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diff --git a/37973-h/37973-h.htm b/37973-h/37973-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6b57b80 --- /dev/null +++ b/37973-h/37973-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7837 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Diana Tempest, Volume I (of 3), by Mary Cholmondeley</title> +<style type="text/css"> + + body { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + } + + .booktitle { + letter-spacing:3px; + } + + .center { + text-align:center; + font-weight:bold; + } + + div.center { + text-align:center; + } + + .centern { + text-align:center; + } + + div.inset16 { + margin-top:1em; + margin-bottom:1em; + margin-left:auto; + margin-right:auto; + width:16em; + text-indent:0; + } + + div.main { + font-size:100%; + } + + .dropimg { + float:left; + margin-right:.5em; + margin-bottom:0; + } + + .figcenter { + padding:1em; + text-align:center; + font-size:0.8em; + border:none; + margin:auto; + text-indent:1em; + } + + .h1 { + font-size:2em; + margin:.67em 0; + } + + .h1, .h2, .h3, .h4, .h5 { + font-weight:bolder; + text-align:center; + text-indent:0; + } + + h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 { + text-align:center; + } + + .h2 { + font-size:1.5em; + margin:.75em 0; + } + + .h3 { + font-size:1.17em; + margin:.83em 0; + } + + .h4 { + margin:1.12em 0 ; + } + + .h5 { + font-size:.83em; + margin:1.5em 0 ; + } + + h5 { + margin-bottom:1%; + margin-top:1%; + } + + hr.chapter { + margin-top:6em; + margin-bottom:4em; + } + + hr.tb { + margin:2em 25%; + width:50%; + } + + hr.thin { + margin-right:47%; + margin-left:47%; + margin-top:0%; + margin-bottom:0%; + width:6%; + } + + p { + text-align:justify; + margin-top:.75em; + margin-bottom:.75em; + text-indent:0; + } + + p.quote { + float:left; + margin-right:.2em; + margin-top:-.1em; + } + + p.spacer { + margin-top:2em; + margin-bottom:3em; + } + + .pagenum { +/* visibility:hidden; remove comment out to hide page numbers */ + position:absolute; + right:2%; + font-size:75%; + color:gray; + background-color:inherit; + text-align:right; + text-indent:0; + font-style:normal; + font-weight:normal; + font-variant:normal; + } + + .poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + margin-bottom:1em; + text-align:left; + } + + .poem .stanza { + margin:1em 0em 1em 0em; + } + + .poem p { + margin:0; + padding-left:3em; + text-indent:-3em; + } + + .poem span.i0 { + display:block; + margin-left:0em; + padding-left:3em; + text-indent:-3em; + } + + .poem span.i2 { + display:block; + margin-left:2em; + padding-left:3em; + text-indent:-3em; + } + + .poem span.i4 { + display:block; + margin-left:4em; + padding-left:3em; + text-indent:-3em; + } + + .poem span.i6 { + display:block; + margin-left:6em; + padding-left:3em; + text-indent:-3em; + } + + .poem span.i10 { + display:block; + margin-left:10em; + padding-left:3em; + text-indent:-3em; + } + + .poem span.i14 { + display:block; + margin-left:14em; + padding-left:3em; + text-indent:-3em; + } + + .smcap { + font-variant:small-caps; + } + + span.hide { + display:none + } + + span.in3 { + margin-left:3em; + } + + .topbox { + width:400px; + margin-top:5%; + margin-bottom:5%; + padding:1em; + color:black; + border:2px solid black; + } + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Diana Tempest, Volume I (of 3), by Mary +Cholmondeley</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: Diana Tempest, Volume I (of 3)</p> +<p>Author: Mary Cholmondeley</p> +<p>Release Date: November 10, 2011 [eBook #37973]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIANA TEMPEST, VOLUME I (OF 3)***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Matthew Wheaton,<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 /> + Internet Archive/American Libraries<br /> + (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/americana">http://www.archive.org/details/americana</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Project Gutenberg also has Volumes II and III of this + work. See<br /> + Volume II: <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37974">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37974</a><br /> + Volume III: <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37975">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37975</a><br /> + <br /> + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/dianatempest01chol"> + http://www.archive.org/details/dianatempest01chol</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1 class="booktitle">DIANA TEMPEST.</h1> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<div class="topbox figcenter"> +<img src="images/tp.jpg" width="400" height="645" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p class="h3"><i>Diana Tempest.</i></p> + +<p class="h4"><i>By<br /> +Mary Cholmondeley,<br /> +Author of<br /> +"The Danvers Jewels,"<br /> +"Sir Charles Danvers," etc.</i></p> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<p class="h3">In Three Volumes.<br /> +Vol. I.</p> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<p class="h3">London:<br /> +Richard Bentley & Son,<br /> +Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen.<br /> +1893.<br /> +(All rights reserved.)</p> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<div class="topbox figcenter"> +<p class="h5">TO</p> + +<p class="h4">MY SISTER</p> + +<p class="h3">HESTER.</p> + +<hr class="thin" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He put our lives so far apart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We cannot hear each other speak."<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<div class="inset16"> +<p> +"The lawyer's deed<br /> +Ran sure,<br /> +In tail,<br /> +To them, and to their heirs<br /> +Who shall succeed,<br /> +Without fail,<br /> +For evermore.<br /> +<br /> +"Here is the land,<br /> +Shaggy with wood,<br /> +With its old valley,<br /> +Mound and flood.<br /> +But the heritors?" ...<br /> +<br /> +<span class="in3"><span class="smcap">Emerson</span>, <i>Earth-song</i>.<br /></span></p> +</div> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<div class="inset16"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a><br /> +</div> + +<div class="main"> <!-- main text --> + +<hr class="chapter" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[1]</span></p> + +<div class="center"> +<img src="images/i-ch01.jpg" width="600" height="187" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2>DIANA TEMPEST.</h2> + +<hr class="thin" /> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<p class="centern">"La pire des mésalliances est celle du cœur."</p> + +<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/drop_c.jpg" width="80" height="79" alt="C" /> + <span class="hide">C</span>OLONEL TEMPEST and his miniature +ten-year-old replica of himself +had made themselves as comfortable as +circumstances would permit in opposite +corners of the smoking carriage. It was a +chilly morning in April, and the boy had +wrapped himself in his travelling rug, and +turned up his little collar, and drawn his +soft little travelling cap over his eyes in exact, +though unconscious, imitation of his father.<span class="pagenum">[2]</span> +Colonel Tempest looked at him now and +then with paternal complacency. It is certainly +a satisfaction to see ourselves repeated +in our children. We feel that the type will +not be lost. Each new edition of ourselves +lessens a natural fear lest a work of value +and importance should lapse out of print.</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest at forty was still very +handsome; and must, as a young man, have +possessed great beauty before the character +had had time to assert itself in the face; +before selfishness had learned to look out +of the clear grey eyes, and a weak self-indulgence +and irresolution had loosened the +well-cut lips.</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest, as a rule, took life very +easily. If he had fits of uncontrolled passion +now and then, they were quickly over. If +his feelings were touched, that was quickly +over too. But to-day his face was clouded. +He had tried the usual antidotes for an<span class="pagenum">[3]</span> +impending attack of what he would have +called "the blues," by which he meant any +species of reflection calculated to give him that +passing annoyance which was the deepest +form of emotion of which he was capable. +But <i>Punch</i> and the <i>Sporting Times</i>, and even +the comic French paper which Archie might +not look at, were powerless to distract him +to-day. At last he tossed the latter out +of the window to corrupt the morals of +trespassers on the line, and, as it was, after +all, less trouble to yield than to resist, +settled himself in his corner, and gave +way to a series of gloomy and anxious +reflections.</p> + +<p>He was bent on a mission of importance +to his old home, to see his brother who +was dying. His mind always recoiled +instinctively from the thought of death, and +turned quickly to something else. It was +fourteen years since he had been at Overleigh,<span class="pagenum">[4]</span> +fourteen years since that event had +taken place which had left a deadly enmity +of silence and estrangement between his +brother and himself ever since. And it +had all been about a woman. It seemed +extraordinary to Colonel Tempest, as he +looked back, that a quarrel which had led +to such serious consequences—which had, +as he remembered, spoilt his own life—should +have come from so slight a cause. +It was like losing the sight of an eye +because a fly had committed trespass in it. +A man's mental rank may generally be determined +by his estimate of woman. If he +stands low he considers her—heaven help +her—such an one as himself. If he climbs +high he takes his ideal of her along with +him, and, to keep it safe, places it above +himself.</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest pursued the reflections +suggested by an untaxed intellect of ave<span class="pagenum">[5]</span>rage +calibre which he believed to be profound. +A mere girl! How men threw up +everything for women! What fools men +were when they were young! After all, +when he came to think of it, there had +been some excuse for him. (There generally +was.) How beautiful she had been +with her pale exquisite face, and her +innocent eyes, and a certain shy dignity +and pride of bearing peculiar to herself. +Yes, any other man would have done the +same in his place. The latter argument +had had great weight with Colonel Tempest +through life. He could not help it if she +were engaged to his brother. It was as +much her fault as his own if they fell in +love with each other. She was seventeen +and he was seven and twenty, but it is +always the woman who "has the greater +sin."</p> + +<p>He remembered, with something like complacency,<span class="pagenum">[6]</span> +the violent love-making of the +fortnight that followed, her shy adoration +of her beautiful eager lover. Then came +the scruples, the flight, the white cottage +by the Thames, the marriage at the local +register office. What a fool he had been, +he reflected, and how he had worshipped +her at first, before he had been disappointed +in her; disappointed in her as the boy is +in the butterfly when he has it safe—and +crushed—in his hand. She might have +made anything of him, he reflected. But +somehow there had been a hitch in her +character. She had not taken him the right +way. She had been unable to effect a radical +change in him, to convert weakness and +irresolution into strength and decision; and +he had been quite ready to have anything +of that sort done for him. During all those +early weeks of married life, until she caught +a heavy cold on her chest, he had believed<span class="pagenum">[7]</span> +existence had been easily and delightfully +transformed for him. He was susceptible. +His feelings were always easily touched. +Everything influenced him, for a time; +beautiful music, or a pathetic story for half +an hour; his young wife for—nearly six +months.</p> + +<p>A play usually ends with the wedding, +but there is generally an after-piece, ignored +by lovers but expected by an experienced +audience. The after-piece in Colonel Tempest's +domestic drama began with tears, +caused, I believe, in the first instance by a +difference of opinion as to who was responsible +for the earwigs in his bath sponge. +In the white cottage there were many earwigs. +But even after the earwig difficulty +was settled by a move to London, other +occasions seemed to crop up for the shedding +of those tears which are known to be +the common resource of women for obtaining<span class="pagenum">[8]</span> +their own way when other means fail; +and others, many others, suggested by youth +and inexperience and a devoted love had +failed. If they are silent tears, or worse +still, if the eyelids betray that they have +been shed in secret, a man may with reason +become much annoyed at what looks like a +tacit reproach. Colonel Tempest became +annoyed. It is the good fortune of shallow +men so thoroughly to understand women, +that they can see through even the noblest +of them; though of course that deeper insight +into the hypocrisy practised by the +whole sex about their fancied ailments, and +inconveniently wounded feelings for their +own petty objects, is reserved for selfish +men alone.</p> + +<p>Matters have become very wrong indeed, +when a caress is not enough to set all right +at once; but things came to that shocking +pass between Colonel and Mrs. Tempest,<span class="pagenum">[9]</span> +and went in the course of the next few years +several steps further still, till they reached, +on her part, that dreary dead level of emaciated +semi-maternal tenderness, which is the +only feeling some husbands allow their wives +to entertain permanently for them; the only +kind of love which some men believe a +virtuous woman is capable of.</p> + +<p>How he had suffered, he reflected, he who +needed love so much. Even the advent of +the child had only drawn them together for +a time. He remembered how deeply touched +he had been when it was first laid in his +arms, how drawn towards its mother. But +his smoking-room fire had been neglected +during the following week, and he could not +find any large envelopes, and the nurse made +absurd restrictions about his seeing his wife at +his own hours, and Di herself was feeble and +languid, and made no attempt to enter into his +feelings, or show him any sympathy, and<span class="pagenum">[10]</span>—</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest sighed as he made this +mournful retrospect of his married life. He +had never cared to be much at home, he +reflected. His home had not been made +very pleasant to him; the poor meagre home +in a dingy street, the wrong side of Oxford +Street, which was all that a young man in +the Guards, with expensive tastes, who had +quarrelled with his elder brother, could afford. +The last evening he had spent in that house +came back to him with a feeling of bitter +resentment at the recollection of his wife's +unreasonable distress when a tradesman +called after dinner for payment of a longstanding +account which she had understood +was settled. It was not a large bill he +remembered wrathfully, and he had intended +to keep his promise of paying it directly his +money came in, but when it came he had +needed it, and more, for his share of the +spring fishing he had taken cheap with a<span class="pagenum">[11]</span> +friend. Naturally he would not see the +man whose loud voice, asking repeatedly +for him, could be heard in the hall, and who +refused to go away. Colonel Tempest had +a dislike to rows with tradespeople. At +last his wife, prostrate, and in feeble health, +rose languidly from her sofa, and went down +to meet the recriminations of the unfortunate +tradesman, who, after a long interval, retired, +slamming the door. Colonel Tempest heard +her slow step come up the stair again, and +then, instead of stopping at the drawing-room +door, it had gone toiling upwards to +the room above. He was incensed by so +distinct an evidence of temper. Surely, he +said to himself with exasperation, she knew +when she married him that she was marrying +a poor man.</p> + +<p>She did not return: and at last he blew +out the lamp, and lighting the candle put +ready for him, went upstairs, and opening<span class="pagenum">[12]</span> +the door of his wife's room, peered in. She +was sitting in the dark by the black fireplace +with her head in her hands. A great +deal of darkness and cold seemed to have +been compressed into that little room. She +raised her head as he came in. Her wide +eyes had a look in them of a dumb unreasoning +animal distress which took him +aback. There was no pride nor anger in +her face. In his ignorance he supposed +she would reproach him. He had not yet +realized that the day of reproaches and +appeals, very bitter while it lasted, was long +past, years past. The silence of those who +have loved us is sometimes eloquent as a +tombstone of that which has been buried +beneath it.</p> + +<p>The room was very cold. A faint smell +of warm india-rubber and a molehill in the +middle of the bed showed that a hot bottle +was found more economical than coal.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[13]</span></p> + +<p>"Why on earth don't you have a fire?" +he asked, still standing in the doorway, +personally aggrieved at her economies. Di's +economies had often been the subject of sore +annoyance to him. An anxious housekeeper +in her teens sometimes retrenches in the +wrong place, namely where it is unpalatable +to the husband. Di had cured herself of +this fault of late years, but it cropped up now +and again, especially when he returned home +unexpectedly as to-day, and found only +mutton chops for dinner.</p> + +<p>"It was the coal bill that the man came +about this evening," she said, apathetically, +and then the peculiar distressed look giving +place to a more human expression, as she +suddenly became aware of the reproach her +words implied, she added quickly, "but I +am not the least cold, thanks."</p> + +<p>Still he lingered; a sense of ill-usage +generally needs expression.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[14]</span></p> + +<p>"Why did not you come back to the +drawing-room again?"</p> + +<p>There was no answer.</p> + +<p>"I must say you have a knack of making +a man's home uncommonly pleasant for +him."</p> + +<p>Still no answer. Perhaps there were none +left. One may come to an end of answers +sometimes, like other things—money, for +instance.</p> + +<p>"Is my breakfast ordered for half-past +seven, sharp?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Poached eggs?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and stewed kidneys. I hope they +will be right this time. And I've told +Martha to call you at seven punctually."</p> + +<p>"All right. Good night."</p> + +<p>"Good night."</p> + +<p>That had been their parting in this world, +Colonel Tempest remembered bitterly, for<span class="pagenum">[15]</span> +he had been too much hurried next morning +to run up to say good-bye before starting for +Scotland. Those had been the last words +his wife had spoken to him, the woman for +whom he had given up his liberty. So much +for woman's love and tenderness.</p> + +<p>And as the train went heavily on its way, +he recalled, in spite of himself, the last +home-coming after that month's fishing, and +the fog that he shot into as he neared King's +Cross on that dull April morning six years +ago. He remembered his arrival at the +house, and letting himself in and going upstairs. +The house seemed strangely quiet. +In the drawing-room a woman was sitting +motionless in the gaslight. She looked up +as he came in, and he recognized the drawn, +haggard face of Mrs. Courtenay, his wife's +mother, whom he had never seen in his +house before, and who now spoke to him for +the first time since her daughter's marriage.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[16]</span></p> + +<p>"Is that you?" she said, quietly, her face +twitching. "I did not know where you +were. You have a daughter, Colonel Tempest, +of a few hours old."</p> + +<p>He raised his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"And Di?" he asked. "Pretty comfortable?"</p> + +<p>The question was a concession to custom +on Colonel Tempest's part, for, like others +of his enlightened views, he was of course +aware that the pains of childbirth are as +nothing compared to the twinge of gout in +the masculine toe.</p> + +<p>"Diana," said the elder woman, with concentrated +passion, as she passed him to leave +the room—"Diana, thank God, is dead!"</p> + +<p>He had never forgiven Mrs. Courtenay +for that speech. He remembered even now +with a shudder of acute self-pity all he had +gone through during the days that followed, +and the silent reproach of the face that even<span class="pagenum">[17]</span> +in death wore a look not of rest, but of a +weariness stern and patient, and a courage +that has looked to the end and can wait.</p> + +<p>And when Mrs. Courtenay had written to +offer to take the little Diana off his hands +altogether provided he would lay no claim +to her later on, he had refused with indignation. +He would not be parted from his +children. But the child was delicate and +wailed perpetually, and he wanted to get rid +of the house, and of all that reminded him +of a past that it was distinctly uncomfortable +to recall. He put the little yellow-haired +boy to school, and, when Mrs. Courtenay +repeated her offer, he accepted it; and Di, +with her bassinette and the minute feather-stitched +wardrobe that her mother had made +for her packed inside her little tin bath, +drove away one day in a four-wheeler straight +out of Colonel Tempest's existence and very +soon out of his memory.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[18]</span></p> + +<p>His marriage had been the ruin of him, +he said to himself, reviewing the last few +years. It had done for him with his brother. +He had been a fool to sacrifice so much for +a pretty face, and she had not had a shilling. +He had chucked away all his chances in +marrying her. He might have married +anybody; but he had never seen a woman +before or since with a turn of the neck and +shoulder to equal hers. Poor Di! She had +spoilt his life, no doubt, but she had had her +good points after all.