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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Sir Noel's Heir, by May Agnes Fleming
+
+
+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: Sir Noel's Heir
+       A Novel
+
+
+Author: May Agnes Fleming
+
+
+
+Release Date: April 22, 2011  [eBook #35931]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIR NOEL'S HEIR***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Robert Cicconetti, Mary Meehan, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
+generously made available by Early Canadiana Online
+(http://www.canadiana.org)
+
+
+
+Note: Images of the original pages are available through
+      Early Canadiana Online. See
+      http://www.canadiana.org/ECO/ItemRecord/17010?id=991eb2932c65376b
+
+
+
+
+
+SIR NOEL'S HEIR.
+
+A Novel.
+
+by
+
+Mrs. MAY AGNES FLEMING
+
+Author of "Guy Earlscourt's Wife," "A Terrible Secret," "A Wonderful
+Woman," Etc.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+New York:
+The Federal Book Company,
+Publishers.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+   CHAPTER I.    SIR NOEL'S DEATH-BED.
+   CHAPTER II.   CAPT. EVERARD.
+   CHAPTER III.  "LITTLE MAY."
+   CHAPTER IV.   MRS. WEYMORE.
+   CHAPTER V.    A JOURNEY TO LONDON.
+   CHAPTER VI.   GUY.
+   CHAPTER VII.  COLONEL JOCYLN.
+   CHAPTER VIII. LADY THETFORD'S BALL.
+   CHAPTER IX.   GUY LEGARD.
+   CHAPTER X.    ASKING IN MARRIAGE.
+   CHAPTER XI.   ON THE WEDDING EVE.
+   CHAPTER XII.  MRS. WEYMORE'S STORY.
+   CHAPTER XIII. "THERE IS MANY A SLIP."
+   CHAPTER XIV.  PARTED.
+   CHAPTER XV.   AFTER FIVE YEARS.
+   CHAPTER XVI.  AT SORRENTO.
+   CHAPTER XVII. AT HOME.
+
+
+
+
+SIR NOEL'S HEIR.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+SIR NOEL'S DEATH-BED.
+
+
+The December night had closed in wet and wild around Thetford Towers. It
+stood down in the low ground, smothered in trees, a tall, gaunt, hoary
+pile of gray stone, all peaks, and gables and stacks of chimneys, and
+rook-infested turrets. A queer, massive, old house, built in the days of
+James the First, by Sir Hugo Thetford, the first baronet of the name,
+and as staunch and strong now as then.
+
+The December day had been overcast and gloomy, but the December night
+was stormy and wild. The wind worried and wailed through the tossing
+trees with whistling moans and shrieks that were desolately human, and
+made me think of the sobbing banshee of Irish legends. Far away the
+mighty voice of the stormy sea mingled its hoarse-bass, and the rain
+lashed the windows in long, slanting lines. A desolate night and a
+desolate scene without; more desolate still within, for on his bed, this
+tempestuous winter night, the last of the Thetford baronets lay dying.
+
+Through the driving wind and lashing rain a groom galloped along the
+high road to the village at break-neck speed. His errand was to Dr.
+Gale, the village surgeon, which gentleman he found just preparing to go
+to bed.
+
+"For God's sake, doctor!" cried the man, white as a sheet, "come with me
+at once! Sir Noel's killed!"
+
+Dr. Gale, albeit phlegmatic, staggered back, and stared at the speaker
+aghast.
+
+"What? Sir Noel killed?"
+
+"We're afraid so, doctor; none of us knows for certain sure, but he lies
+there like a dead man. Come quick, for the love of goodness, if you want
+to do any service!"
+
+"I'll be with you in five minutes," said the doctor, leaving the room to
+order his horse and don his hat and great coat.
+
+Dr. Gale was as good as his word. In less than ten minutes he and the
+groom were flying recklessly along to Thetford Tower.
+
+"How did it happen?" asked the doctor, hardly able to speak for the
+furious pace at which they were going. "I thought he was at Lady
+Stokestone's ball."
+
+"He did go," replied the groom; "leastways he took my lady there; but he
+said he had a friend to meet from London at the Royal George to-night,
+and he rode back. We don't, none of us, know how it happened; for a
+better or surer rider than Sir Noel there ain't in Devonshire; but Diana
+must have slipped and threw him. She came galloping in by herself about
+half an hour ago all blown; and me and three more set off to look for
+Sir Noel. We found him about twenty yards from the gates, lying on his
+face in the mud, and as stiff and cold as if he was dead."
+
+"And you brought him home and came for me?"
+
+"Directly, sir. Some wanted to send word to my lady; but Mrs. Hilliard,
+she thought how you had best see him first, sir, so's we'd know what
+danger he was really in before alarming her ladyship."
+
+"Quite right, William. Let us trust it may not be serious. Had Sir Noel
+been--I mean, I suppose he had been dining?"
+
+"Well, doctor," said William, "Arneaud, that's his _valet de chambre_,
+you know, said he thought he had taken more wine than was prudent going
+to Lady Stokestone's ball, which her ladyship is very particular about
+such, you know, sir."
+
+"Ah! that accounts," said the doctor, thoughtfully; "and now William, my
+man, don't let's talk any more, for I feel completely blown already."
+
+Ten minutes' sharp riding brought them to the great entrance gates of
+Thetford Towers. An old woman came out of a little lodge, built in the
+huge masonry, to admit them, and they dashed up the long winding avenue
+under the surging oaks and chestnuts. Five minutes more and Dr. Gale was
+running up a polished staircase of black, slippery oak, down an equally
+wide and black and slippery passage, and into the chamber where Sir Noel
+lay.
+
+A grand and stately chamber, lofty, dark and wainscoted, where the wax
+candles made luminous clouds in the darkness, and the wood-fire on the
+marble hearth failed to give heat. The oak floor was overlaid with
+Persian rugs; the windows were draped in green velvet and the chairs
+were upholstered in the same. Near the center of the apartment stood the
+bed, tall, broad, quaintly carved, curtained in green velvet, and on it,
+cold and lifeless, lay the wounded man. Mrs. Hilliard, the housekeeper,
+sat beside him, and Arneaud, the Swiss valet, with a frightened face,
+stood near the fire.
+
+"Very shocking business this, Mrs. Hilliard," said the doctor, removing
+his hat and gloves--"very shocking. How is he? Any signs of
+consciousness yet?"
+
+"None whatever, sir," replied the housekeeper, rising. "I am so thankful
+you have come. We, none of us, know what to do for him, and it is
+dreadful to see him lying there like that."
+
+She moved away, leaving the doctor to his examination. Ten minutes,
+fifteen, twenty passed, then Dr. Gale turned to her with a very pale,
+grave face.
+
+"It is too late, Mrs. Hilliard. Sir Noel is a dead man!"
+
+"Dead?" repeated Mrs. Hilliard, trembling and holding by a chair. "Oh,
+my lady! my lady!"
+
+"I am going to bleed him," said the doctor, "to restore consciousness.
+He may last until morning. Send for Lady Thetford at once."
+
+Arneaud started up. Mrs. Hilliard looked at him, wringing her hands.
+
+"Break it gently, Arneaud. Oh, my lady! my dear lady! So young and so
+pretty--and only married five months!"
+
+The Swiss valet left the room. Dr. Gale got out his lancet, and desired
+Mrs. Hilliard to hold the basin. At first the blood refused to flow--but
+presently it came in a little, feeble stream. The closed eyelids
+fluttered; there was a restless movement and Sir Noel Thetford opened
+his eyes in this mortal life once more. He looked first at the doctor,
+grave and pale, then at the housekeeper, sobbing on her knees by the
+bed. He was a young man of seven-and-twenty, fair and handsome, as it
+was in the nature of the Thetfords to be.
+
+"What is it?" he faintly asked. "What is the matter?"
+
+"You are hurt, Sir Noel," the doctor answered, sadly; "you have been
+thrown from your horse. Don't attempt to move--you are not able."
+
+"I remember--I remember," said the young man, a gleam of recollection
+lighting up his ghastly face. "Diana slipped, and I was thrown. How long
+ago is that?"
+
+"About an hour."
+
+"And I am hurt? Badly."
+
+He fixed his eyes with a powerful lock on the doctor's face, and that
+good man shrunk away from the news he must tell.
+
+"Badly?" reiterated the young baronet, in a peremptory tone, that told
+all of his nature. "Ah! you won't speak, I see! I am, and I feel--I
+feel. Doctor, am I going to die?"
+
+He asked the question with a sudden wildness--a sudden horror of death,
+half starting up in bed. Still the doctor did not speak; still Mrs.
+Hilliard's suppressed sobs echoed in the stillness of the vast room.
+
+Sir Noel Thetford fell back on his pillow, a shadow as ghastly and awful
+as death itself lying on his face. But he was a brave man and the
+descendant of a fearless race; and except for one convulsive throe that
+shook him from head to foot, nothing told his horror of his sudden fate.
+There was a weird pause. Sir Noel lay staring straight at the oaken
+wall, his bloodless face awful in its intensity of hidden feeling. Rain
+and wind outside rose higher and higher, and beat clamorously at the
+windows; and still above them, mighty and terrible, rose the far-off
+voice of the ceaseless sea.
+
+The doctor was the first to speak, in hushed and awe-struck tones.
+
+"My dear Sir Noel, the time is short, and I can do little or nothing.
+Shall I send for the Rev. Mr. Knight?"
+
+The dying eyes turned upon him with a steady gaze.
+
+"How long have I to live? I want the truth."
+
+"Sir Noel, it is very hard, yet it must be Heaven's will. But a few
+hours, I fear."
+
+"So soon?" said the dying man. "I did not think----Send for Lady
+Thetford," he cried, wildly, half raising himself again--"send for Lady
+Thetford at once!"
+
+"We have sent for her," said the doctor; "she will be here very soon.
+But the clergyman, Sir Noel--the clergyman. Shall we not send for him?"
+
+"No!" said Sir Noel, sharply. "What do I want of a clergyman? Leave me,
+both of you. Stay, you can give me something, Gale, to keep up my
+strength to the last? I shall need it. Now go. I want to see no one but
+Lady Thetford."
+
+"My lady has come!" cried Mrs. Hilliard, starting to her feet; and at
+the same moment the door was opened by Arneaud, and a lady in a
+sparkling ball-dress swept in. She stood for a moment on the threshold,
+looking from face to face with a bewildered air.
+
+She was very young--scarcely twenty, and unmistakably beautiful. Taller
+than common, willowy and slight, with great, dark eyes, flowing dark
+curls, and a colorless olive skin. The darkly handsome face, with pride
+in every feature, was blanched now almost to the hue of the dying man's;
+but that glittering, bride-like figure, with its misty point-lace and
+blazing diamonds, seemed in strange contradiction to the idea of death.
+
+"My lady! my lady!" cried Mrs. Hilliard, with a suppressed sob, moving
+near her.
+
+The deep, dark eyes turned upon her for an instant, then wandered back
+to the bed; but she never moved.
+
+"Ada," said Sir Noel, faintly, "come here. The rest of you go. I want no
+one but my wife."
+
+The graceful figure in its shining robes and jewels, flitted over and
+dropped on its knees by his side. The other three quitted the room and
+closed the door. Husband and wife were alone with only death to
+overhear.
+
+"Ada, my poor girl, only five months a wife--it is very hard on you; but
+it seems I must go. I have a great deal to say to you, Ada--that I can't
+die without saying. I have been a villain, Ada--the greatest villain on
+earth to you."
+
+She had not spoken. She did not speak. She knelt beside him, white and
+still, looking and listening with strange calm. There was a sort of
+white horror in her face, but very little of the despairing grief one
+would naturally look for in the dying man's wife.
+
+"I don't ask you to forgive me, Ada--I have wronged you too deeply for
+that; but I loved you so dearly--so dearly! Oh, my God! what a lost and
+cruel wretch I have been."
+
+He lay panting and gasping for breath. There was a draught which Dr.
+Gale had left standing near, and he made a motion for it. She held it to
+his lips, and he drank; her hand was unsteady and spilled it, but still
+she never spoke.
+
+"I cannot speak loudly, Ada," he said, in a husky whisper, "my strength
+seems to grow less every moment; but I want you to promise me before I
+begin my story that you will do what I ask. Promise! promise!"
+
+He grasped her wrist and glared at her almost fiercely.
+
+"Promise!" he reiterated. "Promise! promise!"
+
+"I promise," she said, with white lips.
+
+"May Heaven deal with you, Ada Thetford, as you keep that promise.
+Listen now."
+
+The wild night wore on. The cries of the wind in the trees grew louder
+and wilder and more desolate. The rain beat and beat against the
+curtained glass; the candles grettered and flared; and the wood-fire
+flickered and died out.
+
+And still, long after the midnight hour had tolled, Ada, Lady Thetford,
+in her lace and silk and jewels, knelt beside her young husband, and
+listened to the dark and shameful story he had to tell. She never once
+faltered, she never spoke or stirred; but her face was whiter than her
+dress, and her great dark eyes dilated with a horror too intense for
+words.
+
+The voice of the dying man sank lower and lower--it fell to a dull,
+choking whisper at last.
+
+"You have heard all," he said huskily.
+
+"All?"
+
+The word dropped from her lips like ice--the frozen look of blank horror
+never left her face.
+
+"And you will keep your promise?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"God bless you! I can die now! Oh, Ada! I cannot ask you to forgive me;
+but I love you so much--so much! Kiss me once, Ada, before I go."
+
+His voice failed even with the words. Lady Thetford bent down and
+kissed him, but her lips were as cold and white as his own.
+
+They were the last words Sir Noel Thetford ever spoke. The restless sea
+was sullenly ebbing, and the soul of the man was floating away with it.
+The gray, chill light of a new day was dawning over the Devonshire
+fields, rainy and raw, and with its first pale ray the soul of Noel
+Thetford, baronet, left the earth forever.
+
+An hour later, Mrs. Hilliard and Dr. Gale ventured to enter. They had
+rapped again and again; but there had been no response, and alarmed they
+had come in. Stark and rigid already lay what was mortal of the Lord of
+Thetford Towers; and still on her knees, with that frozen look on her
+face, knelt his living wife.
+
+"My lady! my lady!" cried Mrs. Hilliard, her tears falling like rain.
+"Oh! my dear lady, come away!"
+
+She looked up; then again at the marble form on the bed, and without a
+word or cry, slipped back in the old housekeeper's arms in a dead faint.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+CAPT. EVERARD.
+
+
+It was a very grand and stately ceremonial, that funeral procession from
+Thetford Towers. A week after that stormy December night they laid Sir
+Noel Thetford in the family vault, where generation after generation of
+his race slept their last long sleep. The gentry for miles and miles
+around were there, and among them came the heir-at-law, the Rev. Horace
+Thetford, only an obscure country curate now, but failing male heirs to
+Sir Noel, successor to the Thetford estate and fifteen thousand a year.
+
+In a bedchamber, luxurious as wealth can make a room, lay Lady Thetford,
+dangerously ill. It was not a brain fever exactly, but something very
+like it into which she had fallen, coming out of the death-like swoon.
+It was all very sad and shocking--the sudden death of the gay and
+handsome young baronet, and the serious illness of his poor wife. The
+funeral oration of the Rev. Mr. Knight, rector of St. Gosport, from the
+text, "In the midst of life we are in death," was most eloquent and
+impressive, and women with tender hearts shed tears, and men listened
+with grave, sad faces. It was such a little while--only five short
+months--since the wedding-bells had rung, and there had been bonfires
+and feasting throughout the village; and Sir Noel, looking so proud and
+so happy, had driven up to the illuminated hall with his handsome bride.
+Only five months; and now--and now.
+
+The funeral was over and everybody had gone back home--everybody but the
+Rev. Horace Thetford, who lingered to see the result of my lady's
+illness, and if she died, to take possession of his estate. It was
+unutterably dismal in the dark, hushed old house, with Sir Noel's ghost
+seeming to haunt every room--very dismal and ghastly this waiting to
+step into dead people's shoes. But then there was fifteen thousand a
+year, and the finest place in Devonshire; and the Rev. Horace would have
+faced a whole regiment of ghosts and lived in a vault for that.
+
+But Lady Thetford did not die. Slowly but surely, the fever that had
+worn her to a shadow left her; and by-and-bye, when the early primroses
+peeped through the first blackened earth, she was able to come
+down-stairs--to come down feeble and frail and weak, colorless as death
+and as silent and cold.
+
+The Rev. Horace went back to Yorkshire, yet not entirely in despair.
+Female heirs could not inherit Thetford--he stood a chance yet; and the
+widow, not yet twenty, was left alone in the dreary old mansion. People
+were very sorry for her, and came to see her, and begged her to be
+resigned to her great loss; and Mr. Knight preached endless homilies on
+patience, and hope, and submission, and Lady Thetford listened to them
+just as if they had been talking Greek. She never spoke of her dead
+husband--she shivered at the mention of his name; but that night at his
+dying bed had changed her as never woman changed before. From a bright,
+ambitious, pleasure-loving girl, she had grown into a silent, haggard,
+hopeless woman. All the sunny spring days she sat by the window of her
+boudoir, gazing at the misty, boundless sea, pale and mute--dead in
+life.
+
+The friends who came to see her, and Mr. Knight, the rector, were a
+little puzzled by this abnormal case, but very sorry for the pale young
+widow, and disposed to think better of her than ever before. It must
+surely have been the vilest slander that she had not cared for her
+husband, that she had married him only for his wealth and title; and
+that young soldier--that captain of dragoons--must have been a myth. She
+might have been engaged to him, of course, before Sir Noel came, that
+seemed to be an undisputed fact; and she might have jilted him for a
+wealthier lover, that was all a common case. But she must have loved her
+husband very dearly, or she never would have been broken-hearted like
+this at his loss.
+
+Spring deepened into summer. The June roses in the flower-gardens of the
+Thetford were in rosy bloom, and my lady was ill again--very, very ill.
+There was an eminent physician down from London, and there was a frail
+little mite of babyhood lying among lace and flannel; and the eminent
+physician shook his head, and looked portentously grave as he glanced
+from the crib to the bed. Whiter than the pillows, whiter than snow,
+Ada, Lady Thetford, lay, hovering in the Valley of the Shadow of Death;
+that other feeble little life seemed flickering, too--it was so even a
+toss up between the great rival powers, Life and Death, that a straw
+might have turned the scale either way. So slight being that baby-hold
+of gasping breath, that Mr. Knight, in the absence of any higher
+authority, and in the unconsciousness of the mother, took it upon
+himself to baptize it. So a china bowl was brought, and Mrs. Hilliard
+held the bundle of flannel and long white robes, and the child was
+named--the name which the mother had said weeks ago it was to be called,
+if a boy--Rupert Noel Vandeleur Thetford; for it was a male heir, and
+the Rev. Horace's cake was dough.
+
+Days went by, weeks, months, and to the surprise of the eminent
+physician neither mother nor child died. Summer waned, winter returned;
+and the anniversary of Sir Noel's death came round, and my lady was able
+to walk down-stairs, shivering in the warm air under all her wraps. She
+had expressed no pleasure or thankfulness in her own safety, or that of
+her child. She had asked eagerly if it were a boy or a girl; and hearing
+its sex, had turned her face to the wall, and lay for hours and hours
+speechless and motionless. Yet it was very dear to her, too, by fits and
+starts as it were. She would hold it in her arms half a day, sometimes
+covering it with kisses, with jealous, passionate love, crying over it,
+and half smothering it with caresses; and then, again, in a fit of
+sullen apathy, would resign it to its nurse, and not ask to see it for
+hours. It was very strange and inexplicable, her conduct, altogether;
+more especially, as with her return to health came no return of
+cheerfulness and hope. The dark gloom that overshadowed her life seemed
+to settle into a chronic disease, rooted and incurable. She never went
+out; she returned no visits; she gave no invitations to those who came
+to repeat theirs. Gradually people fell off; they grew tired of that
+sullen coldness in which Lady Thetford wrapped herself as in a mantle,
+until Mr. Knight and Dr. Gale grew to be almost her only visitors.
+"Mariana, in the Moated Grange," never led a more solitary and dreary
+existence than the handsome young widow, who dwelt a recluse at Thetford
+Towers; for she was very handsome still, of a pale moonlit sort of
+beauty, the great, dark eyes, and abundant dark hair, making her fixed
+and changeless pallor all the more remarkable.
+
+Months and seasons went by. Summers followed winters, and Lady Thetford
+still buried herself alive in the gray old manor--and the little heir
+was six years old. A delicate child still, puny and sickly, and petted
+and spoiled, and indulged in every childish whim and caprice. His
+mother's image and idol--no look of the fair-haired, sanguine, blue-eyed
+Thetford sturdiness in his little, pinched, pale face, large, dark eyes,
+and crisp, black ringlets. The years had gone by like a slow dream; life
+was stagnant enough in St. Gosport, doubly stagnant at Thetford Towers,
+whose mistress rarely went abroad beyond her own gates, save when she
+took her little son out for an airing in the pony phaeton.
+
+She had taken him out for one of those airings on a July afternoon, when
+he had nearly accomplished his seventh year. They had driven seaward
+some miles from the manor-house, and Lady Thetford and her little boy
+had got out, and were strolling leisurely up and down the hot, white
+stands, while the groom waited with the pony-phaeton just within sight.
+
+The long July afternoon wore on. The sun that had blazed all day like a
+wheel of fire, dropped lower and lower into the crimson west. The wide
+sea shone red with the reflections of the lurid glory in the heavens,
+and the numberless waves glittered and flashed as if sown with stars. A
+faint, far-off breeze swept over the sea, salt and cold; and the
+fishermen's boats danced along with the red sunset glinting on their
+sails.
+
+Up and down, slowly and thoughtfully, the lady walked, her eyes fixed on
+the wide sea. As the rising breeze met her, she drew the scarlet shawl
+she wore over her black silk dress closer around her, and glanced at her
+boy. The little fellow was running over the sands, tossing pebbles into
+the surf, and hunting for shells; and her eyes left him and wandered
+once more to the lurid splendor of that sunset on the sea. It was very
+quiet here, with no living thing in sight but themselves; so the lady's
+start of astonishment was natural when, turning an abrupt angle in the
+path leading to the shore, she saw a man coming toward her over the
+sands. A tall, powerful-looking man of thirty, bronzed and handsome, and
+with an unmistakably military air, although in plain black clothes. The
+lady took a second look, then stood stock still, and gazed like one in a
+dream. The man approached, lifted his hat, and stood silent and grave
+before her.
+
+"Captain Everard!"
+
+"Yes, Lady Thetford--after eight years--Captain Everard again."
+
+The deep, strong voice suited the bronzed, grave face, and both had a
+peculiar power of their own. Lady Thetford, very, very pale, held out
+one fair jeweled hand.
+
+"Captain Everard, I am very glad to see you again."
+
+He bent over the little hand a moment, then dropped it, and stood
+looking at her silent.
+
+"I thought you were in India," she said, trying to be at ease. "When did
+you return?"
+
+"A month ago. My wife is dead. I, too, am widowed, Lady Thetford."
+
+"I am very sorry to hear it," she said, gravely. "Did she die in India?"
+
+"Yes; and I have come home with my little daughter."
+
+"Your daughter! Then she left a child?"
+
+"One. It is on her account I have come. The climate killed her mother. I
+had mercy on her daughter, and have brought her home."
+
+"I am sorry for your wife. Why did she remain in India?"
+
+"Because she preferred death to leaving me. She loved me, Lady
+Thetford!"
+
+His powerful eyes were on her face--that pale, beautiful face, into
+which the blood came for an instant at his words. She looked at him,
+then away over the darkening sea.
+
+"And you, my lady--you gained the desire to your heart, wealth, and a
+title? Let me hope they have made you a happy woman."
+
+"I am not happy!"
+
+"No? But you have been--you were while Sir Noel lived?"
+
+"My husband was very good to me, Captain Everard. His death was the
+greatest misfortune that could have befallen me."
+
+"But you are young, you are free, you are rich, you are beautiful. You
+may wear a coronet next time."
+
+His face and glance were so darkly grave, that the covert sneer was
+almost hidden. But she felt it.
+
+"I shall never marry again, Captain Everard."
+
+"Never? You surprise me! Six years--nay, seven, a widow, and with
+innumerable attractions. Oh, you cannot mean it!"
+
+She made a sudden, passionate gesture--looked at him, then away.
+
+"It is useless--worse than useless, folly, madness, to lift the veil
+from the irrevocable past. But don't you think, don't you, Lady
+Thetford, that you might have been equally happy if you had married
+_me_?"
+
+She made no reply. She stood gazing seaward, cold and still.
+
+"I was madly, insanely, absurdly in love with pretty Ada Vandeleur in
+those days, and I think I would have made her a good husband; better,
+however--forgive me--than I ever made my poor dead wife. But you were
+wise and ambitious, my pretty Ada, and bartered your black eyes and
+raven ringlets to a higher bidder. You jilted me in cold blood, poor
+love-sick devil that I was, and reigned resplendent as my Lady Thetford.
+Ah! you knew how to choose the better part, my pretty Ada!"
+
+"Captain Everard, I am sorry for the past--I have atoned, if suffering
+can atone. Have a little pity, and let me alone!"
+
+He stood and looked at her silently, gravely. Then said, in a voice deep
+and calm:
+
+"We are both free! Will you marry me now, Ada!"
+
+"I cannot!"
+
+"But I love you--I have always loved you. And you--I used to think you
+loved me!"
+
+He was strangely calm and passionless, voice and glance and face. But
+Lady Thetford had covered _her_ face, and was sobbing.
+
+"I did--I do--I always have! But I cannot marry you. I will love you all
+my life; but don't, _don't_ ask me to be your wife!"
+
+"As you please!" he said, in the same passionless voice. "I think it is
+best myself; for the George Everard of to-day is not the George Everard
+who loved you eight years ago. We would not be happy--I know that. Ada,
+is that your son?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I should like to look at him. Here, my little baronet! I want to see
+you."
+
+The boy, who had been looking curiously at the stranger, ran up at a
+sign from his mother. The tall captain lifted him in his arms and gazed
+in his small, thin face, with which his bright tartan plaid contrasted
+harshly.
+
+"He hasn't a look of the Thetfords. He is your own son, Ada. My little
+baronet, what is your name?"
+
+"Sir Rupert Thetford," answered the child, struggling to get free. "Let
+me go--I don't know you!"
+
+The captain set him down with a grim smile; and the boy clung to his
+mother's skirts, and eyed the tall stranger askance.
+
+"I want to go home, mamma! I'm tired and hungry."
+
+"Presently, dearest. Run to William, he has cake for you. Captain
+Everard, I shall be happy to have you at dinner."
+
+"Thanks; but I must decline. I go back to London to-night. I sail for
+India again in a week."
+
+"So soon! I thought you meant to remain."
+
+"Nothing is further from my intentions. I merely brought my little girl
+over to provide her a home; that is why I have troubled _you_. Will you
+do me this kindness, Lady Thetford?"
+
+"Take your little girl? Oh, most gladly--most willingly!"
+
+"Thanks! Her mother's people are French, and I know little about them;
+and, save yourself, I can claim friendship with few in England. She will
+be poor; I have settled on her all I am worth--some three hundred a
+year; and you, Lady Thetford, you can teach her, when she grows up, to
+catch a rich husband."
+
+She took no notice of the taunt; she looked only too happy to render him
+this service.
+
+"I am so pleased! She will be such a nice companion for Rupert. How old
+is she?"
+
+"Nearly four."
+
+"Is she here?"
+
+"No; she is in London. I will fetch her down in a day or two."
+
+"What do you call her?"
+
+"Mabel--after her mother. Then it is settled, Lady Thetford, I am to
+fetch her?"
+
+"I shall be delighted! But won't you dine with me?"
+
+"No. I must catch the evening train. Farewell, Lady Thetford, and many
+thanks! In three days I will be here again."
+
+He lifted his hat and walked away. Lady Thetford watched him out of
+sight, and then turned slowly, as she heard her little boy calling her
+with shrill impatience. The red sunset had faded out; the sea lay gray
+and cold under the twilight sky, and the evening breeze was chill.
+Changes in sky and sea and land told of coming night; and Lady Thetford,
+shivering slightly in the rising wind, hurried away to be driven home.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+"LITTLE MAY."
+
+
+On the evening of the third day after this interview, a fly from the
+railway drove up the long, winding avenue leading to the great front
+entrance of the Thetford mansion. A bronzed military gentleman, a nurse
+and a little girl, occupied the fly, and the gentleman's keen, dark eyes
+wandered searchingly around. Swelling meadows, velvety lawns, sloping
+terraces, waving trees, bright flower-gardens, quaint old fish-ponds,
+sparkling fountains, and a wooded park, with sprightly deer--that was
+what he saw, all bathed in the golden halo of the summer sunset. Massive
+and grand, the old house reared its gray head, half overgrown with ivy
+and climbing roses. Gaudy peacocks strutted on the terraces; a graceful
+gazelle flitted out for an instant amongst the trees to look at them and
+then fled in afright; and the barking of half a dozen mastiffs greeted
+their approach noisily.
+
+"A fine old place," thought Captain Everard. "My pretty Ada might have
+done worse. A grand old place for that puny child to inherit. The
+staunch old warrior-blood of the Thetfords is sadly adulterated in his
+pale veins, I fancy. Well, my little May, and how are you going to like
+all this?"
+
+The child, a bright-faced little creature, with great sparkling eyes and
+rose-bloom cheeks, was looking in delight at a distant terrace.
+
+"See, papa! See all the pretty peacocks! Look, Ellen," to the nurse,
+"three, four, five! Oh, how pretty!"
+
+"Then little May will like to live here, where she can see the pretty
+peacocks every day?"
+
+"And all the pretty flowers, and the water, and the little boy--where's
+the little boy, papa?"
+
+"In the house--you'll see him presently; but you must be very good,
+little May, and not pull his hair, and scratch his face, and poke your
+fingers in his eyes, like you used to do with Willie Brandon. Little May
+must learn to be good."
+
+Little May put one rosy finger in her mouth, and set her head on one
+side like a defiant canary. She was one of the prettiest little fairies
+imaginable, with her pale, flaxen curls, and sparkling light-gray eyes,
+and apple-blossom complexion; but she was evidently as much spoiled as
+little Sir Rupert Thetford himself.
+
+Lady Thetford sat in the long drawing-room, after her solitary dinner,
+and little Sir Rupert played with his rocking-horse and a pile of
+picture-books in a remote corner. The young widow lay back in the
+violet-velvet depths of a carved and gilded _fauteuil_, very simply
+dressed in black and crimson, but looking very fair and stately withal.
+She was watching her boy with a half smile on her face, when a footman
+entered with Captain Everard's card. Lady Thetford looked up eagerly.
+
+"Show Captain Everard up at once."
+
+The footman bowed and disappeared. Five minutes later, and the tall
+captain and his little daughter stood before her.
+
+"At last!" said Lady Thetford, rising and holding out her hand to her
+old lover, with a smile that reminded him of other days--"at last, when
+I was growing tired waiting. And this is your little girl--my little
+girl from henceforth? Come here, my pet, and kiss your new mamma."
+
+She bent over the little one, kissing the pink cheeks and rosy lips.
+
+"She is fair and tiny--a very fairy; but she resembles you,
+nevertheless, Capt. Everard."
+
+"In temper--yes," said the captain. "You will find her spoiled, and
+willful, and cross, and capricious and no end of trouble. Won't she,
+May?"
+
+"She will be the better match for Rupert on that account," Lady Thetford
+said, smiling, and unfastening little Miss Everard's wraps with her own
+fair fingers. "Come here, Rupert, and welcome your new sister."
+
+The young baronet approached, and dutifully kissed little May, who put
+up her rose-bud mouth right willingly. Sir Rupert Thetford wasn't tall,
+rather undersized, and delicate for his seven years; but he was head and
+shoulders over the flaxen-haired fairy, with the bright gray eyes.
+
+"I want a ride on your rocking-horse," cried little May, fraternizing
+with him at once; "and oh! what nice picture books and what a lot!"
+
+The children ran off together to their distant corner, and Captain
+Everard sat down for the first time.
+
+"You have not dined?" said Lady Thetford. "Allow me to----" her hand was
+on the bell, but the captain interposed.
+
+"Many thanks--nothing. We dined at the village; and I leave again by the
+seven-fifty train. It is past seven now, so I have but little time to
+spare. I fear I am putting you to a great deal of trouble; but May's
+nurse insists on being taken back to London to-night."
+
+"It will be of no consequence," replied Lady Thetford, "Rupert's nurse
+will take charge of her. I intend to advertise for a nursery governess
+in a few days. Rupert's health has always been so extremely delicate,
+that he has not even began a pretext of learning yet, and it is quite
+time. He grows stronger, I fancy; but Dr. Gale tells me frankly his
+constitution is dangerously weak."
+
+She sighed as she spoke, and looked over to where he stood beside little
+May, who had mounted the rocking-horse boy-fashion. Sir Rupert was
+expostulating.
+
+"You oughtn't to sit that way--ask mamma. You ought to sit side-saddle.
+Only boys sit like that."
+
+"I don't care!" retorted Miss Everard, rocking more violently than ever.
+"I'll sit whatever way I like! Let me alone!"
+
+Lady Thetford looked at the captain with a smile.
+
+"Her father's daughter, surely! bent on having her own way. What a fairy
+it is! and yet such a perfect picture of health."
+
+"Mabel was never ill an hour in her life, I believe," said her father;
+"she is not at all too good for this world. I only hope she may not grow
+up the torment of your life--she is thoroughly spoiled."
+
+"And I fear if she were not, I should do it. Ah! I expect she will be a
+great comfort to me, and a world of good to Rupert. He has never had a
+playmate of his own years, and children need children as much as they
+need sunshine."
+
+They sat for ten minutes conversing gravely, chiefly on business matters
+connected with little May's annuity--not at all as they had conversed
+three days before by the seaside. Then, as half-past seven drew near,
+the captain arose.
+
+"I must go; I will hardly be in time as it is. Come here, little May,
+and bid papa good-bye."
+
+"Let papa come to May," responded his daughter, still rocking. "I can't
+get off."
+
+Captain Everard laughed, went over, bent down and kissed her.
+
+"Good-bye, May; don't forget papa, and learn to be a good girl. Good
+bye, baronet; try and grow strong and tall. Farewell, Lady Thetford,
+with my best thanks."
+
+She held his hand, looking up in his sun-burned face with tears in her
+dark eyes.
+
+"We may never meet again, Captain Everard," she said hurriedly. "Tell me
+before we part that you forgive me the past."
+
+"Truly, Ada, and for the first time. The service you have rendered me
+fully atones. You should have been my child's mother--be a mother to her
+now. Good-bye, and God bless you and your boy!"
+
+He stooped over, touched her cheek with his lips reverentially, and then
+was gone. Gone forever--never to meet those he left behind this side of
+eternity.
+
+Little May bore the loss of papa and nurse with philosophical
+indifference--her new playmate sufficed for both. The children took to
+one another with the readiness of childhood--Rupert all the more readily
+that he had never before had a playmate of his own years. He was
+naturally a quiet child, caring more for his picture-books and his
+nurse's stories than for tops, or balls, or marbles. But little May
+Everard seemed from the first to inspire him with some of her own
+superabundant vitality and life. The child was never, for a single
+instant, quiet; she was the most restless, the most impetuous, the most
+vigorous little creature that can be conceived. Feet and tongue and
+hands never were still from morning till night; and the life of Sir
+Rupert's nurse, hitherto one of idle ease, became all at once a misery
+to her. The little girl was everywhere--everywhere; especially where she
+had no business to be; and nurse never knew an easy moment for trotting
+after her, and rescuing her from all sorts of perils. She could climb
+like a cat, or a goat, and risked her neck about twenty times per diem;
+she sailed her shoes in the soup when let in as a treat to dinner, and
+washed her hands in her milk-and-water. She became the intimate friend
+of the pretty peacocks and the big, good-tempered dogs, with whom, in
+utter fearlessness, she rolled about in the grass half the day. She
+broke young Rupert's toys, and tore his picture-books and slapped his
+face, and pulled his hair, and made herself master of the situation
+before she had been twenty-four hours in the house. She was thoroughly
+and completely spoiled. What India nurses had left undone, injudicious
+petting and flattery on the homeward passage had completed--and her
+temper was something appalling. Her shrieks of passion at the slightest
+contradiction of her imperial will rang through the house, and rent the
+tortured tympanums of all who heard. The little Xantippe would fling
+herself flat on the carpet, and literally scream herself black in the
+face, until, in dread of apoplexy and sudden death, her frightened
+hearers hastened to yield. Of course, one such victory insured all the
+rest. As for Sir Rupert, before she had been a week at Thetford Towers,
+he dared not call his soul his own. She had partly scalped him on
+several occasions, and left the mark of her cat-like nails in his tender
+visage: but her venomous power of screeching for hours at will had more
+to do with the little baronet's dread of her than anything else. He fled
+ingloriously in every battle--running in tears to mamma, and leaving the
+field and the trophies of victory triumphantly to Miss Everard. With all
+this, when not thwarted--when allowed to smash toys, and dirty her
+clothes, and smear her infantile face, and tear pictures, and torment
+inoffensive lapdogs; when allowed, in short, to follow "her own sweet
+will," little May was as charming a fairy as ever the sun shone on. Her
+gleeful laugh made music in the dreary old rooms, such as had never been
+heard there for many a day, and her mischievous antics were the delight
+of all who did not suffer thereby. The servants petted and indulged her,
+and fed her on unwholesome cakes and sweetmeats, and made her worse and
+worse every day of her life.
+
+Lady Thetford saw all this with inward apprehension. If her ward was
+completely beyond her power of control at four, what would she be a
+dozen years hence?
+
+"Her father was right," thought the lady. "I am afraid she _will_ give
+me a great deal of trouble. I never saw so headstrong, so utterly
+unmanageable a child."
+
+But Lady Thetford was very fond of the fairy despot withal. When her son
+came running to her for succor, drowned in tears, his mother took him in
+her arms and kissed him and soothed him--but she never punished the
+offender. As for Sir Rupert, he might fly ignominiously, but he never
+fought back. Little May had all the hair-pulling and face-scratching to
+herself.
+
+"I must get a governess," mused Lady Thetford. "I may find one who can
+control this little vixen; and it is really time Rupert began his
+studies. I shall speak to Mr. Knight about it."
+
+Lady Thetford sent that very day to the rectory her ladyship's
+compliments, the servant said, and would Mr. Knight call at his earliest
+convenience. Mr. Knight sent in answer to expect him that same evening;
+and on his way he fell in with Dr. Gale, going to the manor-house on a
+professional visit.
+
+"Little Sir Rupert keeps weakly," he said; "no constitution to speak of.
+Not at all like the Thetfords--splendid old stock, the Thetfords, but
+run out--run out. Sir Rupert is a Vandeleur, inherits his mother's
+constitution--delicate child, very."
+
+"Have you seen Lady Thetford's ward!" inquired the clergyman, smiling;
+"no hereditary weakness there, I fancy. I'll answer for the strength of
+her lungs, at any rate. The other day she wanted Lady Thetford's watch
+for a plaything; she couldn't have it, and down she fell flat on the
+floor in what her nurse calls 'one of her tantrums.' You should have
+heard her, her shrieks were appalling."
+
+"I have," said the doctor, with emphasis; "she has the temper of the old
+demon. If I had anything to do with that child, I should whip her within
+an inch of her life--that's all she wants, lots of whipping! The Lord
+only knows the future, but I pity her prospective husband!"
+
+"The taming of the shrew," laughed Mr. Knight. "Katherine and Petruchio
+over again. For my part, I think Lady Thetford was unwise to undertake
+such a charge. With her delicate health it is altogether too much for
+her."
+
+The two gentlemen were shown into the library, whilst the servant went
+to inform his lady of their arrival. The library had a French window
+opening on a sloping lawn, and here chasing butterflies in high glee,
+were the two children--the pale, dark-eyed baronet, and the
+flaxen-tressed little East Indian.
+
+"Look," said Dr. Gale. "Is Sir Rupert going to be your Petruchio? Who
+knows what the future may bring forth--who knows that we do not behold a
+future Lady Thetford?"
+
+"She is very pretty," said the rector thoughtfully, "and she may change
+with years. Your prophecy may be fulfilled."
+
+The present Lady Thetford entered as he spoke. She had heard the remarks
+of both, and there was an unusual pallor and gravity in her face as she
+advanced to receive them.
+
+Little Sir Rupert was called in, and May followed, with a butterfly
+crushed to death in each fat little hand.
+
+"She kills them as fast as she catches them," said Sir Rupert, ruefully.
+"It's cruel, isn't it, mamma?"
+
+Little May, quite unabashed, displayed her dead prizes, and cut short
+the doctor's conference by impatiently pulling her play-fellow away.
+
+"Come, Rupert, come," she cried. "I want to catch the black one with the
+yellow wings. Stick your tongue out and come."
+
+Sir Rupert displayed his tongue, and submitted his pulse to the doctor,
+and let himself be pulled away by May.
+
+"The gray mare in that span is decidedly the better horse," laughed the
+doctor. "What a little despot in pinafores it is."
+
+When her visitors had left, Lady Thetford walked to the window and stood
+watching the two children racing in the sunshine. It was a pretty sight,
+but the lady's face was contracted with pain.
+
+"No, no," she thought. "I hope not--I pray not. Strange! but I never
+thought of the possibility before. She will be poor, and Rupert must
+marry a rich wife, so that if----"
+
+She paused, with a sort of shudder, then added:
+
+"What will he think, my darling boy, of his father and mother if that
+day ever comes?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+MRS. WEYMORE.
+
+
+Lady Thetford had settled her business satisfactorily with the rector of
+St Gosport.
+
+"Nothing could be more opportune," he said. "I am going to London next
+week on business which will detain me upward of a fortnight. I will
+immediately advertise for such a person as you want."
+
+"You must understand," said her ladyship, "I do not require a young
+girl. I wish a middle-aged person--a widow, for instance, who has had
+children of her own. Both Rupert and May are spoiled--May particularly
+is perfectly unmanageable. A young girl as governess for her would never
+do."
+
+Mr. Knight departed with these instructions and the following week
+started for the great metropolis. An advertisement was at once inserted
+in the _Times_ newspaper, stating all Lady Thetford's requirements, and
+desiring immediate application. Another week later, and Lady Thetford
+received the following communication:
+
+     "DEAR LADY THETFORD--I have been fairly besieged with
+     applications for the past week--all widows, and all professing
+     to be thoroughly competent. Clergyman's widows, doctors'
+     widows, officers' widows--all sorts of widows. I never before
+     thought so many could apply for one situation. I have chosen
+     one in sheer desperation--the widow of a country gentleman in
+     distressed circumstances, who, I think, will suit. She is
+     eminently respectable in appearance, quiet and lady-like in
+     manner, with five years' experience in the nursery-governess
+     line, and the highest recommendation from her late employers.
+     She has lost a child, she tells me, and from her looks and
+     manner altogether, I should judge she was a person conversant
+     with misfortune. She will return with me early next week--her
+     name is Mrs. Weymore."
+
+Lady Thetford read this letter with a little sigh of relief--some one
+else would have the temper and outbreaks of little May to contend with
+now. She wrote to Captain Everard that same day, to announce his
+daughter's well-being, and inform him that she had found a suitable
+governess to take charge of her.
+
+The second day of the ensuing week the rector and the new governess
+arrived. A fly from the railway brought her and her luggage to Thetford
+Towers late in the afternoon, and she was taken at once to the room that
+had been prepared for her, whilst the servant went to inform Lady
+Thetford of her arrival.
+
+"Fetch her here at once," said her ladyship, who was alone, as usual, in
+the long drawing-room with the children, "I wish to see her."
+
+Ten minutes after the drawing-room door was flung open, and "Mrs.
+Weymore, my lady," announced the footman.
+
+Lady Thetford arose to receive her new dependent, who bowed and stood
+before her with a somewhat fluttered and embarrassed air. She was quite
+young, not older than my lady herself, and eminently good-looking. The
+tall, slender figure, clad in widow's weeds, was as symmetrical as Lady
+Thetford's own, and the full black dress set off the pearly fairness of
+the blonde skin, and the rich abundance of fair hair. Lady Thetford's
+brows contracted a little; her fair, subdued, gentle-looking, girlish
+young woman, was hardly the strong-minded, middle-aged matron she had
+expected to take the nonsense out of obstreperous May Everard.
+
+"Mrs. Weymore, I believe," said Lady Thetford, resuming her
+_fauteuil_, "pray be seated. I wished to see you at once, because
+I am going out this evening. You have had five years' experience as a
+nursery-governess, Mr. Knight tells me."
+
+"Yes, my lady."
+
+There was a little tremor in Mrs. Weymore's low voice, and her blue eyes
+shifted and fell under Lady Thetford's steady and somewhat haughty gaze.
+
+"Yet you look young--much younger than I imagined, or wished."
+
+"I am twenty-seven years old, my lady."
+
+That was my lady's own age precisely, but she looked half a dozen years
+the elder of the two.
+
+"Are you a native of London?"
+
+"No, my lady, of Berkshire."
+
+"And you have been a widow, how long?"
+
+What ailed Mrs. Weymore? She was all white and trembling--even her
+hands, folded and pressed together in her lap, shook in spite of her.
+
+"Eight years and more."
+
+She said it with a sort of sob, hysterically choked. Lady Thetford
+looked on surprised, and a trifle displeased. She was a very proud
+woman, and certainly wished for no scene with her hired dependents.
+
+"Eight years is a tolerable time," she said, coolly. "You have lost
+children?"
+
+"One, my lady."
+
+Again that choked, hysterical sob. My lady vent on pitilessly.
+
+"Is it long ago?"
+
+"When--when I lost its father?"
+
+"Ah! both together? That was rather hard. Well, I hope you understand
+the management of children--spoiled ones particularly. Here are the two
+you are to take charge of. Rupert--May come here."
+
+The children came over from their corner. Mrs. Weymore drew May toward
+her, but Sir Rupert held aloof.
+
+"This is my ward--this is my son. I presume Mr. Knight has told you. If
+you can subdue the temper of that child, you will prove yourself,
+indeed, a treasure. The east parlor has been fitted up for your use; the
+children will take their meals there with you; the room adjoining is to
+be the school-room. I have appointed one of the maids to wait on you. I
+trust you will find your chamber comfortable."
+
+"Exceedingly so, my lady."
+
+"And the terms proposed by Mr. Knight suit you?"
+
+Mrs. Weymore bowed. Lady Thetford rose to close the interview.
+
+"You must need refreshment and rest after your journey. I will not
+detain you longer. To-morrow your duties will commence."
+
+She rang the bell--directed the servant who came to show the governess
+to the east parlor and see to her wants, and then to send nurse for the
+children. Fifteen minutes after she drove away in the pony-phaeton,
+whilst the new governess stood by the window of the east parlor and
+watched her vanish in the amber haze of the August sunset.
+
+Lady Thetford's business in St. Gosport detained her a couple of hours.
+The big, white, August moon was rising as she drove slowly homeward, and
+the nightingales sang its vesper lay in the scented hedge-rows. As she
+passed the rectory she saw Mr. Knight leaning over his own gate enjoying
+the placid beauty of the summer evening, and Lady Thetford reined in her
+ponies to speak to him.
+
+"So happy to see your ladyship! Won't you alight and come in? Mrs.
+Knight will be delighted."
+
+"Not this evening, I think. Had you much trouble about my business?"
+
+"I had applicants enough, certainly," laughed the rector. "I had reason
+to remember Mr. Weller's immortal advice, 'Beware of widders.' How do
+you like your governess?"
+
+"I have hardly had time to form an opinion. She is younger than I could
+desire."
+
+"She looks much younger than the age she gives, I know; but that is a
+common case. I trust my choice will prove satisfactory--her references
+are excellent. Your ladyship has had an interview with her?"
+
+"A very brief one. Her manner struck me unpleasantly--so odd, and shy,
+and nervous. I hardly know how to characterize it; but she may be a
+paragon of governesses, for all that. Good evening; best regards to Mrs.
+Knight. Call soon and see how your _protégé_ gets on."
+
+Lady Thetford drove away. As she alighted from the pony-carriage and
+ascended the great front steps of the house, she saw the pale governess
+still seated at the window of the east parlor, gazing dejectedly out at
+the silvery moonlight.
+
+"A most woeful countenance," thought my lady. "There is some deeper
+grief than the loss of a husband and child eight years ago, the matter
+with that woman. I don't like her."
+
+No, Lady Thetford did not like the meek and submissive looking
+governess, but the children and the rest of the household did. Sir
+Rupert and little May took to her at once--her gentle voice, her tender
+smile seemed to win its way to their capricious favor; and before the
+end of the first week she had more influence over them than mother and
+nurse together. The subdued and gentle governess soon had the love of
+all at Thetford Towers, except its mistress, from Mrs. Hilliard, the
+stately housekeeper, down. She was courteous and considerate, so anxious
+to avoid giving trouble. Above all, that fixed expression of hopeless
+trouble on her sad, pale face, made its way to every heart. She had full
+charge of the children now; they took their meals with her, and she had
+them in her keeping the best part of the day--an office that was no
+sinecure. When they were with their nurse, or my lady, the governess sat
+alone in the east parlor, looking out dreamily at the summer landscape,
+with her own brooding thoughts.
+
+One evening when she had been at Thetford Towers over a fortnight, Mrs.
+Hilliard, coming in, found her sitting dreamily by herself neither
+reading nor working. The children were in the drawing-room, and her
+duties were over for the day.
+
+"I am afraid you don't make yourself at home here," said the
+good-natured housekeeper; "you stay too much alone, and it isn't good
+for young people like you."
+
+"I am used to solitude," replied the governess with a smile, that ended
+in a sigh, "and I have grown to like it. Will you take a seat?"
+
+"No," said Mrs. Hilliard. "I heard you say the other day you would like
+to go over the house; so, as I have a couple of hours leisure, I will
+show it to you now."
+
+The governess rose eagerly.
+
+"I have been wanting to see it so much," she said, "but I feared to give
+trouble by asking. It is very good of you to think of me, dear Mrs.
+Hilliard."
+
+"She isn't much used to people thinking of her," reflected the
+housekeeper, "or she wouldn't be so grateful for trifles. Let me see,"
+aloud, "you have seen the drawing-room and library, and that is all,
+except your own apartments. Well, come this way, I'll show you the old
+south wing."
+
+Through the long corridors, up wide, black, slippery staircases, into
+vast, unused rooms, where ghostly echoes and darkness had it all to
+themselves, Mrs. Hilliard led the governess.
+
+"These apartments have been unused since before the late Sir Noel's
+time," said Mrs. Hilliard; "his father kept them full in the hunting
+season, and at Christmas time. Since Sir Noel's death, my lady has shut
+herself up and received no company, and gone nowhere. She is beginning
+to go out more of late than she has done ever since his death."
+
+Mrs. Hilliard was not looking at the governess, or she might have been
+surprised at the nervous restlessness and agitation of her manner, as
+she listened to these very commonplace remarks.
+
+"Lady Thetford was very much attached to her husband, then?" Mrs.
+Weymore said, her voice tremulous.
+
+"Ah! that she was! She must have been, for his death nearly killed her.
+It was sudden enough, and shocking enough, goodness knows! I shall never
+forget that dreadful night. This is the old banqueting-hall, Mrs.
+Weymore, the largest and dreariest room in the house."
+
+Mrs. Weymore, trembling very much, either with cold or that
+unaccountable nervousness of hers, hardly looked round at the vast
+wilderness of a room.
+
+"You were with the late Sir Noel, then, when he died?"
+
+"Yes, until my lady came. Ah! it was a dreadful thing! He had taken her
+to a ball, and riding home his horse threw him. We sent for the doctor
+and my lady at once; and when she came, all white and scared like, he
+sent us out of the room. He was as calm and sensible as you or me, but
+he seemed to have something on his mind. My lady was shut up with him
+for about three hours, and then we went in--Dr. Gale and me. I shall
+never forget that sad sight. Poor Sir Noel was dead, and she was
+kneeling beside him in her ball dress, like somebody turned to stone. I
+spoke to her, and she looked up at me, and then fell back in my arms in
+a fainting fit. Are you cold, Mrs. Weymore, that you shake so?"
+
+"No--yes--it is this desolate room, I think," the governess answered,
+hardly able to speak.
+
+"It _is_ desolate. Come, I'll show you the billiard-room, and then we'll
+go up-stairs to the room Sir Noel died in. Everything remains just as it
+was--no one has ever slept there since. If you only knew, Mrs. Weymore,
+what a sad time it was; but you do know, poor dear! you have lost a
+husband yourself!"
+
+The governess flung up her hands before her face with a suppressed cry
+so full of anguish that the housekeeper stared at her aghast. Almost as
+quickly she recovered herself again.
+
+"Don't mind me," she said, in a choking voice, "I can't help it. You
+don't know what I suffered--what I still suffer. Oh, pray, don't mind
+me!"
+
+"Certainly not my dear," said Mrs. Hilliard, thinking inwardly the
+governess was a very odd person, indeed.
+
+They looked at the billiard-room, where the tables stood, dusty and
+disused, and the balls lay idly by.
+
+"I don't know when it will be used again," said Mrs. Hilliard; "perhaps
+not until Sir Rupert grows up. There was a time," lowering her voice,
+"that I thought he would never live to be as old and strong as he is
+now. He was the puniest baby, Mrs. Weymore, you ever looked at--nobody
+thought he would live. And that would have been a pity, you know; for
+then the Thetford estate would have gone to a distant branch of the
+family, as it would, too, if Sir Rupert had been a little girl."
+
+She went on up-stairs to the inhabited part of the building, followed by
+Mrs. Weymore, who seemed to grow more and more agitated with every word
+the housekeeper said.
+
+"This is Sir Noel's room," said Mrs. Hilliard, in an awe-struck whisper,
+as if the dead man still lay there; "no one ever enters here but me."
+
+She unlocked it as she spoke, and went in. Mrs. Weymore followed, with a
+face of frightened pallor that struck even the housekeeper.
+
+"Good gracious me! Mrs. Weymore, what is the matter? You are as pale as
+a ghost. Are you afraid to enter a room where a person has died?"
+
+Mrs. Weymore's reply was almost inaudible; she stood on the threshold,
+pallid, trembling, unaccountably moved. The housekeeper glanced at her
+suspiciously.
+
+"Very odd," she thought, "very! The new governess is either the most
+nervous person I ever met, or else--no, she can't have known Sir Noel in
+his lifetime. Of course not."
+
+They left the chamber after a cursory glance around--Mrs. Weymore never
+advancing beyond the threshold. She had not spoken, and that white
+pallor made her face ghastly still.
+
+"I'll show you the picture-gallery," said Mrs. Hilliard; "and then, I
+believe, you will have seen all that is worth seeing at Thetford
+Towers."
+
+She led the way to a long, high-lighted room, wainscoted and antique,
+like all the rest, where long rows of dead and gone Thetfords looked
+down from the carved walls. There were knights in armor, countesses in
+ruffles and powder and lace, bishops in mitre on head and crozier in
+hand, and judges in gown and wig. There were ladies in pointed
+stomachers and jeweled fans, with the waists of their dresses under
+their arms, but all fair and handsome, and unmistakably alike. Last of
+all the long array, there was Sir Noel, a fair-haired, handsome youth of
+twenty, with a smile on his face and a happy radiance in his blue eyes.
+And by his side, dark and haughty and beautiful, was my lady in her
+bridal-robes.
+
+"There is not a handsomer face amongst them all than my lady's," said
+Mrs. Hilliard, with pride. "You ought to have seen her when Sir Noel
+first brought her home; she was the most beautiful creature I ever
+looked at. Ah! it was such a pity he was killed. I suppose they'll be
+having Sir Rupert's taken next and hung beside her. He don't look much
+like the Thetfords; he's his mother over again--a Vandeleur, dark and
+still."
+
+If Mrs. Weymore made any reply the housekeeper did not catch it; she was
+standing with her face averted, hardly looking at the portraits, and was
+the first to leave the picture-gallery.
+
+There were a few more rooms to be seen--a drawing-room suite, now closed
+and disused; an ancient library, with a wonderful stained window, and a
+vast echoing reception-room. But it was all over at last, and Mrs.
+Hilliard, with her keys, trotted cheerfully off; and Mrs. Weymore was
+left to solitude and her own thoughts once more.
+
+A strange person, certainly. She locked the door and fell down on her
+knees by the bedside, sobbing until her whole form was convulsed.
+
+"Oh! why did I come here? Why did I come here?" came passionately with
+the wild storm of sobs. "I might have known how it would be! Nearly nine
+years--nine lone, long years, and not to have forgotten yet!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+A JOURNEY TO LONDON.
+
+
+Very slowly, very monotonously went life at Thetford Towers. The only
+noticable change and that my lady went rather more into society, and a
+greater number of visitors came to the manor. There had been a
+children's party on the occasion of Sir Rupert's eighth birthday, and
+Mrs. Weymore had played for the little people to dance; and my lady had
+cast off her chronic gloom, had been handsome and happy as of old. There
+had been a dinner-party later--an imprecedented event now at Thetford
+Towers; and the weeds, worn so long, had been discarded, and in diamonds
+and black velvet Lady Ada Thetford had been beautiful, and stately, and
+gracious, as a young queen. No one knew the reason of the sudden change,
+but they accepted the fact just as they found it, and set it down,
+perhaps, to woman's caprice.
+
+So slowly the summer passed: autumn came and went, and it was December,
+and the ninth anniversary of Sir Noel's death.
+
+A gloomy day--wet, and wild, and windy. The wind, sweeping over the
+angry sea, surged and roared through the skeleton trees; the rain lashed
+the windows in rattling gusts; and the leaden sky hung low and frowning
+over the drenched and dreary earth. A dismal day--very like that other,
+nine years ago, that had been Sir Noel's last.
+
+In Lady Thetford's boudoir a bright-red coal fire blazed. Pale-blue
+curtains of satin damask shut out the wintry prospect, and the softest
+and richest of foreign carpets hushed every footfall. Before the fire,
+on a little table, my lady's breakfast temptingly stood; the silver, old
+and quaint; the rare antique porcelain sparkling in the ruddy firelight.
+An easy chair, carved and gilded, and cushioned in azure velvet, stood
+by the table; and near my lady's plate lay the letters and papers the
+morning's mail had brought.
+
+A toy of a clock on the low marble mantle chimed musically ten as my
+lady entered. In her dainty morning negligée, with her dark hair
+rippling and falling low on her neck, she looked very young, and fair,
+and graceful. Behind her came her maid, a blooming English girl, who
+took off the cover and poured out my lady's chocolate.
+
+Lady Thetford sank languidly into the azure velvet depths of her
+_fautenuil_, and took up her letters. There were three--one a note from
+her man of business; one an invitation to a dinner-party; and the third,
+a big official-looking document, with a huge seal, and no end of
+postmarks. The languid eyes suddenly lighted; the pale cheeks flushed as
+she took it eagerly up. It was a letter from India from Capt. Everard.
+
+Lady Thetford sipped her chocolate, and read her letter leisurely, with
+her slippered feet on the shining fender. It was a long letter, and she
+read it over slowly twice, three times, before she laid it down. She
+finished her breakfast, motioned her maid to remove the service, and
+lying back in her chair, with her deep, dark eyes fixed dreamily on the
+fire, she fell into a reverie of other days far gone. The lover of her
+girlhood came back to her from over the sea. He was lying at her feet
+once more in the long summer days, under the waving trees of her
+girlhood's home. Ah, how happy! how happy she had been in those by-gone
+days, before Sir Noel Thetford had come, with his wealth and his title,
+to tempt her from her love and truth.
+
+Eleven struck, twelve from the musical clock on the mantle, and still my
+lady sat living in the past. Outside the wintry storm raged on; the rain
+clamored against the curtained glass, and the wind worried the trees.
+With a long sigh my lady awoke from her dream, and mechanically took up
+the _Times_ newspaper--the first of the little heap.
+
+"Vain! vain!" she thought, dreamily; "worse than vain those dreams now.
+With my own hand I threw back the heart that loved me; of my own free
+will I resigned the man I loved. And now the old love, that I thought
+would die in the splendor of my new life, is stronger than ever--and it
+is nine years too late."
+
+She tried to wrench her thoughts away and fix them on her newspaper. In
+vain! her eyes wandered aimlessly over the closely-printed columns--her
+mind was in India with Capt. Everard. All at once she started, uttered a
+sudden, sharp cry, and grasped the paper with dilated eyes and whitening
+cheeks. At the top of a column of "personal" advertisements was one
+which her strained eyes literally devoured.
+
+     "If Mr. Vyking, who ten years ago left a male infant in charge
+     of Mrs. Martha Brand, wishes to keep that child out of the
+     work-house, he will call, within the next five days, at No. 17
+     Wadington Street, Lambeth."
+
+Again and again, and again Lady Thetford read this apparently
+uninteresting advertisement. Slowly the paper dropped into her lap, and
+she sat staring blankly into the fire.
+
+"At last!" she thought, "at last it has come. I fancied all danger was
+over--the death, perhaps, had forestalled me; and now, after all these
+years, I am summoned to keep my broken promise!"
+
+The hue of death had settled on her face; she sat cold and rigid,
+staring with that blank, fixed gaze into the fire. Ceaselessly beat the
+rain; wilder grew the December day; steadily the moments wore on, and
+still she sat in that fixed trance. The armula clock struck two--the
+sound aroused her at last.
+
+"I must!" she said, setting her teeth. "I will! My boy shall not lose
+his birthright, come what may!"
+
+She rose and rang the bell--very pale, but icily calm. Her maid answered
+the summons.
+
+"Eliza," my lady asked, "at what hour does the afternoon train leave St.
+Gosport for London!"
+
+Eliza stared--did not know, but would ascertain. In five minutes she was
+back.
+
+"At half-past three, my lady; and another at seven."
+
+Lady Thetford glanced at the clock--it was a quarter past two.
+
+"Tell William to have the carriage at the door at a quarter past three;
+and do you pack my dressing case, and the few things I shall need for
+two or three days' absence. I am going to London."
+
+Eliza stood for a moment quite petrified. In all the nine years of her
+service under my lady, no such order as this had ever been received. To
+go to London at a moment's notice--my lady, who rarely went beyond her
+own park gates! Turning away, not quite certain that her ears had not
+deceived her, my lady's voice arrested her.
+
+"Send Mrs. Weymore to me; and do you lose no time in packing up."
+
+Eliza departed. Mrs. Weymore appeared. My lady had some instructions to
+give concerning the children during her absence. Then the governess was
+dismissed, and she was again alone.
+
+Through the wind and rain of the wintry storm, Lady Thetford was driven
+to the station, in time to catch the three-fifty train to the
+metropolis. She went unattended; with no message to any one, only saying
+she would be back in three days at the furthest.
+
+In that dull household, where so few events ever disturbed the stagnant
+quiet, this sudden journey produced an indescribable sensation. What
+could have taken my lady to London at a moment's notice? Some urgent
+reason it must have been to force her out of the gloomy seclusion in
+which she had buried herself since her husband's death. But, discuss it
+as they might, they could come no nearer the heart of the mystery.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+GUY.
+
+
+The rainy December day closed in a rainier night. Another day dawned on
+the world, sunless, and chilly, and overcast still.
+
+It dawned on London in murky, yellow fog, on sloppy, muddy streets--in
+gloom and dreariness, and a raw, easterly wind. In the densely populated
+streets of the district of Lambeth, where poverty huddled in tall, gaunt
+buildings, the dismal light stole murkily and slowly over the crowded,
+filthy streets and swarming purlieus.
+
+In a small upper room of a large dilapidated house, this bad December
+morning, a painter stood at his easel. The room was bare and cold, and
+comfortless in the extreme; the painter was middle-aged, small, brown
+and shriveled, and very much out at elbows. The dull, gray light fell
+full on his work--no inspiration of genius by any means--only the
+portrait, coarsely colored, of a fat, well-to-do butcher's daughter
+round the corner. The man was Joseph Legard, scene-painter to one of the
+minor city theatres, who eked out his slender income by painting
+portraits when he could get them to paint. He was as fond of his art as
+any of the great, old masters; but he had only one attribute in common
+with those immortals--extreme poverty; for his salary was not large, and
+Mr. Legard found it a tight fit, indeed, to "make both ends meet."
+
+So he stood over his work this dull morning, however, in his fireless
+room, with a cheerful, brown face, whistling a tune. In the adjoining
+room he could hear his wife's voice raised shrilly, and the cries of
+half a dozen Legards. He was used to it, and it did not disturb him; and
+he painted and whistled cheerily, touching up the butcher's daughter's
+snub nose and fat cheeks and double chin, until light footsteps came
+running up-stairs, and the door was flung wide by an impetuous hand. A
+boy of ten, or thereabouts, came in--a bright-eyed, fair-haired lad,
+with a handsome, resolute face, and eyes of cloudless, Saxon blue.
+
+"Ah, Guy!" said the scene-painter, turning round and nodding
+good-humoredly. "I've been expecting you! What do you think of Miss
+Jenkins?"
+
+The boy looked at the picture with the glance of an embryo connoisseur.
+
+"It's as like her as two peas, Joe; or would be, if her hair was a
+little redder, and her nose a little thicker, and the freckles were
+plainer. But it looks like her as it is."
+
+"Well, you see, Guy," said the painter, going on with Miss Jenkins's
+left eyebrow, "it don't do to make 'em too true--people don't like it;
+they pay their money, and they expect to take it out in good looks. And
+now, any news this morning, Guy?"
+
+The boy leaned against the window and looked out into the dingy street,
+his bright, young face growing gloomy and overcast.
+
+"No," he said, moodily; "there is no news, except that Phil Darking was
+drunk last night, and savage as a mad dog this morning--and that's no
+news, I'm sure!"
+
+"And nobody's come about the advertisement in the _Times_?"
+
+"No, and never will. It's all humbug what granny says about my belonging
+to anybody rich; if I did, they'd have seen after me long ago. Phil says
+my mother was a house-maid, and my father a valet--and they were only
+too glad to get me off their hands. Vyking was a valet, granny says she
+knows; and it's not likely he'll turn up after all these years. I don't
+care, I'd rather go to the work-house; I'd rather starve in the streets,
+than live another week with Phil Darking."
+
+The blue eyes filled with tears, and he dashed them passionately away.
+The painter looked up with a distressed face.
+
+"Has he been beating you again, Guy?"
+
+"It's no matter--he's a brute! Granny and Ellen are sorry, and do what
+they can; but that's nothing. I wish I had never been born!"
+
+"It is hard," said the painter, compassionately, "but keep up heart,
+Guy; if the worst comes, why you can stop here and take pot-luck with
+the rest--not that that's much better than starvation. You can take to
+my business shortly, now; and you'll make a better scene-painter than
+ever I could. You've got it in you."
+
+"Do you really think so, Joe?" cried the boy, with sparkling eyes. "Do
+you? I'd rather be an artist than a king----Halloo!"
+
+He stopped short in surprise, staring out of the window. Legard looked.
+Up the dirty street came a handsome cab, and stopped at their own door.
+The driver alighted, made some inquiry, then opened the cab-door, and a
+lady stepped lightly out on the curb-stone--a lady, tall and stately,
+dressed in black and closely veiled.
+
+"Now, who can this visitor be for?" said Legard. "People in this
+neighborhood ain't in the habit of having morning calls made on them in
+cabs. She's coming up-stairs!"
+
+He held the door open, listening. The lady ascended the first flight of
+stairs, stopped on the landing, and inquired of some one for "Mrs.
+Martha Brand."
+
+"For granny!" exclaimed the boy. "Joe, I shouldn't wonder if it was some
+one about that advertisement, after all!"
+
+"Neither should I," said Legard. "There! she's gone in. You'll be sent
+for directly, Guy!"
+
+Yes, the lady had gone in. She had encountered on the landing a sickly
+young woman with a baby in her arms, who had stared at the name she
+inquired for.
+
+"Mrs. Martha Brand? Why, that's mother! Walk in this way, if you please,
+ma'am."
+
+She opened the door, and ushered the veiled lady into a small, close
+room, poorly furnished. Over a smouldering fire, mending stockings, sat
+an old woman, who, notwithstanding the extreme shabbiness and poverty of
+her dress, lifted a pleasant, intelligent old face.
+
+"A lady to see you, mother," said the young woman, hushing her fretful
+baby and looking curiously at the veiled face.
+
+But the lady made no attempt to raise the envious screen, not even when
+Mrs. Martha Brand got up, dropping a respectful little servant's
+courtesy and placing a chair. It was a very thick veil--an impenetrable
+shield--and nothing could be discovered of the face behind it but that
+it was fixedly pale. She sank into the seat, her face turned to the old
+woman behind that sable screen.
+
+"You are Mrs. Brand?"
+
+The voice was refined and patrician. It would have told she was a lady,
+even if the rich garments she wore did not.
+
+"Yes, ma'am--your ladyship; Martha Brand."
+
+"And you inserted that advertisement in the _Times_ regarding a child
+left in your care ten years ago?"
+
+Mother and daughter started, and stared at the speaker.
+
+"It was addressed to Mr. Vyking, who left the child in your charge, by
+which I infer you are not aware that he has left England."
+
+"Left England, has he?" said Mrs. Brand. "More shame for him, then,
+never to let me know or leave a farthing to support the boy!"
+
+"I am inclined to believe it was not his fault," said the clear,
+patrician voice. "He left England suddenly and against his will, and, I
+have reason to think, will never return. But there are others
+interested--more interested than he could possibly be--in the child, who
+remain, and who are willing to take him off your hands. But first, why
+is it you are so anxious, after keeping him all these years, to get rid
+of him?"
+
+"Well, you see, your ladyship," replied Martha Brand, "it is not me, nor
+likewise Ellen there, who is my daughter. We'd keep the lad and welcome,
+and share the last crust we had with him, as we often have--for we're
+very poor people; but, you see, Ellen, she's married now, and her
+husband never could bear Guy--that's what we call him, your
+ladyship--Guy, which it was Mr. Vyking's own orders. Phil Darking, her
+husband, never did like him somehow; and when he gets drunk, saving your
+ladyship's presence, he beats him most unmercifully. And now we're going
+to America--to New York, where Phil's got a brother and work is better,
+and he won't fetch Guy. So, your ladyship, I thought I'd try once more
+before we deserted him, and put that advertisement in the _Times_, which
+I'm very glad I did, if it will fetch the poor lad any friends."
+
+There was a moment's pause; then the lady asked, thoughtfully: "And when
+do you leave for New York?"
+
+"The day after to-morrow, ma'am--and a long journey it is for a poor old
+body like me."
+
+"Did you live here when Mr. Vyking left the child with you--in this
+neighborhood?"
