest of
+emotion which seemed to drive out, beat, and shatter every hindrance to
+its furious sweep. A smouldering fire is for a while got under, and yet
+by suppression is but thrown in, to spread more widely and deeply than
+before. So his fatal affection, perhaps pitilessly fought down in the
+first instance--asserted its power--its power for evil. Not to love was
+not to live. He was dead while he lived. He could not find peace in an
+invisible world of which he did not see any more even a shadow round
+about him. _Shall not the day of the Lord be darkness and not light?
+even very dark, and no brightness in it?_ He did not believe that. What
+miserable scruples to torment, blind, and pollute the soul! Pascal has
+written that there are thousands who sin without regret, who sin with
+gladness, who feel no warning and no interior desire not to sin. They
+doubted, hated, loved, acted, felt, and thought just as they pleased.
+Perhaps they were not happy, but if they received the punishment of
+wrong-doing, the wrong at least was committed out of fetters and
+joyously. It is not until men find themselves assailed by a strong wish
+that they perceive how very still and very small, all but inaudible, the
+still, small voice can be. A moment comes when one ceases to think--one
+wills, and if one is able and the will is sufficiently determined, the
+purpose is carried into effect. Temptations to steal, to lie, to
+deceive, to gamble, to excess in drink and the like cannot approach a
+certain order of mind. But the craving for knowledge and a fuller
+life--either in a spiritual or the human way--is implanted ineradicably
+in every soul, and while it may rest inert and seem nullified in a kind
+of apathy, the craving is there--to be aroused surely enough at some
+dangerous hour. And of all the dangerous hours in life, the hour of
+disappointed love is the most critical. Calm spectators of mortal folly
+who have been satisfactorily married for twenty years and more, who have
+sons to provide for and daughters to establish, cherish a disdain of
+love-stories and boast that they have no patience with morbidity.
+Love--which put them into being and keeps the earth in existence--seems
+to all such a silly malady peculiar to the sentimental in early youth.
+So they put the First Cause--in one of its many manifestations--in the
+waste-paper basket, asking each other what will become of Charles if he
+cannot find a rich wife, and poor Alice, if she cannot entrap a suitable
+husband. But there are others who look on life with some hope of
+understanding it truly, in part, at any rate, and these know, perhaps by
+experience, perhaps by sympathy, that whereas bodily disturbances may
+pass away leaving little or no effect upon the general health, all
+mental tumults are perpetual in their consequences: they never die out
+entirely, and they live, sometimes with appalling energy, sometimes with
+gnawing listlessness, to the end of an existence. Robert, in the
+judgment of his intellect and his senses, had found his ideal. Brigit
+did not belong to "the despised day of small things"; she was the woman
+of his imagination--the well-beloved, and having gained her, was he to
+say--Farewell? It seemed so. Meanwhile, the graceful, swaying dialogue
+rippled between the players on the stage; the smiling audience, hushed
+with interest, gazed at the delightful beings before them; the
+exquisite Marquise had uttered her two last speeches--
+
+    "_Je ne croyois pas l'amitie si dangereuse._"
+
+and--
+
+    "_Je ne me mele plus de rien!_"
+
+Lubin brought the performance to an end by the final utterance--
+
+    "_Allons de la joie!_"
+
+The curtain fell--to rise again a dozen times. Orange did not hear the
+door of the box being opened. Prince d'Alchingen came in and put a hand
+on the young man's shoulder.
+
+"Would you like to see her?" he whispered. "I can arrange it. No one
+need know."
+
+But the training of a lifetime and constant habits of thought were
+stronger still than any mood.
+
+"No," said Robert, shortly, "I won't see her. I must get back to London
+at once."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+The Prince looked at him in astonishment.
+
+"You can't get to London to-night," said he; "there are no trains."
+
+"I can walk."
+
+"It is thirty-five miles."
+
+"I am accustomed to long walks."
+
+"At any rate you will have some supper first--in my little
+breakfast-room. Don't refuse, because I want you to meet Castrillon."
+
+"Castrillon! I should like to meet Castrillon."
+
+"Then I will tell him. You and he can take supper together. He doesn't
+want to join the big party. He has the artist's detestation of the
+chattering mob. How well he plays! And what a triumph for--Madame!"
+
+"A great triumph."
+
+"This corridor leads to my tiny cupboard--the merest cupboard! Follow
+me." They went through several doors and up several small staircases
+till they reached a small apartment furnished in old blue damask,
+heavily fringed with tarnished gold and silver decorations.
+
+"A few souvenirs of my hereditary castle in Alberia," explained the
+Prince; "they relieve my sense of exile."
+
+He walked across the floor and tapped on what appeared to be a portion
+of the wall.
+
+"We are here," said he.
+
+The secret door was opened, and Castrillon, still wearing his costume as
+the Chevalier, joined them. If one may believe Prince d'Alchingen's
+account of this unfortunate meeting, the young men greeted each other
+with composure. D'Alchingen declares that he studied Orange to the
+depths of his soul, and he does him the justice to say that he did not
+make a movement or utter a word which denoted the least emotion. There
+was not any sort of alteration in his countenance, and he led the
+conversation with a tranquillity and a gaiety really enchanting. When
+the supper was served, His Excellency had no hesitation in leaving the
+rivals together--so convinced was he that they would remain on good
+terms.
+
+"M. de Castrillon," said Orange, when the Prince had gone, "I cannot sit
+down at supper with you. We have to settle an old score."
+
+Castrillon bowed:
+
+"I am here to learn your wishes. I have heard from several sources that
+you wished to see me. If you have anything to say, pray say it quickly,
+because--I have an appointment with Mrs. Parflete."
+
+"Will you do me the favour to leave that lady's name out of the
+discussion?"
+
+"I see no reason why I should do you favours, M. de Hausee. But I am
+quite ready to atone for my indifference by any course of action which
+could satisfy the most scrupulous delicacy."
+
+"There is but one course of action open to us."
+
+"I shall be happy to have the honour of meeting you on your own terms.
+But," he added, contemptuously, "we are both wasting our time over a
+worthless woman. She was seen leaving your lodgings on Wednesday last. I
+have just heard this. And I received, before the play began this
+evening, a letter from her fixing a _rendez-vous_ for two o'clock. If
+you doubt me I can show you the letter. I am as much disappointed as you
+are. She has fooled us both. Before God I could have sworn she was a
+religious and modest woman."
+
+His chagrin was so genuine that it was impossible to doubt his good
+faith.
+
+"It is a lie," said Orange; "she was never at my lodgings."
+
+"I don't call _you_ a liar, M. de Hausee, but I can prove my words,
+whereas it might be difficult to prove yours. I can show you the
+letter."
+
+"She never wrote it."
+
+Castrillon sat on the edge of the table, and poured out some wine.
+
+"That is what I said," he replied, "when I read it. So long as we are
+going to fight, let it be because we hate each other, and not because we
+have both been deceived by the same prude."
+
+"In other words," said Orange, quietly, "you wish to drive a good
+bargain, knowing that whether you utter one insult or twenty, I can but
+fight you once."
+
+"_A l'outrance_, however," answered Castrillon, dipping a biscuit into
+the glass.
+
+"Yes, _a l'outrance_."
+
+"This being the case, let me tell you a few of my ideas. You find life
+very hard. I find it altogether amusing. I don't love a woman the less
+when I cease to honour her. I don't honour a man the less when I detest
+him. If you should kill me, M. de Hausee, it will be the most
+respectable occurrence in my immortality. But if I should kill you, it
+will be the vile conclusion of an exemplary career."
+
+"Your conversation is most entertaining, Monsieur. I am, unhappily, in
+no mood to listen to it. May I ask you to meet me to-morrow with your
+second at three o'clock at Calais? We can then go on to Dunkerque and
+settle this difference."