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Poor Di! Perhaps she too had had her +dark hours. Perhaps she had given love +to a man capable only of a passing passion. +Perhaps she had sold her woman's birthright +for red pottage, and had borne the penalty, +not with an exceeding bitter cry, but in an +exceeding bitter silence. Perhaps she had +struggled against the disillusion and desecration<span class="pagenum">[19]</span> +of life, the despair and the self-loathing +that go to make up an unhappy marriage. +Perhaps in the deepening shadows of death +she had heard her new-born child cry to her +through the darkness, and had yearned over +it, and yet—and yet had been glad to go.</p> + +<p>However these things may have been, +at any rate, she had a turn of the neck and +shoulder which lived in her husband's +memory. Poor Di!</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Colonel Tempest shook himself free from +a train of reflections which had led him to +a death-bed, and suddenly remembered +with a shudder of repugnance that he was +on his way to another at this moment.</p> + +<p>His brother had not sent for him. +Colonel Tempest was hazarding an unsolicited +visit. He had announced his +intention of coming, but he had received +no permission to do so. Nevertheless he<span class="pagenum">[20]</span> +had actually screwed up his weak and +vacillating nature to the sticking point of +putting himself and his son into the train +when the morning arrived that he had +fixed on for going to Overleigh.</p> + +<p>"For the sake of the old name, and for +the sake of the boy," he said to himself, +looking at the delicate regular profile silhouetted +against the window-pane. If +Archie had had a pair of wings folded +underneath his little great-coat, he would +have made a perfect model for an angel, +with his fair hair and face, and the sweet +serious eyes that contemplated, without any +change of expression, his choir book at +chapel, or the last grappling contortions of +a cockroach, ingeniously transfixed to the +book-ledge with a pin, to relieve the +monotony of the sermon.</p> + +<p>"Overleigh! Overleigh! Overleigh!" +called out a porter, as the train stopped.<span class="pagenum">[21]</span> +Colonel Tempest started. There already! +How long it was since he had got out at +that station! There was a new station-master, +and the station itself had been +altered. He looked at the little red tin +shelter erected on the off-side with an alien +eye. It had not been there in <i>his</i> time. +There was no carriage to meet him, although +he had mentioned the train by which he +intended to arrive. His heart sank a little +as he took Archie by the hand and set out +to walk. The distance was nothing, for the +station had been made specially for the convenience +of the Tempests, and lay within +a few hundred yards of the castle gates. +But the omen was a bad one. Would his +mission fail?</p> + +<p>How unchanged everything was! He +seemed to remember every stone upon the +road. There was the turn up to the village, +and the low tower of the church peering<span class="pagenum">[22]</span> +through the haze of the April trees. They +passed through the old Italian gates—there +was a new woman at the lodge to open +them—and entered the park. Archie drew +in his breath. He had never seen deer at +large before. He supposed his uncle must +keep a private zoological gardens on a large +scale, and his awe of him increased.</p> + +<p>"Are the lions and the tigers loose too?" +he inquired, with grave interest, but without +anxiety, as his eyes followed a little +band of fallow deer skimming across the +turf.</p> + +<p>"There are no lions and tigers, Archie," +said his father, tightening his clasp on the +little hand. If Colonel Tempest had ever +loved anything, it was his son.</p> + +<p>They had come to a turn in the broad +white road which he knew well. He stopped +and looked. High on a rocky crag, looking +out over its hanging woods and gardens, the<span class="pagenum">[23]</span> +old grey castle stood, its long walls and +solemn towers outlined against the sky. +The flag was flying.</p> + +<p>"He is still alive," said Colonel Tempest, +remembering a certain home-coming long +ago, when, as he galloped up the steep +winding drive, even as he rode, the flag +dropped half-mast high before his eyes, and +he knew his father was dead.</p> + +<p>They had reached the ascent to the castle, +and Colonel Tempest turned from the broad +road, and struck into a little path that +clambered upwards towards the gardens +through the hanging woods. It was a short +cut to the house. It was here he had first +seen Diana, and he pondered over the +fidelity of mind which, after fourteen years, +could remember the exact spot. There was +the wooden bridge over the stream where +she had stood, her white gown reflected in +the water below her, the heart of the<span class="pagenum">[24]</span> +summer woods enfolding her like the setting +of a jewel. The seringa and the laburnum +were out. The air was faint with perfume. +She stood looking at him with lovely surprised +eyes, in her exceeding youth and +beauty. Involuntarily his mind turned from +that first meeting to the last parting seven +years later. The cold, dark, London bedroom, +the bowed figure in the low chair, +the fatigued smell of tepid india-rubber. +What a gulf between the radiant young girl +and the woman with the white exhausted +face! Alas! for the many parts a woman +may have to play in her time to one and +the same man. Colonel Tempest laughed +harshly to himself, and his powerful mind +reverted to the old refrain, "What fools men +are to marry."</p> + +<p>It had been summer when he had seen +her first, but now it was early spring. The +woods were very silent. God was making<span class="pagenum">[25]</span> +a special revelation in their heart, was turning +over one more page of His New Testament. +He had walked once again in His +garden, and at the touch of His feet, all +young sheaths and spears of growing things +were stirring and pressing up to do His +will. The larch had hastened to hang out +his pink tassels. The primroses had been +the first among the flowers to receive the +Divine message, and were repeating it +already in their own language to those +that had ears to hear it. The folded buds +of the anemones had heard the whisper +<i>Ephphatha</i>, and were opening one after +another their pure shy eyes. The arched +neck of the young bracken was showing +among the brown ancestors of last year. +The marsh marigolds thronged the water's +edge. Every battered dyke and rocky scar +was transfigured. God was once again +making all things new.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[26]</span></p> + +<p>Only a mole, high on its funeral twig, held +out tiny human hands, worn with honest +toil, to its Maker, in mute protest against a +steel death "that nature never made" for +little agriculturists. Death was still in the +world apparently, side by side with the +resurrection of the flowers. Archie paused +to glance contemptuously and shy a stick at +the corpse as he passed. It looked as if it +had not afforded much sport before it died. +Colonel Tempest puffed a little, for the +ascent was steep, and he was not so slim +as he had once been. He sat down on a +circular wooden seat round a yew tree +by the path. He began to dislike the +idea of going on. And, perhaps, after all, +he would be told by the servants that his +brother would not see him. Jack was quite +capable of making himself disagreeable to +the last. Really, on the whole, perhaps the +best course would be to go down the hill<span class="pagenum">[27]</span> +again. It is always so much easier to go +down than to go up; so much pleasanter at +the moment to avoid what may be distasteful +to a sensitive mind.</p> + +<p>"Archie," said Colonel Tempest.</p> + +<p>The boy did not hear him. He was looking +intently at a little patch of ground near +the garden seat, which had evidently been +carefully laid out by a landscape-gardener +of about his own age. Every hair of grass +or weed had been scratched up within the +irregular wall of fir cones that bounded the +enclosure. Grey sand imported from a +distance, possibly from the brook, marked +winding paths therein, in course of completion. +A sunk bucket with a squirt in it, +indicated an intention, as yet unmatured, +to add a fountain to the natural beauties of +the site.</p> + +<p>"You go in this way, father," said Archie, +grasping the situation with becoming gravity,<span class="pagenum">[28]</span> +and pointing out the two oyster shells that +flanked the main entrance, "then you walk +round the lake. Look; he has got a duck +ready. Oh, dear! and see, father, here is +his name. I would have done it all in white +stones if it had been me. J. O. H. N. +John. Father, who is John?"</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest's temper was like a +curate's gun. You could never tell when it +might not go off, or in what direction. It +went off now with an explosion. It had +been at full cock all the morning.</p> + +<p>"Who is John?" he repeated, fiercely +kicking the letters on the ground to right +and left. "You may well ask that. John is +a confounded interloper. He has no right +here. Damn John!"</p> + +<p>Archie was following the parental boot +with anxious eyes. The tin duck was dinted +in on one side, and bulged out on the other +in a manner painful to behold. It would<span class="pagenum">[29]</span> +certainly never swim again. The turn of +the squirt might come any moment. But +when his father began to say damn, Archie +had always found it better not to interfere.</p> + +<p>"Come along, Archie," said Colonel +Tempest, furiously, "don't stand fooling +there," and he began to mount the path with +redoubled energy. All thought of turning +back was forgotten.</p> + +<p>Archie looked back ruefully at the devastated +pleasure-grounds. The fir cone +boundary was knocked over at one corner. +All privacy was lost; anything might get +in now, and the duck, if she recovered, could +get out. It was much to be regretted.</p> + +<p>"Poor damn John," said Archie, slipping +his hand into that of the grown-up child +whom he had for a father.</p> + +<p>"Poor John!" echoed Colonel Tempest, +his temper evaporating a little, "I only wish +it <i>were</i> poor John; and not poor Archie.<span class="pagenum">[30]</span> +That was <i>your</i> garden, Archie, do you hear, +my boy—yours, not his. And you shall +have it, too, if I can get it for you."</p> + +<p>"I don't want it now," said Archie, +gravely; "you've spoilt it."</p> + +<div class="center"> +<img src="images/i-ep01.jpg" width="500" height="245" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chapter" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[31]</span></p> + +<div class="center"> +<img src="images/i-ch02.jpg" width="600" height="182" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<p class="centern">"And another dieth in the bitterness of his soul."—<span class="smcap">Job</span> +xxi. 25.</p> + +<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/drop_a.jpg" width="80" height="79" alt="A" /> +<span class="hide">A</span> PROFOUND knowledge of human +nature enunciated the decree, "Thou +shalt not covet thy neighbour's <i>house</i>," and +relegated the neighbour's wife to a back seat +among the servants and live stock.</p> + +<p>The intense love of a house, passing the +love even of prohibited women, is a passion +which those who "nightly pitch their moving +tents" in villas and hired dwellings, and +look upon heaven as their home, can hardly +imagine, and frequently regard with the +amused contempt of ignorance. But where<span class="pagenum">[32]</span> +pride is a leading power the affections will +be generally found immediately in its wake. +In these days it is the fashion, especially of +the vulgar-minded well-born, to decry birth +as being of no account. Those who do so, +apparently fail to perceive that, by the very +fact of decrying it, they proclaim their own +innate lack of appreciation of those very +advantages of refinement, manners, and a +certain distinction and freemasonry of feeling, +which birth has evidently withheld from +them personally, but which, nevertheless, +birth alone can bestow. The strong hereditary +pride of race which is as natural a +result of time and fixed habitat as the forest +oak—which is bred in the bone and comes +out in the flesh from generation to generation—is +accompanied, as a rule, by a +passionate love, not of houses, but of <i>the</i> +house, the home, the eyrie, the one sacred +spot from which the race sprang.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[33]</span></p> + +<p>Among the Tempests devotion to Overleigh +had been an hereditary instinct from +time immemorial. Other possessions, gifts +of royalty, or dowers of heiresses came +and went. Overleigh remained from generation +to generation. Scapegrace Tempests +squandered the family fortune, and mortgaged +the family properties, but others rose +up in their place, who, whatever else was +lost, kept fast hold on Overleigh. The old +castle on the crag had passed through many +vicissitudes. It had been originally built in +Edward II.'s time, and the remains of fortification, +and the immense thickness of the +outer walls, showed how fierce had been the +inroads of Scot and Borderer which such +strength was needed to repel. The massive +arched doorway through which the yelling +hordes of the Tempests and their retainers +swooped down, with black lion on pennant +flying, upon the enemy, was walled up in the<span class="pagenum">[34]</span> +time of the Tudors, and the vaulted basement +with its acutely pointed chamfered arches +became the dungeons of the later portion of +the building; the cellars of the present day.</p> + +<p>Overleigh had entertained royalty royally +in its time, and had sheltered royalty more +royally still. Cromwell's cannon had not +prevailed against it. It had been partially +burnt, it had been partially rebuilt. There +it still stood, a glory, and a princely possession +on the lands that had been meted in +the Doomsday book to a certain Norman +knight Ivo de Tempête, the founder of an +iron race. And in the nineteenth century +a Tempest held it still. Tempest had +become a great name. Gradually wealth +had gathered round Overleigh, as the lichen +had gathered round its grey stones. There +were coal-mines now among the marsh-lands +of William the Conqueror's favourite, harbours +and towns along the sea-coast. Tempest of<span class="pagenum">[35]</span> +Overleigh was a power, a name that might +be felt, that had been felt. The name +ranked high among the great commoners of +England. Titles and honours of various +kinds had been offered it from time to time. +But for a Tempest, to be a Tempest was +enough. And Overleigh Castle had remained +their solitary dwelling-place. Houses +were built for younger sons, but the head of +the family made his home invariably at Overleigh +itself. There were town houses in +London and York, but country seats were not +multiplied. To be a Tempest was enough. +To live and die at Overleigh was enough.</p> + +<p>Some one was dying at Overleigh now. +Mr. Tempest had come to that pass, and +was taking it very quietly, as he had taken +everything so far, from the elopement of his +betrothed with his brother fourteen years +ago, to the death of his poor, pretty faithless +wife in the room where he was now lying;<span class="pagenum">[36]</span> +the round oak-panelled room, which followed +the outer wall of the western tower; the +room in which he had been born, where +Tempests had arrived and departed, and +lain in state. And now after a solitary life +he was dying, as he had lived, alone.</p> + +<p>He had gone too far down the steep path +which leads no man knows whither, to care +much for anything that he was leaving +behind. He had not read his brother's +letter announcing his coming. It lay with +a pile of others for some one hereafter to +sort or burn. Mr. Tempest had done with +letters, had done with everything except +Death. The pressure of Death's hand was +heavy on him, upon his eyes, upon his heart. +He had been a punctual man all his life. +He hoped he should not be kept waiting +long.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Colonel Tempest followed the servant<span class="pagenum">[37]</span> +with inward trepidation across the white +stone hall. He had been at once admitted, +for it was known that Mr. Tempest was +dying, and the only wonder in the minds +of nurse and doctor and servants was that +his only brother had not arrived before. +The servant led the way along the picture-gallery. +A child was playing at the further +end of it under the Velasquez; or, to speak +more correctly, was looking earnestly out of +one of the low mullioned windows. The +voice of the young year was calling him +from without, as the spring calls only the +young. But he might not go out to-day, +though there were nests waiting for him, +and holiday glories in wood and meadow +that his soul longed after. He had been told +he must stay in, in case that stern silent +father who was dying should ask for him. +John did not think he would want him, for +when had he ever wanted him yet? but he<span class="pagenum">[38]</span> +remained at his post at the window, breathing +his silent longing into a little mist on the +pane.</p> + +<p>He looked round as Colonel Tempest and +Archie approached, and then came gravely +forward, and put out a strong little brown +hand.</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest just touched it without +speaking, and turned his eyes away. He +could not trust himself to look again at the +erect dignified little figure with its square +dark face. When had there ever been a +dark Tempest?</p> + +<p>The two boys, near of an age, looked +each other straight in the eyes. Archie was +the younger and the taller of the two.</p> + +<p>"Are you John?" he asked at once.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"John what?"</p> + +<p>"No. John Amyas Tempest."</p> + +<p>"Archie," said Colonel Tempest, who had<span class="pagenum">[39]</span> +grown rather pale, "you can stay here with——, +until I send for you." And with one +backward glance at them, he followed the +servant to an ante-room, where the doctor +presently came to him.</p> + +<p>"I am his only brother," said Colonel +Tempest hoarsely. "Can I see him?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my dear sir, certainly; but at +the same time all agitation, all tendency to +excitement, must be rigorously avoided."</p> + +<p>"Is he really dying?" interrupted Colonel +Tempest.</p> + +<p>"He is."</p> + +<p>"How long has he?" Colonel Tempest +felt as if a hand were tightening round his +throat. The doctor shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Three hours. Five hours. He might +live through the night. I cannot say."</p> + +<p>"There would be time," said Colonel +Tempest to himself; and, not without a +shuddering foreboding that his brother might<span class="pagenum">[40]</span> +die in his actual presence, without giving +him time to bolt, he entered the sick-room, +from which the doctor had beckoned the +nurse, and closed the door.</p> + +<p>The room was full of light, for the dying +man had been oppressed by the darkness in +which he lay, and a vain attempt had been +made to alleviate it by the flood of April +sunshine which had been let into the room. +Through the open window came the rapture +of the birds.</p> + +<p>Mr. Tempest lay perfectly motionless with +his eyes half closed. His worn face had a +strong family resemblance to his brother's, +with the beauty left out.</p> + +<p>"Jack!" said Colonel Tempest.</p> + +<p>Mr. Tempest heard from an immense +distance, and came painfully back across +long wastes and desert places of confused +memories, came slowly back to the room, +and the dim sunshine, and himself; and<span class="pagenum">[41]</span> +stopped short with a jarred sense as he +saw his own long feeble hands laid upon +the counterpane. He had forgotten them, +though he recognized them now he saw +them again. Why had he returned?</p> + +<p>"Jack," said the voice again.</p> + +<p>Mr. Tempest opened his eyes suddenly, +and looked full at his brother—at the false, +weak, handsome face of the man who had +injured him.</p> + +<p>It all came back, the passion and the +despair; the intolerable agony of jealousy +and baffled love; and the deadly, deadly +hatred. Fourteen years ago was it since +Diana had been taken from him? It returned +upon him as though it were yesterday. A +light flamed up in the dying eyes before +which Colonel Tempest quailed.</p> + +<p>All the sentences he had prepared beforehand +seemed to fail him, as prepared sentences +have a way of doing, being made to<span class="pagenum">[42]</span> +fit imaginary circumstances, and being consequently +unsuited to any others. Mr. +Tempest, who had not prepared anything, +had the advantage.</p> + +<p>"Curse you," he said, in his low, difficult +whisper. "You damned scoundrel!"</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest was shocked. To bear +a grudge after all these years! Jack had +always been vindictive! And what an unchristian +state of mind for one on the brink +of that nightmare of horror, the grave! He +was unable to articulate.</p> + +<p>"What are you here for?" said Mr. +Tempest, after a pause. "Who let you in? +Why can't I be allowed to die in peace?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't talk like that, Jack!" gasped +Colonel Tempest, speaking extempore, after +fumbling in all the empty pockets of his +mind for something appropriate to say. "I +am sure I am very sorry for——" A look +warned him that even his tactful reference<span class="pagenum">[43]</span> +to a certain subject would be resented. +"But, it's all past and gone now, and—it's +a long time ago, and you're——"</p> + +<p>"Dying," suggested Mr. Tempest.