+
+"Not in this neighborhood, nor in London at all, your ladyship. It was
+Lowdean, in Berkshire, and my husband was alive at the time. I had just
+lost my baby, and the landlady of the hotel recommended me. So he
+brought it, and paid me thirty sovereigns, and promised me thirty more
+every twelvemonth, and told me to call it Guy Vyking--and that was the
+last I ever saw of him."
+
+"And the infant's mother?" said the lady, her voice changing
+perceptibly--"do you know anything of her?"
+
+"But very little," said Martha Brand, shaking her head. "I never set
+eyes on her, although she was sick at the inn for upward of three weeks.
+But Mrs. Vine, the landlady, she saw her twice; and she told me what a
+pretty young creeter she was--and a lady, if there ever was a lady yet."
+
+"Then the child was born in Berkshire--how was it?"
+
+"Well, your ladyship, it was an accident, seeing as how the carriage
+broke down with Mr. Vyking and the lady, a-driving furious to catch the
+last London train. The lady was so hurted that she had to be carried to
+the inn, and went quite out of her head, raving and dangerous like. Mr.
+Vyking had the landlady to wait upon her until he could telegraph to
+London for a nurse, which one came down next day and took charge of her.
+The baby wasn't two days old when he brought it to me, and the poor
+young mother was dreadful low and out of her head all the time. Mr.
+Vyking and the nurse were all that saw her, and the doctor, of course;
+but she didn't die, as the doctor thought she would, but got well, and
+before she came right to her senses Mr. Vyking paid the doctor and told
+him he needn't come back. And then, a little more than a fortnight
+after, they took her away, all sly and secret-like, and what they told
+her about her poor baby I don't know. I always thought there was
+something dreadful wrong about the whole thing."
+
+"And this Mr. Vyking--was he the child's father--the woman's husband?"
+
+Martha Brand looked sharply at the speaker, as if she suspected _she_
+could answer that question best herself.
+
+"Nobody knew, but everybody thought who. I've always been of opinion
+myself that Guy's father and mother were gentlefolks, and I always shall
+be."
+
+"Does the boy know his own story?"
+
+"Yes, your ladyship--all I've told you."
+
+"Where is he? I should like to see him."
+
+Mrs. Brand's daughter, all this time hushing her baby, started up.
+
+"I'll fetch him. He's up-stairs in Legard's, I know."
+
+She left the room and ran up-stairs. The painter, Legard, still was
+touching up Miss Jenkins, and the bright-haired boy stood watching the
+progress of that work of art.
+
+"Guy! Guy!" she cried breathlessly, "come down-stairs at once. You're
+wanted."
+
+"Who wants me, Ellen?"
+
+"A lady, dressed in the most elegant and expensive mourning--a real
+lady, Guy; and she has come about that advertisement, and she wants to
+see you."
+
+"What is she like, Mrs. Darking?" inquired the painter--"young or old?"
+
+"Young, I should think; but she hides her face behind a thick veil, as
+if she didn't want to be known. Come, Guy."
+
+She hurried the lad down-stairs and into their little room. The veiled
+lady still sat talking to the old woman, her back to the dim daylight,
+and that disguising veil still down. She turned slightly at their
+entrance, and looked at the boy through it. Guy stood in the middle of
+the floor, his fearless blue eyes fixed on the hidden face. Could he
+have seen it he might have started at the grayish pallor which
+overspread it at sight of him.
+
+"So like! So like!" the lady was murmuring between her set teeth. "It is
+terrible--it is marvelous!"
+
+"This is Guy, your ladyship," said Martha Brand. "I've done what I could
+for him for the last ten years, and I'm almost as sorry to part with him
+as if he were my own. Is your ladyship going to take him away with you
+now?"
+
+"No," said her ladyship, sharply; "I have no such intention. Have you no
+neighbor or friend who would be willing to take and bring him up, if
+well paid for the trouble? This time the money shall be paid without
+fail."
+
+"There's Legard's," cried the boy, eagerly. "I'll go to Legard's,
+granny. I'd rather be with Joe than anywhere else."
+
+"It's a neighbor that lives up-stairs," murmured Martha, in explanation.
+"He always took to Guy and Guy to him in a way that's quite wonderful.
+He's a very decent man, your ladyship--a painter for a theatre; and Guy
+takes kindly to the business, and would like to be one himself. If you
+don't want to take away the boy, you couldn't leave him in better
+hands."
+
+"I am glad to hear it. Can I see the man?"
+
+"I'll fetch him!" cried Guy, and ran out of the room. Two minutes later
+came Mr. Legard, paper cap and shirt-sleeves, bowing very low to the
+grand, black-robed lady, and only too delighted to strike a bargain. The
+lady offered liberally; Mr. Legard closed with the offer at once.
+
+"You will clothe him better, and you will educate him and give him your
+name. I wish him to drop that of Vyking. The same amount I give you now
+will be sent you this time every year. If you change your residence in
+the meantime, or wish to communicate with me on any occurrence of
+consequence, you can address Madam Ada, post office, Plymouth."
+
+She rose as she spoke, stately and tall, and motioned Mr. Legard to
+withdraw. The painter gathered up the money she laid on the table, and
+bowed himself, with a radiant face, out of the room.
+
+"As for you," turning to old Martha, and taking out of her purse a roll
+of crisp, Bank of England notes, "I think this will pay you for the
+trouble you have had with the boy during the last ten years. No
+thanks--you have earned the money."
+
+She moved to the door, made a slight, proud gesture with her gloved hand
+in farewell, took a last look at the golden haired, blue eyed, handsome
+boy, and was gone. A moment later and her cab rattled out of the murky
+street, and the trio were alone staring at one another, and at the bulky
+roll of notes.
+
+"I should think it was a dream only for this," murmured old Martha,
+looking at the roll with glistening eyes. "A great lady--a great lady,
+surely! Guy, I shouldn't wonder if that was your mother."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+COLONEL JOCYLN.
+
+
+Five miles away from Thetford Towers, where the multitudinous waves
+leaped and glistened all day in the sun-light, as if a-glitter with
+diamonds, stood Jocyln Hall. An imposing structure of red brick, not yet
+one hundred years old, with sloping meadows spreading away into the blue
+horizon, and densely wooded plantations gliding down to the wide sea.
+
+Colonel Jocyln, the lord of the boundless meadows and miles of woodland,
+where the red deer disported in the green arcades, was absent in India,
+and had been for the past nine years. They were an old family, the
+Jocylns, as old as any in Devon, and with a pride that bore no
+proportion to their purse, until the present Jocyln, had, all at once
+become a millionaire. A penniless young lieutenant in a cavalry
+regiment, quartered somewhere in Ireland, with a handsome face and
+dashing manners, he had captivated, at first sight, a wild, young Irish
+heiress of fabulous wealth and beauty. It was a love-match on her
+side--nobody knew exactly what it was on his; but they made a moonlight
+flitting of it, for the lady's friends were grievously wroth. Lieutenant
+Jocyln liked his profession for its own sake, and took his Irish bride
+to India, and there an heiress and only child was born to him. The
+climate disagreed with the young wife--she sickened and died; but the
+young officer and his baby girl remained in India. In the fullness of
+time he became Colonel Jocyln; and one day electrified his housekeeper
+by a letter announcing his intention of returning to England with his
+little daughter Aileen for good.
+
+That same month of December, which took Lady Thetford on that mysterious
+London journey, brought this letter from Calcutta. Five months after,
+when the May primroses and hyacinths were all abloom in the green
+seaside woodlands, Colonel Jocyln and his little daughter came home.
+
+Early on the day succeeding his arrival, Colonel Jocyln rode through the
+bright spring sunshine, along the pleasant high road between Jocyln Hall
+and Thetford Towers. He had met the late Sir Noel and his bride once or
+twice previous to his departure for India; but there had been no
+acquaintance sufficiently close to warrant this speedy call.
+
+Lady Thetford, sitting alone in her boudoir, looked in surprise at the
+card the servant brought.
+
+"Colonel Jocyln," she said, "I did not even know he had arrived. And to
+call so soon--ah! perhaps he fetches me letters from India."
+
+She rose at the thought, her pale cheeks flushing a little with
+expectation. Mail after mail had arrived from that distant land,
+bringing her no letter from Captain Everard.
+
+Lady Thetford descended at once. She had few callers; but she was always
+exquisitely dressed and ready to receive at a moment's notice. Colonel
+Jocyln--tall and sallow and soldierly--rose at her entrance.
+
+"Lady Thetford? Ah, yes! Most happy to see your ladyship once more.
+Permit me to apologize for this very early call--you will overlook my
+haste when you hear my reason."
+
+Lady Thetford held out her white hand.
+
+"Allow me to welcome you back to England, Colonel Jocyln. You have come
+for good this time, I hope. And little Aileen is well, I trust?"
+
+"Very well, and very glad to be released from shipboard. I need not ask
+for young Sir Rupert--I saw him with his nurse in the park as I rode up.
+A fine boy, and like you, my lady."
+
+"Yes, Rupert is like me. And now--how are our mutual friends in India?"
+
+The momentous question she had been longing to ask from the first; but
+her well-trained voice spoke it as steadily as though it had been a
+question of the weather.
+
+Colonel Jocyln's face clouded, darkened.
+
+"I bring bad news from India, my lady. Captain Everard was a friend of
+yours?"
+
+"Yes; he left his little daughter in my charge."
+
+"I know. You have not heard from him lately?"
+
+"No, and I have been rather anxious. Nothing has befallen the captain, I
+hope?"
+
+The well-trained voice shook a little despite its admirable training,
+and the slender fingers looped and unlooped nervously her watch-chain.
+
+"Yes, Lady Thetford; the very worst that could befall him. George
+Everard is dead."
+
+There was a blank pause. Colonel Jocyln looked grave and downcast and
+sad.
+
+"He was my friend," he said, in a low voice, "my intimate friend for
+many years--a fine fellow and brave as a lion. Many, many nights we have
+lain with the stars of India shining on our bivouac whilst he talked to
+me of you, of England, of his daughter."
+
+Lady Thetford never spoke, never stirred. She was sitting gazing
+steadfastly out of the window at the sparkling sunshine, and Colonel
+Jocyln could not see her face.
+
+"He was as glorious a soldier as ever I knew," the colonel went on; "and
+he died a soldier's death--shot through the heart. They buried him out
+there with military honors, and some of his men cried on his grave like
+children."
+
+There was another blank pause. Still Lady Thetford sat with that fixed
+gaze on the brilliant May sunshine, moveless as stone.
+
+"It is a sad thing for his poor little girl," the Indian officer said;
+"she is fortunate in having such a guardian as you, Lady Thetford."
+
+Lady Thetford awoke from her trance. She had been in a trance, and the
+years had slipped backward, and she had been in her far-off girlhood's
+home, with George Everard, her handsome, impetuous lover, by her side.
+She had loved him then, even when she said no and married another; she
+loved him still, and now he was dead--dead! But she turned to her
+visitor with a face that told nothing.
+
+"I am so sorry--so very, very sorry. My poor little May! Did Captain
+Everard speak of her, of me, before he died?"
+
+"He died instantaneously, my lady. There was no time."
+
+"Ah, no! poor fellow! It is the fortune of war--but it is very sad."
+
+That was all; we may feel inexpressibly, but we can only utter
+commonplaces. Lady Thetford was very, very pale, but her pallor told
+nothing of the dreary pain at her heart.
+
+"Would you like to see little May? I will send for her."
+
+Little May was sent for and came. A brilliant little fairy as ever,
+brightly dressed, with shimmering golden curls and starry eyes. By her
+side stood Sir Rupert--the nine-year-old baronet, growing tall very
+fast, pale and slender still, and looking at the colonel with his
+mother's dark, deep eyes.
+
+Colonel Jocyln held out his hand to the flaxen-haired fairy.
+
+"Come here, little May, and kiss papa's friend. You remember papa, don't
+you?"
+
+"Yes," said May, sitting on his knee contentedly. "Oh, yes! When is papa
+coming home? He said in mamma's letter he would fetch me lots and lots
+of dolls and picture-books. Is he coming home?"
+
+"Not very soon," the colonel said, inexpressibly touched; "but little
+May will go to papa some day. You and mamma, I suppose?" smiling at Lady
+Thetford.
+
+"Yes," nodded May, "that's mamma, and Rupert's mamma. Oh! I am so sorry
+papa isn't coming home soon! Do you know"--looking up in his face with
+big, shining, solemn eyes--"I've got a pony, and I can ride lovely; and
+his name is Snowdrop, because it's all white; and Rupert's is black, and
+_his_ name is Sultan? And I've got a watch; mamma gave it to me last
+Christmas; and my doll's name--the big one, you know, that opens its
+eyes and says 'mamma' and 'papa'--is Sonora. Have you got any little
+girls at home?"
+
+"One, Miss Chatterbox."
+
+"What's her name!"
+
+"Aileen--Aileen Jocyln."
+
+"Is she nice?"
+
+"Very nice, I think."
+
+"Will she come to see me?"
+
+"If you wish it and mamma wishes it."
+
+"Oh, yes! you do, don't you, mamma? How big is your little girl--as big
+as me?"
+
+"Bigger, I fancy. She is nine years old."
+
+"Then she's as big as Rupert--_he's_ nine years old. May she fetch her
+doll to see Sonora?"
+
+"Certainly--a regiment of dolls, if she wishes."
+
+"Can't she come to-morrow?" asked Rupert. "To-morrow's May's birthday;
+May's seven years old to-morrow. Mayn't she come!"
+
+"That must be as mamma says."
+
+"Oh, fetch her!" cried Lady Thetford, "it will be so nice for May and
+Rupert. Only I hope little May won't quarrel with her; she does quarrel
+with her playmates a good deal, I am sorry to say."
+
+"I won't if she's nice," said May; "it's all their fault. Oh, Rupert!
+there's Mrs. Weymore on the lawn, and I want her to come and see the
+rabbits. There's five little rabbits this morning, mamma--mayn't I go
+and show them to Mrs. Weymore?"
+
+Lady Thetford nodded smiling acquiescence; and away ran little May and
+Rupert to show the rabbits to the governess.
+
+Col. Jocyln lingered for half an hour or upward, conversing with his
+hostess, and rose to take his leave at last, with the promise of
+returning on the morrow with his little daughter, and dining at the
+house. As he mounted his horse and rode homeward, "a haunting shape, an
+image gay," followed him through the genial May sunshine--Lady Ada
+Thetford, fair, and stately and graceful.
+
+"Nine years a widow," he mused. "They say she took her husband's death
+very hard--and no wonder, considering how he died; but nine years is a
+tolerable time in which to forget. She took the news of Everard's death
+very quietly. I don't suppose there was ever anything really in that old
+story. How handsome she is, and how graceful!"
+
+He broke off in his musing fit to light a cigar, and see through the
+curling smoke dark-eyed Ada, mamma to little Aileen as well as the other
+two. He had never thought of wanting a wife before, in all these years
+of his widowhood; but the want struck him forcibly now.
+
+"And Aileen wants a mother, and the little baronet a father," he
+thought, complacently; "my lady can't do better."
+
+So next day at the earliest possible hour, came back the gallant
+colonel, and with him a brown-haired, brown-eyed, quiet-looking little
+girl, as tall, every inch, as Sir Rupert. A little embryo patrician,
+with pride in her infantile lineaments already, an uplifted poise of the
+graceful head, a light, elastic step, and a softly-modulated voice. A
+little lady from top to toe, who opened her little brown eyes in wide
+wonder at the antics, and gambols, and obstreperousness, generally, of
+little May.
+
+There were two or three children from the rectory, and half a dozen from
+other families in the neighborhood--and the little birthday feast was
+under the charge of Mrs. Weymore, the governess, pale and pretty, and
+subdued as of old. They raced through the leafy arcades of the park, and
+gamboled in the garden, and had tea in a fairy summer house, to the
+music of plashing fountains--and little May was captain of the band.
+Even shy, still Aileen Jocyln forgot her youthful dignity, and raced and
+laughed with the best.
+
+"It was so nice, papa!" she cried rapturously, riding home in the misty
+moonlight. "I never enjoyed myself so well. I like Rupert so
+much--better than May, you know; May's so rude and laughs so loud. I've
+asked them to come and see me, papa; and May said she would make her
+mamma let them come next week. And then I'm going back--I shall always
+like to go there."
+
+Col. Jocyln smiled as he listened to his little daughter's prattle.
+Perhaps he agreed with her; perhaps he, too, liked to go there. The
+dinner-party, at which he and the rector of St. Gosport, and the
+rector's wife were the only guests, had been quite as pleasant as the
+birthday fete. Very graceful, very fair and stately, had looked the lady
+of the manor, presiding at her own dinner-table. How well she would look
+at the head of his.
+
+The Indian officer, after that, became a very frequent guest at Thetford
+Towers--the children were such a good excuse. Aileen was lonely at home,
+and Rupert and May were always glad to have her. So papa drove her over
+nearly every day, or else came to fetch the other two to Jocyln Hall.
+Lady Thetford was ever most gracious, and the colonel's hopes ran high.
+
+Summer waned. It was October, and Lady Thetford began talking of leaving
+St. Gosport for a season; her health was not good, and change of air was
+recommended.
+
+"I can leave my children in charge of Mrs. Weymore," she said. "I have
+every confidence in her; and she has been with me so long. I think I
+shall depart next week; Dr. Gale says I have delayed too long."
+
+Col. Jocyln looked up uneasily. They were sitting alone together,
+looking at the red October sunset blazing itself out behind the Devon
+hills.
+
+"We shall miss you very much," he said, softly. "I shall miss you."
+
+Something in his tone struck Lady Thetford. She turned her dark eyes
+upon him in surprise and sudden alarm. The look had to be answered;
+rather embarrassed, and not at all so confident as he thought he would
+have been, Col. Jocyln asked Lady Thetford to be his wife.
+
+There was a blank pause. Then,
+
+"I am very sorry, Col. Jocyln, I never thought of this."
+
+He looked at her, pale--alarmed.
+
+"Does that mean no, Lady Thetford?"
+
+"It means no, Col. Jocyln. I have never thought of you save as a friend;
+as a friend I still wish to retain you. I will never marry. What I am
+to-day I will go to my grave. My boy has my whole heart--there is no
+room in it for anyone else. Let us be friends, Col. Jocyln," holding out
+her white jeweled hand, "more, no mortal man can ever be to me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+LADY THETFORD'S BALL.
+
+
+Years came and years went, and thirteen passed away. In all these years
+with their countless changes, Thetford Towers had been a deserted house.
+Comparatively speaking, of course; Mrs. Weymore, the governess, Mrs.
+Hilliard, the housekeeper, Mr. Jarvis, the butler, and their minor
+satellites, served there still, but its mistress and her youthful son
+had been absent. Only little May had remained under Mrs. Weymore's
+charge until within the last two years, and then she, too, had gone to
+Paris to a finishing school.
+
+Lady Thetford came herself to the Towers to fetch her--the only time in
+these thirteen years. She had spent them pleasantly enough, rambling
+about the Continent, and in her villa on the Arno, for her health was
+frail, and growing daily frailer, and demanded a sunny Southern clime.
+The little baronet had gone to Eton, thence to Oxford, passing his
+vacation abroad with his mamma--and St. Gosport had seen nothing of
+them. Lady Thetford had thought it best, for many reasons, to leave
+little May quietly in England during her wanderings. She missed the
+child, but she had every confidence in Mrs. Weymore. The old aversion
+had entirely worn away, but time had taught her she could trust her
+implicitly; and though May might miss "mamma" and Rupert, it was not in
+that flighty fairy's nature to take their absence very deeply to heart.
+
+Jocyln Hall was vacated, too. After that refusal of Lady Thetford, Col.
+Jocyln had left England, placed his daughter in a school abroad, and
+made a tour of the East.
+
+Lady Thetford he had not met until within the last year, when Lady
+Thetford and her son, spending the winter in Rome, had encountered Col.
+and Miss Jocyln, and they had scarcely parted company since. The
+Thetfords were to return early in the spring to take up their abode once
+more in the old home, and Col. Jocyln announced his intention of
+following their example.
+
+Lady Thetford wrote to Mrs. Weymore, her vice-roy, and to her steward,
+issuing her orders for the expected return. Thetford Towers was to be
+completely rejuvenated--new furnished, painted and decorated. Landscape
+gardeners were set at work in the grounds; all things were to be ready
+the following June.
+
+Summer came and brought the absentees--Lady Thetford and her son, Col.
+Jocyln and his daughter; and there were bonfires and illuminations, and
+feasting of tenantry, and ringing of bells, and general jubilation, that
+the heir of Thetford Towers had come to reign at last.
+
+The week following the arrival, Lady Thetford issued invitations over
+half the country for a grand ball. Thetford Towers, after over twenty
+years of gloom and solitude, was coming out again in the old gayety and
+brilliance that had been its normal state before the present heir was
+born.
+
+The night of the ball came, and with nearly every one who had been
+honored with an invitation, all curious to see the future lord of one of
+the noblest domains in broad Devonshire.
+
+Sir Rupert Thetford stood by his mother's side, and met her old friends
+for the first time since his boyhood--a slender young man, pale and
+dark, and handsome of face with dreamy slumbrous eyes of darkness, and
+quiet manners, not at all like his father's fair-haired, bright-eyed,
+stalwart Saxon race; the Thetford blood had run out, he was his own
+mother's son.
+
+Lady Thetford grown pallid and wan, and wasted in all these years, and
+bearing within the seeds of an incurable disease, looked yet fair and
+gracious, and stately in her trailing robes and jewels, to-night,
+receiving her guests like a queen. It was the triumph of her life, the
+desire of her heart, this seeing her son, her idol, reigning in the home
+of his fathers, ruler of the broad domain that had owned the Thetfords
+lord for more years back than she could count.
+
+"If I could but see her his wife," Lady Thetford thought, "I think I
+should have nothing left on earth to desire."
+
+She glanced across the wide room, along a vista of lights, and flitting
+forms, and rich dresses, and sparkling jewels, to where a young lady
+stood, the center of an animated group--a tall and eminently handsome
+girl, with a proud patrician face, and the courtly grace of a young
+empress--Aileen Jocyln, heiress of fabulous wealth, possessor of
+fabulous beauty, and descendant of a race as noble and as ancient as his
+own.
+
+"With her for his wife, come what might in the future, my Rupert would
+be safe," the mother thought; "and who knows what a day may bring forth?
+Ah! if I dared only speak, but I dare not; it would ruin all. I know my
+son."
+
+Yes, Lady Thetford knew her son, understood his character thoroughly,
+and was a great deal too wary a conspirator to let him see her cards.
+Fate, not she, had thrown the heiress and the baronet constantly
+together of late, and Aileen's own beauty and grace was surely
+sufficient for the rest. It was the one desire of Lady Thetford's heart;
+but she never said to her son, who loved her dearly, and would have done
+a great deal to add to her happiness. She left it to fate, and leaving
+it, was doing the wisest thing she could possibly do.
+
+It seemed as if her hopes were likely to be realized. Sir Rupert had an
+artist's and a Sybarite's love for all things beautiful, and could
+appreciate the grand statuesque style of Miss Jocyln's beauty, even as
+his mother could not appreciate it. She was like the Pallas Athine, she
+was his ideal woman, fair and proud, uplifted and serene, smiling on
+all, from the heights of high-and-mightydom, but shining upon them, a
+brilliant far-off star, keeping her warmth and sweetness all for him. He
+was an indolent, dreamy Sybarite, this pale young baronet, who liked his
+rose-leaves unruffled under him, full of artistic tastes and
+inspirations, and a great deal too lazy ever to carry them into effect.
+He was an artist, and he had a studio where he began fifty gigantic
+deeds at once in the way of pictures, and seldom finished one. Nature
+had intended him for an artist, not country squire; he cared little for
+riding, or hunting, or fishing, or farming, or any of the things wherein
+country squires delight; he liked better to lie on the warm grass, with
+the summer wind stirring in the trees over his head, and smoke his
+Turkish pipe, and dream the lazy hours away. If he had been born a poor
+man he might have been a great painter; as it was, he was only an idle,
+listless, elegant, languid dreamer, and so likely to remain until the
+end of the chapter.
+
+Lady Thetford's ball was a very brilliant affair, and a famous success.
+Until far into the gray and dismal dawn, "flute, violin, bassoon," woke
+sweet echoes in the once ghostly rooms, so long where silence had
+reigned. Half the county had been invited, and half the county were
+there; and hosts of pretty, rosy girls, in arcophane and roses, and
+sparkling jewelry, baited their dainty traps, and "wove becks and nods,
+and wreathed smiles," for the special delectation of the handsome
+courtly heir of Thetford Towers.
+
+But the heir of Thetford Towers, with gracious greetings for all, yet
+walked through the rose strewn pitfalls all secure, whilst the starry
+face of Aileen Jocyln shone on him in its pale, high-bred beauty. He had
+not danced much; he had an antipathy to dancing as he had to exertion of
+any kind, and presently he stood leaning against a slender white column,
+watching her in a state of lazy admiration. He could see quite as
+clearly as his mother how eminently proper a marriage with the heiress
+of Col. Jocyln would be; he knew by instinct, too, how much she desired
+it; and it was easy enough, looking at her in her girlish pride and
+beauty, to fancy himself very much in love, and though anything but a
+coxcomb, Sir Rupert Thetford was perfectly aware of his own handsome
+face and dreamy artist's eyes, and his fifteen thousand a year, and
+lengthy pedigree, and had a hazy idea that the handsome Aileen would not
+say no when he spoke.
+
+"And I'll speak to-night, by Jove!" thought the young baronet, as near
+being enthusiastic as was his nature, as he watched her, the brilliant
+center of a brilliant group. "How exquisite she is in her statuesque
+grace, my peerless Aileen, the ideal of my dreams. I'll ask her to be my
+wife to-night, or that inconceivable idiot, Lord Gilbert Penryhn, will
+do it to-morrow."
+
+He sauntered over to the group, not at all insensible to the quick,
+bright smile and flitting flush with which Miss Jocyln welcomed him.
+
+"I believe this waltz is mine, Miss Jocyln. Very sorry to break upon
+your _tete-a-tete_, Penryhn, but necessity knows no law."
+
+A moment and they were floating down the whirling tide of the dance,
+with the wild, melancholy waltz music swelling and sounding, and Miss
+Jocyln's perfumed hair breathing fragrance around him, and the starry
+face and dark, dewy eyes downcast a little, in a happy tremor. The cold,
+still look of fixed pride seemed to melt out of her face, and an
+exquisite rosy light came and went in its place, and made her too lovely
+to tell; and Sir Rupert saw and understood it all, with a little
+complacent thrill of satisfaction.
+
+They floated out of the ball-room into a conservatory of exquisite
+blossom, where tropic plants of gorgeous hues, and plashing fountains,
+under the white light of alabaster lamps, made a sort of garden of Eden.
+There were orange and myrtle trees oppressing the warm air with their
+sweetness, and through the open French windows came the soft, misty
+moonlight and the saline wind. There they stopped, looking out of the
+pale glory of the night, and there Sir Rupert, about to ask the supreme
+question of his life, and with his heart beginning to plunge against his
+side, opened conversation with the usual brilliancy in such cases.
+
+"You look fatigued, Miss Jocyln. These grand balls are great bores,
+after all."
+
+Miss Jocyln laughed frankly. She was of a nature far more impassioned
+than his, and she loved him; and she felt thrilling through every nerve
+in her body the prescience of what he was going to say; for all that,
+being a woman, she had the best of it now.
+
+"I am not at all fatigued," she said; "and I like it. I don't think
+balls are bores--like this, I mean; but then, to be sure, my experience
+is very limited. How lovely the night is! Look at the moonlight, yonder,
+on the sea--a sheet of silvery glory. Does it not recall Sorrento and
+the exquisite Sorrentine landscape--that moonlight on the sea? Are you
+not inspired, sir artist?"
+
+She lifted a flitting, radiant glance, a luminous smile, and the
+star-like face, drooped again--and the white hands took to reckless
+breaking off sweet sprays of myrtle.
+
+"My inspiration is nearer," looking down at the drooping face.
+"Aileen----" and there he stopped, and the sentence was never destined
+to be finished, for a shadow darkened the moonlight, and a figure
+flitted in like a spirit and stood before them--a fairy figure, in a
+cloud of rosy drapery, with shimmering golden curls and dancing eyes of
+turquoise blue.
+
+Aileen Jocyln started back and away from her companion, with a faint,
+thrilling cry. Sir Rupert, wondering and annoyed, stood staring; and
+still the fairy figure in the rosy gauze stood, like a nymph in a stage
+tableau, smiling up in their faces and never speaking. There was a blank
+pause, a moment's; then Miss Jocyln made one step forward, doubt,
+recognition, delight, all in her face at once.
+
+"It is--it is!" she cried, "May Everard!"
+
+"May Everard!" Sir Rupert echoed--"little May!"
+
+"At your service, _monsieur_! To think you should have forgotten me so
+completely in a decade of years. For shame, Sir Rupert Thetford!"
+
+And then she was in Aileen Jocyln's arms, and there was an hiatus filled
+up with kisses.
+
+"Oh! what a surprise!" Miss Jocyln cried breathlessly. "Have you dropped
+from the skies? I thought you were in France."
+
+May Everard laughed, the calm, bright laugh of thirteen years ago, as
+she held up her dimpled cheeks, first one and then the other, to Sir
+Rupert.
+
+"Did you? So I was, but I ran away."
+
+"Ran away! From school?"
+
+"Something very like it. Oh! how stupid it was, and I couldn't endure it
+any longer; and I am so crammed with knowledge now that if I held any
+more I should burst; and so I told them I had to come home; but I was
+sent for, which was true, you know, for I felt an inward call; and as
+they were glad to be rid of me, they didn't make much opposition or ask
+unnecessary questions. And so," folding the fairy hands and nodding her
+little ringleted head, "here I am."
+
+"But, good heavens!" cried Sir Rupert, aghast, "you never mean to say,
+May, you have come alone?"
+
+"All alone," said May, with another nod. "I'm used to it, you know; did
+it last vacation. Came across and spent it with Mrs. Weymore. I don't
+mind it the least; don't know what sea-sickness is; and oh! didn't some
+of the poor wretches suffer this time! Isn't it fortunate I'm here for
+the ball? And, Rupert, good gracious! how you've grown!"
+
+"Thanks. I can't see that you have changed much, Miss Everard. You are
+the same curly-headed, saucy fairy I knew thirteen years ago. What does
+my lady say to this escapade?"
+
+"Nothing. Eloquent silence best expresses her feelings; and then she
+hadn't time to make a scene. Are you going to ask me to dance, Rupert?
+because if you are," said Miss Everard, adjusting her bracelet, "you had
+better do it at once, as I am going back to the ball-room, and after I
+once appear there you will stand no chance amongst the crowd of
+competitors. But then, perhaps you belong to Miss Jocyln?"
+
+"Not at all," Miss Jocyln interposed, hastily, and reddening a little;
+"I am engaged, and it is time I was back, or my unlucky cavalier will be
+at his wit's end to find me."
+
+She swept away with a quicker movement than her wont, and Sir Rupert
+laughingly gave his piquant little partner his arm. His notions of
+propriety were a good deal shocked; but then it was only May Everard,
+and May Everard was one of those exceptionable people who can do pretty
+much as they please, and not surprise any one. They went back to the
+ball-room, the fairy in pink on the arm of the young baronet, chattering
+like a magpie. Miss Jocyln's partner found her and led her off; but Miss
+Jocyln was very silent and _distrait_ all the rest of the night, and
+watched furtively, but incessantly, the fluttering pink fairy. She had
+reigned belle hitherto, but sparkling little May, like an embodied
+sunbeam, electrified the rooms, and took the crown and the sceptre by
+royal right. Sir Rupert had that one dance, and no more--Miss Everard's
+own prophecy was true--the demand for her was such that even the son of
+the house stood not the shadow of a chance.
+
+Miss Jocyln held herself aloof from the young baronet for the remaining
+hours of the ball. She had known as well as he the words that were on
+his lips when May Everard interposed, and her eyes flashed and her dark
+cheek flushed dusky red to see how easily he had been deterred from his
+purpose. For him, he sought her once or twice in a desultory sort of
+way, never noticing that he was purposely avoided, wandering contentedly
+back to devote himself to some one else, and in the pauses to watch May
+Everard floating--a sunbeam in a rosy cloud--here and there and
+everywhere.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+GUY LEGARD.
+
+
+"He meant to have spoken that night; he would have spoken but for May
+Everard. And yet that is two weeks ago, and we have been together since,
+and----"
+
+Aileen Jocyln broke off abruptly, and looked out over the far-spreading,
+gray sea.
+
+The morning was dull, the leaden sky threatening rain, the wind sighing
+fitfully, and the slow, gray sea creeping up the gray sands. Aileen
+Jocyln sat as she had sat since breakfast, aimless and dreary, by her
+dressing-room window, gazing blankly over the pale landscape, her hair
+falling loose and damp over her shoulders, and a novel lying listlessly
+in her lap. The book had no interest; her thoughts would stray, in spite
+of her, to Thetford Towers.
+
+"She is very pretty," Miss Jocyln thought, "with that pink and white
+wax-doll sort of prettiness some people admire. I never thought _he_
+could, with his artistic nature; but I suppose I was mistaken. They call
+her fascinating; I believe that rather hoidenish manner of hers, and all
+those dashing airs, and that 'loud' style of dress and doings, take some
+men by storm. I presume I was mistaken in Sir Rupert, I dare say pretty,
+penniless May will be Lady Thetford before long."
+
+Miss Jocyln's short upper-lip curled rather scornfully, and she rose up
+with a little air of petulance and walked across the room to the
+opposite window. It commanded a view of the lawn and a long wooded
+drive, and, cantering airily up under the waving trees, she saw the
+young lady of whom she had been thinking. The pretty, fleet-footed pony
+and his bright little mistress were by no means rare visitors at Jocyln
+Hall, and Miss Jocyln was always elaborately civil to Miss Everard. Very
+pretty little May looked--all her tinseled curls floating in the breeze,
+like a golden banner; the blue eyes more starily radiant than ever, the
+dark riding-habit and jaunty hat and plume the most becoming things in
+the world. She saw Miss Jocyln at the window, kissed her hand and
+resigned Arab to the groom. A minute more and she was saluting Aileen
+with effusion.
+
+"You solemn Aileen! to sit and mope here in the house, instead of
+improving your health and temper by a breezy canter over the downs.
+Don't contradict; I know you were moping. I should be afraid to tell you
+how many miles Arab and I have got over this morning. And you never came
+to see me yesterday, either. Why was it?"
+
+"I didn't feel inclined," Miss Jocyln answered, truthfully.
+
+"No, you never _do_ feel inclined unless I come and drag you out by
+force; you sit in the house and grow yellow and jaundiced over
+high-church novels. I declare I never met so many lazy people in all my
+life as I have done since I came home. One don't mind mamma, poor thing!
+shutting herself up and the sunshine and fresh air of heaven out; but,
+for you and Rupert! And, speaking of Rupert," ran on Miss Everard in a
+breathless sort of way, "he wanted to commence his great picture of
+'Fair Rosamond and Eleanor' yesterday--and how could he when Eleanor
+never came? Why didn't you--you promised?"
+
+"I changed my mind, I suppose."
+
+"And broke your word--more shame for you, then! Come now."
+
+"No; thanks. It's going to rain."
+
+"Nothing of the sort; and Rupert is _so_ anxious. He would have come
+himself, only my lady is ill to-day with one of her bad headaches, and
+asked him to read her to sleep; and, like the good boy that he is in the
+main, though shockingly lazy, he obeyed. Do come, Aileen; there's a
+dear! Don't be selfish."
+
+Miss Jocyln rose rather abruptly.
+
+"I have no desire to be selfish, Miss Everard. If you will wait ten
+minutes whilst I dress, I will accompany you to Thetford Towers."
+
+She rang the bell and swept from the room, stately and uplifted. May
+looked after her, fidgeting a little.
+
+"Dear me! I suppose she's offended now at that word 'selfish.' I never
+_did_ get on very well with Aileen Jocyln, and I'm afraid I never shall.
+I shouldn't wonder if she were jealous."
+
+Miss Everard laughed a little silvery laugh all to herself, and slapped
+her kid riding-boot with her pretty toy whip.
+
+"I hope I didn't interrupt a tender declaration that night in the
+conservatory, but it looked like it. If I did, I am sure Rupert has had
+fifty chances since, and I know he hasn't availed himself of them, or
+Aileen would never wear that dissatisfied face. I know she's in love
+with _him_, though, to be sure, she would see me impaled with the
+greatest pleasure if she only thought I suspected it; but I'm not so
+certain about him. He's a great deal too indolent in the first place, to
+get up a grand passion for anybody, and I think he's inclined to look
+graciously on me--poor little me--in the second. You may spare yourself
+the trouble, my dear Sir Rupert; for a gentleman whose chief aim in
+existence is to smoke Turkish pipes and lie on the grass and write and
+read poetry is not at all the sort of man I mean to bless for life."
+
+The two girls descended to the court-yard, mounted and rode off. Both
+rode well, and both looked their best on horseback, and made a
+wonderfully pretty picture as they galloped through St. Gosport in
+dashing style, bringing the admiring population in a rush to doors and
+windows. Perhaps Sir Rupert Thetford thought so, too, as he stood at the
+great front entrance to receive them, with a kindling light in his
+artist's eyes.
+
+"May said she would fetch you, and May always keeps her word," he said,
+as he walked slowly up the sweeping staircase; "besides, Aileen, I am to
+have the first sitting for the 'Rosamond and Eleanor' to-day, am I not?
+May calls me an idle dreamer, a useless drone in the busy human hive;
+so, to vindicate my character and cleave a niche in the temple of fame,
+I am going to immortalize myself over this painting."
+
+"You'll never finish it," said May; "it will be like all the rest.
+You'll begin on a gigantic scale and with super-human efforts, and
+you'll cool down and get sick of it before it is half finished, and it
+will go to swell the pile of daubed canvas in your studio now. Don't
+tell me! I know you."
+
+"And have the poorest possible opinion of me, Miss Everard?"
+
+"Yes, I have! I have no patience when I think what you might do, what
+you might become, and see what you are! If you were not Sir Rupert
+Thetford, with a princely income, you might be a great man. As it
+is----"
+
+"As it is!" cried the young baronet, trying to laugh and reddening
+violently, "I will still be a great man--a modern Murillo. Are you not a
+little severe, Miss Everard? Aileen, I believe this is your first visit
+to my studio?"
+
+"Yes," said Miss Jocyln, coldly and briefly. She did not like the
+conversation, and May Everard's familiar home-truths stung her. To her
+he was everything mortal man should be; she was proud, but she was not
+ambitious; what right had this penniless little free-speaker to come
+between them and talk like this?
+
+May was flitting about like the fairy she was, her head a little on one
+side, like a critical canary, her flowing skirt held up, inspecting the
+pictures.
+
+"'Jeanne D'Arc before her Judges,' half finished, as usual, and never to
+be completed; and weak--very, if it ever _was_ completed. 'Battle of
+Bosworth Field,' in flaming colors, all confusion and smoke and red
+ochre and rubbish; you did well not to trouble yourself any more with
+that. 'Swiss Peasant'--ah! that _is_ pretty. 'Storm at Sea,' just
+tolerable. 'Trial of Marie Antoinette.' My dear Rupert, why will you
+persist in these figure paintings when you know your forte is landscape?
+'An Evening in the Eternal City.' Now, that is what I call an exquisite
+little thing! Look at the moon, Aileen, rising over those hill-tops; and
+see those trees--you can almost feel the wind that blows! And that
+prostrate figure--why, that looks like yourself, Rupert!"
+
+"It _is_ myself."
+
+"And the other, stooping--who is he?"
+
+"The painter of that picture, Miss Everard; yes, the only thing in my
+poor studio you see fit to eulogize is not mine. It was done by an
+artist friend--an unknown Englishman, who saved my life in Rome three
+years ago. Come in, mother mine, and defend your son from the two-edged
+sword of May Everard's tongue."
+
+For Lady Thetford, pale and languid, appeared on the threshold, wrapped
+in a shawl.
+
+"It's all for his good, mamma. Come here and look at this 'Evening in
+the Eternal City.' Rupert has nothing like it in all his collection,
+though these are the beginning of many better things. He saved your
+life? How was it?"
+
+"Oh! a little affair with brigands; nothing very thrilling, but I should
+have been killed or captured all the same, if this Legard had not come
+to the rescue. May is right about the picture; he painted well, had come
+to Rome to perfect himself in his art. Very fine fellow, Legard."
+
+"Legard!"
+
+It was Lady Thetford who had spoken sharply and suddenly. She had put up
+her glass to look at the Italian picture, but dropped it, and faced
+abruptly round.
+
+"Yes, Legard. Guy Legard, a young Englishman, about my own age.
+By-the-bye, if you saw him, you would be surprised by his singular
+resemblance to some of those dead and gone Thetfords hanging over there
+in the picture-gallery--fair hair, blue eyes, and the same peculiar cast
+of features to a shade. I was rather taken aback, I confess, when I saw
+it first. My dear mother----"
+
+It was not a cry Lady Thetford had uttered--it was a kind of wordless
+sob. He soon caught her in his arms and held her there, her face the
+color of death.
+
+"Get a glass of water, May--she is subject to these attacks. Quick!"
+
+Lady Thetford drank the water, and sunk back in the chair Aileen wheeled
+up, her face looking awfully corpse-like in contrast to her dark
+garments and dead black hair.
+
+"You should not have left your room," said Sir Rupert, "after your
+attack this morning. Perhaps you had better return and lie down. You
+look perfectly ghastly."
+
+"No," his mother sat up as she spoke and pushed away the glass, "there
+is no necessity for lying down. Don't wear that scared face, May--it was
+nothing, I assure you. Go on with what you were saying, Rupert."
+
+"What I was saying? What was it?"
+
+"About this young artist's resemblance to the Thetfords."
+
+"Oh! well, there's no more to say; that is all. He saved my life and he
+painted that picture, and we were Damon and Pythias over again during my
+stay in Rome. I always _do_ fraternize with those sort of fellows, you
+know; and I left him in Rome, and he promised, if he ever returned to
+England--which he wasn't so sure of--he would run down to Devonshire to
+see me and my painted ancestors, whom he resembles so strongly. That is
+all; and now, young ladies, if you will take your places we will
+commence on the Rosamond and Eleanor. Mother, sit here by this window if
+you want to play propriety, and don't talk."
+
+But Lady Thetford chose to go to her own room, and her son gave her his
+arm thither and left her lying back amongst her cushions in front of the
+fire. It was always chilly in those great and somewhat gloomy rooms, and
+her ladyship was always cold of late. She lay there looking with gloomy
+eyes into the ruddy blaze, and holding her hands over her painfully
+beating heart.
+
+"It is destiny, I suppose," she thought, bitterly; "let me banish him to
+the farthest end of the earth; let me keep him in poverty and obscurity
+all his life, and when the day comes that it is written, Guy Legard will
+be here. Sooner or later the vow I have broken to Sir Noel Thetford must
+be kept; sooner or later Sir Noel's heir will have his own."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+ASKING IN MARRIAGE.
+
+
+A fire burned in Lady Thetford's room, and among piles of silken pillows
+my lady, languid and pale, lay, looking into the leaping flame. It was a
+hot July morning, the sun blazed like a wheel of fire in a sky without a
+cloud, but Lady Thetford was always chilly of late. She drew the crimson
+shawl she wore closer around her, and glanced impatiently now and then
+at the pretty toy clock on the decorated chimney-piece. The house was
+very still; its one disturbing element, Miss Everard, was absent with
+Sir Rupert for a morning canter over the sunny Devon hills.
+
+"How long they stay, and these solitary rides are so dangerous! Oh! what
+will become of me if it is too late, after all! What shall I do if he
+says no?"
+
+There was a quick man's step without--a moment and the door opened, and
+Sir Rupert, "booted and spurred" from his ride, was bending over his
+mother.
+
+"Louise says you sent for me after I left. What is it, mother--you are
+not worse?"
+
+He knelt beside her. Lady Thetford put back the fair brown hair with
+tender touch, and gazed in the handsome face so like her own, with eyes
+full of unspeakable love.
+
+"My boy! my boy!" she murmured, "my darling Rupert! Oh! it _is_ hard, it
+_is_ bitter to have to leave you!"
+
+"Mother!" with a quick look of alarm, "what is it? Are you worse?"
+
+"No worse, Rupert; but no better. My boy, I shall never be better again
+in this world."
+
+"Mother----"
+
+"Hush, my Rupert--wait; you know it is true; and but for leaving you I
+should be glad to go. My life has not been so happy since your father
+died, that I should greatly cling to it."
+
+"But, mother, this won't do; these morbid fancies are worst of all.
+Keeping up one's spirits is half the battle."
+
+"I am not morbid; I merely state a fact--a fact which must preface what
+is to come. Rupert, I know I am dying, and before we part I want to see
+my successor at Thetford Towers."
+
+"My dear mother!" amazedly.
+
+"Rupert, I want to see Aileen Jocyln your wife. No, no; don't interrupt
+me, but believe me, I dislike match-making quite as cordially as you do;
+but my days on earth are numbered, and I must speak before it is too
+late. When we were abroad I thought there never would be occasion; when
+we returned home I thought so, too. Rupert, I have ceased to think so
+since May Everhard's return."
+
+The young man's face flushed suddenly and hotly, but he made no reply.
+
+"How any man in his senses could possibly prefer May to Aileen, is a
+mystery I cannot solve; but then these things puzzle the wisest of us at
+times. Mind, my boy, I don't really say you _do_ prefer May--I should be
+very unhappy if I thought so. I know--I am certain you love Aileen best;
+and I am equally certain she is a thousand times better suited to you.
+Then, as a man of honor, you owe it to her. You have paid Miss Jocyln
+such attentions as no honorable gentleman should pay any lady, save the
+one he means to make his wife."
+
+Lady Thetford's son rose abruptly, and stood leaning against the mantle,
+looking into the fire.
+
+"Rupert, tell me truly, if May Everard had not come here, would you not
+ere this have asked Aileen to be your wife?"
+
+"Yes--no--I don't know! Mother!" the young man cried, impatiently, "what
+has May Everard done that you should treat her like this?"
+
+"Nothing; and I love her dearly, and you know it. But she is not suited
+to you--she is not the woman you should marry."
+
+Sir Rupert laughed--a hard strident laugh.
+
+"I think Miss Everard is much of your opinion, my lady. You might have
+spared yourself all these fears and perplexities, for the simple reason
+that I should have been refused had I asked."
+
+"Rupert?"
+
+"Nay, mother mine, no need to wear that frightened face. I haven't asked
+Miss Everard in so many words to marry me, and she hasn't declined with
+thanks; but she would if I did. I saw enough to-day of that."
+
+"Then you don't care for Aileen?" with a look of blank consternation.
+
+"I care for her very much, mother; and I haven't owned to being
+absolutely in love with our pretty little May. Perhaps I care for one as
+much as the other; perhaps I know in my inmost heart she is the one I
+should marry. That is, if she will marry me."
+
+"You owe it to her to ask her."
+
+"Do I? Very likely; and it would make you happy, my mother?"
+
+He came and bent over her again, smiling down in her wan, anxious face.
+
+"More happy than anything else in this world, Rupert!"
+
+"Then consider it an accomplished fact. Before the sun sets to-day
+Aileen Jocyln shall say yes or no to your son."
+
+He bent and kissed her; then, without waiting for her to speak, wheeled
+round and strode out of the apartment.
+
+"There is nothing like striking whilst the iron is hot," said the young
+man to himself, with a grim sort of smile, as he ran down-stairs.
+
+Loitering on the lawn, he encountered May Everard, still in her
+riding-habit, surrounded by three or four poodle-dogs.
+
+"On the wing again, Rupert? Is it for mamma? She is not worse?"
+
+"No; I am going to Jocyln Hall. Perhaps I shall fetch Aileen back."
+
+May's turquoise blue eyes were lifted with a sudden luminous,
+intelligent flash to his face.
+
+"God speed you! You will certainly fetch Aileen back!"
+
+She held out her hand with a smile that told him she knew all as plainly
+as he knew it himself.
+
+"You have my best wishes, Rupert, and don't linger; I want to
+congratulate Aileen."
+
+Sir Rupert's response to these good wishes was very brief and curt. Miss
+Everard watched him mount and ride off, with a mischievous little smile
+rippling round her rosy lips.
+
+"My lady has been giving the idol of her existence a caudle
+lecture--subject, matrimony," mused Miss Everard, sauntering lazily
+along in the midst of her little dogs: "and really it is high time, if
+she means to have Aileen for a daughter-in-law, for the heir of Thetford
+Towers is rather doubtful that he is not falling in love with me; and
+Aileen is dreadfully jealous and disagreeable; and my lady is anxious
+and fidgeted to death about it; and--oh-h-h! good gracious!"
+
+Miss Everard stopped with a shrill, feminine shriek. She had loitered
+down to the gates, where a young man stood talking to the lodge-keeper,
+with a big Newfoundland dog gamboling ponderously about him. The big
+Newfoundland made an instant dash into Miss Everard's guard of honor,
+with one deep, bass bark, like distant thunder, and which effectually
+drowned the yelps of the poodles. May flew to the rescue, seizing the
+Newfoundland's collar and pulling him back with all the might of two
+little white hands.
+
+"You big, horrid brute!" cried May, with flashing eyes, "how dare you!
+Call off your dog, sir, this instant! Don't you see how he is
+frightening mine!"
+
+She turned imperiously to the Newfoundland's master, the bright eyes
+flashing, the pink cheeks aflame--very pretty, indeed, in her wrath.
+
+"Down, Hector!" called the young man, authoritatively; and Hector, like
+the well-trained animal he was, subsided instantly. "I beg your pardon,
+young lady! Hector, you stir at your peril, sir! I am very sorry he has
+alarmed you."
+
+He doffed his cap with careless grace, and made the angry little lady a
+courtly bow.
+
+"He didn't alarm me," replied May, testily; "he only alarmed my dogs.
+Why, dear me! how very odd!"
+
+Miss Everard, looking full at the young man, had started back with this
+exclamation and stared broadly. A tall, powerful-looking young fellow,
+rather dusty and travel-stained, but eminently gentlemanly, with frank
+blue eyes and profuse fair hair, and a handsome, candid face.
+
+"Yes, Miss May," struck in the lodge-keeper, "it is odd! I see it, too!
+He looks enough like Sir Noel, dead and gone, to be his own son!"
+
+"I beg your pardon," said May, becoming conscious of her wide stare,
+"but is your name Legard, and are you a friend of Sir Rupert Thetford?"
+
+"Yes, to both questions," with a smile that May liked. "You see the
+resemblance too, then. Sir Rupert used to speak of it. Is he at home?"
+
+"Not just now; but he will be very soon, and I know will be glad to see
+Mr. Legard. You had better come in and wait."
+
+"And Hector," said Mr. Legard. "I think I had better leave him behind,
+as I see him eying your guard of honor with anything but a friendly eye.
+I believe I have the pleasure of addressing Miss Everard? Oh!" laughing
+frankly at her surprised face, "Sir Rupert showed me a photograph of
+yours as a child. I have a good memory for faces, and knew you at once."
+
+Miss Everard and Mr. Legard fell easily into conversation at once, as if
+they had been old friends. Lady Thetford's ward was one of those people
+who form their likes and dislikes at first sight, and Mr. Legard's face
+would have been a pretty sure letter of recommendation to him the wide
+world over. May liked his looks; and then he was Sir Rupert's friend,
+and she was never over particular about social forms and customs; and so
+they dawdled about the grounds and through the leafy arcades, in the
+genial sunshine, talking about Sir Rupert and Rome, and art and artists,
+and the thousand and one things that turn up in conversation; and the
+moments slipped by, half hour followed half hour, until May jerked out
+her watch at last, in a sudden fit of recollection, and found, to her
+consternation, it was past two.
+
+"What will mamma say!" cried the young lady, aghast. "And Rupert; I dare
+say he's home to luncheon before this. Let us go back to the house, Mr.
+Legard. I had no idea it was half so late."
+
+Mr. Legard laughed frankly.
+
+"The honesty of that speech is the highest flattery my conversational
+powers ever received, Miss Everard. I am very much obliged to you. Ah!
+by Jove! Sir Rupert himself!"
+
+For riding slowly up under the sunlit trees came the young baronet. As
+Mr. Legard spoke, his glance fell upon them, the young lady and
+gentleman advancing so confidentially with half a dozen curly poodles
+frisking about them. To say Sir Rupert stared would be a mild way of
+putting it--his eyes opened in wide wonder.
+
+"Guy Legard!"
+
+"Thetford! My dear Sir Rupert!"
+
+The baronet leaped off his horse, his eyes lighting, and shook hands
+with the artist, in a burst of heartiness very rare with him.
+
+"Where in the world did you drop from, and how under the sun did you
+come to be _like this_ with May?"
+
+"I leave the explanation to Mr. Legard," said May, blushing a little
+under Sir Rupert's glance, "whilst I go and see mamma, only premising
+that luncheon hour is past, and you had better not linger."
+
+She tripped away, and the two young men followed more slowly into the
+house. Sir Rupert led his friend to his studio, and left him to inspect
+the pictures.
+
+"Whilst I speak a word to my mother," he said; "it will detain me hardly
+an instant."
+
+"All right!" said Mr. Legard, boyishly. "Don't hurry yourself on my
+account, you know."
+
+Lady Thetford lay where her son had left her--lay as if she had hardly
+stirred since. She looked up and half rose as he came in, her eyes
+painfully, intensely anxious. But his face, grave and quiet, told
+nothing.
+
+"Well," she panted, her eyes glittering.
+
+"It is well, mother. Aileen Jocyln has promised to become my wife."
+
+"Thank God!"
+
+Lady Thetford sunk back, her hands clasped tightly over her heart, its
+loud beating plainly audible. Her son looked down at her, his face
+keeping its steady gravity--none of the rapture of an accepted lover
+there.
+
+"You are content, mother?"
+
+"More than content, Rupert. And you?"
+
+He smiled and, stooping, kissed the warm, pallid face. "I would do a
+great deal to make you happy, mother; but I would _not_ ask a woman I
+did not love to be my wife. Be at rest; all is well with me. And now I
+must leave you, if you will not go down to luncheon."
+
+"I think not; I am not strong to-day. Is May waiting?"
+
+"More than May. A friend of mine has arrived, and will stay with us for
+a few weeks."
+
+Lady Thetford's face had been flushed and eager, but at the last words
+it suddenly blanched.
+
+"A friend, Rupert! Who?"
+
+"You have heard me speak of him before," he said carelessly; "his name
+is Guy Legard."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+ON THE WEDDING EVE.
+
+
+The family at Thetford Towers were a good deal surprised, a few hours
+later that day, by the unexpected appearance of Lady Thetford at dinner.
+Wan as some spirit of the moonlight, she came softly in, just as they
+entered the dining-room, and her son presented his friend, Mr. Legard,
+at once.
+
+"His resemblance to the family will be the surest passport to your
+favor, mother mine," Sir Rupert said, gayly. "Mrs. Weymore met him just
+now, and recoiled with a shriek, as though she had seen a ghost.
+Extraordinary, isn't it--this chance resemblance?"
+
+"Extraordinary," Lady Thetford said, "but not at all unusual. Of course,
+Mr. Legard is not even remotely connected with the Thetford family?"
+
+She asked the question without looking at him. She kept her eyes fixed
+on her plate, for that frank, fair face before her was terrible to her,
+almost as a ghost. It was the days of her youth over again, and Sir
+Noel, her husband, once more by her side.
+
+"Not that I am aware of," Mr. Legard said, running his fingers through
+his abundant brown hair. "But I may be for all that. I am like the hero
+of a novel--a mysterious orphan--only, unfortunately, with no
+identifying strawberry mark on my arm. Who my parents were, or what my
+real name is, I know no more than I do of the biography of the man in
+the moon."
+
+There was a murmur of astonishment--May and Rupert vividly interested,
+Lady Thetford white as a dead woman her eyes averted, her hand trembling
+as if palsied.
+
+"No," said Mr. Legard, gravely, and a little sadly, "I stand as totally
+alone in this world as a human being can stand--father, mother, brother,
+sister, I never have known; a nameless, penniless waif, I was cast upon
+the world four-and-twenty years ago. Until the age of twelve I was
+called Guy Vyking; then the friends with whom I had lived left England
+for America, and a man--a painter, named Legard--took me and gave me his
+name. And there the romance comes in: a lady, a tall, elegant lady, too
+closely veiled for us to see her face, came to the poor home that was
+mine, paid those who had kept me from my infancy, and paid Legard for
+his future care of me. I have never seen her since; and I sometimes
+think," his voice failing, "that she may have been my mother."
+
+There was a sudden clash, and a momentary confusion. My lady, lifting
+her glass with that shaking hand, had let it fall, and it was shivered
+to atoms on the floor.
+
+"And you never saw the lady afterward?" May asked.
+
+"Never. Legard received regular remittances, mailed, oddly enough, from
+your town here--Plymouth. The lady told him, if he ever had occasion to
+address her--which he never did have, that I know of--to address Madam
+Ada, Plymouth! He brought me up, educated me, taught me his art and
+died. I was old enough then to comprehend my position, and the first use
+I made of that knowledge was to return 'Madam Ada' her remittances, with
+a few sharp lines that effectually put an end to hers."
+
+"Have you never tried to ferret out the mystery of your birth and this
+Madam Ada?" inquired Sir Rupert.
+
+Mr. Legard shook his head.
+
+"No; why should I? I dare say I should have no reason to be proud of my
+parents if I did find them, and they evidently were not very proud of
+me. 'Where ignorance is bliss,' etc. If destiny has decreed it, I shall
+know, sooner or later; if destiny has not, then my puny efforts will be
+of no avail. But if presentiments mean anything, I shall one day know;
+and I have no doubt, if I searched Devonshire, I should find Madam Ada."
+
+May Everard started up with a cry, for Lady Thetford had fallen back in
+one of those sudden spasms to which she had lately become subject. In
+the universal consternation Guy Legard and his story were forgotten.
+
+"I hope what _I_ said had nothing to do with this," he cried, aghast;
+and the one following so suddenly upon the other made the remark natural
+enough. But Sir Rupert turned upon him in haughty surprise.
+
+"What _you_ said! Lady Thetford, unfortunately, has been subject to
+these attacks for the past two years, Mr. Legard. That will do, May; let
+me assist my mother to her room."
+
+May drew back. Lady Thetford was able to rise, ghastly and trembling,
+and, supported by her son's arm, walked from the room.
+
+"Lady Thetford's health is very delicate, I fear," Mr. Legard murmured,
+sympathetically. "I really thought for a moment my story-telling had
+occasioned her sudden illness."
+
+Miss Everard fixed a pair of big, shining eyes in solemn scrutiny on his
+face--that face so like the pictured one of Sir Noel Thetford.
+
+"A very natural supposition," thought the young lady; "so did _I_."
+
+"You never knew Sir Noel?" Guy Legard said, musingly; "but, of course,
+you did not. Sir Rupert has told me he died before he was born."
+
+"I never saw him," said May; "but those who have seen him in this
+house--our housekeeper, for instance--stand perfectly petrified at your
+extraordinary likeness to him. Mrs. Hilliard says you have given her a
+'turn' she never expects to get over."
+
+Mr. Legard smiled, but was grave again directly.
+
+"It is odd--odd--very odd!"
+
+"Yes," said May Everard, with a sagacious nod; "a great deal, too, to be
+a chance resemblance. Hush! here comes Rupert. Well, how have you left
+mamma?"
+
+"Better; Louise is with her. And now to finish dinner; I have an
+engagement for the evening."
+
+Sir Rupert was strangely silent and _distrait_ all through dinner, a
+darkly thoughtful shadow glooming his ever pale face. A supposition had
+flashed across his mind that turned him hot and cold by turns--a
+supposition that was almost a certainty. This striking resemblance of
+the painter Legard to his dead father was no freak of nature, but a
+retributive Providence revealing the truth of his birth. It came back to
+his memory with painfully acute clearness that his mother had sunk down
+once before in a violent tremor and faintness at the mere sound of his
+name. Legard had spoken of a veiled lady--Madam Ada, Plymouth, her
+address. Could his mother--his--be that mysterious arbiter of his fate?
+The name--the place. Sir Rupert Thetford wrenched his thoughts, by a
+violent effort, away, shocked at himself.
+
+"It cannot be--it cannot!" he said to himself passionately. "I am mad to
+harbor such thoughts. It is a desecration of the memory of the dead, a
+treason to the living. But I wish Guy Legard had never come here."
+
+There was one other person at Thetford Towers strangely and strongly
+affected by Mr. Guy Legard, and that person, oddly enough, was Mrs.
+Weymore, the governess. Mrs. Weymore had never even seen the late Sir
+Noel that any one knew of, and yet she had recoiled with a shrill,
+feminine cry of utter consternation at sight of the young man.
+
+"I don't see why you should get the fidgets about it, Mrs. Weymore,"
+Miss Everard remarked, with her great, bright eyes suspiciously keen;
+"you never knew Sir Noel."
+
+Mrs. Weymore sunk down on a lounge in a violent tremor and faintness.
+
+"My dear, I beg your pardon. I--it seems strange, Oh, May!" with a
+sudden, sharp cry, losing self-control, "who _is_ that young man?"
+
+"Why, Mr. Guy Legard, artist," answered May, composedly, the bright eyes
+still on the alert; "formerly--in 'boyhood's sunny hours,' you
+know--Master Guy. Let--me--see! Yes, Vyking."
+
+"Vyking!" with a spasmodic cry; and then Mrs. Weymore dropped her white
+face in her hands, trembling from head to foot.
+
+"Well, upon my word," Miss Everard said, addressing empty space, "this
+does cap the globe! The Mysteries of Udolpho were plain reading compared
+to Mr. Guy Vyking and the effect he produces upon the people. He's a
+very handsome young man, and a very agreeable young man; but I should
+never have suspected he possessed the power of throwing all the elderly
+ladies he meets into gasping fits. There's Lady Thetford: he was too
+much for her, and she had to be helped out of the dining-room; and
+here's Mrs. Weymore going into hysterics because he used to be called
+Guy Vyking. I thought my lady might be the veiled lady of his story; but
+now I think it must have been you."
+
+Mrs. Weymore looked up, her very lips white.
+
+"The veiled lady? What lady? May, tell me all you know of Mr. Vyking."
+
+"Not Vyking now--Legard," answered May; and there-upon the young lady
+detailed the scanty _resume_ the artist had given them of his history.
+
+"And I'm very sure it isn't chance at all," concluded May Everard,
+transfixing the governess with an unwinking stare; "and Mr. Legard is as
+much a Thetford as Sir Rupert himself. I don't pretend to divination, of
+course, and I don't clearly see how it is; but it is, and you know it,
+Mrs. Weymore; and you could enlighten the young man, and so could my
+lady, if either of you chose."
+
+Mrs. Weymore turned suddenly and caught May's two hands in hers.
+
+"May, if you care for me, if you have any pity, don't speak of this. I
+_do_ know--but I must have time. My head is in a whirl. Wait, wait, and
+don't tell Mr. Legard."
+
+"I won't," said May; "but it is all very strange and very mysterious,
+delightfully like a three-volume novel or a sensation play. I'm getting
+very much interested in the hero of the performance, and I'm afraid I
+shall be deplorably in love with him shortly if this sort of thing keeps
+on."
+
+Mr. Legard himself took the matter much more coolly than any one else;
+smoked cigars philosophically, criticised Sir Rupert's pictures, did a
+little that way himself, played billiards with his host and chess with
+Miss Everard, rode with that young lady, walked with her, sang duets
+with her in a deep melodious bass, made himself fascinating, and took
+the world easy.
+
+"It is no use getting into a gale about these things," he said to Miss
+Everard when she wondered aloud at his constitutional phlegm; "the
+crooked things will straighten of themselves if we give them time. What
+is written is written. I know I shall find out all about myself one
+day--like little Paul Dombey, 'I feel it in my bones.'"
+
+Mr. Legard was thrown a good deal upon Miss Everard's resources for
+amusement; for, of course, Sir Rupert's time was chiefly spent at Jocyln
+Hall, and Mr. Legard bore this with even greater serenity than the
+other. Miss Everard was a very charming little girl, with a laugh that
+was sweeter than the music of the spheres and hundreds of bewitching
+little ways; and Mr. Legard undertook to paint her portrait, and found
+it the most absorbing work of art he had ever undertaken. As for the
+young baronet spending his time at Jocyln Hall, they never missed him.
+His wooing sped on smoothest wings--Col. Jocyln almost as much pleased
+as my lady herself; and the course of true love in this case ran as
+smooth as heart could wish.
+
+Miss Jocyln, as a matter of course, was a great deal at Thetford Towers,
+and saw with evident gratification the growing intimacy of Mr. Legard
+and May. It would be an eminently suitable match, Miss Jocyln thought,
+only it was a pity so much mystery shrouded the gentleman's birth.
+Still, he was a gentleman, and, with his talents, no doubt would become
+an eminent artist; and it would be highly satisfactory to see May fix
+her erratic affections on somebody, and thus be doubly out of her--Miss
+Jocyln's--way.
+
+The wedding preparations were going briskly forward. There was no need
+of delay; all were anxious for the marriage--Lady Thetford more than
+anxious, on account of her declining health. The hurry to have the
+ceremony irrevocably over had grown to be something very like a
+monomania with her.
+
+"I feel that my days are numbered," she said, with impatience, to her
+son, "and I cannot rest in my grave, Rupert, until I see Aileen your
+wife."
+
+So Sir Rupert, more than anxious to please his mother, hastened on the
+wedding. An eminent physician, summoned down from London, confirmed my
+lady's own fears.
+
+"Her life hung by a thread," this gentleman said, confidentially to Sir
+Rupert, "the slightest excitement may snap it at any moment. Don't
+contradict her--let everything be as she wishes. Nothing can save her,
+but perfect quiet and repose may prolong her existence."
+
+The last week of September the wedding was to take place; and all was
+bustle and haste at Jocyln Hall. Mr. Legard was to stay for the wedding,
+at the express desire of Lady Thetford herself. She had seen him but
+very rarely since that first day, illness had compelled her to keep her
+room; but her interest in him was unabated, and she had sent for him to
+her apartment, and invited him to remain. And Mr. Legard, a good deal
+surprised, and a little flattered, consented at once.
+
+"Very kind of Lady Thetford, you know, Miss Everard," Mr. Legard said,
+sauntering into the room where she sat with her ex-governess--Mr. Legard
+and Miss Everard were growing highly confidential of late--"to take such
+an interest in an utter stranger as she does in me."
+
+May stole a glance from under her eyelashes at Mrs. Weymore; that lady
+sat nervous and scared-looking, and altogether uncomfortable, as she had
+a habit of doing in the young artist's presence.
+
+"Very," Miss Everard said, dryly. "You ought to feel highly
+complimented, Mr. Legard, for it's a sort of kindness her ladyship is
+extremely chary of to utter strangers. Rather odd, isn't it, Mrs.
+Weymore?"
+
+Mrs. Weymore's reply was a distressed, beseeching look. Mr. Legard saw
+it, and opened very wide his handsome, Saxon eyes.
+
+"Eh?" he said, "it doesn't mean anything, does it? Mrs. Weymore looks
+mysterious, and I'm so stupid about these things. Lady Thetford doesn't
+know anything about me, does she?"
+
+"Not that _I_ know of," May said, with significant emphasis on the
+personal pronoun.
+
+"Then Mrs. Weymore does! By Jove! I always thought Mrs. Weymore had an
+odd way of looking at me! And now, what is it?"
+
+He turned his fair, resolute face to that lady with a smile hard to
+resist.
+
+"I don't make much of a howling about my affairs, you know, Mrs.
+Weymore," he said; "but for all that, I am none the less interested in
+myself and my history. If you can open the mysteries a little you will
+be conferring a favor on me I can never repay. And I am positive from
+your look you can."
+
+Mrs. Weymore turned away, and covered her face with a sort of sob. The
+young lady and gentleman exchanged startled glances.
+
+"You can then?" Mr. Legard said, gravely, but growing very pale. "You
+know who I am?"
+
+To his boundless consternation Mrs. Weymore rose up and fell at his
+feet, seizing his hands and covering them with kisses.
+
+"I do! I do! I know who you are, and so shall you before this wedding
+takes place. But before I tell you I must speak to Lady Thetford."
+
+Mr. Legard raised her up, his face as colorless as her own.
+
+"To Lady Thetford! What has Lady Thetford to do with me?"
+
+"Everything! She knows who you are as well as I do. I must speak to her
+first."
+
+"Answer me one thing--is my name Vyking?"
+
+"No. Pray, pray don't ask me any more questions. As soon as her ladyship
+is a little stronger, I will go to her and obtain her permission to
+speak. Keep what I have said a secret from Sir Rupert, and wait until
+then."
+
+She rose up to go, so haggard and deploring-looking, that neither strove
+to detain her. The young man stared blankly after her as she left the
+room.
+
+"At last!" he said, drawing a deep breath, "at last I shall know!"
+
+There was a pause; then May spoke in a fluttering little voice.
+
+"How very strange that Mrs. Weymore should know, of all persons in the
+world."
+
+"Who is Mrs. Weymore? How long has she been here? Tell me all you know
+of her, Miss Everard."
+
+"And that 'all' will be almost nothing. She came down from London as a
+nursery-governess to Rupert and me, a week or two after my arrival here,
+selected by the rector of St. Gosport. She was then what you see her
+now, a pale, subdued creature in widow's weeds, with the look of one who
+had seen trouble. I have known her so long, and always as such a white,
+still shadow, I suppose that is why it seems so odd."
+
+Mrs. Weymore kept altogether out of Mr. Legard's way for the next week
+or two. She avoided May also, as much as possible, and shrunk so
+palpably from any allusion to the past scene, that May good naturedly
+bided her time in silence, though almost as impatient as Mr. Legard
+himself.
+
+And whilst they waited the bridal eve came round, and Lady Thetford was
+much better, not able to quit her room, but strong enough to lie on a
+sofa and talk to her son and Col. Jocyln, with a flush on her cheek and
+sparkle in her eye--all unusual there.
+
+The marriage was to take place in the village church; and there was to
+follow a grand ceremonial of a wedding-breakfast; and then the happy
+pair were to start at once on their bridal-tour.
+
+"And I hope to see my boy return," Lady Thetford said, kissing him
+fondly. "I can hardly ask for more than that."