+
+"I am perfectly agreeable."
+
+They arranged a few more details and parted. The interview, which took
+place in French, is not easily reproduced in English. Orange wrote one
+account of the scene, and Castrillon confided another to Prince
+d'Alchingen, and the above is probably as nearly as possible a faithful
+description of what actually passed.
+
+Robert left Hadley Lodge, and plunged through the darkness toward
+London. He reached Vigo Street about seven o'clock in the morning. It
+was Sunday, and the streets were silent. He let himself into the house
+with a latch-key, and groped his way up the creaking unlit staircase. On
+entering his room, the draught between the open window and the door set
+all his papers whirling from his writing-table, and, by a strange
+accident, dislodged his crucifix from its nail. It fell to the ground,
+and when he picked it up, the small Figure was broken. This accident
+seemed an ill omen, but he put it from his thoughts, and scrawled a
+hasty letter to Charles Aumerle, asking him to be his second. This he
+delivered himself at Aumerle's chambers in St. James's Place, saying
+that he would call for an answer at nine. But Aumerle, ever fond of
+adventures, was at Vigo Street at half-past eight.
+
+"If you are bent upon it," said he, "I will do everything in my power to
+see it through. I think you are quite right. Every one will say the
+same."
+
+The two left for Calais by the first boat that morning. Castrillon, and
+Isidore, and a young Frenchman, M. de Lamoignon, were on board also. At
+Calais the two seconds conferred, and the duel was arranged to take
+place in a field near Dunkerque on the following morning. On the
+following morning, the four men met. The combatants were placed at
+fifteen paces from each other. They fired simultaneously and Castrillon
+fell--mortally wounded.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+
+Brigit returned on Monday to Pensee at Curzon Street. It was the
+anniversary of Lord Fitz Rewes's death. The two women went to Catesby,
+where they visited his grave together, prayed together, and, in the
+quiet evening, sat by the library fire.
+
+"This is a great contrast for you after all the excitement on Saturday
+night," said Pensee. "You are full of surprises, Brigit. Few young
+girls, having made such a brilliant success, would care to spend their
+time with poor, dull women like me. They would naturally wish to enjoy
+the triumph."
+
+Brigit's eyes filled with tears.
+
+"I know what you mean, _cher coeur_," she answered, "but there are no
+triumphs for any artist. We suffer and we work--sometimes we are able to
+please. But we suffer and work because we must; whereas we please by the
+merest accident."
+
+"That is true, no doubt. One might as well speak of a successful saint
+as a successful artist. Every saint is not canonized, and every artist
+is not praised. But surely appreciation is a help."
+
+"Yes, dearest; and I am grateful for it. And it gives encouragement to
+one's friends!"
+
+"Let us suppose that they had not cared for your acting, dear child.
+What then?"
+
+"I should have known that it was my vocation just the same. Don't
+believe that I shan't have my full share of doubts and struggles. This
+little first step makes me the more anxious about my next."
+
+The older woman looked at her, and sighed deeply.
+
+"You are too young to know life so well! I am sure you have suffered
+more severely than any of us--who say more and cry more. Your face has
+changed a good deal in the last day or two. In one way, it isn't so
+pretty as it was."
+
+"No one can look quite so plain as I can look, Pensee," she answered,
+laughing.
+
+"Let me finish what I had in my mind! You are not so pretty--not so much
+like a picture. But when I see you now, I don't think about your
+features at all. I watch your expressions--they suggest the whole world
+to me--all the things I have thought and felt. Rachel's face is like
+that. I am sure now that you were meant to be an actress. I have been
+very stupid. How I wish I understood you better, and could be more of a
+friend. I don't understand Robert entirely. Do you?"
+
+"Yes, I understand him."
+
+"I wonder how you came to love each other. I suppose it happened for the
+best. But it seems such a pity"--she paused and then repeated the
+words--"it seems such a pity that all doesn't come right--in the
+old-fashioned way."
+
+"It has come right, dear," said Brigit; "perfectly right."
+
+"You try to think so."
+
+"I know it. His father sinned, and my father sinned. We were born for
+unhappiness. Unhappiness and misgivings are in our very blood."
+
+"But how unjust!"
+
+"No, dearest, on the contrary, it is strict justice. The laws of the
+universe are immutable. You might as well ask that fire should only burn
+sometimes--that it may be water, or air, or earth to suit sentimental
+occasions."
+
+"I don't like to see you so sensible--it's--it's _unlikely_."
+
+Brigit smiled at the word--a favourite one with Pensee when persons and
+events differed from the serene, unreasoned fiction which she called her
+experience.
+
+"How can you call anything unlikely?" asked the girl. "I ought never to
+have been born at all, and Life has made no provision for me. She is
+boisterous and homely--like a housekeeper at an inn. She doesn't know
+me, and she has prepared no room for me. But I may rest on the
+staircase--that's under shelter at least."
+
+"What whimsical ideas, darling!"
+
+"Ah, to feel as I feel, you must have had my parents. You mustn't
+suppose that I woke up one morning and saw the reason for all my
+troubles. The reason did not come as though it were the sun shining into
+the room. Oh, no! I found no answer for a long, long time. But I feel it
+now. My father could not take me into his world, and my mother's
+world--_I_ could not take. They wished to know that I was protected, so
+they found some one who knew the story, and knew both worlds. I was
+grateful, because I didn't understand. And when I understood I was still
+grateful, but I couldn't accept the terms. My marriage was not so
+terrible as many marriages. Yet it was terrible enough. Don't let us
+talk of it, Pensee. It is hopeless to quarrel with logic. Science is
+calm--as calm as the hills."
+
+"And Robert?" said the older woman. "What about Robert?"
+
+"His father was a Dominican. The Church will have her own again. Be
+quite sure of that!
+
+    _'Thy justice is like the great mountains.
+      Thy judgments are a great deep.'_
+
+In God's way, all will come right. Every debt must be paid."
+
+Although they had arranged to journey back to London the following day,
+the woods and gardens looked so fair, the peace of that house was so
+great, that they lingered there till Wednesday. Brigit was unusually
+silent. She sat for hours at the library window looking across the
+Channel toward France, her countenance drawn and white, all its
+loveliness departed.
+
+Once she spoke--
+
+"I know that Robert is in sorrow."
+
+"Are you anxious? Shall I write?" asked Pensee, secretly troubled also.
+
+"No, I am not anxious. There is sorrow, but I am not anxious."
+
+Her room adjoined Pensee's, and, in the night, Pensee, sleepless, heard
+her walking to and fro, with even steps, till sunrise. When they met in
+the morning, Brigit seemed to have aged by ten years. Her youth
+returned, but the character of her face had altered for ever. She was
+never called pretty again. It was said that she varied and depended
+wholly on her moods. She could make herself anything, but nature had
+given her little more than a pair of eyes, a nose, and a
+mouth--indifferent good. Lady Fitz Rewes was appalled at the
+transformation. Remembering stories of the last dreadful touches of
+consumption, she feared for the girl's health. "She will die before
+long," she thought. But death can occur more than once in one life. The
+passing away of every strong emotion means a burial and a grave, a
+change, and a resurrection. The tearful, dusty, fiery, airy process must
+be endured seventy times seven and more, and more again--from
+everlasting to everlasting. And the cause is nothing, the motives are
+nothing, the great, great affliction and the child's little woe pass
+alike through the Process--for the Process belongs to the eternal law,
+whereas the rest is of the heart's capacity.