</p> + +<p>"... and," hurried on Colonel Tempest, +glad of the lift, "it's not for my own sake +I've come. But I've got a boy, Jack; he is +here now. I have brought him with me. +Such a fine, handsome boy—every inch a +Tempest, and the image of our father. I +don't want to speak for myself, but for the +sake of the boy, and the place, and the old +name."</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest hid his quivering face in +his hands. He was really moved.</p> + +<p>The sick man's mouth twitched; he +evidently understood his brother's incoherent +words.</p> + +<p>"John succeeds," he said.</p> + +<p>The two men looked away from each other.</p> + +<p>"John is not a Tempest," said Colonel<span class="pagenum">[44]</span> +Tempest, in a choked voice. "You know +it—everybody knows it!"</p> + +<p>"He was born in wedlock."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but he is not your son. You +would have divorced her if she had lived. +He is the legal heir, of course, if you countenance +him; but something might be done +still—it is not too late. I know the estate +goes, failing you and your children, to me +and mine. Don't bear a grudge, Jack. You +can't have any feeling for the child—it's +against nature. Remember the old name +and the old place, that has never been out of +the hands of a Tempest yet. Don't drag +our honour in the dust and put it to open +shame! Think how it would have grieved +our father. Let me call in the doctor and +the nurse, and disown him now before witnesses. +Such things have been done before, +and may be again. I can contest his claim +then; I shall have something to go on. And<span class="pagenum">[45]</span> +you <i>must</i> have proofs of his illegitimacy if +you will only give them. But there will be +<i>no</i> chance if you uphold him to the last, and +if—and if you—die—without speaking."</p> + +<p>Mr. Tempest made no answer except to +look his brother steadily in the face. The +look was sufficient. It said plainly enough, +"That is what I mean to do."</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest lost all hope, but despair +made one final clutch—a last desperate appeal +to his brother's feelings. It is one of the +misfortunes of self-centred people that their +otherwise convenient habit of disregarding +what is passing in the minds of others, leads +them to trample on their feelings at the very +moment when most desirous of turning them +to their own account. Colonel Tempest, +with the best intentions of a pure self-interest, +trampled heavily.</p> + +<p>"Pass me over—cut me out," he said, +with a vague inappreciation of points of law.<span class="pagenum">[46]</span> +"I'll sign anything you please; but let the +little chap have it—let Archie have it—<i>Di's +son</i>."</p> + +<p>There was a silence that might be felt. +Approaching death seemed to make a stride +in those few breathless seconds; but it seemed +also as if a determined will were holding him +momentarily at arm's length. Mr. Tempest +turned his fading face towards his brother. +His eyes were unflinching, but his voice was +almost inaudible.</p> + +<p>"Leave me," he said. "John succeeds."</p> + +<p>The blood rushed to Colonel Tempest's +head, and then seemed to ebb away from his +heart. A sudden horror took him of some +subtle change that was going forward in the +room, and, seeing all was lost, he hastily +left it.</p> + +<p>The two boys had fraternized meanwhile. +Each, it appeared, was collecting coins, and +Archie gave a glowing account of the cabinet<span class="pagenum">[47]</span> +his father had given him to put them in. +John kept his in an old sock, which he +solemnly produced, and the time was happily +passed in licking the most important coins, +to give them a momentary brightness, and +in comparing notes upon them. John was +sorry when Colonel Tempest came hurriedly +down the gallery and carried Archie off +before he had time to say good-bye, or to +offer him his best coin, which he had hot in +his hand with a view to presentation.</p> + +<p>Before he had time to gather up his collection, +the old doctor came to him, and told +him, very gravely and kindly, that his father +wished to see him.</p> + +<p>John nodded, and put down the sock at +once. He was a person of few words, and, +though he longed to ask a question now, he +asked it with his eyes only. John's deep-set +eyes were very dark and melancholy. Could +it be that his mother's remorse had left its<span class="pagenum">[48]</span> +trace in the young unconscious eyes of her +child? Their beauty somewhat redeemed +the square ugliness of the rest of his face.</p> + +<p>The doctor patted him on the head, and +led him gently to Mr. Tempest's door.</p> + +<p>"Go in and speak to him," he said. "Do +not be afraid. I shall be in the next room +all the time."</p> + +<p>"I am not afraid," said John, drawing +himself up, and he went quietly across the +great oak-panelled room and stood at the +bedside.</p> + +<p>There was a look of tension in Mr. Tempest's +face and hands, as if he were holding +on tightly to something which, did he once +let go, he would never be able to regain.</p> + +<p>"John," he said, in an acute whisper.</p> + +<p>"Yes, father." The child's face was pale +and his eyes looked awed, but they met +Mr. Tempest's bravely.</p> + +<p>"Try and listen to what I am going to<span class="pagenum">[49]</span> +say, and remember it. You are a very little +boy now, but you will hold a great position +some day—when you are a man. You will +be the head of the family. Tempest is one +of the oldest names in England. Remember +what I say"—the whisper seemed to break +and ravel down under the intense strain put +on it to a single quivering strand—"remember—you +will understand it when you are older. +It is a great trust put into your hands. +When you grow into a man, much will be +expected of you. Never disgrace your +name; it stands high. Keep it up—keep it +up." The whisper seemed to die altogether, +but an iron will forced it momentarily back +to the grey toiling lips. "You are the head +of the family; do your duty by it. You will +have no one much to help you. I shall not—be +there. You must learn to be an upright, +honourable gentleman by yourself. +Do you understand?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[50]</span></p> + +<p>"Yes, father."</p> + +<p>"And you will—<i>remember</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father." If the lip quivered, the +answer came nevertheless.</p> + +<p>"That is all; you can go."</p> + +<p>The child hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Good night," he said gravely, advancing +a step nearer. The sun was still streaming +across the room, but it seemed to him, as +he looked at the familiar, unfamiliar face, +that it was night already.</p> + +<p>"Don't kiss me," said the dying man. +"Good night."</p> + +<p>And the child went.</p> + +<p>Mr. Tempest sighed heavily, and relaxed +his hold on the consciousness that was ready +to slip away from him, and wander feebly +out he knew not whither. Hours and voices +came and went. His own voice had gone +down into silence before him. It was still +broad daylight, but the casement was slowly<span class="pagenum">[51]</span> +growing "a glimmering square," and he +observed it.</p> + +<p>Presently it flickered—glimmered—and +went out.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i-ep02.jpg" width="500" height="261" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chapter" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[52]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i-ch03.jpg" width="600" height="187" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"As the foolish moth returning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To its Moloch, and its burning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wheeling nigh, and ever nigher,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Falls at last into the fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Flame in flame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So the soul that doth begin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making orbits round a sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Ends the same."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/drop_i.jpg" width="80" height="79" alt="I" /> +<span class="hide">I</span>T was a sultry night in June rather +more than a year after Mr. Tempest's +death. An action had been brought by +Colonel Tempest directly after his brother's +death, when the will was proved in which +Mr. Tempest bequeathed everything in his +power to bequeath to his "son John." The +action failed; no one except Colonel<span class="pagenum">[53]</span> +Tempest had ever been sanguine that it +would succeed. Colonel Tempest was +unable to support an assertion of which few +did not recognize the probable truth. No +proof of John's suspected illegitimacy was +forthcoming. His mother had died when +he was born; it was eleven years ago. The +fact that Mr. Tempest had mentioned him +by name as his son in his will was overwhelming +evidence to the contrary. The +long-delayed blow fell at last. A verdict +was given in favour of the little schoolboy.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry for you, I am, indeed," said +Mr. Swayne, composedly watching Colonel +Tempest flinging himself about his little +room, into which the latter had just rushed, +nearly beside himself at the decision of a +bribed and perjured court.</p> + +<p>Mr. Swayne was a stout, florid-looking +man between forty and fifty, with a heavy +face like a grimace that some one else had<span class="pagenum">[54]</span> +made, who laboured under the delusion, unshared +by any of his fellow-creatures, that +he was a gentleman. In what class he had +been born no one knew. What he was now +any one could see for himself. He was +generally considered by the men with whom +he associated a good fellow for an ally in a +disreputable pinch, and a blackguard when +the pinch was over. Every one regarded +Dandy Swayne with contempt, but for all +that "The Snowdrop," as he was playfully +called, might be seen in the chambers and +at the dinners of men far above him in the +social scale, who probably for very good +reasons tolerated his presence, and for even +better reviled him behind his back. He had +a certain shrewdness and knowledge of the +seamy side of human nature which stood +him in good stead. He was a noted billiard +player—a little too noted, perhaps. His +short, thick ringed hands did not mind much<span class="pagenum">[55]</span> +what they fastened on. He was not troubled +by conscientious scruples. The charm of +Dandy Swayne's character was that he stuck +at nothing. He would go down any sewer +provided there was money in it, and money +there always was somewhere in everything +he took in hand. Dandy Swayne's career +had had strange ups and downs. No one +knew how he lived. The private fortune +on which he was wont to enlarge of course +existed only in his own imagination. Sometimes +he disappeared entirely for longer or +shorter periods—generally after money +transactions of a nature that required +privacy and foreign travel. But the same +Providence which tempers the wind to the +shorn lamb watches over the shearer also, +and he always reappeared again, sooner or +later, with his creased white waistcoat and +yesterday's gardenia, and the old swagger +that endeared him to his fellow-creatures.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[56]</span></p> + +<p>He was up in the world just now, living +"in style" in smart chambers strewn with +photographs of actresses, and littered with +cheap expensive furniture, and plush hangings +redolent of smoke and stale scent, +among which Colonel Tempest was knocking +about in his disordered evening dress.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry for you, Colonel," repeated +Mr. Swayne, slowly; "but I wish to —— +you'd sit down and not rush up and down +like that. It's not a bit of good taking on +in that way, though it's —— —— luck all +the same."</p> + +<p>Mr. Swayne's conversation was devoid of +that severe simplicity which society demands; +indeed, it was so encrusted and enriched +with ornamental gems of expression of a +surprising and dubious character, that to +present his conversation to the reader without +the personal peculiarities of his choice of +language is to do him an injustice which,<span class="pagenum">[57]</span> +however unavoidable, is much to be regretted. +Mr. Swayne's conversation without his oaths +might be compared to a bird without its +feathers; the body is there, but all individuality +and beauty of contour is gone.</p> + +<p>Mr. Swayne filled his glass, and pushed +the bottle across to his friend, whose flushed +face and shaking hand showed that he had +had enough already. Colonel Tempest sat +down impatiently and filled his glass, too.</p> + +<p>"It's the will that did it, I suppose," +suggested Mr. Swayne; "that tipped it +over."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Colonel Tempest, striking his +clenched hand on the table. "<i>My son John</i> +he called him in his will; there was no +getting over that. He knew it when he put +those words in. He knew I should contest +the succession, and he hated me so that he +perjured himself to keep me out of my own, +and stuck to it even on his death-bed. John<span class="pagenum">[58]</span> +is no more his son than you are. A little +dark Fane, that is what he is. They say he +takes after his mother's family; he well may +do, —— him!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Swayne sympathetically echoed the +sentiment in a varied but not less forcible +form of speech.</p> + +<p>"And my son," continued Colonel Tempest, +his fair weak face whitening with +passion—"you know my boy; look at him—a +Tempest to the backbone, down to his +finger-nails. You can't look at him among +the pictures in the gallery and not see he is +bone of their bone and flesh of their flesh. +He is as like the Vandyke of Amyas +Tempest the cavalier as he can be. It +drives me mad to think of him, cut out by +a bastard!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Swayne appeared to be in a meditative +turn of mind. He watched the smoke +of his cigar curl upwards from the unshaved +crater of his lip into the air.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[59]</span></p> + +<p>"You're in the tail, I suppose?" he remarked +at last.</p> + +<p>"Of course I am. If my brother John +died without children, everything was to +come to me and my heirs. My brother had +only a life interest in the place."</p> + +<p>"Then I don't see how he was to blame, +doing as he did, if it was entailed all along +on his son." Mr. Swayne spoke with a +certain cautious interest.</p> + +<p>"He never <i>had</i> a son. If he had disowned +his wife's child, everything would +have come to me."</p> + +<p>"Lor!" said Mr. Swayne, "I did not +understand it was so near as that. Then +this little chap, this John, he's all that +stands between you and the property, is he? +Failing him, it still comes to you?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Swayne's small tightly-wedged eyes, +with the expression of dissipated boot-buttons, +were beginning to show a gleam of +professional interest.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[60]</span></p> + +<p>"Yes, it would; but John won't fail," said +Colonel Tempest, savagely. "He will keep +us out. We shall be as poor as rats as long +as we live, and shall see him chucking our +money right and left!" and Colonel Tempest, +who was by this time hardly responsible +for what he said, ground his teeth and cursed +his enemy in a paroxysm of rage and drink. +Mr. Swayne observed him attentively.</p> + +<p>"Don't take on so, Colonel," he remarked +soothingly. "Dear me, what's a little +boy?—What's a little boy here or there," he +continued, meditatively, "one more or one +less? There's a sight of little kids in the +world; some wanted, some not. I've known +cases, Colonel"—here he fixed his eyes on +the ceiling—"cases with parents, maybe, +singing up in heaven and takin' no notice, +when little chaps that weren't wanted, that +nobody took to, seemed to—meet with an +accident, get snuffed out by mistake."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[61]</span></p> + +<p>"John won't meet with an accident," said +Colonel Tempest passionately. "I wish to —— he would!"</p> + +<p>"I look at it this way," said Mr. Swayne, +philosophically. "There's things gentlemen +can do, and there's things they can't. A +gentleman is a party that can't do his dirty +work for himself, though as often as not he +has a deal on his hands that must be shoved +through somehow. The thing is to find +parties who'll take what I call a personal +interest, if it's made worth their while. Now +about this little boy, that no one wants, and is +a comfort to nobody. It's quite curious the +things little boys will do; out in boats alone, +outriggers now, as dangerous as can be, or +leaning out of railway carriages in tunnels. +Lor! you never know what they won't be +up to, little rascals. They're made of mischief. +Forty thousand a year, is it, he is +keeping you out of, and yours by right?<span class="pagenum">[62]</span> +Well, I don't say anything about that; but +all I say is, I have friends I can find that +are open to a bet. What's the harm of betting +a thousand pounds to one sovereign +that you never come into the property? It +ain't likely, as you say. What's the harm of +a bet, provided you don't mind risking your +money? Let's say, just for the sake of—of +argument, that there <i>was</i> ten bets—ten bets +at a thousand to one that you never come in. +Ten thousand pounds to pay, if you come +in after all. What's ten thousand pounds to +a man with forty thousand a year?" Mr. +Swayne snapped his fingers. "And no +trouble to nobody. Nothing to do but to +pay up quietly when the time comes. It +don't concern you who takes up the bets, +and you don't know either. You know +nothing at all about it. You lay your money, +and, look here, Colonel, you mark my words, +some way or somehow, some time or other, +<i>that boy will disappear</i>."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[63]</span></p> + +<p>The two men looked steadily at each +other. Colonel Tempest's eyes were bloodshot, +but Mr. Swayne had all his wits about +him; he never became intoxicated, even at +the expense of others, if there was money in +keeping sober.</p> + +<p>"Curse him!" said Colonel Tempest in a +hoarse whisper. "He should not get in my +light."</p> + +<p>The child was to blame, naturally.</p> + +<p>Mr. Swayne did not answer, but went to a +side table, on which were pens, ink, and +paper. Some things, if done at all, are best +done quickly.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i-ep03.jpg" width="500" height="242" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chapter" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[64]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i-ch04.jpg" width="600" height="195" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<p class="centern">"After the red pottage comes the exceeding bitter cry."</p> + +<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/drop_f.jpg" width="80" height="79" alt="F" /> +<span class="hide">F</span>IFTEEN years is a long time. What +companies of trite reflections crowd +the mind as it looks back across the marshes +and the fens, and the highlands and the +lowlands, and the weary desert places, to +some point that catches the eye in the +middle distance! We stood there once. +Perhaps we go back in memory—all the +way back—to that little town and spire in +the green country, and pray once again in +the cool vision-haunted church, and peer up +once again at the window in the narrow<span class="pagenum">[65]</span> +street where Love lived and looked out, +where patience and affection dwell together +now. They were always friends, those two.</p> + +<p>Or perhaps we look back to a parting of +the ways which did not seem to be a parting +at the time, and recall a "Good-bye" that +was lightly uttered because it was only +thought to be <i>Au revoir</i>. We see now, +from where we stand, the point where the +paths diverged.</p> + +<p>Fifteen years!</p> + +<p>They have not passed very smoothly over +the head of Colonel Tempest. Whenever +he looked back across the breezy uplands of +his well-spent life, his eye avoided and yet +was inevitably attracted with a loathing +allurement to one dark spot in the middle +distance, where——</p> + +<p>Fifteen years ago or yesterday was it?</p> + +<p>The old nightmare, with the shuddering +horror of yesterday mingled with the heavy<span class="pagenum">[66]</span> +pressure of years, might come back at any +moment—was always coming back.</p> + +<p>That sultry night in June!</p> + +<p>Everything was disjointed and fragmentary +in his memory the morning after it; he +could not see the whole. He had a confused +recollection of an intense passionate hatred +that was like a physical pain, and of Swayne's +voice saying, "What's a little boy?" And +then there were slips of paper. Swayne said +a bet was a bet. He, Colonel Tempest, had +had something to do with those slips of +paper—<i>What?</i>—One had fallen on the floor, +and Swayne had blotted it carefully. There +was Swayne's voice again, "Your handwriting +ain't up to much, Colonel." He +had written something then. What was it? +His own name? Memory failed. Who +was that devil in the room, with Swayne's +face and blurred watch-chain—two watch-chains—and +the thick busy hands? And<span class="pagenum">[67]</span> +then it was night, and he was in the streets +again in the hot darkness, among the blinking +lamps and stars that looked like eyes, +and Swayne was seeing him home. And +there was a horror over everything; horror +leant over him at night, horror woke him +in the morning and pursued him throughout +the day, and the next day, and the +next. What had he done? He tried to +piece together the broken fragments that +his groping memory could glean; but +nothing came of it—at least, nothing he +could believe. But Swayne knew. On the +third day he could bear it no longer, and he +went to find him; but Swayne had disappeared. +Colonel Tempest went up to his +chambers on the pretence of a letter—of +something; he knew not what. They were +swept and garnished in readiness for new +arrivals, for if one choice spirit disappears, +a good landlady knows what to expect.