+
+Late in the afternoon of that eventful wedding-eve, the ex-governess
+sought out Guy Legard, for the first time of her own accord. She found
+him in the young baronet's studio, with May, putting the finishing
+touches to that young lady's portrait. He started up at sight of his
+visitor, vividly interested. Mrs. Weymore was paler even than usual, but
+with a look of deep, quiet determination on her face no one had ever
+seen there before.
+
+"You have come to keep your promise," the young man cried--"to tell me
+who I am?"
+
+"I have come to keep my promise," Mrs. Weymore answered; "but I must
+speak to my lady first. I wanted to tell you that, before you sleep
+to-night, you shall know."
+
+She left the studio, and the two sat there, breathless, expectant. Sir
+Rupert was dining at Jocyln Hall, Lady Thetford was alone in high
+spirits, and Mrs. Weymore was admitted at once.
+
+"I wonder how long you must wait?" said May Everard.
+
+"Heaven knows! Not long, I hope, or I shall go mad with impatience."
+
+An hour passed--two--three, and still Mrs. Weymore was closeted with my
+lady, and still the pair in the studio waited.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+MRS. WEYMORE'S STORY.
+
+
+Lady Thetford sat up among her pillows and looked at her hired dependent
+with wide open eyes of astonishment. The pale, timid face of Mrs.
+Weymore wore a look altogether new.
+
+"Listen to your story! My dear Mrs. Weymore, what possible interest can
+your story have for me?"
+
+"More than you think, my lady. You are so much stronger to-day than
+usual, and Sir Rupert's marriage is so very near that I must speak now
+or never."
+
+"Sir Rupert!" my lady gasped. "What has your story to do with Sir
+Rupert?"
+
+"You will hear," Mrs. Weymore said, very sadly. "Heaven knows I should
+have told you long ago; but it is a story few would care to tell. A
+cruel and shameful story of wrong and misery; for, my lady, I have been
+cruelly wronged by one who was once very near to you."
+
+Lady Thetford turned ashen white.
+
+"Very near to me! Do you mean----"
+
+"My lady, listen, and you shall hear. All those years that I have been
+with you, I have not been what I seemed. My name is not Weymore. My name
+is Thetford--as yours is."
+
+An awful terror had settled down on my lady's face. Her lips moved, but
+she did not speak. Her eyes were fixed on the sad, set face before her,
+with a wild, expectant stare.
+
+"I was a widow when I came to you," Mrs. Weymore went on to say, "but
+long before I had known that worst widowhood, desertion. I ran away from
+my happy home, from the kindest father and mother that ever lived; I ran
+away and was married and deserted before I was eighteen years old.
+
+"He came to our village, a remote place, my lady, with a local celebrity
+for its trout streams, and for nothing else. He came, the man whom I
+married, on a visit to the great house of the place. We had not the
+remotest connection with the house, or I might have known his real name.
+When I did know him it was as Mr. Noel--he told me himself, and I never
+thought of doubting it. I was as simple and confiding as it is possible
+for the simplest village girl to be, and all the handsome stranger told
+me was gospel truth; and my life only began, I thought, from the hour I
+saw him first.
+
+"I met him at the trout streams fishing, and alone. I had come to while
+the long, lazy hours under the trees. He spoke to me--the handsome
+stranger, whom I had seen riding through the village beside the squire,
+like a young prince; and I was only too pleased and flattered by his
+notice. It is many years ago, my lady, and Mr. Noel took a fancy to my
+pink-and-white face and fair curls, as fine gentlemen will. It was only
+fancy--never, at its best, love; or he would not have deserted me
+pitilessly as he did. I know it now; but then I took the tinsel for pure
+gold, and would as soon have doubted the Scripture as his lightest word.
+
+"My lady, it is a very old story, and very often told. We met by stealth
+and in secret; and weeks passed and I never learned he was other than
+what I knew him. I loved with my whole foolish, trusting heart, strongly
+and selfishly; and I was ready to give up home, and friends and
+parents--all the world for him. All the world, but not my good name, and
+he knew that; and, my lady, we were married--really and truly and
+honestly married, in a little church in Berkshire, in Windsor; and the
+marriage is recorded in the register of the church, and I have the
+marriage certificate here in my possession."
+
+Mrs. Weymore touched her bosom as she spoke, and looked with earnest,
+truthful eyes at Lady Thetford. But Lady Thetford's face was averted and
+not to be seen.
+
+"His fancy for me was as fleeting as all his fancies; but it was strong
+enough and reckless enough whilst it lasted to make him forget all
+consequences. For it was surely a reckless act for a gentleman, such as
+he was, to marry the daughter of a village schoolmaster.
+
+"There was but one witness to our marriage--my husband's servant--George
+Vyking. I never liked the man; he was crafty, and cunning, and
+treacherous, and ready for any deed of evil; but he was in his master's
+confidence, and took a house for us at Windsor and lived with us, and
+kept his master's secrets well."
+
+Mrs. Weymore paused, her hands fluttering in painful unrest. The averted
+face of Lady Thetford never turned, but a smothered voice bade her go
+on.
+
+"A year passed, my lady, and I still lived in the house at Windsor, but
+quite alone now. My punishment had begun very early; two or three months
+sufficed to weary my husband of his childish village girl, and make him
+thoroughly repent his folly. I saw it from the first--he never tried to
+hide it from me; his absence grew longer and longer, more and more
+frequent, until at last he ceased coming altogether. Vyking, the valet,
+came and went; and Vyking told me the truth--the hard, cruel, bitter
+truth, that I was never to see my husband more.
+
+"'It was the maddest act of a mad young man's life,' Vyking said to me,
+coolly, 'and he's repented of it, as I knew he would repent. You'll
+never see him again, mistress, and you needn't search for him, either.
+When you find last winter's snow, last autumn's partridges, then you may
+hope to find him.'
+
+"'But I am his wife,' I said; 'nothing can undo that--his lawful, wedded
+wife.'
+
+"'Yes,' said Vyking, 'his wife fast enough; but there's the law of
+divorce, and there's no witness but me alive, and you can do your best;
+and the best you can do is to take it easy and submit. He'll provide for
+you handsomely; and when he gets the divorce, if you like, I'll marry
+you myself.'
+
+"I had grown to expect some such revelation, I had been neglected so
+long. My lady, I don't speak of my feelings, my anguish and shame, and
+remorse and despair--I only tell you here simple facts. But in the days
+and weeks which followed, I suffered as I never can suffer again in this
+world.
+
+"I was held little better than a prisoner in the house at Windsor after
+that; and I think Vyking never gave up the hope that I would one day
+consent to marry him. More than once I tried to run away, to get on the
+track of my betrayer, but always to be met and foiled. I have gone down
+on my knees to that man Vyking, but I might as well have knelt to a
+statue of stone.
+
+"'I'll tell you what we'll do,' he said, 'we'll go to London. People are
+beginning to look and talk about here; there they know how to mind their
+own business.'
+
+"I consented readily enough. My one hope now was to find the man who had
+wronged me, and in London I thought I stood a better chance that at
+Windsor. We started, Vyking and I; but driving to the station we met
+with an accident, our horse ran away and I was thrown out; after that I
+hardly remember anything for a long time.
+
+"Weeks passed before I recovered. Then I was told my baby had been born
+and died. I listened in a sort of dull apathy; I had suffered so much
+that the sense of suffering was dulled and blunted. I knew Vyking well
+enough not to trust him or believe him; but I was powerless to act, and
+could only turn my face to the wall and pray to die.
+
+"But I grew strong, and Vyking took me to London, and left me in
+respectably-furnished lodgings. I might have escaped easily enough here,
+but the energy even to wish for freedom was gone; I sat all day long in
+a state of miserable, listless languor, heart-weary, heart-sick, worn
+out.
+
+"One day Vyking came to my rooms in a furious state of passion. He and
+his master had quarreled. I never knew about what; and Vyking had been
+ignominiously dismissed. The valet tore up and down my parlor in a
+towering passion.
+
+"'I'll make Sir Noel pay for it, or my name's not Vyking,' he cried. 'He
+thinks because he's married an heiress he can defy me now. But there's a
+law in this land to punish bigamy; and I'll have him up for bigamy the
+moment he's back from his wedding tour.'
+
+"I turned and looked at him, but very quietly, 'Sir Noel,' I said. 'Do
+you mean my husband?'
+
+"'I mean Miss Vandeleur's husband now,' said Vyking. '_You'll_ never see
+him again, my girl. Yes, he's Sir Noel Thetford, of Thetford Towers,
+Devonshire; and you can go and call on his pretty new wife as soon as
+she comes home.'
+
+"I turned away and looked out of the window without a word. Vyking
+looked at me curiously.
+
+"'Oh! we've got over it, have we; and we're going to take it easy and
+not make a scene? Now that's what I call sensible. And you'll come
+forward and swear Sir Noel guilty of bigamy?"
+
+"'No,' I said, 'I never will.'
+
+"'You won't--and why not?'
+
+"'Never mind why. I don't think you would understand if I told you--only
+I won't.'
+
+"'Couldn't you be coaxed?'
+
+"'No.'
+
+"'Don't be too sure. Perhaps I could tell you something that might move
+you, quiet as you are. What if I told you your baby did not die that
+time, but was alive and well?'
+
+"I knew a scene was worse than useless with this man, tears and
+entreaties thrown away. I heard his last words and started to my feet
+with outstretched hands.
+
+"'Vyking, for the dear Lord's sake, have pity on a desolate woman, and
+tell me the truth.'
+
+"'I am telling you the truth. Your boy is alive and well, and I've
+christened him Guy--Guy Vyking. Don't you be scared--he's all safe; and
+the day you appear in court against Sir Noel, that day he shall be
+restored to you. Now don't you go and get excited, think it over, and
+let me know your decision when I come back.'
+
+"He left the room before I could answer, and I never saw Vyking again.
+The next day, reading the morning paper, I saw the arrest of a pair of
+house-breakers, and the name of the chief was George Vyking, late valet
+to Sir Noel Thetford. I tried to get to see him in prison, but failed.
+His trial came on, his sentence was transportation for ten years; and
+Vyking left England, carrying my secret with him.
+
+"I had something left to live for now--the thought of my child. But
+where was I to find him, where to look? I, who had not a penny in the
+wide world. If I had had the means, I would have come to Devonshire to
+seek out the man who had so basely wronged me; but as I was, I could as
+soon have gone to the antipodes. Oh! it was a bitter, bitter time, that
+long, hard struggle, with starvation--a time it chills my blood even now
+to look back upon.
+
+"I was still in London, battling with grim poverty, when, six months
+later, I read in the _Times_ the awfully sudden death of Sir Noel
+Thetford, Baronet.
+
+"My lady, I am not speaking of the effect of that blow--I dare not to
+you, as deeply wronged as myself. You were with him in his dying
+moments, and surely he told you the truth then; surely he acknowledged
+the great wrong he had done you?"
+
+Mrs. Weymore paused, and Lady Thetford turned her face, her ghastly,
+white face, for the first time, to answer.
+
+"He did--he told me all; I know your story to be true."
+
+"Thank God! Oh, thank God! And he acknowledged his first marriage?"
+
+"Yes; the wrong he did you was venial to that which he did me--I, who
+never was his wife, never for one poor moment had a right to his name."
+
+Mrs. Weymore sunk down on her knees by the couch, and passionately
+kissed the lady's hand.
+
+"My lady! my lady! And you will forgive me for coming here? I did not
+know, when I answered Mr. Knight's advertisement, where I was coming;
+and when I did, I could not resist the temptation of looking on his son.
+Oh, my lady! you will forgive me, and bear witness to the truth of my
+story."
+
+"I will; I always meant to before I died. And that young man--that Guy
+Legard--you know he is your son?"
+
+"I knew it from the first. My lady, you will let me tell him at once,
+will you not? And Sir Rupert? Oh, my lady! he ought to know."
+
+Lady Thetford covered her face with a groan.
+
+"I promised his father on his death-bed to tell him long ago, to seek
+for his rightful heir--and see how I have kept my word. But I could
+not--I could not! It was not in human nature--not in such a nature as
+mine, wronged as I have been."
+
+"But now--oh, my dear lady! now you will?"
+
+"Yes, now, on the verge of the grave, I may surely speak. I dare not die
+with my promise unkept. This very night," Lady Thetford cried, sitting
+up, flushed and excited, "my boy shall know all--he shall not marry in
+ignorance of whom he really is. Aileen has the fortune of a princess;
+and Aileen will not love him less for the title he must lose. When he
+comes home, Mrs. Weymore, send him to me, and send your son with him,
+and I will tell them all."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+"THERE IS MANY A SLIP."
+
+
+A room that was like a picture--a carpet of rose-buds gleaming through
+rich green moss, lounges piled with downy-silk pillows, a bed curtained
+in foamy lace, a pretty room--Aileen Jocyln's _chambre-a-coucher_, and
+looking like a picture herself, in a flowing morning-robe, the rich,
+dark hair falling heavy and unbound to her waist, Aileen Jocyln lay
+among piles of scarlet cushions, like some young Eastern Sultana.
+
+Lay and music with, oh! such an infinitely happy smile upon her
+exquisite face; mused, as happy youth, loving and beloved, upon its
+bridal-eve doth muse. Nay, on her bridal-day, for the dainty little
+French clock on the bracket was pointing its golden hands to three.
+
+The house was very still; all had retired late, busy with preparations
+for the morrow, and Miss Jocyln had but just dismissed her maid. Every
+one, probably, but herself, was asleep; and she, in her unutterable
+bliss, was too happy for slumber. She arose presently, walked to the
+window and looked out. The late setting moon still swung in the sky; the
+stars still spangled the cloudless blue, and shone serene on the purple
+bosom of the far-spreading sea; but in the east the first pale glimmer
+of the new day shone--her happy wedding day. The girl slid down on her
+knees, her hands clasped, her radiant face glorified with love and
+bliss, turned ecstatically, as some faithful follower of the prophet
+might, to that rising glory of the east.
+
+"Oh!" Aileen thought, gazing around over the dark, deep sea, the
+star-gemmed sky, and the green radiance and sweetness of the earth,
+"what a beautiful, blissful world it is, and I the happiest creature in
+it!"
+
+Kneeling there, with her face still turned to that luminous East, the
+blissful bride fell asleep; slept, and dreamed dreams as joyful as her
+waking thoughts, and no shadow of that sweeping cloud that was to
+blacken all her world so soon fell upon her.
+
+Hours passed, and still Aileen slept. Then came an imperative knock at
+her door--again and again, louder each time; and then Aileen started up,
+fully awake. Her room was flooded with sunshine, and countless birds
+sang their glorias in the swaying green gloom of the branches, and the
+ceaseless sea was all a-glitter with sparkling sun-light.
+
+"Come in," Miss Jocyln said. It was her maid, she thought--and she
+walked over to an arm-chair and composedly sat down.
+
+The door opened, and Col. Jocyln, not Fanchon, appeared, an open note in
+his hand, his face full of trouble.
+
+"Papa!" Aileen cried, starting up in alarm.
+
+"Bad news, my daughter--very bad! very sorrowful! Read that."
+
+The note was very brief, in a spidery, female hand.
+
+     "DEAR COL. JOCYLN:--We are in the greatest trouble. Poor Lady
+     Thetford died with awful suddenness this morning in one of
+     those dreadful spasms. We are all nearly distracted. Rupert
+     bears it better than any of us. Pray come over as soon as you
+     can.
+
+     "MAY. EVERARD."
+
+Aileen Jocyln sunk back in her seat, pale and trembling.
+
+"Dead! Oh, papa! papa!"
+
+"It is very sad, my dear, and very shocking and terribly unfortunate
+that it should have occurred just at this time. A postponed wedding is
+ever ominous of evil."
+
+"Oh! pray, papa, don't think of that! Don't think of me! Poor Lady
+Thetford! Poor Rupert! You will go over at once, papa, will you not?"
+
+"Certainly, my dear. And I will tell the servants, so that when our
+guests arrive you may not be disturbed. Since it was to be," muttered
+the Indian officer under his moustache. "I would give half my fortune
+that it had been one day later. A postponed marriage is the most ominous
+thing under the sun."
+
+He left the room, and Aileen sat with her hands clasped, and an
+unutterable awe overpowering every other feeling. She forgot her own
+disappointment in the awful mystery of sudden death. Her share of the
+trial was light--a year of waiting, more or less; what did it matter,
+since Rupert loved her unchangeably? but, poor Lady Aileen, remembering
+how much the dead woman had loved her, and how fondly she had welcomed
+her as a daughter, covered her face with her hands, and wept as she
+might have wept for her own mother.
+
+"I never knew a mother's love or care," Aileen thought; "and I was
+doubly happy in knowing I was to have one at last. And now--and now----"
+
+It was a drearily long morning to the poor bride elect, sitting alone in
+her chamber. She heard the roll of carriages up the drive, the pause
+that ensued, and then their departure. She wondered how _he_ bore it
+best of all, May had said; but, then, he was ever still and strong and
+self-restrained. She knew how dear that poor, ailing mother had ever
+been to him, and she knew how bitterly he would feel her loss.
+
+"They talk of presentiments," mused Miss Jocyln, walking wearily to and
+fro; "and see how happy and hopeful I was this morning, whilst she lay
+dead and he mourned. If I only dared go to him--my own Rupert!"
+
+It was late in the afternoon before Col. Jocyln returned. He strode
+straight to his daughter's presence, wearing a pale, fagged face.
+
+"Well, papa?" she asked, faintly.
+
+"My pale Aileen!" he said, kissing her fondly; "my poor, patient girl! I
+am sorry you must undergo this trial, and," knitting his brows, "such
+talk as it will make."
+
+"Don't think of me, papa--my share is surely the lightest. But Rupert--"
+wistfully faltering.
+
+"There's something odd about Rupert; he was very fond of his mother, and
+he takes this a great deal too quietly. He looks like a man slowly
+turning to stone, with a face white and stern; and he never asked for
+you. He sat there with folded arms and that petrified face, gazing on
+his dead, until it chilled my blood to look at him. There's something
+odd and unnatural in this frozen calm. And, oh! by-the-bye! I forgot to
+tell you the strangest thing--May Everard it was told me; that painter
+fellow--what's his name--"
+
+"Legard, papa?"
+
+"Yes, Legard. He turns out to be the son of Mrs. Weymore; they
+discovered it last night. He was there in the room, with the most dazed
+and mystified and altogether bewildered expression of countenance I ever
+saw a man wear, and May and Mrs. Weymore sat crying incessantly. I
+couldn't see what occasion there was for the governess and the painter
+there in that room of death, and I said so to Miss Everard. There's
+something mysterious in the matter, for her face flushed and she
+stammered something about startling family secrets that had come to
+light, and the over-excitement of which had hastened Lady Thetford's
+end. I don't like the look of things, and I'm altogether in the dark.
+That painter resembles the Thetford's a great deal too closely for the
+mere work of chance; and yet, if Mrs. Weymore is his mother, I don't see
+how there can be anything in _that_. It's odd--confoundedly odd!"
+
+Col. Jocyln rumbled on as he walked the floor, his brows knitted into a
+swarthy frown. His daughter sat and eyed him wistfully.
+
+"Did no one ask for me, papa? Am I not to go over?"
+
+"Sir Rupert didn't ask for you! May Everard did, and I promised to fetch
+you to-morrow. Aileen, things at Thetford Towers have a suspicious look
+to-day; I can't see the light yet, but I suspect something wrong. It may
+be the very best thing that could possibly happen, this postponed
+marriage; I shall make Sir Rupert clear matters up completely before my
+daughter becomes his wife."
+
+Col. Jocyln, according to promise, took his daughter to Thetford Towers
+next morning. With bated breath and beating heart and noiseless tread,
+Aileen Jocyln entered the house of mourning, which yesterday she had
+thought to enter a bride. Dark and still, and desolate it lay, the
+morning light shut out, unbroken silence everywhere.
+
+"And this is the end of earth, its glory and its bliss," Aileen thought
+as she followed her father slowly up-stairs, "the solemn wonder of the
+winding-sheet and the grave."
+
+There were two watchers in the dark room when they entered--May Everard,
+pale and quiet, and the young artist, Guy Legard. Even in that moment,
+Col. Jocyln could not repress a supercilious stare of wonder to behold
+the housekeeper's son in the death-chamber of Lady Thetford. And yet it
+seemed strangely his place, for it might have been one of those lusty
+old Thetfords, framed and glazed up-stairs, stepped out of the canvas
+and dressed in the fashion of the day.
+
+"Very bad tastes all the same," the proud old colonel thought, with a
+frown: "very bad taste on the part of Sir Rupert. I shall speak to him
+on the subject presently."
+
+He stood in silence beside his daughter, looking down at the marble
+face. May, shivering drearily in a large shawl, and looking like a wan
+little spirit, was speaking in whispers to Aileen.
+
+"We persuaded Rupert--Mr. Legard and I--to go and lie down; he has
+neither eaten nor slept since his mother died. Oh, Aileen! I am so sorry
+for you!"
+
+"Hush!" raising one tremulous hand and turning away; "she was as dear to
+me as my own mother could have been! Don't think of me."
+
+"Shall we not see Sir Rupert?" the colonel asked. "I should like to,
+particularly."
+
+"I think not--unless you remain for some hours. He is completely worn
+out, poor fellow!"
+
+"How comes that young man here, Miss Everard?" nodding in the direction
+of Mr. Legard, who had withdrawn to a remote corner. "He may be a very
+especial friend of Sir Rupert's--but don't you think he presumes on that
+friendship?"
+
+Miss Everard's eyes flashed angrily.
+
+"No, sir! I think nothing of the sort! Mr. Legard has a perfect right to
+be in this room, or any other room at Thetford Towers. It is by Rupert's
+particular request he remains!"
+
+The colonel frowned again, and turned his back upon the speaker.
+
+"Aileen," he said, haughtily, "as Sir Rupert is not visible, nor likely
+to be for some time, perhaps you had better not linger. To-morrow, after
+the funeral, I shall speak to him very seriously."
+
+Miss Jocyln arose. She would rather have lingered, but she saw her
+father's annoyed face and obeyed him immediately. She bent and kissed
+the cold, white face, awful with the dread majesty of death.
+
+"For the last time, my friend, my mother," she murmured, "until we meet
+in heaven."
+
+She drew her veil over her face to hide her falling tears, and silently
+followed the stern and displeased Indian officer down-stairs and out of
+the house. She looked back wistfully once at the gray, old ivy-grown
+facade; but who was to tell her of the weary, weary months and years
+that would pass before she crossed that stately threshold again?
+
+It was a very grand and imposing ceremonial, that burial of Lady
+Thetford; and side by side with the heir walked the unknown painter, Guy
+Legard. Col. Jocyln was not the only friend of the family shocked on
+this occasion. What could Sir Rupert mean? And what did Mr. Legard mean
+by looking ten times more like the old Thetford race than Sir Noel's own
+son and heir?
+
+It was a miserable day, this day of the funeral. There was a sky of lead
+hanging low like a pall, and it was almost dark in the rainy afternoon
+gloaming when Col. Jocyln and Sir Rupert Thetford stood alone before the
+village church. Lady Thetford slept with the rest of the name in the
+stony vaults; the fair-haired artist stood in the porch, and Sir Rupert,
+with a face wan and stern, and spectral, in the dying daylight, stood
+face to face with the colonel.
+
+"A private interview," the colonel was repeating; "most certainly, Sir
+Rupert. Will you come with me to Jocyln Hall? My daughter will wish to
+see you."
+
+The young man nodded, went back a moment to speak to Legard, and then
+followed the colonel into the carriage. The drive was a very silent
+one--a vague, chilling presentiment of impending evil on the Indian
+officer as he uneasily watched the young man who had so nearly been his
+son.
+
+Aileen Jocyln, roaming like a restless ghost through the lonely, lofty
+rooms, saw them alight, and came out to the hall to meet her betrothed.
+She held out both hands shyly, looking up, half in fear, in the rigid,
+death-white face of her lover.
+
+"Aileen!"
+
+He took the hands and held them fast a moment; then dropped them and
+turned to the colonel.
+
+"Now, Col. Jocyln."
+
+The colonel led the way into the library. Sir Rupert paused a moment on
+the threshold to answer Aileen's pleading glance.
+
+"Only for a few moments, Aileen," he said, his eyes softening with
+infinite love; "in half an hour my fate shall be decided. Let that fate
+be what it may, I shall be true to you while life lasts."
+
+With these enigmatical words, he followed the colonel into the library,
+and the polished oaken door closed between him and Aileen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+PARTED.
+
+
+Half an hour had passed.
+
+Up and down the long drawing-room Aileen wandered aimlessly, oppressed
+with a dread of she knew not what, a prescience of evil, vague as it was
+terrible. The dark gloom of the rainy evening was not darker than that
+brooding shadow in her deep, dusky eyes.
+
+In the library Col. Jocyln stood facing his son-in-law elect, staring
+like a man bereft of his senses. The melancholy, half light coming
+through the oriel window by which he stood, fell full upon the face of
+Rupert Thetford, white and cold, and set as marble.
+
+"My God!" the Indian officer said, with wild eyes of terror and
+affright, "what is this you are telling me?"
+
+"The truth, Col. Jocyln--the simple truth. Would to Heaven I had known
+it years ago--this shameful story of wrong-doing and misery!"
+
+"I don't comprehend--I can't comprehend this impossible tale, Sir
+Rupert."
+
+"That is a misnomer now, Col. Jocyln. I am no longer _Sir_ Rupert."
+
+"Do you mean to say you credit this wild story of a former marriage of
+Sir Noel's? Do you really believe your late governess to have been your
+father's wife?"
+
+"I believe it, colonel. I have facts and statements and dying words to
+prove it. On my father's death-bed he made my mother swear to tell the
+truth; to repair the wrong he had done; to seek out his son, concealed
+by his valet, Vyking, and restore him to his rights! My mother never,
+kept that promise--the cruel wrong done to herself was too bitter; and
+at my birth she resolved never to keep it. I should not atone for the
+sin of my father; his elder son should never deprive _her_ child of his
+birthright. My poor mother! You know the cause of that mysterious
+trouble which fell upon her at my father's death, and which darkened her
+life to the last. Shame, remorse, anger--shame for herself--a wife only
+in name; remorse for her broken vow to the dead, and anger against that
+erring dead man."
+
+"But you told me she had hunted him up and provided for him," said the
+mystified colonel.
+
+"Yes; she saw an advertisement in a London paper calling upon Vyking to
+take charge of the boy he had left twelve years before. Now, Vyking, the
+valet, had been transported for house-breaking long before that, and my
+mother answered the advertisement. There could be no doubt the child was
+the child Vyking had taken charge of--Sir Noel Thetford's rightful heir.
+My mother left him with the painter, Legard, with whom he had grew up,
+whose name he took, and he is now at Thetford Towers."
+
+"I thought the likeness meant something," muttered the colonel; "his
+paternity is plainly enough written in his face. And so," raising his
+voice, "Mrs. Weymore recognized her son. Really, your story runs like a
+melodrama, where the hero turns out to be a duke and his mother knows
+the strawberry mark on his arm. Well, sir, if Mrs. Weymore is Sir Noel's
+rightful widow, and Guy Legard his rightful son and heir--pray what are
+you?"
+
+The colorless face of the young man turned dark-red for an instant, then
+whiter than before.
+
+"My, mother was as truly and really Sir Noel's wife as women can be the
+wife of man in the sight of Heaven. The crime was his; the shame and
+suffering hers; the atonement mine. Sir Noel's elder son shall be Sir
+Noel's heir--I will play usurper no longer. To-morrow I leave St.
+Gosport; the day after, England--never, perhaps, to return."
+
+"You are mad," Col. Jocyln said, turning very pale; "you do not mean
+it."
+
+"I am not mad, and I do mean it. I may be unfortunate; but, I pray God,
+never a villain! Right is right; my brother Guy is the rightful
+heir--not I!"
+
+"And Aileen?" Col. Jocyln's face turned dark and rigid as iron as he
+spoke his daughter's name.
+
+Rupert Thetford turned away his changing face, quite ghastly now.
+
+"It shall be as she says. Aileen is too noble and just herself not to
+honor me for doing right."
+
+"It shall be as I say," returned Col. Jocyln, with a voice that rang and
+an eye that flashed. "My daughter comes of a proud and stainless race,
+and never shall she mate with one less stainless. Hear me out, young
+man. It won't do to fire up--plain words are best suited to a plain
+case. All that has passed betwixt you and Miss Jocyln must be as if it
+had never been. The heir of Thetford Towers, honorably born, I consented
+she should marry; but, dearly as I love her, I would see her dead at my
+feet before she should mate with one who was nameless and impoverished.
+You said just now the atonement was yours--you said right; go, and never
+return."
+
+He pointed to the door; the young man, stonily still, took his hat.
+
+"Will you not permit your daughter, Col. Jocyln, to speak for herself?"
+he said, at the door.
+
+"No, sir. I know my daughter--my proud, high-spirited Aileen--and my
+answer is hers. I wish you good-night."
+
+He swung round abruptly, turning his back upon his visitor. Rupert
+Thetford, without one word, turned and walked out of the house.
+
+The bewildering rapidity of the shocks he had received had stunned
+him--he could not feel the pain now. There was a dull sense of aching
+torture over him from head to foot--but the acute edge was dulled; he
+walked along through the black night like a man drugged and stupefied.
+He was only conscious intensely of one thing--a wish to get away, never
+to set foot in St. Gosport again.
+
+Like one walking in his sleep, he reached Thetford Towers, his old home,
+every tree and stone of which was dear to him. He entered at once,
+passed into the drawing-room, and found Guy, the artist, sitting before
+the fire staring blankly into the coals, and May Everard roaming
+restlessly up and down, the firelight falling dully on her black robes
+and pale, tear-stained face. Both started at his entrance--all wet, and
+wild, and haggard; but neither spoke. There was that in his face which
+froze the words on their lips.
+
+"I am going away to-morrow," he said, abruptly, leaning against the
+mantle, and looking at them with weird, spectral eyes.
+
+May uttered a faint cry; Guy faced him almost fiercely.
+
+"Going away! What do you mean, Sir Rupert? We are going away together,
+if you like."
+
+"No; I go alone. You remain here; it is your place now."
+
+"Never!" cried the young artist--"never! I will go out and die like a
+dog, in a ditch, before I rob you of your birthright!"
+
+"You reverse matters," said Rupert Thetford; "it is I who have robbed
+you, unwittingly, for too many years. I promised my mother on her
+death-bed, as she promised my father on his, that you should have your
+right, and I will keep that promise. Guy, dear old fellow! don't let us
+quarrel, now that we are brothers, after being friends so long. Take
+what is your own; the world is all before me, and surely I am man enough
+to win my own way. Not one other word; you shall not come with me; you
+might as well talk to these stone walls and try to move them as to me.
+To-morrow I go, and go alone."
+
+"Alone!" It was May who breathlessly repeated the word.
+
+"Alone! All the ties that bound me here are broken; I go alone and
+single-handed to fight the battle of life. Guy, I have spoken to the
+rector about you--you will find him your friend and aider; and May is to
+make her home at the rectory. And now," turning suddenly and moving to
+the door, "as I start early to-morrow, I believe I'll retire early.
+Good-night."
+
+And then he was gone, and Guy and May were left staring at each other
+with blank faces.
+
+The storm of wind and rain sobbed itself out before midnight, and in the
+bluest of skies, heralded by banners of rosy clouds, rose up the sun
+next morning. Before that rising sun had gilded the tops of the tallest
+oaks in the park he, who had so lately called it all his own, had opened
+the heavy oaken door and passed from Thetford Towers, as home, forever.
+The house was very still--no one had risen; he had left a note to Guy,
+with a few brief, warm words of farewell.
+
+"Better so," he thought--"better so! He and May will be happy together,
+for I know he loves her and she him. The memory of my leave-taking shall
+never come to cloud their united lives."
+
+One last backward glance at the eastern windows turning to gold; at the
+sea blushing back the first glance of the day-king; at the waving trees
+and swelling meadows, and then he had passed down the avenue, out
+through the massive entrance-gates, and was gone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+AFTER FIVE YEARS.
+
+
+Moonlight falling like a silvery veil over Venice--a crystal clear
+crescent in a purple sky shimmering on palace and prison, churches,
+squares and canals, on the gliding gondolas and the flitting forms
+passing like noiseless shadows to and fro.
+
+A young lady leaned from a window of a vast Venetian hotel, gazing
+thoughtfully at the silver-lighted landscape, so strange, so unreal, so
+dream-like to her unaccustomed eyes. A young lady, stately and tall,
+with a pale, proud face, and a statuesque sort of beauty that was
+perfect in its way. She was dressed in trailing robes of crape and
+bombazine, and the face, turned to the moonlight, was cold and still as
+marble.
+
+She turned her eyes from the moonlit canal, down which dark gondolas
+floated to the music of the gay gondolier's song; once, as an English
+voice in the piazza below sung a stave of a jingling barcarole--
+
+    "Oh! gay we row where full tides flow!
+      And bear our bounding pinnace;
+    And leap along where song meets song,
+      Across the waves of Venice."
+
+The singer, a tall young man, with a florid face and yellow
+side-whiskers, an unmistakable son of the "right little, tight little"
+island, paused in his song, as another man, stepping through an open
+window, struck him an airy, sledge-hammer slap on the back.
+
+"I ought to know that voice," said the last comer.
+
+"Mortimer, my lad, how goes it?"
+
+"Stafford!" cried the singer, seizing the outstretched hand in a genuine
+English grip, "happy to meet you, old boy, in the land of romance! La
+Fabre told me you were coming, but who would look for you so soon! I
+thought you were doing Sorrento?"
+
+"Got tired of Sorrento," said Stafford, taking his arm for a walk
+up and down the piazza; "there's a fever there, too--quite an
+epidemic--malignant typhus. Discretion is the better part of valor where
+Sorrento fevers are concerned. I left."
+
+"When did you reach Venice?" asked Mortimer, lighting a cigar.
+
+"An hour ago; and now who's here? Any one I know!"
+
+"Lots. The Cholmonadeys, the Lythons, the Howards, of Leighwood; and,
+by-the-bye, they have with them the Marble Bride."
+
+"The which?" asked Mr. Stafford.
+
+"The Marble Bride, the Princess Frostina; otherwise Miss Aileen Jocyln,
+of Jocyln Hall Devonshire. You knew the old colonel, I think; he died
+over a year ago, you remember."
+
+"Ah, yes! I remember. Is she here with the Howards, and as handsome as
+ever, no doubt?"
+
+"Handsome, to my mind, with an uplifted and unapproachable sort of
+beauty. A fellow might as soon love some bright particular star, etc.,
+as the fabulously wealthy heiress of all the Jocylns. She has no end of
+suitors--all the best men here bow at the shrine of the ice-cold Aileen,
+and all in vain."
+
+"You among the rest, my friend?" with a light laugh.
+
+"No, by Jove!" cried Mr. Mortimer; "that sort of thing--the marble
+style, you know--never was to my taste. I admire Miss Jocyln
+immensely--just as I do the moon up there, with no particular desire
+ever to be nearer."
+
+"What was that story I heard once, five years ago, about a
+broken engagement? Wasn't Thetford of that ilk the hero of the
+tale?--the romantic Thetford, who resigned his title and estate to a
+mysteriously-found elder brother, you know. The story ran through the
+papers and the clubs at the time like wildfire, and set the whole
+country talking, I remember. She was engaged to him, wasn't she, and
+broke off?"
+
+"So goes the story--but who knows? I recollect that odd affair perfectly
+well; it was like the melodramas on the sunny side of the Thames. I know
+the 'mysteriously-found elder brother,' too--very fine fellow, Sir Guy
+Thetford, and married to the prettiest little wife the sun shines on. I
+must say Rupert Thetford behaved wonderfully well in that unpleasant
+business; very few men would do as he did--they would, at least, have
+made a fight for the title and estates. By-the-way, I wonder whatever
+became of him?"
+
+"I left him at Sorrento," said Stafford, coolly.
+
+"The deuce you did! What was he doing there?"
+
+"Raving in the fever; so the people told me with whom he stopped. I just
+discovered he was in the place as I was about to leave it. He had fallen
+very low, I fancy; his pictures didn't sell, I suppose; he has been in
+the painting line since he ceased to be Sir Rupert, and the world has
+gone against him. Rather hard on him to lose fortune, title, home,
+bride, and all at one fell swoop. Some women there are who would go with
+their plighted husbands to beggary; but I suppose the lovely Aileen is
+not one of them."
+
+"And so you left him ill of the fever? Poor fellow!"
+
+"Dangerously ill."
+
+"And the people with whom he is will take very little care of him; he's
+as good as dead. Let us go in--I want to have a look at the latest
+English papers."
+
+The two men passed in, out of the moonlight, off the piazza, all
+unconscious that they had had a listener. The pale watcher in the
+trailing black robes, scarcely heeding them at first, had grown more and
+more absorbed in the careless conversation. She caught her breath in
+quick, short gasps, the dark eyes dilated, the slender hands pressed
+themselves tight over the throbbing heart. As they went in off the
+balcony she slid from her seat and held up her clasped hands to the
+luminous night sky.
+
+"Hear me, oh, God!" the white lips cried--"I, who have aided in wrecking
+a noble heart--hear me, and help me to keep my vow! I offer my whole
+life in atonement for the cruel and wicked past. If he dies, I shall go
+to my grave his unwedded widow. If he lives----"
+
+Her voice faltered and died out, her face drooped forward on the
+window-sill, and the flashing moonlight fell like a benediction on the
+bowed young head.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+AT SORRENTO.
+
+
+The low light in the western sky was dying out; the bay of Naples lay
+rosy in the haze of the dying day; and on this scene an invalid, looking
+from a window high up on the sea-washed cliff at Sorrento, gazed
+languidly.
+
+For he was surely an invalid who sat in that window chair and gazed at
+the wondrous Italian sea and that lovely Italian sky; surely an invalid,
+with that pallid face, those spectral, hollow eyes, those sunken cheeks,
+those bloodless lips; surely an invalid, and one but lately risen from
+the very gates of death--a pale shadow, worn and weak as a child.
+
+As he sits there, where he has sat for hours, lonely and alone, the door
+opens, and an English face looks in--the face of an Englishman of the
+lower classes.
+
+"A visitor for you, sir--just come, and a-foot; a lady, sir. She will
+not give her name, but wishes to see you most particular, if you
+please."
+
+"A lady! To see me?"
+
+The invalid opens his great, dark eyes in wonder as he speaks.
+
+"Yes, sir; an English lady, sir, dressed in black, and a wearing of a
+thick veil. She asked for Mr. Rupert Thetford as soon as she see me, as
+plain, as plain, sir----"
+
+The young man in the chair started, half rose, and then sank back--a
+wild, eager light lit in the hollow eyes.
+
+"Let her come in; I will see her!"
+
+The man disappeared; there was an instant's pause, then a tall, slender
+figure, draped and veiled in black, entered alone.
+
+The visitor stood still. Once more the invalid attempted to rise, once
+more his strength failed him. The lady threw back her veil with a sudden
+motion.
+
+"My God, Aileen!"
+
+"Rupert!"
+
+She was on her knees before him, lifting her suppliant hands.
+
+"Forgive me! Forgive me! I have seemed the most heartless and cruel of
+women! But I, too, have suffered. I am base and unworthy; but, oh!
+forgive me, if you can!"
+
+The old love, stronger than death, shone in her eyes, plead in her
+passionate, sobbing voice, and went to his very heart.
+
+"I have been so wretched, so wretched all these miserable years! Whilst
+my father lived I would not disobey his stern command that I was never
+to attempt to see or hear from you, and at his death I could not. You
+seemed lost to me and the world. Only by the merest accident I heard in
+Venice you were here, and ill--dying. I lost no time, I came hither at
+once, hoping against hope to find you alive. Thank God I did come! Oh,
+Rupert! Rupert! for the sake of the past forgive me!"
+
+"Forgive you!" and he tried to raise her. "Aileen--darling!"
+
+His weak arms encircled her, and the pale lips pressed passionate kisses
+on the tear-wet face.
+
+So, whilst the red glory of the sunset lay on the sea, and till the
+silver stars spangled the sky, the reunited lovers sat in the soft haze
+as Adam and Eve may have in the loveliness of Eden.
+
+"How long since you left England?" Rupert asked at length.
+
+"Two years ago; poor papa died in the south of France. You mustn't blame
+him too much, Rupert."
+
+"My dearest, we will talk of blaming no one. And Guy and May are
+married? I knew they would be."
+
+"Did you? I was so surprised when I read it in the _Times_; for you know
+May and I never corresponded--she was frantically angry with me. Do they
+know you are here?"
+
+"No; I rarely write, and I am constantly moving about; but I know Guy is
+very much beloved in St. Gosport. We will go back to England one of
+these days, my darling, and give them the greatest surprise they have
+received since Sir Guy Thetford learned who he really was."
+
+He smiled as he said it--the old bright smile she remembered so well.
+Tears of joy filled the beautiful, upturned eyes.
+
+"And you will go back? Oh, Rupert! it needed but this to complete my
+happiness!"
+
+He drew her closer, and then there was a long, delicious silence, whilst
+they watched together the late-rising moon climbing the misty hills
+above Castlemare.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+AT HOME.
+
+
+Another sunset, red and gorgeous, over swelling English meadows, waving
+trees, and grassy terrace, lighting up with its crimson radiance the
+gray forest of Thetford Towers.
+
+In the pretty, airy summer drawing-room, this red sunset streams through
+open western windows, kindling everything into living light. It falls on
+the bright-haired, girlish figure, dressed in floating white, seated in
+an arm-chair in the center of the room: too childish looking, you might
+fancy, at first sight, to be mamma to that fat baby she holds in her
+lap; but she is not a bit too childish. And that is papa, tall and
+handsome and happy, who leans over the chair and looks as men do look on
+what is the apple of their eye and the pride of their heart.
+
+"It is high time baby was christened, Guy," Lady Thetford--for, of
+course, Lady Thetford it is--was saying; "and, do you know, I'm really
+at a loss for a name. You won't let me call him Guy, and I shan't call
+him Noel--and so what is it to be?"
+
+"Rupert, of course," Sir Guy suggests; and little Lady Thetford pouts.
+
+"He doesn't deserve the compliment. Shabby fellow! To keep wandering
+about the world as he does, and never to answer one's letter; and I sent
+him half a ream last time, if I sent him a sheet, telling all about
+baby, and asking him to come and be godfather, and coaxing him with the
+eloquence of a female Demos--what-you-may-call-him. And to think it
+should be all of no use! To think of not receiving a line in return! It
+is using me shamefully, and I don't believe I will call baby Rupert."
+
+"Oh, yes you will, my dear! Well, Smithers, what is it?"
+
+For Mr. Smithers, the butler, stood in the doorway, with a very pale and
+startled face.
+
+"It's a gentleman--leastways a lady--leastways a lady and gentleman. Oh!
+here they come theirselves!"
+
+Mr. Smithers retired precipitately, still pale and startled of visage,
+as a gentleman, with a lady on his arm, stood before Sir Guy and Lady
+Thetford.
+
+There was a cry, a half shout, from the young baronet, a wild shriek
+from the lady. She sprung to her feet, and, nearly dropped the precious
+baby.
+
+"Rupert! Aileen!"
+
+She never got any further--this impetuous little Lady Thetford; for she
+was kissing first one, then the other, crying and laughing and talking,
+all in one breath.
+
+"Oh, what a surprise this is! Oh, Rupert! I'm so glad, so glad to see
+you again! Oh, Aileen! I never, never hoped for this! Oh! good gracious,
+Guy, did you ever!"
+
+But Guy was wringing his brother's hand, with bright tears standing in
+his eyes, and quite unable to reply.
+
+"And this is the baby, May? The wonderful baby you wrote me so much
+about," Mr. Rupert Thetford said. "A noble little fellow, upon my
+word--and a Thetford from top to toe. Am I in season to be godfather!"
+
+"Just in time; and we are going to call it Rupert; and I was just
+scolding dreadfully because you hadn't answered my letter, never
+dreaming that you were coming to answer in person! I would as soon have
+expected the man in the moon. And Aileen, too! And to think you should
+be married, after all! Oh, gracious me! Do sit down and tell me all
+about it!"
+
+It was such a delightful evening, so like old times, and May in the
+possession of a baby, that Rupert and Aileen nearly went delirious with
+delight.
+
+"And you are going to remain in England?" Sir Guy eagerly asked, when he
+had heard a resume of those past five years. "Going to reside at Jocyln
+Hall?"
+
+"Yes; and be neighbors, if you will let us."
+
+"Oh, I am so glad!"
+
+"I promised Aileen; and now--now I am willing to be at home in England,"
+and he looked fondly at his wife.
+
+"It is just like a fairy-tale," said May.
+
+"We haven't yet been to Jocyln Hall. We came at once here, to see this
+prodigy of babies--my wonderful little namesake."
+
+Very late that night, when the reunited friends sought their chambers,
+May lifted her golden head off the pillow, and looked at her husband
+entering the room.
+
+"It's so very odd, Guy," slowly and drowsily, "to think that, after all,
+a _Rupert Thetford_ should be SIR NOEL'S HEIR."
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIR NOEL'S HEIR***
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+<body>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Sir Noel's Heir, by May Agnes Fleming</h1>
+<pre>
+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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Sir Noel's Heir</p>
+<p>       A Novel</p>
+<p>Author: May Agnes Fleming</p>
+<p>Release Date: April 22, 2011  [eBook #35931]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIR NOEL'S HEIR***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h4>E-text prepared by Robert Cicconetti, Mary Meehan,<br />
+    and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br />
+    from page images generously made available by<br />
+    Early Canadiana Online<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.canadiana.org">http://www.canadiana.org</a>)</h4>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10">
+  <tr>
+    <td valign="top">
+      Note:
+    </td>
+    <td>
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Early Canadiana Online. See
+      <a href="http://www.canadiana.org/ECO/ItemRecord/17010?id=991eb2932c65376b">
+      http://www.canadiana.org/ECO/ItemRecord/17010?id=991eb2932c65376b</a>
+	</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h1>SIR NOEL'S HEIR.</h1>
+
+<h3>A Novel.</h3>
+
+<h2>BY Mrs. MAY AGNES FLEMING</h2>
+
+<h3>Author of "GUY EARLSCOURT'S WIFE," "A TERRIBLE SECRET," "A WONDERFUL
+WOMAN," Etc.</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+
+<h3>NEW YORK:<br />
+THE FEDERAL BOOK COMPANY,<br />
+PUBLISHERS.</h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. -->
+<p>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. SIR NOEL'S DEATH-BED.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. CAPT. EVERARD.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. "LITTLE MAY."</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. MRS. WEYMORE.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. A JOURNEY TO LONDON.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. GUY.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. COLONEL JOCYLN.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. LADY THETFORD'S BALL.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. GUY LEGARD.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. ASKING IN MARRIAGE.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. ON THE WEDDING EVE.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. MRS. WEYMORE'S STORY.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. "THERE IS MANY A SLIP."</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. PARTED.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. AFTER FIVE YEARS.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. AT SORRENTO.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. AT HOME.</a><br />
+</p>
+<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. -->
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>SIR NOEL'S HEIR.</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+<h3>SIR NOEL'S DEATH-BED.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The December night had closed in wet and wild around Thetford Towers. It
+stood down in the low ground, smothered in trees, a tall, gaunt, hoary
+pile of gray stone, all peaks, and gables and stacks of chimneys, and
+rook-infested turrets. A queer, massive, old house, built in the days of
+James the First, by Sir Hugo Thetford, the first baronet of the name,
+and as staunch and strong now as then.</p>
+
+<p>The December day had been overcast and gloomy, but the December night
+was stormy and wild. The wind worried and wailed through the tossing
+trees with whistling moans and shrieks that were desolately human, and
+made me think of the sobbing banshee of Irish legends. Far away the
+mighty voice of the stormy sea mingled its hoarse-bass, and the rain
+lashed the windows in long, slanting lines. A desolate night and a
+desolate scene without; more desolate still within, for on his bed, this
+tempestuous winter night, the last of the Thetford baronets lay dying.</p>
+
+<p>Through the driving wind and lashing rain a groom galloped along the
+high road to the village at break-neck speed. His errand was to Dr.
+Gale, the village surgeon, which gentleman he found just preparing to go
+to bed.</p>
+
+<p>"For God's sake, doctor!" cried the man, white as a sheet, "come with me
+at once! Sir Noel's killed!"</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Gale, albeit phlegmatic, staggered back, and stared at the speaker
+aghast.</p>
+
+<p>"What? Sir Noel killed?"</p>
+
+<p>"We're afraid so, doctor; none of us knows for certain sure, but he lies
+there like a dead man. Come quick, for the love of goodness, if you want
+to do any service!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be with you in five minutes," said the doctor, leaving the room to
+order his horse and don his hat and great coat.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Gale was as good as his word. In less than ten minutes he and the
+groom were flying recklessly along to Thetford Tower.</p>
+
+<p>"How did it happen?" asked the doctor, hardly able to speak for the
+furious pace at which they were going. "I thought he was at Lady
+Stokestone's ball."</p>
+
+<p>"He did go," replied the groom; "leastways he took my lady there; but he
+said he had a friend to meet from London at the Royal George to-night,
+and he rode back. We don't, none of us, know how it happened; for a
+better or surer rider than Sir Noel there ain't in Devonshire; but Diana
+must have slipped and threw him. She came galloping in by herself about
+half an hour ago all blown; and me and three more set off to look for
+Sir Noel. We found him about twenty yards from the gates, lying on his
+face in the mud, and as stiff and cold as if he was dead."</p>
+
+<p>"And you brought him home and came for me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Directly, sir. Some wanted to send word to my lady; but Mrs. Hilliard,
+she thought how you had best see him first, sir, so's we'd know what
+danger he was really in before alarming her ladyship."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite right, William. Let us trust it may not be serious. Had Sir Noel
+been&mdash;I mean, I suppose he had been dining?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, doctor," said William, "Arneaud, that's his <i>valet de chambre</i>,
+you know, said he thought he had taken more wine than was prudent going
+to Lady Stokestone's ball, which her ladyship is very particular about
+such, you know, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! that accounts," said the doctor, thoughtfully; "and now William, my
+man, don't let's talk any more, for I feel completely blown already."</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes' sharp riding brought them to the great entrance gates of
+Thetford Towers. An old woman came out of a little lodge, built in the
+huge masonry, to admit them, and they dashed up the long winding avenue
+under the surging oaks and chestnuts. Five minutes more and Dr. Gale was
+running up a polished staircase of black, slippery oak, down an equally
+wide and black and slippery passage, and into the chamber where Sir Noel
+lay.</p>
+
+<p>A grand and stately chamber, lofty, dark and wainscoted, where the wax
+candles made luminous clouds in the darkness, and the wood-fire on the
+marble hearth failed to give heat. The oak floor was overlaid with
+Persian rugs; the windows were draped in green velvet and the chairs
+were upholstered in the same. Near the center of the apartment stood the
+bed, tall, broad, quaintly carved, curtained in green velvet, and on it,
+cold and lifeless, lay the wounded man. Mrs. Hilliard, the housekeeper,
+sat beside him, and Arneaud, the Swiss valet, with a frightened face,
+stood near the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Very shocking business this, Mrs. Hilliard," said the doctor, removing
+his hat and gloves&mdash;"very shocking. How is he? Any signs of
+consciousness yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"None whatever, sir," replied the housekeeper, rising. "I am so thankful
+you have come. We, none of us, know what to do for him, and it is
+dreadful to see him lying there like that."</p>
+
+<p>She moved away, leaving the doctor to his examination. Ten minutes,
+fifteen, twenty passed, then Dr. Gale turned to her with a very pale,
+grave face.</p>
+
+<p>"It is too late, Mrs. Hilliard. Sir Noel is a dead man!"</p>
+
+<p>"Dead?" repeated Mrs. Hilliard, trembling and holding by a chair. "Oh,
+my lady! my lady!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to bleed him," said the doctor, "to restore consciousness.
+He may last until morning. Send for Lady Thetford at once."</p>
+
+<p>Arneaud started up. Mrs. Hilliard looked at him, wringing her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Break it gently, Arneaud. Oh, my lady! my dear lady! So young and so
+pretty&mdash;and only married five months!"</p>
+
+<p>The Swiss valet left the room. Dr. Gale got out his lancet, and desired
+Mrs. Hilliard to hold the basin. At first the blood refused to flow&mdash;but
+presently it came in a little, feeble stream. The closed eyelids
+fluttered; there was a restless movement and Sir Noel Thetford opened
+his eyes in this mortal life once more. He looked first at the doctor,
+grave and pale, then at the housekeeper, sobbing on her knees by the
+bed. He was a young man of seven-and-twenty, fair and handsome, as it
+was in the nature of the Thetfords to be.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" he faintly asked. "What is the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are hurt, Sir Noel," the doctor answered, sadly; "you have been
+thrown from your horse. Don't attempt to move&mdash;you are not able."</p>
+
+<p>"I remember&mdash;I remember," said the young man, a gleam of recollection
+lighting up his ghastly face. "Diana slipped, and I was thrown. How long
+ago is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"About an hour."</p>
+
+<p>"And I am hurt? Badly."</p>
+
+<p>He fixed his eyes with a powerful lock on the doctor's face, and that
+good man shrunk away from the news he must tell.</p>
+
+<p>"Badly?" reiterated the young baronet, in a peremptory tone, that told
+all of his nature. "Ah! you won't speak, I see! I am, and I feel&mdash;I
+feel. Doctor, am I going to die?"</p>
+
+<p>He asked the question with a sudden wildness&mdash;a sudden horror of death,
+half starting up in bed. Still the doctor did not speak; still Mrs.
+Hilliard's suppressed sobs echoed in the stillness of the vast room.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Noel Thetford fell back on his pillow, a shadow as ghastly and awful
+as death itself lying on his face. But he was a brave man and the
+descendant of a fearless race; and except for one convulsive throe that
+shook him from head to foot, nothing told his horror of his sudden fate.
+There was a weird pause. Sir Noel lay staring straight at the oaken
+wall, his bloodless face awful in its intensity of hidden feeling. Rain
+and wind outside rose higher and higher, and beat clamorously at the
+windows; and still above them, mighty and terrible, rose the far-off
+voice of the ceaseless sea.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor was the first to speak, in hushed and awe-struck tones.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Sir Noel, the time is short, and I can do little or nothing.
+Shall I send for the Rev. Mr. Knight?"</p>
+
+<p>The dying eyes turned upon him with a steady gaze.</p>
+
+<p>"How long have I to live? I want the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Noel, it is very hard, yet it must be Heaven's will. But a few
+hours, I fear."</p>
+
+<p>"So soon?" said the dying man. "I did not think&mdash;&mdash;Send for Lady
+Thetford," he cried, wildly, half raising himself again&mdash;"send for Lady
+Thetford at once!"</p>
+
+<p>"We have sent for her," said the doctor; "she will be here very soon.
+But the clergyman, Sir Noel&mdash;the clergyman. Shall we not send for him?"</p>
+
+<p>"No!" said Sir Noel, sharply. "What do I want of a clergyman? Leave me,
+both of you. Stay, you can give me something, Gale, to keep up my
+strength to the last? I shall need it. Now go. I want to see no one but
+Lady Thetford."</p>
+
+<p>"My lady has come!" cried Mrs. Hilliard, starting to her feet; and at
+the same moment the door was opened by Arneaud, and a lady in a
+sparkling ball-dress swept in. She stood for a moment on the threshold,
+looking from face to face with a bewildered air.</p>
+
+<p>She was very young&mdash;scarcely twenty, and unmistakably beautiful. Taller
+than common, willowy and slight, with great, dark eyes, flowing dark
+curls, and a colorless olive skin. The darkly handsome face, with pride
+in every feature, was blanched now almost to the hue of the dying man's;
+but that glittering, bride-like figure, with its misty point-lace and
+blazing diamonds, seemed in strange contradiction to the idea of death.</p>
+
+<p>"My lady! my lady!" cried Mrs. Hilliard, with a suppressed sob, moving
+near her.</p>
+
+<p>The deep, dark eyes turned upon her for an instant, then wandered back
+to the bed; but she never moved.</p>
+
+<p>"Ada," said Sir Noel, faintly, "come here. The rest of you go. I want no
+one but my wife."</p>
+
+<p>The graceful figure in its shining robes and jewels, flitted over and
+dropped on its knees by his side. The other three quitted the room and
+closed the door. Husband and wife were alone with only death to
+overhear.</p>
+
+<p>"Ada, my poor girl, only five months a wife&mdash;it is very hard on you; but
+it seems I must go. I have a great deal to say to you, Ada&mdash;that I can't
+die without saying. I have been a villain, Ada&mdash;the greatest villain on
+earth to you."</p>
+
+<p>She had not spoken. She did not speak. She knelt beside him, white and
+still, looking and listening with strange calm. There was a sort of
+white horror in her face, but very little of the despairing grief one
+would naturally look for in the dying man's wife.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't ask you to forgive me, Ada&mdash;I have wronged you too deeply for
+that; but I loved you so dearly&mdash;so dearly! Oh, my God! what a lost and
+cruel wretch I have been."</p>
+
+<p>He lay panting and gasping for breath. There was a draught which Dr.
+Gale had left standing near, and he made a motion for it. She held it to
+his lips, and he drank; her hand was unsteady and spilled it, but still
+she never spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot speak loudly, Ada," he said, in a husky whisper, "my strength
+seems to grow less every moment; but I want you to promise me before I
+begin my story that you will do what I ask. Promise! promise!"</p>
+
+<p>He grasped her wrist and glared at her almost fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>"Promise!" he reiterated. "Promise! promise!"</p>
+
+<p>"I promise," she said, with white lips.</p>
+
+<p>"May Heaven deal with you, Ada Thetford, as you keep that promise.
+Listen now."</p>
+
+<p>The wild night wore on. The cries of the wind in the trees grew louder
+and wilder and more desolate. The rain beat and beat against the
+curtained glass; the candles grettered and flared; and the wood-fire
+flickered and died out.</p>
+
+<p>And still, long after the midnight hour had tolled, Ada, Lady Thetford,
+in her lace and silk and jewels, knelt beside her young husband, and
+listened to the dark and shameful story he had to tell. She never once
+faltered, she never spoke or stirred; but her face was whiter than her
+dress, and her great dark eyes dilated with a horror too intense for
+words.</p>
+
+<p>The voice of the dying man sank lower and lower&mdash;it fell to a dull,
+choking whisper at last.</p>
+
+<p>"You have heard all," he said huskily.</p>
+
+<p>"All?"</p>
+
+<p>The word dropped from her lips like ice&mdash;the frozen look of blank horror
+never left her face.</p>
+
+<p>"And you will keep your promise?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"God bless you! I can die now! Oh, Ada! I cannot ask you to forgive me;
+but I love you so much&mdash;so much! Kiss me once, Ada, before I go."</p>
+
+<p>His voice failed even with the words. Lady Thetford bent down and
+kissed him, but her lips were as cold and white as his own.</p>
+
+<p>They were the last words Sir Noel Thetford ever spoke. The restless sea
+was sullenly ebbing, and the soul of the man was floating away with it.
+The gray, chill light of a new day was dawning over the Devonshire
+fields, rainy and raw, and with its first pale ray the soul of Noel
+Thetford, baronet, left the earth forever.</p>
+
+<p>An hour later, Mrs. Hilliard and Dr. Gale ventured to enter. They had
+rapped again and again; but there had been no response, and alarmed they
+had come in. Stark and rigid already lay what was mortal of the Lord of
+Thetford Towers; and still on her knees, with that frozen look on her
+face, knelt his living wife.</p>
+
+<p>"My lady! my lady!" cried Mrs. Hilliard, her tears falling like rain.
+"Oh! my dear lady, come away!"</p>
+
+<p>She looked up; then again at the marble form on the bed, and without a
+word or cry, slipped back in the old housekeeper's arms in a dead faint.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+<h3>CAPT. EVERARD.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was a very grand and stately ceremonial, that funeral procession from
+Thetford Towers. A week after that stormy December night they laid Sir
+Noel Thetford in the family vault, where generation after generation of
+his race slept their last long sleep. The gentry for miles and miles
+around were there, and among them came the heir-at-law, the Rev. Horace
+Thetford, only an obscure country curate now, but failing male heirs to
+Sir Noel, successor to the Thetford estate and fifteen thousand a year.</p>
+
+<p>In a bedchamber, luxurious as wealth can make a room, lay Lady Thetford,
+dangerously ill. It was not a brain fever exactly, but something very
+like it into which she had fallen, coming out of the death-like swoon.
+It was all very sad and shocking&mdash;the sudden death of the gay and
+handsome young baronet, and the serious illness of his poor wife. The
+funeral oration of the Rev. Mr. Knight, rector of St. Gosport, from the
+text, "In the midst of life we are in death," was most eloquent and
+impressive, and women with tender hearts shed tears, and men listened
+with grave, sad faces. It was such a little while&mdash;only five short
+months&mdash;since the wedding-bells had rung, and there had been bonfires
+and feasting throughout the village; and Sir Noel, looking so proud and
+so happy, had driven up to the illuminated hall with his handsome bride.
+Only five months; and now&mdash;and now.</p>
+
+<p>The funeral was over and everybody had gone back home&mdash;everybody but the
+Rev. Horace Thetford, who lingered to see the result of my lady's
+illness, and if she died, to take possession of his estate. It was
+unutterably dismal in the dark, hushed old house, with Sir Noel's ghost
+seeming to haunt every room&mdash;very dismal and ghastly this waiting to
+step into dead people's shoes. But then there was fifteen thousand a
+year, and the finest place in Devonshire; and the Rev. Horace would have
+faced a whole regiment of ghosts and lived in a vault for that.</p>
+
+<p>But Lady Thetford did not die. Slowly but surely, the fever that had
+worn her to a shadow left her; and by-and-bye, when the early primroses
+peeped through the first blackened earth, she was able to come
+down-stairs&mdash;to come down feeble and frail and weak, colorless as death
+and as silent and cold.</p>
+
+<p>The Rev. Horace went back to Yorkshire, yet not entirely in despair.
+Female heirs could not inherit Thetford&mdash;he stood a chance yet; and the
+widow, not yet twenty, was left alone in the dreary old mansion. People
+were very sorry for her, and came to see her, and begged her to be
+resigned to her great loss; and Mr. Knight preached endless homilies on
+patience, and hope, and submission, and Lady Thetford listened to them
+just as if they had been talking Greek. She never spoke of her dead
+husband&mdash;she shivered at the mention of his name; but that night at his
+dying bed had changed her as never woman changed before. From a bright,
+ambitious, pleasure-loving girl, she had grown into a silent, haggard,
+hopeless woman. All the sunny spring days she sat by the window of her
+boudoir, gazing at the misty, boundless sea, pale and mute&mdash;dead in
+life.</p>
+
+<p>The friends who came to see her, and Mr. Knight, the rector, were a
+little puzzled by this abnormal case, but very sorry for the pale young
+widow, and disposed to think better of her than ever before. It must
+surely have been the vilest slander that she had not cared for her
+husband, that she had married him only for his wealth and title; and
+that young soldier&mdash;that captain of dragoons&mdash;must have been a myth. She
+might have been engaged to him, of course, before Sir Noel came, that
+seemed to be an undisputed fact; and she might have jilted him for a
+wealthier lover, that was all a common case. But she must have loved her
+husband very dearly, or she never would have been broken-hearted like
+this at his loss.</p>
+
+<p>Spring deepened into summer. The June roses in the flower-gardens of the
+Thetford were in rosy bloom, and my lady was ill again&mdash;very, very ill.
+There was an eminent physician down from London, and there was a frail
+little mite of babyhood lying among lace and flannel; and the eminent
+physician shook his head, and looked portentously grave as he glanced
+from the crib to the bed. Whiter than the pillows, whiter than snow,
+Ada, Lady Thetford, lay, hovering in the Valley of the Shadow of Death;
+that other feeble little life seemed flickering, too&mdash;it was so even a
+toss up between the great rival powers, Life and Death, that a straw
+might have turned the scale either way. So slight being that baby-hold
+of gasping breath, that Mr. Knight, in the absence of any higher
+authority, and in the unconsciousness of the mother, took it upon
+himself to baptize it. So a china bowl was brought, and Mrs. Hilliard
+held the bundle of flannel and long white robes, and the child was
+named&mdash;the name which the mother had said weeks ago it was to be called,
+if a boy&mdash;Rupert Noel Vandeleur Thetford; for it was a male heir, and
+the Rev. Horace's cake was dough.</p>
+
+<p>Days went by, weeks, months, and to the surprise of the eminent
+physician neither mother nor child died. Summer waned, winter returned;
+and the anniversary of Sir Noel's death came round, and my lady was able
+to walk down-stairs, shivering in the warm air under all her wraps. She
+had expressed no pleasure or thankfulness in her own safety, or that of
+her child. She had asked eagerly if it were a boy or a girl; and hearing
+its sex, had turned her face to the wall, and lay for hours and hours
+speechless and motionless. Yet it was very dear to her, too, by fits and
+starts as it were. She would hold it in her arms half a day, sometimes
+covering it with kisses, with jealous, passionate love, crying over it,
+and half smothering it with caresses; and then, again, in a fit of
+sullen apathy, would resign it to its nurse, and not ask to see it for
+hours. It was very strange and inexplicable, her conduct, altogether;
+more especially, as with her return to health came no return of
+cheerfulness and hope. The dark gloom that overshadowed her life seemed
+to settle into a chronic disease, rooted and incurable. She never went
+out; she returned no visits; she gave no invitations to those who came
+to repeat theirs. Gradually people fell off; they grew tired of that
+sullen coldness in which Lady Thetford wrapped herself as in a mantle,
+until Mr. Knight and Dr. Gale grew to be almost her only visitors.
+"Mariana, in the Moated Grange," never led a more solitary and dreary
+existence than the handsome young widow, who dwelt a recluse at Thetford
+Towers; for she was very handsome still, of a pale moonlit sort of
+beauty, the great, dark eyes, and abundant dark hair, making her fixed
+and changeless pallor all the more remarkable.</p>
+
+<p>Months and seasons went by. Summers followed winters, and Lady Thetford
+still buried herself alive in the gray old manor&mdash;and the little heir
+was six years old. A delicate child still, puny and sickly, and petted
+and spoiled, and indulged in every childish whim and caprice. His
+mother's image and idol&mdash;no look of the fair-haired, sanguine, blue-eyed
+Thetford sturdiness in his little, pinched, pale face, large, dark eyes,
+and crisp, black ringlets. The years had gone by like a slow dream; life
+was stagnant enough in St. Gosport, doubly stagnant at Thetford Towers,
+whose mistress rarely went abroad beyond her own gates, save when she
+took her little son out for an airing in the pony phaeton.</p>
+
+<p>She had taken him out for one of those airings on a July afternoon, when
+he had nearly accomplished his seventh year. They had driven seaward
+some miles from the manor-house, and Lady Thetford and her little boy
+had got out, and were strolling leisurely up and down the hot, white
+stands, while the groom waited with the pony-phaeton just within sight.</p>
+
+<p>The long July afternoon wore on. The sun that had blazed all day like a
+wheel of fire, dropped lower and lower into the crimson west. The wide
+sea shone red with the reflections of the lurid glory in the heavens,
+and the numberless waves glittered and flashed as if sown with stars. A
+faint, far-off breeze swept over the sea, salt and cold; and the
+fishermen's boats danced along with the red sunset glinting on their
+sails.</p>
+
+<p>Up and down, slowly and thoughtfully, the lady walked, her eyes fixed on
+the wide sea. As the rising breeze met her, she drew the scarlet shawl
+she wore over her black silk dress closer around her, and glanced at her
+boy. The little fellow was running over the sands, tossing pebbles into
+the surf, and hunting for shells; and her eyes left him and wandered
+once more to the lurid splendor of that sunset on the sea. It was very
+quiet here, with no living thing in sight but themselves; so the lady's
+start of astonishment was natural when, turning an abrupt angle in the
+path leading to the shore, she saw a man coming toward her over the
+sands. A tall, powerful-looking man of thirty, bronzed and handsome, and
+with an unmistakably military air, although in plain black clothes. The
+lady took a second look, then stood stock still, and gazed like one in a
+dream. The man approached, lifted his hat, and stood silent and grave
+before her.</p>
+
+<p>"Captain Everard!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Lady Thetford&mdash;after eight years&mdash;Captain Everard again."</p>
+
+<p>The deep, strong voice suited the bronzed, grave face, and both had a
+peculiar power of their own. Lady Thetford, very, very pale, held out
+one fair jeweled hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Captain Everard, I am very glad to see you again."</p>
+
+<p>He bent over the little hand a moment, then dropped it, and stood
+looking at her silent.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were in India," she said, trying to be at ease. "When did
+you return?"</p>
+
+<p>"A month ago. My wife is dead. I, too, am widowed, Lady Thetford."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very sorry to hear it," she said, gravely. "Did she die in India?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; and I have come home with my little daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"Your daughter! Then she left a child?"</p>
+
+<p>"One. It is on her account I have come. The climate killed her mother. I
+had mercy on her daughter, and have brought her home."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry for your wife. Why did she remain in India?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because she preferred death to leaving me. She loved me, Lady
+Thetford!"</p>
+
+<p>His powerful eyes were on her face&mdash;that pale, beautiful face, into
+which the blood came for an instant at his words. She looked at him,
+then away over the darkening sea.</p>
+
+<p>"And you, my lady&mdash;you gained the desire to your heart, wealth, and a
+title? Let me hope they have made you a happy woman."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not happy!"</p>
+
+<p>"No? But you have been&mdash;you were while Sir Noel lived?"</p>
+
+<p>"My husband was very good to me, Captain Everard. His death was the
+greatest misfortune that could have befallen me."</p>
+
+<p>"But you are young, you are free, you are rich, you are beautiful. You
+may wear a coronet next time."</p>
+
+<p>His face and glance were so darkly grave, that the covert sneer was
+almost hidden. But she felt it.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never marry again, Captain Everard."</p>
+
+<p>"Never? You surprise me! Six years&mdash;nay, seven, a widow, and with
+innumerable attractions. Oh, you cannot mean it!"</p>
+
+<p>She made a sudden, passionate gesture&mdash;looked at him, then away.</p>
+
+<p>"It is useless&mdash;worse than useless, folly, madness, to lift the veil
+from the irrevocable past. But don't you think, don't you, Lady
+Thetford, that you might have been equally happy if you had married
+<i>me</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>She made no reply. She stood gazing seaward, cold and still.</p>
+
+<p>"I was madly, insanely, absurdly in love with pretty Ada Vandeleur in
+those days, and I think I would have made her a good husband; better,
+however&mdash;forgive me&mdash;than I ever made my poor dead wife. But you were
+wise and ambitious, my pretty Ada, and bartered your black eyes and
+raven ringlets to a higher bidder. You jilted me in cold blood, poor
+love-sick devil that I was, and reigned resplendent as my Lady Thetford.