+
+The way to the city--through the beautiful south of England, beautiful
+at all seasons of the year and sad also at all seasons--brought
+something which resembled calm to both their minds. Dwellings closely
+packed together destroy, or disturb, the finer vision of the grandeur,
+sternness, and depth of life. At Catesby, the solitude and the waves
+exercised their power over the spirit, diverting it from trivial
+speculations to awe and wonder. There, where the unseen could move
+freely and the invisible manifest itself on the perpetual rocks, the
+towering trees, the still green fields, and the vast acres of the sea,
+one could hear the dreaming prophet proclaim the burden of the Lord; and
+the voice of mirth and the voice of gladness, the voice of the
+bridegroom and the voice of the bride, the sound of the mill-stones and
+the light of the candle mattered not. But the kingdom of all the
+worlds--the worlds and habitations not made with hands--rose up as the
+real theatre of man's destiny and the fit measure of his achievements.
+It is that sense of the eternity of consequences--and that sense
+only--which can satisfy the human heart. Time is too short, this planet
+is too small, and this mortal body is too weak for the surging thoughts,
+the unintelligible desires of the soul. Nothing less than infinity can
+hallow emotions: their passingness--which seems the rule in the fever
+and turmoil of city life--is not their abatement but their degradation.
+Change they must, but perish utterly they may not.
+
+The women travellers, as the lights of the capital grew more numerous,
+and the roar of the traffic louder and more constant, drew back within
+themselves, assuming, unconsciously, the outward bearing--fatigued,
+sceptical, and self-distrustful--of the town-bred. When they reached
+Curzon Street, the two heaps of letters, the telegrams and cards on the
+hall-table symbolised crudely enough the practical side of daily
+affairs. One name--an unknown one--among the many engraved on the white
+scraps caught Brigit's attention at once:
+
+                                _The Rev. J. M. Foster._
+
+"That gentleman is a priest, Madam," said the butler; "he will call
+again this evening. I told him that we expected you and her Ladyship
+about seven."
+
+For some reason she felt alarmed. All that day and the night before she
+had been agitated by an inexplicable dread of strange tidings. She went
+to her room, but, without removing her travelling cloak or her hat, she
+sat down on the edge of her bed, waiting for some summons. Presently it
+came. Father Foster was in the library with Lady Fitz Rewes. Would Mrs.
+Parflete see him? She went down, and Pensee stood watching for her at
+the open door.
+
+"My poor child!" she said, with a sob in her voice, as she drew Brigit
+into the room. "My poor child," she repeated, "Father Foster has come to
+tell us that--that Mr. Parflete died last night."
+
+The priest stepped forward with the decision, and also the stern
+kindness, of those accustomed to break hard messages.
+
+"He was injured in a quarrel, and died from the effect of the wound. He
+declined to give any particulars of the affair, and I fear we must call
+it a mystery. He asked me to say that his last words to you were these:
+_Amate da cui male aveste_--Love those from whom ye have had evil."
+
+He looked at her compassionately as he spoke, wondering, no doubt, how
+great the evil had been.
+
+"Can I go to him?" asked Brigit; "where is he?"
+
+"Where he died--in his room at the hotel."
+
+"I will go with you," said Pensee. She held Brigit's hand, and exchanged
+a long glance with Father Foster.
+
+"Did you say," she asked, "that he left any letters or papers?"
+
+"He destroyed all his papers, but he has left one letter addressed to
+you. He wished me to say, in the presence of Mrs. Parflete, that this
+had reference to some false report about her visiting Mr. Orange's
+lodgings. Mr. Parflete saw the lady who went to Vigo Street, and he did
+not know who she was. One thing, however, he did know: he had never seen
+her before."
+
+Brigit inclined her head, but remained motionless, where she first
+halted when she entered the room.
+
+"Did he die in pain?" she asked.
+
+"I am afraid he suffered greatly."
+
+"Was his mind at peace?"
+
+"I believe so--from my heart."
+
+"He had less to fear from God than man."
+
+"The justice of God is severe," said the priest, "but He can never make
+mistakes. The hardest cruelties in this life are the mistakes which we
+commit in judging others--perhaps in judging ourselves."
+
+"The carriage is at the door," whispered Pensee, touching Brigit's arm.
+"Shall we go?"
+
+Nothing was said during the drive to the hotel near Covent Garden.
+Brigit sat with closed eyes and folded hands while Lady Fitz Rewes, lost
+in thought, stared out of the window. At last the horses stopped.
+
+"This is the place," said Father Foster.
+
+A large gas-lamp hung over the entrance, and two Swiss waiters, with
+forced solemnity, ushered the party through the hall and up the
+staircase. They tapped at a door, listened, from force of habit, for an
+answer which never came, and then turned the handle. Parflete's bed had
+been moved to the centre of the room. There was a table covered with a
+white cloth, on which four candles burnt. By the window there was a
+chair littered with illustrated newspapers.
+
+"The nurse has just gone down to his supper," explained one of the
+waiters, "but _le mort est bien convenable_."
+
+The dead man had been dressed in a rose-silk shirt embroidered with
+forget-me-nots. Upon his crossed arms lay a small ivory crucifix. In
+place of his wig he wore a black velvet skull-cap. The face was yellow:
+the features seemed set in a defiant, ironical smile. Hardship, terror,
+remorse, and physical agony had left their terrible scars upon his
+countenance.
+
+Brigit, overcome at the sight of these awful changes, fell weeping on
+Pensee's shoulder.
+
+"Thank God!" she whispered, "he has no more to fear from men."
+
+When she grew calmer, she knelt down by the body, and told them that she
+would watch there that night.
+
+"Madness!" exclaimed Lady Fitz Rewes.
+
+"No, no! I wish to do it."
+
+The priest stated a few objections, but she remained firm in her
+resolve.
+
+"He was my father's friend," she said, quietly.
+
+They both noticed that she never once referred to Parflete as her
+husband.
+
+"If you stay, Brigit, I too will stay," said Pensee.
+
+"That, dearest, you must decide for yourself. In any case, I cannot
+leave him. Tell the nurse not to come back. And let me be alone here for
+a little while."
+
+Lady Fitz Rewes and Father Foster went downstairs to the coffee-room,
+and made a pretence of eating dinner. The two talked about the
+deplorable marriage, the Orange affair, Brigit's talents. Of course, she
+was very young. But Rachel--the great Rachel--made her first triumph at
+seventeen.
+
+"One doesn't like to say it," observed Pensee, "but this death seems
+providential. If she marries Orange, she will give up the stage. Poor
+child! At last it really looks as though she might be happy--like other
+people."
+
+"Like other people," repeated the priest, mechanically.
+
+"I must send word to my housekeeper that I intend to remain here all
+night. And I should like our letters--I had no time to look at them."
+
+A messenger was despatched, and they resumed their former conversation.
+
+"I am afraid," said Pensee, "that poor Mr. Parflete was dreadfully
+wicked."
+
+The priest sighed, and made some remarks about the dead man's
+intellectual brilliancy:
+
+"He had great learning."
+
+"Tell me, Father, with all your experience, do you understand life?"
+asked Pensee, abruptly.
+
+"Let me take refuge in a quotation--
+
+                        _'Justice divine
+    Mends not her slowest pace for pray'rs or cries.'_
+
+I can understand that at least," answered the priest.
+
+"How odd that you should speak of justice. Brigit was talking in the
+same strain only yesterday. It's a gloomy strain--for a young girl."
+
+"I don't think so. One shouldn't sentimentalise. Life goes on, it
+doesn't halt: it's a constant development. I haven't much patience
+with----"
+
+He stopped short.
+
+"Pray finish the sentence."
+
+"Well, I haven't much patience with those who want to linger, and look
+back, and cheat time. One must get along."
+
+Pensee felt annoyed, and began to talk coldly about the housing of the
+poor, and winters which she had spent in Florence.