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[68]</span></p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest looked once round the +room, and then sat feebly down. It was as +if for days he had been staring at a blank +sheet, and now a dark slide had been +suddenly taken from the magic lantern. +The picture was before him in all its tawdry +distinctness. <i>He knew what he had done.</i></p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest was not a radically bad +man. Who is? But there was in him a +kind of weakness of fibre which consists +in being subservient to the impulse of the +moment. The effects of a feeble yielding +to impulse are sometimes hardly to be distinguished +from those of the most deliberate +and thorough-paced sin.</p> + +<p>He was conscious of good in himself, of +a refined dislike to coarseness and vice even +when he dabbled in it, of vague longings +after better things, of amiable, even chivalrous, +inclinations towards others, especially +towards women not of his own family. In<span class="pagenum">[69]</span> +his own family, where there had always +been, even in his mother's time, some feminine +weakness or imperfection for a manly +nature to point out and ridicule, of course +courtesy and tenderness could not be expected +of him.</p> + +<p>Thus at each juncture of his life he was +obliged to justify what he would have called +his failings, what some would have called +sins, by laying the blame on others, and by +this means to account for the glaring discrepancy +between the inward and spiritual +gracefulness of his feelings and the outward +and visible signs of his actions.</p> + +<p>A man with such good impulses, such an +affectionate nature, cannot be a sinner. If +there was one thing more than another that +Colonel Tempest thoroughly believed in, it +was in his affectionate nature. He might +have his faults, he was wont to say, but his +heart was in the right place. If things went<span class="pagenum">[70]</span> +amiss, the fault was in the circumstance, in +the temptation, in the unfortunate character +of those with whom his life was knit. Weakness +has its superstition, and superstition its +scapegoat. His father had spoilt him. His +wife had not understood him. His brother +had played him false. Swayne had tempted +him.</p> + +<p>What have not those to answer for who +teach us in language, however spiritual, however +orthodox, to lay our sins on others—on +<i>any other</i> except ourselves!</p> + +<p>After the first shock of panic, of terror +lest he had done something for which he +might eventually have to suffer, Colonel +Tempest struggled back to the well-worn +position, now clutched with both hands, that +he had been betrayed in a moment of passion +by a fiend in human shape, and that, if—anything +happened, Swayne was the most +to blame.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[71]</span></p> + +<p>Still they were dreadful days at first—dreadful +weeks in which he suffered for +Swayne's sin. And Swayne seemed to have +disappeared for good—or perhaps for evil.</p> + +<p>And then—gradually—inasmuch as nothing +had power to affect him for long +together, the horror lightened.</p> + +<p>The sun rose and set. The world went on. +A year passed. Archie wrote for money +from school. Things took their usual course. +Colonel Tempest had his hair cut as usual; +he observed with keen regret that it was +thinning at the top. Life settled back into +its old groove.</p> + +<p><i>Nothing happened.</i></p> + +<p>To persons gifted with imagination, what +is more solemn, or more appalling, than the +pause which follows on any decisive action +which is perceived to have within it the seed +of a result—a result which even now is +germinating in darkness, is growing towards<span class="pagenum">[72]</span> +the light, foreseen, but unknown? With +what body will they come, we ask ourselves—these +slow results that spring from the +dust of our spent actions? Faith sows and +waits. Sin sows and trembles. The fool +sows and forgets. Colonel Tempest was +practically an Atheist. He did not believe +in cause and effect; he believed in chance. +He had sown, but perhaps nothing would +come up. He had seen the lightning, but +perhaps the thunder might not follow +after all.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, one winter morning, without +warning, it growled on the horizon.</p> + +<p>"That inconvenient little nephew of yours +has precious nearly hooked it," said a man +in the club to him as he came in. "His +tutor must be a plucky chap. I should owe +him a grudge if I were you."</p> + +<p>The man held out the paper to him, and, +turning away with a laugh, went out whistling.<span class="pagenum">[73]</span> +He meant no harm; but the smallest +arrow of a refined pleasantry can prick if it +happens to come between the joints of the +harness.</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest felt sea-sick. The room +was empty except for the waiter, who was +arranging his breakfast on one of the +tables by the window. The fire leapt +and blazed; everything swayed. He sat +down mechanically in his accustomed place, +still clutching the paper. He tried to +read it, to find the place, but he could +see nothing. At last he poured out a +cup of coffee and drank it, and then tried +again. There it was: Narrow escape of +Mr. Goodwin and Mr. Tempest on the +Metropolitan Railway. Mr. Goodwin and +his charge, Mr. Tempest, were returning by +the last train from the Crystal Palace. +Tremendous crowd on the platform. Struggle +for the train as it came in. Mr. Tempest<span class="pagenum">[74]</span> +pushed down between the still moving train +and the platform. Heroic devotion of Mr. +Goodwin. Rescue of Mr. Tempest uninjured. +Serious injuries of Mr. Goodwin.</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest read no more. He +wiped his forehead.</p> + +<p>Swayne's men were at their devil's work, +then! Perhaps they had tried before and +failed, and he had not heard of it? They +would try again—presently. Perhaps next +time they would succeed.</p> + +<p>The old horror woke up again with an +acuteness that for the moment seemed +greater than he could bear. Weak men +should abstain from wrong-doing. They +cannot stand the brunt of their own actions; +the kick of the gun is too much for them.</p> + +<p>And from that time to this the horror +never wholly left him; if it slumbered, it +was only to reawaken. At long intervals +incidents happened, sometimes of the most<span class="pagenum">[75]</span> +trifling description, and some of which he +did not even hear of at the time, which +roused it afresh. There seemed to be a +fate against John at Eton which followed +him to Oxford. Archie, who was at Eton +and Oxford with him, occasionally let things +drop by chance which made Colonel Tempest's +blood run cold.</p> + +<p>"They have failed so far," he would say to +himself; "but they will do it yet. I know +they will do it in the end!"</p> + +<p>At last he made a desperate attempt to +find Swayne, and cancel the bet; but perhaps +Swayne knew the man he had to deal +with, and had foreseen a movement of that +kind. At any rate, he was not to be discovered. +Colonel Tempest found himself +helpless.</p> + +<p>Was there no anodyne for this recurring +agony? He dared not drown it in drink. +What might he not say under its influence?<span class="pagenum">[76]</span> +The consolations of religion, or rather of the +Church, which he had always understood to +be a sort of mental chloroform for uneasy +consciences, did not seem to meet his case. +The thought of John's danger never troubled +him—John's possible death. The superstitious +terror was for himself alone. He +wanted a religion which would adhere to him +of its own accord, and be in the way when +needed; and he tried various kinds recommended +for the purpose, but—without effect.</p> + +<p>Perhaps a religion for self-centred people +remains to be invented. Even religiosity +(the patent medicine of the spiritual life of +the age—the universal pain-killer)—even religiosity, +though it meets almost all requirements, +does not quite fill that gap.</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest became subject to long +attacks of nervous irritation and depression. +He ceased to be a good, and consequently +a popular, companion. His health, never<span class="pagenum">[77]</span> +strong, always abused, began to waver. At +fifty-five he looked thin and aged. He had +come before his time to the evil days and +the years which have no pleasure in +them.</p> + +<p>As he turned out of St. George's Church, +Hanover Square, on this particular spring +afternoon, whither he had gone to assist at +a certain fashionable wedding at which his +daughter Diana had officiated as bridesmaid, +he looked broken down and feeble beyond +his years.</p> + +<p>A broad-shouldered, dark man elbowed +his way through the throng of footmen and +spectators, and came up with him.</p> + +<p>"Are not you going back to the house?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>"No," said Colonel Tempest—"I hate +weddings! I hate the whole thing. I only +went to have a look at my child, who was +bridesmaid. Di is my only daughter, but I<span class="pagenum">[78]</span> +don't see much of her; others take care of +that." His tone was pathetic. He had +gradually come to believe that his child had +been wrested from him by Mrs. Courtenay, +and that he was a defrauded parent.</p> + +<p>"I am not going to the house, either," +said John Tempest, for it was he. "I don't +hate weddings, but I detest that one. Do +you mind coming down to my club? I have +not seen you really to speak to since I came +back. I want to have a talk with you about +Archie; he seems to have been improving +the shining hours during these three years +I have been away."</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest winced jealously. He +knew John had paid the considerable debts +that Archie had contrived to amass, not +only during the short time he was at +Oxford, before he left to cram for the +army, but also at Sandhurst. But Colonel +Tempest had felt no gratitude on that score.<span class="pagenum">[79]</span> +Was not all John's wealth Archie's by right? +and John must know it. Men do not grow +up in ignorance of such a fact as a slur on +their parentage. What was a dole of a few +hundred pounds now and again, when a man +was wrongfully keeping possession of many +thousands?</p> + +<p>"Young men are all alike," said Colonel +Tempest, testily. "Archie is no worse than +the rest. Poor fellow, it's very little I can +do for him! It's deuced expensive living in +the Guards; I found it so myself."</p> + +<p>John might have asked, except that these +are precisely the questions that make enmity +between relations, why Colonel Tempest +had put him in the Guards, considering that +it was an idle life, and Archie was absolutely +without expectations of any description. He +and his sister Di had not even the modest +fortune of a younger son eventually to +divide between them. One of the beauties<span class="pagenum">[80]</span> +of Colonel Tempest's romantic clandestine +marriage had been the lack of settlements, +which, though it had prevented his wife +bringing him anything owing to the rupture +with her family, had at any rate enabled him +to whittle away his own private fortune at +will, and to inveigh at the same time against +the miserliness of the Courtenays, who +ought, of course, to have provided for his +children.</p> + +<p>How Colonel Tempest kept going at all +no one knew. How Archie was kept going +most people knew, or rather guessed without +difficulty. John and Archie had held firmly +together at Eton, and afterwards at Oxford. +John had untied a very uncomfortable knot +that had arranged itself round the innocent +Archibald at Sandhurst. It could hardly be +said that there was friendship between the +two, but John, though only one year his +cousin's senior, had taken the position of<span class="pagenum">[81]</span> +elder brother from the first, and had stood +by Archie on occasions when that choice, +but expensive, spirit needed a good deal of +standing by. Archie had inherited other +things from his father besides his perfect +profile, and knew as well as most men which +side his bread was buttered. They were +friends in the ordinary acceptance of that +misused term. John had just returned from +three years' absence at the Russian and +Austrian Courts, and Archie, who had begun +to feel his absence irksome in the extreme, +had welcomed him back with effusion.</p> + +<p>"Come into the Carlton and let us talk +things over," said John.</p> + +<p>In spite of himself, Colonel Tempest +occasionally almost liked John, even while he +kicked against the pricks of a certain respect +which he could not entirely smother for this +grave quiet man of few words. When he +was not for the moment jealous of him—and<span class="pagenum">[82]</span> +there were such moments—he could afford to +indulge a sentiment almost of regret for him. +At times he still hated him with the perfect +hatred of the injurer for the injured; but +nothing to stir that latent superstitious horror, +and consequent detestation of the cause of +the horror, had occurred of late years. They +had walked slowly down Bond Street and +St. James's Street, and had reached the +Carlton. Close by the steps a man was +lounging. Colonel Tempest saw him look +attentively at John as they came up, and the +blood left his heart. It was Swayne.</p> + +<p>In a moment the horror was awake again—wide +awake, hydra-headed, close at hand, +insupportable.</p> + +<p>Swayne stared for a moment full at +Colonel Tempest, and then turned away and +sauntered slowly along Pall Mall.</p> + +<p>"Won't you come in?" said John, as his +companion hesitated.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[83]</span></p> + +<p>"Not to-day. Another time," said Colonel +Tempest, and incoherently making he knew +not what excuse, he left John to join another +man who was entering at that moment, and +hurried after Swayne. He overtook him as +he passed through the gates into St. James's +Park. It was a dull, foggy afternoon, and +there were not many people about.</p> + +<p>Swayne nodded carelessly to him as he +joined him. He evidently did not mind +being overtaken.</p> + +<p>"Well, Colonel," he said, in the half +insolent manner that in men like Swayne +implies a knowledge that they have got the +whip hand. Swayne was not to be outshone +in the art of grovelling by any of his own +species of fellow-worm, but he did not grovel +unnecessarily. His higher nature was that +of a bully.</p> + +<p>"—— you, Swayne, where have you been +all these years?" said Colonel Tempest,<span class="pagenum">[84]</span> +hurriedly. "I've tried to find you over and +over again."</p> + +<p>"I've been busy, Colonel," returned Mr. +Swayne, swaying himself on tight light-checked +legs, and pushing back his grey high +hat. "Business before pleasure. That's my +motto. And I've been mortal sick, too. +Thought I should have gone up this time last +year. I did indeed. You look the worse for +wear too; but I must not be standing talking +here, pleasant as it is to meet old friends."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Swayne," said Colonel Tempest, +in great agitation, laying a spasmodic +clutch on Swayne's arm, "I can't stand it +any longer. I can't indeed. It's wearing +me into my grave. I want you—to cancel +the bet. You must cancel it. I won't bear +it. If you won't cancel it, I won't pay up +when the—if the time comes."</p> + +<p>"Won't you?" said Swayne, with contempt. +"I know better."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[85]</span></p> + +<p>"I must get out of it. It's killing me," +repeated Colonel Tempest, ignoring Swayne's +last remark.</p> + +<p>"Pay up, then," said Swayne. "If you +won't bear it, pay up."</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest was staggered.</p> + +<p>"I have not a thousand pounds I could +lay my hands on," he said hoarsely, "much +less ten. I've been broke these last five +years. You know that."</p> + +<p>"Raise it," said Swayne. "I ain't against +that; quite the reverse. There's been a deal +of time and money wasted already. All the +parties will be glad to have the money down. +He's in England again now, thank the +Lord. That's a saving of expense. I was +waiting to have a look at him myself when +you came up. I've never set eyes on him +before."</p> + +<p>"I can't raise it," said Colonel Tempest +with the despairing remembrance of repeated<span class="pagenum">[86]</span> +failures in that direction. "I can't give +security for five hundred."</p> + +<p>"If you can't pay it, and you can't raise +it," said Swayne, shaking off Colonel Tempest's +hand, and thrusting his own into his +pockets, "what's the good of talking? Sorry +not to part friends, Colonel; but what's done +is done. You can't send back shoes to the +maker that have come to pinch on wearing +'em. You should have thought of that before. +Business is business, and a bet's a bet."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i-ep04.jpg" width="500" height="260" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chapter" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[87]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i-ch05.jpg" width="600" height="192" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Alas! the love of women! It is known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be a lovely and a fearful thing."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14"><span class="smcap">Byron.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/drop_r.jpg" width="80" height="78" alt="R" /> +<span class="hide">R</span>OOMS seldom represent their inmates +faithfully, any more than photographs +their originals, and a poorly-furnished room, +like a bad photograph, is, as a rule, a caricature. +But there are fortunate persons who +can weave for themselves out of apparently +incongruous odds and ends of <i>bric-à-brac</i>, and +china, and cretonne, a habitation which is as +peculiar to them as the moss cocoon is to +the long-tailed tit, or as the spillikins, in +which she coldly cherishes the domestic +affections, are to the water-hen.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[88]</span></p> + +<p>Madeleine Thesinger's little boudoir looking +over Park Lane was as like her as a +translation is to the original. Madeleine was +one of the many young souls who mistake +eccentricity for originality. It was therefore +to be expected that a life-sized china monkey +should be suspended from the ceiling by a +gilt chain, not even holding a lamp as an +excuse for its presence. Her artistic tendencies +required that scarlet pampas grass +should stand in a high yellow jar on the +piano, and that the piano itself should be +festooned with terra-cotta Liberty silk. A +little palm near had its one slender leg draped +in an <i>impromptu</i> Turkish trouser, made out of +an amber handkerchief. Even the flowers +are leaving their garden of Eden now. They +require clothing, just as chrysanthemums +must have their hair curled. We shall put +the lily into corsets next!</p> + +<p>There was a faint scent of incense in the<span class="pagenum">[89]</span> +room. A low couch, covered with striped +Oriental rugs and cushions, was drawn near +the fire. Beside it was a small carved table—everything +was small—with a few devotional +books upon it, an open Bible, and a +hyacinth in water. A frame, on which some +elaborate Church embroidery was stretched, +kept the Bible in countenance. The walls +were draped as only young ladies, defiant of +all laws of taste or common sense, but determined +on originality, can drape them. The +<i>portière</i> alone fell all its length to the ground. +The other curtains were caught up or +tweaked across, or furled like flags against +the walls above chromos and engravings, +over which it was quite unnecessary that +they should ever be lowered. The pictures +themselves were mostly sentimental or religious. +Leighton's "Wedded" hung as a +pendant to "The Light of the World." The +small room was crowded with tiny ornaments<span class="pagenum">[90]</span> +and brittle conceits, and mirrors placed +at convenient angles. There was no room +to put anything down anywhere.</p> + +<p>Sir Henry Verelst, when he was ushered +in, large and stout and expectant, instantly +knocked over a white china mandarin whose +tongue dropped out on the carpet as he +picked it up. He replaced it with awe, +tongue and all, and then, taking refuge on +the hearth-rug, promenaded his pale prawn-like +eyes round the apartment to see where +he could put down his hat. But apparently +there was no vacant place, for he continued +to clutch it in a tightly-gloved hand, and to +stare absently in front of him, sniffing the +unmodulated sniff of solitary nervousness.</p> + +<p>Sir Henry had a vacant face. The only +change of which it was capable was a change +of colour. Under the influence of great +emotion he could become very red, instead +of red, but that was all. He was a stout<span class="pagenum">[91]</span> +man, and his feelings never got as far as +the surface; they probably gave up the +attempt half way. He was feeling a great +deal—for him—at this moment, but his face +was as stolid as a doll's. He had fallen +suddenly and desperately in love, bald head +over red ears in love, with Madeleine, after +his own fashion, since she had shown him +so decidedly that he was dear to her on +that evening a fortnight ago when he had +hovered round her in his usual "fancy free" +and easy manner, merely because she was +the prettiest girl in the room. He now +thought her the most wonderful and beautiful +and religious person in the world. He +had been counting the hours till he should +see her again. He did not know how to +bear being kept waiting in this way; but he +did not turn a hair, possibly because there +were not many to turn. He stood as if he +were stuffed. At last, after a long interval,<span class="pagenum">[92]</span> +there was a step in the passage. He sighed +copiously through his nose, and changed +legs; his dull eyes turned to the <i>portière</i>.