+Ah! you knew how to choose the better part, my pretty Ada!"</p>
+
+<p>"Captain Everard, I am sorry for the past&mdash;I have atoned, if suffering
+can atone. Have a little pity, and let me alone!"</p>
+
+<p>He stood and looked at her silently, gravely. Then said, in a voice deep
+and calm:</p>
+
+<p>"We are both free! Will you marry me now, Ada!"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot!"</p>
+
+<p>"But I love you&mdash;I have always loved you. And you&mdash;I used to think you
+loved me!"</p>
+
+<p>He was strangely calm and passionless, voice and glance and face. But
+Lady Thetford had covered <i>her</i> face, and was sobbing.</p>
+
+<p>"I did&mdash;I do&mdash;I always have! But I cannot marry you. I will love you all
+my life; but don't, <i>don't</i> ask me to be your wife!"</p>
+
+<p>"As you please!" he said, in the same passionless voice. "I think it is
+best myself; for the George Everard of to-day is not the George Everard
+who loved you eight years ago. We would not be happy&mdash;I know that. Ada,
+is that your son?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to look at him. Here, my little baronet! I want to see
+you."</p>
+
+<p>The boy, who had been looking curiously at the stranger, ran up at a
+sign from his mother. The tall captain lifted him in his arms and gazed
+in his small, thin face, with which his bright tartan plaid contrasted
+harshly.</p>
+
+<p>"He hasn't a look of the Thetfords. He is your own son, Ada. My little
+baronet, what is your name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Rupert Thetford," answered the child, struggling to get free. "Let
+me go&mdash;I don't know you!"</p>
+
+<p>The captain set him down with a grim smile; and the boy clung to his
+mother's skirts, and eyed the tall stranger askance.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to go home, mamma! I'm tired and hungry."</p>
+
+<p>"Presently, dearest. Run to William, he has cake for you. Captain
+Everard, I shall be happy to have you at dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks; but I must decline. I go back to London to-night. I sail for
+India again in a week."</p>
+
+<p>"So soon! I thought you meant to remain."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing is further from my intentions. I merely brought my little girl
+over to provide her a home; that is why I have troubled <i>you</i>. Will you
+do me this kindness, Lady Thetford?"</p>
+
+<p>"Take your little girl? Oh, most gladly&mdash;most willingly!"</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks! Her mother's people are French, and I know little about them;
+and, save yourself, I can claim friendship with few in England. She will
+be poor; I have settled on her all I am worth&mdash;some three hundred a
+year; and you, Lady Thetford, you can teach her, when she grows up, to
+catch a rich husband."</p>
+
+<p>She took no notice of the taunt; she looked only too happy to render him
+this service.</p>
+
+<p>"I am so pleased! She will be such a nice companion for Rupert. How old
+is she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nearly four."</p>
+
+<p>"Is she here?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; she is in London. I will fetch her down in a day or two."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you call her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mabel&mdash;after her mother. Then it is settled, Lady Thetford, I am to
+fetch her?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be delighted! But won't you dine with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I must catch the evening train. Farewell, Lady Thetford, and many
+thanks! In three days I will be here again."</p>
+
+<p>He lifted his hat and walked away. Lady Thetford watched him out of
+sight, and then turned slowly, as she heard her little boy calling her
+with shrill impatience. The red sunset had faded out; the sea lay gray
+and cold under the twilight sky, and the evening breeze was chill.
+Changes in sky and sea and land told of coming night; and Lady Thetford,
+shivering slightly in the rising wind, hurried away to be driven home.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+<h3>"LITTLE MAY."</h3>
+
+
+<p>On the evening of the third day after this interview, a fly from the
+railway drove up the long, winding avenue leading to the great front
+entrance of the Thetford mansion. A bronzed military gentleman, a nurse
+and a little girl, occupied the fly, and the gentleman's keen, dark eyes
+wandered searchingly around. Swelling meadows, velvety lawns, sloping
+terraces, waving trees, bright flower-gardens, quaint old fish-ponds,
+sparkling fountains, and a wooded park, with sprightly deer&mdash;that was
+what he saw, all bathed in the golden halo of the summer sunset. Massive
+and grand, the old house reared its gray head, half overgrown with ivy
+and climbing roses. Gaudy peacocks strutted on the terraces; a graceful
+gazelle flitted out for an instant amongst the trees to look at them and
+then fled in afright; and the barking of half a dozen mastiffs greeted
+their approach noisily.</p>
+
+<p>"A fine old place," thought Captain Everard. "My pretty Ada might have
+done worse. A grand old place for that puny child to inherit. The
+staunch old warrior-blood of the Thetfords is sadly adulterated in his
+pale veins, I fancy. Well, my little May, and how are you going to like
+all this?"</p>
+
+<p>The child, a bright-faced little creature, with great sparkling eyes and
+rose-bloom cheeks, was looking in delight at a distant terrace.</p>
+
+<p>"See, papa! See all the pretty peacocks! Look, Ellen," to the nurse,
+"three, four, five! Oh, how pretty!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then little May will like to live here, where she can see the pretty
+peacocks every day?"</p>
+
+<p>"And all the pretty flowers, and the water, and the little boy&mdash;where's
+the little boy, papa?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the house&mdash;you'll see him presently; but you must be very good,
+little May, and not pull his hair, and scratch his face, and poke your
+fingers in his eyes, like you used to do with Willie Brandon. Little May
+must learn to be good."</p>
+
+<p>Little May put one rosy finger in her mouth, and set her head on one
+side like a defiant canary. She was one of the prettiest little fairies
+imaginable, with her pale, flaxen curls, and sparkling light-gray eyes,
+and apple-blossom complexion; but she was evidently as much spoiled as
+little Sir Rupert Thetford himself.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford sat in the long drawing-room, after her solitary dinner,
+and little Sir Rupert played with his rocking-horse and a pile of
+picture-books in a remote corner. The young widow lay back in the
+violet-velvet depths of a carved and gilded <i>fauteuil</i>, very simply
+dressed in black and crimson, but looking very fair and stately withal.
+She was watching her boy with a half smile on her face, when a footman
+entered with Captain Everard's card. Lady Thetford looked up eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Show Captain Everard up at once."</p>
+
+<p>The footman bowed and disappeared. Five minutes later, and the tall
+captain and his little daughter stood before her.</p>
+
+<p>"At last!" said Lady Thetford, rising and holding out her hand to her
+old lover, with a smile that reminded him of other days&mdash;"at last, when
+I was growing tired waiting. And this is your little girl&mdash;my little
+girl from henceforth? Come here, my pet, and kiss your new mamma."</p>
+
+<p>She bent over the little one, kissing the pink cheeks and rosy lips.</p>
+
+<p>"She is fair and tiny&mdash;a very fairy; but she resembles you,
+nevertheless, Capt. Everard."</p>
+
+<p>"In temper&mdash;yes," said the captain. "You will find her spoiled, and
+willful, and cross, and capricious and no end of trouble. Won't she,
+May?"</p>
+
+<p>"She will be the better match for Rupert on that account," Lady Thetford
+said, smiling, and unfastening little Miss Everard's wraps with her own
+fair fingers. "Come here, Rupert, and welcome your new sister."</p>
+
+<p>The young baronet approached, and dutifully kissed little May, who put
+up her rose-bud mouth right willingly. Sir Rupert Thetford wasn't tall,
+rather undersized, and delicate for his seven years; but he was head and
+shoulders over the flaxen-haired fairy, with the bright gray eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I want a ride on your rocking-horse," cried little May, fraternizing
+with him at once; "and oh! what nice picture books and what a lot!"</p>
+
+<p>The children ran off together to their distant corner, and Captain
+Everard sat down for the first time.</p>
+
+<p>"You have not dined?" said Lady Thetford. "Allow me to&mdash;&mdash;" her hand was
+on the bell, but the captain interposed.</p>
+
+<p>"Many thanks&mdash;nothing. We dined at the village; and I leave again by the
+seven-fifty train. It is past seven now, so I have but little time to
+spare. I fear I am putting you to a great deal of trouble; but May's
+nurse insists on being taken back to London to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"It will be of no consequence," replied Lady Thetford, "Rupert's nurse
+will take charge of her. I intend to advertise for a nursery governess
+in a few days. Rupert's health has always been so extremely delicate,
+that he has not even began a pretext of learning yet, and it is quite
+time. He grows stronger, I fancy; but Dr. Gale tells me frankly his
+constitution is dangerously weak."</p>
+
+<p>She sighed as she spoke, and looked over to where he stood beside little
+May, who had mounted the rocking-horse boy-fashion. Sir Rupert was
+expostulating.</p>
+
+<p>"You oughtn't to sit that way&mdash;ask mamma. You ought to sit side-saddle.
+Only boys sit like that."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care!" retorted Miss Everard, rocking more violently than ever.
+"I'll sit whatever way I like! Let me alone!"</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford looked at the captain with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Her father's daughter, surely! bent on having her own way. What a fairy
+it is! and yet such a perfect picture of health."</p>
+
+<p>"Mabel was never ill an hour in her life, I believe," said her father;
+"she is not at all too good for this world. I only hope she may not grow
+up the torment of your life&mdash;she is thoroughly spoiled."</p>
+
+<p>"And I fear if she were not, I should do it. Ah! I expect she will be a
+great comfort to me, and a world of good to Rupert. He has never had a
+playmate of his own years, and children need children as much as they
+need sunshine."</p>
+
+<p>They sat for ten minutes conversing gravely, chiefly on business matters
+connected with little May's annuity&mdash;not at all as they had conversed
+three days before by the seaside. Then, as half-past seven drew near,
+the captain arose.</p>
+
+<p>"I must go; I will hardly be in time as it is. Come here, little May,
+and bid papa good-bye."</p>
+
+<p>"Let papa come to May," responded his daughter, still rocking. "I can't
+get off."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Everard laughed, went over, bent down and kissed her.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, May; don't forget papa, and learn to be a good girl. Good
+bye, baronet; try and grow strong and tall. Farewell, Lady Thetford,
+with my best thanks."</p>
+
+<p>She held his hand, looking up in his sun-burned face with tears in her
+dark eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"We may never meet again, Captain Everard," she said hurriedly. "Tell me
+before we part that you forgive me the past."</p>
+
+<p>"Truly, Ada, and for the first time. The service you have rendered me
+fully atones. You should have been my child's mother&mdash;be a mother to her
+now. Good-bye, and God bless you and your boy!"</p>
+
+<p>He stooped over, touched her cheek with his lips reverentially, and then
+was gone. Gone forever&mdash;never to meet those he left behind this side of
+eternity.</p>
+
+<p>Little May bore the loss of papa and nurse with philosophical
+indifference&mdash;her new playmate sufficed for both. The children took to
+one another with the readiness of childhood&mdash;Rupert all the more readily
+that he had never before had a playmate of his own years. He was
+naturally a quiet child, caring more for his picture-books and his
+nurse's stories than for tops, or balls, or marbles. But little May
+Everard seemed from the first to inspire him with some of her own
+superabundant vitality and life. The child was never, for a single
+instant, quiet; she was the most restless, the most impetuous, the most
+vigorous little creature that can be conceived. Feet and tongue and
+hands never were still from morning till night; and the life of Sir
+Rupert's nurse, hitherto one of idle ease, became all at once a misery
+to her. The little girl was everywhere&mdash;everywhere; especially where she
+had no business to be; and nurse never knew an easy moment for trotting
+after her, and rescuing her from all sorts of perils. She could climb
+like a cat, or a goat, and risked her neck about twenty times per diem;
+she sailed her shoes in the soup when let in as a treat to dinner, and
+washed her hands in her milk-and-water. She became the intimate friend
+of the pretty peacocks and the big, good-tempered dogs, with whom, in
+utter fearlessness, she rolled about in the grass half the day. She
+broke young Rupert's toys, and tore his picture-books and slapped his
+face, and pulled his hair, and made herself master of the situation
+before she had been twenty-four hours in the house. She was thoroughly
+and completely spoiled. What India nurses had left undone, injudicious
+petting and flattery on the homeward passage had completed&mdash;and her
+temper was something appalling. Her shrieks of passion at the slightest
+contradiction of her imperial will rang through the house, and rent the
+tortured tympanums of all who heard. The little Xantippe would fling
+herself flat on the carpet, and literally scream herself black in the
+face, until, in dread of apoplexy and sudden death, her frightened
+hearers hastened to yield. Of course, one such victory insured all the
+rest. As for Sir Rupert, before she had been a week at Thetford Towers,
+he dared not call his soul his own. She had partly scalped him on
+several occasions, and left the mark of her cat-like nails in his tender
+visage: but her venomous power of screeching for hours at will had more
+to do with the little baronet's dread of her than anything else. He fled
+ingloriously in every battle&mdash;running in tears to mamma, and leaving the
+field and the trophies of victory triumphantly to Miss Everard. With all
+this, when not thwarted&mdash;when allowed to smash toys, and dirty her
+clothes, and smear her infantile face, and tear pictures, and torment
+inoffensive lapdogs; when allowed, in short, to follow "her own sweet
+will," little May was as charming a fairy as ever the sun shone on. Her
+gleeful laugh made music in the dreary old rooms, such as had never been
+heard there for many a day, and her mischievous antics were the delight
+of all who did not suffer thereby. The servants petted and indulged her,
+and fed her on unwholesome cakes and sweetmeats, and made her worse and
+worse every day of her life.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford saw all this with inward apprehension. If her ward was
+completely beyond her power of control at four, what would she be a
+dozen years hence?</p>
+
+<p>"Her father was right," thought the lady. "I am afraid she <i>will</i> give
+me a great deal of trouble. I never saw so headstrong, so utterly
+unmanageable a child."</p>
+
+<p>But Lady Thetford was very fond of the fairy despot withal. When her son
+came running to her for succor, drowned in tears, his mother took him in
+her arms and kissed him and soothed him&mdash;but she never punished the
+offender. As for Sir Rupert, he might fly ignominiously, but he never
+fought back. Little May had all the hair-pulling and face-scratching to
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>"I must get a governess," mused Lady Thetford. "I may find one who can
+control this little vixen; and it is really time Rupert began his
+studies. I shall speak to Mr. Knight about it."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford sent that very day to the rectory her ladyship's
+compliments, the servant said, and would Mr. Knight call at his earliest
+convenience. Mr. Knight sent in answer to expect him that same evening;
+and on his way he fell in with Dr. Gale, going to the manor-house on a
+professional visit.</p>
+
+<p>"Little Sir Rupert keeps weakly," he said; "no constitution to speak of.
+Not at all like the Thetfords&mdash;splendid old stock, the Thetfords, but
+run out&mdash;run out. Sir Rupert is a Vandeleur, inherits his mother's
+constitution&mdash;delicate child, very."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you seen Lady Thetford's ward!" inquired the clergyman, smiling;
+"no hereditary weakness there, I fancy. I'll answer for the strength of
+her lungs, at any rate. The other day she wanted Lady Thetford's watch
+for a plaything; she couldn't have it, and down she fell flat on the
+floor in what her nurse calls 'one of her tantrums.' You should have
+heard her, her shrieks were appalling."</p>
+
+<p>"I have," said the doctor, with emphasis; "she has the temper of the old
+demon. If I had anything to do with that child, I should whip her within
+an inch of her life&mdash;that's all she wants, lots of whipping! The Lord
+only knows the future, but I pity her prospective husband!"</p>
+
+<p>"The taming of the shrew," laughed Mr. Knight. "Katherine and Petruchio
+over again. For my part, I think Lady Thetford was unwise to undertake
+such a charge. With her delicate health it is altogether too much for
+her."</p>
+
+<p>The two gentlemen were shown into the library, whilst the servant went
+to inform his lady of their arrival. The library had a French window
+opening on a sloping lawn, and here chasing butterflies in high glee,
+were the two children&mdash;the pale, dark-eyed baronet, and the
+flaxen-tressed little East Indian.</p>
+
+<p>"Look," said Dr. Gale. "Is Sir Rupert going to be your Petruchio? Who
+knows what the future may bring forth&mdash;who knows that we do not behold a
+future Lady Thetford?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is very pretty," said the rector thoughtfully, "and she may change
+with years. Your prophecy may be fulfilled."</p>
+
+<p>The present Lady Thetford entered as he spoke. She had heard the remarks
+of both, and there was an unusual pallor and gravity in her face as she
+advanced to receive them.</p>
+
+<p>Little Sir Rupert was called in, and May followed, with a butterfly
+crushed to death in each fat little hand.</p>
+
+<p>"She kills them as fast as she catches them," said Sir Rupert, ruefully.
+"It's cruel, isn't it, mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>Little May, quite unabashed, displayed her dead prizes, and cut short
+the doctor's conference by impatiently pulling her play-fellow away.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Rupert, come," she cried. "I want to catch the black one with the
+yellow wings. Stick your tongue out and come."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Rupert displayed his tongue, and submitted his pulse to the doctor,
+and let himself be pulled away by May.</p>
+
+<p>"The gray mare in that span is decidedly the better horse," laughed the
+doctor. "What a little despot in pinafores it is."</p>
+
+<p>When her visitors had left, Lady Thetford walked to the window and stood
+watching the two children racing in the sunshine. It was a pretty sight,
+but the lady's face was contracted with pain.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," she thought. "I hope not&mdash;I pray not. Strange! but I never
+thought of the possibility before. She will be poor, and Rupert must
+marry a rich wife, so that if&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She paused, with a sort of shudder, then added:</p>
+
+<p>"What will he think, my darling boy, of his father and mother if that
+day ever comes?"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+<h3>MRS. WEYMORE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Lady Thetford had settled her business satisfactorily with the rector of
+St Gosport.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing could be more opportune," he said. "I am going to London next
+week on business which will detain me upward of a fortnight. I will
+immediately advertise for such a person as you want."</p>
+
+<p>"You must understand," said her ladyship, "I do not require a young
+girl. I wish a middle-aged person&mdash;a widow, for instance, who has had
+children of her own. Both Rupert and May are spoiled&mdash;May particularly
+is perfectly unmanageable. A young girl as governess for her would never
+do."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Knight departed with these instructions and the following week
+started for the great metropolis. An advertisement was at once inserted
+in the <i>Times</i> newspaper, stating all Lady Thetford's requirements, and
+desiring immediate application. Another week later, and Lady Thetford
+received the following communication:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Lady Thetford</span>&mdash;I have been fairly besieged with
+applications for the past week&mdash;all widows, and all professing
+to be thoroughly competent. Clergyman's widows, doctors'
+widows, officers' widows&mdash;all sorts of widows. I never before
+thought so many could apply for one situation. I have chosen
+one in sheer desperation&mdash;the widow of a country gentleman in
+distressed circumstances, who, I think, will suit. She is
+eminently respectable in appearance, quiet and lady-like in
+manner, with five years' experience in the nursery-governess
+line, and the highest recommendation from her late employers.
+She has lost a child, she tells me, and from her looks and
+manner altogether, I should judge she was a person conversant
+with misfortune. She will return with me early next week&mdash;her
+name is Mrs. Weymore."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford read this letter with a little sigh of relief&mdash;some one
+else would have the temper and outbreaks of little May to contend with
+now. She wrote to Captain Everard that same day, to announce his
+daughter's well-being, and inform him that she had found a suitable
+governess to take charge of her.</p>
+
+<p>The second day of the ensuing week the rector and the new governess
+arrived. A fly from the railway brought her and her luggage to Thetford
+Towers late in the afternoon, and she was taken at once to the room that
+had been prepared for her, whilst the servant went to inform Lady
+Thetford of her arrival.</p>
+
+<p>"Fetch her here at once," said her ladyship, who was alone, as usual, in
+the long drawing-room with the children, "I wish to see her."</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes after the drawing-room door was flung open, and "Mrs.
+Weymore, my lady," announced the footman.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford arose to receive her new dependent, who bowed and stood
+before her with a somewhat fluttered and embarrassed air. She was quite
+young, not older than my lady herself, and eminently good-looking. The
+tall, slender figure, clad in widow's weeds, was as symmetrical as Lady
+Thetford's own, and the full black dress set off the pearly fairness of
+the blonde skin, and the rich abundance of fair hair. Lady Thetford's
+brows contracted a little; her fair, subdued, gentle-looking, girlish
+young woman, was hardly the strong-minded, middle-aged matron she had
+expected to take the nonsense out of obstreperous May Everard.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Weymore, I believe," said Lady Thetford, resuming her
+<i>fauteuil</i>, "pray be seated. I wished to see you at once, because
+I am going out this evening. You have had five years' experience as a
+nursery-governess, Mr. Knight tells me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my lady."</p>
+
+<p>There was a little tremor in Mrs. Weymore's low voice, and her blue eyes
+shifted and fell under Lady Thetford's steady and somewhat haughty gaze.</p>
+
+<p>"Yet you look young&mdash;much younger than I imagined, or wished."</p>
+
+<p>"I am twenty-seven years old, my lady."</p>
+
+<p>That was my lady's own age precisely, but she looked half a dozen years
+the elder of the two.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you a native of London?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, my lady, of Berkshire."</p>
+
+<p>"And you have been a widow, how long?"</p>
+
+<p>What ailed Mrs. Weymore? She was all white and trembling&mdash;even her
+hands, folded and pressed together in her lap, shook in spite of her.</p>
+
+<p>"Eight years and more."</p>
+
+<p>She said it with a sort of sob, hysterically choked. Lady Thetford
+looked on surprised, and a trifle displeased. She was a very proud
+woman, and certainly wished for no scene with her hired dependents.</p>
+
+<p>"Eight years is a tolerable time," she said, coolly. "You have lost
+children?"</p>
+
+<p>"One, my lady."</p>
+
+<p>Again that choked, hysterical sob. My lady vent on pitilessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it long ago?"</p>
+
+<p>"When&mdash;when I lost its father?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! both together? That was rather hard. Well, I hope you understand
+the management of children&mdash;spoiled ones particularly. Here are the two
+you are to take charge of. Rupert&mdash;May come here."</p>
+
+<p>The children came over from their corner. Mrs. Weymore drew May toward
+her, but Sir Rupert held aloof.</p>
+
+<p>"This is my ward&mdash;this is my son. I presume Mr. Knight has told you. If
+you can subdue the temper of that child, you will prove yourself,
+indeed, a treasure. The east parlor has been fitted up for your use; the
+children will take their meals there with you; the room adjoining is to
+be the school-room. I have appointed one of the maids to wait on you. I
+trust you will find your chamber comfortable."</p>
+
+<p>"Exceedingly so, my lady."</p>
+
+<p>"And the terms proposed by Mr. Knight suit you?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Weymore bowed. Lady Thetford rose to close the interview.</p>
+
+<p>"You must need refreshment and rest after your journey. I will not
+detain you longer. To-morrow your duties will commence."</p>
+
+<p>She rang the bell&mdash;directed the servant who came to show the governess
+to the east parlor and see to her wants, and then to send nurse for the
+children. Fifteen minutes after she drove away in the pony-phaeton,
+whilst the new governess stood by the window of the east parlor and
+watched her vanish in the amber haze of the August sunset.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford's business in St. Gosport detained her a couple of hours.
+The big, white, August moon was rising as she drove slowly homeward, and
+the nightingales sang its vesper lay in the scented hedge-rows. As she
+passed the rectory she saw Mr. Knight leaning over his own gate enjoying
+the placid beauty of the summer evening, and Lady Thetford reined in her
+ponies to speak to him.</p>
+
+<p>"So happy to see your ladyship! Won't you alight and come in? Mrs.
+Knight will be delighted."</p>
+
+<p>"Not this evening, I think. Had you much trouble about my business?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had applicants enough, certainly," laughed the rector. "I had reason
+to remember Mr. Weller's immortal advice, 'Beware of widders.' How do
+you like your governess?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have hardly had time to form an opinion. She is younger than I could
+desire."</p>
+
+<p>"She looks much younger than the age she gives, I know; but that is a
+common case. I trust my choice will prove satisfactory&mdash;her references
+are excellent. Your ladyship has had an interview with her?"</p>
+
+<p>"A very brief one. Her manner struck me unpleasantly&mdash;so odd, and shy,
+and nervous. I hardly know how to characterize it; but she may be a
+paragon of governesses, for all that. Good evening; best regards to Mrs.
+Knight. Call soon and see how your <i>protégé</i> gets on."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford drove away. As she alighted from the pony-carriage and
+ascended the great front steps of the house, she saw the pale governess
+still seated at the window of the east parlor, gazing dejectedly out at
+the silvery moonlight.</p>
+
+<p>"A most woeful countenance," thought my lady. "There is some deeper
+grief than the loss of a husband and child eight years ago, the matter
+with that woman. I don't like her."</p>
+
+<p>No, Lady Thetford did not like the meek and submissive looking
+governess, but the children and the rest of the household did. Sir
+Rupert and little May took to her at once&mdash;her gentle voice, her tender
+smile seemed to win its way to their capricious favor; and before the
+end of the first week she had more influence over them than mother and
+nurse together. The subdued and gentle governess soon had the love of
+all at Thetford Towers, except its mistress, from Mrs. Hilliard, the
+stately housekeeper, down. She was courteous and considerate, so anxious
+to avoid giving trouble. Above all, that fixed expression of hopeless
+trouble on her sad, pale face, made its way to every heart. She had full
+charge of the children now; they took their meals with her, and she had
+them in her keeping the best part of the day&mdash;an office that was no
+sinecure. When they were with their nurse, or my lady, the governess sat
+alone in the east parlor, looking out dreamily at the summer landscape,
+with her own brooding thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>One evening when she had been at Thetford Towers over a fortnight, Mrs.
+Hilliard, coming in, found her sitting dreamily by herself neither
+reading nor working. The children were in the drawing-room, and her
+duties were over for the day.</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid you don't make yourself at home here," said the
+good-natured housekeeper; "you stay too much alone, and it isn't good
+for young people like you."</p>
+
+<p>"I am used to solitude," replied the governess with a smile, that ended
+in a sigh, "and I have grown to like it. Will you take a seat?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mrs. Hilliard. "I heard you say the other day you would like
+to go over the house; so, as I have a couple of hours leisure, I will
+show it to you now."</p>
+
+<p>The governess rose eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been wanting to see it so much," she said, "but I feared to give
+trouble by asking. It is very good of you to think of me, dear Mrs.
+Hilliard."</p>
+
+<p>"She isn't much used to people thinking of her," reflected the
+housekeeper, "or she wouldn't be so grateful for trifles. Let me see,"
+aloud, "you have seen the drawing-room and library, and that is all,
+except your own apartments. Well, come this way, I'll show you the old
+south wing."</p>
+
+<p>Through the long corridors, up wide, black, slippery staircases, into
+vast, unused rooms, where ghostly echoes and darkness had it all to
+themselves, Mrs. Hilliard led the governess.</p>
+
+<p>"These apartments have been unused since before the late Sir Noel's
+time," said Mrs. Hilliard; "his father kept them full in the hunting
+season, and at Christmas time. Since Sir Noel's death, my lady has shut
+herself up and received no company, and gone nowhere. She is beginning
+to go out more of late than she has done ever since his death."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Hilliard was not looking at the governess, or she might have been
+surprised at the nervous restlessness and agitation of her manner, as
+she listened to these very commonplace remarks.</p>
+
+<p>"Lady Thetford was very much attached to her husband, then?" Mrs.
+Weymore said, her voice tremulous.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! that she was! She must have been, for his death nearly killed her.
+It was sudden enough, and shocking enough, goodness knows! I shall never
+forget that dreadful night. This is the old banqueting-hall, Mrs.
+Weymore, the largest and dreariest room in the house."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Weymore, trembling very much, either with cold or that
+unaccountable nervousness of hers, hardly looked round at the vast
+wilderness of a room.</p>
+
+<p>"You were with the late Sir Noel, then, when he died?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, until my lady came. Ah! it was a dreadful thing! He had taken her
+to a ball, and riding home his horse threw him. We sent for the doctor
+and my lady at once; and when she came, all white and scared like, he
+sent us out of the room. He was as calm and sensible as you or me, but
+he seemed to have something on his mind. My lady was shut up with him
+for about three hours, and then we went in&mdash;Dr. Gale and me. I shall
+never forget that sad sight. Poor Sir Noel was dead, and she was
+kneeling beside him in her ball dress, like somebody turned to stone. I
+spoke to her, and she looked up at me, and then fell back in my arms in
+a fainting fit. Are you cold, Mrs. Weymore, that you shake so?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;yes&mdash;it is this desolate room, I think," the governess answered,
+hardly able to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"It <i>is</i> desolate. Come, I'll show you the billiard-room, and then we'll
+go up-stairs to the room Sir Noel died in. Everything remains just as it
+was&mdash;no one has ever slept there since. If you only knew, Mrs. Weymore,
+what a sad time it was; but you do know, poor dear! you have lost a
+husband yourself!"</p>
+
+<p>The governess flung up her hands before her face with a suppressed cry
+so full of anguish that the housekeeper stared at her aghast. Almost as
+quickly she recovered herself again.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't mind me," she said, in a choking voice, "I can't help it. You
+don't know what I suffered&mdash;what I still suffer. Oh, pray, don't mind
+me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not my dear," said Mrs. Hilliard, thinking inwardly the
+governess was a very odd person, indeed.</p>
+
+<p>They looked at the billiard-room, where the tables stood, dusty and
+disused, and the balls lay idly by.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know when it will be used again," said Mrs. Hilliard; "perhaps
+not until Sir Rupert grows up. There was a time," lowering her voice,
+"that I thought he would never live to be as old and strong as he is
+now. He was the puniest baby, Mrs. Weymore, you ever looked at&mdash;nobody
+thought he would live. And that would have been a pity, you know; for
+then the Thetford estate would have gone to a distant branch of the
+family, as it would, too, if Sir Rupert had been a little girl."</p>
+
+<p>She went on up-stairs to the inhabited part of the building, followed by
+Mrs. Weymore, who seemed to grow more and more agitated with every word
+the housekeeper said.</p>
+
+<p>"This is Sir Noel's room," said Mrs. Hilliard, in an awe-struck whisper,
+as if the dead man still lay there; "no one ever enters here but me."</p>
+
+<p>She unlocked it as she spoke, and went in. Mrs. Weymore followed, with a
+face of frightened pallor that struck even the housekeeper.</p>
+
+<p>"Good gracious me! Mrs. Weymore, what is the matter? You are as pale as
+a ghost. Are you afraid to enter a room where a person has died?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Weymore's reply was almost inaudible; she stood on the threshold,
+pallid, trembling, unaccountably moved. The housekeeper glanced at her
+suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>"Very odd," she thought, "very! The new governess is either the most
+nervous person I ever met, or else&mdash;no, she can't have known Sir Noel in
+his lifetime. Of course not."</p>
+
+<p>They left the chamber after a cursory glance around&mdash;Mrs. Weymore never
+advancing beyond the threshold. She had not spoken, and that white
+pallor made her face ghastly still.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll show you the picture-gallery," said Mrs. Hilliard; "and then, I
+believe, you will have seen all that is worth seeing at Thetford
+Towers."</p>
+
+<p>She led the way to a long, high-lighted room, wainscoted and antique,
+like all the rest, where long rows of dead and gone Thetfords looked
+down from the carved walls. There were knights in armor, countesses in
+ruffles and powder and lace, bishops in mitre on head and crozier in
+hand, and judges in gown and wig. There were ladies in pointed
+stomachers and jeweled fans, with the waists of their dresses under
+their arms, but all fair and handsome, and unmistakably alike. Last of
+all the long array, there was Sir Noel, a fair-haired, handsome youth of
+twenty, with a smile on his face and a happy radiance in his blue eyes.
+And by his side, dark and haughty and beautiful, was my lady in her
+bridal-robes.</p>
+
+<p>"There is not a handsomer face amongst them all than my lady's," said
+Mrs. Hilliard, with pride. "You ought to have seen her when Sir Noel
+first brought her home; she was the most beautiful creature I ever
+looked at. Ah! it was such a pity he was killed. I suppose they'll be
+having Sir Rupert's taken next and hung beside her. He don't look much
+like the Thetfords; he's his mother over again&mdash;a Vandeleur, dark and
+still."</p>
+
+<p>If Mrs. Weymore made any reply the housekeeper did not catch it; she was
+standing with her face averted, hardly looking at the portraits, and was
+the first to leave the picture-gallery.</p>
+
+<p>There were a few more rooms to be seen&mdash;a drawing-room suite, now closed
+and disused; an ancient library, with a wonderful stained window, and a
+vast echoing reception-room. But it was all over at last, and Mrs.
+Hilliard, with her keys, trotted cheerfully off; and Mrs. Weymore was
+left to solitude and her own thoughts once more.</p>
+
+<p>A strange person, certainly. She locked the door and fell down on her
+knees by the bedside, sobbing until her whole form was convulsed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! why did I come here? Why did I come here?" came passionately with
+the wild storm of sobs. "I might have known how it would be! Nearly nine
+years&mdash;nine lone, long years, and not to have forgotten yet!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+<h3>A JOURNEY TO LONDON.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Very slowly, very monotonously went life at Thetford Towers. The only
+noticable change and that my lady went rather more into society, and a
+greater number of visitors came to the manor. There had been a
+children's party on the occasion of Sir Rupert's eighth birthday, and
+Mrs. Weymore had played for the little people to dance; and my lady had
+cast off her chronic gloom, had been handsome and happy as of old. There
+had been a dinner-party later&mdash;an imprecedented event now at Thetford
+Towers; and the weeds, worn so long, had been discarded, and in diamonds
+and black velvet Lady Ada Thetford had been beautiful, and stately, and
+gracious, as a young queen. No one knew the reason of the sudden change,
+but they accepted the fact just as they found it, and set it down,
+perhaps, to woman's caprice.</p>
+
+<p>So slowly the summer passed: autumn came and went, and it was December,
+and the ninth anniversary of Sir Noel's death.</p>
+
+<p>A gloomy day&mdash;wet, and wild, and windy. The wind, sweeping over the
+angry sea, surged and roared through the skeleton trees; the rain lashed
+the windows in rattling gusts; and the leaden sky hung low and frowning
+over the drenched and dreary earth. A dismal day&mdash;very like that other,
+nine years ago, that had been Sir Noel's last.</p>
+
+<p>In Lady Thetford's boudoir a bright-red coal fire blazed. Pale-blue
+curtains of satin damask shut out the wintry prospect, and the softest
+and richest of foreign carpets hushed every footfall. Before the fire,
+on a little table, my lady's breakfast temptingly stood; the silver, old
+and quaint; the rare antique porcelain sparkling in the ruddy firelight.
+An easy chair, carved and gilded, and cushioned in azure velvet, stood
+by the table; and near my lady's plate lay the letters and papers the
+morning's mail had brought.</p>
+
+<p>A toy of a clock on the low marble mantle chimed musically ten as my
+lady entered. In her dainty morning negligée, with her dark hair
+rippling and falling low on her neck, she looked very young, and fair,
+and graceful. Behind her came her maid, a blooming English girl, who
+took off the cover and poured out my lady's chocolate.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford sank languidly into the azure velvet depths of her
+<i>fautenuil</i>, and took up her letters. There were three&mdash;one a note from
+her man of business; one an invitation to a dinner-party; and the third,
+a big official-looking document, with a huge seal, and no end of
+postmarks. The languid eyes suddenly lighted; the pale cheeks flushed as
+she took it eagerly up. It was a letter from India from Capt. Everard.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford sipped her chocolate, and read her letter leisurely, with
+her slippered feet on the shining fender. It was a long letter, and she
+read it over slowly twice, three times, before she laid it down. She
+finished her breakfast, motioned her maid to remove the service, and
+lying back in her chair, with her deep, dark eyes fixed dreamily on the
+fire, she fell into a reverie of other days far gone. The lover of her
+girlhood came back to her from over the sea. He was lying at her feet
+once more in the long summer days, under the waving trees of her
+girlhood's home. Ah, how happy! how happy she had been in those by-gone
+days, before Sir Noel Thetford had come, with his wealth and his title,
+to tempt her from her love and truth.</p>
+
+<p>Eleven struck, twelve from the musical clock on the mantle, and still my
+lady sat living in the past. Outside the wintry storm raged on; the rain
+clamored against the curtained glass, and the wind worried the trees.
+With a long sigh my lady awoke from her dream, and mechanically took up
+the <i>Times</i> newspaper&mdash;the first of the little heap.</p>
+
+<p>"Vain! vain!" she thought, dreamily; "worse than vain those dreams now.
+With my own hand I threw back the heart that loved me; of my own free
+will I resigned the man I loved. And now the old love, that I thought
+would die in the splendor of my new life, is stronger than ever&mdash;and it
+is nine years too late."</p>
+
+<p>She tried to wrench her thoughts away and fix them on her newspaper. In
+vain! her eyes wandered aimlessly over the closely-printed columns&mdash;her
+mind was in India with Capt. Everard. All at once she started, uttered a
+sudden, sharp cry, and grasped the paper with dilated eyes and whitening
+cheeks. At the top of a column of "personal" advertisements was one
+which her strained eyes literally devoured.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"If Mr. Vyking, who ten years ago left a male infant in charge
+of Mrs. Martha Brand, wishes to keep that child out of the
+work-house, he will call, within the next five days, at No. 17
+Wadington Street, Lambeth."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Again and again, and again Lady Thetford read this apparently
+uninteresting advertisement. Slowly the paper dropped into her lap, and
+she sat staring blankly into the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"At last!" she thought, "at last it has come. I fancied all danger was
+over&mdash;the death, perhaps, had forestalled me; and now, after all these
+years, I am summoned to keep my broken promise!"</p>
+
+<p>The hue of death had settled on her face; she sat cold and rigid,
+staring with that blank, fixed gaze into the fire. Ceaselessly beat the
+rain; wilder grew the December day; steadily the moments wore on, and
+still she sat in that fixed trance. The armula clock struck two&mdash;the
+sound aroused her at last.</p>
+
+<p>"I must!" she said, setting her teeth. "I will! My boy shall not lose
+his birthright, come what may!"</p>
+
+<p>She rose and rang the bell&mdash;very pale, but icily calm. Her maid answered
+the summons.</p>
+
+<p>"Eliza," my lady asked, "at what hour does the afternoon train leave St.
+Gosport for London!"</p>
+
+<p>Eliza stared&mdash;did not know, but would ascertain. In five minutes she was
+back.</p>
+
+<p>"At half-past three, my lady; and another at seven."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford glanced at the clock&mdash;it was a quarter past two.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell William to have the carriage at the door at a quarter past three;
+and do you pack my dressing case, and the few things I shall need for
+two or three days' absence. I am going to London."</p>
+
+<p>Eliza stood for a moment quite petrified. In all the nine years of her
+service under my lady, no such order as this had ever been received. To
+go to London at a moment's notice&mdash;my lady, who rarely went beyond her
+own park gates! Turning away, not quite certain that her ears had not
+deceived her, my lady's voice arrested her.</p>
+
+<p>"Send Mrs. Weymore to me; and do you lose no time in packing up."</p>
+
+<p>Eliza departed. Mrs. Weymore appeared. My lady had some instructions to
+give concerning the children during her absence. Then the governess was
+dismissed, and she was again alone.</p>
+
+<p>Through the wind and rain of the wintry storm, Lady Thetford was driven
+to the station, in time to catch the three-fifty train to the
+metropolis. She went unattended; with no message to any one, only saying
+she would be back in three days at the furthest.</p>
+
+<p>In that dull household, where so few events ever disturbed the stagnant
+quiet, this sudden journey produced an indescribable sensation. What
+could have taken my lady to London at a moment's notice? Some urgent
+reason it must have been to force her out of the gloomy seclusion in
+which she had buried herself since her husband's death. But, discuss it
+as they might, they could come no nearer the heart of the mystery.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+<h3>GUY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The rainy December day closed in a rainier night. Another day dawned on
+the world, sunless, and chilly, and overcast still.</p>
+
+<p>It dawned on London in murky, yellow fog, on sloppy, muddy streets&mdash;in
+gloom and dreariness, and a raw, easterly wind. In the densely populated
+streets of the district of Lambeth, where poverty huddled in tall, gaunt
+buildings, the dismal light stole murkily and slowly over the crowded,
+filthy streets and swarming purlieus.</p>
+
+<p>In a small upper room of a large dilapidated house, this bad December
+morning, a painter stood at his easel. The room was bare and cold, and
+comfortless in the extreme; the painter was middle-aged, small, brown
+and shriveled, and very much out at elbows. The dull, gray light fell
+full on his work&mdash;no inspiration of genius by any means&mdash;only the
+portrait, coarsely colored, of a fat, well-to-do butcher's daughter
+round the corner. The man was Joseph Legard, scene-painter to one of the
+minor city theatres, who eked out his slender income by painting
+portraits when he could get them to paint. He was as fond of his art as
+any of the great, old masters; but he had only one attribute in common
+with those immortals&mdash;extreme poverty; for his salary was not large, and
+Mr. Legard found it a tight fit, indeed, to "make both ends meet."</p>
+
+<p>So he stood over his work this dull morning, however, in his fireless
+room, with a cheerful, brown face, whistling a tune. In the adjoining
+room he could hear his wife's voice raised shrilly, and the cries of
+half a dozen Legards. He was used to it, and it did not disturb him; and
+he painted and whistled cheerily, touching up the butcher's daughter's
+snub nose and fat cheeks and double chin, until light footsteps came
+running up-stairs, and the door was flung wide by an impetuous hand. A
+boy of ten, or thereabouts, came in&mdash;a bright-eyed, fair-haired lad,
+with a handsome, resolute face, and eyes of cloudless, Saxon blue.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Guy!" said the scene-painter, turning round and nodding
+good-humoredly. "I've been expecting you! What do you think of Miss
+Jenkins?"</p>
+
+<p>The boy looked at the picture with the glance of an embryo connoisseur.</p>
+
+<p>"It's as like her as two peas, Joe; or would be, if her hair was a
+little redder, and her nose a little thicker, and the freckles were
+plainer. But it looks like her as it is."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you see, Guy," said the painter, going on with Miss Jenkins's
+left eyebrow, "it don't do to make 'em too true&mdash;people don't like it;
+they pay their money, and they expect to take it out in good looks. And
+now, any news this morning, Guy?"</p>
+
+<p>The boy leaned against the window and looked out into the dingy street,
+his bright, young face growing gloomy and overcast.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said, moodily; "there is no news, except that Phil Darking was
+drunk last night, and savage as a mad dog this morning&mdash;and that's no
+news, I'm sure!"</p>
+
+<p>"And nobody's come about the advertisement in the <i>Times</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, and never will. It's all humbug what granny says about my belonging
+to anybody rich; if I did, they'd have seen after me long ago. Phil says
+my mother was a house-maid, and my father a valet&mdash;and they were only
+too glad to get me off their hands. Vyking was a valet, granny says she
+knows; and it's not likely he'll turn up after all these years. I don't
+care, I'd rather go to the work-house; I'd rather starve in the streets,
+than live another week with Phil Darking."</p>
+
+<p>The blue eyes filled with tears, and he dashed them passionately away.
+The painter looked up with a distressed face.</p>
+
+<p>"Has he been beating you again, Guy?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's no matter&mdash;he's a brute! Granny and Ellen are sorry, and do what
+they can; but that's nothing. I wish I had never been born!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is hard," said the painter, compassionately, "but keep up heart,
+Guy; if the worst comes, why you can stop here and take pot-luck with
+the rest&mdash;not that that's much better than starvation. You can take to
+my business shortly, now; and you'll make a better scene-painter than
+ever I could. You've got it in you."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you really think so, Joe?" cried the boy, with sparkling eyes. "Do
+you? I'd rather be an artist than a king&mdash;&mdash;Halloo!"</p>
+
+<p>He stopped short in surprise, staring out of the window. Legard looked.
+Up the dirty street came a handsome cab, and stopped at their own door.
+The driver alighted, made some inquiry, then opened the cab-door, and a
+lady stepped lightly out on the curb-stone&mdash;a lady, tall and stately,
+dressed in black and closely veiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, who can this visitor be for?" said Legard. "People in this
+neighborhood ain't in the habit of having morning calls made on them in
+cabs. She's coming up-stairs!"</p>
+
+<p>He held the door open, listening. The lady ascended the first flight of
+stairs, stopped on the landing, and inquired of some one for "Mrs.
+Martha Brand."</p>
+
+<p>"For granny!" exclaimed the boy. "Joe, I shouldn't wonder if it was some
+one about that advertisement, after all!"</p>
+
+<p>"Neither should I," said Legard. "There! she's gone in. You'll be sent
+for directly, Guy!"</p>
+
+<p>Yes, the lady had gone in. She had encountered on the landing a sickly
+young woman with a baby in her arms, who had stared at the name she
+inquired for.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Martha Brand? Why, that's mother! Walk in this way, if you please,
+ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>She opened the door, and ushered the veiled lady into a small, close
+room, poorly furnished. Over a smouldering fire, mending stockings, sat
+an old woman, who, notwithstanding the extreme shabbiness and poverty of
+her dress, lifted a pleasant, intelligent old face.</p>
+
+<p>"A lady to see you, mother," said the young woman, hushing her fretful
+baby and looking curiously at the veiled face.</p>
+
+<p>But the lady made no attempt to raise the envious screen, not even when
+Mrs. Martha Brand got up, dropping a respectful little servant's
+courtesy and placing a chair. It was a very thick veil&mdash;an impenetrable
+shield&mdash;and nothing could be discovered of the face behind it but that
+it was fixedly pale. She sank into the seat, her face turned to the old
+woman behind that sable screen.</p>
+
+<p>"You are Mrs. Brand?"</p>
+
+<p>The voice was refined and patrician. It would have told she was a lady,
+even if the rich garments she wore did not.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am&mdash;your ladyship; Martha Brand."</p>
+
+<p>"And you inserted that advertisement in the <i>Times</i> regarding a child
+left in your care ten years ago?"</p>
+
+<p>Mother and daughter started, and stared at the speaker.</p>
+
+<p>"It was addressed to Mr. Vyking, who left the child in your charge, by
+which I infer you are not aware that he has left England."</p>
+
+<p>"Left England, has he?" said Mrs. Brand. "More shame for him, then,
+never to let me know or leave a farthing to support the boy!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am inclined to believe it was not his fault," said the clear,
+patrician voice. "He left England suddenly and against his will, and, I
+have reason to think, will never return. But there are others
+interested&mdash;more interested than he could possibly be&mdash;in the child, who
+remain, and who are willing to take him off your hands. But first, why
+is it you are so anxious, after keeping him all these years, to get rid
+of him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you see, your ladyship," replied Martha Brand, "it is not me, nor
+likewise Ellen there, who is my daughter. We'd keep the lad and welcome,
+and share the last crust we had with him, as we often have&mdash;for we're
+very poor people; but, you see, Ellen, she's married now, and her
+husband never could bear Guy&mdash;that's what we call him, your
+ladyship&mdash;Guy, which it was Mr. Vyking's own orders. Phil Darking, her
+husband, never did like him somehow; and when he gets drunk, saving your
+ladyship's presence, he beats him most unmercifully. And now we're going
+to America&mdash;to New York, where Phil's got a brother and work is better,
+and he won't fetch Guy. So, your ladyship, I thought I'd try once more
+before we deserted him, and put that advertisement in the <i>Times</i>, which
+I'm very glad I did, if it will fetch the poor lad any friends."</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's pause; then the lady asked, thoughtfully: "And when
+do you leave for New York?"</p>
+
+<p>"The day after to-morrow, ma'am&mdash;and a long journey it is for a poor old
+body like me."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you live here when Mr. Vyking left the child with you&mdash;in this
+neighborhood?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not in this neighborhood, nor in London at all, your ladyship. It was
+Lowdean, in Berkshire, and my husband was alive at the time. I had just
+lost my baby, and the landlady of the hotel recommended me. So he
+brought it, and paid me thirty sovereigns, and promised me thirty more
+every twelvemonth, and told me to call it Guy Vyking&mdash;and that was the
+last I ever saw of him."</p>
+
+<p>"And the infant's mother?" said the lady, her voice changing
+perceptibly&mdash;"do you know anything of her?"</p>
+
+<p>"But very little," said Martha Brand, shaking her head. "I never set
+eyes on her, although she was sick at the inn for upward of three weeks.
+But Mrs. Vine, the landlady, she saw her twice; and she told me what a
+pretty young creeter she was&mdash;and a lady, if there ever was a lady yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Then the child was born in Berkshire&mdash;how was it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, your ladyship, it was an accident, seeing as how the carriage
+broke down with Mr. Vyking and the lady, a-driving furious to catch the
+last London train. The lady was so hurted that she had to be carried to
+the inn, and went quite out of her head, raving and dangerous like. Mr.
+Vyking had the landlady to wait upon her until he could telegraph to
+London for a nurse, which one came down next day and took charge of her.
+The baby wasn't two days old when he brought it to me, and the poor
+young mother was dreadful low and out of her head all the time. Mr.
+Vyking and the nurse were all that saw her, and the doctor, of course;
+but she didn't die, as the doctor thought she would, but got well, and
+before she came right to her senses Mr. Vyking paid the doctor and told
+him he needn't come back. And then, a little more than a fortnight
+after, they took her away, all sly and secret-like, and what they told
+her about her poor baby I don't know. I always thought there was
+something dreadful wrong about the whole thing."</p>
+
+<p>"And this Mr. Vyking&mdash;was he the child's father&mdash;the woman's husband?"</p>
+
+<p>Martha Brand looked sharply at the speaker, as if she suspected <i>she</i>
+could answer that question best herself.</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody knew, but everybody thought who. I've always been of opinion
+myself that Guy's father and mother were gentlefolks, and I always shall
+be."</p>
+
+<p>"Does the boy know his own story?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, your ladyship&mdash;all I've told you."</p>
+
+<p>"Where is he? I should like to see him."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Brand's daughter, all this time hushing her baby, started up.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll fetch him. He's up-stairs in Legard's, I know."</p>
+
+<p>She left the room and ran up-stairs. The painter, Legard, still was
+touching up Miss Jenkins, and the bright-haired boy stood watching the
+progress of that work of art.</p>
+
+<p>"Guy! Guy!" she cried breathlessly, "come down-stairs at once. You're
+wanted."</p>
+
+<p>"Who wants me, Ellen?"</p>
+
+<p>"A lady, dressed in the most elegant and expensive mourning&mdash;a real
+lady, Guy; and she has come about that advertisement, and she wants to
+see you."</p>
+
+<p>"What is she like, Mrs. Darking?" inquired the painter&mdash;"young or old?"</p>
+
+<p>"Young, I should think; but she hides her face behind a thick veil, as
+if she didn't want to be known. Come, Guy."</p>
+
+<p>She hurried the lad down-stairs and into their little room. The veiled
+lady still sat talking to the old woman, her back to the dim daylight,
+and that disguising veil still down. She turned slightly at their
+entrance, and looked at the boy through it. Guy stood in the middle of
+the floor, his fearless blue eyes fixed on the hidden face. Could he
+have seen it he might have started at the grayish pallor which
+overspread it at sight of him.</p>
+
+<p>"So like! So like!" the lady was murmuring between her set teeth. "It is
+terrible&mdash;it is marvelous!"</p>
+
+<p>"This is Guy, your ladyship," said Martha Brand. "I've done what I could
+for him for the last ten years, and I'm almost as sorry to part with him
+as if he were my own. Is your ladyship going to take him away with you
+now?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said her ladyship, sharply; "I have no such intention. Have you no
+neighbor or friend who would be willing to take and bring him up, if
+well paid for the trouble? This time the money shall be paid without
+fail."</p>
+
+<p>"There's Legard's," cried the boy, eagerly. "I'll go to Legard's,
+granny. I'd rather be with Joe than anywhere else."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a neighbor that lives up-stairs," murmured Martha, in explanation.
+"He always took to Guy and Guy to him in a way that's quite wonderful.
+He's a very decent man, your ladyship&mdash;a painter for a theatre; and Guy
+takes kindly to the business, and would like to be one himself. If you
+don't want to take away the boy, you couldn't leave him in better
+hands."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad to hear it. Can I see the man?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll fetch him!" cried Guy, and ran out of the room. Two minutes later
+came Mr. Legard, paper cap and shirt-sleeves, bowing very low to the
+grand, black-robed lady, and only too delighted to strike a bargain. The
+lady offered liberally; Mr. Legard closed with the offer at once.</p>
+
+<p>"You will clothe him better, and you will educate him and give him your
+name. I wish him to drop that of Vyking. The same amount I give you now
+will be sent you this time every year. If you change your residence in
+the meantime, or wish to communicate with me on any occurrence of
+consequence, you can address Madam Ada, post office, Plymouth."</p>
+
+<p>She rose as she spoke, stately and tall, and motioned Mr. Legard to
+withdraw. The painter gathered up the money she laid on the table, and
+bowed himself, with a radiant face, out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"As for you," turning to old Martha, and taking out of her purse a roll
+of crisp, Bank of England notes, "I think this will pay you for the
+trouble you have had with the boy during the last ten years. No
+thanks&mdash;you have earned the money."</p>
+
+<p>She moved to the door, made a slight, proud gesture with her gloved hand
+in farewell, took a last look at the golden haired, blue eyed, handsome
+boy, and was gone. A moment later and her cab rattled out of the murky
+street, and the trio were alone staring at one another, and at the bulky
+roll of notes.</p>
+
+<p>"I should think it was a dream only for this," murmured old Martha,
+looking at the roll with glistening eyes. "A great lady&mdash;a great lady,
+surely! Guy, I shouldn't wonder if that was your mother."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+<h3>COLONEL JOCYLN.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Five miles away from Thetford Towers, where the multitudinous waves
+leaped and glistened all day in the sun-light, as if a-glitter with
+diamonds, stood Jocyln Hall. An imposing structure of red brick, not yet
+one hundred years old, with sloping meadows spreading away into the blue
+horizon, and densely wooded plantations gliding down to the wide sea.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Jocyln, the lord of the boundless meadows and miles of woodland,
+where the red deer disported in the green arcades, was absent in India,
+and had been for the past nine years. They were an old family, the
+Jocylns, as old as any in Devon, and with a pride that bore no
+proportion to their purse, until the present Jocyln, had, all at once
+become a millionaire. A penniless young lieutenant in a cavalry
+regiment, quartered somewhere in Ireland, with a handsome face and
+dashing manners, he had captivated, at first sight, a wild, young Irish
+heiress of fabulous wealth and beauty. It was a love-match on her
+side&mdash;nobody knew exactly what it was on his; but they made a moonlight
+flitting of it, for the lady's friends were grievously wroth. Lieutenant
+Jocyln liked his profession for its own sake, and took his Irish bride
+to India, and there an heiress and only child was born to him. The
+climate disagreed with the young wife&mdash;she sickened and died; but the
+young officer and his baby girl remained in India. In the fullness of
+time he became Colonel Jocyln; and one day electrified his housekeeper
+by a letter announcing his intention of returning to England with his
+little daughter Aileen for good.</p>
+
+<p>That same month of December, which took Lady Thetford on that mysterious
+London journey, brought this letter from Calcutta. Five months after,
+when the May primroses and hyacinths were all abloom in the green
+seaside woodlands, Colonel Jocyln and his little daughter came home.</p>
+
+<p>Early on the day succeeding his arrival, Colonel Jocyln rode through the
+bright spring sunshine, along the pleasant high road between Jocyln Hall
+and Thetford Towers. He had met the late Sir Noel and his bride once or
+twice previous to his departure for India; but there had been no
+acquaintance sufficiently close to warrant this speedy call.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford, sitting alone in her boudoir, looked in surprise at the
+card the servant brought.</p>
+
+<p>"Colonel Jocyln," she said, "I did not even know he had arrived. And to
+call so soon&mdash;ah! perhaps he fetches me letters from India."</p>
+
+<p>She rose at the thought, her pale cheeks flushing a little with
+expectation. Mail after mail had arrived from that distant land,
+bringing her no letter from Captain Everard.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford descended at once. She had few callers; but she was always
+exquisitely dressed and ready to receive at a moment's notice. Colonel
+Jocyln&mdash;tall and sallow and soldierly&mdash;rose at her entrance.</p>
+
+<p>"Lady Thetford? Ah, yes! Most happy to see your ladyship once more.
+Permit me to apologize for this very early call&mdash;you will overlook my
+haste when you hear my reason."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford held out her white hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Allow me to welcome you back to England, Colonel Jocyln. You have come
+for good this time, I hope. And little Aileen is well, I trust?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, and very glad to be released from shipboard. I need not ask
+for young Sir Rupert&mdash;I saw him with his nurse in the park as I rode up.
+A fine boy, and like you, my lady."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Rupert is like me. And now&mdash;how are our mutual friends in India?"</p>
+
+<p>The momentous question she had been longing to ask from the first; but
+her well-trained voice spoke it as steadily as though it had been a
+question of the weather.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Jocyln's face clouded, darkened.</p>
+
+<p>"I bring bad news from India, my lady. Captain Everard was a friend of
+yours?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; he left his little daughter in my charge."</p>
+
+<p>"I know. You have not heard from him lately?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, and I have been rather anxious. Nothing has befallen the captain, I
+hope?"</p>
+
+<p>The well-trained voice shook a little despite its admirable training,
+and the slender fingers looped and unlooped nervously her watch-chain.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Lady Thetford; the very worst that could befall him. George
+Everard is dead."</p>
+
+<p>There was a blank pause. Colonel Jocyln looked grave and downcast and
+sad.</p>
+
+<p>"He was my friend," he said, in a low voice, "my intimate friend for
+many years&mdash;a fine fellow and brave as a lion. Many, many nights we have
+lain with the stars of India shining on our bivouac whilst he talked to
+me of you, of England, of his daughter."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford never spoke, never stirred. She was sitting gazing
+steadfastly out of the window at the sparkling sunshine, and Colonel
+Jocyln could not see her face.</p>
+
+<p>"He was as glorious a soldier as ever I knew," the colonel went on; "and
+he died a soldier's death&mdash;shot through the heart. They buried him out
+there with military honors, and some of his men cried on his grave like
+children."</p>
+
+<p>There was another blank pause. Still Lady Thetford sat with that fixed
+gaze on the brilliant May sunshine, moveless as stone.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a sad thing for his poor little girl," the Indian officer said;
+"she is fortunate in having such a guardian as you, Lady Thetford."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford awoke from her trance. She had been in a trance, and the
+years had slipped backward, and she had been in her far-off girlhood's
+home, with George Everard, her handsome, impetuous lover, by her side.
+She had loved him then, even when she said no and married another; she
+loved him still, and now he was dead&mdash;dead! But she turned to her
+visitor with a face that told nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"I am so sorry&mdash;so very, very sorry. My poor little May! Did Captain
+Everard speak of her, of me, before he died?"</p>
+
+<p>"He died instantaneously, my lady. There was no time."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, no! poor fellow! It is the fortune of war&mdash;but it is very sad."</p>
+
+<p>That was all; we may feel inexpressibly, but we can only utter
+commonplaces. Lady Thetford was very, very pale, but her pallor told
+nothing of the dreary pain at her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like to see little May? I will send for her."</p>
+
+<p>Little May was sent for and came. A brilliant little fairy as ever,
+brightly dressed, with shimmering golden curls and starry eyes. By her
+side stood Sir Rupert&mdash;the nine-year-old baronet, growing tall very
+fast, pale and slender still, and looking at the colonel with his
+mother's dark, deep eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Jocyln held out his hand to the flaxen-haired fairy.</p>
+
+<p>"Come here, little May, and kiss papa's friend. You remember papa, don't
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said May, sitting on his knee contentedly. "Oh, yes! When is papa
+coming home? He said in mamma's letter he would fetch me lots and lots
+of dolls and picture-books. Is he coming home?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not very soon," the colonel said, inexpressibly touched; "but little
+May will go to papa some day. You and mamma, I suppose?" smiling at Lady
+Thetford.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," nodded May, "that's mamma, and Rupert's mamma. Oh! I am so sorry
+papa isn't coming home soon! Do you know"&mdash;looking up in his face with
+big, shining, solemn eyes&mdash;"I've got a pony, and I can ride lovely; and
+his name is Snowdrop, because it's all white; and Rupert's is black, and
+<i>his</i> name is Sultan? And I've got a watch; mamma gave it to me last
+Christmas; and my doll's name&mdash;the big one, you know, that opens its
+eyes and says 'mamma' and 'papa'&mdash;is Sonora. Have you got any little
+girls at home?"</p>
+
+<p>"One, Miss Chatterbox."</p>
+
+<p>"What's her name!"</p>
+
+<p>"Aileen&mdash;Aileen Jocyln."</p>
+
+<p>"Is she nice?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very nice, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"Will she come to see me?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you wish it and mamma wishes it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes! you do, don't you, mamma? How big is your little girl&mdash;as big
+as me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bigger, I fancy. She is nine years old."</p>
+
+<p>"Then she's as big as Rupert&mdash;<i>he's</i> nine years old. May she fetch her
+doll to see Sonora?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly&mdash;a regiment of dolls, if she wishes."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't she come to-morrow?" asked Rupert. "To-morrow's May's birthday;
+May's seven years old to-morrow. Mayn't she come!"</p>
+
+<p>"That must be as mamma says."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, fetch her!" cried Lady Thetford, "it will be so nice for May and
+Rupert. Only I hope little May won't quarrel with her; she does quarrel
+with her playmates a good deal, I am sorry to say."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't if she's nice," said May; "it's all their fault. Oh, Rupert!
+there's Mrs. Weymore on the lawn, and I want her to come and see the
+rabbits. There's five little rabbits this morning, mamma&mdash;mayn't I go
+and show them to Mrs. Weymore?"</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford nodded smiling acquiescence; and away ran little May and
+Rupert to show the rabbits to the governess.</p>
+
+<p>Col. Jocyln lingered for half an hour or upward, conversing with his
+hostess, and rose to take his leave at last, with the promise of
+returning on the morrow with his little daughter, and dining at the
+house. As he mounted his horse and rode homeward, "a haunting shape, an
+image gay," followed him through the genial May sunshine&mdash;Lady Ada
+Thetford, fair, and stately and graceful.</p>
+
+<p>"Nine years a widow," he mused. "They say she took her husband's death
+very hard&mdash;and no wonder, considering how he died; but nine years is a
+tolerable time in which to forget. She took the news of Everard's death
+very quietly. I don't suppose there was ever anything really in that old
+story. How handsome she is, and how graceful!"</p>
+
+<p>He broke off in his musing fit to light a cigar, and see through the
+curling smoke dark-eyed Ada, mamma to little Aileen as well as the other
+two. He had never thought of wanting a wife before, in all these years
+of his widowhood; but the want struck him forcibly now.</p>
+
+<p>"And Aileen wants a mother, and the little baronet a father," he
+thought, complacently; "my lady can't do better."</p>
+
+<p>So next day at the earliest possible hour, came back the gallant
+colonel, and with him a brown-haired, brown-eyed, quiet-looking little
+girl, as tall, every inch, as Sir Rupert. A little embryo patrician,
+with pride in her infantile lineaments already, an uplifted poise of the
+graceful head, a light, elastic step, and a softly-modulated voice. A
+little lady from top to toe, who opened her little brown eyes in wide
+wonder at the antics, and gambols, and obstreperousness, generally, of
+little May.</p>
+
+<p>There were two or three children from the rectory, and half a dozen from
+other families in the neighborhood&mdash;and the little birthday feast was
+under the charge of Mrs. Weymore, the governess, pale and pretty, and
+subdued as of old. They raced through the leafy arcades of the park, and
+gamboled in the garden, and had tea in a fairy summer house, to the
+music of plashing fountains&mdash;and little May was captain of the band.
+Even shy, still Aileen Jocyln forgot her youthful dignity, and raced and
+laughed with the best.</p>
+
+<p>"It was so nice, papa!" she cried rapturously, riding home in the misty
+moonlight. "I never enjoyed myself so well. I like Rupert so
+much&mdash;better than May, you know; May's so rude and laughs so loud. I've
+asked them to come and see me, papa; and May said she would make her
+mamma let them come next week. And then I'm going back&mdash;I shall always
+like to go there."</p>
+
+<p>Col. Jocyln smiled as he listened to his little daughter's prattle.
+Perhaps he agreed with her; perhaps he, too, liked to go there. The
+dinner-party, at which he and the rector of St. Gosport, and the
+rector's wife were the only guests, had been quite as pleasant as the
+birthday fete. Very graceful, very fair and stately, had looked the lady
+of the manor, presiding at her own dinner-table. How well she would look
+at the head of his.</p>
+
+<p>The Indian officer, after that, became a very frequent guest at Thetford
+Towers&mdash;the children were such a good excuse. Aileen was lonely at home,
+and Rupert and May were always glad to have her. So papa drove her over
+nearly every day, or else came to fetch the other two to Jocyln Hall.
+Lady Thetford was ever most gracious, and the colonel's hopes ran high.</p>
+
+<p>Summer waned. It was October, and Lady Thetford began talking of leaving
+St. Gosport for a season; her health was not good, and change of air was
+recommended.</p>
+
+<p>"I can leave my children in charge of Mrs. Weymore," she said. "I have
+every confidence in her; and she has been with me so long. I think I
+shall depart next week; Dr. Gale says I have delayed too long."</p>
+
+<p>Col. Jocyln looked up uneasily. They were sitting alone together,
+looking at the red October sunset blazing itself out behind the Devon
+hills.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall miss you very much," he said, softly. "I shall miss you."</p>
+
+<p>Something in his tone struck Lady Thetford. She turned her dark eyes
+upon him in surprise and sudden alarm. The look had to be answered;
+rather embarrassed, and not at all so confident as he thought he would
+have been, Col. Jocyln asked Lady Thetford to be his wife.</p>
+
+<p>There was a blank pause. Then,</p>
+
+<p>"I am very sorry, Col. Jocyln, I never thought of this."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her, pale&mdash;alarmed.</p>
+
+<p>"Does that mean no, Lady Thetford?"</p>
+
+<p>"It means no, Col. Jocyln. I have never thought of you save as a friend;
+as a friend I still wish to retain you. I will never marry. What I am
+to-day I will go to my grave. My boy has my whole heart&mdash;there is no
+room in it for anyone else. Let us be friends, Col. Jocyln," holding out
+her white jeweled hand, "more, no mortal man can ever be to me."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>LADY THETFORD'S BALL.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Years came and years went, and thirteen passed away. In all these years
+with their countless changes, Thetford Towers had been a deserted house.
+Comparatively speaking, of course; Mrs. Weymore, the governess, Mrs.
+Hilliard, the housekeeper, Mr. Jarvis, the butler, and their minor
+satellites, served there still, but its mistress and her youthful son
+had been absent. Only little May had remained under Mrs. Weymore's
+charge until within the last two years, and then she, too, had gone to
+Paris to a finishing school.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford came herself to the Towers to fetch her&mdash;the only time in
+these thirteen years. She had spent them pleasantly enough, rambling
+about the Continent, and in her villa on the Arno, for her health was
+frail, and growing daily frailer, and demanded a sunny Southern clime.
+The little baronet had gone to Eton, thence to Oxford, passing his
+vacation abroad with his mamma&mdash;and St. Gosport had seen nothing of
+them. Lady Thetford had thought it best, for many reasons, to leave
+little May quietly in England during her wanderings. She missed the
+child, but she had every confidence in Mrs. Weymore. The old aversion
+had entirely worn away, but time had taught her she could trust her
+implicitly; and though May might miss "mamma" and Rupert, it was not in
+that flighty fairy's nature to take their absence very deeply to heart.</p>
+
+<p>Jocyln Hall was vacated, too. After that refusal of Lady Thetford, Col.
+Jocyln had left England, placed his daughter in a school abroad, and
+made a tour of the East.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford he had not met until within the last year, when Lady
+Thetford and her son, spending the winter in Rome, had encountered Col.
+and Miss Jocyln, and they had scarcely parted company since. The
+Thetfords were to return early in the spring to take up their abode once
+more in the old home, and Col. Jocyln announced his intention of
+following their example.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford wrote to Mrs. Weymore, her vice-roy, and to her steward,
+issuing her orders for the expected return. Thetford Towers was to be
+completely rejuvenated&mdash;new furnished, painted and decorated. Landscape
+gardeners were set at work in the grounds; all things were to be ready
+the following June.</p>
+
+<p>Summer came and brought the absentees&mdash;Lady Thetford and her son, Col.
+Jocyln and his daughter; and there were bonfires and illuminations, and
+feasting of tenantry, and ringing of bells, and general jubilation, that
+the heir of Thetford Towers had come to reign at last.</p>
+
+<p>The week following the arrival, Lady Thetford issued invitations over
+half the country for a grand ball. Thetford Towers, after over twenty
+years of gloom and solitude, was coming out again in the old gayety and
+brilliance that had been its normal state before the present heir was
+born.</p>
+
+<p>The night of the ball came, and with nearly every one who had been
+honored with an invitation, all curious to see the future lord of one of
+the noblest domains in broad Devonshire.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Rupert Thetford stood by his mother's side, and met her old friends
+for the first time since his boyhood&mdash;a slender young man, pale and
+dark, and handsome of face with dreamy slumbrous eyes of darkness, and
+quiet manners, not at all like his father's fair-haired, bright-eyed,
+stalwart Saxon race; the Thetford blood had run out, he was his own
+mother's son.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford grown pallid and wan, and wasted in all these years, and
+bearing within the seeds of an incurable disease, looked yet fair and
+gracious, and stately in her trailing robes and jewels, to-night,
+receiving her guests like a queen. It was the triumph of her life, the
+desire of her heart, this seeing her son, her idol, reigning in the home
+of his fathers, ruler of the broad domain that had owned the Thetfords
+lord for more years back than she could count.</p>
+
+<p>"If I could but see her his wife," Lady Thetford thought, "I think I
+should have nothing left on earth to desire."</p>
+
+<p>She glanced across the wide room, along a vista of lights, and flitting
+forms, and rich dresses, and sparkling jewels, to where a young lady
+stood, the center of an animated group&mdash;a tall and eminently handsome
+girl, with a proud patrician face, and the courtly grace of a young
+empress&mdash;Aileen Jocyln, heiress of fabulous wealth, possessor of
+fabulous beauty, and descendant of a race as noble and as ancient as his
+own.</p>
+
+<p>"With her for his wife, come what might in the future, my Rupert would
+be safe," the mother thought; "and who knows what a day may bring forth?