+
+"Here are your letters," exclaimed her companion suddenly.
+
+She turned them over with languid interest, murmuring unconsciously to
+herself the names of her correspondents.
+
+"From dear Ethel. Why is she in Edinburgh? I hope her father isn't ill
+again. Alice. Uncle. Mrs. Lanark. Mary Butler. Prince d'Alchingen. That
+tiresome Miss Bates. Mr. Seward." She paused and flushed deeply.
+"Robert."
+
+Then she turned to Father Foster with shining eyes.
+
+"This letter," said she, "is from Mr. Orange. Don't you admire his
+handwriting?"
+
+"A beautiful hand, certainly."
+
+"I wonder what he has to say, and why he is abroad. Isn't that a foreign
+stamp?"
+
+"The post-mark is Paris."
+
+"So it is. Will you excuse me if I read it."
+
+She broke the seal, and read the contents, while every vestige of colour
+left her face.
+
+"I can't make it out," she said; "there must be another letter for
+Brigit. Will you look?"
+
+He untied the packet, and recognised presently Orange's handwriting on
+an envelope.
+
+"You seem rather displeased," said Pensee; "you think this is all very
+strange. It--it isn't a common case."
+
+"No case is common."
+
+"Well, you must help me to decide whether I ought to give her this
+letter at once. I can't take so much responsibility."
+
+"Neither can I. She is a perfectly free woman now, at any rate."
+
+He did not approve of the situation, and he made no attempt to conceal
+his feelings. His face became set. Pensee thought she detected a certain
+reprimand in the very tone of his voice.
+
+"It isn't a common case," she repeated again. "He says he is on his way
+to Rome--to the Jesuits--for a long Retreat, if they will take him. If
+he knew--what has happened--he might change his mind."
+
+"What! you would have him turn back?"
+
+"Oh, don't be so hard."
+
+"I am not hard," he added more gently. "But would this woman, if she
+really loved him, wish him to turn back? And, if there is anything in
+him, could he ever be happy in any stopping short of the fullest
+renunciation--once resolved on that renunciation?"
+
+"Ah, don't put it that way to her. She has had so much trouble already.
+Your Church seems so selfish. Forgive me, but I do resent these celibate
+views. They are unnatural."
+
+"I shan't interfere. Take her the letter by all means. She must decide
+for herself."
+
+Pensee rose from the table, and went up the stairs to the room where
+Brigit still knelt by Parflete's dead body.
+
+"Dearest," said Lady Fitz Rewes, "I think you ought to read this letter.
+I have had one also. Robert thinks of taking a great step, and
+perhaps----"
+
+Her glance met Brigit's.
+
+"No," said Brigit, under her breath: "no."
+
+Then, with trembling hands, she read the letter once, twice, three
+times.
+
+"Say something," said Pensee, touching her. "Say something, Brigit."
+
+She smiled and held the letter to the candle flame. It caught fire and
+burnt away quickly while she held it.
+
+"Mind your hand--it will catch your hand."
+
+"I don't feel it," said Brigit. She bore the scar of that burn always.
+
+"Say something," implored Pensee.
+
+"He is on his way to Rome. He asks me not to write to him. Castrillon is
+dying. They fought a duel."
+
+"But of course you will write--now. You must write."
+
+"Hasn't my love done harm enough already? I will never see him again. I
+shall never write to him again."
+
+"You can't mean that. You can't realise what you are saying. People will
+like him all the better for fighting Castrillon."
+
+"Oh, it isn't the duel, Pensee. He sees his way clearly. He has always
+tried not to see it. I, too, have tried not to see it. But all that is
+at an end now."
+
+"And he will renounce his career."
+
+"Everything! Everything!"
+
+Pensee threw up her hands, and left the room. Father Foster was standing
+under a gas-jet at the end of the corridor reading his office. He looked
+at Lady Fitz Rewes.
+
+"She won't stand in his way?" he asked quietly.
+
+"She won't stand in his way," she answered. "I hope you realise what
+that means--to her."
+
+"I hope I can realise what it means to both of them," said he.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+
+In 1879, a distinguished author who was engaged in writing a history of
+the Catholic Movement in England, begged Mr. Disraeli, then Earl of
+Beaconsfield, for some particulars, not generally known, of Robert
+Orange's life.
+
+He replied as follows:--
+
+                                HUGHENDEN MANOR, _Nov. 28, 1879_.
+
+     MY DEAR F.,--You ask me for an estimate of Monsignor Orange.
+     Questions are always easy. Let me offer you facts in return. The
+     Castrillon duel was a nine days' wonder--much discussed and soon
+     forgotten. Castrillon left a letter with his second, M. de
+     Lamoignon, to the effect that he had offered Orange "intolerable
+     insults" which "no man of honour" could have suffered. Mrs.
+     Parflete's name did not transpire, but Prince d'Alchingen and
+     others gave speculation no industry on the matter. We were at no
+     loss to know the real cause of the quarrel. Orange applied for the
+     Chiltern Hundreds and went into strict retreat for six months.
+     During that time he saw no friends, wrote no letters, read none. I
+     remember his conduct was severely criticised, because the death of
+     Parflete opened out other possibilities of action. He was not a
+     man, however, whom one could order to be this, that, or the other;
+     still less could one reproach him for not being this, that, or the
+     other. It was his faith to believe that salvation rests on the
+     negation and renunciation of personality. He pushed this to the
+     complete suppression of his Will, tenderly considered. I need not
+     detain you on the familiar dogmas of Christianity with regard to
+     the reign of nature and the reign of grace. Your view may be
+     expressed thus:--
+
+        "_Puis-qu'il aime a perir, je consens qu'il perisse,_"
+
+    and you will think that Orange said of Mrs. Parflete, as Polyeucte
+    of his wife:--
+
+    _"Je ne regarde Pauline
+    Que comme un obstacle a mon bien."_
+
+    This would be an injustice. Orange was, to me, a deeply interesting
+    character. I saw little of him after he entered the priesthood, but
+    his writings, his sermons, and the actual work he accomplished
+    proved conclusively enough that he was right in following--and we
+    were wrong in opposing--his true vocation. The Church received her
+    own again. Rome did not smile at him at first. A de Hausee, however,
+    never yet tapped long at any gate. The family--which had been
+    stirred to fury by his father's trespass--welcomed the son as a
+    prodigal manque. His aunt, the Princess Varese, left him half of her
+    large fortune. He lived himself in great seclusion and simplicity,
+    and died, as you are aware, of over-work last year. The one friend
+    he corresponded with and occasionally saw was Lady Fitz Rewes. Sara
+    de Treverell did not marry the Duke of Marshire, but three years
+    before Orange's death she took the veil, and is now a Carmelite nun.
+    Many people were amazed at this, but I was not. Mrs. Parflete,
+    Orange never saw again after the night of her performance at Prince
+    d'Alchingen's. Her career continues. From time to time a rumour
+    reaches me that she is about to marry a nobleman, an author, her
+    manager, or an American millionaire. Quite a mistake. She, too, is a
+    visionary, and, I should say, respectable. If you have not seen her
+    act, seize the first opportunity. If you think of writing more than
+    the merest sketch of Orange's strange career, may I suggest the
+    following motto from the _Purgatorio_?--
+
+        "_Cast down the seed of weeping and attend._"
+
+                        Yours very sincerely, my dear F.,
+
+                                BEACONSFIELD.
+
+UNWIN BROTHERS, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOKING AND LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+BOOKS FOR RECREATION AND STUDY
+
+PUBLISHED BY
+T. FISHER UNWIN,
+11, PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS,
+LONDON, E.C....
+
+
+
+
+SIX-SHILLING NOVELS
+
+_In uniform green cloth, large crown 8vo., gilt tops_, 6s.