</p> + +<p>A French maid entered, who in broken +English explained that mademoiselle could +not see monsieur. Mademoiselle had a +headache. Would monsieur call again at +five o'clock?</p> + +<p>Sir Henry started, and became his reddest, +face, and ears, and neck; but, after a momentary +pause, he merely nodded to the +woman and went out, knocking over the +same china figure from the same table as he +did so, but this time without perceiving it.</p> + +<p>As soon as he was gone, the maid replaced +the piece of china now permanently +tongueless, and then raised her eyes and +hands.</p> + +<p>"Mon Dieu!" she said below her breath, +as she left the room. "Quel fiancé!"</p> + +<p>A few moments later Madeleine came in<span class="pagenum">[93]</span> +her headache appeared to be sufficiently +relieved to allow of her coming down now +that her betrothed had departed. She pulled +down the rose-coloured blinds, and then +flung herself with a little shiver on to the +couch beside the fire. She was very pretty, +very fair, very small, very feminine in dress +and manner. That she was seven and +twenty it would have been impossible to +believe, except by daylight, but for a certain +tinge of laboured youthfulness in her demeanour.</p> + +<p>She put up two of the dearest little hands +to her small curled head, and then held them +to the fire with a gesture of annoyance. +Her eyes—they were pretty appealing eyes, +with delicately-bistred eyelashes—fell upon +her diamond engagement-ring as she did so, +and she turned her left hand from side to +side to make the stones catch the light.</p> + +<p>She was still looking at her ring when the<span class="pagenum">[94]</span> +door opened, and "Miss Tempest" was +announced.</p> + +<p>"Well, Madeleine?" said a fresh clear +voice.</p> + +<p>"<i>Dear</i> Di!" said Madeleine, rising and +throwing herself into her friend's arms. +"How good of you to come, and so early, +too! I have been so longing to see you, +so longing to tell you about everything!" +She drew her visitor down beside her on +the couch, and took possession of her hand.</p> + +<p>"I am very anxious to hear," said Di, +disengaging her hand after a moment, and +pulling off her furred gloves and boa.</p> + +<p>"Let me help you, you dear thing," said +Madeleine, unfastening her friend's coat, in +which action the engagement-ring took a +good deal of exercise. "Is it very cold out? +What a colour you have! I never saw you +looking so well."</p> + +<p>"Really?" said Di, remembering how<span class="pagenum">[95]</span> +Madeleine had made the same remark on +her return last year from fishing in Scotland +with her face burnt brick red. "One does +not generally look one's best after being out +in a wind like a knife; but I am glad you +think so. And now tell me all about <i>it</i>."</p> + +<p>Di's long, rather large, white hand was +taken into both Madeleine's small ones +again, and fondled in silence for a few +moments.</p> + +<p>Di looked at her with an expression half +puzzled, half benevolent, as a Newfoundland +might look at a toy terrier. She was in +reality five or six years younger than Madeleine, +but her height and a certain natural +dignity of carriage and manner gave her the +appearance of being much older—by a rose-coloured +light.</p> + +<p>"It was very sudden," said Madeleine +in a shy whisper, evidently enjoying the +situation.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[96]</span></p> + +<p>"How sudden? Do you mean it was a +sudden idea on his part?"</p> + +<p>"No, you tiresome thing, of course not; +but it came upon <i>me</i> very suddenly."</p> + +<p>"Oh!"</p> + +<p>After all a bite may with truth be called +sudden by the angler who has long and +persistently cast over that and every other +rise within reach.</p> + +<p>"You see," said Madeline, "I had not +seen him for a long time, and somehow his +being so much older and—and everything, +and——"</p> + +<p>Di recalled the outward presentment of +Sir Henry—elderly, gouty, the worse for +town wear.</p> + +<p>"I see," she said gravely.</p> + +<p>There was a pause.</p> + +<p>"I knew you would feel with me about +it," said Madeleine, affectionately. "I always +think you are so sympathetic."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[97]</span></p> + +<p>"But you <i>did</i> think it over—it did occur +to you before he asked you?" said the +sympathizer in rather a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes! The night before I thought +of it."</p> + +<p>"The night before?" echoed Di.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that last evening at Narbury. I +don't know how it was; there were some +much prettier girls there than me, but I was +quite monopolized by the men—Lord Algy +and Captain Graham in particular; it was +really most embarrassing. I have such a +dislike to being made conspicuous. One on +each side of the piano, you know; and, as +I told them, they ought not to leave the +other girls in the way they were doing. +There were two girls who had no one to +speak to all the evening. I begged them +to go and talk to them, but they would not +listen; and Sir Henry stood about near, and +would insist on turning over, and somehow<span class="pagenum">[98]</span> +suddenly I thought he meant something, +but I never thought it would be so quick. +Men are so strange. I sometimes think they +look at things <i>quite</i> differently from a woman. +It's such a solemn thought to me that we have +got to influence them, and draw them up."</p> + +<p>"Or draw them on," said Di gravely—"one +or the other, or both at the same time. +Yes, it's very solemn. When did you say +Sir Henry became sudden?"</p> + +<p>"Next morning—the very next morning, +after breakfast, in the orchid-house. I just +wandered in there to read my letters. It +took me entirely by surprise. It is such a +comfort to talk to you, dear Di. I know +you do enter into it all so."</p> + +<p>"Not into the orchid-house," said Di, +looking straight in front of her.</p> + +<p>"You naughty thing!" said Madeleine, +delightedly. "I shall shake you if you tease +like that."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[99]</span></p> + +<p>To threaten to shake any one was Madeleine's +sheet-anchor in the form of repartee. +Di knit her white brows.</p> + +<p>"And though the idea had never so much +as crossed your mind till a few hours before, +still you accepted him?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No," said Madeleine, withdrawing her +hand with dignity; "of course I did not. +I don't know what other girls feel about it, +but with me there is something too solemn, +too sacred, in an engagement of that kind +to rush into it all in a moment. I told him +so, and that I must think it over, and that +I could not answer him anything at once."</p> + +<p>"And how long did you think it over?"</p> + +<p>"All that morning. I stayed by myself +in my own room. I did not go out, though +the others all went to a steeplechase on +Lord Algy's drag, and I had a new gown +on purpose. I suppose most girls would +have gone, but I felt I could not. I can't<span class="pagenum">[100]</span> +take things lightly like some people. I dare +say it is a mistake, but I always have felt +anything of that kind very deeply."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he did not go either?"</p> + +<p>"N—no, he didn't."</p> + +<p>"That would have been awkward if you +had not intended to accept him."</p> + +<p>Madeleine looked into the fire.</p> + +<p>"It was a very painful time," she went on, +after a pause. "And it was so embarrassing +at luncheon—only him and me, and that old +General Hanbury. Every one else had +gone."</p> + +<p>"Even your mother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; she was the chaperone of the +party, as Mrs. Mildmay had a headache. +But I did not want her to stay. She did +not know till it was all settled. I could not +have talked about it to her; mamma and I +feel so differently. You know she always +remembers how much she cared for poor<span class="pagenum">[101]</span> +papa. I was dreadfully perplexed what I +ought to do, but"—in a lowered voice—"I +took it where I take all my troubles, Di. +I prayed over it; I laid it all before——"</p> + +<p>Madeleine stopped short as Di suddenly +hid her face in her hands. The white nape +of her neck was crimson.</p> + +<p>"And then?" she asked, after a moment's +silence, with her face still hidden.</p> + +<p>"Then it all seemed to become clear," +murmured Madeleine, gratified by Di's +evident envy. "And I saw it was <i>meant</i>. +You know, Di, I believe those things are +decided for one. And I felt quite peaceful, +and I went out for a little bit in the garden, +and the sun was setting—I always care so +much for sunsets, they mean so much to +me, and it was all so beautiful and calm; +and—I suppose he had seen me go out—and——"</p> + +<p>Di uttered a sound between a laugh and<span class="pagenum">[102]</span> +a sob, which resulted in something like a +croak. Her fair face was red with—<i>was</i> it +envy?—as she raised her head. Two large +tears stood in her indignant wistful eyes. +She looked hard at Madeleine, and the latter +avoided her direct glance.</p> + +<p>"Madeleine," she said, "do you care for +this man?"</p> + +<p>Madeleine gave a little pout which would +have appealed to a masculine heart, but +which had no effect on Di.</p> + +<p>"I was very much surprised when you +wrote to tell me," continued Di, rather +hurriedly. "I never should have thought—when +I remember what he is—I can't believe +that you can really care about him."</p> + +<p>"I have a great influence over him—an +influence for good," said Madeleine. "He +would promise anything I asked; he has +already about smoking. I know he has not +<span class="pagenum">[103]</span>been always—— But you know a woman's +influence. I always mention him in my +prayers, Di."</p> + +<p>Madeleine had been long in the habit of +presenting the names of her most eligible +acquaintances of the opposite sex to the +favourable consideration of the Almighty, +without whose co-operation she was aware +that nothing matrimonially advantageous +could be effected, and in whose powers as a +chaperon she placed more confidence than +in the feeble finite efforts of a kind but +unworldly mother. She had never so far +felt impelled to draw His attention to the +spiritual needs of younger sons.</p> + +<p>"Every woman has an enormous influence +for the time over a man who is in love with +her," said Di, who seemed to have frozen +perceptibly. "It is nothing peculiar. It is +one of the common stock feelings on such +occasions. The question is, Do you really +care for him?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[104]</span></p> + +<p>Madeleine shivered a little, and then suddenly +burst into uncontrollable weeping. Di +was touched to the quick. Loss of self-control +sometimes moves reserved people +profoundly. They know that only an overwhelming +onslaught of emotion would be +able to wrest their own self-control from +them; and when they witness the loss of it +in another, they think that it must have been +caused by the same amount of suffering.</p> + +<p>"I think you are very unkind, Di," Madeleine +said, between her sobs. "And I always +thought you would be the one to sympathize +with me when I was engaged. And I have +chosen the bridesmaids' gowns on purpose to +suit you, though I know Sir Henry's niece, +that little fat Dalrymple with her waist under +her arms, will look simply hideous in it. And +I wrote to you the <i>very</i> first! I think you +are very unkind!"</p> + +<p>"Am I?" said Di, gently, as if she were<span class="pagenum">[105]</span> +speaking to a child; and she knelt down by +the little sobbing figure and put her arms +round her. "Never mind about the bridesmaids' +gowns, dear. It was very nice of +you to think how they would suit me. +Never mind about anything but just this +one thing: Do you think you will be happy +if you marry Sir Henry Verelst?"</p> + +<p>"Others do it," sobbed Madeleine. "Look +at Maud Lister, and she hated Lord Lentham—and +he was such a dreadful little man, +with a mole, worse than—— But she got +not to mind. And I've been out nine years. +You are only twenty-one, Di. It's all very +well for you to talk like that; I felt just the +same when I was your age. But I shall be +twenty-eight this year; and you don't know +what it feels like to be getting on, and one's +fringe not what it was; and always having +to pretend to be glad when one is bridesmaid +to girls younger than one's self, and<span class="pagenum">[106]</span> +seeing other girls have <i>trousseaux</i>, and thinking, +perhaps, one will never have one at all. +I don't know how I could bear to live if I +was thirty and was not married!"</p> + +<p>Di was silent for a moment from sheer +astonishment at a real declaration of feeling +from one who felt, and lived, and talked, and +dressed according to a social code fixed as +the laws of the Medes and Persians.</p> + +<p>Her low voice had a certain tremor of +repressed emotion in it as she said: "But +think of Sir Henry. The bridegroom is part +of the wedding, after all; think of what he +is. What can you care for in him? Nothing. +I don't see how you could. And he +is twice your age. Be a brave girl, and +break it off."</p> + +<p>Di felt as she said the last words that the +courage of being able to break off the +engagement was as nothing to that of continuing +to keep it. She did not realize that<span class="pagenum">[107]</span> +an entire lack of imagination wears, under +certain circumstances, the appearance of the +most stoical fortitude.</p> + +<p>The brave girl sobbed again, and pressed +a little frilled square of cambric to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"No," she gasped; "I can't—I can't! It +has been in all the papers. Half my things +are ordered; I have asked the bridesmaids. +I can't go back now. It is wicked to break +off an engagement. God would be very +angry with me."</p> + +<p>It is difficult to argue with any one who +can make a Jorkins of the Almighty. Every +word Madeleine spoke showed her friend +how unavailing any further remonstrance +would be. Di saw that she had gone through +that common phase of imagination which +a shallow nature feels to be prophetic. +Madeleine had, in what stood proxy for her +imagination, already regarded herself as a +bride, as the recipient, not of diamonds in<span class="pagenum">[108]</span> +general, but of the Verelst diamonds in particular. +Already in maiden meditation she +had seen herself arrive at certain houses on +bridal visits—had contemplated herself opening +a county hunt ball as the bride of the +year—until she looked upon the wedding as +a settled event, the husband as a necessary +adjunct, the <i>trousseaux</i> as a certainty.</p> + +<p>"And you must see my under-things when +they come, because we have always been +such friends," continued Madeleine, as Di remained +silent. She dried her eyes with little +dabs, for even in emotion she remembered +the danger of wiping them, while she favoured +Di with minute details respecting those complete +sets of under-clothing which so mysteriously +enhance and dignify the holy estate +of matrimony in the feminine mind. But Di +was not listening. The image of Sir Henry, +who had besought herself to marry him a +year ago, reverted to her mind with a remembrance<span class="pagenum">[109]</span> +of her own repulsion towards the +Moloch to which Madeleine was preparing +to offer herself up.</p> + +<p>"Madeleine," she said suddenly, "I am +sure from what I have seen that marriage is +too difficult if you don't care for your husband. +The married people who did not +marry for love tell one so by their faces. I +am sure there are some hard times to be +lived through even when you care very much. +Nothing but a great love, granny says, will +float one over some of the rocks ahead. But +to marry without love is like undertaking to +sew without a needle, or dig without a spade—attempting +difficult work without the tool +provided for it. Oh, Madeleine, don't do it! +Break it off—break it off!"</p> + +<p>Madeleine clung closer to the girl kneeling +beside her. It almost seemed as if the +urgent eager voice were not speaking in +vain.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[110]</span></p> + +<p>A tap came at the door.</p> + +<p>Di, always shy of betraying emotion, was +on her feet in a moment. Madeleine drew +the screen hastily between herself and the +light as she said, "Come in."</p> + +<p>It was the French maid, who explained +that the dressmaker had sent the two rolls +of brocade as she had promised, so that +mademoiselle might judge of them in the +piece. She brought them in with her, and +spread them in artistic folds on two chairs.</p> + +<p>Madeleine sat up and gave a little sigh.</p> + +<p>"If she gives them up, she will give him +up, too," thought Di. "This is the turning-point."</p> + +<p>"Di," she said earnestly, "which would +you advise, the mauve or the white and +gold? I always think you have such taste."</p> + +<p>Di started and turned a shade pale. She +saw by that one sentence that the die had +been thrown, though Madeleine was not<span class="pagenum">[111]</span> +herself aware of it. The moments of our +most important decisions are often precisely +those in which nothing seems to have been +decided; and only long afterwards, when we +perceive with astonishment that the Rubicon +has been crossed, do we realize that in that +half-forgotten instant of hesitation as to some +apparently unimportant side issue, in that +unconscious movement that betrayed a feeling +of which we were not aware, our choice was +made. The crises of life come, like the +Kingdom of Heaven, without observation. +Our characters, and not our deliberate actions, +decide for us; and even when the moment +of crisis is apprehended at the time by the +troubling of the water, action is generally a +little late. Character, as a rule, steps down +first. It was so with Madeleine.</p> + +<p>Sir Henry owed his bride to the exactly +timed appearance of a mauve brocade +sprinkled with silver <i>fleur-de-lys</i>. The maid<span class="pagenum">[112]</span> +turned it lightly, and the silver threads +gleamed through the rich pale material.</p> + +<p>"It is perfect," said Madeleine in a hushed +voice; "absolutely perfect. Don't you think +so, Di? And she says she will do it for +forty guineas, as she is making me other +things. The front is to be a silver gauze +over plain mauve satin to match, and the +train of the brocade. The white and gold +is nothing to it."</p> + +<p>"It is very beautiful," said Di, looking at +it with a kind of horror. It seemed to her +at the moment as if every one had their +price.</p> + +<p>Madeleine smiled faintly. She felt that +Di must envy her. It was of course only +natural that she should do so. A thought +strayed across her mind that in the future +many gowns of this description, hitherto unobtainable +and unsuitable, might sweeten +existence; and she would be kind to Di.<span class="pagenum">[113]</span> +She would press an old one, before it was +really old, on her occasionally.</p> + +<p>Madeleine gave the sigh that accompanies +relaxation from intense mental strain.</p> + +<p>"I will decide on the mauve," she said.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i-ep05.jpg" width="500" height="260" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chapter" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[114]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i-ch06.jpg" width="600" height="195" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ready money of affection<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pay, whoever drew the bill."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><span class="smcap">Clough.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="quote">"</p> + +<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/drop_p.jpg" width="80" height="79" alt="P" /> +<span class="hide">P</span>UT not your trust in brothers," said +Di, coming in from a balcony after +the departure of the bride and bridegroom, +and looking round the crowded drawing-room, +where the fictitious gaiety of a wedding +was more or less dismally stamped +on every face. "I do believe Archie has +deserted me."</p> + +<p>"I know he has," said her companion. +"He told me half an hour ago that he was +going to bolt."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[115]</span></p> + +<p>"Did he? The deceiver! He gave me +a solemn promise that he would see me +home. I believe young men are the root of +all evil. Don't pin your faith to them, Lord +Hemsworth, or you will live to rue it, like +me."</p> + +<p>"I won't."</p> + +<p>"And why, pray, did not you mention +the fact that he was going when I was +laboriously explaining all the presents to +you, and exhausting myself in pointing out +watches in bracelets or concealed in the +handles of umbrellas, which you were quite +unable to see for yourself? One good turn +deserves another. Ah! now the people are +really beginning to go. Is not that Lady +Breakwater in the inner drawing-room? +Poor woman—I mean, happy mother! I +will try and get near her to say good-bye. +Look at her smiling; I think I should know +a wedding smile anywhere."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[116]</span></p> + +<p>"No, you need not see me home," she +added a few minutes later, as she stood in +the hall. "Have I not a hired brougham? +One throws expense to the winds on an +occasion of this kind. There comes your +hansom behind it. What a lovely chestnut! +How I do envy you it! The blessings of +this world are very unevenly distributed. +Good-bye."