+Ah! if I dared only speak, but I dare not; it would ruin all. I know my
+son."</p>
+
+<p>Yes, Lady Thetford knew her son, understood his character thoroughly,
+and was a great deal too wary a conspirator to let him see her cards.
+Fate, not she, had thrown the heiress and the baronet constantly
+together of late, and Aileen's own beauty and grace was surely
+sufficient for the rest. It was the one desire of Lady Thetford's heart;
+but she never said to her son, who loved her dearly, and would have done
+a great deal to add to her happiness. She left it to fate, and leaving
+it, was doing the wisest thing she could possibly do.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed as if her hopes were likely to be realized. Sir Rupert had an
+artist's and a Sybarite's love for all things beautiful, and could
+appreciate the grand statuesque style of Miss Jocyln's beauty, even as
+his mother could not appreciate it. She was like the Pallas Athine, she
+was his ideal woman, fair and proud, uplifted and serene, smiling on
+all, from the heights of high-and-mightydom, but shining upon them, a
+brilliant far-off star, keeping her warmth and sweetness all for him. He
+was an indolent, dreamy Sybarite, this pale young baronet, who liked his
+rose-leaves unruffled under him, full of artistic tastes and
+inspirations, and a great deal too lazy ever to carry them into effect.
+He was an artist, and he had a studio where he began fifty gigantic
+deeds at once in the way of pictures, and seldom finished one. Nature
+had intended him for an artist, not country squire; he cared little for
+riding, or hunting, or fishing, or farming, or any of the things wherein
+country squires delight; he liked better to lie on the warm grass, with
+the summer wind stirring in the trees over his head, and smoke his
+Turkish pipe, and dream the lazy hours away. If he had been born a poor
+man he might have been a great painter; as it was, he was only an idle,
+listless, elegant, languid dreamer, and so likely to remain until the
+end of the chapter.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford's ball was a very brilliant affair, and a famous success.
+Until far into the gray and dismal dawn, "flute, violin, bassoon," woke
+sweet echoes in the once ghostly rooms, so long where silence had
+reigned. Half the county had been invited, and half the county were
+there; and hosts of pretty, rosy girls, in arcophane and roses, and
+sparkling jewelry, baited their dainty traps, and "wove becks and nods,
+and wreathed smiles," for the special delectation of the handsome
+courtly heir of Thetford Towers.</p>
+
+<p>But the heir of Thetford Towers, with gracious greetings for all, yet
+walked through the rose strewn pitfalls all secure, whilst the starry
+face of Aileen Jocyln shone on him in its pale, high-bred beauty. He had
+not danced much; he had an antipathy to dancing as he had to exertion of
+any kind, and presently he stood leaning against a slender white column,
+watching her in a state of lazy admiration. He could see quite as
+clearly as his mother how eminently proper a marriage with the heiress
+of Col. Jocyln would be; he knew by instinct, too, how much she desired
+it; and it was easy enough, looking at her in her girlish pride and
+beauty, to fancy himself very much in love, and though anything but a
+coxcomb, Sir Rupert Thetford was perfectly aware of his own handsome
+face and dreamy artist's eyes, and his fifteen thousand a year, and
+lengthy pedigree, and had a hazy idea that the handsome Aileen would not
+say no when he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"And I'll speak to-night, by Jove!" thought the young baronet, as near
+being enthusiastic as was his nature, as he watched her, the brilliant
+center of a brilliant group. "How exquisite she is in her statuesque
+grace, my peerless Aileen, the ideal of my dreams. I'll ask her to be my
+wife to-night, or that inconceivable idiot, Lord Gilbert Penryhn, will
+do it to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>He sauntered over to the group, not at all insensible to the quick,
+bright smile and flitting flush with which Miss Jocyln welcomed him.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe this waltz is mine, Miss Jocyln. Very sorry to break upon
+your <i>tete-a-tete</i>, Penryhn, but necessity knows no law."</p>
+
+<p>A moment and they were floating down the whirling tide of the dance,
+with the wild, melancholy waltz music swelling and sounding, and Miss
+Jocyln's perfumed hair breathing fragrance around him, and the starry
+face and dark, dewy eyes downcast a little, in a happy tremor. The cold,
+still look of fixed pride seemed to melt out of her face, and an
+exquisite rosy light came and went in its place, and made her too lovely
+to tell; and Sir Rupert saw and understood it all, with a little
+complacent thrill of satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>They floated out of the ball-room into a conservatory of exquisite
+blossom, where tropic plants of gorgeous hues, and plashing fountains,
+under the white light of alabaster lamps, made a sort of garden of Eden.
+There were orange and myrtle trees oppressing the warm air with their
+sweetness, and through the open French windows came the soft, misty
+moonlight and the saline wind. There they stopped, looking out of the
+pale glory of the night, and there Sir Rupert, about to ask the supreme
+question of his life, and with his heart beginning to plunge against his
+side, opened conversation with the usual brilliancy in such cases.</p>
+
+<p>"You look fatigued, Miss Jocyln. These grand balls are great bores,
+after all."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Jocyln laughed frankly. She was of a nature far more impassioned
+than his, and she loved him; and she felt thrilling through every nerve
+in her body the prescience of what he was going to say; for all that,
+being a woman, she had the best of it now.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not at all fatigued," she said; "and I like it. I don't think
+balls are bores&mdash;like this, I mean; but then, to be sure, my experience
+is very limited. How lovely the night is! Look at the moonlight, yonder,
+on the sea&mdash;a sheet of silvery glory. Does it not recall Sorrento and
+the exquisite Sorrentine landscape&mdash;that moonlight on the sea? Are you
+not inspired, sir artist?"</p>
+
+<p>She lifted a flitting, radiant glance, a luminous smile, and the
+star-like face, drooped again&mdash;and the white hands took to reckless
+breaking off sweet sprays of myrtle.</p>
+
+<p>"My inspiration is nearer," looking down at the drooping face.
+"Aileen&mdash;&mdash;" and there he stopped, and the sentence was never destined
+to be finished, for a shadow darkened the moonlight, and a figure
+flitted in like a spirit and stood before them&mdash;a fairy figure, in a
+cloud of rosy drapery, with shimmering golden curls and dancing eyes of
+turquoise blue.</p>
+
+<p>Aileen Jocyln started back and away from her companion, with a faint,
+thrilling cry. Sir Rupert, wondering and annoyed, stood staring; and
+still the fairy figure in the rosy gauze stood, like a nymph in a stage
+tableau, smiling up in their faces and never speaking. There was a blank
+pause, a moment's; then Miss Jocyln made one step forward, doubt,
+recognition, delight, all in her face at once.</p>
+
+<p>"It is&mdash;it is!" she cried, "May Everard!"</p>
+
+<p>"May Everard!" Sir Rupert echoed&mdash;"little May!"</p>
+
+<p>"At your service, <i>monsieur</i>! To think you should have forgotten me so
+completely in a decade of years. For shame, Sir Rupert Thetford!"</p>
+
+<p>And then she was in Aileen Jocyln's arms, and there was an hiatus filled
+up with kisses.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! what a surprise!" Miss Jocyln cried breathlessly. "Have you dropped
+from the skies? I thought you were in France."</p>
+
+<p>May Everard laughed, the calm, bright laugh of thirteen years ago, as
+she held up her dimpled cheeks, first one and then the other, to Sir
+Rupert.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you? So I was, but I ran away."</p>
+
+<p>"Ran away! From school?"</p>
+
+<p>"Something very like it. Oh! how stupid it was, and I couldn't endure it
+any longer; and I am so crammed with knowledge now that if I held any
+more I should burst; and so I told them I had to come home; but I was
+sent for, which was true, you know, for I felt an inward call; and as
+they were glad to be rid of me, they didn't make much opposition or ask
+unnecessary questions. And so," folding the fairy hands and nodding her
+little ringleted head, "here I am."</p>
+
+<p>"But, good heavens!" cried Sir Rupert, aghast, "you never mean to say,
+May, you have come alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"All alone," said May, with another nod. "I'm used to it, you know; did
+it last vacation. Came across and spent it with Mrs. Weymore. I don't
+mind it the least; don't know what sea-sickness is; and oh! didn't some
+of the poor wretches suffer this time! Isn't it fortunate I'm here for
+the ball? And, Rupert, good gracious! how you've grown!"</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks. I can't see that you have changed much, Miss Everard. You are
+the same curly-headed, saucy fairy I knew thirteen years ago. What does
+my lady say to this escapade?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. Eloquent silence best expresses her feelings; and then she
+hadn't time to make a scene. Are you going to ask me to dance, Rupert?
+because if you are," said Miss Everard, adjusting her bracelet, "you had
+better do it at once, as I am going back to the ball-room, and after I
+once appear there you will stand no chance amongst the crowd of
+competitors. But then, perhaps you belong to Miss Jocyln?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," Miss Jocyln interposed, hastily, and reddening a little;
+"I am engaged, and it is time I was back, or my unlucky cavalier will be
+at his wit's end to find me."</p>
+
+<p>She swept away with a quicker movement than her wont, and Sir Rupert
+laughingly gave his piquant little partner his arm. His notions of
+propriety were a good deal shocked; but then it was only May Everard,
+and May Everard was one of those exceptionable people who can do pretty
+much as they please, and not surprise any one. They went back to the
+ball-room, the fairy in pink on the arm of the young baronet, chattering
+like a magpie. Miss Jocyln's partner found her and led her off; but Miss
+Jocyln was very silent and <i>distrait</i> all the rest of the night, and
+watched furtively, but incessantly, the fluttering pink fairy. She had
+reigned belle hitherto, but sparkling little May, like an embodied
+sunbeam, electrified the rooms, and took the crown and the sceptre by
+royal right. Sir Rupert had that one dance, and no more&mdash;Miss Everard's
+own prophecy was true&mdash;the demand for her was such that even the son of
+the house stood not the shadow of a chance.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Jocyln held herself aloof from the young baronet for the remaining
+hours of the ball. She had known as well as he the words that were on
+his lips when May Everard interposed, and her eyes flashed and her dark
+cheek flushed dusky red to see how easily he had been deterred from his
+purpose. For him, he sought her once or twice in a desultory sort of
+way, never noticing that he was purposely avoided, wandering contentedly
+back to devote himself to some one else, and in the pauses to watch May
+Everard floating&mdash;a sunbeam in a rosy cloud&mdash;here and there and
+everywhere.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+<h3>GUY LEGARD.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"He meant to have spoken that night; he would have spoken but for May
+Everard. And yet that is two weeks ago, and we have been together since,
+and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Aileen Jocyln broke off abruptly, and looked out over the far-spreading,
+gray sea.</p>
+
+<p>The morning was dull, the leaden sky threatening rain, the wind sighing
+fitfully, and the slow, gray sea creeping up the gray sands. Aileen
+Jocyln sat as she had sat since breakfast, aimless and dreary, by her
+dressing-room window, gazing blankly over the pale landscape, her hair
+falling loose and damp over her shoulders, and a novel lying listlessly
+in her lap. The book had no interest; her thoughts would stray, in spite
+of her, to Thetford Towers.</p>
+
+<p>"She is very pretty," Miss Jocyln thought, "with that pink and white
+wax-doll sort of prettiness some people admire. I never thought <i>he</i>
+could, with his artistic nature; but I suppose I was mistaken. They call
+her fascinating; I believe that rather hoidenish manner of hers, and all
+those dashing airs, and that 'loud' style of dress and doings, take some
+men by storm. I presume I was mistaken in Sir Rupert, I dare say pretty,
+penniless May will be Lady Thetford before long."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Jocyln's short upper-lip curled rather scornfully, and she rose up
+with a little air of petulance and walked across the room to the
+opposite window. It commanded a view of the lawn and a long wooded
+drive, and, cantering airily up under the waving trees, she saw the
+young lady of whom she had been thinking. The pretty, fleet-footed pony
+and his bright little mistress were by no means rare visitors at Jocyln
+Hall, and Miss Jocyln was always elaborately civil to Miss Everard. Very
+pretty little May looked&mdash;all her tinseled curls floating in the breeze,
+like a golden banner; the blue eyes more starily radiant than ever, the
+dark riding-habit and jaunty hat and plume the most becoming things in
+the world. She saw Miss Jocyln at the window, kissed her hand and
+resigned Arab to the groom. A minute more and she was saluting Aileen
+with effusion.</p>
+
+<p>"You solemn Aileen! to sit and mope here in the house, instead of
+improving your health and temper by a breezy canter over the downs.
+Don't contradict; I know you were moping. I should be afraid to tell you
+how many miles Arab and I have got over this morning. And you never came
+to see me yesterday, either. Why was it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't feel inclined," Miss Jocyln answered, truthfully.</p>
+
+<p>"No, you never <i>do</i> feel inclined unless I come and drag you out by
+force; you sit in the house and grow yellow and jaundiced over
+high-church novels. I declare I never met so many lazy people in all my
+life as I have done since I came home. One don't mind mamma, poor thing!
+shutting herself up and the sunshine and fresh air of heaven out; but,
+for you and Rupert! And, speaking of Rupert," ran on Miss Everard in a
+breathless sort of way, "he wanted to commence his great picture of
+'Fair Rosamond and Eleanor' yesterday&mdash;and how could he when Eleanor
+never came? Why didn't you&mdash;you promised?"</p>
+
+<p>"I changed my mind, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"And broke your word&mdash;more shame for you, then! Come now."</p>
+
+<p>"No; thanks. It's going to rain."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing of the sort; and Rupert is <i>so</i> anxious. He would have come
+himself, only my lady is ill to-day with one of her bad headaches, and
+asked him to read her to sleep; and, like the good boy that he is in the
+main, though shockingly lazy, he obeyed. Do come, Aileen; there's a
+dear! Don't be selfish."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Jocyln rose rather abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no desire to be selfish, Miss Everard. If you will wait ten
+minutes whilst I dress, I will accompany you to Thetford Towers."</p>
+
+<p>She rang the bell and swept from the room, stately and uplifted. May
+looked after her, fidgeting a little.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me! I suppose she's offended now at that word 'selfish.' I never
+<i>did</i> get on very well with Aileen Jocyln, and I'm afraid I never shall.
+I shouldn't wonder if she were jealous."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Everard laughed a little silvery laugh all to herself, and slapped
+her kid riding-boot with her pretty toy whip.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope I didn't interrupt a tender declaration that night in the
+conservatory, but it looked like it. If I did, I am sure Rupert has had
+fifty chances since, and I know he hasn't availed himself of them, or
+Aileen would never wear that dissatisfied face. I know she's in love
+with <i>him</i>, though, to be sure, she would see me impaled with the
+greatest pleasure if she only thought I suspected it; but I'm not so
+certain about him. He's a great deal too indolent in the first place, to
+get up a grand passion for anybody, and I think he's inclined to look
+graciously on me&mdash;poor little me&mdash;in the second. You may spare yourself
+the trouble, my dear Sir Rupert; for a gentleman whose chief aim in
+existence is to smoke Turkish pipes and lie on the grass and write and
+read poetry is not at all the sort of man I mean to bless for life."</p>
+
+<p>The two girls descended to the court-yard, mounted and rode off. Both
+rode well, and both looked their best on horseback, and made a
+wonderfully pretty picture as they galloped through St. Gosport in
+dashing style, bringing the admiring population in a rush to doors and
+windows. Perhaps Sir Rupert Thetford thought so, too, as he stood at the
+great front entrance to receive them, with a kindling light in his
+artist's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"May said she would fetch you, and May always keeps her word," he said,
+as he walked slowly up the sweeping staircase; "besides, Aileen, I am to
+have the first sitting for the 'Rosamond and Eleanor' to-day, am I not?
+May calls me an idle dreamer, a useless drone in the busy human hive;
+so, to vindicate my character and cleave a niche in the temple of fame,
+I am going to immortalize myself over this painting."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll never finish it," said May; "it will be like all the rest.
+You'll begin on a gigantic scale and with super-human efforts, and
+you'll cool down and get sick of it before it is half finished, and it
+will go to swell the pile of daubed canvas in your studio now. Don't
+tell me! I know you."</p>
+
+<p>"And have the poorest possible opinion of me, Miss Everard?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I have! I have no patience when I think what you might do, what
+you might become, and see what you are! If you were not Sir Rupert
+Thetford, with a princely income, you might be a great man. As it
+is&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"As it is!" cried the young baronet, trying to laugh and reddening
+violently, "I will still be a great man&mdash;a modern Murillo. Are you not a
+little severe, Miss Everard? Aileen, I believe this is your first visit
+to my studio?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Miss Jocyln, coldly and briefly. She did not like the
+conversation, and May Everard's familiar home-truths stung her. To her
+he was everything mortal man should be; she was proud, but she was not
+ambitious; what right had this penniless little free-speaker to come
+between them and talk like this?</p>
+
+<p>May was flitting about like the fairy she was, her head a little on one
+side, like a critical canary, her flowing skirt held up, inspecting the
+pictures.</p>
+
+<p>"'Jeanne D'Arc before her Judges,' half finished, as usual, and never to
+be completed; and weak&mdash;very, if it ever <i>was</i> completed. 'Battle of
+Bosworth Field,' in flaming colors, all confusion and smoke and red
+ochre and rubbish; you did well not to trouble yourself any more with
+that. 'Swiss Peasant'&mdash;ah! that <i>is</i> pretty. 'Storm at Sea,' just
+tolerable. 'Trial of Marie Antoinette.' My dear Rupert, why will you
+persist in these figure paintings when you know your forte is landscape?
+'An Evening in the Eternal City.' Now, that is what I call an exquisite
+little thing! Look at the moon, Aileen, rising over those hill-tops; and
+see those trees&mdash;you can almost feel the wind that blows! And that
+prostrate figure&mdash;why, that looks like yourself, Rupert!"</p>
+
+<p>"It <i>is</i> myself."</p>
+
+<p>"And the other, stooping&mdash;who is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"The painter of that picture, Miss Everard; yes, the only thing in my
+poor studio you see fit to eulogize is not mine. It was done by an
+artist friend&mdash;an unknown Englishman, who saved my life in Rome three
+years ago. Come in, mother mine, and defend your son from the two-edged
+sword of May Everard's tongue."</p>
+
+<p>For Lady Thetford, pale and languid, appeared on the threshold, wrapped
+in a shawl.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all for his good, mamma. Come here and look at this 'Evening in
+the Eternal City.' Rupert has nothing like it in all his collection,
+though these are the beginning of many better things. He saved your
+life? How was it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! a little affair with brigands; nothing very thrilling, but I should
+have been killed or captured all the same, if this Legard had not come
+to the rescue. May is right about the picture; he painted well, had come
+to Rome to perfect himself in his art. Very fine fellow, Legard."</p>
+
+<p>"Legard!"</p>
+
+<p>It was Lady Thetford who had spoken sharply and suddenly. She had put up
+her glass to look at the Italian picture, but dropped it, and faced
+abruptly round.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Legard. Guy Legard, a young Englishman, about my own age.
+By-the-bye, if you saw him, you would be surprised by his singular
+resemblance to some of those dead and gone Thetfords hanging over there
+in the picture-gallery&mdash;fair hair, blue eyes, and the same peculiar cast
+of features to a shade. I was rather taken aback, I confess, when I saw
+it first. My dear mother&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>It was not a cry Lady Thetford had uttered&mdash;it was a kind of wordless
+sob. He soon caught her in his arms and held her there, her face the
+color of death.</p>
+
+<p>"Get a glass of water, May&mdash;she is subject to these attacks. Quick!"</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford drank the water, and sunk back in the chair Aileen wheeled
+up, her face looking awfully corpse-like in contrast to her dark
+garments and dead black hair.</p>
+
+<p>"You should not have left your room," said Sir Rupert, "after your
+attack this morning. Perhaps you had better return and lie down. You
+look perfectly ghastly."</p>
+
+<p>"No," his mother sat up as she spoke and pushed away the glass, "there
+is no necessity for lying down. Don't wear that scared face, May&mdash;it was
+nothing, I assure you. Go on with what you were saying, Rupert."</p>
+
+<p>"What I was saying? What was it?"</p>
+
+<p>"About this young artist's resemblance to the Thetfords."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! well, there's no more to say; that is all. He saved my life and he
+painted that picture, and we were Damon and Pythias over again during my
+stay in Rome. I always <i>do</i> fraternize with those sort of fellows, you
+know; and I left him in Rome, and he promised, if he ever returned to
+England&mdash;which he wasn't so sure of&mdash;he would run down to Devonshire to
+see me and my painted ancestors, whom he resembles so strongly. That is
+all; and now, young ladies, if you will take your places we will
+commence on the Rosamond and Eleanor. Mother, sit here by this window if
+you want to play propriety, and don't talk."</p>
+
+<p>But Lady Thetford chose to go to her own room, and her son gave her his
+arm thither and left her lying back amongst her cushions in front of the
+fire. It was always chilly in those great and somewhat gloomy rooms, and
+her ladyship was always cold of late. She lay there looking with gloomy
+eyes into the ruddy blaze, and holding her hands over her painfully
+beating heart.</p>
+
+<p>"It is destiny, I suppose," she thought, bitterly; "let me banish him to
+the farthest end of the earth; let me keep him in poverty and obscurity
+all his life, and when the day comes that it is written, Guy Legard will
+be here. Sooner or later the vow I have broken to Sir Noel Thetford must
+be kept; sooner or later Sir Noel's heir will have his own."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+<h3>ASKING IN MARRIAGE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>A fire burned in Lady Thetford's room, and among piles of silken pillows
+my lady, languid and pale, lay, looking into the leaping flame. It was a
+hot July morning, the sun blazed like a wheel of fire in a sky without a
+cloud, but Lady Thetford was always chilly of late. She drew the crimson
+shawl she wore closer around her, and glanced impatiently now and then
+at the pretty toy clock on the decorated chimney-piece. The house was
+very still; its one disturbing element, Miss Everard, was absent with
+Sir Rupert for a morning canter over the sunny Devon hills.</p>
+
+<p>"How long they stay, and these solitary rides are so dangerous! Oh! what
+will become of me if it is too late, after all! What shall I do if he
+says no?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a quick man's step without&mdash;a moment and the door opened, and
+Sir Rupert, "booted and spurred" from his ride, was bending over his
+mother.</p>
+
+<p>"Louise says you sent for me after I left. What is it, mother&mdash;you are
+not worse?"</p>
+
+<p>He knelt beside her. Lady Thetford put back the fair brown hair with
+tender touch, and gazed in the handsome face so like her own, with eyes
+full of unspeakable love.</p>
+
+<p>"My boy! my boy!" she murmured, "my darling Rupert! Oh! it <i>is</i> hard, it
+<i>is</i> bitter to have to leave you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Mother!" with a quick look of alarm, "what is it? Are you worse?"</p>
+
+<p>"No worse, Rupert; but no better. My boy, I shall never be better again
+in this world."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, my Rupert&mdash;wait; you know it is true; and but for leaving you I
+should be glad to go. My life has not been so happy since your father
+died, that I should greatly cling to it."</p>
+
+<p>"But, mother, this won't do; these morbid fancies are worst of all.
+Keeping up one's spirits is half the battle."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not morbid; I merely state a fact&mdash;a fact which must preface what
+is to come. Rupert, I know I am dying, and before we part I want to see
+my successor at Thetford Towers."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear mother!" amazedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Rupert, I want to see Aileen Jocyln your wife. No, no; don't interrupt
+me, but believe me, I dislike match-making quite as cordially as you do;
+but my days on earth are numbered, and I must speak before it is too
+late. When we were abroad I thought there never would be occasion; when
+we returned home I thought so, too. Rupert, I have ceased to think so
+since May Everhard's return."</p>
+
+<p>The young man's face flushed suddenly and hotly, but he made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>"How any man in his senses could possibly prefer May to Aileen, is a
+mystery I cannot solve; but then these things puzzle the wisest of us at
+times. Mind, my boy, I don't really say you <i>do</i> prefer May&mdash;I should be
+very unhappy if I thought so. I know&mdash;I am certain you love Aileen best;
+and I am equally certain she is a thousand times better suited to you.
+Then, as a man of honor, you owe it to her. You have paid Miss Jocyln
+such attentions as no honorable gentleman should pay any lady, save the
+one he means to make his wife."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford's son rose abruptly, and stood leaning against the mantle,
+looking into the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Rupert, tell me truly, if May Everard had not come here, would you not
+ere this have asked Aileen to be your wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;no&mdash;I don't know! Mother!" the young man cried, impatiently, "what
+has May Everard done that you should treat her like this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing; and I love her dearly, and you know it. But she is not suited
+to you&mdash;she is not the woman you should marry."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Rupert laughed&mdash;a hard strident laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"I think Miss Everard is much of your opinion, my lady. You might have
+spared yourself all these fears and perplexities, for the simple reason
+that I should have been refused had I asked."</p>
+
+<p>"Rupert?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, mother mine, no need to wear that frightened face. I haven't asked
+Miss Everard in so many words to marry me, and she hasn't declined with
+thanks; but she would if I did. I saw enough to-day of that."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you don't care for Aileen?" with a look of blank consternation.</p>
+
+<p>"I care for her very much, mother; and I haven't owned to being
+absolutely in love with our pretty little May. Perhaps I care for one as
+much as the other; perhaps I know in my inmost heart she is the one I
+should marry. That is, if she will marry me."</p>
+
+<p>"You owe it to her to ask her."</p>
+
+<p>"Do I? Very likely; and it would make you happy, my mother?"</p>
+
+<p>He came and bent over her again, smiling down in her wan, anxious face.</p>
+
+<p>"More happy than anything else in this world, Rupert!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then consider it an accomplished fact. Before the sun sets to-day
+Aileen Jocyln shall say yes or no to your son."</p>
+
+<p>He bent and kissed her; then, without waiting for her to speak, wheeled
+round and strode out of the apartment.</p>
+
+<p>"There is nothing like striking whilst the iron is hot," said the young
+man to himself, with a grim sort of smile, as he ran down-stairs.</p>
+
+<p>Loitering on the lawn, he encountered May Everard, still in her
+riding-habit, surrounded by three or four poodle-dogs.</p>
+
+<p>"On the wing again, Rupert? Is it for mamma? She is not worse?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; I am going to Jocyln Hall. Perhaps I shall fetch Aileen back."</p>
+
+<p>May's turquoise blue eyes were lifted with a sudden luminous,
+intelligent flash to his face.</p>
+
+<p>"God speed you! You will certainly fetch Aileen back!"</p>
+
+<p>She held out her hand with a smile that told him she knew all as plainly
+as he knew it himself.</p>
+
+<p>"You have my best wishes, Rupert, and don't linger; I want to
+congratulate Aileen."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Rupert's response to these good wishes was very brief and curt. Miss
+Everard watched him mount and ride off, with a mischievous little smile
+rippling round her rosy lips.</p>
+
+<p>"My lady has been giving the idol of her existence a caudle
+lecture&mdash;subject, matrimony," mused Miss Everard, sauntering lazily
+along in the midst of her little dogs: "and really it is high time, if
+she means to have Aileen for a daughter-in-law, for the heir of Thetford
+Towers is rather doubtful that he is not falling in love with me; and
+Aileen is dreadfully jealous and disagreeable; and my lady is anxious
+and fidgeted to death about it; and&mdash;oh-h-h! good gracious!"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Everard stopped with a shrill, feminine shriek. She had loitered
+down to the gates, where a young man stood talking to the lodge-keeper,
+with a big Newfoundland dog gamboling ponderously about him. The big
+Newfoundland made an instant dash into Miss Everard's guard of honor,
+with one deep, bass bark, like distant thunder, and which effectually
+drowned the yelps of the poodles. May flew to the rescue, seizing the
+Newfoundland's collar and pulling him back with all the might of two
+little white hands.</p>
+
+<p>"You big, horrid brute!" cried May, with flashing eyes, "how dare you!
+Call off your dog, sir, this instant! Don't you see how he is
+frightening mine!"</p>
+
+<p>She turned imperiously to the Newfoundland's master, the bright eyes
+flashing, the pink cheeks aflame&mdash;very pretty, indeed, in her wrath.</p>
+
+<p>"Down, Hector!" called the young man, authoritatively; and Hector, like
+the well-trained animal he was, subsided instantly. "I beg your pardon,
+young lady! Hector, you stir at your peril, sir! I am very sorry he has
+alarmed you."</p>
+
+<p>He doffed his cap with careless grace, and made the angry little lady a
+courtly bow.</p>
+
+<p>"He didn't alarm me," replied May, testily; "he only alarmed my dogs.
+Why, dear me! how very odd!"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Everard, looking full at the young man, had started back with this
+exclamation and stared broadly. A tall, powerful-looking young fellow,
+rather dusty and travel-stained, but eminently gentlemanly, with frank
+blue eyes and profuse fair hair, and a handsome, candid face.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Miss May," struck in the lodge-keeper, "it is odd! I see it, too!
+He looks enough like Sir Noel, dead and gone, to be his own son!"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon," said May, becoming conscious of her wide stare,
+"but is your name Legard, and are you a friend of Sir Rupert Thetford?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, to both questions," with a smile that May liked. "You see the
+resemblance too, then. Sir Rupert used to speak of it. Is he at home?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not just now; but he will be very soon, and I know will be glad to see
+Mr. Legard. You had better come in and wait."</p>
+
+<p>"And Hector," said Mr. Legard. "I think I had better leave him behind,
+as I see him eying your guard of honor with anything but a friendly eye.
+I believe I have the pleasure of addressing Miss Everard? Oh!" laughing
+frankly at her surprised face, "Sir Rupert showed me a photograph of
+yours as a child. I have a good memory for faces, and knew you at once."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Everard and Mr. Legard fell easily into conversation at once, as if
+they had been old friends. Lady Thetford's ward was one of those people
+who form their likes and dislikes at first sight, and Mr. Legard's face
+would have been a pretty sure letter of recommendation to him the wide
+world over. May liked his looks; and then he was Sir Rupert's friend,
+and she was never over particular about social forms and customs; and so
+they dawdled about the grounds and through the leafy arcades, in the
+genial sunshine, talking about Sir Rupert and Rome, and art and artists,
+and the thousand and one things that turn up in conversation; and the
+moments slipped by, half hour followed half hour, until May jerked out
+her watch at last, in a sudden fit of recollection, and found, to her
+consternation, it was past two.</p>
+
+<p>"What will mamma say!" cried the young lady, aghast. "And Rupert; I dare
+say he's home to luncheon before this. Let us go back to the house, Mr.
+Legard. I had no idea it was half so late."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Legard laughed frankly.</p>
+
+<p>"The honesty of that speech is the highest flattery my conversational
+powers ever received, Miss Everard. I am very much obliged to you. Ah!
+by Jove! Sir Rupert himself!"</p>
+
+<p>For riding slowly up under the sunlit trees came the young baronet. As
+Mr. Legard spoke, his glance fell upon them, the young lady and
+gentleman advancing so confidentially with half a dozen curly poodles
+frisking about them. To say Sir Rupert stared would be a mild way of
+putting it&mdash;his eyes opened in wide wonder.</p>
+
+<p>"Guy Legard!"</p>
+
+<p>"Thetford! My dear Sir Rupert!"</p>
+
+<p>The baronet leaped off his horse, his eyes lighting, and shook hands
+with the artist, in a burst of heartiness very rare with him.</p>
+
+<p>"Where in the world did you drop from, and how under the sun did you
+come to be <i>like this</i> with May?"</p>
+
+<p>"I leave the explanation to Mr. Legard," said May, blushing a little
+under Sir Rupert's glance, "whilst I go and see mamma, only premising
+that luncheon hour is past, and you had better not linger."</p>
+
+<p>She tripped away, and the two young men followed more slowly into the
+house. Sir Rupert led his friend to his studio, and left him to inspect
+the pictures.</p>
+
+<p>"Whilst I speak a word to my mother," he said; "it will detain me hardly
+an instant."</p>
+
+<p>"All right!" said Mr. Legard, boyishly. "Don't hurry yourself on my
+account, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford lay where her son had left her&mdash;lay as if she had hardly
+stirred since. She looked up and half rose as he came in, her eyes
+painfully, intensely anxious. But his face, grave and quiet, told
+nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," she panted, her eyes glittering.</p>
+
+<p>"It is well, mother. Aileen Jocyln has promised to become my wife."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God!"</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford sunk back, her hands clasped tightly over her heart, its
+loud beating plainly audible. Her son looked down at her, his face
+keeping its steady gravity&mdash;none of the rapture of an accepted lover
+there.</p>
+
+<p>"You are content, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"More than content, Rupert. And you?"</p>
+
+<p>He smiled and, stooping, kissed the warm, pallid face. "I would do a
+great deal to make you happy, mother; but I would <i>not</i> ask a woman I
+did not love to be my wife. Be at rest; all is well with me. And now I
+must leave you, if you will not go down to luncheon."</p>
+
+<p>"I think not; I am not strong to-day. Is May waiting?"</p>
+
+<p>"More than May. A friend of mine has arrived, and will stay with us for
+a few weeks."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford's face had been flushed and eager, but at the last words
+it suddenly blanched.</p>
+
+<p>"A friend, Rupert! Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"You have heard me speak of him before," he said carelessly; "his name
+is Guy Legard."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+
+<h3>ON THE WEDDING EVE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The family at Thetford Towers were a good deal surprised, a few hours
+later that day, by the unexpected appearance of Lady Thetford at dinner.
+Wan as some spirit of the moonlight, she came softly in, just as they
+entered the dining-room, and her son presented his friend, Mr. Legard,
+at once.</p>
+
+<p>"His resemblance to the family will be the surest passport to your
+favor, mother mine," Sir Rupert said, gayly. "Mrs. Weymore met him just
+now, and recoiled with a shriek, as though she had seen a ghost.
+Extraordinary, isn't it&mdash;this chance resemblance?"</p>
+
+<p>"Extraordinary," Lady Thetford said, "but not at all unusual. Of course,
+Mr. Legard is not even remotely connected with the Thetford family?"</p>
+
+<p>She asked the question without looking at him. She kept her eyes fixed
+on her plate, for that frank, fair face before her was terrible to her,
+almost as a ghost. It was the days of her youth over again, and Sir
+Noel, her husband, once more by her side.</p>
+
+<p>"Not that I am aware of," Mr. Legard said, running his fingers through
+his abundant brown hair. "But I may be for all that. I am like the hero
+of a novel&mdash;a mysterious orphan&mdash;only, unfortunately, with no
+identifying strawberry mark on my arm. Who my parents were, or what my
+real name is, I know no more than I do of the biography of the man in
+the moon."</p>
+
+<p>There was a murmur of astonishment&mdash;May and Rupert vividly interested,
+Lady Thetford white as a dead woman her eyes averted, her hand trembling
+as if palsied.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mr. Legard, gravely, and a little sadly, "I stand as totally
+alone in this world as a human being can stand&mdash;father, mother, brother,
+sister, I never have known; a nameless, penniless waif, I was cast upon
+the world four-and-twenty years ago. Until the age of twelve I was
+called Guy Vyking; then the friends with whom I had lived left England
+for America, and a man&mdash;a painter, named Legard&mdash;took me and gave me his
+name. And there the romance comes in: a lady, a tall, elegant lady, too
+closely veiled for us to see her face, came to the poor home that was
+mine, paid those who had kept me from my infancy, and paid Legard for
+his future care of me. I have never seen her since; and I sometimes
+think," his voice failing, "that she may have been my mother."</p>
+
+<p>There was a sudden clash, and a momentary confusion. My lady, lifting
+her glass with that shaking hand, had let it fall, and it was shivered
+to atoms on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"And you never saw the lady afterward?" May asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Never. Legard received regular remittances, mailed, oddly enough, from
+your town here&mdash;Plymouth. The lady told him, if he ever had occasion to
+address her&mdash;which he never did have, that I know of&mdash;to address Madam
+Ada, Plymouth! He brought me up, educated me, taught me his art and
+died. I was old enough then to comprehend my position, and the first use
+I made of that knowledge was to return 'Madam Ada' her remittances, with
+a few sharp lines that effectually put an end to hers."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you never tried to ferret out the mystery of your birth and this
+Madam Ada?" inquired Sir Rupert.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Legard shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"No; why should I? I dare say I should have no reason to be proud of my
+parents if I did find them, and they evidently were not very proud of
+me. 'Where ignorance is bliss,' etc. If destiny has decreed it, I shall
+know, sooner or later; if destiny has not, then my puny efforts will be
+of no avail. But if presentiments mean anything, I shall one day know;
+and I have no doubt, if I searched Devonshire, I should find Madam Ada."</p>
+
+<p>May Everard started up with a cry, for Lady Thetford had fallen back in
+one of those sudden spasms to which she had lately become subject. In
+the universal consternation Guy Legard and his story were forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope what <i>I</i> said had nothing to do with this," he cried, aghast;
+and the one following so suddenly upon the other made the remark natural
+enough. But Sir Rupert turned upon him in haughty surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"What <i>you</i> said! Lady Thetford, unfortunately, has been subject to
+these attacks for the past two years, Mr. Legard. That will do, May; let
+me assist my mother to her room."</p>
+
+<p>May drew back. Lady Thetford was able to rise, ghastly and trembling,
+and, supported by her son's arm, walked from the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Lady Thetford's health is very delicate, I fear," Mr. Legard murmured,
+sympathetically. "I really thought for a moment my story-telling had
+occasioned her sudden illness."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Everard fixed a pair of big, shining eyes in solemn scrutiny on his
+face&mdash;that face so like the pictured one of Sir Noel Thetford.</p>
+
+<p>"A very natural supposition," thought the young lady; "so did <i>I</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"You never knew Sir Noel?" Guy Legard said, musingly; "but, of course,
+you did not. Sir Rupert has told me he died before he was born."</p>
+
+<p>"I never saw him," said May; "but those who have seen him in this
+house&mdash;our housekeeper, for instance&mdash;stand perfectly petrified at your
+extraordinary likeness to him. Mrs. Hilliard says you have given her a
+'turn' she never expects to get over."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Legard smiled, but was grave again directly.</p>
+
+<p>"It is odd&mdash;odd&mdash;very odd!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said May Everard, with a sagacious nod; "a great deal, too, to be
+a chance resemblance. Hush! here comes Rupert. Well, how have you left
+mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>"Better; Louise is with her. And now to finish dinner; I have an
+engagement for the evening."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Rupert was strangely silent and <i>distrait</i> all through dinner, a
+darkly thoughtful shadow glooming his ever pale face. A supposition had
+flashed across his mind that turned him hot and cold by turns&mdash;a
+supposition that was almost a certainty. This striking resemblance of
+the painter Legard to his dead father was no freak of nature, but a
+retributive Providence revealing the truth of his birth. It came back to
+his memory with painfully acute clearness that his mother had sunk down
+once before in a violent tremor and faintness at the mere sound of his
+name. Legard had spoken of a veiled lady&mdash;Madam Ada, Plymouth, her
+address. Could his mother&mdash;his&mdash;be that mysterious arbiter of his fate?
+The name&mdash;the place. Sir Rupert Thetford wrenched his thoughts, by a
+violent effort, away, shocked at himself.</p>
+
+<p>"It cannot be&mdash;it cannot!" he said to himself passionately. "I am mad to
+harbor such thoughts. It is a desecration of the memory of the dead, a
+treason to the living. But I wish Guy Legard had never come here."</p>
+
+<p>There was one other person at Thetford Towers strangely and strongly
+affected by Mr. Guy Legard, and that person, oddly enough, was Mrs.
+Weymore, the governess. Mrs. Weymore had never even seen the late Sir
+Noel that any one knew of, and yet she had recoiled with a shrill,
+feminine cry of utter consternation at sight of the young man.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see why you should get the fidgets about it, Mrs. Weymore,"
+Miss Everard remarked, with her great, bright eyes suspiciously keen;
+"you never knew Sir Noel."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Weymore sunk down on a lounge in a violent tremor and faintness.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, I beg your pardon. I&mdash;it seems strange, Oh, May!" with a
+sudden, sharp cry, losing self-control, "who <i>is</i> that young man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mr. Guy Legard, artist," answered May, composedly, the bright eyes
+still on the alert; "formerly&mdash;in 'boyhood's sunny hours,' you
+know&mdash;Master Guy. Let&mdash;me&mdash;see! Yes, Vyking."</p>
+
+<p>"Vyking!" with a spasmodic cry; and then Mrs. Weymore dropped her white
+face in her hands, trembling from head to foot.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, upon my word," Miss Everard said, addressing empty space, "this
+does cap the globe! The Mysteries of Udolpho were plain reading compared
+to Mr. Guy Vyking and the effect he produces upon the people. He's a
+very handsome young man, and a very agreeable young man; but I should
+never have suspected he possessed the power of throwing all the elderly
+ladies he meets into gasping fits. There's Lady Thetford: he was too
+much for her, and she had to be helped out of the dining-room; and
+here's Mrs. Weymore going into hysterics because he used to be called
+Guy Vyking. I thought my lady might be the veiled lady of his story; but
+now I think it must have been you."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Weymore looked up, her very lips white.</p>
+
+<p>"The veiled lady? What lady? May, tell me all you know of Mr. Vyking."</p>
+
+<p>"Not Vyking now&mdash;Legard," answered May; and there-upon the young lady
+detailed the scanty <i>resume</i> the artist had given them of his history.</p>
+
+<p>"And I'm very sure it isn't chance at all," concluded May Everard,
+transfixing the governess with an unwinking stare; "and Mr. Legard is as
+much a Thetford as Sir Rupert himself. I don't pretend to divination, of
+course, and I don't clearly see how it is; but it is, and you know it,
+Mrs. Weymore; and you could enlighten the young man, and so could my
+lady, if either of you chose."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Weymore turned suddenly and caught May's two hands in hers.</p>
+
+<p>"May, if you care for me, if you have any pity, don't speak of this. I
+<i>do</i> know&mdash;but I must have time. My head is in a whirl. Wait, wait, and
+don't tell Mr. Legard."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't," said May; "but it is all very strange and very mysterious,
+delightfully like a three-volume novel or a sensation play. I'm getting
+very much interested in the hero of the performance, and I'm afraid I
+shall be deplorably in love with him shortly if this sort of thing keeps
+on."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Legard himself took the matter much more coolly than any one else;
+smoked cigars philosophically, criticised Sir Rupert's pictures, did a
+little that way himself, played billiards with his host and chess with
+Miss Everard, rode with that young lady, walked with her, sang duets
+with her in a deep melodious bass, made himself fascinating, and took
+the world easy.</p>
+
+<p>"It is no use getting into a gale about these things," he said to Miss
+Everard when she wondered aloud at his constitutional phlegm; "the
+crooked things will straighten of themselves if we give them time. What
+is written is written. I know I shall find out all about myself one
+day&mdash;like little Paul Dombey, 'I feel it in my bones.'"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Legard was thrown a good deal upon Miss Everard's resources for
+amusement; for, of course, Sir Rupert's time was chiefly spent at Jocyln
+Hall, and Mr. Legard bore this with even greater serenity than the
+other. Miss Everard was a very charming little girl, with a laugh that
+was sweeter than the music of the spheres and hundreds of bewitching
+little ways; and Mr. Legard undertook to paint her portrait, and found
+it the most absorbing work of art he had ever undertaken. As for the
+young baronet spending his time at Jocyln Hall, they never missed him.
+His wooing sped on smoothest wings&mdash;Col. Jocyln almost as much pleased
+as my lady herself; and the course of true love in this case ran as
+smooth as heart could wish.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Jocyln, as a matter of course, was a great deal at Thetford Towers,
+and saw with evident gratification the growing intimacy of Mr. Legard
+and May. It would be an eminently suitable match, Miss Jocyln thought,
+only it was a pity so much mystery shrouded the gentleman's birth.
+Still, he was a gentleman, and, with his talents, no doubt would become
+an eminent artist; and it would be highly satisfactory to see May fix
+her erratic affections on somebody, and thus be doubly out of her&mdash;Miss
+Jocyln's&mdash;way.</p>
+
+<p>The wedding preparations were going briskly forward. There was no need
+of delay; all were anxious for the marriage&mdash;Lady Thetford more than
+anxious, on account of her declining health. The hurry to have the
+ceremony irrevocably over had grown to be something very like a
+monomania with her.</p>
+
+<p>"I feel that my days are numbered," she said, with impatience, to her
+son, "and I cannot rest in my grave, Rupert, until I see Aileen your
+wife."</p>
+
+<p>So Sir Rupert, more than anxious to please his mother, hastened on the
+wedding. An eminent physician, summoned down from London, confirmed my
+lady's own fears.</p>
+
+<p>"Her life hung by a thread," this gentleman said, confidentially to Sir
+Rupert, "the slightest excitement may snap it at any moment. Don't
+contradict her&mdash;let everything be as she wishes. Nothing can save her,
+but perfect quiet and repose may prolong her existence."</p>
+
+<p>The last week of September the wedding was to take place; and all was
+bustle and haste at Jocyln Hall. Mr. Legard was to stay for the wedding,
+at the express desire of Lady Thetford herself. She had seen him but
+very rarely since that first day, illness had compelled her to keep her
+room; but her interest in him was unabated, and she had sent for him to
+her apartment, and invited him to remain. And Mr. Legard, a good deal
+surprised, and a little flattered, consented at once.</p>
+
+<p>"Very kind of Lady Thetford, you know, Miss Everard," Mr. Legard said,
+sauntering into the room where she sat with her ex-governess&mdash;Mr. Legard
+and Miss Everard were growing highly confidential of late&mdash;"to take such
+an interest in an utter stranger as she does in me."</p>
+
+<p>May stole a glance from under her eyelashes at Mrs. Weymore; that lady
+sat nervous and scared-looking, and altogether uncomfortable, as she had
+a habit of doing in the young artist's presence.</p>
+
+<p>"Very," Miss Everard said, dryly. "You ought to feel highly
+complimented, Mr. Legard, for it's a sort of kindness her ladyship is
+extremely chary of to utter strangers. Rather odd, isn't it, Mrs.
+Weymore?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Weymore's reply was a distressed, beseeching look. Mr. Legard saw
+it, and opened very wide his handsome, Saxon eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh?" he said, "it doesn't mean anything, does it? Mrs. Weymore looks
+mysterious, and I'm so stupid about these things. Lady Thetford doesn't
+know anything about me, does she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not that <i>I</i> know of," May said, with significant emphasis on the
+personal pronoun.</p>
+
+<p>"Then Mrs. Weymore does! By Jove! I always thought Mrs. Weymore had an
+odd way of looking at me! And now, what is it?"</p>
+
+<p>He turned his fair, resolute face to that lady with a smile hard to
+resist.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't make much of a howling about my affairs, you know, Mrs.
+Weymore," he said; "but for all that, I am none the less interested in
+myself and my history. If you can open the mysteries a little you will
+be conferring a favor on me I can never repay. And I am positive from
+your look you can."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Weymore turned away, and covered her face with a sort of sob. The
+young lady and gentleman exchanged startled glances.</p>
+
+<p>"You can then?" Mr. Legard said, gravely, but growing very pale. "You
+know who I am?"</p>
+
+<p>To his boundless consternation Mrs. Weymore rose up and fell at his
+feet, seizing his hands and covering them with kisses.</p>
+
+<p>"I do! I do! I know who you are, and so shall you before this wedding
+takes place. But before I tell you I must speak to Lady Thetford."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Legard raised her up, his face as colorless as her own.</p>
+
+<p>"To Lady Thetford! What has Lady Thetford to do with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Everything! She knows who you are as well as I do. I must speak to her
+first."</p>
+
+<p>"Answer me one thing&mdash;is my name Vyking?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Pray, pray don't ask me any more questions. As soon as her ladyship
+is a little stronger, I will go to her and obtain her permission to
+speak. Keep what I have said a secret from Sir Rupert, and wait until
+then."</p>
+
+<p>She rose up to go, so haggard and deploring-looking, that neither strove
+to detain her. The young man stared blankly after her as she left the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>"At last!" he said, drawing a deep breath, "at last I shall know!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause; then May spoke in a fluttering little voice.</p>
+
+<p>"How very strange that Mrs. Weymore should know, of all persons in the
+world."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is Mrs. Weymore? How long has she been here? Tell me all you know
+of her, Miss Everard."</p>
+
+<p>"And that 'all' will be almost nothing. She came down from London as a
+nursery-governess to Rupert and me, a week or two after my arrival here,
+selected by the rector of St. Gosport. She was then what you see her
+now, a pale, subdued creature in widow's weeds, with the look of one who
+had seen trouble. I have known her so long, and always as such a white,
+still shadow, I suppose that is why it seems so odd."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Weymore kept altogether out of Mr. Legard's way for the next week
+or two. She avoided May also, as much as possible, and shrunk so
+palpably from any allusion to the past scene, that May good naturedly
+bided her time in silence, though almost as impatient as Mr. Legard
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>And whilst they waited the bridal eve came round, and Lady Thetford was
+much better, not able to quit her room, but strong enough to lie on a
+sofa and talk to her son and Col. Jocyln, with a flush on her cheek and
+sparkle in her eye&mdash;all unusual there.</p>
+
+<p>The marriage was to take place in the village church; and there was to
+follow a grand ceremonial of a wedding-breakfast; and then the happy
+pair were to start at once on their bridal-tour.</p>
+
+<p>"And I hope to see my boy return," Lady Thetford said, kissing him
+fondly. "I can hardly ask for more than that."</p>
+
+<p>Late in the afternoon of that eventful wedding-eve, the ex-governess
+sought out Guy Legard, for the first time of her own accord. She found
+him in the young baronet's studio, with May, putting the finishing
+touches to that young lady's portrait. He started up at sight of his
+visitor, vividly interested. Mrs. Weymore was paler even than usual, but
+with a look of deep, quiet determination on her face no one had ever
+seen there before.</p>
+
+<p>"You have come to keep your promise," the young man cried&mdash;"to tell me
+who I am?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have come to keep my promise," Mrs. Weymore answered; "but I must
+speak to my lady first. I wanted to tell you that, before you sleep
+to-night, you shall know."</p>
+
+<p>She left the studio, and the two sat there, breathless, expectant. Sir
+Rupert was dining at Jocyln Hall, Lady Thetford was alone in high
+spirits, and Mrs. Weymore was admitted at once.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder how long you must wait?" said May Everard.</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven knows! Not long, I hope, or I shall go mad with impatience."</p>
+
+<p>An hour passed&mdash;two&mdash;three, and still Mrs. Weymore was closeted with my
+lady, and still the pair in the studio waited.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+
+<h3>MRS. WEYMORE'S STORY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Lady Thetford sat up among her pillows and looked at her hired dependent
+with wide open eyes of astonishment. The pale, timid face of Mrs.
+Weymore wore a look altogether new.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen to your story! My dear Mrs. Weymore, what possible interest can
+your story have for me?"</p>
+
+<p>"More than you think, my lady. You are so much stronger to-day than
+usual, and Sir Rupert's marriage is so very near that I must speak now
+or never."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Rupert!" my lady gasped. "What has your story to do with Sir
+Rupert?"</p>
+
+<p>"You will hear," Mrs. Weymore said, very sadly. "Heaven knows I should
+have told you long ago; but it is a story few would care to tell. A
+cruel and shameful story of wrong and misery; for, my lady, I have been
+cruelly wronged by one who was once very near to you."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford turned ashen white.</p>
+
+<p>"Very near to me! Do you mean&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My lady, listen, and you shall hear. All those years that I have been
+with you, I have not been what I seemed. My name is not Weymore. My name
+is Thetford&mdash;as yours is."</p>
+
+<p>An awful terror had settled down on my lady's face. Her lips moved, but
+she did not speak. Her eyes were fixed on the sad, set face before her,
+with a wild, expectant stare.</p>
+
+<p>"I was a widow when I came to you," Mrs. Weymore went on to say, "but
+long before I had known that worst widowhood, desertion. I ran away from
+my happy home, from the kindest father and mother that ever lived; I ran
+away and was married and deserted before I was eighteen years old.</p>
+
+<p>"He came to our village, a remote place, my lady, with a local celebrity
+for its trout streams, and for nothing else. He came, the man whom I
+married, on a visit to the great house of the place. We had not the
+remotest connection with the house, or I might have known his real name.
+When I did know him it was as Mr. Noel&mdash;he told me himself, and I never
+thought of doubting it. I was as simple and confiding as it is possible
+for the simplest village girl to be, and all the handsome stranger told
+me was gospel truth; and my life only began, I thought, from the hour I
+saw him first.</p>
+
+<p>"I met him at the trout streams fishing, and alone. I had come to while
+the long, lazy hours under the trees. He spoke to me&mdash;the handsome
+stranger, whom I had seen riding through the village beside the squire,
+like a young prince; and I was only too pleased and flattered by his
+notice. It is many years ago, my lady, and Mr. Noel took a fancy to my
+pink-and-white face and fair curls, as fine gentlemen will. It was only
+fancy&mdash;never, at its best, love; or he would not have deserted me
+pitilessly as he did. I know it now; but then I took the tinsel for pure
+gold, and would as soon have doubted the Scripture as his lightest word.</p>
+
+<p>"My lady, it is a very old story, and very often told. We met by stealth
+and in secret; and weeks passed and I never learned he was other than
+what I knew him. I loved with my whole foolish, trusting heart, strongly
+and selfishly; and I was ready to give up home, and friends and
+parents&mdash;all the world for him. All the world, but not my good name, and
+he knew that; and, my lady, we were married&mdash;really and truly and
+honestly married, in a little church in Berkshire, in Windsor; and the
+marriage is recorded in the register of the church, and I have the
+marriage certificate here in my possession."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Weymore touched her bosom as she spoke, and looked with earnest,
+truthful eyes at Lady Thetford. But Lady Thetford's face was averted and
+not to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>"His fancy for me was as fleeting as all his fancies; but it was strong
+enough and reckless enough whilst it lasted to make him forget all
+consequences. For it was surely a reckless act for a gentleman, such as
+he was, to marry the daughter of a village schoolmaster.</p>
+
+<p>"There was but one witness to our marriage&mdash;my husband's servant&mdash;George
+Vyking. I never liked the man; he was crafty, and cunning, and
+treacherous, and ready for any deed of evil; but he was in his master's
+confidence, and took a house for us at Windsor and lived with us, and
+kept his master's secrets well."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Weymore paused, her hands fluttering in painful unrest. The averted
+face of Lady Thetford never turned, but a smothered voice bade her go
+on.</p>
+
+<p>"A year passed, my lady, and I still lived in the house at Windsor, but
+quite alone now. My punishment had begun very early; two or three months
+sufficed to weary my husband of his childish village girl, and make him
+thoroughly repent his folly. I saw it from the first&mdash;he never tried to
+hide it from me; his absence grew longer and longer, more and more
+frequent, until at last he ceased coming altogether. Vyking, the valet,
+came and went; and Vyking told me the truth&mdash;the hard, cruel, bitter
+truth, that I was never to see my husband more.</p>
+
+<p>"'It was the maddest act of a mad young man's life,' Vyking said to me,
+coolly, 'and he's repented of it, as I knew he would repent. You'll
+never see him again, mistress, and you needn't search for him, either.
+When you find last winter's snow, last autumn's partridges, then you may
+hope to find him.'</p>
+
+<p>"'But I am his wife,' I said; 'nothing can undo that&mdash;his lawful, wedded
+wife.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes,' said Vyking, 'his wife fast enough; but there's the law of
+divorce, and there's no witness but me alive, and you can do your best;
+and the best you can do is to take it easy and submit. He'll provide for
+you handsomely; and when he gets the divorce, if you like, I'll marry
+you myself.'</p>
+
+<p>"I had grown to expect some such revelation, I had been neglected so
+long. My lady, I don't speak of my feelings, my anguish and shame, and
+remorse and despair&mdash;I only tell you here simple facts. But in the days
+and weeks which followed, I suffered as I never can suffer again in this
+world.</p>
+
+<p>"I was held little better than a prisoner in the house at Windsor after
+that; and I think Vyking never gave up the hope that I would one day
+consent to marry him. More than once I tried to run away, to get on the
+track of my betrayer, but always to be met and foiled. I have gone down
+on my knees to that man Vyking, but I might as well have knelt to a
+statue of stone.</p>
+
+<p>"'I'll tell you what we'll do,' he said, 'we'll go to London. People are
+beginning to look and talk about here; there they know how to mind their
+own business.'</p>
+
+<p>"I consented readily enough. My one hope now was to find the man who had
+wronged me, and in London I thought I stood a better chance that at
+Windsor. We started, Vyking and I; but driving to the station we met
+with an accident, our horse ran away and I was thrown out; after that I
+hardly remember anything for a long time.</p>
+
+<p>"Weeks passed before I recovered. Then I was told my baby had been born
+and died. I listened in a sort of dull apathy; I had suffered so much
+that the sense of suffering was dulled and blunted. I knew Vyking well
+enough not to trust him or believe him; but I was powerless to act, and
+could only turn my face to the wall and pray to die.</p>
+
+<p>"But I grew strong, and Vyking took me to London, and left me in
+respectably-furnished lodgings. I might have escaped easily enough here,
+but the energy even to wish for freedom was gone; I sat all day long in
+a state of miserable, listless languor, heart-weary, heart-sick, worn
+out.</p>
+
+<p>"One day Vyking came to my rooms in a furious state of passion. He and
+his master had quarreled. I never knew about what; and Vyking had been
+ignominiously dismissed. The valet tore up and down my parlor in a
+towering passion.</p>
+
+<p>"'I'll make Sir Noel pay for it, or my name's not Vyking,' he cried. 'He
+thinks because he's married an heiress he can defy me now. But there's a
+law in this land to punish bigamy; and I'll have him up for bigamy the
+moment he's back from his wedding tour.'</p>
+
+<p>"I turned and looked at him, but very quietly, 'Sir Noel,' I said. 'Do
+you mean my husband?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I mean Miss Vandeleur's husband now,' said Vyking. '<i>You'll</i> never see
+him again, my girl. Yes, he's Sir Noel Thetford, of Thetford Towers,
+Devonshire; and you can go and call on his pretty new wife as soon as
+she comes home.'</p>
+
+<p>"I turned away and looked out of the window without a word. Vyking
+looked at me curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh! we've got over it, have we; and we're going to take it easy and
+not make a scene? Now that's what I call sensible. And you'll come
+forward and swear Sir Noel guilty of bigamy?"</p>
+
+<p>"'No,' I said, 'I never will.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You won't&mdash;and why not?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Never mind why. I don't think you would understand if I told you&mdash;only
+I won't.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Couldn't you be coaxed?'</p>
+
+<p>"'No.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Don't be too sure. Perhaps I could tell you something that might move
+you, quiet as you are. What if I told you your baby did not die that
+time, but was alive and well?'</p>
+
+<p>"I knew a scene was worse than useless with this man, tears and
+entreaties thrown away. I heard his last words and started to my feet
+with outstretched hands.</p>
+
+<p>"'Vyking, for the dear Lord's sake, have pity on a desolate woman, and
+tell me the truth.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I am telling you the truth. Your boy is alive and well, and I've
+christened him Guy&mdash;Guy Vyking. Don't you be scared&mdash;he's all safe; and
+the day you appear in court against Sir Noel, that day he shall be
+restored to you. Now don't you go and get excited, think it over, and
+let me know your decision when I come back.'</p>
+
+<p>"He left the room before I could answer, and I never saw Vyking again.
+The next day, reading the morning paper, I saw the arrest of a pair of
+house-breakers, and the name of the chief was George Vyking, late valet
+to Sir Noel Thetford. I tried to get to see him in prison, but failed.
+His trial came on, his sentence was transportation for ten years; and
+Vyking left England, carrying my secret with him.</p>
+
+<p>"I had something left to live for now&mdash;the thought of my child. But
+where was I to find him, where to look? I, who had not a penny in the
+wide world. If I had had the means, I would have come to Devonshire to
+seek out the man who had so basely wronged me; but as I was, I could as
+soon have gone to the antipodes. Oh! it was a bitter, bitter time, that
+long, hard struggle, with starvation&mdash;a time it chills my blood even now
+to look back upon.</p>
+
+<p>"I was still in London, battling with grim poverty, when, six months
+later, I read in the <i>Times</i> the awfully sudden death of Sir Noel
+Thetford, Baronet.</p>
+
+<p>"My lady, I am not speaking of the effect of that blow&mdash;I dare not to
+you, as deeply wronged as myself. You were with him in his dying
+moments, and surely he told you the truth then; surely he acknowledged
+the great wrong he had done you?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Weymore paused, and Lady Thetford turned her face, her ghastly,
+white face, for the first time, to answer.</p>
+
+<p>"He did&mdash;he told me all; I know your story to be true."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God! Oh, thank God! And he acknowledged his first marriage?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; the wrong he did you was venial to that which he did me&mdash;I, who
+never was his wife, never for one poor moment had a right to his name."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Weymore sunk down on her knees by the couch, and passionately
+kissed the lady's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"My lady! my lady! And you will forgive me for coming here? I did not
+know, when I answered Mr. Knight's advertisement, where I was coming;
+and when I did, I could not resist the temptation of looking on his son.
+Oh, my lady! you will forgive me, and bear witness to the truth of my
+story."</p>
+
+<p>"I will; I always meant to before I died. And that young man&mdash;that Guy
+Legard&mdash;you know he is your son?"</p>
+
+<p>"I knew it from the first. My lady, you will let me tell him at once,
+will you not? And Sir Rupert? Oh, my lady! he ought to know."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Thetford covered her face with a groan.</p>
+
+<p>"I promised his father on his death-bed to tell him long ago, to seek
+for his rightful heir&mdash;and see how I have kept my word. But I could
+not&mdash;I could not! It was not in human nature&mdash;not in such a nature as
+mine, wronged as I have been."</p>
+
+<p>"But now&mdash;oh, my dear lady! now you will?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, now, on the verge of the grave, I may surely speak. I dare not die
+with my promise unkept. This very night," Lady Thetford cried, sitting
+up, flushed and excited, "my boy shall know all&mdash;he shall not marry in
+ignorance of whom he really is. Aileen has the fortune of a princess;
+and Aileen will not love him less for the title he must lose. When he
+comes home, Mrs. Weymore, send him to me, and send your son with him,
+and I will tell them all."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>"THERE IS MANY A SLIP."</h3>
+
+
+<p>A room that was like a picture&mdash;a carpet of rose-buds gleaming through
+rich green moss, lounges piled with downy-silk pillows, a bed curtained
+in foamy lace, a pretty room&mdash;Aileen Jocyln's <i>chambre-a-coucher</i>, and
+looking like a picture herself, in a flowing morning-robe, the rich,
+dark hair falling heavy and unbound to her waist, Aileen Jocyln lay
+among piles of scarlet cushions, like some young Eastern Sultana.</p>
+
+<p>Lay and music with, oh! such an infinitely happy smile upon her
+exquisite face; mused, as happy youth, loving and beloved, upon its
+bridal-eve doth muse. Nay, on her bridal-day, for the dainty little
+French clock on the bracket was pointing its golden hands to three.</p>
+
+<p>The house was very still; all had retired late, busy with preparations
+for the morrow, and Miss Jocyln had but just dismissed her maid. Every
+one, probably, but herself, was asleep; and she, in her unutterable
+bliss, was too happy for slumber. She arose presently, walked to the
+window and looked out. The late setting moon still swung in the sky; the
+stars still spangled the cloudless blue, and shone serene on the purple
+bosom of the far-spreading sea; but in the east the first pale glimmer
+of the new day shone&mdash;her happy wedding day. The girl slid down on her
+knees, her hands clasped, her radiant face glorified with love and
+bliss, turned ecstatically, as some faithful follower of the prophet
+might, to that rising glory of the east.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" Aileen thought, gazing around over the dark, deep sea, the
+star-gemmed sky, and the green radiance and sweetness of the earth,
+"what a beautiful, blissful world it is, and I the happiest creature in
+it!"</p>
+
+<p>Kneeling there, with her face still turned to that luminous East, the
+blissful bride fell asleep; slept, and dreamed dreams as joyful as her
+waking thoughts, and no shadow of that sweeping cloud that was to
+blacken all her world so soon fell upon her.</p>
+
+<p>Hours passed, and still Aileen slept. Then came an imperative knock at
+her door&mdash;again and again, louder each time; and then Aileen started up,
+fully awake. Her room was flooded with sunshine, and countless birds
+sang their glorias in the swaying green gloom of the branches, and the
+ceaseless sea was all a-glitter with sparkling sun-light.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in," Miss Jocyln said. It was her maid, she thought&mdash;and she
+walked over to an arm-chair and composedly sat down.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened, and Col. Jocyln, not Fanchon, appeared, an open note in
+his hand, his face full of trouble.</p>
+
+<p>"Papa!" Aileen cried, starting up in alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"Bad news, my daughter&mdash;very bad! very sorrowful! Read that."</p>
+
+<p>The note was very brief, in a spidery, female hand.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Col. Jocyln</span>:&mdash;We are in the greatest trouble. Poor Lady
+Thetford died with awful suddenness this morning in one of
+those dreadful spasms. We are all nearly distracted. Rupert
+bears it better than any of us. Pray come over as soon as you
+can.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">May. Everard.</span>"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Aileen Jocyln sunk back in her seat, pale and trembling.</p>
+
+<p>"Dead! Oh, papa! papa!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is very sad, my dear, and very shocking and terribly unfortunate
+that it should have occurred just at this time. A postponed wedding is
+ever ominous of evil."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! pray, papa, don't think of that! Don't think of me! Poor Lady
+Thetford! Poor Rupert! You will go over at once, papa, will you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, my dear. And I will tell the servants, so that when our
+guests arrive you may not be disturbed. Since it was to be," muttered
+the Indian officer under his moustache. "I would give half my fortune
+that it had been one day later. A postponed marriage is the most ominous
+thing under the sun."</p>
+
+<p>He left the room, and Aileen sat with her hands clasped, and an
+unutterable awe overpowering every other feeling. She forgot her own
+disappointment in the awful mystery of sudden death. Her share of the
+trial was light&mdash;a year of waiting, more or less; what did it matter,
+since Rupert loved her unchangeably? but, poor Lady Aileen, remembering
+how much the dead woman had loved her, and how fondly she had welcomed
+her as a daughter, covered her face with her hands, and wept as she
+might have wept for her own mother.</p>
+
+<p>"I never knew a mother's love or care," Aileen thought; "and I was
+doubly happy in knowing I was to have one at last. And now&mdash;and now&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>It was a drearily long morning to the poor bride elect, sitting alone in
+her chamber. She heard the roll of carriages up the drive, the pause
+that ensued, and then their departure. She wondered how <i>he</i> bore it
+best of all, May had said; but, then, he was ever still and strong and
+self-restrained. She knew how dear that poor, ailing mother had ever
+been to him, and she knew how bitterly he would feel her loss.</p>
+
+<p>"They talk of presentiments," mused Miss Jocyln, walking wearily to and
+fro; "and see how happy and hopeful I was this morning, whilst she lay
+dead and he mourned. If I only dared go to him&mdash;my own Rupert!"</p>
+
+<p>It was late in the afternoon before Col. Jocyln returned. He strode
+straight to his daughter's presence, wearing a pale, fagged face.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, papa?" she asked, faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"My pale Aileen!" he said, kissing her fondly; "my poor, patient girl! I
+am sorry you must undergo this trial, and," knitting his brows, "such
+talk as it will make."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't think of me, papa&mdash;my share is surely the lightest. But Rupert&mdash;"
+wistfully faltering.</p>
+
+<p>"There's something odd about Rupert; he was very fond of his mother, and
+he takes this a great deal too quietly. He looks like a man slowly
+turning to stone, with a face white and stern; and he never asked for
+you. He sat there with folded arms and that petrified face, gazing on
+his dead, until it chilled my blood to look at him. There's something
+odd and unnatural in this frozen calm. And, oh! by-the-bye! I forgot to
+tell you the strangest thing&mdash;May Everard it was told me; that painter
+fellow&mdash;what's his name&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Legard, papa?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Legard. He turns out to be the son of Mrs. Weymore; they
+discovered it last night. He was there in the room, with the most dazed
+and mystified and altogether bewildered expression of countenance I ever
+saw a man wear, and May and Mrs. Weymore sat crying incessantly. I
+couldn't see what occasion there was for the governess and the painter
+there in that room of death, and I said so to Miss Everard. There's
+something mysterious in the matter, for her face flushed and she
+stammered something about startling family secrets that had come to
+light, and the over-excitement of which had hastened Lady Thetford's
+end. I don't like the look of things, and I'm altogether in the dark.