+
+
+  Effie Hetherington. By ROBERT BUCHANAN. Second Edition.
+  An Outcast of the Islands. By JOSEPH CONRAD. Second Edition.
+  Almayer's Folly. By JOSEPH CONRAD. Second Edition.
+  The Ebbing of the Tide. By LOUIS BECKE. Second Edition.
+  A First Fleet Family. By LOUIS BECKE and WALTER JEFFERY.
+  Paddy's Woman, and Other Stories. By HUMPHREY JAMES.
+  Clara Hopgood. By MARK RUTHERFORD. Second Edition.
+  The Tales of John Oliver Hobbes. Portrait of the Author. Second Edition.
+  The Stickit Minister. By S. R. CROCKETT. Eleventh Edition.
+  The Lilac Sunbonnet. By S. R. CROCKETT. Sixth Edition.
+  The Raiders. By S. R. CROCKETT. Eighth Edition.
+  The Grey Man. By S. R. CROCKETT.
+  In a Man's Mind. By J. R. WATSON.
+  A Daughter of the Fen. By J. T. BEALBY. Second Edition.
+  The Herb-Moon. By JOHN OLIVER HOBBES. Third Edition.
+  Nancy Noon. By BENJAMIN SWIFT. Second Edition. With New Preface.
+  Mr. Magnus. By F. REGINALD STATHAM. Second Edition.
+  Trooper Peter Halket of Mashonaland. By OLIVE SCHREINER. Frontispiece.
+  Pacific Tales. By LOUIS BECKE. With Frontispiece Portrait of the Author.
+    Second Edition.
+  Mrs. Keith's Crime. By Mrs. W. K. CLIFFORD. Sixth Edition. With Portrait
+    of Mrs. Keith by the HON. JOHN COLLIER, and a New Preface by the
+    Author.
+  Hugh Wynne. By Dr. S. WEIR MITCHELL. With Frontispiece Illustration.
+  The Tormentor. By BENJAMIN SWIFT, Author of "Nancy Noon."
+  Prisoners of Conscience. By AMELIA E. BARR, Author of "Jan Vedder's
+    Wife." With 12 Illustrations.
+  The Gods, some Mortals and Lord Wickenham. New Edition. By JOHN OLIVER
+    HOBBES.
+  The Outlaws of the Marches. By LORD ERNEST HAMILTON. Fully illustrated.
+  The School for Saints: Part of the History of the Right Honourable Robert
+    Orange, M.P. By JOHN OLIVER HOBBES, Author of "Sinner's Comedy," "Some
+    Emotions and a Moral," "The Herb Moon," &c.
+  The People of Clopton. By GEORGE BARTRAM.
+
+
+
+WORKS BY JOSEPH CONRAD
+
+I.
+
+AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS
+
+_Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"Subject to the qualifications thus disposed of (_vide_ first part of
+notice), 'An Outcast of the Islands' is perhaps the finest piece of
+fiction that has been published this year, as 'Almayer's Folly' was one
+of the finest that was published in 1895.... Surely this is real
+romance--the romance that is real. Space forbids anything but the merest
+recapitulation of the other living realities of Mr. Conrad's
+invention--of Lingard, of the inimitable Almayer, the one-eyed
+Babalatchi, the Naturalist, of the pious Abdulla--all novel, all
+authentic. Enough has been written to show Mr. Conrad's quality. He
+imagines his scenes and their sequence like a master; he knows his
+individualities and their hearts; he has a new and wonderful field in
+this East Indian Novel of his.... Greatness is deliberately written; the
+present writer has read and re-read his two books, and after putting
+this review aside for some days to consider the discretion of it, the
+word still stands."--_Saturday Review._
+
+
+II.
+
+ALMAYER'S FOLLY
+
+_Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"This startling, unique, splendid book." Mr. T. P. O'CONNOR, M.P.
+
+"This is a decidedly powerful story of an uncommon type, and breaks
+fresh ground in fiction.... All the leading characters in the
+book--Almayer, his wife, his daughter, and Dain, the daughter's native
+lover--are well drawn, and the parting between father and daughter has a
+pathetic naturalness about it, unspoiled by straining after effect.
+There are, too, some admirably graphic passages in the book. The
+approach of a monsoon is most effectively described.... The name of Mr.
+Joseph Conrad is new to us, but it appears to us as if he might become
+the Kipling of the Malay Archipelago."--_Spectator._
+
+
+
+
+THE EBBING OF THE TIDE by LOUIS BECKE
+Author of "By Reef and Palm"
+
+_Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"Mr. Louis Becke wields a powerful pen, with the additional advantage
+that he waves it in unfrequented places, and summons up with it the
+elemental passions of human nature.... It will be seen that Mr. Becke is
+somewhat of the fleshly school, but with a pathos and power not given to
+the ordinary professors of that school.... Altogether for those who like
+stirring stories cast in strange scenes, this is a book to be
+read."--_National Observer._
+
+
+
+
+PACIFIC TALES by LOUIS BECKE
+With a Portrait of the Author
+
+_Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"The appearance of a new book by Mr. Becke has become an event of
+note--and very justly. No living author, if we except Mr. Kipling, has
+so amazing a command of that unhackneyed vitality of phrase that most
+people call by the name of realism. Whether it is scenery or character
+or incident that he wishes to depict, the touch is ever so dramatic
+and vivid that the reader is conscious of a picture and impression
+that has no parallel save in the records of actual sight and
+memory."--_Westminster Gazette._
+
+"Another series of sketches of island life in the South Seas, not
+inferior to those contained in 'By Reef and Palm.'"--_Speaker._
+
+"The book is well worth reading. The author knows what he is talking
+about and has a keen eye for the picturesque."--_G. B. Burgin in
+To-day._
+
+"A notable contribution to the romance of the South Seas."--T. P.
+O'CONNOR, M.P., in _The Graphic_.
+
+
+
+
+PADDY'S WOMAN by HUMPHREY JAMES
+
+_Crown 8vo._, 6s.
+
+
+"Traits of the Celt of humble circumstances are copied with keen
+appreciation and unsparing accuracy."--_Scotsman._
+
+" ... They are full of indescribable charm and pathos."--_Bradford
+Observer._
+
+"The outstanding merit of this series of stories is that they are
+absolutely true to life ... the photographic accuracy and minuteness
+displayed are really marvellous."--_Aberdeen Free Press._
+
+"'Paddy's Woman and Other Stories' by Humphrey James; a volume written
+in the familiar diction of the Ulster people themselves, with perfect
+realism and very remarkable ability.... For genuine human nature and
+human relations, and humour of an indescribable kind, we are unable to
+cite a rival to this volume."--_The World._
+
+"For a fine subtle piece of humour we are inclined to think that 'A
+Glass of Whisky' takes a lot of beating.... In short Mr. Humphrey James
+has given us a delightful book, and one which does as much credit to his
+heart as to our head. We shall look forward with a keen anticipation to
+the next 'writings' by this shrewd, 'cliver,' and compassionate young
+author."--_Bookselling._
+
+
+
+
+A FIRST FLEET FAMILY: BEING A HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED NARRATIVE OF
+CERTAIN REMARKABLE ADVENTURES COMPILED FROM THE PAPERS OF SERGEANT
+WILLIAM DEW, OF THE MARINES by LOUIS BECKE and WALTER JEFFERY
+
+_Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"As convincingly real and vivid as a narrative can be."--_Sketch._
+
+"No maker of plots could work out a better story of its kind, nor
+balance it more neatly."--_Daily Chronicle._
+
+"A book which describes a set of characters varied and so attractive as
+the more prominent figures in this romance, and a book so full of life,
+vicissitude, and peril, should be welcomed by every discreet novel
+reader."--_Yorkshire Post._
+
+"A very interesting tale, written in clear and vigorous
+English."--_Globe._
+
+"The novel is a happy blend of truth and fiction, with a purpose that
+will be appreciated by many readers; it has also the most exciting
+elements of the tale of adventure."--_Morning Post._
+
+
+
+
+THE TALES OF JOHN OLIVER HOBBES
+With a Frontispiece Portrait of the Author
+
+_Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"The cleverness of them all is extraordinary."--_Guardian._
+
+"The volume proves how little and how great a thing it is to write a
+'Pseudonym.' Four whole 'Pseudonyms' ... are easily contained within its
+not extravagant limits, and these four little books have given John
+Oliver Hobbes a recognized position as a master of epigram and narrative
+comedy."--_St. James's Gazette._
+
+"As her star has been sudden in its rise so may it stay long with us!