</p> + +<p>"I am going to see you home," said Lord +Hemsworth, with decision. "It is the duty +of the best man to make himself generally +useful to the chief bridesmaid. I've read it +in my little etiquette book; and, however +painful my duty may be made to me, I shall +perform it."</p> + +<p>"You have performed it thoroughly +already. No, you are not coming in. +Don't shut the door on my gown, please. +Thanks. Home, coachman."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to the Speaker's to-night?"<span class="pagenum">[117]</span> +said Lord Hemsworth, with his +arms on the carriage-door, perfectly regardless +of the string of carriages behind +him.</p> + +<p>"I am."</p> + +<p>"Good luck; so am I."</p> + +<p>"That's not in the etiquette book," said +Di, with mischief in her eyes. "In the +meantime you are stopping the whole procession. +We have shaken hands once +already. Good-bye again."</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Mrs. Courtenay was sitting in her armchair +with her back to the light in the long +sunny drawing-room of her little house in +Kensington, waiting for the return of her +granddaughter from the wedding to which +at the last moment she had been unable +to escort her herself. Her headache was +better now, and she had taken up her work, +the fine elaborate lace work in imitation of<span class="pagenum">[118]</span> +an old design which she had copied in some +Italian church.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Courtenay had been one of the four +beautiful Miss Digbys of Ebberstone about +whom society had gone wild fifty years ago; +and in her old age she was beautiful still, +with the dignified and gracious manner of +one who has been worshipped in her day. +Her calm keen face bore the marks of much +suffering, but of suffering that had been +outlived. Perhaps next to the death of her +husband, who had left her in her early youth +to struggle with life alone, the blow which +she had felt most keenly had been the clandestine +and most miserable marriage of her +only daughter with Colonel Tempest; but it +was all past now. People while they are +undergoing the strain of the ordinary +ills that flesh is heir to, the bitterness +of inadequately returned love, the loss or +alienation of children, the grind of poverty<span class="pagenum">[119]</span> +or the hydra-headed wants of insufficient +wealth, are not as a rule pleasant or sympathetic +companions. The lessons of life are +coming too quickly upon them to allow of it. +They are preoccupied. But <i>tout passe</i>. Mrs. +Courtenay had loved and had suffered, and +had presented a brave front to the world, +and had known wealth, as she now knew +poverty. The pain was past; the experience +remained; therein lay the secret of her +power and her popularity, for she had both. +She seemed to have reached a little quiet +backwater in the river of life where the +pressure of the current could no longer reach +her, would never reach her again. She sometimes +said that nothing could affect her very +deeply now, except, perhaps, what affected +her granddaughter. But that was a large +exception. Mrs. Courtenay loved her +granddaughter with some of the stern tender +affection which she had once lavished on her<span class="pagenum">[120]</span> +own daughter—which she had buried in her +grave. The elder Diana had taken two +hearts down to the grave with her—her +mother's and Mr. Tempest's.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Courtenay had that rarest gift—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A heart at leisure from itself<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To soothe and sympathize."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>To that little house in Kensington many +came, long before her beautiful granddaughter +was of an age to be its principal +attraction, as she had now become. Mrs. +Courtenay's house had gained the magic +name of being agreeable, possibly because +she made it so to one and all alike. None +but the pushing and the dictatorial were +ever overlooked. Country relations with +the loud voices and the abusive political +views peculiar to rural life were her worst +bugbears, but even they had a pleasing suspicion +that they had distinguished themselves +in conversation, and departed with<span class="pagenum">[121]</span> +the gratified feeling akin to that depicted on +a plain woman's face when she has come +out well in a photograph.</p> + +<p>In talking with the young Mrs. Courtenay +remembered her own far-away youth, its +romantic passions, its watchful nights, its +splendour of sunrise illusions. She remembered, +too, its great ignorance, and was not, +like so many elders, exasperated with the +young for having omitted to learn, before +they came into the world, what they themselves +only learned by living half a century +in it.</p> + +<p>She had sympathy with old and young +alike, but perhaps she felt most deeply for +those who were struggling in the meshes +of middle age, no longer interesting to others +or even to themselves. Many came to Mrs. +Courtenay for comfort and sympathy in the +servitude with hard labour of middle age, +and none came in vain.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[122]</span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Courtenay lifted her calm clear eyes +to the Louis Quatorze clock on the old +Venetian cabinet near her.</p> + +<p>"Di is late," she said half aloud.</p> + +<p>The low sun was thinking better of it, +and was shining in through the tracery of +the bare branches of the trees outside. If +there was ever a ray of sunshine anywhere, +it was in that little Kensington drawing-room. +The sun never forgot to seek it out, +to come and have a look at the little possessions +which in spite of her narrow means +Mrs. Courtenay had gradually gathered +round her. It came now, and touched the +white <i>Capo di Monte</i> figures on the mantelpiece, +and brought into momentary prominence +the inlaid ivory dolphins on the ebony +cabinet; those dolphins with curly tails +which two Dianas had loved at the age +when permission to drive dolphins and sit +on waves was not a final impossibility<span class="pagenum">[123]</span> +though denied for the moment. It lighted +up the groups of Lowestoft china, and the +tall Oriental jars which Mrs. Courtenay +suffered no one to dust but herself. The +little bits of old silver and enamel on the +black polished table caught the light. So +did the daffodils in the green Vallauris +tripod. They blazed against the shadowed +pictured wall. The quiet room was full of +light.</p> + +<p>Presently a carriage stopped at the door, +the bell rang, and a moment later a swift +light step mounted the stair, and Di came +in, tall and radiant in her flowing white and +yellow draperies, her bouquet of mimosa in +her hand.</p> + +<p>She was beautiful, with the beauty that +is recognized at once. Beauty is so rare +nowadays and prettiness so common, that +the terms are often confused and misapplied, +and the most ordinary good looks usurp<span class="pagenum">[124]</span> +the name of beauty. But between prettiness +and beauty there is nevertheless a +great gulf fixed. No one had ever called +Di a pretty girl. At one and twenty she +was a beautiful woman, with that nameless +air of distinction which can ennoble the +plainest face and figure.</p> + +<p>She had a right to beauty from both +parents, and resembled both of them to a +certain degree. She had the tall splendid +figure of the Tempests with their fair skin +and pale golden hair, waving back thick and +burnished from her low white forehead. +But she had her mother's dark unfathomable +eyes with the long dark eyelashes, and her +mother's features with their inherent nobility +and strength, which were so entirely lacking +in the Tempests—at least, in the present +generation of them. Some people, women +mostly, said there was too much contrast between +her dark eyes and eyebrows and the<span class="pagenum">[125]</span> +extreme fairness of her complexion and hair. +Men, however, did not think so. They saw +that she was beautiful, and that was enough. +Indeed, it was too much for some of them. +Women said, also, that her features were too +large, that she was on too large a scale +altogether. No doubt that accounted for +the fact that she was seldom overlooked.</p> + +<p>"Well, Granny, and how is the headache?" +she asked gaily, pulling off her long +gloves and instantly beginning to unwire the +mimosa in her bouquet with rapid, capable +white hands.</p> + +<p>"Oh! the headache is gone," said Mrs. +Courtenay, watching her granddaughter. +"And how did it all go off?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly," said Di, in her clear gay +voice. "Madeleine looked beautiful, and +often as I have been bridesmaid I never +stood behind a bride with a better fitting +back. I suppose the survival of the best<span class="pagenum">[126]</span> +fitted is what we are coming to in these +days. Anyhow, Madeleine attained to it. +It was a well done thing altogether. The +altar one mass of white peonies! White +peonies at Easter! Sir Henry was the only +red one there. And eight of us all youth +and innocence in white and amber to bear +her company. We bridesmaids were all +waiting for her for some time before she +arrived or he either; but Lord Hemsworth +marched him in at last, just when I was +beginning to hope he would not turn up. I +have seen him look worse, Granny. He did +not look so very bald until he knelt down, +and I have known his nose redder. To a +friend I dare say it only looked like a +blush that had lost its way. He is a stout +man to outline himself in a white waistcoat, +but I thought on the whole he looked +well."</p> + +<p>"Di," said Mrs. Courtenay, with her little<span class="pagenum">[127]</span> +inward laugh, "you should not say such +things."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I can say anything I like to +you," said Di. "Dear me, I am sitting on +my new amber sash! What extravagance! +It will be long enough before I have another. +It was really good of Lady Breakwater to +give me the whole turn-out. We never +could have afforded it."</p> + +<p>"Did Madeleine look unhappy?"</p> + +<p>"No; she was pale, but perfectly collected, +and she walked quite firmly to the +chancel steps where the security for fifteen +thousand a year and two diamond tiaras and +a pendant was awaiting her. The security +looked a little nervous."</p> + +<p>"Di," said Mrs. Courtenay, with an effort +after severity, "never again let me hear you +laugh at the man who once did you the +honour to ask you to marry him. You +show great want of feeling."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[128]</span></p> + +<p>Di's face changed. It became several +degrees sterner than her grandmother's. +That peculiar concentrated light came into +her soft lovely eyes which is a life-long +puzzle to those who can see only one aspect +of a character, and whose ideas are consequently +thrown into the wildest confusion by +a change of expression. There was at times +an appearance of intensity of feeling about +Di which sometimes gleamed up into her +eyes and gave a certain tremor to her low +voice, that surprised and almost frightened +those who regarded her only as a charming +but somewhat eccentric woman. Di's best +friends said they did not understand her. +The little foot-rule by which they measured +others did not seem to apply to her. She +was grave or gay, cynical or tender, frivolous +or sympathetic, according to the mood +of the hour, or according as her quick intuition +and sense of mischief showed her the<span class="pagenum">[129]</span> +exact opposite was expected of her. But +behind the various moods which naturally +high spirits led her into for the moment, +keener eyes could see that there was always +something kept back—something not suffered +to be discussed and commented on by the +crowd—namely, herself. Her frank, cordial +manner might deceive the many, but others +who knew her better were conscious of a +great reserve—of a barrier beyond which +they might not pass; of locked rooms in +that sunny, hospitable house into which no +one was invited, into which she had, perhaps, +as yet rarely penetrated herself.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Courtenay possibly understood her +better than any one, but Di took her by +surprise now. She laid down her flowers +and came and stood before her grandmother.</p> + +<p>"Do I show want of feeling?" she said, +in her low, even voice. "I know I have +none for that man; but why should I have<span class="pagenum">[130]</span> +any? If he wanted to marry me, why did +he want it? He knew I did not like him—I +made that sufficiently plain. Did he care +one single straw for anything about me +except my looks? If he had liked me ever +so little, it would have been different; but +why am I to be grateful because he wanted +me to sit at the head of his table, and wear +his diamonds?"</p> + +<p>"You talk as young and silly girls with +romantic ideas do talk," replied Mrs. Courtenay, +piqued into making assertions exactly +contrary to her real opinions. "I fancied +you had more sense! Madeleine did a wise +thing in accepting him. She has made a +very prudent marriage."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Di, moving slowly away and +sitting down by the window—"that is just +it. I wonder if there is anything in the +whole wide world so recklessly imprudent as +a prudent marriage? But what am I talking<span class="pagenum">[131]</span> +about?" she added, lightly. "It is not a +marriage; it is merely a social contract. I +can't see why they went to church myself, or +what the peonies and that nice little newly-ironed +Bishop were for. They were quite +unnecessary. A register-office and a clerk +would have done just as well, and have been +more in keeping. But how silly it is of me +to be wasting my time in holding forth when +your cap is not even trimmed for this evening. +The price of a virtuous woman is above +rubies nowadays. Nothing but diamonds +and settlements will secure a first-rate article. +And now, to come back to more serious subjects, +will you wear your diamond stars, G"—("G" +was the irreverent pet name by +which Di sometimes called her grandmother)—"or +shall I fasten that little marabou +feather with your pearl clasp into the point-lace +cap? It wants something at the side."</p> + +<p>"I think I will wear the diamonds," said<span class="pagenum">[132]</span> +Mrs. Courtenay, thoughtfully. "People are +beginning to wear their jewels again now. +Only sew them in firmly, Di."</p> + +<p>"You should have seen the array of +jewellery to-day," said Di, still in the same +tone, arranging the mimosa in clusters about +the room. "Other people's diamonds seem +to take all the starch out of me. A kind of +limpness comes over me when I look at +tiaras. And there was such a <i>rivière</i> and +pendant! And a little hansom cab and +horse in diamonds as a brooch. I should +like to be tempted by a brooch like that. +Sir Henry has his good points, after all. I +see it now that it is too late. And why do +people sprinkle themselves all over with +watches nowadays, Granny, in unexpected +places? Lord Hemsworth counted five—was +it, or six?—set in different presents. +There were two, I think, in bracelets, one in +a fan, and one in the handle of an umbrella.<span class="pagenum">[133]</span> +What can be the use of a watch in the +handle of an umbrella? Then there was a +very little one in—what was it?—a paper-knife, +set round with large diamonds. It +made me feel quite unwell to look at it when +I thought how what had been spent on that +silly thing would have dressed you and me, +Granny, for a year. That reminds me—I +shall tear off this amber sash and put it on +my white <i>miroitant</i> dinner-gown. You must +not give me any more white gowns; they +are done for directly."</p> + +<p>"I like to see you in white."</p> + +<p>"Oh! so do I—just as much as I like to +see you, Granny, in brocade; but it can't be +done. I won't have you spending so much +on me. If I am a pauper, I don't mind +looking like one."</p> + +<p>She looked very unlike one as she gathered +up her gloves and lace handkerchief and +bouquet holder, and left the room. And yet<span class="pagenum">[134]</span> +they were very poor. No one knew on how +small a number of hundreds that little home +was kept together, how narrow was the +margin which allowed of those occasional +little dinner-parties of eight to which people +were so glad to come. Who was likely to +divine that the two black satin chairs had +been covered by Di's strong hands—that the +pale Oriental coverings on the settees and +sofas that harmonized so well with the subdued +colouring of the room were the result of +her powers of upholstery—that it was Di who +mounted boldly on high steps and painted +her own room and her grandmother's an +elegant pink distemper, inciting the servants +to go and do likewise for themselves?</p> + +<p>It was easy to see they were poor, but it +was generally supposed that they had the +species of limited means which wealth is +so often kind enough to envy, with its old +formula that the truly rich are those who<span class="pagenum">[135]</span> +have nothing to keep up. This is true if +the narrow means have not caused the wants +to become so circumscribed that nothing +further remains that can <i>be put down</i>. The +rich, one would imagine, are those who, +whatever their income may be, have it in +their power to put down an unnecessary +expense. But probably all expenses are +essentially necessary to the wealthy.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Courtenay and her granddaughter +lived very quietly, and went without effort, +and, indeed, as a matter of course, into that +society which is labelled, whether rightly or +wrongly, as "good."</p> + +<p>Persons of narrow means too often slip +out of the class to which they naturally +belong, because they can give nothing in +return for what they receive. They may +have a thousand virtues, and be far superior +in their domestic relations to those who +forget them, but they <i>are</i> forgotten, all the<span class="pagenum">[136]</span> +same. Society is rigorous, and gives nothing +for nothing.</p> + +<p>But others there are whose poverty makes +no difference to them, who are welcomed +with cordiality, and have reserved seats +everywhere because, though they cannot pay +in kind, they have other means at their +disposal. Their very presence is an overpayment. +Every one who goes into society +must, in some form or other, as Mrs. Lynn +Linton expresses it, "pay their shot." All +the doors were open to Mrs. Courtenay and +her granddaughter, not because they were +handsomer than other people, not because +they belonged by birth to "good" society, +and were only to be seen at the "best" +houses, but because, wherever they went, +they were felt to be an acquisition, and one +not invariably to be obtained.</p> + +<p>Madeleine had been glad to book Di at +once as one of her bridesmaids. Indeed, she +had long professed a great affection for the<span class="pagenum">[137]</span> +younger girl, with whom she had nothing +in common, but whose beauty rendered it +probable that she might eventually make a +brilliant match.</p> + +<p>As the bridesmaid sat down rather wearily +in her own room, and unfastened the diamond +monogram brooch—"the gift of the bridegroom"—the +tears that had been in her +heart all day came into her eyes; Di's slow, +difficult tears.</p> + +<p>What a mass of illusions are torn from us +by the first applauded mercenary marriage +that comes very near to us in our youth! +Death, when he draws nigh for the first +time, at least leaves us our illusions; but +this voluntary death in life, from which there +is no resurrection, filled Di's soul with +loathing compassion. She bowed her fair +head on her hands and wept over the girl +who had never been her friend, but whose +fate might at one time have been her own.</p> + +<hr class="chapter" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[138]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i-ch07.jpg" width="600" height="195" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Broad his shoulders are and strong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his eye is scornful,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Threatening and young."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><span class="smcap">Emerson.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/drop_t.jpg" width="80" height="81" alt="T" /> +<span class="hide">R</span>HERE was the usual crush at the +Speaker's, the usual sprinkling of +stars and orders, and splendid uniforms. If +it made Di feel limp to look at other people's +diamonds, she would be very limp to-night.</p> + +<p>Two men with their backs to the wall, +somewhat withdrawn from the moving pressure +of the crowd, were commenting in the +absolute privacy of a large gathering on the +stream of arrivals.</p> + +<p>"Who is that old parchment face and the<span class="pagenum">[139]</span> +eyeglass?" asked the younger man, whose +bleached eyes and moustache betokened +foreign service.</p> + +<p>"Which?"</p> + +<p>"Coming in now; looks as if he had seen +a thing or two. There—he is talking to one +of the Arden twins."</p> + +<p>"That man? That is Lord Frederick +Fane, an old reprobate. See, he has buttonholed +Hemsworth. I should like to hear +what he is saying to him. Look how his +eye twinkles. He is one of our instructors +of youth."</p> + +<p>"Hemsworth has been standing there for +the last half-hour."</p> + +<p>"He is waiting; anybody can see that. +So am I, though not for the same person."</p> + +<p>"Whom are you looking out for?"</p> + +<p>"Do you see that dark man with the +high nose, talking to the Post Office? +There—the Duchess of Southark has just<span class="pagenum">[140]</span> +spoken to him, and is introducing her +daughter."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that ugly beggar with the +clean-shaved face and heavy jaw?"