+That painter resembles the Thetford's a great deal too closely for the
+mere work of chance; and yet, if Mrs. Weymore is his mother, I don't see
+how there can be anything in <i>that</i>. It's odd&mdash;confoundedly odd!"</p>
+
+<p>Col. Jocyln rumbled on as he walked the floor, his brows knitted into a
+swarthy frown. His daughter sat and eyed him wistfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Did no one ask for me, papa? Am I not to go over?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Rupert didn't ask for you! May Everard did, and I promised to fetch
+you to-morrow. Aileen, things at Thetford Towers have a suspicious look
+to-day; I can't see the light yet, but I suspect something wrong. It may
+be the very best thing that could possibly happen, this postponed
+marriage; I shall make Sir Rupert clear matters up completely before my
+daughter becomes his wife."</p>
+
+<p>Col. Jocyln, according to promise, took his daughter to Thetford Towers
+next morning. With bated breath and beating heart and noiseless tread,
+Aileen Jocyln entered the house of mourning, which yesterday she had
+thought to enter a bride. Dark and still, and desolate it lay, the
+morning light shut out, unbroken silence everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>"And this is the end of earth, its glory and its bliss," Aileen thought
+as she followed her father slowly up-stairs, "the solemn wonder of the
+winding-sheet and the grave."</p>
+
+<p>There were two watchers in the dark room when they entered&mdash;May Everard,
+pale and quiet, and the young artist, Guy Legard. Even in that moment,
+Col. Jocyln could not repress a supercilious stare of wonder to behold
+the housekeeper's son in the death-chamber of Lady Thetford. And yet it
+seemed strangely his place, for it might have been one of those lusty
+old Thetfords, framed and glazed up-stairs, stepped out of the canvas
+and dressed in the fashion of the day.</p>
+
+<p>"Very bad tastes all the same," the proud old colonel thought, with a
+frown: "very bad taste on the part of Sir Rupert. I shall speak to him
+on the subject presently."</p>
+
+<p>He stood in silence beside his daughter, looking down at the marble
+face. May, shivering drearily in a large shawl, and looking like a wan
+little spirit, was speaking in whispers to Aileen.</p>
+
+<p>"We persuaded Rupert&mdash;Mr. Legard and I&mdash;to go and lie down; he has
+neither eaten nor slept since his mother died. Oh, Aileen! I am so sorry
+for you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" raising one tremulous hand and turning away; "she was as dear to
+me as my own mother could have been! Don't think of me."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we not see Sir Rupert?" the colonel asked. "I should like to,
+particularly."</p>
+
+<p>"I think not&mdash;unless you remain for some hours. He is completely worn
+out, poor fellow!"</p>
+
+<p>"How comes that young man here, Miss Everard?" nodding in the direction
+of Mr. Legard, who had withdrawn to a remote corner. "He may be a very
+especial friend of Sir Rupert's&mdash;but don't you think he presumes on that
+friendship?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Everard's eyes flashed angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir! I think nothing of the sort! Mr. Legard has a perfect right to
+be in this room, or any other room at Thetford Towers. It is by Rupert's
+particular request he remains!"</p>
+
+<p>The colonel frowned again, and turned his back upon the speaker.</p>
+
+<p>"Aileen," he said, haughtily, "as Sir Rupert is not visible, nor likely
+to be for some time, perhaps you had better not linger. To-morrow, after
+the funeral, I shall speak to him very seriously."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Jocyln arose. She would rather have lingered, but she saw her
+father's annoyed face and obeyed him immediately. She bent and kissed
+the cold, white face, awful with the dread majesty of death.</p>
+
+<p>"For the last time, my friend, my mother," she murmured, "until we meet
+in heaven."</p>
+
+<p>She drew her veil over her face to hide her falling tears, and silently
+followed the stern and displeased Indian officer down-stairs and out of
+the house. She looked back wistfully once at the gray, old ivy-grown
+facade; but who was to tell her of the weary, weary months and years
+that would pass before she crossed that stately threshold again?</p>
+
+<p>It was a very grand and imposing ceremonial, that burial of Lady
+Thetford; and side by side with the heir walked the unknown painter, Guy
+Legard. Col. Jocyln was not the only friend of the family shocked on
+this occasion. What could Sir Rupert mean? And what did Mr. Legard mean
+by looking ten times more like the old Thetford race than Sir Noel's own
+son and heir?</p>
+
+<p>It was a miserable day, this day of the funeral. There was a sky of lead
+hanging low like a pall, and it was almost dark in the rainy afternoon
+gloaming when Col. Jocyln and Sir Rupert Thetford stood alone before the
+village church. Lady Thetford slept with the rest of the name in the
+stony vaults; the fair-haired artist stood in the porch, and Sir Rupert,
+with a face wan and stern, and spectral, in the dying daylight, stood
+face to face with the colonel.</p>
+
+<p>"A private interview," the colonel was repeating; "most certainly, Sir
+Rupert. Will you come with me to Jocyln Hall? My daughter will wish to
+see you."</p>
+
+<p>The young man nodded, went back a moment to speak to Legard, and then
+followed the colonel into the carriage. The drive was a very silent
+one&mdash;a vague, chilling presentiment of impending evil on the Indian
+officer as he uneasily watched the young man who had so nearly been his
+son.</p>
+
+<p>Aileen Jocyln, roaming like a restless ghost through the lonely, lofty
+rooms, saw them alight, and came out to the hall to meet her betrothed.
+She held out both hands shyly, looking up, half in fear, in the rigid,
+death-white face of her lover.</p>
+
+<p>"Aileen!"</p>
+
+<p>He took the hands and held them fast a moment; then dropped them and
+turned to the colonel.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Col. Jocyln."</p>
+
+<p>The colonel led the way into the library. Sir Rupert paused a moment on
+the threshold to answer Aileen's pleading glance.</p>
+
+<p>"Only for a few moments, Aileen," he said, his eyes softening with
+infinite love; "in half an hour my fate shall be decided. Let that fate
+be what it may, I shall be true to you while life lasts."</p>
+
+<p>With these enigmatical words, he followed the colonel into the library,
+and the polished oaken door closed between him and Aileen.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>PARTED.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Half an hour had passed.</p>
+
+<p>Up and down the long drawing-room Aileen wandered aimlessly, oppressed
+with a dread of she knew not what, a prescience of evil, vague as it was
+terrible. The dark gloom of the rainy evening was not darker than that
+brooding shadow in her deep, dusky eyes.</p>
+
+<p>In the library Col. Jocyln stood facing his son-in-law elect, staring
+like a man bereft of his senses. The melancholy, half light coming
+through the oriel window by which he stood, fell full upon the face of
+Rupert Thetford, white and cold, and set as marble.</p>
+
+<p>"My God!" the Indian officer said, with wild eyes of terror and
+affright, "what is this you are telling me?"</p>
+
+<p>"The truth, Col. Jocyln&mdash;the simple truth. Would to Heaven I had known
+it years ago&mdash;this shameful story of wrong-doing and misery!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't comprehend&mdash;I can't comprehend this impossible tale, Sir
+Rupert."</p>
+
+<p>"That is a misnomer now, Col. Jocyln. I am no longer <i>Sir</i> Rupert."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to say you credit this wild story of a former marriage of
+Sir Noel's? Do you really believe your late governess to have been your
+father's wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"I believe it, colonel. I have facts and statements and dying words to
+prove it. On my father's death-bed he made my mother swear to tell the
+truth; to repair the wrong he had done; to seek out his son, concealed
+by his valet, Vyking, and restore him to his rights! My mother never,
+kept that promise&mdash;the cruel wrong done to herself was too bitter; and
+at my birth she resolved never to keep it. I should not atone for the
+sin of my father; his elder son should never deprive <i>her</i> child of his
+birthright. My poor mother! You know the cause of that mysterious
+trouble which fell upon her at my father's death, and which darkened her
+life to the last. Shame, remorse, anger&mdash;shame for herself&mdash;a wife only
+in name; remorse for her broken vow to the dead, and anger against that
+erring dead man."</p>
+
+<p>"But you told me she had hunted him up and provided for him," said the
+mystified colonel.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; she saw an advertisement in a London paper calling upon Vyking to
+take charge of the boy he had left twelve years before. Now, Vyking, the
+valet, had been transported for house-breaking long before that, and my
+mother answered the advertisement. There could be no doubt the child was
+the child Vyking had taken charge of&mdash;Sir Noel Thetford's rightful heir.
+My mother left him with the painter, Legard, with whom he had grew up,
+whose name he took, and he is now at Thetford Towers."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought the likeness meant something," muttered the colonel; "his
+paternity is plainly enough written in his face. And so," raising his
+voice, "Mrs. Weymore recognized her son. Really, your story runs like a
+melodrama, where the hero turns out to be a duke and his mother knows
+the strawberry mark on his arm. Well, sir, if Mrs. Weymore is Sir Noel's
+rightful widow, and Guy Legard his rightful son and heir&mdash;pray what are
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>The colorless face of the young man turned dark-red for an instant, then
+whiter than before.</p>
+
+<p>"My, mother was as truly and really Sir Noel's wife as women can be the
+wife of man in the sight of Heaven. The crime was his; the shame and
+suffering hers; the atonement mine. Sir Noel's elder son shall be Sir
+Noel's heir&mdash;I will play usurper no longer. To-morrow I leave St.
+Gosport; the day after, England&mdash;never, perhaps, to return."</p>
+
+<p>"You are mad," Col. Jocyln said, turning very pale; "you do not mean
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not mad, and I do mean it. I may be unfortunate; but, I pray God,
+never a villain! Right is right; my brother Guy is the rightful
+heir&mdash;not I!"</p>
+
+<p>"And Aileen?" Col. Jocyln's face turned dark and rigid as iron as he
+spoke his daughter's name.</p>
+
+<p>Rupert Thetford turned away his changing face, quite ghastly now.</p>
+
+<p>"It shall be as she says. Aileen is too noble and just herself not to
+honor me for doing right."</p>
+
+<p>"It shall be as I say," returned Col. Jocyln, with a voice that rang and
+an eye that flashed. "My daughter comes of a proud and stainless race,
+and never shall she mate with one less stainless. Hear me out, young
+man. It won't do to fire up&mdash;plain words are best suited to a plain
+case. All that has passed betwixt you and Miss Jocyln must be as if it
+had never been. The heir of Thetford Towers, honorably born, I consented
+she should marry; but, dearly as I love her, I would see her dead at my
+feet before she should mate with one who was nameless and impoverished.
+You said just now the atonement was yours&mdash;you said right; go, and never
+return."</p>
+
+<p>He pointed to the door; the young man, stonily still, took his hat.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you not permit your daughter, Col. Jocyln, to speak for herself?"
+he said, at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir. I know my daughter&mdash;my proud, high-spirited Aileen&mdash;and my
+answer is hers. I wish you good-night."</p>
+
+<p>He swung round abruptly, turning his back upon his visitor. Rupert
+Thetford, without one word, turned and walked out of the house.</p>
+
+<p>The bewildering rapidity of the shocks he had received had stunned
+him&mdash;he could not feel the pain now. There was a dull sense of aching
+torture over him from head to foot&mdash;but the acute edge was dulled; he
+walked along through the black night like a man drugged and stupefied.
+He was only conscious intensely of one thing&mdash;a wish to get away, never
+to set foot in St. Gosport again.</p>
+
+<p>Like one walking in his sleep, he reached Thetford Towers, his old home,
+every tree and stone of which was dear to him. He entered at once,
+passed into the drawing-room, and found Guy, the artist, sitting before
+the fire staring blankly into the coals, and May Everard roaming
+restlessly up and down, the firelight falling dully on her black robes
+and pale, tear-stained face. Both started at his entrance&mdash;all wet, and
+wild, and haggard; but neither spoke. There was that in his face which
+froze the words on their lips.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going away to-morrow," he said, abruptly, leaning against the
+mantle, and looking at them with weird, spectral eyes.</p>
+
+<p>May uttered a faint cry; Guy faced him almost fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>"Going away! What do you mean, Sir Rupert? We are going away together,
+if you like."</p>
+
+<p>"No; I go alone. You remain here; it is your place now."</p>
+
+<p>"Never!" cried the young artist&mdash;"never! I will go out and die like a
+dog, in a ditch, before I rob you of your birthright!"</p>
+
+<p>"You reverse matters," said Rupert Thetford; "it is I who have robbed
+you, unwittingly, for too many years. I promised my mother on her
+death-bed, as she promised my father on his, that you should have your
+right, and I will keep that promise. Guy, dear old fellow! don't let us
+quarrel, now that we are brothers, after being friends so long. Take
+what is your own; the world is all before me, and surely I am man enough
+to win my own way. Not one other word; you shall not come with me; you
+might as well talk to these stone walls and try to move them as to me.
+To-morrow I go, and go alone."</p>
+
+<p>"Alone!" It was May who breathlessly repeated the word.</p>
+
+<p>"Alone! All the ties that bound me here are broken; I go alone and
+single-handed to fight the battle of life. Guy, I have spoken to the
+rector about you&mdash;you will find him your friend and aider; and May is to
+make her home at the rectory. And now," turning suddenly and moving to
+the door, "as I start early to-morrow, I believe I'll retire early.
+Good-night."</p>
+
+<p>And then he was gone, and Guy and May were left staring at each other
+with blank faces.</p>
+
+<p>The storm of wind and rain sobbed itself out before midnight, and in the
+bluest of skies, heralded by banners of rosy clouds, rose up the sun
+next morning. Before that rising sun had gilded the tops of the tallest
+oaks in the park he, who had so lately called it all his own, had opened
+the heavy oaken door and passed from Thetford Towers, as home, forever.
+The house was very still&mdash;no one had risen; he had left a note to Guy,
+with a few brief, warm words of farewell.</p>
+
+<p>"Better so," he thought&mdash;"better so! He and May will be happy together,
+for I know he loves her and she him. The memory of my leave-taking shall
+never come to cloud their united lives."</p>
+
+<p>One last backward glance at the eastern windows turning to gold; at the
+sea blushing back the first glance of the day-king; at the waving trees
+and swelling meadows, and then he had passed down the avenue, out
+through the massive entrance-gates, and was gone.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+
+<h3>AFTER FIVE YEARS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Moonlight falling like a silvery veil over Venice&mdash;a crystal clear
+crescent in a purple sky shimmering on palace and prison, churches,
+squares and canals, on the gliding gondolas and the flitting forms
+passing like noiseless shadows to and fro.</p>
+
+<p>A young lady leaned from a window of a vast Venetian hotel, gazing
+thoughtfully at the silver-lighted landscape, so strange, so unreal, so
+dream-like to her unaccustomed eyes. A young lady, stately and tall,
+with a pale, proud face, and a statuesque sort of beauty that was
+perfect in its way. She was dressed in trailing robes of crape and
+bombazine, and the face, turned to the moonlight, was cold and still as
+marble.</p>
+
+<p>She turned her eyes from the moonlit canal, down which dark gondolas
+floated to the music of the gay gondolier's song; once, as an English
+voice in the piazza below sung a stave of a jingling barcarole&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Oh! gay we row where full tides flow!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And bear our bounding pinnace;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And leap along where song meets song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Across the waves of Venice."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The singer, a tall young man, with a florid face and yellow
+side-whiskers, an unmistakable son of the "right little, tight little"
+island, paused in his song, as another man, stepping through an open
+window, struck him an airy, sledge-hammer slap on the back.</p>
+
+<p>"I ought to know that voice," said the last comer.</p>
+
+<p>"Mortimer, my lad, how goes it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Stafford!" cried the singer, seizing the outstretched hand in a genuine
+English grip, "happy to meet you, old boy, in the land of romance! La
+Fabre told me you were coming, but who would look for you so soon! I
+thought you were doing Sorrento?"</p>
+
+<p>"Got tired of Sorrento," said Stafford, taking his arm for a walk
+up and down the piazza; "there's a fever there, too&mdash;quite an
+epidemic&mdash;malignant typhus. Discretion is the better part of valor where
+Sorrento fevers are concerned. I left."</p>
+
+<p>"When did you reach Venice?" asked Mortimer, lighting a cigar.</p>
+
+<p>"An hour ago; and now who's here? Any one I know!"</p>
+
+<p>"Lots. The Cholmonadeys, the Lythons, the Howards, of Leighwood; and,
+by-the-bye, they have with them the Marble Bride."</p>
+
+<p>"The which?" asked Mr. Stafford.</p>
+
+<p>"The Marble Bride, the Princess Frostina; otherwise Miss Aileen Jocyln,
+of Jocyln Hall Devonshire. You knew the old colonel, I think; he died
+over a year ago, you remember."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes! I remember. Is she here with the Howards, and as handsome as
+ever, no doubt?"</p>
+
+<p>"Handsome, to my mind, with an uplifted and unapproachable sort of
+beauty. A fellow might as soon love some bright particular star, etc.,
+as the fabulously wealthy heiress of all the Jocylns. She has no end of
+suitors&mdash;all the best men here bow at the shrine of the ice-cold Aileen,
+and all in vain."</p>
+
+<p>"You among the rest, my friend?" with a light laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"No, by Jove!" cried Mr. Mortimer; "that sort of thing&mdash;the marble
+style, you know&mdash;never was to my taste. I admire Miss Jocyln
+immensely&mdash;just as I do the moon up there, with no particular desire
+ever to be nearer."</p>
+
+<p>"What was that story I heard once, five years ago, about a broken
+engagement? Wasn't Thetford of that ilk the hero of the tale?&mdash;the
+romantic Thetford, who resigned his title and estate to a
+mysteriously-found elder brother, you know. The story ran through the
+papers and the clubs at the time like wildfire, and set the whole
+country talking, I remember. She was engaged to him, wasn't she, and
+broke off?"</p>
+
+<p>"So goes the story&mdash;but who knows? I recollect that odd affair perfectly
+well; it was like the melodramas on the sunny side of the Thames. I know
+the 'mysteriously-found elder brother,' too&mdash;very fine fellow, Sir Guy
+Thetford, and married to the prettiest little wife the sun shines on. I
+must say Rupert Thetford behaved wonderfully well in that unpleasant
+business; very few men would do as he did&mdash;they would, at least, have
+made a fight for the title and estates. By-the-way, I wonder whatever
+became of him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I left him at Sorrento," said Stafford, coolly.</p>
+
+<p>"The deuce you did! What was he doing there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Raving in the fever; so the people told me with whom he stopped. I just
+discovered he was in the place as I was about to leave it. He had fallen
+very low, I fancy; his pictures didn't sell, I suppose; he has been in
+the painting line since he ceased to be Sir Rupert, and the world has
+gone against him. Rather hard on him to lose fortune, title, home,
+bride, and all at one fell swoop. Some women there are who would go with
+their plighted husbands to beggary; but I suppose the lovely Aileen is
+not one of them."</p>
+
+<p>"And so you left him ill of the fever? Poor fellow!"</p>
+
+<p>"Dangerously ill."</p>
+
+<p>"And the people with whom he is will take very little care of him; he's
+as good as dead. Let us go in&mdash;I want to have a look at the latest
+English papers."</p>
+
+<p>The two men passed in, out of the moonlight, off the piazza, all
+unconscious that they had had a listener. The pale watcher in the
+trailing black robes, scarcely heeding them at first, had grown more and
+more absorbed in the careless conversation. She caught her breath in
+quick, short gasps, the dark eyes dilated, the slender hands pressed
+themselves tight over the throbbing heart. As they went in off the
+balcony she slid from her seat and held up her clasped hands to the
+luminous night sky.</p>
+
+<p>"Hear me, oh, God!" the white lips cried&mdash;"I, who have aided in wrecking
+a noble heart&mdash;hear me, and help me to keep my vow! I offer my whole
+life in atonement for the cruel and wicked past. If he dies, I shall go
+to my grave his unwedded widow. If he lives&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Her voice faltered and died out, her face drooped forward on the
+window-sill, and the flashing moonlight fell like a benediction on the
+bowed young head.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>AT SORRENTO.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The low light in the western sky was dying out; the bay of Naples lay
+rosy in the haze of the dying day; and on this scene an invalid, looking
+from a window high up on the sea-washed cliff at Sorrento, gazed
+languidly.</p>
+
+<p>For he was surely an invalid who sat in that window chair and gazed at
+the wondrous Italian sea and that lovely Italian sky; surely an invalid,
+with that pallid face, those spectral, hollow eyes, those sunken cheeks,
+those bloodless lips; surely an invalid, and one but lately risen from
+the very gates of death&mdash;a pale shadow, worn and weak as a child.</p>
+
+<p>As he sits there, where he has sat for hours, lonely and alone, the door
+opens, and an English face looks in&mdash;the face of an Englishman of the
+lower classes.</p>
+
+<p>"A visitor for you, sir&mdash;just come, and a-foot; a lady, sir. She will
+not give her name, but wishes to see you most particular, if you
+please."</p>
+
+<p>"A lady! To see me?"</p>
+
+<p>The invalid opens his great, dark eyes in wonder as he speaks.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir; an English lady, sir, dressed in black, and a wearing of a
+thick veil. She asked for Mr. Rupert Thetford as soon as she see me, as
+plain, as plain, sir&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The young man in the chair started, half rose, and then sank back&mdash;a
+wild, eager light lit in the hollow eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Let her come in; I will see her!"</p>
+
+<p>The man disappeared; there was an instant's pause, then a tall, slender
+figure, draped and veiled in black, entered alone.</p>
+
+<p>The visitor stood still. Once more the invalid attempted to rise, once
+more his strength failed him. The lady threw back her veil with a sudden
+motion.</p>
+
+<p>"My God, Aileen!"</p>
+
+<p>"Rupert!"</p>
+
+<p>She was on her knees before him, lifting her suppliant hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me! Forgive me! I have seemed the most heartless and cruel of
+women! But I, too, have suffered. I am base and unworthy; but, oh!
+forgive me, if you can!"</p>
+
+<p>The old love, stronger than death, shone in her eyes, plead in her
+passionate, sobbing voice, and went to his very heart.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been so wretched, so wretched all these miserable years! Whilst
+my father lived I would not disobey his stern command that I was never
+to attempt to see or hear from you, and at his death I could not. You
+seemed lost to me and the world. Only by the merest accident I heard in
+Venice you were here, and ill&mdash;dying. I lost no time, I came hither at
+once, hoping against hope to find you alive. Thank God I did come! Oh,
+Rupert! Rupert! for the sake of the past forgive me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive you!" and he tried to raise her. "Aileen&mdash;darling!"</p>
+
+<p>His weak arms encircled her, and the pale lips pressed passionate kisses
+on the tear-wet face.</p>
+
+<p>So, whilst the red glory of the sunset lay on the sea, and till the
+silver stars spangled the sky, the reunited lovers sat in the soft haze
+as Adam and Eve may have in the loveliness of Eden.</p>
+
+<p>"How long since you left England?" Rupert asked at length.</p>
+
+<p>"Two years ago; poor papa died in the south of France. You mustn't blame
+him too much, Rupert."</p>
+
+<p>"My dearest, we will talk of blaming no one. And Guy and May are
+married? I knew they would be."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you? I was so surprised when I read it in the <i>Times</i>; for you know
+May and I never corresponded&mdash;she was frantically angry with me. Do they
+know you are here?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; I rarely write, and I am constantly moving about; but I know Guy is
+very much beloved in St. Gosport. We will go back to England one of
+these days, my darling, and give them the greatest surprise they have
+received since Sir Guy Thetford learned who he really was."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled as he said it&mdash;the old bright smile she remembered so well.
+Tears of joy filled the beautiful, upturned eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"And you will go back? Oh, Rupert! it needed but this to complete my
+happiness!"</p>
+
+<p>He drew her closer, and then there was a long, delicious silence, whilst
+they watched together the late-rising moon climbing the misty hills
+above Castlemare.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>AT HOME.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Another sunset, red and gorgeous, over swelling English meadows, waving
+trees, and grassy terrace, lighting up with its crimson radiance the
+gray forest of Thetford Towers.</p>
+
+<p>In the pretty, airy summer drawing-room, this red sunset streams through
+open western windows, kindling everything into living light. It falls on
+the bright-haired, girlish figure, dressed in floating white, seated in
+an arm-chair in the center of the room: too childish looking, you might
+fancy, at first sight, to be mamma to that fat baby she holds in her
+lap; but she is not a bit too childish. And that is papa, tall and
+handsome and happy, who leans over the chair and looks as men do look on
+what is the apple of their eye and the pride of their heart.</p>
+
+<p>"It is high time baby was christened, Guy," Lady Thetford&mdash;for, of
+course, Lady Thetford it is&mdash;was saying; "and, do you know, I'm really
+at a loss for a name. You won't let me call him Guy, and I shan't call
+him Noel&mdash;and so what is it to be?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rupert, of course," Sir Guy suggests; and little Lady Thetford pouts.</p>
+
+<p>"He doesn't deserve the compliment. Shabby fellow! To keep wandering
+about the world as he does, and never to answer one's letter; and I sent
+him half a ream last time, if I sent him a sheet, telling all about
+baby, and asking him to come and be godfather, and coaxing him with the
+eloquence of a female Demos&mdash;what-you-may-call-him. And to think it
+should be all of no use! To think of not receiving a line in return! It
+is using me shamefully, and I don't believe I will call baby Rupert."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes you will, my dear! Well, Smithers, what is it?"</p>
+
+<p>For Mr. Smithers, the butler, stood in the doorway, with a very pale and
+startled face.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a gentleman&mdash;leastways a lady&mdash;leastways a lady and gentleman. Oh!
+here they come theirselves!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smithers retired precipitately, still pale and startled of visage,
+as a gentleman, with a lady on his arm, stood before Sir Guy and Lady
+Thetford.</p>
+
+<p>There was a cry, a half shout, from the young baronet, a wild shriek
+from the lady. She sprung to her feet, and, nearly dropped the precious
+baby.</p>
+
+<p>"Rupert! Aileen!"</p>
+
+<p>She never got any further&mdash;this impetuous little Lady Thetford; for she
+was kissing first one, then the other, crying and laughing and talking,
+all in one breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what a surprise this is! Oh, Rupert! I'm so glad, so glad to see
+you again! Oh, Aileen! I never, never hoped for this! Oh! good gracious,
+Guy, did you ever!"</p>
+
+<p>But Guy was wringing his brother's hand, with bright tears standing in
+his eyes, and quite unable to reply.</p>
+
+<p>"And this is the baby, May? The wonderful baby you wrote me so much
+about," Mr. Rupert Thetford said. "A noble little fellow, upon my
+word&mdash;and a Thetford from top to toe. Am I in season to be godfather!"</p>
+
+<p>"Just in time; and we are going to call it Rupert; and I was just
+scolding dreadfully because you hadn't answered my letter, never
+dreaming that you were coming to answer in person! I would as soon have
+expected the man in the moon. And Aileen, too! And to think you should
+be married, after all! Oh, gracious me! Do sit down and tell me all
+about it!"</p>
+
+<p>It was such a delightful evening, so like old times, and May in the
+possession of a baby, that Rupert and Aileen nearly went delirious with
+delight.</p>
+
+<p>"And you are going to remain in England?" Sir Guy eagerly asked, when he
+had heard a resume of those past five years. "Going to reside at Jocyln
+Hall?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; and be neighbors, if you will let us."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I am so glad!"</p>
+
+<p>"I promised Aileen; and now&mdash;now I am willing to be at home in England,"
+and he looked fondly at his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"It is just like a fairy-tale," said May.</p>
+
+<p>"We haven't yet been to Jocyln Hall. We came at once here, to see this
+prodigy of babies&mdash;my wonderful little namesake."</p>
+
+<p>Very late that night, when the reunited friends sought their chambers,
+May lifted her golden head off the pillow, and looked at her husband
+entering the room.</p>
+
+<p>"It's so very odd, Guy," slowly and drowsily, "to think that, after all,
+a <i>Rupert Thetford</i> should be <span class="smcap">Sir Noel's Heir</span>."</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIR NOEL'S HEIR***</p>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Sir Noel's Heir, by May Agnes Fleming
+
+
+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: Sir Noel's Heir
+       A Novel
+
+
+Author: May Agnes Fleming
+
+
+
+Release Date: April 22, 2011  [eBook #35931]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIR NOEL'S HEIR***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Robert Cicconetti, Mary Meehan, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
+generously made available by Early Canadiana Online
+(http://www.canadiana.org)
+
+
+
+Note: Images of the original pages are available through
+      Early Canadiana Online. See
+      http://www.canadiana.org/ECO/ItemRecord/17010?id=991eb2932c65376b
+
+
+
+
+
+SIR NOEL'S HEIR.
+
+A Novel.
+
+by
+
+Mrs. MAY AGNES FLEMING
+
+Author of "Guy Earlscourt's Wife," "A Terrible Secret," "A Wonderful
+Woman," Etc.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+New York:
+The Federal Book Company,
+Publishers.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+   CHAPTER I.    SIR NOEL'S DEATH-BED.
+   CHAPTER II.   CAPT. EVERARD.
+   CHAPTER III.  "LITTLE MAY."
+   CHAPTER IV.   MRS. WEYMORE.
+   CHAPTER V.    A JOURNEY TO LONDON.
+   CHAPTER VI.   GUY.
+   CHAPTER VII.  COLONEL JOCYLN.
+   CHAPTER VIII. LADY THETFORD'S BALL.
+   CHAPTER IX.   GUY LEGARD.
+   CHAPTER X.    ASKING IN MARRIAGE.
+   CHAPTER XI.   ON THE WEDDING EVE.
+   CHAPTER XII.  MRS. WEYMORE'S STORY.
+   CHAPTER XIII. "THERE IS MANY A SLIP."
+   CHAPTER XIV.  PARTED.
+   CHAPTER XV.   AFTER FIVE YEARS.
+   CHAPTER XVI.  AT SORRENTO.
+   CHAPTER XVII. AT HOME.
+
+
+
+
+SIR NOEL'S HEIR.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+SIR NOEL'S DEATH-BED.
+
+
+The December night had closed in wet and wild around Thetford Towers. It
+stood down in the low ground, smothered in trees, a tall, gaunt, hoary
+pile of gray stone, all peaks, and gables and stacks of chimneys, and
+rook-infested turrets. A queer, massive, old house, built in the days of
+James the First, by Sir Hugo Thetford, the first baronet of the name,
+and as staunch and strong now as then.
+
+The December day had been overcast and gloomy, but the December night
+was stormy and wild. The wind worried and wailed through the tossing
+trees with whistling moans and shrieks that were desolately human, and
+made me think of the sobbing banshee of Irish legends. Far away the
+mighty voice of the stormy sea mingled its hoarse-bass, and the rain
+lashed the windows in long, slanting lines. A desolate night and a
+desolate scene without; more desolate still within, for on his bed, this
+tempestuous winter night, the last of the Thetford baronets lay dying.
+
+Through the driving wind and lashing rain a groom galloped along the
+high road to the village at break-neck speed. His errand was to Dr.
+Gale, the village surgeon, which gentleman he found just preparing to go
+to bed.
+
+"For God's sake, doctor!" cried the man, white as a sheet, "come with me
+at once! Sir Noel's killed!"
+
+Dr. Gale, albeit phlegmatic, staggered back, and stared at the speaker
+aghast.
+
+"What? Sir Noel killed?"
+
+"We're afraid so, doctor; none of us knows for certain sure, but he lies
+there like a dead man. Come quick, for the love of goodness, if you want
+to do any service!"
+
+"I'll be with you in five minutes," said the doctor, leaving the room to
+order his horse and don his hat and great coat.
+
+Dr. Gale was as good as his word. In less than ten minutes he and the
+groom were flying recklessly along to Thetford Tower.
+
+"How did it happen?" asked the doctor, hardly able to speak for the
+furious pace at which they were going. "I thought he was at Lady
+Stokestone's ball."
+
+"He did go," replied the groom; "leastways he took my lady there; but he
+said he had a friend to meet from London at the Royal George to-night,
+and he rode back. We don't, none of us, know how it happened; for a
+better or surer rider than Sir Noel there ain't in Devonshire; but Diana
+must have slipped and threw him. She came galloping in by herself about
+half an hour ago all blown; and me and three more set off to look for
+Sir Noel. We found him about twenty yards from the gates, lying on his
+face in the mud, and as stiff and cold as if he was dead."
+
+"And you brought him home and came for me?"
+
+"Directly, sir. Some wanted to send word to my lady; but Mrs. Hilliard,
+she thought how you had best see him first, sir, so's we'd know what
+danger he was really in before alarming her ladyship."
+
+"Quite right, William. Let us trust it may not be serious. Had Sir Noel
+been--I mean, I suppose he had been dining?"
+
+"Well, doctor," said William, "Arneaud, that's his _valet de chambre_,
+you know, said he thought he had taken more wine than was prudent going
+to Lady Stokestone's ball, which her ladyship is very particular about
+such, you know, sir."
+
+"Ah! that accounts," said the doctor, thoughtfully; "and now William, my
+man, don't let's talk any more, for I feel completely blown already."
+
+Ten minutes' sharp riding brought them to the great entrance gates of
+Thetford Towers. An old woman came out of a little lodge, built in the
+huge masonry, to admit them, and they dashed up the long winding avenue
+under the surging oaks and chestnuts. Five minutes more and Dr. Gale was
+running up a polished staircase of black, slippery oak, down an equally
+wide and black and slippery passage, and into the chamber where Sir Noel
+lay.
+
+A grand and stately chamber, lofty, dark and wainscoted, where the wax
+candles made luminous clouds in the darkness, and the wood-fire on the
+marble hearth failed to give heat. The oak floor was overlaid with
+Persian rugs; the windows were draped in green velvet and the chairs
+were upholstered in the same. Near the center of the apartment stood the
+bed, tall, broad, quaintly carved, curtained in green velvet, and on it,
+cold and lifeless, lay the wounded man. Mrs. Hilliard, the housekeeper,
+sat beside him, and Arneaud, the Swiss valet, with a frightened face,
+stood near the fire.
+
+"Very shocking business this, Mrs. Hilliard," said the doctor, removing
+his hat and gloves--"very shocking. How is he? Any signs of
+consciousness yet?"
+
+"None whatever, sir," replied the housekeeper, rising. "I am so thankful
+you have come. We, none of us, know what to do for him, and it is
+dreadful to see him lying there like that."
+
+She moved away, leaving the doctor to his examination. Ten minutes,
+fifteen, twenty passed, then Dr. Gale turned to her with a very pale,
+grave face.
+
+"It is too late, Mrs. Hilliard. Sir Noel is a dead man!"
+
+"Dead?" repeated Mrs. Hilliard, trembling and holding by a chair. "Oh,
+my lady! my lady!"
+
+"I am going to bleed him," said the doctor, "to restore consciousness.
+He may last until morning. Send for Lady Thetford at once."
+
+Arneaud started up. Mrs. Hilliard looked at him, wringing her hands.
+
+"Break it gently, Arneaud. Oh, my lady! my dear lady! So young and so
+pretty--and only married five months!"
+
+The Swiss valet left the room. Dr. Gale got out his lancet, and desired
+Mrs. Hilliard to hold the basin. At first the blood refused to flow--but
+presently it came in a little, feeble stream. The closed eyelids
+fluttered; there was a restless movement and Sir Noel Thetford opened
+his eyes in this mortal life once more. He looked first at the doctor,
+grave and pale, then at the housekeeper, sobbing on her knees by the
+bed. He was a young man of seven-and-twenty, fair and handsome, as it
+was in the nature of the Thetfords to be.
+
+"What is it?" he faintly asked. "What is the matter?"
+
+"You are hurt, Sir Noel," the doctor answered, sadly; "you have been
+thrown from your horse. Don't attempt to move--you are not able."
+
+"I remember--I remember," said the young man, a gleam of recollection
+lighting up his ghastly face. "Diana slipped, and I was thrown. How long
+ago is that?"
+
+"About an hour."
+
+"And I am hurt? Badly."
+
+He fixed his eyes with a powerful lock on the doctor's face, and that
+good man shrunk away from the news he must tell.
+
+"Badly?" reiterated the young baronet, in a peremptory tone, that told
+all of his nature. "Ah! you won't speak, I see! I am, and I feel--I
+feel. Doctor, am I going to die?"
+
+He asked the question with a sudden wildness--a sudden horror of death,
+half starting up in bed. Still the doctor did not speak; still Mrs.
+Hilliard's suppressed sobs echoed in the stillness of the vast room.
+
+Sir Noel Thetford fell back on his pillow, a shadow as ghastly and awful
+as death itself lying on his face. But he was a brave man and the
+descendant of a fearless race; and except for one convulsive throe that
+shook him from head to foot, nothing told his horror of his sudden fate.
+There was a weird pause. Sir Noel lay staring straight at the oaken
+wall, his bloodless face awful in its intensity of hidden feeling. Rain
+and wind outside rose higher and higher, and beat clamorously at the
+windows; and still above them, mighty and terrible, rose the far-off
+voice of the ceaseless sea.
+
+The doctor was the first to speak, in hushed and awe-struck tones.
+
+"My dear Sir Noel, the time is short, and I can do little or nothing.
+Shall I send for the Rev. Mr. Knight?"
+
+The dying eyes turned upon him with a steady gaze.
+
+"How long have I to live? I want the truth."
+
+"Sir Noel, it is very hard, yet it must be Heaven's will. But a few
+hours, I fear."
+
+"So soon?" said the dying man. "I did not think----Send for Lady
+Thetford," he cried, wildly, half raising himself again--"send for Lady
+Thetford at once!"
+
+"We have sent for her," said the doctor; "she will be here very soon.
+But the clergyman, Sir Noel--the clergyman. Shall we not send for him?"
+
+"No!" said Sir Noel, sharply. "What do I want of a clergyman? Leave me,
+both of you. Stay, you can give me something, Gale, to keep up my
+strength to the last? I shall need it. Now go. I want to see no one but
+Lady Thetford."
+
+"My lady has come!" cried Mrs. Hilliard, starting to her feet; and at
+the same moment the door was opened by Arneaud, and a lady in a
+sparkling ball-dress swept in. She stood for a moment on the threshold,
+looking from face to face with a bewildered air.
+
+She was very young--scarcely twenty, and unmistakably beautiful. Taller
+than common, willowy and slight, with great, dark eyes, flowing dark
+curls, and a colorless olive skin. The darkly handsome face, with pride
+in every feature, was blanched now almost to the hue of the dying man's;
+but that glittering, bride-like figure, with its misty point-lace and
+blazing diamonds, seemed in strange contradiction to the idea of death.
+
+"My lady! my lady!" cried Mrs. Hilliard, with a suppressed sob, moving
+near her.
+
+The deep, dark eyes turned upon her for an instant, then wandered back
+to the bed; but she never moved.
+
+"Ada," said Sir Noel, faintly, "come here. The rest of you go. I want no
+one but my wife."
+
+The graceful figure in its shining robes and jewels, flitted over and
+dropped on its knees by his side. The other three quitted the room and
+closed the door. Husband and wife were alone with only death to
+overhear.
+
+"Ada, my poor girl, only five months a wife--it is very hard on you; but
+it seems I must go. I have a great deal to say to you, Ada--that I can't
+die without saying. I have been a villain, Ada--the greatest villain on
+earth to you."
+
+She had not spoken. She did not speak. She knelt beside him, white and
+still, looking and listening with strange calm. There was a sort of
+white horror in her face, but very little of the despairing grief one
+would naturally look for in the dying man's wife.
+
+"I don't ask you to forgive me, Ada--I have wronged you too deeply for
+that; but I loved you so dearly--so dearly! Oh, my God! what a lost and
+cruel wretch I have been."
+
+He lay panting and gasping for breath. There was a draught which Dr.
+Gale had left standing near, and he made a motion for it. She held it to
+his lips, and he drank; her hand was unsteady and spilled it, but still
+she never spoke.
+
+"I cannot speak loudly, Ada," he said, in a husky whisper, "my strength
+seems to grow less every moment; but I want you to promise me before I
+begin my story that you will do what I ask. Promise! promise!"
+
+He grasped her wrist and glared at her almost fiercely.
+
+"Promise!" he reiterated. "Promise! promise!"
+
+"I promise," she said, with white lips.
+
+"May Heaven deal with you, Ada Thetford, as you keep that promise.
+Listen now."
+
+The wild night wore on. The cries of the wind in the trees grew louder
+and wilder and more desolate. The rain beat and beat against the
+curtained glass; the candles grettered and flared; and the wood-fire
+flickered and died out.
+
+And still, long after the midnight hour had tolled, Ada, Lady Thetford,
+in her lace and silk and jewels, knelt beside her young husband, and
+listened to the dark and shameful story he had to tell. She never once
+faltered, she never spoke or stirred; but her face was whiter than her
+dress, and her great dark eyes dilated with a horror too intense for
+words.
+
+The voice of the dying man sank lower and lower--it fell to a dull,
+choking whisper at last.
+
+"You have heard all," he said huskily.
+
+"All?"
+
+The word dropped from her lips like ice--the frozen look of blank horror
+never left her face.
+
+"And you will keep your promise?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"God bless you! I can die now! Oh, Ada! I cannot ask you to forgive me;
+but I love you so much--so much! Kiss me once, Ada, before I go."
+
+His voice failed even with the words. Lady Thetford bent down and
+kissed him, but her lips were as cold and white as his own.
+
+They were the last words Sir Noel Thetford ever spoke. The restless sea
+was sullenly ebbing, and the soul of the man was floating away with it.
+The gray, chill light of a new day was dawning over the Devonshire
+fields, rainy and raw, and with its first pale ray the soul of Noel
+Thetford, baronet, left the earth forever.
+
+An hour later, Mrs. Hilliard and Dr. Gale ventured to enter. They had
+rapped again and again; but there had been no response, and alarmed they
+had come in. Stark and rigid already lay what was mortal of the Lord of
+Thetford Towers; and still on her knees, with that frozen look on her
+face, knelt his living wife.
+
+"My lady! my lady!" cried Mrs. Hilliard, her tears falling like rain.
+"Oh! my dear lady, come away!"
+
+She looked up; then again at the marble form on the bed, and without a
+word or cry, slipped back in the old housekeeper's arms in a dead faint.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+CAPT. EVERARD.
+
+
+It was a very grand and stately ceremonial, that funeral procession from
+Thetford Towers. A week after that stormy December night they laid Sir
+Noel Thetford in the family vault, where generation after generation of
+his race slept their last long sleep. The gentry for miles and miles
+around were there, and among them came the heir-at-law, the Rev. Horace
+Thetford, only an obscure country curate now, but failing male heirs to
+Sir Noel, successor to the Thetford estate and fifteen thousand a year.
+
+In a bedchamber, luxurious as wealth can make a room, lay Lady Thetford,
+dangerously ill. It was not a brain fever exactly, but something very
+like it into which she had fallen, coming out of the death-like swoon.
+It was all very sad and shocking--the sudden death of the gay and
+handsome young baronet, and the serious illness of his poor wife. The
+funeral oration of the Rev. Mr. Knight, rector of St. Gosport, from the
+text, "In the midst of life we are in death," was most eloquent and
+impressive, and women with tender hearts shed tears, and men listened
+with grave, sad faces. It was such a little while--only five short
+months--since the wedding-bells had rung, and there had been bonfires
+and feasting throughout the village; and Sir Noel, looking so proud and
+so happy, had driven up to the illuminated hall with his handsome bride.
+Only five months; and now--and now.
+
+The funeral was over and everybody had gone back home--everybody but the
+Rev. Horace Thetford, who lingered to see the result of my lady's
+illness, and if she died, to take possession of his estate. It was
+unutterably dismal in the dark, hushed old house, with Sir Noel's ghost
+seeming to haunt every room--very dismal and ghastly this waiting to
+step into dead people's shoes. But then there was fifteen thousand a
+year, and the finest place in Devonshire; and the Rev. Horace would have
+faced a whole regiment of ghosts and lived in a vault for that.
+
+But Lady Thetford did not die. Slowly but surely, the fever that had
+worn her to a shadow left her; and by-and-bye, when the early primroses
+peeped through the first blackened earth, she was able to come
+down-stairs--to come down feeble and frail and weak, colorless as death
+and as silent and cold.
+
+The Rev. Horace went back to Yorkshire, yet not entirely in despair.
+Female heirs could not inherit Thetford--he stood a chance yet; and the
+widow, not yet twenty, was left alone in the dreary old mansion. People
+were very sorry for her, and came to see her, and begged her to be
+resigned to her great loss; and Mr. Knight preached endless homilies on
+patience, and hope, and submission, and Lady Thetford listened to them
+just as if they had been talking Greek. She never spoke of her dead
+husband--she shivered at the mention of his name; but that night at his
+dying bed had changed her as never woman changed before. From a bright,
+ambitious, pleasure-loving girl, she had grown into a silent, haggard,
+hopeless woman. All the sunny spring days she sat by the window of her
+boudoir, gazing at the misty, boundless sea, pale and mute--dead in
+life.
+
+The friends who came to see her, and Mr. Knight, the rector, were a
+little puzzled by this abnormal case, but very sorry for the pale young
+widow, and disposed to think better of her than ever before. It must
+surely have been the vilest slander that she had not cared for her
+husband, that she had married him only for his wealth and title; and
+that young soldier--that captain of dragoons--must have been a myth. She
+might have been engaged to him, of course, before Sir Noel came, that
+seemed to be an undisputed fact; and she might have jilted him for a
+wealthier lover, that was all a common case. But she must have loved her
+husband very dearly, or she never would have been broken-hearted like
+this at his loss.
+
+Spring deepened into summer. The June roses in the flower-gardens of the
+Thetford were in rosy bloom, and my lady was ill again--very, very ill.
+There was an eminent physician down from London, and there was a frail
+little mite of babyhood lying among lace and flannel; and the eminent
+physician shook his head, and looked portentously grave as he glanced
+from the crib to the bed. Whiter than the pillows, whiter than snow,
+Ada, Lady Thetford, lay, hovering in the Valley of the Shadow of Death;
+that other feeble little life seemed flickering, too--it was so even a
+toss up between the great rival powers, Life and Death, that a straw
+might have turned the scale either way. So slight being that baby-hold
+of gasping breath, that Mr. Knight, in the absence of any higher
+authority, and in the unconsciousness of the mother, took it upon
+himself to baptize it. So a china bowl was brought, and Mrs. Hilliard
+held the bundle of flannel and long white robes, and the child was
+named--the name which the mother had said weeks ago it was to be called,
+if a boy--Rupert Noel Vandeleur Thetford; for it was a male heir, and
+the Rev. Horace's cake was dough.
+
+Days went by, weeks, months, and to the surprise of the eminent
+physician neither mother nor child died. Summer waned, winter returned;
+and the anniversary of Sir Noel's death came round, and my lady was able
+to walk down-stairs, shivering in the warm air under all her wraps. She
+had expressed no pleasure or thankfulness in her own safety, or that of
+her child. She had asked eagerly if it were a boy or a girl; and hearing
+its sex, had turned her face to the wall, and lay for hours and hours
+speechless and motionless. Yet it was very dear to her, too, by fits and
+starts as it were. She would hold it in her arms half a day, sometimes
+covering it with kisses, with jealous, passionate love, crying over it,
+and half smothering it with caresses; and then, again, in a fit of
+sullen apathy, would resign it to its nurse, and not ask to see it for
+hours. It was very strange and inexplicable, her conduct, altogether;
+more especially, as with her return to health came no return of
+cheerfulness and hope. The dark gloom that overshadowed her life seemed
+to settle into a chronic disease, rooted and incurable. She never went
+out; she returned no visits; she gave no invitations to those who came
+to repeat theirs. Gradually people fell off; they grew tired of that
+sullen coldness in which Lady Thetford wrapped herself as in a mantle,
+until Mr. Knight and Dr. Gale grew to be almost her only visitors.
+"Mariana, in the Moated Grange," never led a more solitary and dreary
+existence than the handsome young widow, who dwelt a recluse at Thetford
+Towers; for she was very handsome still, of a pale moonlit sort of
+beauty, the great, dark eyes, and abundant dark hair, making her fixed
+and changeless pallor all the more remarkable.
+
+Months and seasons went by. Summers followed winters, and Lady Thetford
+still buried herself alive in the gray old manor--and the little heir
+was six years old. A delicate child still, puny and sickly, and petted
+and spoiled, and indulged in every childish whim and caprice. His
+mother's image and idol--no look of the fair-haired, sanguine, blue-eyed
+Thetford sturdiness in his little, pinched, pale face, large, dark eyes,
+and crisp, black ringlets. The years had gone by like a slow dream; life
+was stagnant enough in St. Gosport, doubly stagnant at Thetford Towers,
+whose mistress rarely went abroad beyond her own gates, save when she
+took her little son out for an airing in the pony phaeton.
+
+She had taken him out for one of those airings on a July afternoon, when
+he had nearly accomplished his seventh year. They had driven seaward
+some miles from the manor-house, and Lady Thetford and her little boy
+had got out, and were strolling leisurely up and down the hot, white
+stands, while the groom waited with the pony-phaeton just within sight.
+
+The long July afternoon wore on. The sun that had blazed all day like a
+wheel of fire, dropped lower and lower into the crimson west. The wide
+sea shone red with the reflections of the lurid glory in the heavens,
+and the numberless waves glittered and flashed as if sown with stars. A
+faint, far-off breeze swept over the sea, salt and cold; and the
+fishermen's boats danced along with the red sunset glinting on their
+sails.
+
+Up and down, slowly and thoughtfully, the lady walked, her eyes fixed on
+the wide sea. As the rising breeze met her, she drew the scarlet shawl
+she wore over her black silk dress closer around her, and glanced at her
+boy. The little fellow was running over the sands, tossing pebbles into
+the surf, and hunting for shells; and her eyes left him and wandered
+once more to the lurid splendor of that sunset on the sea. It was very
+quiet here, with no living thing in sight but themselves; so the lady's
+start of astonishment was natural when, turning an abrupt angle in the
+path leading to the shore, she saw a man coming toward her over the
+sands. A tall, powerful-looking man of thirty, bronzed and handsome, and
+with an unmistakably military air, although in plain black clothes. The
+lady took a second look, then stood stock still, and gazed like one in a
+dream. The man approached, lifted his hat, and stood silent and grave
+before her.
+
+"Captain Everard!"
+
+"Yes, Lady Thetford--after eight years--Captain Everard again."
+
+The deep, strong voice suited the bronzed, grave face, and both had a
+peculiar power of their own. Lady Thetford, very, very pale, held out
+one fair jeweled hand.
+
+"Captain Everard, I am very glad to see you again."
+
+He bent over the little hand a moment, then dropped it, and stood
+looking at her silent.
+
+"I thought you were in India," she said, trying to be at ease. "When did
+you return?"
+
+"A month ago. My wife is dead. I, too, am widowed, Lady Thetford."
+
+"I am very sorry to hear it," she said, gravely. "Did she die in India?"
+
+"Yes; and I have come home with my little daughter."
+
+"Your daughter! Then she left a child?"
+
+"One. It is on her account I have come. The climate killed her mother. I
+had mercy on her daughter, and have brought her home."
+
+"I am sorry for your wife. Why did she remain in India?"
+
+"Because she preferred death to leaving me. She loved me, Lady
+Thetford!"
+
+His powerful eyes were on her face--that pale, beautiful face, into
+which the blood came for an instant at his words. She looked at him,
+then away over the darkening sea.
+
+"And you, my lady--you gained the desire to your heart, wealth, and a
+title? Let me hope they have made you a happy woman."
+
+"I am not happy!"
+
+"No? But you have been--you were while Sir Noel lived?"
+
+"My husband was very good to me, Captain Everard. His death was the
+greatest misfortune that could have befallen me."
+
+"But you are young, you are free, you are rich, you are beautiful. You
+may wear a coronet next time."
+
+His face and glance were so darkly grave, that the covert sneer was
+almost hidden. But she felt it.
+
+"I shall never marry again, Captain Everard."
+
+"Never? You surprise me! Six years--nay, seven, a widow, and with
+innumerable attractions. Oh, you cannot mean it!"
+
+She made a sudden, passionate gesture--looked at him, then away.
+
+"It is useless--worse than useless, folly, madness, to lift the veil
+from the irrevocable past. But don't you think, don't you, Lady
+Thetford, that you might have been equally happy if you had married
+_me_?"
+
+She made no reply. She stood gazing seaward, cold and still.
+
+"I was madly, insanely, absurdly in love with pretty Ada Vandeleur in
+those days, and I think I would have made her a good husband; better,
+however--forgive me--than I ever made my poor dead wife. But you were
+wise and ambitious, my pretty Ada, and bartered your black eyes and
+raven ringlets to a higher bidder. You jilted me in cold blood, poor
+love-sick devil that I was, and reigned resplendent as my Lady Thetford.
+Ah! you knew how to choose the better part, my pretty Ada!"
+
+"Captain Everard, I am sorry for the past--I have atoned, if suffering
+can atone. Have a little pity, and let me alone!"
+
+He stood and looked at her silently, gravely. Then said, in a voice deep
+and calm:
+
+"We are both free! Will you marry me now, Ada!"
+
+"I cannot!"
+
+"But I love you--I have always loved you. And you--I used to think you
+loved me!"
+
+He was strangely calm and passionless, voice and glance and face. But
+Lady Thetford had covered _her_ face, and was sobbing.
+
+"I did--I do--I always have! But I cannot marry you. I will love you all
+my life; but don't, _don't_ ask me to be your wife!"
+
+"As you please!" he said, in the same passionless voice. "I think it is
+best myself; for the George Everard of to-day is not the George Everard
+who loved you eight years ago. We would not be happy--I know that. Ada,
+is that your son?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I should like to look at him. Here, my little baronet! I want to see
+you."
+
+The boy, who had been looking curiously at the stranger, ran up at a
+sign from his mother. The tall captain lifted him in his arms and gazed
+in his small, thin face, with which his bright tartan plaid contrasted
+harshly.
+
+"He hasn't a look of the Thetfords. He is your own son, Ada. My little
+baronet, what is your name?"
+
+"Sir Rupert Thetford," answered the child, struggling to get free. "Let
+me go--I don't know you!"
+
+The captain set him down with a grim smile; and the boy clung to his
+mother's skirts, and eyed the tall stranger askance.
+
+"I want to go home, mamma! I'm tired and hungry."
+
+"Presently, dearest. Run to William, he has cake for you. Captain
+Everard, I shall be happy to have you at dinner."
+
+"Thanks; but I must decline. I go back to London to-night. I sail for
+India again in a week."
+
+"So soon! I thought you meant to remain."
+
+"Nothing is further from my intentions. I merely brought my little girl
+over to provide her a home; that is why I have troubled _you_. Will you
+do me this kindness, Lady Thetford?"
+
+"Take your little girl? Oh, most gladly--most willingly!"
+
+"Thanks! Her mother's people are French, and I know little about them;
+and, save yourself, I can claim friendship with few in England. She will
+be poor; I have settled on her all I am worth--some three hundred a
+year; and you, Lady Thetford, you can teach her, when she grows up, to
+catch a rich husband."
+
+She took no notice of the taunt; she looked only too happy to render him
+this service.
+
+"I am so pleased! She will be such a nice companion for Rupert. How old
+is she?"
+
+"Nearly four."
+
+"Is she here?"
+
+"No; she is in London. I will fetch her down in a day or two."
+
+"What do you call her?"
+
+"Mabel--after her mother. Then it is settled, Lady Thetford, I am to
+fetch her?"
+
+"I shall be delighted! But won't you dine with me?"
+
+"No. I must catch the evening train. Farewell, Lady Thetford, and many
+thanks! In three days I will be here again."
+
+He lifted his hat and walked away. Lady Thetford watched him out of
+sight, and then turned slowly, as she heard her little boy calling her
+with shrill impatience. The red sunset had faded out; the sea lay gray
+and cold under the twilight sky, and the evening breeze was chill.
+Changes in sky and sea and land told of coming night; and Lady Thetford,
+shivering slightly in the rising wind, hurried away to be driven home.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+"LITTLE MAY."
+
+
+On the evening of the third day after this interview, a fly from the
+railway drove up the long, winding avenue leading to the great front
+entrance of the Thetford mansion. A bronzed military gentleman, a nurse
+and a little girl, occupied the fly, and the gentleman's keen, dark eyes
+wandered searchingly around. Swelling meadows, velvety lawns, sloping
+terraces, waving trees, bright flower-gardens, quaint old fish-ponds,
+sparkling fountains, and a wooded park, with sprightly deer--that was
+what he saw, all bathed in the golden halo of the summer sunset. Massive
+and grand, the old house reared its gray head, half overgrown with ivy
+and climbing roses. Gaudy peacocks strutted on the terraces; a graceful
+gazelle flitted out for an instant amongst the trees to look at them and
+then fled in afright; and the barking of half a dozen mastiffs greeted
+their approach noisily.
+
+"A fine old place," thought Captain Everard. "My pretty Ada might have
+done worse. A grand old place for that puny child to inherit. The
+staunch old warrior-blood of the Thetfords is sadly adulterated in his
+pale veins, I fancy. Well, my little May, and how are you going to like
+all this?"
+
+The child, a bright-faced little creature, with great sparkling eyes and
+rose-bloom cheeks, was looking in delight at a distant terrace.
+
+"See, papa! See all the pretty peacocks! Look, Ellen," to the nurse,
+"three, four, five! Oh, how pretty!"
+
+"Then little May will like to live here, where she can see the pretty
+peacocks every day?"
+
+"And all the pretty flowers, and the water, and the little boy--where's
+the little boy, papa?"
+
+"In the house--you'll see him presently; but you must be very good,
+little May, and not pull his hair, and scratch his face, and poke your
+fingers in his eyes, like you used to do with Willie Brandon. Little May
+must learn to be good."
+
+Little May put one rosy finger in her mouth, and set her head on one
+side like a defiant canary. She was one of the prettiest little fairies
+imaginable, with her pale, flaxen curls, and sparkling light-gray eyes,
+and apple-blossom complexion; but she was evidently as much spoiled as
+little Sir Rupert Thetford himself.
+
+Lady Thetford sat in the long drawing-room, after her solitary dinner,
+and little Sir Rupert played with his rocking-horse and a pile of
+picture-books in a remote corner. The young widow lay back in the
+violet-velvet depths of a carved and gilded _fauteuil_, very simply
+dressed in black and crimson, but looking very fair and stately withal.
+She was watching her boy with a half smile on her face, when a footman
+entered with Captain Everard's card. Lady Thetford looked up eagerly.
+
+"Show Captain Everard up at once."
+
+The footman bowed and disappeared. Five minutes later, and the tall
+captain and his little daughter stood before her.
+
+"At last!" said Lady Thetford, rising and holding out her hand to her
+old lover, with a smile that reminded him of other days--"at last, when
+I was growing tired waiting. And this is your little girl--my little
+girl from henceforth? Come here, my pet, and kiss your new mamma."
+
+She bent over the little one, kissing the pink cheeks and rosy lips.
+
+"She is fair and tiny--a very fairy; but she resembles you,
+nevertheless, Capt. Everard."
+
+"In temper--yes," said the captain. "You will find her spoiled, and
+willful, and cross, and capricious and no end of trouble. Won't she,
+May?"
+
+"She will be the better match for Rupert on that account," Lady Thetford
+said, smiling, and unfastening little Miss Everard's wraps with her own
+fair fingers. "Come here, Rupert, and welcome your new sister."
+
+The young baronet approached, and dutifully kissed little May, who put
+up her rose-bud mouth right willingly. Sir Rupert Thetford wasn't tall,
+rather undersized, and delicate for his seven years; but he was head and
+shoulders over the flaxen-haired fairy, with the bright gray eyes.
+
+"I want a ride on your rocking-horse," cried little May, fraternizing
+with him at once; "and oh! what nice picture books and what a lot!"
+
+The children ran off together to their distant corner, and Captain
+Everard sat down for the first time.
+
+"You have not dined?" said Lady Thetford. "Allow me to----" her hand was
+on the bell, but the captain interposed.
+
+"Many thanks--nothing. We dined at the village; and I leave again by the
+seven-fifty train. It is past seven now, so I have but little time to
+spare. I fear I am putting you to a great deal of trouble; but May's
+nurse insists on being taken back to London to-night."
+
+"It will be of no consequence," replied Lady Thetford, "Rupert's nurse
+will take charge of her. I intend to advertise for a nursery governess
+in a few days. Rupert's health has always been so extremely delicate,
+that he has not even began a pretext of learning yet, and it is quite
+time. He grows stronger, I fancy; but Dr. Gale tells me frankly his
+constitution is dangerously weak."
+
+She sighed as she spoke, and looked over to where he stood beside little
+May, who had mounted the rocking-horse boy-fashion. Sir Rupert was
+expostulating.
+
+"You oughtn't to sit that way--ask mamma. You ought to sit side-saddle.
+Only boys sit like that."
+
+"I don't care!" retorted Miss Everard, rocking more violently than ever.
+"I'll sit whatever way I like! Let me alone!"
+
+Lady Thetford looked at the captain with a smile.
+
+"Her father's daughter, surely! bent on having her own way. What a fairy
+it is! and yet such a perfect picture of health."
+
+"Mabel was never ill an hour in her life, I believe," said her father;
+"she is not at all too good for this world. I only hope she may not grow
+up the torment of your life--she is thoroughly spoiled."
+
+"And I fear if she were not, I should do it. Ah! I expect she will be a
+great comfort to me, and a world of good to Rupert. He has never had a
+playmate of his own years, and children need children as much as they
+need sunshine."
+
+They sat for ten minutes conversing gravely, chiefly on business matters
+connected with little May's annuity--not at all as they had conversed
+three days before by the seaside. Then, as half-past seven drew near,
+the captain arose.
+
+"I must go; I will hardly be in time as it is. Come here, little May,
+and bid papa good-bye."
+
+"Let papa come to May," responded his daughter, still rocking. "I can't
+get off."
+
+Captain Everard laughed, went over, bent down and kissed her.
+
+"Good-bye, May; don't forget papa, and learn to be a good girl. Good
+bye, baronet; try and grow strong and tall. Farewell, Lady Thetford,
+with my best thanks."
+
+She held his hand, looking up in his sun-burned face with tears in her
+dark eyes.
+
+"We may never meet again, Captain Everard," she said hurriedly. "Tell me
+before we part that you forgive me the past."
+
+"Truly, Ada, and for the first time. The service you have rendered me
+fully atones. You should have been my child's mother--be a mother to her
+now. Good-bye, and God bless you and your boy!"
+
+He stooped over, touched her cheek with his lips reverentially, and then
+was gone. Gone forever--never to meet those he left behind this side of
+eternity.
+
+Little May bore the loss of papa and nurse with philosophical
+indifference--her new playmate sufficed for both. The children took to
+one another with the readiness of childhood--Rupert all the more readily
+that he had never before had a playmate of his own years. He was
+naturally a quiet child, caring more for his picture-books and his
+nurse's stories than for tops, or balls, or marbles. But little May
+Everard seemed from the first to inspire him with some of her own
+superabundant vitality and life. The child was never, for a single
+instant, quiet; she was the most restless, the most impetuous, the most
+vigorous little creature that can be conceived. Feet and tongue and
+hands never were still from morning till night; and the life of Sir
+Rupert's nurse, hitherto one of idle ease, became all at once a misery
+to her. The little girl was everywhere--everywhere; especially where she
+had no business to be; and nurse never knew an easy moment for trotting
+after her, and rescuing her from all sorts of perils. She could climb
+like a cat, or a goat, and risked her neck about twenty times per diem;
+she sailed her shoes in the soup when let in as a treat to dinner, and
+washed her hands in her milk-and-water. She became the intimate friend
+of the pretty peacocks and the big, good-tempered dogs, with whom, in
+utter fearlessness, she rolled about in the grass half the day. She
+broke young Rupert's toys, and tore his picture-books and slapped his
+face, and pulled his hair, and made herself master of the situation
+before she had been twenty-four hours in the house. She was thoroughly
+and completely spoiled. What India nurses had left undone, injudicious
+petting and flattery on the homeward passage had completed--and her
+temper was something appalling. Her shrieks of passion at the slightest
+contradiction of her imperial will rang through the house, and rent the
+tortured tympanums of all who heard. The little Xantippe would fling
+herself flat on the carpet, and literally scream herself black in the
+face, until, in dread of apoplexy and sudden death, her frightened
+hearers hastened to yield. Of course, one such victory insured all the
+rest. As for Sir Rupert, before she had been a week at Thetford Towers,
+he dared not call his soul his own. She had partly scalped him on
+several occasions, and left the mark of her cat-like nails in his tender
+visage: but her venomous power of screeching for hours at will had more
+to do with the little baronet's dread of her than anything else. He fled
+ingloriously in every battle--running in tears to mamma, and leaving the
+field and the trophies of victory triumphantly to Miss Everard. With all
+this, when not thwarted--when allowed to smash toys, and dirty her
+clothes, and smear her infantile face, and tear pictures, and torment
+inoffensive lapdogs; when allowed, in short, to follow "her own sweet
+will," little May was as charming a fairy as ever the sun shone on. Her
+gleeful laugh made music in the dreary old rooms, such as had never been
+heard there for many a day, and her mischievous antics were the delight
+of all who did not suffer thereby. The servants petted and indulged her,
+and fed her on unwholesome cakes and sweetmeats, and made her worse and
+worse every day of her life.
+
+Lady Thetford saw all this with inward apprehension. If her ward was
+completely beyond her power of control at four, what would she be a
+dozen years hence?
+
+"Her father was right," thought the lady. "I am afraid she _will_ give
+me a great deal of trouble. I never saw so headstrong, so utterly
+unmanageable a child."
+
+But Lady Thetford was very fond of the fairy despot withal. When her son
+came running to her for succor, drowned in tears, his mother took him in
+her arms and kissed him and soothed him--but she never punished the
+offender. As for Sir Rupert, he might fly ignominiously, but he never
+fought back. Little May had all the hair-pulling and face-scratching to
+herself.
+
+"I must get a governess," mused Lady Thetford. "I may find one who can
+control this little vixen; and it is really time Rupert began his
+studies. I shall speak to Mr. Knight about it."
+
+Lady Thetford sent that very day to the rectory her ladyship's
+compliments, the servant said, and would Mr. Knight call at his earliest
+convenience. Mr. Knight sent in answer to expect him that same evening;
+and on his way he fell in with Dr. Gale, going to the manor-house on a
+professional visit.
+
+"Little Sir Rupert keeps weakly," he said; "no constitution to speak of.
+Not at all like the Thetfords--splendid old stock, the Thetfords, but
+run out--run out. Sir Rupert is a Vandeleur, inherits his mother's
+constitution--delicate child, very."
+
+"Have you seen Lady Thetford's ward!" inquired the clergyman, smiling;
+"no hereditary weakness there, I fancy. I'll answer for the strength of
+her lungs, at any rate. The other day she wanted Lady Thetford's watch
+for a plaything; she couldn't have it, and down she fell flat on the
+floor in what her nurse calls 'one of her tantrums.' You should have
+heard her, her shrieks were appalling."
+
+"I have," said the doctor, with emphasis; "she has the temper of the old
+demon. If I had anything to do with that child, I should whip her within
+an inch of her life--that's all she wants, lots of whipping! The Lord
+only knows the future, but I pity her prospective husband!"
+
+"The taming of the shrew," laughed Mr. Knight. "Katherine and Petruchio
+over again. For my part, I think Lady Thetford was unwise to undertake
+such a charge. With her delicate health it is altogether too much for
+her."
+
+The two gentlemen were shown into the library, whilst the servant went
+to inform his lady of their arrival. The library had a French window
+opening on a sloping lawn, and here chasing butterflies in high glee,
+were the two children--the pale, dark-eyed baronet, and the
+flaxen-tressed little East Indian.
+
+"Look," said Dr. Gale. "Is Sir Rupert going to be your Petruchio? Who
+knows what the future may bring forth--who knows that we do not behold a
+future Lady Thetford?"
+
+"She is very pretty," said the rector thoughtfully, "and she may change
+with years. Your prophecy may be fulfilled."
+
+The present Lady Thetford entered as he spoke. She had heard the remarks
+of both, and there was an unusual pallor and gravity in her face as she
+advanced to receive them.
+
+Little Sir Rupert was called in, and May followed, with a butterfly
+crushed to death in each fat little hand.
+
+"She kills them as fast as she catches them," said Sir Rupert, ruefully.
+"It's cruel, isn't it, mamma?"
+
+Little May, quite unabashed, displayed her dead prizes, and cut short
+the doctor's conference by impatiently pulling her play-fellow away.
+
+"Come, Rupert, come," she cried. "I want to catch the black one with the
+yellow wings. Stick your tongue out and come."
+
+Sir Rupert displayed his tongue, and submitted his pulse to the doctor,
+and let himself be pulled away by May.
+
+"The gray mare in that span is decidedly the better horse," laughed the
+doctor. "What a little despot in pinafores it is."
+
+When her visitors had left, Lady Thetford walked to the window and stood
+watching the two children racing in the sunshine. It was a pretty sight,
+but the lady's face was contracted with pain.
+
+"No, no," she thought. "I hope not--I pray not. Strange! but I never
+thought of the possibility before. She will be poor, and Rupert must
+marry a rich wife, so that if----"
+
+She paused, with a sort of shudder, then added:
+
+"What will he think, my darling boy, of his father and mother if that
+day ever comes?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+MRS. WEYMORE.
+
+
+Lady Thetford had settled her business satisfactorily with the rector of
+St Gosport.
+
+"Nothing could be more opportune," he said. "I am going to London next
+week on business which will detain me upward of a fortnight. I will
+immediately advertise for such a person as you want."
+
+"You must understand," said her ladyship, "I do not require a young
+girl. I wish a middle-aged person--a widow, for instance, who has had
+children of her own. Both Rupert and May are spoiled--May particularly
+is perfectly unmanageable. A young girl as governess for her would never
+do."
+
+Mr. Knight departed with these instructions and the following week
+started for the great metropolis. An advertisement was at once inserted
+in the _Times_ newspaper, stating all Lady Thetford's requirements, and
+desiring immediate application. Another week later, and Lady Thetford
+received the following communication:
+
+     "DEAR LADY THETFORD--I have been fairly besieged with
+     applications for the past week--all widows, and all professing
+     to be thoroughly competent. Clergyman's widows, doctors'
+     widows, officers' widows--all sorts of widows. I never before
+     thought so many could apply for one situation. I have chosen
+     one in sheer desperation--the widow of a country gentleman in
+     distressed circumstances, who, I think, will suit. She is
+     eminently respectable in appearance, quiet and lady-like in
+     manner, with five years' experience in the nursery-governess
+     line, and the highest recommendation from her late employers.
+     She has lost a child, she tells me, and from her looks and
+     manner altogether, I should judge she was a person conversant
+     with misfortune. She will return with me early next week--her
+     name is Mrs. Weymore."
+
+Lady Thetford read this letter with a little sigh of relief--some one
+else would have the temper and outbreaks of little May to contend with
+now. She wrote to Captain Everard that same day, to announce his
+daughter's well-being, and inform him that she had found a suitable
+governess to take charge of her.
+
+The second day of the ensuing week the rector and the new governess
+arrived. A fly from the railway brought her and her luggage to Thetford
+Towers late in the afternoon, and she was taken at once to the room that
+had been prepared for her, whilst the servant went to inform Lady
+Thetford of her arrival.
+
+"Fetch her here at once," said her ladyship, who was alone, as usual, in
+the long drawing-room with the children, "I wish to see her."
+
+Ten minutes after the drawing-room door was flung open, and "Mrs.
+Weymore, my lady," announced the footman.
+
+Lady Thetford arose to receive her new dependent, who bowed and stood
+before her with a somewhat fluttered and embarrassed air. She was quite
+young, not older than my lady herself, and eminently good-looking. The
+tall, slender figure, clad in widow's weeds, was as symmetrical as Lady
+Thetford's own, and the full black dress set off the pearly fairness of
+the blonde skin, and the rich abundance of fair hair. Lady Thetford's
+brows contracted a little; her fair, subdued, gentle-looking, girlish
+young woman, was hardly the strong-minded, middle-aged matron she had
+expected to take the nonsense out of obstreperous May Everard.
+
+"Mrs. Weymore, I believe," said Lady Thetford, resuming her
+_fauteuil_, "pray be seated. I wished to see you at once, because
+I am going out this evening. You have had five years' experience as a
+nursery-governess, Mr. Knight tells me."
+
+"Yes, my lady."
+
+There was a little tremor in Mrs. Weymore's low voice, and her blue eyes
+shifted and fell under Lady Thetford's steady and somewhat haughty gaze.
+
+"Yet you look young--much younger than I imagined, or wished."
+
+"I am twenty-seven years old, my lady."
+
+That was my lady's own age precisely, but she looked half a dozen years
+the elder of the two.
+
+"Are you a native of London?"
+
+"No, my lady, of Berkshire."
+
+"And you have been a widow, how long?"