+Some day she may give us something better than these tingling, pulsing,
+mocking, epigrammatic morsels."--_Times._
+
+"There are several literary ladies, of recent origin, who have tried to
+come up to the society ideal; but John Oliver Hobbes is by far the best
+writer of them all, by far the most capable artist in fiction.... She is
+clever enough for anything."--_Saturday Review._
+
+
+
+
+THE HERB MOON by JOHN OLIVER HOBBES
+
+_Third Edition, Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"The jaded reader who needs sauce for his literary appetite cannot do
+better than buy 'The Herb Moon.'"--_Literary World._
+
+"A book to hail with more than common pleasure. The epigrammatic
+quality, the power of rapid analysis and brilliant presentation are
+there, and added to these a less definable quality, only to be described
+as charm.... 'The Herb Moon' is as clever as most of its predecessors,
+and far less artificial."--_Athenaeum._
+
+
+
+
+THE STICKIT MINISTER AND SOME COMMON MEN by S. R. CROCKETT
+
+_Eleventh Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"Here is one of the books which are at present coming singly and at long
+intervals, like early swallows, to herald, it is to be hoped, a larger
+flight. When the larger flight appears, the winter of our discontent
+will have passed, and we shall be able to boast that the short story can
+make a home east as well as west of the Atlantic. There is plenty of
+human nature--of the Scottish variety, which is a very good variety--in
+'The Stickit Minister' and its companion stories; plenty of humour, too,
+of that dry, pawky kind which is a monopoly of 'Caledonia, stern and
+wild'; and, most plentiful of all, a quiet perception and reticent
+rendering of that underlying pathos of life which is to be discovered,
+not in Scotland alone, but everywhere that a man is found who can see
+with the heart and the imagination as well as the brain. Mr. Crockett
+has given us a book that is not merely good, it is what his countrymen
+would call 'by-ordinar' good,' which, being interpreted into a tongue
+understanded of the southern herd, means that it is excellent, with a
+somewhat exceptional kind of excellence."--_Daily Chronicle._
+
+
+
+
+THE LILAC SUN-BONNET by S. R. CROCKETT
+
+_Sixth Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"Mr. Crockett's 'Lilac Sun-Bonnet' 'needs no bush.' Here is a pretty
+love tale, and the landscape and rural descriptions carry the exile back
+into the Kingdom of Galloway. Here, indeed, is the scent of bog-myrtle
+and peat. After inquiries among the fair, I learn that of all romances,
+they best love not 'sociology,' not 'theology,' still less, open
+manslaughter, for a motive, but just love's young dream, chapter after
+chapter. From Mr. Crockett they get what they want, 'hot with,' as
+Thackeray admits that he liked it."--Mr. ANDREW LANG in _Longman's
+Magazine._
+
+
+
+
+THE RAIDERS by S. R. CROCKETT
+
+_Eighth Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"A thoroughly enjoyable novel, full of fresh, original, and accurate
+pictures of life long gone by."--_Daily News._
+
+"A strikingly realistic romance."--_Morning Post._
+
+"A stirring story.... Mr. Crockett's style is charming. My Baronite
+never knew how musical and picturesque is Scottish-English till he read
+this book."--_Punch._
+
+"The youngsters have their Stevenson, their Barrie, and now a third
+writer has entered the circle, S. R. Crockett, with a lively and jolly
+book of adventures, which the paterfamilias pretends to buy for his
+eldest son, but reads greedily himself and won't let go till he has
+turned over the last page.... Out of such historical elements and
+numberless local traditions the author has put together an exciting tale
+of adventures on land and sea."--_Frankfurter Zeitung._
+
+
+_SOME SCOTCH NOTICES._
+
+"Galloway folk should be proud to rank 'The Raiders' among the classics
+of the district."--_Scotsman._
+
+"Mr. Crockett's 'The Raiders' is one of the great literary successes of
+the season."--_Dundee Advertiser._
+
+"Mr. Crockett has achieved the distinction of having produced the book
+of the season."--_Dumfries and Galloway Standard._
+
+"The story told in it is, as a story, nearly perfect."--_Aberdeen Daily
+Free Press._
+
+"'The Raiders' is one of the most brilliant efforts of recent
+fiction."--_Kirkcudbrightshire Advertiser._
+
+
+
+
+THE GREY MAN by S. R. CROCKETT
+
+_Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+_Also, an Edition de Luxe, with 26 Drawings by SEYMOUR LUCAS, R.A.,
+limited to 250 copies, signed by Author. Crown 4to., cloth gilt_, 21s.
+_net._
+
+
+"It has nearly all the qualities which go to make a book of the
+first-class. Before you have read twenty pages you know that you are
+reading a classic."--_Literary World._
+
+"All of that vast and increasing host of readers who prefer the novel of
+action to any other form of fiction should, nay, indeed, must, make a
+point of reading this exceedingly fine example of its class."--_Daily
+Chronicle._
+
+"With such passages as these [referring to quotations], glowing with
+tender passion, or murky with horror, even the most insatiate lover of
+romance may feel that Mr. Crockett has given him good measure, well
+pressed down and running over."--_Daily Telegraph._
+
+
+
+
+A DAUGHTER OF THE FEN by J. T. BEALBY
+
+_Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"It will deserve notice at the hands of such as are interested in the
+ways and manner of living of a curious race that has ceased to be."
+_Daily Chronicle._
+
+"For a first book 'A Daughter of the Fen' is full of
+promise."--_Academy._
+
+"This book deserves to be read for its extremely interesting account of
+life in the Fens and for its splendid character study of Mme.
+Dykereave."--_Star._
+
+"Deserves high praise."--_Scotsman._
+
+"It is an able, interesting ... an exciting book, and is well worth
+reading. And when once taken up it will be difficult to lay it
+down."--_Westminster Gazette._
+
+
+
+
+IN A MAN'S MIND by JOHN REAY WATSON
+
+_Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"We regard the book as well worth the effort of reading."--_British
+Review._
+
+"The book is clever, very clever."--_Dundee Advertiser._
+
+"The power and pathos of the book are undeniable."--_Liverpool Post._
+
+"It is a book of some promise."--_Newsagent._
+
+"Mr. Watson has hardly a rival among Australian writers, past or
+present. There is real power in the book--power of insight, power of
+reflection, power of analysis, power of presentation.... 'Tis a very
+well made book--not a set of independent episodes strung on the thread
+of a name or two, but closely interwoven to the climax." _Sydney
+Bulletin._
+
+"There is behind it all a power of drawing human nature that in time
+arrests the attention."--_Athenaeum._
+
+
+
+
+NANCY NOON by BENJAMIN SWIFT
+
+_Second Edition. Cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+Some Reviews on the First Edition.
+
+"'Nancy Noon' is perhaps the strongest book of the year, certainly by
+far the strongest book which has been published by any new writer....