</p> + +<p>"I don't see that he is so ugly. He has +got a head on his shoulders, and his face +means something, which is more than you +can say of many. There is no lack of ability +there. He is one of the men of the future, +and people are beginning to find it out. He +has not taken any line in politics yet, but he +is bound to soon. Both sides want him, of +course. He is one of our most promising +Commoners, Tempest of Overleigh."</p> + +<p>The younger man glanced at the square-shouldered +erect figure and strong dark face +with deep interest.</p> + +<p>"Is he the man about whom there was +a lawsuit when his father died?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; Colonel Tempest brought an action, +but he lost it. There was no evidence<span class="pagenum">[141]</span> +forthcoming, though there was very little +doubt how matters really stood."</p> + +<p>"He is not like the Tempests."</p> + +<p>"No; if you want a Tempest pure and +simple, look at the man with tow-coloured +hair in the further doorway, making running +with the little soda-water heiress. That is +the regular Tempest style."</p> + +<p>"He is too beautiful; he has overdone +it," said the other. "If he were less handsome, +he would be better looking, and his +hair looks like a wig. He has the face of +a fool on him."</p> + +<p>"The last two generations have had no grit +in them. Jack Tempest, the last man, might +have done something, but he never came to +the fore. He was a trustworthy Conservative, +but not an energetic man like his father, the +old minister, who lies in Westminster Abbey."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps the present man will come to +the fore."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[142]</span></p> + +<p>"Perhaps! I know he will; you can see +it in his face, and he has the <i>prestige</i> of his +name and wealth to back him. But I don't +know which side he will take. I know that +he voted right at the last election, but so did +half the Liberals. I incline to think he has +Liberal leanings, but he refused to stand +three years ago for the family constituency, +which is an absolute certainty whatever he +professes himself, and he has been secretary +to the Embassy at St. Petersburg for the +last three years."</p> + +<p>"He is very like his mother's family, +except that the Fanes are not so ugly."</p> + +<p>"Of course he is like his mother's family; +it's an open secret. Look at him now; he +is speaking to Lord Frederick Fane, his +mother's—first cousin. There's a family +resemblance for you! I wonder they stand +together."</p> + +<p>His companion drew in his breath. The<span class="pagenum">[143]</span> +likeness between the elder man and the +young one was unmistakable.</p> + +<p>"Does he know, do you think?" he asked +after a moment.</p> + +<p>"Of course he must know that there is a +'but' about himself. People don't grow up +in ignorance of such things; but I should +think he does <i>not</i> know that it is more than +a suspicion, that it is a moral certainty, and +that Lord Frederick—— But it is seven +and twenty years ago, and it is half forgotten +now. He is not the only heir with a doubt +about him. He will be a credit to the +Tempests, anyhow. If the property had +fallen into the hands of those two thieves, +Colonel Tempest and his son, there would +not have been much left of it for the next +generation."</p> + +<p>"It's frightfully hot!" said the younger +man. "I shall bolt."</p> + +<p>"Just home from Africa, and find it hot!"<span class="pagenum">[144]</span> +said the other. "Ah!"—with sudden interest, +looking back to the doorway—"I +thought so. Hemsworth was not waiting +for nothing. By —— she <i>is</i> handsome, and +what a figure! She is the tallest woman in +the room except Lady Delmour's two yards +of unmarriageable maypole. Look how she +moves, and the way her head is set on her +shoulders. If I had not a wife and seven +children, I should make a fool of myself. I +remember her mother, just as handsome +twenty years ago, but not so brilliant, and +with an unhappy look about her. Hang +Tempest! I won't wait any longer for him. +I must go and speak to her before Hemsworth +takes possession of her."</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>"You take my advice, John," said Lord +Frederick Fane confidentially to his kinsman; +"don't tie yourself to a party any more +than you would to a woman. Leave that for<span class="pagenum">[145]</span> +fools like Hemsworth. Just go your own +way, and give no one a claim on you."</p> + +<p>"I intend to go my own way when I have +decided where I want to go."</p> + +<p>"Well, in the meanwhile don't commit +yourself. Always leave yourself a loop-hole."</p> + +<p>"I don't see the use of worrying about +loop-holes if I don't want to back out of anything. +I shall never consciously put myself +anywhere where it might be necessary to +wriggle out on all fours."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I dare say. I thought all that in +my salad days, but you'll grow out of it as +you get older. You'll chip your shell, John, +like the rest of us, he! he! and not be above +a shift. There's not a man who won't stoop +to a shift on a pinch, provided the pinch is +sharp enough, any more than there is a +woman, bespoken or otherwise, who does +not like being made love to, provided it<span class="pagenum">[146]</span> +is done the right way. That is my experience."</p> + +<p>Lord Frederick's experience was that of +most men of his stamp, the crown of whose +maturer years, earned by a youth of strenuous +self-indulgence, is a disbelief in human +nature. Secret contempt of women, coupled +with a smooth and adulatory manner towards +them, show only too plainly the school in +which these opinions have been formed.</p> + +<p>"Look at Hemsworth," continued Lord +Frederick, as Mrs. Courtenay and Di, and +Lord Hemsworth in close attendance, were +being gradually drifted towards the room in +which they were standing. "If Hemsworth +goes on giving that girl a hold over him, he +will find himself deuced uncomfortable one +of these days. He had better hold hard +while he can. Discretion is the better part +of valour. I've been telling him so."</p> + +<p>"Why should he hold hard?" said John,<span class="pagenum">[147]</span> +rather absently. "After all, none but the +brave deserve the fair."</p> + +<p>"And none but the brave can live with +some of them. He, he!" said Lord +Frederick, chuckling. "There are cheaper +ways of getting out of love than by marriage; +but she is a fine woman. Hemsworth has +got eyes in his head, I must own. I remember +being dreadfully in love with her +mother, nearly thirty years ago, and she with +me. She had that sort of stand-off manner +which takes some men more than anything; +it did me. I wonder more women don't +adopt it. I very nearly married her. He, +he! But Tempest, your uncle, made a fool +of himself while I hesitated, and was +wretched with her, poor devil! I have +never had such a shave since. Upon my +word" putting up his eyeglass—"if I were +a young man, I think I'd marry Di Tempest. +Those large women wear well, John; they<span class="pagenum">[148]</span> +don't shrivel up to nothing like Mrs. Graham, +or expand like Lady Torrington, that emblem +of plenty without waist. He, he! +Look at Mrs. Courtenay, too. There's a +fine old pelican with an eye to the main +chance. Always look at the mother and the +grandmother if you can. But she is on too +large a scale for you."</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," said John, calmly. "I +cherish thoughts of Miss Delmour, who is +quite three inches taller."</p> + +<p>"Don't marry a Delmour! They are too +thin. Those girls have neither mind, body, +nor estate. I have seen two generations of +them. They have a sort of prettiness when +they are quite new; but look at her married +sisters. They all look as if they had shrunk +in the wash."</p> + +<p>"I must go and speak to Mrs. Courtenay," +said John, from whose impenetrable face it +would have been difficult to judge whether<span class="pagenum">[149]</span> +his companion's style of conversation amused +or disgusted him. "Three years' absence +blunts the recollection of one's friends." +And he moved away towards the next room. +The recollection of a good many people, +however, had apparently not become blunted, +and it was some time before he could make +his way to Mrs. Courtenay, who was talking +with a Turkish Ambassador and revolutionizing +his ideas of English women.</p> + +<p>She was genuinely glad to see John, having +known him from a boy.</p> + +<p>"You know your cousin Diana, of course?" +she said, as Di came towards them.</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do not," said John. "I asked +who she was at the Thesinger wedding to-day, +and found myself in the ludicrous position +of not knowing my own first cousin."</p> + +<p>"Not recognizing her, you mean?" said +Mrs. Courtenay. "Surely you must have +seen her often in my house before you went<span class="pagenum">[150]</span> +abroad; but I suppose she was in a chrysalis +school-room state then, and has emerged +into young ladyhood since. Here is your +cousin saying he does not know you," continued +Mrs. Courtenay, turning to Di. +"John, this is Di. Di, this is your first +cousin, John Tempest."</p> + +<p>Both bowed, and then thought better of it +and shook hands. Their eyes met on the +exact level of equal height, and the steady +keen glance that passed between was like +the meeting of two formidable powers. Each +was taken by surprise. It was as if, instead +of shaking hands, they had suddenly measured +swords.</p> + +<p>"If you don't know each other you ought +to," continued Mrs. Courtenay. "Lord +Hemsworth, what is that unwholesome-looking +compound you have got hold of?"</p> + +<p>"Lemonade for Miss Tempest."</p> + +<p>"Kindly fetch me some too." And Mrs.<span class="pagenum">[151]</span> +Courtenay turned away to continue her conversation +with the Turk, who was still hovering +near, and whose bead-like eyes under his +red fez showed a decided envy of John.</p> + +<p>He and Di were standing in the doorway +that led into the last room where the refreshments +were, and a stream of people beginning +at that moment to press out again, pressed +them back into the room they had just been +leaving.</p> + +<p>"I shall upset this down some one's back +in another minute and make an enemy for +life," said Di, holding her glass as best she +could. She would have given anything at +that instant to say something unusually +frivolous in order to shake off the impression +of the moment before; but her frivolity had +temporarily departed with Lord Hemsworth.</p> + +<p>"Don't oppose the stream; subside into +this backwater," said John, placing his +square shoulders between the throng and<span class="pagenum">[152]</span> +herself, and nodding to a recess by one of +the high arched windows.</p> + +<p>Having reached it, Di sipped the highwater +mark off her lemonade.</p> + +<p>"It's safe now," she said. "I don't know +why I took it; I don't want it now I've got +it. Have you seen Archie since you came +back? You know <i>him</i>, of course? He often +talks about you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw him at the Thesinger wedding +to-day."</p> + +<p>"Were you there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but only at the church. I did not +go on to the house; I disliked the whole +affair too much. Many marriages, half the +marriages one sees, are only irrevocable +flirtations; but the ceremony of to-day was +not even that."</p> + +<p>Di looked away through the mullioned +window out across the river and its gliding +shimmer to the lights beyond. She did<span class="pagenum">[153]</span> +not know how long it was before she +spoke.</p> + +<p>"I think it was a great sin," she said, at +last, in a low voice, unconscious of a pause +that to her companion was full of meaning.</p> + +<p>"Or a great mistake," he said, gently.</p> + +<p>"No, not a mistake," said Di, still looking +out. "The others, the irrevocable flirtations, +are the mistakes. There was no mistake +to-day. But it was a dull wedding," she +added, with sudden self-recollection and a +change of manner. "Not like one I was at +last autumn in the country. I was staying +in the same house as the bridegroom, and he +and the best man, a Mr. Lumley, got up at +an early hour, woke some of the other men, +and paraded the house with an <i>impromptu</i> +band of music. I remember the bridegroom +performed piercingly upon the comb. I +wonder people ever play the comb; it is so +plaintive. But perhaps it is your favourite<span class="pagenum">[154]</span> +instrument, perfected in the course of foreign +travel, and I am trampling on your feelings +unawares."</p> + +<p>"I used to play upon it," said John, "but +not of late years. I left it off because it +tickled and increased the natural melancholy +of my disposition. What were the other +instruments?"</p> + +<p>"Let me see, Lord Hemsworth murmured +upon a gong, and Mr. Lumley uttered his +dark speech upon a tray. The whole was +very effective. He told me afterwards that +it was a relief to his feelings, which had been +much lacerated by the misplaced affections +of the bride."</p> + +<p>Di's laughing mischievous eyes met John's +fixed upon her with a grave attention that +took her aback. She had an uncomfortable +sense that he was regarding her with secret +amusement. A moment before she had +been sorry that she had inadvertently spoken<span class="pagenum">[155]</span> +with a force that was unusual to her. Now +she was equally vexed that she had been +flippant.</p> + +<p>"Here you are," said Lord Hemsworth, +elbowing his way up to them. "I have +been looking for you everywhere. Mrs. +Courtenay is going, and is asking for you."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i-ep07.jpg" width="500" height="280" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chapter" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[156]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i-ch08.jpg" width="600" height="193" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Psyché-papillon, un jour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Puisses-tu trouver l'amour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Et perdre tes ailes!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="quote">"</p> + +<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/drop_d.jpg" width="80" height="81" alt="D" /> +<span class="hide">D</span>I," said Mrs. Courtenay, as they drove +away at last, after the usual half-hour's +waiting for the carriage, the tedium +of which Lord Hemsworth had exerted +himself to relieve, "do you usually talk quite +so much nonsense to Lord Hemsworth as +you did to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Generally, granny. Yes, I think it was +about the usual quantity. Sometimes it is +rather more, a good deal more, when you +are not there."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[157]</span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Courtenay was silent for a few +minutes.</p> + +<p>"You are making a mistake, Di," she said +at last.</p> + +<p>"How, granny?"</p> + +<p>"In your manner to Lord Hemsworth. +You make yourself cheap to him. A woman +should never do that!"</p> + +<p>Di did not answer.</p> + +<p>"When I was young," said Mrs. Courtenay, +"I should have been proud to have +been admired by a man of his stamp."</p> + +<p>"So should I," said Di, quietly, "if I did +not like him so much."</p> + +<p>"You do like him, then?"</p> + +<p>"I do, and I mean to act on the square +by him!"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do, granny, perfectly! I have +known him too long to alter my manner to +him. I know him by heart. If I once<span class="pagenum">[158]</span> +begin to be serious and reserved with him, +if I once fail to keep him at arm's length, +which talking nonsense does, his feeling +towards me, which only amuses him now, +will become serious too. Lord Hemsworth +is not so superficial as he seems. He would +have been in earnest before now if I would +have let him, and he is the kind of man +who could be very much in earnest. I can't +help his playing with edged tools, but I <i>can</i> +prevent his cutting himself."</p> + +<p>"My dear, he is in love with you now, +and has been for the last six months."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Di, "he is in a way; but he +would be much worse if he had had encouragement."</p> + +<p>"And what do you call allowing him to +talk to you for half an hour on the stairs, +if it is not encouragement? You may be +certain there was not a creature there who +did not think you were encouraging him."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[159]</span></p> + +<p>"I don't mind what creatures think, as +long as I don't <i>do</i> the thing. And he knows +well enough I don't!"</p> + +<p>"Why <i>not</i> do it, if you like him?"</p> + +<p>"Well, granny," said Di, after a pause, +"the way I look at it is this. I don't mean +only about Lord Hemsworth, but about any +one who, well, who is interested in me—really +interested in me, I mean; not one of +the sham ones who want to pass the time. +I never consider them. I say something +like this to myself. 'Di, do you observe +that man?' 'Yes,' I say, 'my eye is upon +him.' 'Are you aware that he will come +and speak to you the first instant he can?' +'Yes, I know that.' 'Look at him well.' +Then I look at him. 'What do you think +of him?' 'He is rather nice-looking,' I say, +'and he is pleasant to talk to, and he has +the right kind of collars. I like him.' 'Di,' +I say to myself very solemnly—you have no<span class="pagenum">[160]</span> +idea how solemn I am on these occasions—'are +you willing to prefer him to the rest of +the whole universe, to listen to his conversation +for the remainder of your natural life, +to knock under to him entirely; in short, to +take him and his collars for better for worse?' +'No, of course not,' I say indignantly; 'I +should not think of such a thing!' 'Then,' +I reply, 'you have no earthly right to let +him think you might be persuaded to; or to +allow him to take a single one of the preliminary +steps in that direction, however +gratifying it may be to your vanity to see +him do it, or however sorry you may be to +lose him. He is paying you the highest +compliment a man can pay a woman. One +good turn deserves another. He has seen +you looking at him. Here he comes to try +the first rung of the ladder. Stop him at +once, before he has climbed high enough for +a fall. He will soon go away if he thinks<span class="pagenum">[161]</span> +you are heartless and frivolous. Well, then, +he is a good fellow. He deserves it at your +hands. Let him think you heartless, and +send him away none the worse.' That is +something of what I feel about men—I mean +the nice ones, granny."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Courtenay raised her eyes to the +ceiling of the carriage, and her two hands +made a simultaneous upheaval under her +voluminous wraps. Her hopes for Lord +Hemsworth had suffered a severe shock +during the last few minutes, and words were +a relief.</p> + +<p>"Of all the egregious folly I have heard +in the course of a long life," she remarked, +"I think that takes the palm. How do you +suppose any woman in the whole world, or +man either, would marry if they looked +at marriage like that? Things come +gradually."</p> + +<p>"Not with me, granny," said Di, promptly.<span class="pagenum">[162]</span> +"Either I see them or I don't see them; +and at the beginning I always look on to +the end, just as one does in a novel to see +whether it is worth reading. I can't pretend +to myself when I walk in the direction of +church bells that I don't know I shall arrive +at the church in the end, however pleasant +the walk may be."</p> + +<p>"You will never marry, so you may as +well make up your mind to it," said Mrs. +Courtenay, who was already revolving an +entirely new idea in her mind, which cast +Lord Hemsworth completely into the shade. +"If you are so fond of looking at the future, +you had better amuse yourself by picturing +yourself as a penniless old maid."</p> + +<p>"I wish there was something one could +be between an old maid and a married +woman," said Di. "I think if I had my +choice I would be a widow."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Courtenay, somewhat propitiated<span class="pagenum">[163]</span> +by her new idea, gave her silent but visible +laugh, and Di went on—</p> + +<p>"What do you think of John Tempest, +granny? He is so black that talking of +widows reminded me of him."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Courtenay sustained a slight nervous +shock.</p> + +<p>"I had not much conversation with him," +she said, stifling a slight yawn. "I am glad +to see him back in England. Remind me +to ask him next time we have a dinner-party."</p> + +<p>"He looks clever," said Di. "Ugly men +sometimes do. It is a way they have."</p> + +<p>"It does not matter how ugly a man is if +he looks like a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit," said Di. "I am only sorry +he looks as if he had been cut out with a +blunt pair of scissors because he is a Tempest, +and Tempests ought to be handsome to +keep up the family traditions. Look at the<span class="pagenum">[164]</span> +old man in Westminster Abbey. I am proud +of his nose whenever I look at it. I wish +the present head of the family had kept a +firmer hold on that feature, that is all; and, +it being a hook, I should have thought he +might easily have done so. I think it is a +want of good taste to bring the Fane +features so prominently to Overleigh, don't +you? Archie represents the looks of the +family certainly, and so do I, granny, though +I believe you fondly imagine I am not aware +of it. But it does not matter so much what +we look like, as it does with the head of +the family."</p> + +<p>"The family has got a head to it for the +first time for two generations," remarked +Mrs. Courtenay, closing the conversation by +putting on her respirator.