+
+What ailed Mrs. Weymore? She was all white and trembling--even her
+hands, folded and pressed together in her lap, shook in spite of her.
+
+"Eight years and more."
+
+She said it with a sort of sob, hysterically choked. Lady Thetford
+looked on surprised, and a trifle displeased. She was a very proud
+woman, and certainly wished for no scene with her hired dependents.
+
+"Eight years is a tolerable time," she said, coolly. "You have lost
+children?"
+
+"One, my lady."
+
+Again that choked, hysterical sob. My lady vent on pitilessly.
+
+"Is it long ago?"
+
+"When--when I lost its father?"
+
+"Ah! both together? That was rather hard. Well, I hope you understand
+the management of children--spoiled ones particularly. Here are the two
+you are to take charge of. Rupert--May come here."
+
+The children came over from their corner. Mrs. Weymore drew May toward
+her, but Sir Rupert held aloof.
+
+"This is my ward--this is my son. I presume Mr. Knight has told you. If
+you can subdue the temper of that child, you will prove yourself,
+indeed, a treasure. The east parlor has been fitted up for your use; the
+children will take their meals there with you; the room adjoining is to
+be the school-room. I have appointed one of the maids to wait on you. I
+trust you will find your chamber comfortable."
+
+"Exceedingly so, my lady."
+
+"And the terms proposed by Mr. Knight suit you?"
+
+Mrs. Weymore bowed. Lady Thetford rose to close the interview.
+
+"You must need refreshment and rest after your journey. I will not
+detain you longer. To-morrow your duties will commence."
+
+She rang the bell--directed the servant who came to show the governess
+to the east parlor and see to her wants, and then to send nurse for the
+children. Fifteen minutes after she drove away in the pony-phaeton,
+whilst the new governess stood by the window of the east parlor and
+watched her vanish in the amber haze of the August sunset.
+
+Lady Thetford's business in St. Gosport detained her a couple of hours.
+The big, white, August moon was rising as she drove slowly homeward, and
+the nightingales sang its vesper lay in the scented hedge-rows. As she
+passed the rectory she saw Mr. Knight leaning over his own gate enjoying
+the placid beauty of the summer evening, and Lady Thetford reined in her
+ponies to speak to him.
+
+"So happy to see your ladyship! Won't you alight and come in? Mrs.
+Knight will be delighted."
+
+"Not this evening, I think. Had you much trouble about my business?"
+
+"I had applicants enough, certainly," laughed the rector. "I had reason
+to remember Mr. Weller's immortal advice, 'Beware of widders.' How do
+you like your governess?"
+
+"I have hardly had time to form an opinion. She is younger than I could
+desire."
+
+"She looks much younger than the age she gives, I know; but that is a
+common case. I trust my choice will prove satisfactory--her references
+are excellent. Your ladyship has had an interview with her?"
+
+"A very brief one. Her manner struck me unpleasantly--so odd, and shy,
+and nervous. I hardly know how to characterize it; but she may be a
+paragon of governesses, for all that. Good evening; best regards to Mrs.
+Knight. Call soon and see how your _protege_ gets on."
+
+Lady Thetford drove away. As she alighted from the pony-carriage and
+ascended the great front steps of the house, she saw the pale governess
+still seated at the window of the east parlor, gazing dejectedly out at
+the silvery moonlight.
+
+"A most woeful countenance," thought my lady. "There is some deeper
+grief than the loss of a husband and child eight years ago, the matter
+with that woman. I don't like her."
+
+No, Lady Thetford did not like the meek and submissive looking
+governess, but the children and the rest of the household did. Sir
+Rupert and little May took to her at once--her gentle voice, her tender
+smile seemed to win its way to their capricious favor; and before the
+end of the first week she had more influence over them than mother and
+nurse together. The subdued and gentle governess soon had the love of
+all at Thetford Towers, except its mistress, from Mrs. Hilliard, the
+stately housekeeper, down. She was courteous and considerate, so anxious
+to avoid giving trouble. Above all, that fixed expression of hopeless
+trouble on her sad, pale face, made its way to every heart. She had full
+charge of the children now; they took their meals with her, and she had
+them in her keeping the best part of the day--an office that was no
+sinecure. When they were with their nurse, or my lady, the governess sat
+alone in the east parlor, looking out dreamily at the summer landscape,
+with her own brooding thoughts.
+
+One evening when she had been at Thetford Towers over a fortnight, Mrs.
+Hilliard, coming in, found her sitting dreamily by herself neither
+reading nor working. The children were in the drawing-room, and her
+duties were over for the day.
+
+"I am afraid you don't make yourself at home here," said the
+good-natured housekeeper; "you stay too much alone, and it isn't good
+for young people like you."
+
+"I am used to solitude," replied the governess with a smile, that ended
+in a sigh, "and I have grown to like it. Will you take a seat?"
+
+"No," said Mrs. Hilliard. "I heard you say the other day you would like
+to go over the house; so, as I have a couple of hours leisure, I will
+show it to you now."
+
+The governess rose eagerly.
+
+"I have been wanting to see it so much," she said, "but I feared to give
+trouble by asking. It is very good of you to think of me, dear Mrs.
+Hilliard."
+
+"She isn't much used to people thinking of her," reflected the
+housekeeper, "or she wouldn't be so grateful for trifles. Let me see,"
+aloud, "you have seen the drawing-room and library, and that is all,
+except your own apartments. Well, come this way, I'll show you the old
+south wing."
+
+Through the long corridors, up wide, black, slippery staircases, into
+vast, unused rooms, where ghostly echoes and darkness had it all to
+themselves, Mrs. Hilliard led the governess.
+
+"These apartments have been unused since before the late Sir Noel's
+time," said Mrs. Hilliard; "his father kept them full in the hunting
+season, and at Christmas time. Since Sir Noel's death, my lady has shut
+herself up and received no company, and gone nowhere. She is beginning
+to go out more of late than she has done ever since his death."
+
+Mrs. Hilliard was not looking at the governess, or she might have been
+surprised at the nervous restlessness and agitation of her manner, as
+she listened to these very commonplace remarks.
+
+"Lady Thetford was very much attached to her husband, then?" Mrs.
+Weymore said, her voice tremulous.
+
+"Ah! that she was! She must have been, for his death nearly killed her.
+It was sudden enough, and shocking enough, goodness knows! I shall never
+forget that dreadful night. This is the old banqueting-hall, Mrs.
+Weymore, the largest and dreariest room in the house."
+
+Mrs. Weymore, trembling very much, either with cold or that
+unaccountable nervousness of hers, hardly looked round at the vast
+wilderness of a room.
+
+"You were with the late Sir Noel, then, when he died?"
+
+"Yes, until my lady came. Ah! it was a dreadful thing! He had taken her
+to a ball, and riding home his horse threw him. We sent for the doctor
+and my lady at once; and when she came, all white and scared like, he
+sent us out of the room. He was as calm and sensible as you or me, but
+he seemed to have something on his mind. My lady was shut up with him
+for about three hours, and then we went in--Dr. Gale and me. I shall
+never forget that sad sight. Poor Sir Noel was dead, and she was
+kneeling beside him in her ball dress, like somebody turned to stone. I
+spoke to her, and she looked up at me, and then fell back in my arms in
+a fainting fit. Are you cold, Mrs. Weymore, that you shake so?"
+
+"No--yes--it is this desolate room, I think," the governess answered,
+hardly able to speak.
+
+"It _is_ desolate. Come, I'll show you the billiard-room, and then we'll
+go up-stairs to the room Sir Noel died in. Everything remains just as it
+was--no one has ever slept there since. If you only knew, Mrs. Weymore,
+what a sad time it was; but you do know, poor dear! you have lost a
+husband yourself!"
+
+The governess flung up her hands before her face with a suppressed cry
+so full of anguish that the housekeeper stared at her aghast. Almost as
+quickly she recovered herself again.
+
+"Don't mind me," she said, in a choking voice, "I can't help it. You
+don't know what I suffered--what I still suffer. Oh, pray, don't mind
+me!"
+
+"Certainly not my dear," said Mrs. Hilliard, thinking inwardly the
+governess was a very odd person, indeed.
+
+They looked at the billiard-room, where the tables stood, dusty and
+disused, and the balls lay idly by.
+
+"I don't know when it will be used again," said Mrs. Hilliard; "perhaps
+not until Sir Rupert grows up. There was a time," lowering her voice,
+"that I thought he would never live to be as old and strong as he is
+now. He was the puniest baby, Mrs. Weymore, you ever looked at--nobody
+thought he would live. And that would have been a pity, you know; for
+then the Thetford estate would have gone to a distant branch of the
+family, as it would, too, if Sir Rupert had been a little girl."
+
+She went on up-stairs to the inhabited part of the building, followed by
+Mrs. Weymore, who seemed to grow more and more agitated with every word
+the housekeeper said.
+
+"This is Sir Noel's room," said Mrs. Hilliard, in an awe-struck whisper,
+as if the dead man still lay there; "no one ever enters here but me."
+
+She unlocked it as she spoke, and went in. Mrs. Weymore followed, with a
+face of frightened pallor that struck even the housekeeper.
+
+"Good gracious me! Mrs. Weymore, what is the matter? You are as pale as
+a ghost. Are you afraid to enter a room where a person has died?"
+
+Mrs. Weymore's reply was almost inaudible; she stood on the threshold,
+pallid, trembling, unaccountably moved. The housekeeper glanced at her
+suspiciously.
+
+"Very odd," she thought, "very! The new governess is either the most
+nervous person I ever met, or else--no, she can't have known Sir Noel in
+his lifetime. Of course not."
+
+They left the chamber after a cursory glance around--Mrs. Weymore never
+advancing beyond the threshold. She had not spoken, and that white
+pallor made her face ghastly still.
+
+"I'll show you the picture-gallery," said Mrs. Hilliard; "and then, I
+believe, you will have seen all that is worth seeing at Thetford
+Towers."
+
+She led the way to a long, high-lighted room, wainscoted and antique,
+like all the rest, where long rows of dead and gone Thetfords looked
+down from the carved walls. There were knights in armor, countesses in
+ruffles and powder and lace, bishops in mitre on head and crozier in
+hand, and judges in gown and wig. There were ladies in pointed
+stomachers and jeweled fans, with the waists of their dresses under
+their arms, but all fair and handsome, and unmistakably alike. Last of
+all the long array, there was Sir Noel, a fair-haired, handsome youth of
+twenty, with a smile on his face and a happy radiance in his blue eyes.
+And by his side, dark and haughty and beautiful, was my lady in her
+bridal-robes.
+
+"There is not a handsomer face amongst them all than my lady's," said
+Mrs. Hilliard, with pride. "You ought to have seen her when Sir Noel
+first brought her home; she was the most beautiful creature I ever
+looked at. Ah! it was such a pity he was killed. I suppose they'll be
+having Sir Rupert's taken next and hung beside her. He don't look much
+like the Thetfords; he's his mother over again--a Vandeleur, dark and
+still."
+
+If Mrs. Weymore made any reply the housekeeper did not catch it; she was
+standing with her face averted, hardly looking at the portraits, and was
+the first to leave the picture-gallery.
+
+There were a few more rooms to be seen--a drawing-room suite, now closed
+and disused; an ancient library, with a wonderful stained window, and a
+vast echoing reception-room. But it was all over at last, and Mrs.
+Hilliard, with her keys, trotted cheerfully off; and Mrs. Weymore was
+left to solitude and her own thoughts once more.
+
+A strange person, certainly. She locked the door and fell down on her
+knees by the bedside, sobbing until her whole form was convulsed.
+
+"Oh! why did I come here? Why did I come here?" came passionately with
+the wild storm of sobs. "I might have known how it would be! Nearly nine
+years--nine lone, long years, and not to have forgotten yet!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+A JOURNEY TO LONDON.
+
+
+Very slowly, very monotonously went life at Thetford Towers. The only
+noticable change and that my lady went rather more into society, and a
+greater number of visitors came to the manor. There had been a
+children's party on the occasion of Sir Rupert's eighth birthday, and
+Mrs. Weymore had played for the little people to dance; and my lady had
+cast off her chronic gloom, had been handsome and happy as of old. There
+had been a dinner-party later--an imprecedented event now at Thetford
+Towers; and the weeds, worn so long, had been discarded, and in diamonds
+and black velvet Lady Ada Thetford had been beautiful, and stately, and
+gracious, as a young queen. No one knew the reason of the sudden change,
+but they accepted the fact just as they found it, and set it down,
+perhaps, to woman's caprice.
+
+So slowly the summer passed: autumn came and went, and it was December,
+and the ninth anniversary of Sir Noel's death.
+
+A gloomy day--wet, and wild, and windy. The wind, sweeping over the
+angry sea, surged and roared through the skeleton trees; the rain lashed
+the windows in rattling gusts; and the leaden sky hung low and frowning
+over the drenched and dreary earth. A dismal day--very like that other,
+nine years ago, that had been Sir Noel's last.
+
+In Lady Thetford's boudoir a bright-red coal fire blazed. Pale-blue
+curtains of satin damask shut out the wintry prospect, and the softest
+and richest of foreign carpets hushed every footfall. Before the fire,
+on a little table, my lady's breakfast temptingly stood; the silver, old
+and quaint; the rare antique porcelain sparkling in the ruddy firelight.
+An easy chair, carved and gilded, and cushioned in azure velvet, stood
+by the table; and near my lady's plate lay the letters and papers the
+morning's mail had brought.
+
+A toy of a clock on the low marble mantle chimed musically ten as my
+lady entered. In her dainty morning negligee, with her dark hair
+rippling and falling low on her neck, she looked very young, and fair,
+and graceful. Behind her came her maid, a blooming English girl, who
+took off the cover and poured out my lady's chocolate.
+
+Lady Thetford sank languidly into the azure velvet depths of her
+_fautenuil_, and took up her letters. There were three--one a note from
+her man of business; one an invitation to a dinner-party; and the third,
+a big official-looking document, with a huge seal, and no end of
+postmarks. The languid eyes suddenly lighted; the pale cheeks flushed as
+she took it eagerly up. It was a letter from India from Capt. Everard.
+
+Lady Thetford sipped her chocolate, and read her letter leisurely, with
+her slippered feet on the shining fender. It was a long letter, and she
+read it over slowly twice, three times, before she laid it down. She
+finished her breakfast, motioned her maid to remove the service, and
+lying back in her chair, with her deep, dark eyes fixed dreamily on the
+fire, she fell into a reverie of other days far gone. The lover of her
+girlhood came back to her from over the sea. He was lying at her feet
+once more in the long summer days, under the waving trees of her
+girlhood's home. Ah, how happy! how happy she had been in those by-gone
+days, before Sir Noel Thetford had come, with his wealth and his title,
+to tempt her from her love and truth.
+
+Eleven struck, twelve from the musical clock on the mantle, and still my
+lady sat living in the past. Outside the wintry storm raged on; the rain
+clamored against the curtained glass, and the wind worried the trees.
+With a long sigh my lady awoke from her dream, and mechanically took up
+the _Times_ newspaper--the first of the little heap.
+
+"Vain! vain!" she thought, dreamily; "worse than vain those dreams now.
+With my own hand I threw back the heart that loved me; of my own free
+will I resigned the man I loved. And now the old love, that I thought
+would die in the splendor of my new life, is stronger than ever--and it
+is nine years too late."
+
+She tried to wrench her thoughts away and fix them on her newspaper. In
+vain! her eyes wandered aimlessly over the closely-printed columns--her
+mind was in India with Capt. Everard. All at once she started, uttered a
+sudden, sharp cry, and grasped the paper with dilated eyes and whitening
+cheeks. At the top of a column of "personal" advertisements was one
+which her strained eyes literally devoured.
+
+     "If Mr. Vyking, who ten years ago left a male infant in charge
+     of Mrs. Martha Brand, wishes to keep that child out of the
+     work-house, he will call, within the next five days, at No. 17
+     Wadington Street, Lambeth."
+
+Again and again, and again Lady Thetford read this apparently
+uninteresting advertisement. Slowly the paper dropped into her lap, and
+she sat staring blankly into the fire.
+
+"At last!" she thought, "at last it has come. I fancied all danger was
+over--the death, perhaps, had forestalled me; and now, after all these
+years, I am summoned to keep my broken promise!"
+
+The hue of death had settled on her face; she sat cold and rigid,
+staring with that blank, fixed gaze into the fire. Ceaselessly beat the
+rain; wilder grew the December day; steadily the moments wore on, and
+still she sat in that fixed trance. The armula clock struck two--the
+sound aroused her at last.
+
+"I must!" she said, setting her teeth. "I will! My boy shall not lose
+his birthright, come what may!"
+
+She rose and rang the bell--very pale, but icily calm. Her maid answered
+the summons.
+
+"Eliza," my lady asked, "at what hour does the afternoon train leave St.
+Gosport for London!"
+
+Eliza stared--did not know, but would ascertain. In five minutes she was
+back.
+
+"At half-past three, my lady; and another at seven."
+
+Lady Thetford glanced at the clock--it was a quarter past two.
+
+"Tell William to have the carriage at the door at a quarter past three;
+and do you pack my dressing case, and the few things I shall need for
+two or three days' absence. I am going to London."
+
+Eliza stood for a moment quite petrified. In all the nine years of her
+service under my lady, no such order as this had ever been received. To
+go to London at a moment's notice--my lady, who rarely went beyond her
+own park gates! Turning away, not quite certain that her ears had not
+deceived her, my lady's voice arrested her.
+
+"Send Mrs. Weymore to me; and do you lose no time in packing up."
+
+Eliza departed. Mrs. Weymore appeared. My lady had some instructions to
+give concerning the children during her absence. Then the governess was
+dismissed, and she was again alone.
+
+Through the wind and rain of the wintry storm, Lady Thetford was driven
+to the station, in time to catch the three-fifty train to the
+metropolis. She went unattended; with no message to any one, only saying
+she would be back in three days at the furthest.
+
+In that dull household, where so few events ever disturbed the stagnant
+quiet, this sudden journey produced an indescribable sensation. What
+could have taken my lady to London at a moment's notice? Some urgent
+reason it must have been to force her out of the gloomy seclusion in
+which she had buried herself since her husband's death. But, discuss it
+as they might, they could come no nearer the heart of the mystery.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+GUY.
+
+
+The rainy December day closed in a rainier night. Another day dawned on
+the world, sunless, and chilly, and overcast still.
+
+It dawned on London in murky, yellow fog, on sloppy, muddy streets--in
+gloom and dreariness, and a raw, easterly wind. In the densely populated
+streets of the district of Lambeth, where poverty huddled in tall, gaunt
+buildings, the dismal light stole murkily and slowly over the crowded,
+filthy streets and swarming purlieus.
+
+In a small upper room of a large dilapidated house, this bad December
+morning, a painter stood at his easel. The room was bare and cold, and
+comfortless in the extreme; the painter was middle-aged, small, brown
+and shriveled, and very much out at elbows. The dull, gray light fell
+full on his work--no inspiration of genius by any means--only the
+portrait, coarsely colored, of a fat, well-to-do butcher's daughter
+round the corner. The man was Joseph Legard, scene-painter to one of the
+minor city theatres, who eked out his slender income by painting
+portraits when he could get them to paint. He was as fond of his art as
+any of the great, old masters; but he had only one attribute in common
+with those immortals--extreme poverty; for his salary was not large, and
+Mr. Legard found it a tight fit, indeed, to "make both ends meet."
+
+So he stood over his work this dull morning, however, in his fireless
+room, with a cheerful, brown face, whistling a tune. In the adjoining
+room he could hear his wife's voice raised shrilly, and the cries of
+half a dozen Legards. He was used to it, and it did not disturb him; and
+he painted and whistled cheerily, touching up the butcher's daughter's
+snub nose and fat cheeks and double chin, until light footsteps came
+running up-stairs, and the door was flung wide by an impetuous hand. A
+boy of ten, or thereabouts, came in--a bright-eyed, fair-haired lad,
+with a handsome, resolute face, and eyes of cloudless, Saxon blue.
+
+"Ah, Guy!" said the scene-painter, turning round and nodding
+good-humoredly. "I've been expecting you! What do you think of Miss
+Jenkins?"
+
+The boy looked at the picture with the glance of an embryo connoisseur.
+
+"It's as like her as two peas, Joe; or would be, if her hair was a
+little redder, and her nose a little thicker, and the freckles were
+plainer. But it looks like her as it is."
+
+"Well, you see, Guy," said the painter, going on with Miss Jenkins's
+left eyebrow, "it don't do to make 'em too true--people don't like it;
+they pay their money, and they expect to take it out in good looks. And
+now, any news this morning, Guy?"
+
+The boy leaned against the window and looked out into the dingy street,
+his bright, young face growing gloomy and overcast.
+
+"No," he said, moodily; "there is no news, except that Phil Darking was
+drunk last night, and savage as a mad dog this morning--and that's no
+news, I'm sure!"
+
+"And nobody's come about the advertisement in the _Times_?"
+
+"No, and never will. It's all humbug what granny says about my belonging
+to anybody rich; if I did, they'd have seen after me long ago. Phil says
+my mother was a house-maid, and my father a valet--and they were only
+too glad to get me off their hands. Vyking was a valet, granny says she
+knows; and it's not likely he'll turn up after all these years. I don't
+care, I'd rather go to the work-house; I'd rather starve in the streets,
+than live another week with Phil Darking."
+
+The blue eyes filled with tears, and he dashed them passionately away.
+The painter looked up with a distressed face.
+
+"Has he been beating you again, Guy?"
+
+"It's no matter--he's a brute! Granny and Ellen are sorry, and do what
+they can; but that's nothing. I wish I had never been born!"
+
+"It is hard," said the painter, compassionately, "but keep up heart,
+Guy; if the worst comes, why you can stop here and take pot-luck with
+the rest--not that that's much better than starvation. You can take to
+my business shortly, now; and you'll make a better scene-painter than
+ever I could. You've got it in you."
+
+"Do you really think so, Joe?" cried the boy, with sparkling eyes. "Do
+you? I'd rather be an artist than a king----Halloo!"
+
+He stopped short in surprise, staring out of the window. Legard looked.
+Up the dirty street came a handsome cab, and stopped at their own door.
+The driver alighted, made some inquiry, then opened the cab-door, and a
+lady stepped lightly out on the curb-stone--a lady, tall and stately,
+dressed in black and closely veiled.
+
+"Now, who can this visitor be for?" said Legard. "People in this
+neighborhood ain't in the habit of having morning calls made on them in
+cabs. She's coming up-stairs!"
+
+He held the door open, listening. The lady ascended the first flight of
+stairs, stopped on the landing, and inquired of some one for "Mrs.
+Martha Brand."
+
+"For granny!" exclaimed the boy. "Joe, I shouldn't wonder if it was some
+one about that advertisement, after all!"
+
+"Neither should I," said Legard. "There! she's gone in. You'll be sent
+for directly, Guy!"
+
+Yes, the lady had gone in. She had encountered on the landing a sickly
+young woman with a baby in her arms, who had stared at the name she
+inquired for.
+
+"Mrs. Martha Brand? Why, that's mother! Walk in this way, if you please,
+ma'am."
+
+She opened the door, and ushered the veiled lady into a small, close
+room, poorly furnished. Over a smouldering fire, mending stockings, sat
+an old woman, who, notwithstanding the extreme shabbiness and poverty of
+her dress, lifted a pleasant, intelligent old face.
+
+"A lady to see you, mother," said the young woman, hushing her fretful
+baby and looking curiously at the veiled face.
+
+But the lady made no attempt to raise the envious screen, not even when
+Mrs. Martha Brand got up, dropping a respectful little servant's
+courtesy and placing a chair. It was a very thick veil--an impenetrable
+shield--and nothing could be discovered of the face behind it but that
+it was fixedly pale. She sank into the seat, her face turned to the old
+woman behind that sable screen.
+
+"You are Mrs. Brand?"
+
+The voice was refined and patrician. It would have told she was a lady,
+even if the rich garments she wore did not.
+
+"Yes, ma'am--your ladyship; Martha Brand."
+
+"And you inserted that advertisement in the _Times_ regarding a child
+left in your care ten years ago?"
+
+Mother and daughter started, and stared at the speaker.
+
+"It was addressed to Mr. Vyking, who left the child in your charge, by
+which I infer you are not aware that he has left England."
+
+"Left England, has he?" said Mrs. Brand. "More shame for him, then,
+never to let me know or leave a farthing to support the boy!"
+
+"I am inclined to believe it was not his fault," said the clear,
+patrician voice. "He left England suddenly and against his will, and, I
+have reason to think, will never return. But there are others
+interested--more interested than he could possibly be--in the child, who
+remain, and who are willing to take him off your hands. But first, why
+is it you are so anxious, after keeping him all these years, to get rid
+of him?"
+
+"Well, you see, your ladyship," replied Martha Brand, "it is not me, nor
+likewise Ellen there, who is my daughter. We'd keep the lad and welcome,
+and share the last crust we had with him, as we often have--for we're
+very poor people; but, you see, Ellen, she's married now, and her
+husband never could bear Guy--that's what we call him, your
+ladyship--Guy, which it was Mr. Vyking's own orders. Phil Darking, her
+husband, never did like him somehow; and when he gets drunk, saving your
+ladyship's presence, he beats him most unmercifully. And now we're going
+to America--to New York, where Phil's got a brother and work is better,
+and he won't fetch Guy. So, your ladyship, I thought I'd try once more
+before we deserted him, and put that advertisement in the _Times_, which
+I'm very glad I did, if it will fetch the poor lad any friends."
+
+There was a moment's pause; then the lady asked, thoughtfully: "And when
+do you leave for New York?"
+
+"The day after to-morrow, ma'am--and a long journey it is for a poor old
+body like me."
+
+"Did you live here when Mr. Vyking left the child with you--in this
+neighborhood?"
+
+"Not in this neighborhood, nor in London at all, your ladyship. It was
+Lowdean, in Berkshire, and my husband was alive at the time. I had just
+lost my baby, and the landlady of the hotel recommended me. So he
+brought it, and paid me thirty sovereigns, and promised me thirty more
+every twelvemonth, and told me to call it Guy Vyking--and that was the
+last I ever saw of him."
+
+"And the infant's mother?" said the lady, her voice changing
+perceptibly--"do you know anything of her?"
+
+"But very little," said Martha Brand, shaking her head. "I never set
+eyes on her, although she was sick at the inn for upward of three weeks.
+But Mrs. Vine, the landlady, she saw her twice; and she told me what a
+pretty young creeter she was--and a lady, if there ever was a lady yet."
+
+"Then the child was born in Berkshire--how was it?"
+
+"Well, your ladyship, it was an accident, seeing as how the carriage
+broke down with Mr. Vyking and the lady, a-driving furious to catch the
+last London train. The lady was so hurted that she had to be carried to
+the inn, and went quite out of her head, raving and dangerous like. Mr.
+Vyking had the landlady to wait upon her until he could telegraph to
+London for a nurse, which one came down next day and took charge of her.
+The baby wasn't two days old when he brought it to me, and the poor
+young mother was dreadful low and out of her head all the time. Mr.
+Vyking and the nurse were all that saw her, and the doctor, of course;
+but she didn't die, as the doctor thought she would, but got well, and
+before she came right to her senses Mr. Vyking paid the doctor and told
+him he needn't come back. And then, a little more than a fortnight
+after, they took her away, all sly and secret-like, and what they told
+her about her poor baby I don't know. I always thought there was
+something dreadful wrong about the whole thing."
+
+"And this Mr. Vyking--was he the child's father--the woman's husband?"
+
+Martha Brand looked sharply at the speaker, as if she suspected _she_
+could answer that question best herself.
+
+"Nobody knew, but everybody thought who. I've always been of opinion
+myself that Guy's father and mother were gentlefolks, and I always shall
+be."
+
+"Does the boy know his own story?"
+
+"Yes, your ladyship--all I've told you."
+
+"Where is he? I should like to see him."
+
+Mrs. Brand's daughter, all this time hushing her baby, started up.
+
+"I'll fetch him. He's up-stairs in Legard's, I know."
+
+She left the room and ran up-stairs. The painter, Legard, still was
+touching up Miss Jenkins, and the bright-haired boy stood watching the
+progress of that work of art.
+
+"Guy! Guy!" she cried breathlessly, "come down-stairs at once. You're
+wanted."
+
+"Who wants me, Ellen?"
+
+"A lady, dressed in the most elegant and expensive mourning--a real
+lady, Guy; and she has come about that advertisement, and she wants to
+see you."
+
+"What is she like, Mrs. Darking?" inquired the painter--"young or old?"
+
+"Young, I should think; but she hides her face behind a thick veil, as
+if she didn't want to be known. Come, Guy."
+
+She hurried the lad down-stairs and into their little room. The veiled
+lady still sat talking to the old woman, her back to the dim daylight,
+and that disguising veil still down. She turned slightly at their
+entrance, and looked at the boy through it. Guy stood in the middle of
+the floor, his fearless blue eyes fixed on the hidden face. Could he
+have seen it he might have started at the grayish pallor which
+overspread it at sight of him.
+
+"So like! So like!" the lady was murmuring between her set teeth. "It is
+terrible--it is marvelous!"
+
+"This is Guy, your ladyship," said Martha Brand. "I've done what I could
+for him for the last ten years, and I'm almost as sorry to part with him
+as if he were my own. Is your ladyship going to take him away with you
+now?"
+
+"No," said her ladyship, sharply; "I have no such intention. Have you no
+neighbor or friend who would be willing to take and bring him up, if
+well paid for the trouble? This time the money shall be paid without
+fail."
+
+"There's Legard's," cried the boy, eagerly. "I'll go to Legard's,
+granny. I'd rather be with Joe than anywhere else."
+
+"It's a neighbor that lives up-stairs," murmured Martha, in explanation.
+"He always took to Guy and Guy to him in a way that's quite wonderful.
+He's a very decent man, your ladyship--a painter for a theatre; and Guy
+takes kindly to the business, and would like to be one himself. If you
+don't want to take away the boy, you couldn't leave him in better
+hands."
+
+"I am glad to hear it. Can I see the man?"
+
+"I'll fetch him!" cried Guy, and ran out of the room. Two minutes later
+came Mr. Legard, paper cap and shirt-sleeves, bowing very low to the
+grand, black-robed lady, and only too delighted to strike a bargain. The
+lady offered liberally; Mr. Legard closed with the offer at once.
+
+"You will clothe him better, and you will educate him and give him your
+name. I wish him to drop that of Vyking. The same amount I give you now
+will be sent you this time every year. If you change your residence in
+the meantime, or wish to communicate with me on any occurrence of
+consequence, you can address Madam Ada, post office, Plymouth."
+
+She rose as she spoke, stately and tall, and motioned Mr. Legard to
+withdraw. The painter gathered up the money she laid on the table, and
+bowed himself, with a radiant face, out of the room.
+
+"As for you," turning to old Martha, and taking out of her purse a roll
+of crisp, Bank of England notes, "I think this will pay you for the
+trouble you have had with the boy during the last ten years. No
+thanks--you have earned the money."
+
+She moved to the door, made a slight, proud gesture with her gloved hand
+in farewell, took a last look at the golden haired, blue eyed, handsome
+boy, and was gone. A moment later and her cab rattled out of the murky
+street, and the trio were alone staring at one another, and at the bulky
+roll of notes.
+
+"I should think it was a dream only for this," murmured old Martha,
+looking at the roll with glistening eyes. "A great lady--a great lady,
+surely! Guy, I shouldn't wonder if that was your mother."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+COLONEL JOCYLN.
+
+
+Five miles away from Thetford Towers, where the multitudinous waves
+leaped and glistened all day in the sun-light, as if a-glitter with
+diamonds, stood Jocyln Hall. An imposing structure of red brick, not yet
+one hundred years old, with sloping meadows spreading away into the blue
+horizon, and densely wooded plantations gliding down to the wide sea.
+
+Colonel Jocyln, the lord of the boundless meadows and miles of woodland,
+where the red deer disported in the green arcades, was absent in India,
+and had been for the past nine years. They were an old family, the
+Jocylns, as old as any in Devon, and with a pride that bore no
+proportion to their purse, until the present Jocyln, had, all at once
+become a millionaire. A penniless young lieutenant in a cavalry
+regiment, quartered somewhere in Ireland, with a handsome face and
+dashing manners, he had captivated, at first sight, a wild, young Irish
+heiress of fabulous wealth and beauty. It was a love-match on her
+side--nobody knew exactly what it was on his; but they made a moonlight
+flitting of it, for the lady's friends were grievously wroth. Lieutenant
+Jocyln liked his profession for its own sake, and took his Irish bride
+to India, and there an heiress and only child was born to him. The
+climate disagreed with the young wife--she sickened and died; but the
+young officer and his baby girl remained in India. In the fullness of
+time he became Colonel Jocyln; and one day electrified his housekeeper
+by a letter announcing his intention of returning to England with his
+little daughter Aileen for good.
+
+That same month of December, which took Lady Thetford on that mysterious
+London journey, brought this letter from Calcutta. Five months after,
+when the May primroses and hyacinths were all abloom in the green
+seaside woodlands, Colonel Jocyln and his little daughter came home.
+
+Early on the day succeeding his arrival, Colonel Jocyln rode through the
+bright spring sunshine, along the pleasant high road between Jocyln Hall
+and Thetford Towers. He had met the late Sir Noel and his bride once or
+twice previous to his departure for India; but there had been no
+acquaintance sufficiently close to warrant this speedy call.
+
+Lady Thetford, sitting alone in her boudoir, looked in surprise at the
+card the servant brought.
+
+"Colonel Jocyln," she said, "I did not even know he had arrived. And to
+call so soon--ah! perhaps he fetches me letters from India."
+
+She rose at the thought, her pale cheeks flushing a little with
+expectation. Mail after mail had arrived from that distant land,
+bringing her no letter from Captain Everard.
+
+Lady Thetford descended at once. She had few callers; but she was always
+exquisitely dressed and ready to receive at a moment's notice. Colonel
+Jocyln--tall and sallow and soldierly--rose at her entrance.
+
+"Lady Thetford? Ah, yes! Most happy to see your ladyship once more.
+Permit me to apologize for this very early call--you will overlook my
+haste when you hear my reason."
+
+Lady Thetford held out her white hand.
+
+"Allow me to welcome you back to England, Colonel Jocyln. You have come
+for good this time, I hope. And little Aileen is well, I trust?"
+
+"Very well, and very glad to be released from shipboard. I need not ask
+for young Sir Rupert--I saw him with his nurse in the park as I rode up.
+A fine boy, and like you, my lady."
+
+"Yes, Rupert is like me. And now--how are our mutual friends in India?"
+
+The momentous question she had been longing to ask from the first; but
+her well-trained voice spoke it as steadily as though it had been a
+question of the weather.
+
+Colonel Jocyln's face clouded, darkened.
+
+"I bring bad news from India, my lady. Captain Everard was a friend of
+yours?"
+
+"Yes; he left his little daughter in my charge."
+
+"I know. You have not heard from him lately?"
+
+"No, and I have been rather anxious. Nothing has befallen the captain, I
+hope?"
+
+The well-trained voice shook a little despite its admirable training,
+and the slender fingers looped and unlooped nervously her watch-chain.
+
+"Yes, Lady Thetford; the very worst that could befall him. George
+Everard is dead."
+
+There was a blank pause. Colonel Jocyln looked grave and downcast and
+sad.
+
+"He was my friend," he said, in a low voice, "my intimate friend for
+many years--a fine fellow and brave as a lion. Many, many nights we have
+lain with the stars of India shining on our bivouac whilst he talked to
+me of you, of England, of his daughter."
+
+Lady Thetford never spoke, never stirred. She was sitting gazing
+steadfastly out of the window at the sparkling sunshine, and Colonel
+Jocyln could not see her face.
+
+"He was as glorious a soldier as ever I knew," the colonel went on; "and
+he died a soldier's death--shot through the heart. They buried him out
+there with military honors, and some of his men cried on his grave like
+children."
+
+There was another blank pause. Still Lady Thetford sat with that fixed
+gaze on the brilliant May sunshine, moveless as stone.
+
+"It is a sad thing for his poor little girl," the Indian officer said;
+"she is fortunate in having such a guardian as you, Lady Thetford."
+
+Lady Thetford awoke from her trance. She had been in a trance, and the
+years had slipped backward, and she had been in her far-off girlhood's
+home, with George Everard, her handsome, impetuous lover, by her side.
+She had loved him then, even when she said no and married another; she
+loved him still, and now he was dead--dead! But she turned to her
+visitor with a face that told nothing.
+
+"I am so sorry--so very, very sorry. My poor little May! Did Captain
+Everard speak of her, of me, before he died?"
+
+"He died instantaneously, my lady. There was no time."
+
+"Ah, no! poor fellow! It is the fortune of war--but it is very sad."
+
+That was all; we may feel inexpressibly, but we can only utter
+commonplaces. Lady Thetford was very, very pale, but her pallor told
+nothing of the dreary pain at her heart.
+
+"Would you like to see little May? I will send for her."
+
+Little May was sent for and came. A brilliant little fairy as ever,
+brightly dressed, with shimmering golden curls and starry eyes. By her
+side stood Sir Rupert--the nine-year-old baronet, growing tall very
+fast, pale and slender still, and looking at the colonel with his
+mother's dark, deep eyes.
+
+Colonel Jocyln held out his hand to the flaxen-haired fairy.
+
+"Come here, little May, and kiss papa's friend. You remember papa, don't
+you?"
+
+"Yes," said May, sitting on his knee contentedly. "Oh, yes! When is papa
+coming home? He said in mamma's letter he would fetch me lots and lots
+of dolls and picture-books. Is he coming home?"
+
+"Not very soon," the colonel said, inexpressibly touched; "but little
+May will go to papa some day. You and mamma, I suppose?" smiling at Lady
+Thetford.
+
+"Yes," nodded May, "that's mamma, and Rupert's mamma. Oh! I am so sorry
+papa isn't coming home soon! Do you know"--looking up in his face with
+big, shining, solemn eyes--"I've got a pony, and I can ride lovely; and
+his name is Snowdrop, because it's all white; and Rupert's is black, and
+_his_ name is Sultan? And I've got a watch; mamma gave it to me last
+Christmas; and my doll's name--the big one, you know, that opens its
+eyes and says 'mamma' and 'papa'--is Sonora. Have you got any little
+girls at home?"
+
+"One, Miss Chatterbox."
+
+"What's her name!"
+
+"Aileen--Aileen Jocyln."
+
+"Is she nice?"
+
+"Very nice, I think."
+
+"Will she come to see me?"
+
+"If you wish it and mamma wishes it."
+
+"Oh, yes! you do, don't you, mamma? How big is your little girl--as big
+as me?"
+
+"Bigger, I fancy. She is nine years old."
+
+"Then she's as big as Rupert--_he's_ nine years old. May she fetch her
+doll to see Sonora?"
+
+"Certainly--a regiment of dolls, if she wishes."
+
+"Can't she come to-morrow?" asked Rupert. "To-morrow's May's birthday;
+May's seven years old to-morrow. Mayn't she come!"
+
+"That must be as mamma says."
+
+"Oh, fetch her!" cried Lady Thetford, "it will be so nice for May and
+Rupert. Only I hope little May won't quarrel with her; she does quarrel
+with her playmates a good deal, I am sorry to say."
+
+"I won't if she's nice," said May; "it's all their fault. Oh, Rupert!
+there's Mrs. Weymore on the lawn, and I want her to come and see the
+rabbits. There's five little rabbits this morning, mamma--mayn't I go
+and show them to Mrs. Weymore?"
+
+Lady Thetford nodded smiling acquiescence; and away ran little May and
+Rupert to show the rabbits to the governess.
+
+Col. Jocyln lingered for half an hour or upward, conversing with his
+hostess, and rose to take his leave at last, with the promise of
+returning on the morrow with his little daughter, and dining at the
+house. As he mounted his horse and rode homeward, "a haunting shape, an
+image gay," followed him through the genial May sunshine--Lady Ada
+Thetford, fair, and stately and graceful.
+
+"Nine years a widow," he mused. "They say she took her husband's death
+very hard--and no wonder, considering how he died; but nine years is a
+tolerable time in which to forget. She took the news of Everard's death
+very quietly. I don't suppose there was ever anything really in that old
+story. How handsome she is, and how graceful!"
+
+He broke off in his musing fit to light a cigar, and see through the
+curling smoke dark-eyed Ada, mamma to little Aileen as well as the other
+two. He had never thought of wanting a wife before, in all these years
+of his widowhood; but the want struck him forcibly now.
+
+"And Aileen wants a mother, and the little baronet a father," he
+thought, complacently; "my lady can't do better."
+
+So next day at the earliest possible hour, came back the gallant
+colonel, and with him a brown-haired, brown-eyed, quiet-looking little
+girl, as tall, every inch, as Sir Rupert. A little embryo patrician,
+with pride in her infantile lineaments already, an uplifted poise of the
+graceful head, a light, elastic step, and a softly-modulated voice. A
+little lady from top to toe, who opened her little brown eyes in wide
+wonder at the antics, and gambols, and obstreperousness, generally, of
+little May.
+
+There were two or three children from the rectory, and half a dozen from
+other families in the neighborhood--and the little birthday feast was
+under the charge of Mrs. Weymore, the governess, pale and pretty, and
+subdued as of old. They raced through the leafy arcades of the park, and
+gamboled in the garden, and had tea in a fairy summer house, to the
+music of plashing fountains--and little May was captain of the band.
+Even shy, still Aileen Jocyln forgot her youthful dignity, and raced and
+laughed with the best.
+
+"It was so nice, papa!" she cried rapturously, riding home in the misty
+moonlight. "I never enjoyed myself so well. I like Rupert so
+much--better than May, you know; May's so rude and laughs so loud. I've
+asked them to come and see me, papa; and May said she would make her
+mamma let them come next week. And then I'm going back--I shall always
+like to go there."
+
+Col. Jocyln smiled as he listened to his little daughter's prattle.
+Perhaps he agreed with her; perhaps he, too, liked to go there. The
+dinner-party, at which he and the rector of St. Gosport, and the
+rector's wife were the only guests, had been quite as pleasant as the
+birthday fete. Very graceful, very fair and stately, had looked the lady
+of the manor, presiding at her own dinner-table. How well she would look
+at the head of his.
+
+The Indian officer, after that, became a very frequent guest at Thetford
+Towers--the children were such a good excuse. Aileen was lonely at home,
+and Rupert and May were always glad to have her. So papa drove her over
+nearly every day, or else came to fetch the other two to Jocyln Hall.
+Lady Thetford was ever most gracious, and the colonel's hopes ran high.
+
+Summer waned. It was October, and Lady Thetford began talking of leaving
+St. Gosport for a season; her health was not good, and change of air was
+recommended.
+
+"I can leave my children in charge of Mrs. Weymore," she said. "I have
+every confidence in her; and she has been with me so long. I think I
+shall depart next week; Dr. Gale says I have delayed too long."
+
+Col. Jocyln looked up uneasily. They were sitting alone together,
+looking at the red October sunset blazing itself out behind the Devon
+hills.
+
+"We shall miss you very much," he said, softly. "I shall miss you."
+
+Something in his tone struck Lady Thetford. She turned her dark eyes
+upon him in surprise and sudden alarm. The look had to be answered;
+rather embarrassed, and not at all so confident as he thought he would
+have been, Col. Jocyln asked Lady Thetford to be his wife.
+
+There was a blank pause. Then,
+
+"I am very sorry, Col. Jocyln, I never thought of this."
+
+He looked at her, pale--alarmed.
+
+"Does that mean no, Lady Thetford?"
+
+"It means no, Col. Jocyln. I have never thought of you save as a friend;
+as a friend I still wish to retain you. I will never marry. What I am
+to-day I will go to my grave. My boy has my whole heart--there is no
+room in it for anyone else. Let us be friends, Col. Jocyln," holding out
+her white jeweled hand, "more, no mortal man can ever be to me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+LADY THETFORD'S BALL.
+
+
+Years came and years went, and thirteen passed away. In all these years
+with their countless changes, Thetford Towers had been a deserted house.
+Comparatively speaking, of course; Mrs. Weymore, the governess, Mrs.
+Hilliard, the housekeeper, Mr. Jarvis, the butler, and their minor
+satellites, served there still, but its mistress and her youthful son
+had been absent. Only little May had remained under Mrs. Weymore's
+charge until within the last two years, and then she, too, had gone to
+Paris to a finishing school.
+
+Lady Thetford came herself to the Towers to fetch her--the only time in
+these thirteen years. She had spent them pleasantly enough, rambling
+about the Continent, and in her villa on the Arno, for her health was
+frail, and growing daily frailer, and demanded a sunny Southern clime.
+The little baronet had gone to Eton, thence to Oxford, passing his
+vacation abroad with his mamma--and St. Gosport had seen nothing of
+them. Lady Thetford had thought it best, for many reasons, to leave
+little May quietly in England during her wanderings. She missed the
+child, but she had every confidence in Mrs. Weymore. The old aversion
+had entirely worn away, but time had taught her she could trust her
+implicitly; and though May might miss "mamma" and Rupert, it was not in
+that flighty fairy's nature to take their absence very deeply to heart.
+
+Jocyln Hall was vacated, too. After that refusal of Lady Thetford, Col.
+Jocyln had left England, placed his daughter in a school abroad, and
+made a tour of the East.
+
+Lady Thetford he had not met until within the last year, when Lady
+Thetford and her son, spending the winter in Rome, had encountered Col.
+and Miss Jocyln, and they had scarcely parted company since. The
+Thetfords were to return early in the spring to take up their abode once
+more in the old home, and Col. Jocyln announced his intention of
+following their example.
+
+Lady Thetford wrote to Mrs. Weymore, her vice-roy, and to her steward,
+issuing her orders for the expected return. Thetford Towers was to be
+completely rejuvenated--new furnished, painted and decorated. Landscape
+gardeners were set at work in the grounds; all things were to be ready
+the following June.
+
+Summer came and brought the absentees--Lady Thetford and her son, Col.
+Jocyln and his daughter; and there were bonfires and illuminations, and
+feasting of tenantry, and ringing of bells, and general jubilation, that
+the heir of Thetford Towers had come to reign at last.
+
+The week following the arrival, Lady Thetford issued invitations over
+half the country for a grand ball. Thetford Towers, after over twenty
+years of gloom and solitude, was coming out again in the old gayety and
+brilliance that had been its normal state before the present heir was
+born.
+
+The night of the ball came, and with nearly every one who had been
+honored with an invitation, all curious to see the future lord of one of
+the noblest domains in broad Devonshire.
+
+Sir Rupert Thetford stood by his mother's side, and met her old friends
+for the first time since his boyhood--a slender young man, pale and
+dark, and handsome of face with dreamy slumbrous eyes of darkness, and
+quiet manners, not at all like his father's fair-haired, bright-eyed,
+stalwart Saxon race; the Thetford blood had run out, he was his own
+mother's son.
+
+Lady Thetford grown pallid and wan, and wasted in all these years, and
+bearing within the seeds of an incurable disease, looked yet fair and
+gracious, and stately in her trailing robes and jewels, to-night,
+receiving her guests like a queen. It was the triumph of her life, the
+desire of her heart, this seeing her son, her idol, reigning in the home
+of his fathers, ruler of the broad domain that had owned the Thetfords
+lord for more years back than she could count.
+
+"If I could but see her his wife," Lady Thetford thought, "I think I
+should have nothing left on earth to desire."
+
+She glanced across the wide room, along a vista of lights, and flitting
+forms, and rich dresses, and sparkling jewels, to where a young lady
+stood, the center of an animated group--a tall and eminently handsome
+girl, with a proud patrician face, and the courtly grace of a young
+empress--Aileen Jocyln, heiress of fabulous wealth, possessor of
+fabulous beauty, and descendant of a race as noble and as ancient as his
+own.
+
+"With her for his wife, come what might in the future, my Rupert would
+be safe," the mother thought; "and who knows what a day may bring forth?
+Ah! if I dared only speak, but I dare not; it would ruin all. I know my
+son."
+
+Yes, Lady Thetford knew her son, understood his character thoroughly,
+and was a great deal too wary a conspirator to let him see her cards.
+Fate, not she, had thrown the heiress and the baronet constantly
+together of late, and Aileen's own beauty and grace was surely
+sufficient for the rest. It was the one desire of Lady Thetford's heart;
+but she never said to her son, who loved her dearly, and would have done
+a great deal to add to her happiness. She left it to fate, and leaving
+it, was doing the wisest thing she could possibly do.
+
+It seemed as if her hopes were likely to be realized. Sir Rupert had an
+artist's and a Sybarite's love for all things beautiful, and could
+appreciate the grand statuesque style of Miss Jocyln's beauty, even as
+his mother could not appreciate it. She was like the Pallas Athine, she
+was his ideal woman, fair and proud, uplifted and serene, smiling on
+all, from the heights of high-and-mightydom, but shining upon them, a
+brilliant far-off star, keeping her warmth and sweetness all for him. He
+was an indolent, dreamy Sybarite, this pale young baronet, who liked his
+rose-leaves unruffled under him, full of artistic tastes and
+inspirations, and a great deal too lazy ever to carry them into effect.
+He was an artist, and he had a studio where he began fifty gigantic
+deeds at once in the way of pictures, and seldom finished one. Nature
+had intended him for an artist, not country squire; he cared little for
+riding, or hunting, or fishing, or farming, or any of the things wherein
+country squires delight; he liked better to lie on the warm grass, with
+the summer wind stirring in the trees over his head, and smoke his
+Turkish pipe, and dream the lazy hours away. If he had been born a poor
+man he might have been a great painter; as it was, he was only an idle,
+listless, elegant, languid dreamer, and so likely to remain until the
+end of the chapter.
+
+Lady Thetford's ball was a very brilliant affair, and a famous success.
+Until far into the gray and dismal dawn, "flute, violin, bassoon," woke
+sweet echoes in the once ghostly rooms, so long where silence had
+reigned. Half the county had been invited, and half the county were
+there; and hosts of pretty, rosy girls, in arcophane and roses, and
+sparkling jewelry, baited their dainty traps, and "wove becks and nods,
+and wreathed smiles," for the special delectation of the handsome
+courtly heir of Thetford Towers.
+
+But the heir of Thetford Towers, with gracious greetings for all, yet
+walked through the rose strewn pitfalls all secure, whilst the starry
+face of Aileen Jocyln shone on him in its pale, high-bred beauty. He had
+not danced much; he had an antipathy to dancing as he had to exertion of
+any kind, and presently he stood leaning against a slender white column,
+watching her in a state of lazy admiration. He could see quite as
+clearly as his mother how eminently proper a marriage with the heiress
+of Col. Jocyln would be; he knew by instinct, too, how much she desired
+it; and it was easy enough, looking at her in her girlish pride and
+beauty, to fancy himself very much in love, and though anything but a
+coxcomb, Sir Rupert Thetford was perfectly aware of his own handsome
+face and dreamy artist's eyes, and his fifteen thousand a year, and
+lengthy pedigree, and had a hazy idea that the handsome Aileen would not
+say no when he spoke.
+
+"And I'll speak to-night, by Jove!" thought the young baronet, as near
+being enthusiastic as was his nature, as he watched her, the brilliant
+center of a brilliant group. "How exquisite she is in her statuesque
+grace, my peerless Aileen, the ideal of my dreams. I'll ask her to be my
+wife to-night, or that inconceivable idiot, Lord Gilbert Penryhn, will
+do it to-morrow."
+
+He sauntered over to the group, not at all insensible to the quick,
+bright smile and flitting flush with which Miss Jocyln welcomed him.
+
+"I believe this waltz is mine, Miss Jocyln. Very sorry to break upon
+your _tete-a-tete_, Penryhn, but necessity knows no law."
+
+A moment and they were floating down the whirling tide of the dance,
+with the wild, melancholy waltz music swelling and sounding, and Miss
+Jocyln's perfumed hair breathing fragrance around him, and the starry
+face and dark, dewy eyes downcast a little, in a happy tremor. The cold,
+still look of fixed pride seemed to melt out of her face, and an
+exquisite rosy light came and went in its place, and made her too lovely
+to tell; and Sir Rupert saw and understood it all, with a little
+complacent thrill of satisfaction.
+
+They floated out of the ball-room into a conservatory of exquisite
+blossom, where tropic plants of gorgeous hues, and plashing fountains,
+under the white light of alabaster lamps, made a sort of garden of Eden.
+There were orange and myrtle trees oppressing the warm air with their
+sweetness, and through the open French windows came the soft, misty
+moonlight and the saline wind. There they stopped, looking out of the
+pale glory of the night, and there Sir Rupert, about to ask the supreme
+question of his life, and with his heart beginning to plunge against his
+side, opened conversation with the usual brilliancy in such cases.
+
+"You look fatigued, Miss Jocyln. These grand balls are great bores,
+after all."
+
+Miss Jocyln laughed frankly. She was of a nature far more impassioned
+than his, and she loved him; and she felt thrilling through every nerve
+in her body the prescience of what he was going to say; for all that,
+being a woman, she had the best of it now.
+
+"I am not at all fatigued," she said; "and I like it. I don't think
+balls are bores--like this, I mean; but then, to be sure, my experience
+is very limited. How lovely the night is! Look at the moonlight, yonder,
+on the sea--a sheet of silvery glory. Does it not recall Sorrento and
+the exquisite Sorrentine landscape--that moonlight on the sea? Are you
+not inspired, sir artist?"
+
+She lifted a flitting, radiant glance, a luminous smile, and the
+star-like face, drooped again--and the white hands took to reckless
+breaking off sweet sprays of myrtle.
+
+"My inspiration is nearer," looking down at the drooping face.
+"Aileen----" and there he stopped, and the sentence was never destined
+to be finished, for a shadow darkened the moonlight, and a figure
+flitted in like a spirit and stood before them--a fairy figure, in a
+cloud of rosy drapery, with shimmering golden curls and dancing eyes of
+turquoise blue.
+
+Aileen Jocyln started back and away from her companion, with a faint,
+thrilling cry. Sir Rupert, wondering and annoyed, stood staring; and
+still the fairy figure in the rosy gauze stood, like a nymph in a stage
+tableau, smiling up in their faces and never speaking. There was a blank
+pause, a moment's; then Miss Jocyln made one step forward, doubt,
+recognition, delight, all in her face at once.
+
+"It is--it is!" she cried, "May Everard!"
+
+"May Everard!" Sir Rupert echoed--"little May!"
+
+"At your service, _monsieur_! To think you should have forgotten me so
+completely in a decade of years. For shame, Sir Rupert Thetford!"
+
+And then she was in Aileen Jocyln's arms, and there was an hiatus filled
+up with kisses.
+
+"Oh! what a surprise!" Miss Jocyln cried breathlessly. "Have you dropped
+from the skies? I thought you were in France."
+
+May Everard laughed, the calm, bright laugh of thirteen years ago, as
+she held up her dimpled cheeks, first one and then the other, to Sir
+Rupert.
+
+"Did you? So I was, but I ran away."
+
+"Ran away! From school?"
+
+"Something very like it. Oh! how stupid it was, and I couldn't endure it
+any longer; and I am so crammed with knowledge now that if I held any
+more I should burst; and so I told them I had to come home; but I was
+sent for, which was true, you know, for I felt an inward call; and as
+they were glad to be rid of me, they didn't make much opposition or ask
+unnecessary questions. And so," folding the fairy hands and nodding her
+little ringleted head, "here I am."
+
+"But, good heavens!" cried Sir Rupert, aghast, "you never mean to say,
+May, you have come alone?"
+
+"All alone," said May, with another nod. "I'm used to it, you know; did
+it last vacation. Came across and spent it with Mrs. Weymore. I don't
+mind it the least; don't know what sea-sickness is; and oh! didn't some
+of the poor wretches suffer this time! Isn't it fortunate I'm here for
+the ball? And, Rupert, good gracious! how you've grown!"
+
+"Thanks. I can't see that you have changed much, Miss Everard. You are
+the same curly-headed, saucy fairy I knew thirteen years ago. What does
+my lady say to this escapade?"
+
+"Nothing. Eloquent silence best expresses her feelings; and then she
+hadn't time to make a scene. Are you going to ask me to dance, Rupert?
+because if you are," said Miss Everard, adjusting her bracelet, "you had
+better do it at once, as I am going back to the ball-room, and after I
+once appear there you will stand no chance amongst the crowd of
+competitors. But then, perhaps you belong to Miss Jocyln?"
+
+"Not at all," Miss Jocyln interposed, hastily, and reddening a little;
+"I am engaged, and it is time I was back, or my unlucky cavalier will be
+at his wit's end to find me."
+
+She swept away with a quicker movement than her wont, and Sir Rupert
+laughingly gave his piquant little partner his arm. His notions of
+propriety were a good deal shocked; but then it was only May Everard,
+and May Everard was one of those exceptionable people who can do pretty
+much as they please, and not surprise any one. They went back to the
+ball-room, the fairy in pink on the arm of the young baronet, chattering
+like a magpie. Miss Jocyln's partner found her and led her off; but Miss
+Jocyln was very silent and _distrait_ all the rest of the night, and
+watched furtively, but incessantly, the fluttering pink fairy. She had
+reigned belle hitherto, but sparkling little May, like an embodied
+sunbeam, electrified the rooms, and took the crown and the sceptre by
+royal right. Sir Rupert had that one dance, and no more--Miss Everard's
+own prophecy was true--the demand for her was such that even the son of
+the house stood not the shadow of a chance.
+
+Miss Jocyln held herself aloof from the young baronet for the remaining
+hours of the ball. She had known as well as he the words that were on
+his lips when May Everard interposed, and her eyes flashed and her dark
+cheek flushed dusky red to see how easily he had been deterred from his
+purpose. For him, he sought her once or twice in a desultory sort of
+way, never noticing that he was purposely avoided, wandering contentedly
+back to devote himself to some one else, and in the pauses to watch May
+Everard floating--a sunbeam in a rosy cloud--here and there and
+everywhere.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+GUY LEGARD.
+
+
+"He meant to have spoken that night; he would have spoken but for May
+Everard. And yet that is two weeks ago, and we have been together since,
+and----"
+
+Aileen Jocyln broke off abruptly, and looked out over the far-spreading,
+gray sea.
+
+The morning was dull, the leaden sky threatening rain, the wind sighing
+fitfully, and the slow, gray sea creeping up the gray sands. Aileen
+Jocyln sat as she had sat since breakfast, aimless and dreary, by her
+dressing-room window, gazing blankly over the pale landscape, her hair
+falling loose and damp over her shoulders, and a novel lying listlessly
+in her lap. The book had no interest; her thoughts would stray, in spite
+of her, to Thetford Towers.
+
+"She is very pretty," Miss Jocyln thought, "with that pink and white
+wax-doll sort of prettiness some people admire. I never thought _he_
+could, with his artistic nature; but I suppose I was mistaken. They call
+her fascinating; I believe that rather hoidenish manner of hers, and all
+those dashing airs, and that 'loud' style of dress and doings, take some
+men by storm. I presume I was mistaken in Sir Rupert, I dare say pretty,
+penniless May will be Lady Thetford before long."
+
+Miss Jocyln's short upper-lip curled rather scornfully, and she rose up
+with a little air of petulance and walked across the room to the
+opposite window. It commanded a view of the lawn and a long wooded
+drive, and, cantering airily up under the waving trees, she saw the
+young lady of whom she had been thinking. The pretty, fleet-footed pony
+and his bright little mistress were by no means rare visitors at Jocyln
+Hall, and Miss Jocyln was always elaborately civil to Miss Everard. Very
+pretty little May looked--all her tinseled curls floating in the breeze,
+like a golden banner; the blue eyes more starily radiant than ever, the
+dark riding-habit and jaunty hat and plume the most becoming things in
+the world. She saw Miss Jocyln at the window, kissed her hand and
+resigned Arab to the groom. A minute more and she was saluting Aileen
+with effusion.
+
+"You solemn Aileen! to sit and mope here in the house, instead of
+improving your health and temper by a breezy canter over the downs.
+Don't contradict; I know you were moping. I should be afraid to tell you
+how many miles Arab and I have got over this morning. And you never came
+to see me yesterday, either. Why was it?"
+
+"I didn't feel inclined," Miss Jocyln answered, truthfully.
+
+"No, you never _do_ feel inclined unless I come and drag you out by
+force; you sit in the house and grow yellow and jaundiced over
+high-church novels. I declare I never met so many lazy people in all my
+life as I have done since I came home. One don't mind mamma, poor thing!
+shutting herself up and the sunshine and fresh air of heaven out; but,
+for you and Rupert! And, speaking of Rupert," ran on Miss Everard in a
+breathless sort of way, "he wanted to commence his great picture of
+'Fair Rosamond and Eleanor' yesterday--and how could he when Eleanor
+never came? Why didn't you--you promised?"
+
+"I changed my mind, I suppose."
+
+"And broke your word--more shame for you, then! Come now."
+
+"No; thanks. It's going to rain."
+
+"Nothing of the sort; and Rupert is _so_ anxious. He would have come
+himself, only my lady is ill to-day with one of her bad headaches, and
+asked him to read her to sleep; and, like the good boy that he is in the
+main, though shockingly lazy, he obeyed. Do come, Aileen; there's a
+dear! Don't be selfish."
+
+Miss Jocyln rose rather abruptly.
+
+"I have no desire to be selfish, Miss Everard. If you will wait ten
+minutes whilst I dress, I will accompany you to Thetford Towers."
+
+She rang the bell and swept from the room, stately and uplifted. May
+looked after her, fidgeting a little.
+
+"Dear me! I suppose she's offended now at that word 'selfish.' I never
+_did_ get on very well with Aileen Jocyln, and I'm afraid I never shall.
+I shouldn't wonder if she were jealous."
+
+Miss Everard laughed a little silvery laugh all to herself, and slapped
+her kid riding-boot with her pretty toy whip.
+
+"I hope I didn't interrupt a tender declaration that night in the
+conservatory, but it looked like it. If I did, I am sure Rupert has had
+fifty chances since, and I know he hasn't availed himself of them, or
+Aileen would never wear that dissatisfied face. I know she's in love
+with _him_, though, to be sure, she would see me impaled with the
+greatest pleasure if she only thought I suspected it; but I'm not so
+certain about him. He's a great deal too indolent in the first place, to
+get up a grand passion for anybody, and I think he's inclined to look
+graciously on me--poor little me--in the second. You may spare yourself
+the trouble, my dear Sir Rupert; for a gentleman whose chief aim in
+existence is to smoke Turkish pipes and lie on the grass and write and
+read poetry is not at all the sort of man I mean to bless for life."
+
+The two girls descended to the court-yard, mounted and rode off. Both
+rode well, and both looked their best on horseback, and made a
+wonderfully pretty picture as they galloped through St. Gosport in
+dashing style, bringing the admiring population in a rush to doors and
+windows. Perhaps Sir Rupert Thetford thought so, too, as he stood at the
+great front entrance to receive them, with a kindling light in his
+artist's eyes.
+
+"May said she would fetch you, and May always keeps her word," he said,
+as he walked slowly up the sweeping staircase; "besides, Aileen, I am to
+have the first sitting for the 'Rosamond and Eleanor' to-day, am I not?
+May calls me an idle dreamer, a useless drone in the busy human hive;
+so, to vindicate my character and cleave a niche in the temple of fame,
+I am going to immortalize myself over this painting."
+
+"You'll never finish it," said May; "it will be like all the rest.
+You'll begin on a gigantic scale and with super-human efforts, and
+you'll cool down and get sick of it before it is half finished, and it
+will go to swell the pile of daubed canvas in your studio now. Don't
+tell me! I know you."
+
+"And have the poorest possible opinion of me, Miss Everard?"
+
+"Yes, I have! I have no patience when I think what you might do, what
+you might become, and see what you are! If you were not Sir Rupert
+Thetford, with a princely income, you might be a great man. As it
+is----"
+
+"As it is!" cried the young baronet, trying to laugh and reddening
+violently, "I will still be a great man--a modern Murillo. Are you not a
+little severe, Miss Everard? Aileen, I believe this is your first visit
+to my studio?"
+
+"Yes," said Miss Jocyln, coldly and briefly. She did not like the
+conversation, and May Everard's familiar home-truths stung her. To her
+he was everything mortal man should be; she was proud, but she was not
+ambitious; what right had this penniless little free-speaker to come
+between them and talk like this?
+
+May was flitting about like the fairy she was, her head a little on one
+side, like a critical canary, her flowing skirt held up, inspecting the
+pictures.
+
+"'Jeanne D'Arc before her Judges,' half finished, as usual, and never to
+be completed; and weak--very, if it ever _was_ completed. 'Battle of
+Bosworth Field,' in flaming colors, all confusion and smoke and red
+ochre and rubbish; you did well not to trouble yourself any more with
+that. 'Swiss Peasant'--ah! that _is_ pretty. 'Storm at Sea,' just
+tolerable. 'Trial of Marie Antoinette.' My dear Rupert, why will you
+persist in these figure paintings when you know your forte is landscape?
+'An Evening in the Eternal City.' Now, that is what I call an exquisite
+little thing! Look at the moon, Aileen, rising over those hill-tops; and
+see those trees--you can almost feel the wind that blows! And that
+prostrate figure--why, that looks like yourself, Rupert!"
+
+"It _is_ myself."
+
+"And the other, stooping--who is he?"
+
+"The painter of that picture, Miss Everard; yes, the only thing in my
+poor studio you see fit to eulogize is not mine. It was done by an
+artist friend--an unknown Englishman, who saved my life in Rome three
+years ago. Come in, mother mine, and defend your son from the two-edged
+sword of May Everard's tongue."
+
+For Lady Thetford, pale and languid, appeared on the threshold, wrapped
+in a shawl.
+
+"It's all for his good, mamma. Come here and look at this 'Evening in
+the Eternal City.' Rupert has nothing like it in all his collection,
+though these are the beginning of many better things. He saved your
+life? How was it?"
+
+"Oh! a little affair with brigands; nothing very thrilling, but I should
+have been killed or captured all the same, if this Legard had not come
+to the rescue. May is right about the picture; he painted well, had come
+to Rome to perfect himself in his art. Very fine fellow, Legard."
+
+"Legard!"
+
+It was Lady Thetford who had spoken sharply and suddenly. She had put up
+her glass to look at the Italian picture, but dropped it, and faced
+abruptly round.
+
+"Yes, Legard. Guy Legard, a young Englishman, about my own age.
+By-the-bye, if you saw him, you would be surprised by his singular
+resemblance to some of those dead and gone Thetfords hanging over there
+in the picture-gallery--fair hair, blue eyes, and the same peculiar cast
+of features to a shade. I was rather taken aback, I confess, when I saw
+it first. My dear mother----"
+
+It was not a cry Lady Thetford had uttered--it was a kind of wordless
+sob. He soon caught her in his arms and held her there, her face the
+color of death.
+
+"Get a glass of water, May--she is subject to these attacks. Quick!"
+
+Lady Thetford drank the water, and sunk back in the chair Aileen wheeled
+up, her face looking awfully corpse-like in contrast to her dark
+garments and dead black hair.
+
+"You should not have left your room," said Sir Rupert, "after your
+attack this morning. Perhaps you had better return and lie down. You
+look perfectly ghastly."
+
+"No," his mother sat up as she spoke and pushed away the glass, "there
+is no necessity for lying down. Don't wear that scared face, May--it was
+nothing, I assure you. Go on with what you were saying, Rupert."
+
+"What I was saying? What was it?"
+
+"About this young artist's resemblance to the Thetfords."
+
+"Oh! well, there's no more to say; that is all. He saved my life and he
+painted that picture, and we were Damon and Pythias over again during my
+stay in Rome. I always _do_ fraternize with those sort of fellows, you
+know; and I left him in Rome, and he promised, if he ever returned to
+England--which he wasn't so sure of--he would run down to Devonshire to
+see me and my painted ancestors, whom he resembles so strongly. That is
+all; and now, young ladies, if you will take your places we will
+commence on the Rosamond and Eleanor. Mother, sit here by this window if
+you want to play propriety, and don't talk."
+
+But Lady Thetford chose to go to her own room, and her son gave her his
+arm thither and left her lying back amongst her cushions in front of the
+fire. It was always chilly in those great and somewhat gloomy rooms, and
+her ladyship was always cold of late. She lay there looking with gloomy
+eyes into the ruddy blaze, and holding her hands over her painfully
+beating heart.
+
+"It is destiny, I suppose," she thought, bitterly; "let me banish him to
+the farthest end of the earth; let me keep him in poverty and obscurity
+all his life, and when the day comes that it is written, Guy Legard will
+be here. Sooner or later the vow I have broken to Sir Noel Thetford must
+be kept; sooner or later Sir Noel's heir will have his own."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+ASKING IN MARRIAGE.
+
+
+A fire burned in Lady Thetford's room, and among piles of silken pillows
+my lady, languid and pale, lay, looking into the leaping flame. It was a
+hot July morning, the sun blazed like a wheel of fire in a sky without a
+cloud, but Lady Thetford was always chilly of late. She drew the crimson
+shawl she wore closer around her, and glanced impatiently now and then
+at the pretty toy clock on the decorated chimney-piece. The house was
+very still; its one disturbing element, Miss Everard, was absent with
+Sir Rupert for a morning canter over the sunny Devon hills.
+
+"How long they stay, and these solitary rides are so dangerous! Oh! what
+will become of me if it is too late, after all! What shall I do if he
+says no?"
+
+There was a quick man's step without--a moment and the door opened, and
+Sir Rupert, "booted and spurred" from his ride, was bending over his
+mother.
+
+"Louise says you sent for me after I left. What is it, mother--you are
+not worse?"
+
+He knelt beside her. Lady Thetford put back the fair brown hair with
+tender touch, and gazed in the handsome face so like her own, with eyes
+full of unspeakable love.
+
+"My boy! my boy!" she murmured, "my darling Rupert! Oh! it _is_ hard, it
+_is_ bitter to have to leave you!"
+
+"Mother!" with a quick look of alarm, "what is it? Are you worse?"
+
+"No worse, Rupert; but no better. My boy, I shall never be better again
+in this world."
+
+"Mother----"
+
+"Hush, my Rupert--wait; you know it is true; and but for leaving you I
+should be glad to go. My life has not been so happy since your father
+died, that I should greatly cling to it."
+
+"But, mother, this won't do; these morbid fancies are worst of all.
+Keeping up one's spirits is half the battle."
+
+"I am not morbid; I merely state a fact--a fact which must preface what
+is to come. Rupert, I know I am dying, and before we part I want to see
+my successor at Thetford Towers."
+
+"My dear mother!" amazedly.