+Mr. Swift contrives to keep his book from end to end real, passionate,
+even intense.... If Mr. Meredith had never written, one would have
+predicted, with the utmost confidence, a great future for Mr. Benjamin
+Swift, and even as it is I have hopes."--_Sketch._
+
+"Certainly a promising first effort"--_Whitehall Review._
+
+"If 'Nancy Noon' be Mr. Swift's first book, it is a success of an
+uncommon kind."--_Dundee Advertiser._
+
+"'Nancy Noon' is one of the most remarkable novels of the year, and the
+author, avowedly a beginner, has succeeded in gaining a high position in
+the ranks of contemporary writers.... All his characters are delightful.
+In the heat of sensational incidents or droll scenes we stumble on
+observations that set us reflecting, and but for an occasional roughness
+of style--elliptical, Carlyle mannerisms--the whole is admirably
+written."--_Westminster Gazette._
+
+"Mr. Swift has the creative touch and a spark of genius."--_Manchester
+Guardian._
+
+"Mr. Swift has held us interested from the first to the last page of his
+novel."--_World._
+
+"The writer of 'Nancy Noon' has succeeded in presenting a powerfully
+written and thoroughly interesting story."--_Scotsman._
+
+"We are bound to admit that the story interested us all through, that it
+absorbed us towards the end, and that not until the last page had been
+read did we find it possible to lay the book down."--_Daily Chronicle._
+
+"It is a very strong book, very vividly coloured, very fascinating in
+its style, very compelling in its claim on the attention, and not at all
+likely to be soon forgotten."--_British Weekly._
+
+"A clever book ... The situations and ensuing complications
+are dramatic, and are handled with originality and daring
+throughout."--_Daily News._
+
+"Mr. Benjamin Swift has written a vastly entertaining book."--_Academy._
+
+
+
+
+MR. MAGNUS by F. REGINALD STATHAM
+
+_Second Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+Some Press Opinions on the First Edition.
+
+"One of the most powerful and vividly written novels of the
+day."--_Nottingham Guardian._
+
+"A grim, terrible, and convincing picture."--_New Age._
+
+"Very impressive."--_Saturday Review._
+
+"Distinctly readable."--_Speaker._
+
+"A remarkable book."--_Standard._
+
+"Full of incident."--_Liverpool Mercury._
+
+"One of the most important and timely books ever written." _Newcastle
+Daily Mercury._
+
+"A vivid and stirring narrative."--_Globe._
+
+"An exceedingly clever and remarkable production."--_World._
+
+"A book to be read."--_Newsagent._
+
+"A terrible picture."--_Sheffield Independent._
+
+"One of the best stories lately published."--_Echo._
+
+"Worth reading."--_Guardian._
+
+"A sprightly book."--_Punch._
+
+"The story is very much brought up to date."--_Times._
+
+"Vivid and convincing."--_Daily Chronicle._
+
+"The story is good and well told."--_Pall Mall Gazette._
+
+"Ought to be immensely popular."--_Reynolds' Weekly Newspaper._
+
+"A most readable story."--_Glasgow Herald._
+
+"A brilliant piece of work."--_Daily Telegraph._
+
+"The story should make its mark."--_Bookseller._
+
+"Admirably written."--_Sheffield Daily Telegraph._
+
+"The more widely it is read the better."--_Manchester Guardian._
+
+"Will find many appreciative readers."--_Aberdeen Free Press._
+
+"Exciting reading."--_Daily Mail._
+
+"Can be heartily recommended."--_Lloyd's Weekly Newspaper._
+
+"A well-written and capable story."--_People._
+
+"Well written."--_Literary World._
+
+
+
+
+MRS. KEITH'S CRIME by MRS. W. K. CLIFFORD
+
+With a Portrait of Mrs. Keith by the Hon. John Collier.
+
+
+_Sixth Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"Is certainly the strongest book that Mrs. W. K. Clifford has given to
+the public. It is probably too the most popular."--_World._
+
+"It is charmingly told."--_Literary World._
+
+"A novel of extraordinary dramatic force, and it will doubtless be
+widely read in its present very cheap and attractive form."--_Star._
+
+"Mrs. Clifford's remarkable tale."--_Athenaeum._
+
+"Will prove a healthy tonic to readers who have recently been taking a
+course of shilling shocker mental medicine.... There are many beautiful
+womanly touches throughout the pages of this interesting volume, and it
+can be safely recommended to readers old and young."--_Aberdeen Free
+Press._
+
+
+
+
+MASTERS OF MEDICINE edited by ERNEST HART, D.C.L., Editor of "The
+British Medical Journal"
+
+
+_Large crown 8vo., cloth_, 3s. 6d. _each_.
+
+     Medical discoveries more directly concern the well-being and
+     happiness of the human race than any victories of science. They
+     appeal to one of the primary instincts of human nature, that of
+     self-preservation. The importance of health as the most valuable of
+     our national assets is coming to be more and more recognised, and
+     the place of the doctor in Society and in the State is becoming one
+     of steadily increasing prominence; indeed, Mr. Gladstone said not
+     many years ago that the time would surely come when the medical
+     profession would take precedence of all the others in authority as
+     well as in dignity. The development of medicine from an empiric art
+     to an exact science is one of the most important and also one of
+     the most interesting chapters in the history of civilisation. The
+     histories of medicine which exist are for the most part only fitted
+     for the intellectual digestion of Dryasdust and his congeners. Of
+     the men who made the discoveries which have saved incalculable
+     numbers of human lives, and which have lengthened the span of human
+     existence, there is often no record at all accessible to the
+     general reader. Yet the story of these men's lives, of their
+     struggles and of their triumphs, is not only interesting, but in
+     the highest degree stimulating and educative. Many of them could
+     have said with literal truth what Sir Thomas Browne said
+     figuratively, that their lives were a romance. Hitherto there have
+     been no accounts of the lives of medical discoverers in a form at
+     once convenient and uniform, and sold at a popular price. The
+     "Masters of Medicine" is a series of biographies written by
+     "eminent hands" intended to supply this want. It is intended that
+     the man shall be depicted as he moved and lived and had his being,
+     and that the scope and gist of his work, as well as the steps by
+     which he reached his results, shall be set forth in a clear,
+     readable style.
+
+The following is a condensed list of some of the earlier volumes.--
+
+  AUTHOR.                             TITLE.
+
+  STEPHEN PAGET                      _John Hunter_
+  D'ARCY POWER                       _William Harvey_
+  H. LAING GORDON                    _Sir James Simpson_
+  JOHN G. MCKENDRICK                 _Hermann von Helmholtz_
+  SIR WILLIAM STOKES                 _William Stokes_
+  MICHAEL FOSTER                     _Claude Bernard_
+  TIMOTHY HOLMES                     _Sir Benjamin Brodie_
+  J. F. PAYNE                        _Thomas Sydenham_
+  C. L. TAYLOR                       _Vesalius_
+
+
+
+
+WORKS BY MARTIN A. S. HUME F.R.H.S., Editor of the "Calendar of Spanish
+State Papers of Elizabeth" (Public Record Office).
+
+
+THE COURTSHIPS OF QUEEN ELIZABETH
+With Portraits
+
+_Fourth Edition. Large crown 8vo., cloth_, 6s.
+
+
+"It is undeniably an important addition to the history of the
+Elizabethan period, and it will rank as the foremost authority on the
+most interesting aspect of the character of the Tudor Queen."--_Pall
+Mall Gazette._
+
+"A clear and very interesting account. An excellent book."--_Times._
+
+"A connected and consistent, though assuredly a most extraordinary,
+story.... A fascinating picture."--_Standard._
+
+"A delightful book."--_Daily Telegraph._
+
+
+THE YEAR AFTER THE ARMADA AND OTHER HISTORICAL STUDIES
+
+_Second Edition. Illustrated. Demy 8vo., cloth gilt_, 12s.
+
+
+"A most valuable and conscientiously written historical
+work."--_Spectator._
+
+"The whole book is extremely interesting, and at once instructive and
+amusing."--_Speaker._
+
+"Deserves a wide circulation, and we trust that a proper reward will
+follow close upon its merits."--_Literary World._
+
+"Major Hume has thrown the most curious and valuable light on the Armada
+period. Full of delightful sketches of men and things."--W. L. COURTNEY
+in _The Daily Telegraph_.
+
+"A work which adds many a fresh page to English, and one may say to
+European history.... From first to last the volume is excellent reading,
+while the entertaining style in which the matter is presented and the
+undeniable authority of the writer ... render the book of special
+interest and permanent value."--_The Morning Post._
+
+"Quite as good as a novel--and a good deal better, too. The book is so
+bright and vivid that readers with the common dislike of history may
+venture on its pages unafraid."--ANDREW LANG in _Cosmopolis_.
+
+
+SIR WALTER RALEGH
+Being Vol. I. of the series entitled "Builders of Greater Britain," each
+vol. with photogravure frontispiece and map.
+
+_Large crown 8vo., cloth_, 5s. _each_.
+
+
+"There is not a dull page in it, and, with his skilful telling of it,
+the story of Raleigh's life and of his times reads like a
+romance."--_Pall Mall Gazette._
+
+
+
+
+SOME WORKS BY REV. E. J. HARDY
+_"The Murray of Matrimony, the Baedeker of Bliss."_
+
+
+HOW TO BE HAPPY THOUGH MARRIED
+
+_Popular Edition, gilt edges, cloth, bevelled boards_, 3s. 6d.
+
+_Presentation Edition, white vellum, cloth, bevelled boards, gilt edges,
+in box_, 7s. 6d.
+
+
+"An entertaining volume ... The new guide to matrimonial
+felicity."--_Standard._
+
+"This charming volume ... Wit and wisdom abound in its pages; as for the
+good stories, they are almost too plentiful."--_Spectator._
+
+
+_Uniform in style and prices with the foregoing._
+
+
+THE FIVE TALENTS OF WOMAN
+A Book for Girls and Young Women
+
+
+THE BUSINESS OF LIFE
+A Book for Everyone
+
+_Square imperial 16mo., cloth_, 3s. 6d.--_Presentation Edition, bevelled
+boards, gilt edges, in box_, 7s. 6d.
+
+
+"Calculated to teach the art of happiness and contentment as well as
+mere exhortation can teach it."--_Times._
+
+"Pleasant as well as profitable reading."--_Literary World._
+
+"A host of social subjects are treated in a way at once wise and witty,
+and in a manner as delightful to read as they are pleasantly
+'improving.'"--_Daily Telegraph._
+
+
+THE SUNNY DAYS OF YOUTH
+A Book for Boys and Young Men
+
+_Square Imperial 16mo., cloth_, 3s. 6d.--_Presentation Edition,
+elegantly bound, bevelled boards, gilt edges_, 7s. 6d.
+
+
+"It is an excellent book for a serious-minded boy."--_Scotsman._
+
+"The pleasantest reading possible ... this useful little
+book."--_Educational Review._
+
+"As well written as it is unquestionably well-intentioned."--_Leeds
+Mercury._
+
+
+FAINT YET PURSUING
+
+_Square Imperial 16mo. Popular Edition. Crown 8vo., cloth_, 3s. 6d.
+
+
+"Will meet with an extensive recognition."--_Morning Post._
+
+"Short and sensible ... they form fresh and breezy reading."--_Glasgow
+Herald._
+
+
+"MANNERS MAKYTH MAN"
+
+_Presentation Edition, imperial 16mo., cloth, bevelled boards, in box_,
+7s. 6d.; _cloth_, 6s.--_Popular Edition, small square 8vo., cloth_, 3s.
+6d.
+
+"Good-natured, wholesome, and straightforward."--_Saturday Review._
+
+"A really delightful volume, well adapted for family
+reading."--_Christian World._
+
+
+THE LOVE AFFAIRS OF SOME FAMOUS MEN
+
+_Imperial 16mo., cloth_, 3s. 6d.
+
+
+
+
+WORKS BY PROF. PASQUALE VILLARI
+
+
+THE LIFE AND TIMES OF GIROLAMO SAVONAROLA
+Translated by LINDA VILLARI
+
+_New and Cheaper Edition in one volume. Fully Illustrated. Cloth, large
+crown_, 7s. 6d.
+
+
+"No more interesting book has been issued during the present
+season."--_Pall Mall Gazette._
+
+"The most interesting religious biography that we know of in modern
+times."--_Spectator._
+
+"A book which is not likely to be forgotten."--_Athenaeum._
+
+"By far the best book on Savonarola available for English
+readers."--_Standard._
+
+"Is perhaps _the_ book of the publishing season."--_Star._
+
+"Sincere, complete, and, upon the whole, well-balanced and
+candid."--_Yorkshire Post._
+
+"A work of very great value."--_Scotsman._
+
+"No more graphic view of the ecclesiastical and social life of ancient
+Italy has been opened up for us than this of Linda Villari."--_Morning
+Leader._
+
+"As complete and trustworthy as care, judgment, and the fullest
+investigation can make it."--_Dundee Advertiser._
+
+"A credit to the publisher."--_Independent._
+
+
+THE LIFE AND TIMES OF NICCOLO MACHIAVELLI
+
+_New and Cheaper Edition. Fully Illustrated. Large crown 8vo., cloth_,
+7s. 6d.
+
+
+"Indispensable to the serious student of Machiavelli, his teaching and
+his times."--_Times._
+
+"The fullest and most authoritative history of Machiavelli and his times
+ever given to the British public."--_Glasgow Herald._
+
+"May be regarded as an authority on the times of which it treats.... The
+book is enriched with rare and interesting illustrations, and with some
+valuable historical documents."--_Daily Telegraph._
+
+
+
+
+BY FRANK HORRIDGE
+LIVES OF GREAT ITALIANS
+
+_Illustrated. Large crown 8vo., cloth_, 7s. 6d.
+
+
+Opinions of the Press.
+
+"A poetical, romantic, and charmingly written book, which will be
+popular with all who love their Italy."--DOUGLAS SLADEN in _Literary
+World_.
+
+"Able, eloquent, and interesting."--_Queen._
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+* Inconsistency in hyphenation is as in the original.
+
+* Three short footnotes have been moved into the main text, rendered as
+[Footnote: ...]
+
+* The layout of the advertising material has been standardised somewhat,
+and dashes inserted consistently between reviews and their source. (In
+most but not all cases, a dash was present if the source was on the same
+line, but not if on a different line. This distinction is impossible to
+preserve in an e-text.)
+
+* Two misprinted accents on the French have been moved onto the correct
+letter.
+
+* Page 161: the first word on the page has been changed from "or" to
+"for" (there is a gap, and this best fits the context).
+
+* Page 195: the name "Bevensey" has been changed to "Pevensey" to match
+other occurrences in the book.
+
+* Page 201, first full paragraph: The comma after "masters" is possibly
+incorrect (a period or semi-colon would be more grammatically correct)
+but the original has been retained.
+
+* Page 354: in the paragraph beginning "In that event", a colon after
+said has been changed to a semi-colon, in accordance with normal
+practice and all other occurrences in the book.
+
+* Page 376: a reference to "De Hausee" has been changed to "de Hausee"
+to match every other occurrence.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Robert Orange, by John Oliver Hobbes
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBERT ORANGE ***
+
+***** This file should be named 27997.txt or 27997.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/9/9/27997/
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