+
+"Rupert, I want to see Aileen Jocyln your wife. No, no; don't interrupt
+me, but believe me, I dislike match-making quite as cordially as you do;
+but my days on earth are numbered, and I must speak before it is too
+late. When we were abroad I thought there never would be occasion; when
+we returned home I thought so, too. Rupert, I have ceased to think so
+since May Everhard's return."
+
+The young man's face flushed suddenly and hotly, but he made no reply.
+
+"How any man in his senses could possibly prefer May to Aileen, is a
+mystery I cannot solve; but then these things puzzle the wisest of us at
+times. Mind, my boy, I don't really say you _do_ prefer May--I should be
+very unhappy if I thought so. I know--I am certain you love Aileen best;
+and I am equally certain she is a thousand times better suited to you.
+Then, as a man of honor, you owe it to her. You have paid Miss Jocyln
+such attentions as no honorable gentleman should pay any lady, save the
+one he means to make his wife."
+
+Lady Thetford's son rose abruptly, and stood leaning against the mantle,
+looking into the fire.
+
+"Rupert, tell me truly, if May Everard had not come here, would you not
+ere this have asked Aileen to be your wife?"
+
+"Yes--no--I don't know! Mother!" the young man cried, impatiently, "what
+has May Everard done that you should treat her like this?"
+
+"Nothing; and I love her dearly, and you know it. But she is not suited
+to you--she is not the woman you should marry."
+
+Sir Rupert laughed--a hard strident laugh.
+
+"I think Miss Everard is much of your opinion, my lady. You might have
+spared yourself all these fears and perplexities, for the simple reason
+that I should have been refused had I asked."
+
+"Rupert?"
+
+"Nay, mother mine, no need to wear that frightened face. I haven't asked
+Miss Everard in so many words to marry me, and she hasn't declined with
+thanks; but she would if I did. I saw enough to-day of that."
+
+"Then you don't care for Aileen?" with a look of blank consternation.
+
+"I care for her very much, mother; and I haven't owned to being
+absolutely in love with our pretty little May. Perhaps I care for one as
+much as the other; perhaps I know in my inmost heart she is the one I
+should marry. That is, if she will marry me."
+
+"You owe it to her to ask her."
+
+"Do I? Very likely; and it would make you happy, my mother?"
+
+He came and bent over her again, smiling down in her wan, anxious face.
+
+"More happy than anything else in this world, Rupert!"
+
+"Then consider it an accomplished fact. Before the sun sets to-day
+Aileen Jocyln shall say yes or no to your son."
+
+He bent and kissed her; then, without waiting for her to speak, wheeled
+round and strode out of the apartment.
+
+"There is nothing like striking whilst the iron is hot," said the young
+man to himself, with a grim sort of smile, as he ran down-stairs.
+
+Loitering on the lawn, he encountered May Everard, still in her
+riding-habit, surrounded by three or four poodle-dogs.
+
+"On the wing again, Rupert? Is it for mamma? She is not worse?"
+
+"No; I am going to Jocyln Hall. Perhaps I shall fetch Aileen back."
+
+May's turquoise blue eyes were lifted with a sudden luminous,
+intelligent flash to his face.
+
+"God speed you! You will certainly fetch Aileen back!"
+
+She held out her hand with a smile that told him she knew all as plainly
+as he knew it himself.
+
+"You have my best wishes, Rupert, and don't linger; I want to
+congratulate Aileen."
+
+Sir Rupert's response to these good wishes was very brief and curt. Miss
+Everard watched him mount and ride off, with a mischievous little smile
+rippling round her rosy lips.
+
+"My lady has been giving the idol of her existence a caudle
+lecture--subject, matrimony," mused Miss Everard, sauntering lazily
+along in the midst of her little dogs: "and really it is high time, if
+she means to have Aileen for a daughter-in-law, for the heir of Thetford
+Towers is rather doubtful that he is not falling in love with me; and
+Aileen is dreadfully jealous and disagreeable; and my lady is anxious
+and fidgeted to death about it; and--oh-h-h! good gracious!"
+
+Miss Everard stopped with a shrill, feminine shriek. She had loitered
+down to the gates, where a young man stood talking to the lodge-keeper,
+with a big Newfoundland dog gamboling ponderously about him. The big
+Newfoundland made an instant dash into Miss Everard's guard of honor,
+with one deep, bass bark, like distant thunder, and which effectually
+drowned the yelps of the poodles. May flew to the rescue, seizing the
+Newfoundland's collar and pulling him back with all the might of two
+little white hands.
+
+"You big, horrid brute!" cried May, with flashing eyes, "how dare you!
+Call off your dog, sir, this instant! Don't you see how he is
+frightening mine!"
+
+She turned imperiously to the Newfoundland's master, the bright eyes
+flashing, the pink cheeks aflame--very pretty, indeed, in her wrath.
+
+"Down, Hector!" called the young man, authoritatively; and Hector, like
+the well-trained animal he was, subsided instantly. "I beg your pardon,
+young lady! Hector, you stir at your peril, sir! I am very sorry he has
+alarmed you."
+
+He doffed his cap with careless grace, and made the angry little lady a
+courtly bow.
+
+"He didn't alarm me," replied May, testily; "he only alarmed my dogs.
+Why, dear me! how very odd!"
+
+Miss Everard, looking full at the young man, had started back with this
+exclamation and stared broadly. A tall, powerful-looking young fellow,
+rather dusty and travel-stained, but eminently gentlemanly, with frank
+blue eyes and profuse fair hair, and a handsome, candid face.
+
+"Yes, Miss May," struck in the lodge-keeper, "it is odd! I see it, too!
+He looks enough like Sir Noel, dead and gone, to be his own son!"
+
+"I beg your pardon," said May, becoming conscious of her wide stare,
+"but is your name Legard, and are you a friend of Sir Rupert Thetford?"
+
+"Yes, to both questions," with a smile that May liked. "You see the
+resemblance too, then. Sir Rupert used to speak of it. Is he at home?"
+
+"Not just now; but he will be very soon, and I know will be glad to see
+Mr. Legard. You had better come in and wait."
+
+"And Hector," said Mr. Legard. "I think I had better leave him behind,
+as I see him eying your guard of honor with anything but a friendly eye.
+I believe I have the pleasure of addressing Miss Everard? Oh!" laughing
+frankly at her surprised face, "Sir Rupert showed me a photograph of
+yours as a child. I have a good memory for faces, and knew you at once."
+
+Miss Everard and Mr. Legard fell easily into conversation at once, as if
+they had been old friends. Lady Thetford's ward was one of those people
+who form their likes and dislikes at first sight, and Mr. Legard's face
+would have been a pretty sure letter of recommendation to him the wide
+world over. May liked his looks; and then he was Sir Rupert's friend,
+and she was never over particular about social forms and customs; and so
+they dawdled about the grounds and through the leafy arcades, in the
+genial sunshine, talking about Sir Rupert and Rome, and art and artists,
+and the thousand and one things that turn up in conversation; and the
+moments slipped by, half hour followed half hour, until May jerked out
+her watch at last, in a sudden fit of recollection, and found, to her
+consternation, it was past two.
+
+"What will mamma say!" cried the young lady, aghast. "And Rupert; I dare
+say he's home to luncheon before this. Let us go back to the house, Mr.
+Legard. I had no idea it was half so late."
+
+Mr. Legard laughed frankly.
+
+"The honesty of that speech is the highest flattery my conversational
+powers ever received, Miss Everard. I am very much obliged to you. Ah!
+by Jove! Sir Rupert himself!"
+
+For riding slowly up under the sunlit trees came the young baronet. As
+Mr. Legard spoke, his glance fell upon them, the young lady and
+gentleman advancing so confidentially with half a dozen curly poodles
+frisking about them. To say Sir Rupert stared would be a mild way of
+putting it--his eyes opened in wide wonder.
+
+"Guy Legard!"
+
+"Thetford! My dear Sir Rupert!"
+
+The baronet leaped off his horse, his eyes lighting, and shook hands
+with the artist, in a burst of heartiness very rare with him.
+
+"Where in the world did you drop from, and how under the sun did you
+come to be _like this_ with May?"
+
+"I leave the explanation to Mr. Legard," said May, blushing a little
+under Sir Rupert's glance, "whilst I go and see mamma, only premising
+that luncheon hour is past, and you had better not linger."
+
+She tripped away, and the two young men followed more slowly into the
+house. Sir Rupert led his friend to his studio, and left him to inspect
+the pictures.
+
+"Whilst I speak a word to my mother," he said; "it will detain me hardly
+an instant."
+
+"All right!" said Mr. Legard, boyishly. "Don't hurry yourself on my
+account, you know."
+
+Lady Thetford lay where her son had left her--lay as if she had hardly
+stirred since. She looked up and half rose as he came in, her eyes
+painfully, intensely anxious. But his face, grave and quiet, told
+nothing.
+
+"Well," she panted, her eyes glittering.
+
+"It is well, mother. Aileen Jocyln has promised to become my wife."
+
+"Thank God!"
+
+Lady Thetford sunk back, her hands clasped tightly over her heart, its
+loud beating plainly audible. Her son looked down at her, his face
+keeping its steady gravity--none of the rapture of an accepted lover
+there.
+
+"You are content, mother?"
+
+"More than content, Rupert. And you?"
+
+He smiled and, stooping, kissed the warm, pallid face. "I would do a
+great deal to make you happy, mother; but I would _not_ ask a woman I
+did not love to be my wife. Be at rest; all is well with me. And now I
+must leave you, if you will not go down to luncheon."
+
+"I think not; I am not strong to-day. Is May waiting?"
+
+"More than May. A friend of mine has arrived, and will stay with us for
+a few weeks."
+
+Lady Thetford's face had been flushed and eager, but at the last words
+it suddenly blanched.
+
+"A friend, Rupert! Who?"
+
+"You have heard me speak of him before," he said carelessly; "his name
+is Guy Legard."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+ON THE WEDDING EVE.
+
+
+The family at Thetford Towers were a good deal surprised, a few hours
+later that day, by the unexpected appearance of Lady Thetford at dinner.
+Wan as some spirit of the moonlight, she came softly in, just as they
+entered the dining-room, and her son presented his friend, Mr. Legard,
+at once.
+
+"His resemblance to the family will be the surest passport to your
+favor, mother mine," Sir Rupert said, gayly. "Mrs. Weymore met him just
+now, and recoiled with a shriek, as though she had seen a ghost.
+Extraordinary, isn't it--this chance resemblance?"
+
+"Extraordinary," Lady Thetford said, "but not at all unusual. Of course,
+Mr. Legard is not even remotely connected with the Thetford family?"
+
+She asked the question without looking at him. She kept her eyes fixed
+on her plate, for that frank, fair face before her was terrible to her,
+almost as a ghost. It was the days of her youth over again, and Sir
+Noel, her husband, once more by her side.
+
+"Not that I am aware of," Mr. Legard said, running his fingers through
+his abundant brown hair. "But I may be for all that. I am like the hero
+of a novel--a mysterious orphan--only, unfortunately, with no
+identifying strawberry mark on my arm. Who my parents were, or what my
+real name is, I know no more than I do of the biography of the man in
+the moon."
+
+There was a murmur of astonishment--May and Rupert vividly interested,
+Lady Thetford white as a dead woman her eyes averted, her hand trembling
+as if palsied.
+
+"No," said Mr. Legard, gravely, and a little sadly, "I stand as totally
+alone in this world as a human being can stand--father, mother, brother,
+sister, I never have known; a nameless, penniless waif, I was cast upon
+the world four-and-twenty years ago. Until the age of twelve I was
+called Guy Vyking; then the friends with whom I had lived left England
+for America, and a man--a painter, named Legard--took me and gave me his
+name. And there the romance comes in: a lady, a tall, elegant lady, too
+closely veiled for us to see her face, came to the poor home that was
+mine, paid those who had kept me from my infancy, and paid Legard for
+his future care of me. I have never seen her since; and I sometimes
+think," his voice failing, "that she may have been my mother."
+
+There was a sudden clash, and a momentary confusion. My lady, lifting
+her glass with that shaking hand, had let it fall, and it was shivered
+to atoms on the floor.
+
+"And you never saw the lady afterward?" May asked.
+
+"Never. Legard received regular remittances, mailed, oddly enough, from
+your town here--Plymouth. The lady told him, if he ever had occasion to
+address her--which he never did have, that I know of--to address Madam
+Ada, Plymouth! He brought me up, educated me, taught me his art and
+died. I was old enough then to comprehend my position, and the first use
+I made of that knowledge was to return 'Madam Ada' her remittances, with
+a few sharp lines that effectually put an end to hers."
+
+"Have you never tried to ferret out the mystery of your birth and this
+Madam Ada?" inquired Sir Rupert.
+
+Mr. Legard shook his head.
+
+"No; why should I? I dare say I should have no reason to be proud of my
+parents if I did find them, and they evidently were not very proud of
+me. 'Where ignorance is bliss,' etc. If destiny has decreed it, I shall
+know, sooner or later; if destiny has not, then my puny efforts will be
+of no avail. But if presentiments mean anything, I shall one day know;
+and I have no doubt, if I searched Devonshire, I should find Madam Ada."
+
+May Everard started up with a cry, for Lady Thetford had fallen back in
+one of those sudden spasms to which she had lately become subject. In
+the universal consternation Guy Legard and his story were forgotten.
+
+"I hope what _I_ said had nothing to do with this," he cried, aghast;
+and the one following so suddenly upon the other made the remark natural
+enough. But Sir Rupert turned upon him in haughty surprise.
+
+"What _you_ said! Lady Thetford, unfortunately, has been subject to
+these attacks for the past two years, Mr. Legard. That will do, May; let
+me assist my mother to her room."
+
+May drew back. Lady Thetford was able to rise, ghastly and trembling,
+and, supported by her son's arm, walked from the room.
+
+"Lady Thetford's health is very delicate, I fear," Mr. Legard murmured,
+sympathetically. "I really thought for a moment my story-telling had
+occasioned her sudden illness."
+
+Miss Everard fixed a pair of big, shining eyes in solemn scrutiny on his
+face--that face so like the pictured one of Sir Noel Thetford.
+
+"A very natural supposition," thought the young lady; "so did _I_."
+
+"You never knew Sir Noel?" Guy Legard said, musingly; "but, of course,
+you did not. Sir Rupert has told me he died before he was born."
+
+"I never saw him," said May; "but those who have seen him in this
+house--our housekeeper, for instance--stand perfectly petrified at your
+extraordinary likeness to him. Mrs. Hilliard says you have given her a
+'turn' she never expects to get over."
+
+Mr. Legard smiled, but was grave again directly.
+
+"It is odd--odd--very odd!"
+
+"Yes," said May Everard, with a sagacious nod; "a great deal, too, to be
+a chance resemblance. Hush! here comes Rupert. Well, how have you left
+mamma?"
+
+"Better; Louise is with her. And now to finish dinner; I have an
+engagement for the evening."
+
+Sir Rupert was strangely silent and _distrait_ all through dinner, a
+darkly thoughtful shadow glooming his ever pale face. A supposition had
+flashed across his mind that turned him hot and cold by turns--a
+supposition that was almost a certainty. This striking resemblance of
+the painter Legard to his dead father was no freak of nature, but a
+retributive Providence revealing the truth of his birth. It came back to
+his memory with painfully acute clearness that his mother had sunk down
+once before in a violent tremor and faintness at the mere sound of his
+name. Legard had spoken of a veiled lady--Madam Ada, Plymouth, her
+address. Could his mother--his--be that mysterious arbiter of his fate?
+The name--the place. Sir Rupert Thetford wrenched his thoughts, by a
+violent effort, away, shocked at himself.
+
+"It cannot be--it cannot!" he said to himself passionately. "I am mad to
+harbor such thoughts. It is a desecration of the memory of the dead, a
+treason to the living. But I wish Guy Legard had never come here."
+
+There was one other person at Thetford Towers strangely and strongly
+affected by Mr. Guy Legard, and that person, oddly enough, was Mrs.
+Weymore, the governess. Mrs. Weymore had never even seen the late Sir
+Noel that any one knew of, and yet she had recoiled with a shrill,
+feminine cry of utter consternation at sight of the young man.
+
+"I don't see why you should get the fidgets about it, Mrs. Weymore,"
+Miss Everard remarked, with her great, bright eyes suspiciously keen;
+"you never knew Sir Noel."
+
+Mrs. Weymore sunk down on a lounge in a violent tremor and faintness.
+
+"My dear, I beg your pardon. I--it seems strange, Oh, May!" with a
+sudden, sharp cry, losing self-control, "who _is_ that young man?"
+
+"Why, Mr. Guy Legard, artist," answered May, composedly, the bright eyes
+still on the alert; "formerly--in 'boyhood's sunny hours,' you
+know--Master Guy. Let--me--see! Yes, Vyking."
+
+"Vyking!" with a spasmodic cry; and then Mrs. Weymore dropped her white
+face in her hands, trembling from head to foot.
+
+"Well, upon my word," Miss Everard said, addressing empty space, "this
+does cap the globe! The Mysteries of Udolpho were plain reading compared
+to Mr. Guy Vyking and the effect he produces upon the people. He's a
+very handsome young man, and a very agreeable young man; but I should
+never have suspected he possessed the power of throwing all the elderly
+ladies he meets into gasping fits. There's Lady Thetford: he was too
+much for her, and she had to be helped out of the dining-room; and
+here's Mrs. Weymore going into hysterics because he used to be called
+Guy Vyking. I thought my lady might be the veiled lady of his story; but
+now I think it must have been you."
+
+Mrs. Weymore looked up, her very lips white.
+
+"The veiled lady? What lady? May, tell me all you know of Mr. Vyking."
+
+"Not Vyking now--Legard," answered May; and there-upon the young lady
+detailed the scanty _resume_ the artist had given them of his history.
+
+"And I'm very sure it isn't chance at all," concluded May Everard,
+transfixing the governess with an unwinking stare; "and Mr. Legard is as
+much a Thetford as Sir Rupert himself. I don't pretend to divination, of
+course, and I don't clearly see how it is; but it is, and you know it,
+Mrs. Weymore; and you could enlighten the young man, and so could my
+lady, if either of you chose."
+
+Mrs. Weymore turned suddenly and caught May's two hands in hers.
+
+"May, if you care for me, if you have any pity, don't speak of this. I
+_do_ know--but I must have time. My head is in a whirl. Wait, wait, and
+don't tell Mr. Legard."
+
+"I won't," said May; "but it is all very strange and very mysterious,
+delightfully like a three-volume novel or a sensation play. I'm getting
+very much interested in the hero of the performance, and I'm afraid I
+shall be deplorably in love with him shortly if this sort of thing keeps
+on."
+
+Mr. Legard himself took the matter much more coolly than any one else;
+smoked cigars philosophically, criticised Sir Rupert's pictures, did a
+little that way himself, played billiards with his host and chess with
+Miss Everard, rode with that young lady, walked with her, sang duets
+with her in a deep melodious bass, made himself fascinating, and took
+the world easy.
+
+"It is no use getting into a gale about these things," he said to Miss
+Everard when she wondered aloud at his constitutional phlegm; "the
+crooked things will straighten of themselves if we give them time. What
+is written is written. I know I shall find out all about myself one
+day--like little Paul Dombey, 'I feel it in my bones.'"
+
+Mr. Legard was thrown a good deal upon Miss Everard's resources for
+amusement; for, of course, Sir Rupert's time was chiefly spent at Jocyln
+Hall, and Mr. Legard bore this with even greater serenity than the
+other. Miss Everard was a very charming little girl, with a laugh that
+was sweeter than the music of the spheres and hundreds of bewitching
+little ways; and Mr. Legard undertook to paint her portrait, and found
+it the most absorbing work of art he had ever undertaken. As for the
+young baronet spending his time at Jocyln Hall, they never missed him.
+His wooing sped on smoothest wings--Col. Jocyln almost as much pleased
+as my lady herself; and the course of true love in this case ran as
+smooth as heart could wish.
+
+Miss Jocyln, as a matter of course, was a great deal at Thetford Towers,
+and saw with evident gratification the growing intimacy of Mr. Legard
+and May. It would be an eminently suitable match, Miss Jocyln thought,
+only it was a pity so much mystery shrouded the gentleman's birth.
+Still, he was a gentleman, and, with his talents, no doubt would become
+an eminent artist; and it would be highly satisfactory to see May fix
+her erratic affections on somebody, and thus be doubly out of her--Miss
+Jocyln's--way.
+
+The wedding preparations were going briskly forward. There was no need
+of delay; all were anxious for the marriage--Lady Thetford more than
+anxious, on account of her declining health. The hurry to have the
+ceremony irrevocably over had grown to be something very like a
+monomania with her.
+
+"I feel that my days are numbered," she said, with impatience, to her
+son, "and I cannot rest in my grave, Rupert, until I see Aileen your
+wife."
+
+So Sir Rupert, more than anxious to please his mother, hastened on the
+wedding. An eminent physician, summoned down from London, confirmed my
+lady's own fears.
+
+"Her life hung by a thread," this gentleman said, confidentially to Sir
+Rupert, "the slightest excitement may snap it at any moment. Don't
+contradict her--let everything be as she wishes. Nothing can save her,
+but perfect quiet and repose may prolong her existence."
+
+The last week of September the wedding was to take place; and all was
+bustle and haste at Jocyln Hall. Mr. Legard was to stay for the wedding,
+at the express desire of Lady Thetford herself. She had seen him but
+very rarely since that first day, illness had compelled her to keep her
+room; but her interest in him was unabated, and she had sent for him to
+her apartment, and invited him to remain. And Mr. Legard, a good deal
+surprised, and a little flattered, consented at once.
+
+"Very kind of Lady Thetford, you know, Miss Everard," Mr. Legard said,
+sauntering into the room where she sat with her ex-governess--Mr. Legard
+and Miss Everard were growing highly confidential of late--"to take such
+an interest in an utter stranger as she does in me."
+
+May stole a glance from under her eyelashes at Mrs. Weymore; that lady
+sat nervous and scared-looking, and altogether uncomfortable, as she had
+a habit of doing in the young artist's presence.
+
+"Very," Miss Everard said, dryly. "You ought to feel highly
+complimented, Mr. Legard, for it's a sort of kindness her ladyship is
+extremely chary of to utter strangers. Rather odd, isn't it, Mrs.
+Weymore?"
+
+Mrs. Weymore's reply was a distressed, beseeching look. Mr. Legard saw
+it, and opened very wide his handsome, Saxon eyes.
+
+"Eh?" he said, "it doesn't mean anything, does it? Mrs. Weymore looks
+mysterious, and I'm so stupid about these things. Lady Thetford doesn't
+know anything about me, does she?"
+
+"Not that _I_ know of," May said, with significant emphasis on the
+personal pronoun.
+
+"Then Mrs. Weymore does! By Jove! I always thought Mrs. Weymore had an
+odd way of looking at me! And now, what is it?"
+
+He turned his fair, resolute face to that lady with a smile hard to
+resist.
+
+"I don't make much of a howling about my affairs, you know, Mrs.
+Weymore," he said; "but for all that, I am none the less interested in
+myself and my history. If you can open the mysteries a little you will
+be conferring a favor on me I can never repay. And I am positive from
+your look you can."
+
+Mrs. Weymore turned away, and covered her face with a sort of sob. The
+young lady and gentleman exchanged startled glances.
+
+"You can then?" Mr. Legard said, gravely, but growing very pale. "You
+know who I am?"
+
+To his boundless consternation Mrs. Weymore rose up and fell at his
+feet, seizing his hands and covering them with kisses.
+
+"I do! I do! I know who you are, and so shall you before this wedding
+takes place. But before I tell you I must speak to Lady Thetford."
+
+Mr. Legard raised her up, his face as colorless as her own.
+
+"To Lady Thetford! What has Lady Thetford to do with me?"
+
+"Everything! She knows who you are as well as I do. I must speak to her
+first."
+
+"Answer me one thing--is my name Vyking?"
+
+"No. Pray, pray don't ask me any more questions. As soon as her ladyship
+is a little stronger, I will go to her and obtain her permission to
+speak. Keep what I have said a secret from Sir Rupert, and wait until
+then."
+
+She rose up to go, so haggard and deploring-looking, that neither strove
+to detain her. The young man stared blankly after her as she left the
+room.
+
+"At last!" he said, drawing a deep breath, "at last I shall know!"
+
+There was a pause; then May spoke in a fluttering little voice.
+
+"How very strange that Mrs. Weymore should know, of all persons in the
+world."
+
+"Who is Mrs. Weymore? How long has she been here? Tell me all you know
+of her, Miss Everard."
+
+"And that 'all' will be almost nothing. She came down from London as a
+nursery-governess to Rupert and me, a week or two after my arrival here,
+selected by the rector of St. Gosport. She was then what you see her
+now, a pale, subdued creature in widow's weeds, with the look of one who
+had seen trouble. I have known her so long, and always as such a white,
+still shadow, I suppose that is why it seems so odd."
+
+Mrs. Weymore kept altogether out of Mr. Legard's way for the next week
+or two. She avoided May also, as much as possible, and shrunk so
+palpably from any allusion to the past scene, that May good naturedly
+bided her time in silence, though almost as impatient as Mr. Legard
+himself.
+
+And whilst they waited the bridal eve came round, and Lady Thetford was
+much better, not able to quit her room, but strong enough to lie on a
+sofa and talk to her son and Col. Jocyln, with a flush on her cheek and
+sparkle in her eye--all unusual there.
+
+The marriage was to take place in the village church; and there was to
+follow a grand ceremonial of a wedding-breakfast; and then the happy
+pair were to start at once on their bridal-tour.
+
+"And I hope to see my boy return," Lady Thetford said, kissing him
+fondly. "I can hardly ask for more than that."
+
+Late in the afternoon of that eventful wedding-eve, the ex-governess
+sought out Guy Legard, for the first time of her own accord. She found
+him in the young baronet's studio, with May, putting the finishing
+touches to that young lady's portrait. He started up at sight of his
+visitor, vividly interested. Mrs. Weymore was paler even than usual, but
+with a look of deep, quiet determination on her face no one had ever
+seen there before.
+
+"You have come to keep your promise," the young man cried--"to tell me
+who I am?"
+
+"I have come to keep my promise," Mrs. Weymore answered; "but I must
+speak to my lady first. I wanted to tell you that, before you sleep
+to-night, you shall know."
+
+She left the studio, and the two sat there, breathless, expectant. Sir
+Rupert was dining at Jocyln Hall, Lady Thetford was alone in high
+spirits, and Mrs. Weymore was admitted at once.
+
+"I wonder how long you must wait?" said May Everard.
+
+"Heaven knows! Not long, I hope, or I shall go mad with impatience."
+
+An hour passed--two--three, and still Mrs. Weymore was closeted with my
+lady, and still the pair in the studio waited.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+MRS. WEYMORE'S STORY.
+
+
+Lady Thetford sat up among her pillows and looked at her hired dependent
+with wide open eyes of astonishment. The pale, timid face of Mrs.
+Weymore wore a look altogether new.
+
+"Listen to your story! My dear Mrs. Weymore, what possible interest can
+your story have for me?"
+
+"More than you think, my lady. You are so much stronger to-day than
+usual, and Sir Rupert's marriage is so very near that I must speak now
+or never."
+
+"Sir Rupert!" my lady gasped. "What has your story to do with Sir
+Rupert?"
+
+"You will hear," Mrs. Weymore said, very sadly. "Heaven knows I should
+have told you long ago; but it is a story few would care to tell. A
+cruel and shameful story of wrong and misery; for, my lady, I have been
+cruelly wronged by one who was once very near to you."
+
+Lady Thetford turned ashen white.
+
+"Very near to me! Do you mean----"
+
+"My lady, listen, and you shall hear. All those years that I have been
+with you, I have not been what I seemed. My name is not Weymore. My name
+is Thetford--as yours is."
+
+An awful terror had settled down on my lady's face. Her lips moved, but
+she did not speak. Her eyes were fixed on the sad, set face before her,
+with a wild, expectant stare.
+
+"I was a widow when I came to you," Mrs. Weymore went on to say, "but
+long before I had known that worst widowhood, desertion. I ran away from
+my happy home, from the kindest father and mother that ever lived; I ran
+away and was married and deserted before I was eighteen years old.
+
+"He came to our village, a remote place, my lady, with a local celebrity
+for its trout streams, and for nothing else. He came, the man whom I
+married, on a visit to the great house of the place. We had not the
+remotest connection with the house, or I might have known his real name.
+When I did know him it was as Mr. Noel--he told me himself, and I never
+thought of doubting it. I was as simple and confiding as it is possible
+for the simplest village girl to be, and all the handsome stranger told
+me was gospel truth; and my life only began, I thought, from the hour I
+saw him first.
+
+"I met him at the trout streams fishing, and alone. I had come to while
+the long, lazy hours under the trees. He spoke to me--the handsome
+stranger, whom I had seen riding through the village beside the squire,
+like a young prince; and I was only too pleased and flattered by his
+notice. It is many years ago, my lady, and Mr. Noel took a fancy to my
+pink-and-white face and fair curls, as fine gentlemen will. It was only
+fancy--never, at its best, love; or he would not have deserted me
+pitilessly as he did. I know it now; but then I took the tinsel for pure
+gold, and would as soon have doubted the Scripture as his lightest word.
+
+"My lady, it is a very old story, and very often told. We met by stealth
+and in secret; and weeks passed and I never learned he was other than
+what I knew him. I loved with my whole foolish, trusting heart, strongly
+and selfishly; and I was ready to give up home, and friends and
+parents--all the world for him. All the world, but not my good name, and
+he knew that; and, my lady, we were married--really and truly and
+honestly married, in a little church in Berkshire, in Windsor; and the
+marriage is recorded in the register of the church, and I have the
+marriage certificate here in my possession."
+
+Mrs. Weymore touched her bosom as she spoke, and looked with earnest,
+truthful eyes at Lady Thetford. But Lady Thetford's face was averted and
+not to be seen.
+
+"His fancy for me was as fleeting as all his fancies; but it was strong
+enough and reckless enough whilst it lasted to make him forget all
+consequences. For it was surely a reckless act for a gentleman, such as
+he was, to marry the daughter of a village schoolmaster.
+
+"There was but one witness to our marriage--my husband's servant--George
+Vyking. I never liked the man; he was crafty, and cunning, and
+treacherous, and ready for any deed of evil; but he was in his master's
+confidence, and took a house for us at Windsor and lived with us, and
+kept his master's secrets well."
+
+Mrs. Weymore paused, her hands fluttering in painful unrest. The averted
+face of Lady Thetford never turned, but a smothered voice bade her go
+on.
+
+"A year passed, my lady, and I still lived in the house at Windsor, but
+quite alone now. My punishment had begun very early; two or three months
+sufficed to weary my husband of his childish village girl, and make him
+thoroughly repent his folly. I saw it from the first--he never tried to
+hide it from me; his absence grew longer and longer, more and more
+frequent, until at last he ceased coming altogether. Vyking, the valet,
+came and went; and Vyking told me the truth--the hard, cruel, bitter
+truth, that I was never to see my husband more.
+
+"'It was the maddest act of a mad young man's life,' Vyking said to me,
+coolly, 'and he's repented of it, as I knew he would repent. You'll
+never see him again, mistress, and you needn't search for him, either.
+When you find last winter's snow, last autumn's partridges, then you may
+hope to find him.'
+
+"'But I am his wife,' I said; 'nothing can undo that--his lawful, wedded
+wife.'
+
+"'Yes,' said Vyking, 'his wife fast enough; but there's the law of
+divorce, and there's no witness but me alive, and you can do your best;
+and the best you can do is to take it easy and submit. He'll provide for
+you handsomely; and when he gets the divorce, if you like, I'll marry
+you myself.'
+
+"I had grown to expect some such revelation, I had been neglected so
+long. My lady, I don't speak of my feelings, my anguish and shame, and
+remorse and despair--I only tell you here simple facts. But in the days
+and weeks which followed, I suffered as I never can suffer again in this
+world.
+
+"I was held little better than a prisoner in the house at Windsor after
+that; and I think Vyking never gave up the hope that I would one day
+consent to marry him. More than once I tried to run away, to get on the
+track of my betrayer, but always to be met and foiled. I have gone down
+on my knees to that man Vyking, but I might as well have knelt to a
+statue of stone.
+
+"'I'll tell you what we'll do,' he said, 'we'll go to London. People are
+beginning to look and talk about here; there they know how to mind their
+own business.'
+
+"I consented readily enough. My one hope now was to find the man who had
+wronged me, and in London I thought I stood a better chance that at
+Windsor. We started, Vyking and I; but driving to the station we met
+with an accident, our horse ran away and I was thrown out; after that I
+hardly remember anything for a long time.
+
+"Weeks passed before I recovered. Then I was told my baby had been born
+and died. I listened in a sort of dull apathy; I had suffered so much
+that the sense of suffering was dulled and blunted. I knew Vyking well
+enough not to trust him or believe him; but I was powerless to act, and
+could only turn my face to the wall and pray to die.
+
+"But I grew strong, and Vyking took me to London, and left me in
+respectably-furnished lodgings. I might have escaped easily enough here,
+but the energy even to wish for freedom was gone; I sat all day long in
+a state of miserable, listless languor, heart-weary, heart-sick, worn
+out.
+
+"One day Vyking came to my rooms in a furious state of passion. He and
+his master had quarreled. I never knew about what; and Vyking had been
+ignominiously dismissed. The valet tore up and down my parlor in a
+towering passion.
+
+"'I'll make Sir Noel pay for it, or my name's not Vyking,' he cried. 'He
+thinks because he's married an heiress he can defy me now. But there's a
+law in this land to punish bigamy; and I'll have him up for bigamy the
+moment he's back from his wedding tour.'
+
+"I turned and looked at him, but very quietly, 'Sir Noel,' I said. 'Do
+you mean my husband?'
+
+"'I mean Miss Vandeleur's husband now,' said Vyking. '_You'll_ never see
+him again, my girl. Yes, he's Sir Noel Thetford, of Thetford Towers,
+Devonshire; and you can go and call on his pretty new wife as soon as
+she comes home.'
+
+"I turned away and looked out of the window without a word. Vyking
+looked at me curiously.
+
+"'Oh! we've got over it, have we; and we're going to take it easy and
+not make a scene? Now that's what I call sensible. And you'll come
+forward and swear Sir Noel guilty of bigamy?"
+
+"'No,' I said, 'I never will.'
+
+"'You won't--and why not?'
+
+"'Never mind why. I don't think you would understand if I told you--only
+I won't.'
+
+"'Couldn't you be coaxed?'
+
+"'No.'
+
+"'Don't be too sure. Perhaps I could tell you something that might move
+you, quiet as you are. What if I told you your baby did not die that
+time, but was alive and well?'
+
+"I knew a scene was worse than useless with this man, tears and
+entreaties thrown away. I heard his last words and started to my feet
+with outstretched hands.
+
+"'Vyking, for the dear Lord's sake, have pity on a desolate woman, and
+tell me the truth.'
+
+"'I am telling you the truth. Your boy is alive and well, and I've
+christened him Guy--Guy Vyking. Don't you be scared--he's all safe; and
+the day you appear in court against Sir Noel, that day he shall be
+restored to you. Now don't you go and get excited, think it over, and
+let me know your decision when I come back.'
+
+"He left the room before I could answer, and I never saw Vyking again.
+The next day, reading the morning paper, I saw the arrest of a pair of
+house-breakers, and the name of the chief was George Vyking, late valet
+to Sir Noel Thetford. I tried to get to see him in prison, but failed.
+His trial came on, his sentence was transportation for ten years; and
+Vyking left England, carrying my secret with him.
+
+"I had something left to live for now--the thought of my child. But
+where was I to find him, where to look? I, who had not a penny in the
+wide world. If I had had the means, I would have come to Devonshire to
+seek out the man who had so basely wronged me; but as I was, I could as
+soon have gone to the antipodes. Oh! it was a bitter, bitter time, that
+long, hard struggle, with starvation--a time it chills my blood even now
+to look back upon.
+
+"I was still in London, battling with grim poverty, when, six months
+later, I read in the _Times_ the awfully sudden death of Sir Noel
+Thetford, Baronet.
+
+"My lady, I am not speaking of the effect of that blow--I dare not to
+you, as deeply wronged as myself. You were with him in his dying
+moments, and surely he told you the truth then; surely he acknowledged
+the great wrong he had done you?"
+
+Mrs. Weymore paused, and Lady Thetford turned her face, her ghastly,
+white face, for the first time, to answer.
+
+"He did--he told me all; I know your story to be true."
+
+"Thank God! Oh, thank God! And he acknowledged his first marriage?"
+
+"Yes; the wrong he did you was venial to that which he did me--I, who
+never was his wife, never for one poor moment had a right to his name."
+
+Mrs. Weymore sunk down on her knees by the couch, and passionately
+kissed the lady's hand.
+
+"My lady! my lady! And you will forgive me for coming here? I did not
+know, when I answered Mr. Knight's advertisement, where I was coming;
+and when I did, I could not resist the temptation of looking on his son.
+Oh, my lady! you will forgive me, and bear witness to the truth of my
+story."
+
+"I will; I always meant to before I died. And that young man--that Guy
+Legard--you know he is your son?"
+
+"I knew it from the first. My lady, you will let me tell him at once,
+will you not? And Sir Rupert? Oh, my lady! he ought to know."
+
+Lady Thetford covered her face with a groan.
+
+"I promised his father on his death-bed to tell him long ago, to seek
+for his rightful heir--and see how I have kept my word. But I could
+not--I could not! It was not in human nature--not in such a nature as
+mine, wronged as I have been."
+
+"But now--oh, my dear lady! now you will?"
+
+"Yes, now, on the verge of the grave, I may surely speak. I dare not die
+with my promise unkept. This very night," Lady Thetford cried, sitting
+up, flushed and excited, "my boy shall know all--he shall not marry in
+ignorance of whom he really is. Aileen has the fortune of a princess;
+and Aileen will not love him less for the title he must lose. When he
+comes home, Mrs. Weymore, send him to me, and send your son with him,
+and I will tell them all."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+"THERE IS MANY A SLIP."
+
+
+A room that was like a picture--a carpet of rose-buds gleaming through
+rich green moss, lounges piled with downy-silk pillows, a bed curtained
+in foamy lace, a pretty room--Aileen Jocyln's _chambre-a-coucher_, and
+looking like a picture herself, in a flowing morning-robe, the rich,
+dark hair falling heavy and unbound to her waist, Aileen Jocyln lay
+among piles of scarlet cushions, like some young Eastern Sultana.
+
+Lay and music with, oh! such an infinitely happy smile upon her
+exquisite face; mused, as happy youth, loving and beloved, upon its
+bridal-eve doth muse. Nay, on her bridal-day, for the dainty little
+French clock on the bracket was pointing its golden hands to three.
+
+The house was very still; all had retired late, busy with preparations
+for the morrow, and Miss Jocyln had but just dismissed her maid. Every
+one, probably, but herself, was asleep; and she, in her unutterable
+bliss, was too happy for slumber. She arose presently, walked to the
+window and looked out. The late setting moon still swung in the sky; the
+stars still spangled the cloudless blue, and shone serene on the purple
+bosom of the far-spreading sea; but in the east the first pale glimmer
+of the new day shone--her happy wedding day. The girl slid down on her
+knees, her hands clasped, her radiant face glorified with love and
+bliss, turned ecstatically, as some faithful follower of the prophet
+might, to that rising glory of the east.
+
+"Oh!" Aileen thought, gazing around over the dark, deep sea, the
+star-gemmed sky, and the green radiance and sweetness of the earth,
+"what a beautiful, blissful world it is, and I the happiest creature in
+it!"
+
+Kneeling there, with her face still turned to that luminous East, the
+blissful bride fell asleep; slept, and dreamed dreams as joyful as her
+waking thoughts, and no shadow of that sweeping cloud that was to
+blacken all her world so soon fell upon her.
+
+Hours passed, and still Aileen slept. Then came an imperative knock at
+her door--again and again, louder each time; and then Aileen started up,
+fully awake. Her room was flooded with sunshine, and countless birds
+sang their glorias in the swaying green gloom of the branches, and the
+ceaseless sea was all a-glitter with sparkling sun-light.
+
+"Come in," Miss Jocyln said. It was her maid, she thought--and she
+walked over to an arm-chair and composedly sat down.
+
+The door opened, and Col. Jocyln, not Fanchon, appeared, an open note in
+his hand, his face full of trouble.
+
+"Papa!" Aileen cried, starting up in alarm.
+
+"Bad news, my daughter--very bad! very sorrowful! Read that."
+
+The note was very brief, in a spidery, female hand.
+
+     "DEAR COL. JOCYLN:--We are in the greatest trouble. Poor Lady
+     Thetford died with awful suddenness this morning in one of
+     those dreadful spasms. We are all nearly distracted. Rupert
+     bears it better than any of us. Pray come over as soon as you
+     can.
+
+     "MAY. EVERARD."
+
+Aileen Jocyln sunk back in her seat, pale and trembling.
+
+"Dead! Oh, papa! papa!"
+
+"It is very sad, my dear, and very shocking and terribly unfortunate
+that it should have occurred just at this time. A postponed wedding is
+ever ominous of evil."
+
+"Oh! pray, papa, don't think of that! Don't think of me! Poor Lady
+Thetford! Poor Rupert! You will go over at once, papa, will you not?"
+
+"Certainly, my dear. And I will tell the servants, so that when our
+guests arrive you may not be disturbed. Since it was to be," muttered
+the Indian officer under his moustache. "I would give half my fortune
+that it had been one day later. A postponed marriage is the most ominous
+thing under the sun."
+
+He left the room, and Aileen sat with her hands clasped, and an
+unutterable awe overpowering every other feeling. She forgot her own
+disappointment in the awful mystery of sudden death. Her share of the
+trial was light--a year of waiting, more or less; what did it matter,
+since Rupert loved her unchangeably? but, poor Lady Aileen, remembering
+how much the dead woman had loved her, and how fondly she had welcomed
+her as a daughter, covered her face with her hands, and wept as she
+might have wept for her own mother.
+
+"I never knew a mother's love or care," Aileen thought; "and I was
+doubly happy in knowing I was to have one at last. And now--and now----"
+
+It was a drearily long morning to the poor bride elect, sitting alone in
+her chamber. She heard the roll of carriages up the drive, the pause
+that ensued, and then their departure. She wondered how _he_ bore it
+best of all, May had said; but, then, he was ever still and strong and
+self-restrained. She knew how dear that poor, ailing mother had ever
+been to him, and she knew how bitterly he would feel her loss.
+
+"They talk of presentiments," mused Miss Jocyln, walking wearily to and
+fro; "and see how happy and hopeful I was this morning, whilst she lay
+dead and he mourned. If I only dared go to him--my own Rupert!"
+
+It was late in the afternoon before Col. Jocyln returned. He strode
+straight to his daughter's presence, wearing a pale, fagged face.
+
+"Well, papa?" she asked, faintly.
+
+"My pale Aileen!" he said, kissing her fondly; "my poor, patient girl! I
+am sorry you must undergo this trial, and," knitting his brows, "such
+talk as it will make."
+
+"Don't think of me, papa--my share is surely the lightest. But Rupert--"
+wistfully faltering.
+
+"There's something odd about Rupert; he was very fond of his mother, and
+he takes this a great deal too quietly. He looks like a man slowly
+turning to stone, with a face white and stern; and he never asked for
+you. He sat there with folded arms and that petrified face, gazing on
+his dead, until it chilled my blood to look at him. There's something
+odd and unnatural in this frozen calm. And, oh! by-the-bye! I forgot to
+tell you the strangest thing--May Everard it was told me; that painter
+fellow--what's his name--"
+
+"Legard, papa?"
+
+"Yes, Legard. He turns out to be the son of Mrs. Weymore; they
+discovered it last night. He was there in the room, with the most dazed
+and mystified and altogether bewildered expression of countenance I ever
+saw a man wear, and May and Mrs. Weymore sat crying incessantly. I
+couldn't see what occasion there was for the governess and the painter
+there in that room of death, and I said so to Miss Everard. There's
+something mysterious in the matter, for her face flushed and she
+stammered something about startling family secrets that had come to
+light, and the over-excitement of which had hastened Lady Thetford's
+end. I don't like the look of things, and I'm altogether in the dark.
+That painter resembles the Thetford's a great deal too closely for the
+mere work of chance; and yet, if Mrs. Weymore is his mother, I don't see
+how there can be anything in _that_. It's odd--confoundedly odd!"
+
+Col. Jocyln rumbled on as he walked the floor, his brows knitted into a
+swarthy frown. His daughter sat and eyed him wistfully.
+
+"Did no one ask for me, papa? Am I not to go over?"
+
+"Sir Rupert didn't ask for you! May Everard did, and I promised to fetch
+you to-morrow. Aileen, things at Thetford Towers have a suspicious look
+to-day; I can't see the light yet, but I suspect something wrong. It may
+be the very best thing that could possibly happen, this postponed
+marriage; I shall make Sir Rupert clear matters up completely before my
+daughter becomes his wife."
+
+Col. Jocyln, according to promise, took his daughter to Thetford Towers
+next morning. With bated breath and beating heart and noiseless tread,
+Aileen Jocyln entered the house of mourning, which yesterday she had
+thought to enter a bride. Dark and still, and desolate it lay, the
+morning light shut out, unbroken silence everywhere.
+
+"And this is the end of earth, its glory and its bliss," Aileen thought
+as she followed her father slowly up-stairs, "the solemn wonder of the
+winding-sheet and the grave."
+
+There were two watchers in the dark room when they entered--May Everard,
+pale and quiet, and the young artist, Guy Legard. Even in that moment,
+Col. Jocyln could not repress a supercilious stare of wonder to behold
+the housekeeper's son in the death-chamber of Lady Thetford. And yet it
+seemed strangely his place, for it might have been one of those lusty
+old Thetfords, framed and glazed up-stairs, stepped out of the canvas
+and dressed in the fashion of the day.
+
+"Very bad tastes all the same," the proud old colonel thought, with a
+frown: "very bad taste on the part of Sir Rupert. I shall speak to him
+on the subject presently."
+
+He stood in silence beside his daughter, looking down at the marble
+face. May, shivering drearily in a large shawl, and looking like a wan
+little spirit, was speaking in whispers to Aileen.
+
+"We persuaded Rupert--Mr. Legard and I--to go and lie down; he has
+neither eaten nor slept since his mother died. Oh, Aileen! I am so sorry
+for you!"
+
+"Hush!" raising one tremulous hand and turning away; "she was as dear to
+me as my own mother could have been! Don't think of me."
+
+"Shall we not see Sir Rupert?" the colonel asked. "I should like to,
+particularly."
+
+"I think not--unless you remain for some hours. He is completely worn
+out, poor fellow!"
+
+"How comes that young man here, Miss Everard?" nodding in the direction
+of Mr. Legard, who had withdrawn to a remote corner. "He may be a very
+especial friend of Sir Rupert's--but don't you think he presumes on that
+friendship?"
+
+Miss Everard's eyes flashed angrily.
+
+"No, sir! I think nothing of the sort! Mr. Legard has a perfect right to
+be in this room, or any other room at Thetford Towers. It is by Rupert's
+particular request he remains!"
+
+The colonel frowned again, and turned his back upon the speaker.
+
+"Aileen," he said, haughtily, "as Sir Rupert is not visible, nor likely
+to be for some time, perhaps you had better not linger. To-morrow, after
+the funeral, I shall speak to him very seriously."
+
+Miss Jocyln arose. She would rather have lingered, but she saw her
+father's annoyed face and obeyed him immediately. She bent and kissed
+the cold, white face, awful with the dread majesty of death.
+
+"For the last time, my friend, my mother," she murmured, "until we meet
+in heaven."
+
+She drew her veil over her face to hide her falling tears, and silently
+followed the stern and displeased Indian officer down-stairs and out of
+the house. She looked back wistfully once at the gray, old ivy-grown
+facade; but who was to tell her of the weary, weary months and years
+that would pass before she crossed that stately threshold again?
+
+It was a very grand and imposing ceremonial, that burial of Lady
+Thetford; and side by side with the heir walked the unknown painter, Guy
+Legard. Col. Jocyln was not the only friend of the family shocked on
+this occasion. What could Sir Rupert mean? And what did Mr. Legard mean
+by looking ten times more like the old Thetford race than Sir Noel's own
+son and heir?
+
+It was a miserable day, this day of the funeral. There was a sky of lead
+hanging low like a pall, and it was almost dark in the rainy afternoon
+gloaming when Col. Jocyln and Sir Rupert Thetford stood alone before the
+village church. Lady Thetford slept with the rest of the name in the
+stony vaults; the fair-haired artist stood in the porch, and Sir Rupert,
+with a face wan and stern, and spectral, in the dying daylight, stood
+face to face with the colonel.
+
+"A private interview," the colonel was repeating; "most certainly, Sir
+Rupert. Will you come with me to Jocyln Hall? My daughter will wish to
+see you."
+
+The young man nodded, went back a moment to speak to Legard, and then
+followed the colonel into the carriage. The drive was a very silent
+one--a vague, chilling presentiment of impending evil on the Indian
+officer as he uneasily watched the young man who had so nearly been his
+son.
+
+Aileen Jocyln, roaming like a restless ghost through the lonely, lofty
+rooms, saw them alight, and came out to the hall to meet her betrothed.
+She held out both hands shyly, looking up, half in fear, in the rigid,
+death-white face of her lover.
+
+"Aileen!"
+
+He took the hands and held them fast a moment; then dropped them and
+turned to the colonel.
+
+"Now, Col. Jocyln."
+
+The colonel led the way into the library. Sir Rupert paused a moment on
+the threshold to answer Aileen's pleading glance.
+
+"Only for a few moments, Aileen," he said, his eyes softening with
+infinite love; "in half an hour my fate shall be decided. Let that fate
+be what it may, I shall be true to you while life lasts."
+
+With these enigmatical words, he followed the colonel into the library,
+and the polished oaken door closed between him and Aileen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+PARTED.
+
+
+Half an hour had passed.
+
+Up and down the long drawing-room Aileen wandered aimlessly, oppressed
+with a dread of she knew not what, a prescience of evil, vague as it was
+terrible. The dark gloom of the rainy evening was not darker than that
+brooding shadow in her deep, dusky eyes.
+
+In the library Col. Jocyln stood facing his son-in-law elect, staring
+like a man bereft of his senses. The melancholy, half light coming
+through the oriel window by which he stood, fell full upon the face of
+Rupert Thetford, white and cold, and set as marble.
+
+"My God!" the Indian officer said, with wild eyes of terror and
+affright, "what is this you are telling me?"
+
+"The truth, Col. Jocyln--the simple truth. Would to Heaven I had known
+it years ago--this shameful story of wrong-doing and misery!"
+
+"I don't comprehend--I can't comprehend this impossible tale, Sir
+Rupert."
+
+"That is a misnomer now, Col. Jocyln. I am no longer _Sir_ Rupert."
+
+"Do you mean to say you credit this wild story of a former marriage of
+Sir Noel's? Do you really believe your late governess to have been your
+father's wife?"
+
+"I believe it, colonel. I have facts and statements and dying words to
+prove it. On my father's death-bed he made my mother swear to tell the
+truth; to repair the wrong he had done; to seek out his son, concealed
+by his valet, Vyking, and restore him to his rights! My mother never,
+kept that promise--the cruel wrong done to herself was too bitter; and
+at my birth she resolved never to keep it. I should not atone for the
+sin of my father; his elder son should never deprive _her_ child of his
+birthright. My poor mother! You know the cause of that mysterious
+trouble which fell upon her at my father's death, and which darkened her
+life to the last. Shame, remorse, anger--shame for herself--a wife only
+in name; remorse for her broken vow to the dead, and anger against that
+erring dead man."
+
+"But you told me she had hunted him up and provided for him," said the
+mystified colonel.
+
+"Yes; she saw an advertisement in a London paper calling upon Vyking to
+take charge of the boy he had left twelve years before. Now, Vyking, the
+valet, had been transported for house-breaking long before that, and my
+mother answered the advertisement. There could be no doubt the child was
+the child Vyking had taken charge of--Sir Noel Thetford's rightful heir.
+My mother left him with the painter, Legard, with whom he had grew up,
+whose name he took, and he is now at Thetford Towers."
+
+"I thought the likeness meant something," muttered the colonel; "his
+paternity is plainly enough written in his face. And so," raising his
+voice, "Mrs. Weymore recognized her son. Really, your story runs like a
+melodrama, where the hero turns out to be a duke and his mother knows
+the strawberry mark on his arm. Well, sir, if Mrs. Weymore is Sir Noel's
+rightful widow, and Guy Legard his rightful son and heir--pray what are
+you?"
+
+The colorless face of the young man turned dark-red for an instant, then
+whiter than before.
+
+"My, mother was as truly and really Sir Noel's wife as women can be the
+wife of man in the sight of Heaven. The crime was his; the shame and
+suffering hers; the atonement mine. Sir Noel's elder son shall be Sir
+Noel's heir--I will play usurper no longer. To-morrow I leave St.
+Gosport; the day after, England--never, perhaps, to return."
+
+"You are mad," Col. Jocyln said, turning very pale; "you do not mean
+it."
+
+"I am not mad, and I do mean it. I may be unfortunate; but, I pray God,
+never a villain! Right is right; my brother Guy is the rightful
+heir--not I!"
+
+"And Aileen?" Col. Jocyln's face turned dark and rigid as iron as he
+spoke his daughter's name.
+
+Rupert Thetford turned away his changing face, quite ghastly now.
+
+"It shall be as she says. Aileen is too noble and just herself not to
+honor me for doing right."
+
+"It shall be as I say," returned Col. Jocyln, with a voice that rang and
+an eye that flashed. "My daughter comes of a proud and stainless race,
+and never shall she mate with one less stainless. Hear me out, young
+man. It won't do to fire up--plain words are best suited to a plain
+case. All that has passed betwixt you and Miss Jocyln must be as if it
+had never been. The heir of Thetford Towers, honorably born, I consented
+she should marry; but, dearly as I love her, I would see her dead at my
+feet before she should mate with one who was nameless and impoverished.
+You said just now the atonement was yours--you said right; go, and never
+return."
+
+He pointed to the door; the young man, stonily still, took his hat.
+
+"Will you not permit your daughter, Col. Jocyln, to speak for herself?"
+he said, at the door.
+
+"No, sir. I know my daughter--my proud, high-spirited Aileen--and my
+answer is hers. I wish you good-night."
+
+He swung round abruptly, turning his back upon his visitor. Rupert
+Thetford, without one word, turned and walked out of the house.
+
+The bewildering rapidity of the shocks he had received had stunned
+him--he could not feel the pain now. There was a dull sense of aching
+torture over him from head to foot--but the acute edge was dulled; he
+walked along through the black night like a man drugged and stupefied.
+He was only conscious intensely of one thing--a wish to get away, never
+to set foot in St. Gosport again.
+
+Like one walking in his sleep, he reached Thetford Towers, his old home,
+every tree and stone of which was dear to him. He entered at once,
+passed into the drawing-room, and found Guy, the artist, sitting before
+the fire staring blankly into the coals, and May Everard roaming
+restlessly up and down, the firelight falling dully on her black robes
+and pale, tear-stained face. Both started at his entrance--all wet, and
+wild, and haggard; but neither spoke. There was that in his face which
+froze the words on their lips.
+
+"I am going away to-morrow," he said, abruptly, leaning against the
+mantle, and looking at them with weird, spectral eyes.
+
+May uttered a faint cry; Guy faced him almost fiercely.
+
+"Going away! What do you mean, Sir Rupert? We are going away together,
+if you like."
+
+"No; I go alone. You remain here; it is your place now."
+
+"Never!" cried the young artist--"never! I will go out and die like a
+dog, in a ditch, before I rob you of your birthright!"
+
+"You reverse matters," said Rupert Thetford; "it is I who have robbed
+you, unwittingly, for too many years. I promised my mother on her
+death-bed, as she promised my father on his, that you should have your
+right, and I will keep that promise. Guy, dear old fellow! don't let us
+quarrel, now that we are brothers, after being friends so long. Take
+what is your own; the world is all before me, and surely I am man enough
+to win my own way. Not one other word; you shall not come with me; you
+might as well talk to these stone walls and try to move them as to me.
+To-morrow I go, and go alone."
+
+"Alone!" It was May who breathlessly repeated the word.
+
+"Alone! All the ties that bound me here are broken; I go alone and
+single-handed to fight the battle of life. Guy, I have spoken to the
+rector about you--you will find him your friend and aider; and May is to
+make her home at the rectory. And now," turning suddenly and moving to
+the door, "as I start early to-morrow, I believe I'll retire early.
+Good-night."
+
+And then he was gone, and Guy and May were left staring at each other
+with blank faces.
+
+The storm of wind and rain sobbed itself out before midnight, and in the
+bluest of skies, heralded by banners of rosy clouds, rose up the sun
+next morning. Before that rising sun had gilded the tops of the tallest
+oaks in the park he, who had so lately called it all his own, had opened
+the heavy oaken door and passed from Thetford Towers, as home, forever.
+The house was very still--no one had risen; he had left a note to Guy,
+with a few brief, warm words of farewell.
+
+"Better so," he thought--"better so! He and May will be happy together,
+for I know he loves her and she him. The memory of my leave-taking shall
+never come to cloud their united lives."
+
+One last backward glance at the eastern windows turning to gold; at the
+sea blushing back the first glance of the day-king; at the waving trees
+and swelling meadows, and then he had passed down the avenue, out
+through the massive entrance-gates, and was gone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+AFTER FIVE YEARS.
+
+
+Moonlight falling like a silvery veil over Venice--a crystal clear
+crescent in a purple sky shimmering on palace and prison, churches,
+squares and canals, on the gliding gondolas and the flitting forms
+passing like noiseless shadows to and fro.
+
+A young lady leaned from a window of a vast Venetian hotel, gazing
+thoughtfully at the silver-lighted landscape, so strange, so unreal, so
+dream-like to her unaccustomed eyes. A young lady, stately and tall,
+with a pale, proud face, and a statuesque sort of beauty that was
+perfect in its way. She was dressed in trailing robes of crape and
+bombazine, and the face, turned to the moonlight, was cold and still as
+marble.
+
+She turned her eyes from the moonlit canal, down which dark gondolas
+floated to the music of the gay gondolier's song; once, as an English
+voice in the piazza below sung a stave of a jingling barcarole--
+
+    "Oh! gay we row where full tides flow!
+      And bear our bounding pinnace;
+    And leap along where song meets song,
+      Across the waves of Venice."
+
+The singer, a tall young man, with a florid face and yellow
+side-whiskers, an unmistakable son of the "right little, tight little"
+island, paused in his song, as another man, stepping through an open
+window, struck him an airy, sledge-hammer slap on the back.
+
+"I ought to know that voice," said the last comer.
+
+"Mortimer, my lad, how goes it?"
+
+"Stafford!" cried the singer, seizing the outstretched hand in a genuine
+English grip, "happy to meet you, old boy, in the land of romance! La
+Fabre told me you were coming, but who would look for you so soon! I
+thought you were doing Sorrento?"
+
+"Got tired of Sorrento," said Stafford, taking his arm for a walk
+up and down the piazza; "there's a fever there, too--quite an
+epidemic--malignant typhus. Discretion is the better part of valor where
+Sorrento fevers are concerned. I left."
+
+"When did you reach Venice?" asked Mortimer, lighting a cigar.
+
+"An hour ago; and now who's here? Any one I know!"
+
+"Lots. The Cholmonadeys, the Lythons, the Howards, of Leighwood; and,
+by-the-bye, they have with them the Marble Bride."
+
+"The which?" asked Mr. Stafford.
+
+"The Marble Bride, the Princess Frostina; otherwise Miss Aileen Jocyln,
+of Jocyln Hall Devonshire. You knew the old colonel, I think; he died
+over a year ago, you remember."
+
+"Ah, yes! I remember. Is she here with the Howards, and as handsome as
+ever, no doubt?"
+
+"Handsome, to my mind, with an uplifted and unapproachable sort of
+beauty. A fellow might as soon love some bright particular star, etc.,
+as the fabulously wealthy heiress of all the Jocylns. She has no end of
+suitors--all the best men here bow at the shrine of the ice-cold Aileen,
+and all in vain."
+
+"You among the rest, my friend?" with a light laugh.
+
+"No, by Jove!" cried Mr. Mortimer; "that sort of thing--the marble
+style, you know--never was to my taste. I admire Miss Jocyln
+immensely--just as I do the moon up there, with no particular desire
+ever to be nearer."
+
+"What was that story I heard once, five years ago, about a
+broken engagement? Wasn't Thetford of that ilk the hero of the
+tale?--the romantic Thetford, who resigned his title and estate to a
+mysteriously-found elder brother, you know. The story ran through the
+papers and the clubs at the time like wildfire, and set the whole
+country talking, I remember. She was engaged to him, wasn't she, and
+broke off?"
+
+"So goes the story--but who knows? I recollect that odd affair perfectly
+well; it was like the melodramas on the sunny side of the Thames. I know
+the 'mysteriously-found elder brother,' too--very fine fellow, Sir Guy
+Thetford, and married to the prettiest little wife the sun shines on. I
+must say Rupert Thetford behaved wonderfully well in that unpleasant
+business; very few men would do as he did--they would, at least, have
+made a fight for the title and estates. By-the-way, I wonder whatever
+became of him?"
+
+"I left him at Sorrento," said Stafford, coolly.
+
+"The deuce you did! What was he doing there?"
+
+"Raving in the fever; so the people told me with whom he stopped. I just
+discovered he was in the place as I was about to leave it. He had fallen
+very low, I fancy; his pictures didn't sell, I suppose; he has been in
+the painting line since he ceased to be Sir Rupert, and the world has
+gone against him. Rather hard on him to lose fortune, title, home,
+bride, and all at one fell swoop. Some women there are who would go with
+their plighted husbands to beggary; but I suppose the lovely Aileen is
+not one of them."
+
+"And so you left him ill of the fever? Poor fellow!"
+
+"Dangerously ill."
+
+"And the people with whom he is will take very little care of him; he's
+as good as dead. Let us go in--I want to have a look at the latest
+English papers."
+
+The two men passed in, out of the moonlight, off the piazza, all
+unconscious that they had had a listener. The pale watcher in the
+trailing black robes, scarcely heeding them at first, had grown more and
+more absorbed in the careless conversation. She caught her breath in
+quick, short gasps, the dark eyes dilated, the slender hands pressed
+themselves tight over the throbbing heart. As they went in off the
+balcony she slid from her seat and held up her clasped hands to the
+luminous night sky.
+
+"Hear me, oh, God!" the white lips cried--"I, who have aided in wrecking
+a noble heart--hear me, and help me to keep my vow! I offer my whole
+life in atonement for the cruel and wicked past. If he dies, I shall go
+to my grave his unwedded widow. If he lives----"
+
+Her voice faltered and died out, her face drooped forward on the
+window-sill, and the flashing moonlight fell like a benediction on the
+bowed young head.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+AT SORRENTO.
+
+
+The low light in the western sky was dying out; the bay of Naples lay
+rosy in the haze of the dying day; and on this scene an invalid, looking
+from a window high up on the sea-washed cliff at Sorrento, gazed
+languidly.
+
+For he was surely an invalid who sat in that window chair and gazed at
+the wondrous Italian sea and that lovely Italian sky; surely an invalid,
+with that pallid face, those spectral, hollow eyes, those sunken cheeks,
+those bloodless lips; surely an invalid, and one but lately risen from
+the very gates of death--a pale shadow, worn and weak as a child.
+
+As he sits there, where he has sat for hours, lonely and alone, the door
+opens, and an English face looks in--the face of an Englishman of the
+lower classes.
+
+"A visitor for you, sir--just come, and a-foot; a lady, sir. She will
+not give her name, but wishes to see you most particular, if you
+please."
+
+"A lady! To see me?"
+
+The invalid opens his great, dark eyes in wonder as he speaks.
+
+"Yes, sir; an English lady, sir, dressed in black, and a wearing of a
+thick veil. She asked for Mr. Rupert Thetford as soon as she see me, as
+plain, as plain, sir----"
+
+The young man in the chair started, half rose, and then sank back--a
+wild, eager light lit in the hollow eyes.
+
+"Let her come in; I will see her!"
+
+The man disappeared; there was an instant's pause, then a tall, slender
+figure, draped and veiled in black, entered alone.
+
+The visitor stood still. Once more the invalid attempted to rise, once
+more his strength failed him. The lady threw back her veil with a sudden
+motion.
+
+"My God, Aileen!"
+
+"Rupert!"
+
+She was on her knees before him, lifting her suppliant hands.
+
+"Forgive me! Forgive me! I have seemed the most heartless and cruel of
+women! But I, too, have suffered. I am base and unworthy; but, oh!
+forgive me, if you can!"
+
+The old love, stronger than death, shone in her eyes, plead in her
+passionate, sobbing voice, and went to his very heart.
+
+"I have been so wretched, so wretched all these miserable years! Whilst
+my father lived I would not disobey his stern command that I was never
+to attempt to see or hear from you, and at his death I could not. You
+seemed lost to me and the world. Only by the merest accident I heard in
+Venice you were here, and ill--dying. I lost no time, I came hither at
+once, hoping against hope to find you alive. Thank God I did come! Oh,
+Rupert! Rupert! for the sake of the past forgive me!"
+
+"Forgive you!" and he tried to raise her. "Aileen--darling!"
+
+His weak arms encircled her, and the pale lips pressed passionate kisses
+on the tear-wet face.
+
+So, whilst the red glory of the sunset lay on the sea, and till the
+silver stars spangled the sky, the reunited lovers sat in the soft haze
+as Adam and Eve may have in the loveliness of Eden.
+
+"How long since you left England?" Rupert asked at length.
+
+"Two years ago; poor papa died in the south of France. You mustn't blame
+him too much, Rupert."
+
+"My dearest, we will talk of blaming no one. And Guy and May are
+married? I knew they would be."
+
+"Did you? I was so surprised when I read it in the _Times_; for you know
+May and I never corresponded--she was frantically angry with me. Do they
+know you are here?"
+
+"No; I rarely write, and I am constantly moving about; but I know Guy is
+very much beloved in St. Gosport. We will go back to England one of
+these days, my darling, and give them the greatest surprise they have
+received since Sir Guy Thetford learned who he really was."
+
+He smiled as he said it--the old bright smile she remembered so well.
+Tears of joy filled the beautiful, upturned eyes.
+
+"And you will go back? Oh, Rupert! it needed but this to complete my
+happiness!"
+
+He drew her closer, and then there was a long, delicious silence, whilst
+they watched together the late-rising moon climbing the misty hills
+above Castlemare.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+AT HOME.
+
+
+Another sunset, red and gorgeous, over swelling English meadows, waving
+trees, and grassy terrace, lighting up with its crimson radiance the
+gray forest of Thetford Towers.
+
+In the pretty, airy summer drawing-room, this red sunset streams through
+open western windows, kindling everything into living light. It falls on
+the bright-haired, girlish figure, dressed in floating white, seated in
+an arm-chair in the center of the room: too childish looking, you might
+fancy, at first sight, to be mamma to that fat baby she holds in her
+lap; but she is not a bit too childish. And that is papa, tall and
+handsome and happy, who leans over the chair and looks as men do look on
+what is the apple of their eye and the pride of their heart.
+
+"It is high time baby was christened, Guy," Lady Thetford--for, of
+course, Lady Thetford it is--was saying; "and, do you know, I'm really
+at a loss for a name. You won't let me call him Guy, and I shan't call
+him Noel--and so what is it to be?"
+
+"Rupert, of course," Sir Guy suggests; and little Lady Thetford pouts.
+
+"He doesn't deserve the compliment. Shabby fellow! To keep wandering
+about the world as he does, and never to answer one's letter; and I sent
+him half a ream last time, if I sent him a sheet, telling all about
+baby, and asking him to come and be godfather, and coaxing him with the
+eloquence of a female Demos--what-you-may-call-him. And to think it
+should be all of no use! To think of not receiving a line in return! It
+is using me shamefully, and I don't believe I will call baby Rupert."
+
+"Oh, yes you will, my dear! Well, Smithers, what is it?"
+
+For Mr. Smithers, the butler, stood in the doorway, with a very pale and
+startled face.
+
+"It's a gentleman--leastways a lady--leastways a lady and gentleman. Oh!
+here they come theirselves!"
+
+Mr. Smithers retired precipitately, still pale and startled of visage,
+as a gentleman, with a lady on his arm, stood before Sir Guy and Lady
+Thetford.
+
+There was a cry, a half shout, from the young baronet, a wild shriek
+from the lady. She sprung to her feet, and, nearly dropped the precious
+baby.
+
+"Rupert! Aileen!"
+
+She never got any further--this impetuous little Lady Thetford; for she
+was kissing first one, then the other, crying and laughing and talking,
+all in one breath.
+
+"Oh, what a surprise this is! Oh, Rupert! I'm so glad, so glad to see
+you again! Oh, Aileen! I never, never hoped for this! Oh! good gracious,
+Guy, did you ever!"
+
+But Guy was wringing his brother's hand, with bright tears standing in
+his eyes, and quite unable to reply.
+
+"And this is the baby, May? The wonderful baby you wrote me so much
+about," Mr. Rupert Thetford said. "A noble little fellow, upon my
+word--and a Thetford from top to toe. Am I in season to be godfather!"
+
+"Just in time; and we are going to call it Rupert; and I was just
+scolding dreadfully because you hadn't answered my letter, never
+dreaming that you were coming to answer in person! I would as soon have
+expected the man in the moon. And Aileen, too! And to think you should
+be married, after all! Oh, gracious me! Do sit down and tell me all
+about it!"
+
+It was such a delightful evening, so like old times, and May in the
+possession of a baby, that Rupert and Aileen nearly went delirious with
+delight.
+
+"And you are going to remain in England?" Sir Guy eagerly asked, when he
+had heard a resume of those past five years. "Going to reside at Jocyln
+Hall?"
+
+"Yes; and be neighbors, if you will let us."
+
+"Oh, I am so glad!"
+
+"I promised Aileen; and now--now I am willing to be at home in England,"
+and he looked fondly at his wife.
+
+"It is just like a fairy-tale," said May.
+
+"We haven't yet been to Jocyln Hall. We came at once here, to see this
+prodigy of babies--my wonderful little namesake."
+
+Very late that night, when the reunited friends sought their chambers,
+May lifted her golden head off the pillow, and looked at her husband
+entering the room.
+
+"It's so very odd, Guy," slowly and drowsily, "to think that, after all,
+a _Rupert Thetford_ should be SIR NOEL'S HEIR."
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIR NOEL'S HEIR***
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