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>As Lord Hemsworth turned away from +putting Mrs. Courtenay and Di into their<span class="pagenum">[165]</span> +carriage he saw John coming down the +steps.</p> + +<p>"Still here?" he said. "I thought you +had gone hours ago."</p> + +<p>"It is a fine night," said John, who did +not think it necessary to say that he <i>was</i> still +there; "I think I shall walk."</p> + +<p>"So will I," replied Lord Hemsworth, +and they went out together.</p> + +<p>John and Lord Hemsworth had known +each other since the Eton days, and had that +sort of quiet liking for each other which has +the germ of friendship in it, which circumstances +may eventually quicken or destroy.</p> + +<p>As they turned into Whitehall a hansom, +one of many, passed them at a foot's pace, +with its usual civil interrogatory, "Cab, sir?"</p> + +<p>"That cab horse with the white stocking +reminds me," said Lord Hemsworth, "that +I was looking at a bay mare at Tattersall's +to-day for my team. I wish you would<span class="pagenum">[166]</span> +come and see her, Tempest. I like her +looks, and she is a good match to the other +bay, but she has a white stocking."</p> + +<p>"I don't see any harm in one," said John, +with interest; "but it rather depends on +the rest of the team."</p> + +<p>"That is just it," said Lord Hemsworth. +"I drive a scratch team this year, two greys +and two bays with black points. She is +right height, good action, not too high, and +has been driven as a wheeler, which is what +I want her for; but I don't like the idea of +a white stocking among them."</p> + +<p>And talking of one of the subjects that +most Englishmen have in common, they +proceeded slowly past the Horse Guards +and into Trafalgar Square.</p> + +<p>"Tempest," said Lord Hemsworth, after +a time, "do you know it strikes me very +forcibly that we are being followed?"</p> + +<p>"Not likely," said John.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[167]</span></p> + +<p>"Not at all likely, but the fact all the +same. Look there, that is the same hansom +waiting at the corner that hailed us as we +came out of the gates. I know him by the +white stocking."</p> + +<p>"I should imagine there might be about +five hundred and one cab horses with white +stockings in London."</p> + +<p>"I dare say, but I know a horse again +when I see him just as much as I know a +face. I bet you anything you like that is +the same horse."</p> + +<p>"I dare say it is," said John absently.</p> + +<p>Lord Hemsworth said nothing more. +They walked up St. James's Street in silence.</p> + +<p>"I have taken rooms here for the moment," +said John, stopping at the corner of +King Street. "I will come round to Tattersall's +about two to-morrow. Good night."</p> + +<p>Lord Hemsworth bade him good night, +and then walked on up St. James's Street<span class="pagenum">[168]</span>. +There were a few hansoms on the stand. +The last, which was in the act of drawing +up behind the others, had a horse with a +white stocking.</p> + +<p>"Now," said Lord Hemsworth to himself, +"we will see whether it is Tempest or me +he is after, for I am certain it is one of us."</p> + +<p>He stopped short near the cab-stand, and, +striking a light, lit a cigarette, holding the +match so that his face was plainly visible. +Then he proceeded leisurely on his way and +turned down Piccadilly. There were a good +many people in the street and a certain +number of carriages.</p> + +<p>Presently he stopped under a somewhat +dark archway, and threw away his cigarette.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, after carefully watching +for some time the cabs and carriages which +passed; "nothing more to be seen of our +friend. I wonder what's up! It's Tempest +he was after, not me."</p> + +<hr class="chapter" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[169]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i-ch09.jpg" width="600" height="185" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<p class="centern">"Is it well with the child?"—2 <span class="smcap">Kings</span> iv. 26.</p> + +<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/drop_a.jpg" width="80" height="79" alt="A" /> +<span class="hide">A</span> HAPPY childhood is one of the best +gifts that parents have it in their +power to bestow; second only to implanting +the habit of obedience, which puts the child +in training for the habit of obeying himself +later on.</p> + +<p>A happy childhood is like a welcome into +the world. This welcome John never had. +No one had been glad to see him when +he arrived. No little ring of downy hair +had been cut off and treasured. No one +came to look at him when he was asleep. +No wedded hands were clasped the closer<span class="pagenum">[170]</span> +for his coming. The love and awe and +pride which sometimes meet over the cradle +of a first child were absent from his nursery. +The old nurse who had been his mother's +nurse took him and loved him, and gave +herself for him, as is the marvellous way of +some women with other people's children. +I believe the under-housemaid occasionally +came to see him in his bath, and I think the +butler, who was a family man himself, gave +him a woolly lamb on his first birthday. +But excepting the servants and the village +people, no one took much notice of John. +It is not even on record whether he ever +crept, or what the first word he could say +was. It was all chronicled on Mitty's faithful +heart, but nowhere else. Mitty was +proud when he began to sway and reel on +unsteady legs. Mitty walked up and down +with him in her arms night after night when +teeth were coming, crooning little sympathetic<span class="pagenum">[171]</span> +songs. Mitty dressed him every afternoon +in his best frock with blue sash and +ribboned socks, just like the other children +who go downstairs. But John never went +downstairs at teatime; never gnawed a lump +of sugar with solemn glutinous joy under a +parent's eye; or sucked the stiffness out of +a rusk before admiring friends. No one +sent for John; he was never wanted.</p> + +<p>Mitty had had troubles. She had buried +Mr. Mitty many years ago, and, after keeping +a cow of her own, had returned to the +service of the Fanes, with whom she had +lived before her marriage. But I do not +think she ever felt anything so acutely as +the neglect of her "lamb."</p> + +<p>When Mr. Tempest was expected home +John was put through tearful and elaborate +toilets. His hair, dark and straight, the +despair of Mitty's heart, was worked up +till it rose like a crest on the top of his<span class="pagenum">[172]</span> +head; his bronze shoes (which succeeded +the knitted socks) were put on. But after +these great efforts Mitty always cried bitterly, +and kissed John till he cried too for +company, and then his smart things would +be torn off, and they would go down to tea +together in the housekeeper's room. That +was a treat. There was society in the +housekeeper's room. Mrs. Alcock was very +large, spread over with black silk which had +a rich aroma of desserts and sweet biscuits. +There were in her keeping certain macaroons +John knew of, for she was a person +of vast responsibilities. He sat on her knee +sometimes, but not often, for she breathed +and rose and fell all over, and creaked underneath +her buttons. She was kind, but +she was billowy, and the geography of her +figure was uncertain, and she could never +think of anything to interest him but +macaroons, and she was enigmatical as to<span class="pagenum">[173]</span> +how the almond was fastened into the top. +The butler, Mr. Parker, was estimable, but +Mr. Parker, like Mrs. Alcock, was averse to +answering questions, even when John inquired, +"Why his head was coming through +his hair?" Charles the footman was more +amusing, but he never came into the housekeeper's +room. It was difficult to see as +much of Charles as could be wished. He +was really funny when Mitty was not there. +He could dance a hornpipe in the pantry. +John had seen him do it; and Charles was +always ready to pull off his coat and give +John a ride. What kickings and neighings +and prancings there were going upstairs on +these occasions. How John clutched round +his horse's neck urging him not to spare +himself, till he pressed his charger's shirtstud +into his throat. Once on a wet day +they went out hunting in the garret gallery, +but only once, when Mitty was out: and the<span class="pagenum">[174]</span> +housemaid with the red cheeks was the fox. +Ah! what an afternoon that was. But it +came to an end all too soon. Charles wiped +his forehead at last, and said the fox was +"gone to ground," though John knew she +was only in the housemaid's closet, giggling +among the brooms. That was an afternoon +not to be forgotten, not even to be spoilt +by the fact that when Mitty and a bag of +bull's-eyes came home she was very angry, +and called the fox an "impudent hussy." +Perhaps that event was the first that remained +distinctly in his memory. Certainly +afterwards people and incidents detached +themselves more clearly from the haze of +confused memories that preceded it.</p> + +<p>The following day as it seemed to John—perhaps, +in reality many weeks later—he had +a vague recollection of a stir in the house, +and of seeing various kinds of candles laid +out on a table near the storeroom; and then<span class="pagenum">[175]</span> +he was in a new black velvet suit with a +collar that tickled, and they were in the +picture-gallery, he and Mitty, and there were +lamps, and all the white sheets were gone +from the furniture, and it was all very +solemn; and Mitty held his hand tight and +told him to be a good boy, and blew his +nose for him with a handkerchief of her own +that had crumbs in it, and then wiped her +eyes and gave him a flower to hold, telling +him to be very careful of it; and John was +<i>very</i> careful. Years later he could see that +flower still. It was a white orchis with +maidenhair; and then suddenly a door at the +further end of the gallery opened, and a tall +man, whom John had seen before, came out.</p> + +<p>Mitty loosed John's hand and gave him a +little push, whispering, "Go and speak to +your papa, and give him the pretty flower." +But John stood stock still and looked at the +advancing figure.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[176]</span></p> + +<p>And the tall gentleman came down the +gallery, and stopped short rather suddenly +when he saw them, and said, "Well, nurse, +all flourishing, I hope? Well, John," and +passed on.</p> + +<p>And Mitty and John were much depressed, +and went upstairs again the back way; and +Mrs. Alcock met them at the swing door and +said <i>she never did</i>, and Mitty cried all the +time she undressed him, and he pulled the +orchis to pieces, and found on investigation +that it had wire inside; and experienced the +same difficulty in putting it together again +next morning that he had previously found in +readjusting the toilet of a dead robin after he +had carefully undressed it the night before. +After that "Papa" became not a familiar +but a distinct figure in John's recollection. +"Papa" was seen from the nursery windows +to walk up and down the bowling-green on +the wide plateau in front of the castle, where<span class="pagenum">[177]</span> +the fountain was, with Neptune reining in his +dolphins in the middle. John was taught by +Mitty to kiss his hand to papa, but papa, who +seldom looked up, was apparently unconscious +of these blandishments. He was seen +to arrive and to depart. Sometimes other +men came back with him who met John in +the gardens and made delightful jokes, and +were almost equal to Charles, only they did +not wear livery.</p> + +<p>One event followed close upon another.</p> + +<p>A lady came to Overleigh. Mitty and +Mrs. Alcock agreed that no lady had ever +stayed at Overleigh since—and then they +stopped: and that very evening John was +actually sent for to come down to dessert. +Charles, who had run up to the nursery +during dinner to say so, remarked with a +prefatory "Lawks" that wonders would +never cease. John was quite ready at the +time the message came, sitting in his black<span class="pagenum">[178]</span> +velvet suit and his silk stockings and his +buckled shoes in his own chair by the fire. +He had grown out of several suits whilst he +waited. It was one of the many inexplicable +things that he took in wondering silence at +the time, that when he wore those particular +garments a certain red cushion was always +put on the seat of his little cane-bottomed +chair. Mitty told him when he inquired +into it that was because of the pattern +coming off on his velvets, "blesh" him, and +John did not understand, but turned it over +in his mind together with everything he +heard, and pondered long beside the nursery +fire over many things, and was a very solemn, +richly-dressed, lonely little boy.</p> + +<p>He had always been ready, always waiting +when Mr. Tempest was at home. Now at +last he was sent for. He took it with a stoic +calm. Mitty and Charles were much more +excited than he was. Even Mrs. Alcock,<span class="pagenum">[179]</span> +who had seen too much of the ways of +scullery and dairymaids to be capable of +being surprised at anything in this world—even +she was taken aback. Mitty and he +went together down the grand staircase; +and the carved figures on the banisters had +lamps in their hands, so many lamps that +they made him wink, and in the great stone +hall there was a blazing log fire, and among +the statues there were tall palms and growing +things.</p> + +<p>John was still looking at the white fur +rugs upon the stone floor, and counting the +claws of the outstretched bear's paws when +Charles came to tell them that dinner was +over. The moment had come. Mitty took +him to the door, opened it, and pushed him +gently in.</p> + +<p>The dining-hall looked very large and +very empty. John had never been in it at +night before. A long way off at a little<span class="pagenum">[180]</span> +table in the bay window two people were +sitting. A glow of shaded light fell on the +table. Mr. Parker was not there. Even +Charles, whom John had always considered +indispensable in the highest circles, was +absent. John walked very slowly across the +room and stopped short in the middle, his +strong little hands tightly clasped behind +his back on the clean folded pocket handkerchief +that Mitty had thrust into them at +the last moment. He was not afraid, but +he did not know what was going to happen +next.</p> + +<p>The lady turned and looked towards him.</p> + +<p>She was pale, with white hair, and a sad, +beautiful face as if she had often been very, +very sorry. She was older than Mitty and +Mrs. Alcock, and Mrs. Evans of the shop, +and quite different, very awful to look +upon.</p> + +<p>John wondered whether she was Queen<span class="pagenum">[181]</span> +Victoria, and whether he ought to kneel +down.</p> + +<p>"Come here, John," said Mr. Tempest, +but John did not stir.</p> + +<p>"So this is John," said the lady, and she +put out her wonderful jewelled hand with a +very gentle smile, and John went straight +up to her at once and stood close beside her, +on her gown, in fact; and it was not Queen +Victoria. It was Mrs. Courtenay.</p> + +<p>After that night a change came over +John's life. He was not forgotten any more. +Mrs. Courtenay during the few days that +she remained at Overleigh came up several +times to the nursery, and had long conversations +with Mitty. John, arrayed in +the stiffest of white sailor suits with +anchors at the corners, came down to see +her in the sunny morning-room where his +mother's picture hung, and showed her at +her request his Noah's Ark which Mitty<span class="pagenum">[182]</span> +had given him, and afterwards conversed +with her on many topics. He repeated to +her the hymn Mitty had taught him,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When little Samiwell awoke,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and mentioned Charles to her with high +esteem. She was very gentle with him, +very courteous. She gave him her whole +attention, looking at him with a certain +pained compassion. Gradually John unfolded +his mind to her. He confided to +her his intention of marrying Mitty at a +future date, and of presenting Charles at +the same time with a set of studs like Mr. +Parker's. He was very grave and sedate, +and every morning shrank back afresh from +going to see her, and then forgot his fears +in the kind feminine presence and the +welcome that was so new and strange and +sweet. Once she took him in her arms and +held him closely to her. Her eyes were +stern through her tears.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[183]</span></p> + +<p>"Poor little fatherless, motherless child!" +she said, half to herself, and she put him +down and went to the window and looked +out—looked out across the forest to the +valley and over the stretching woods to the +long lines of the moors against the sky. +Perhaps she was thinking that it would all +belong to that little child some day; the +home where she had once hoped to see her +own daughter live happily with children +growing up about her.</p> + +<p>Mr. Tempest came into the room at that +moment.</p> + +<p>"What, John here?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied, and was silent. There +was a great indignation in her face.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tempest," she said at last, "evil +has been done to you, not once, but twice. +You have suffered heavily at the hands of +others. Be careful that some one does not +suffer at <i>your</i> hands!"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[184]</span></p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Your," Mrs. Courtenay hesitated, "your +<i>heir</i>."</p> + +<p>"He <i>is</i> my heir," said Mr. Tempest, +sternly; "that is enough!"</p> + +<p>"Then do your duty by him," said Mrs. +Courtenay. "You do it to others; do it +also to him." And thenceforward, and until +the day of his death, Mr. Tempest did his +duty as he conceived it! never a fraction +more, but never a fraction less.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>John was put early to school. No one +went down to see the place before he came +to it. No one wrote anxiously about him +beforehand, describing his health and his +attainments in the Latin grammar. Mr. +Goodwin, who was afterwards his tutor, +long remembered the arrival of the little, +square, bullet-headed boy with a servant, +with whom he gravely shook hands on the<span class="pagenum">[185]</span> +platform. Mr. Goodwin had come to meet +him, and Charles, the last link to home, was +parted from in silence. The small luggage +was handed over. Once as they left the +station, John looked back, and Mr. Goodwin +saw the little brown hands clench tightly. +John had a trick of clenching his hands as +a child, which clung to him throughout life, +but he walked on in silence. He was seven +years old, and in trousers. <i>Pantalon oblige.</i> +Mr. Goodwin, a good-natured under-master +fresh from college, with small brothers at +home, respected his silence. Perhaps he +divined something of the struggle that was +going on under that brand new little great-coat +of many pockets. Presently John +swallowed ominously several times.</p> + +<p>Mr. Goodwin supposed the usual tears +were coming.</p> + +<p>"Those are very large puddles," said +John suddenly, with a quaver in his voice,<span class="pagenum">[186]</span> +"larger than——" The voice, though not +the courage, failed.</p> + +<p>"They are, Tempest," said Mr. Goodwin, +"uncommonly large!"</p> + +<p>And that was the beginning of a lasting +friendship between the two. That friendship +took a long time to grow. John was +reserved with the reticence that in a child +speaks volumes of what the home-life had +been. He had not the habit of talking to +anyone. He listened and obeyed. At first +he held aloof from the other boys. Mr. +Goodwin advised him to make friends, and +John listened in silence. He had never +been with boys before. He did not know +how. The first half he was very lonely. +He would have been bullied more than he +actually was had he not been so strong and +so impossible to convince of defeat. As +it was, he took his share with a sort of +doggedness, and would have started on the<span class="pagenum">[187]</span> +high road to unpopularity in his new little +world if he had not turned out good at +games. That saved him, and before many +weeks were over long blotted accounts of +football and cricket and racquets were +written to Mitty and Charles. Mr. Goodwin +noticed that the weekly letter to his father +never contained any particulars of this kind.</p> + +<p>There had been a difficulty at first about +his correspondence, which—after long +pondering upon the same—John had +brought to Mr. Goodwin for advice.</p> + +<p>"I want to send a letter to some one," +he said one day, when Mr. Goodwin had +asked him into his study. "Not father."</p> + +<p>"To whom, then?"</p> + +<p>"To Mitty. I said I would write; I +promised." And he produced a very much +blotted paper and spread it before Mr. +Goodwin.</p> + +<p>"It's a long letter." It was indeed; the<span class="pagenum">[188]</span> +writing had been so severe and the paper +so thin, that it had worked through to the +other side.</p> + +<p>"For Mitty," said John. "That is the +person it's for; and another for Charles, +with a picture in it." And a second sheet, +suggestive of severe manual labour, was +produced.</p> + +<p>"I see," said Mr. Goodwin, his hand laid +carelessly over his mouth, "but—yes, I see. +This for Charles, and this for—ahem!—Mitty. +And you want them to go to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." John was evidently relieved. He +extracted from his trousers pocket two envelopes, +not much the worse for seclusion, +and laid one by each letter. One envelope +was stamped. "I had two stamps," he explained; +"one I put on, and the other I ate +in a mistake. I licked it, and then I could +not find it."</p> + +<p>"Well, we will put on another," said Mr.<span class="pagenum">[189]</span> +Goodwin, who was a person of resources. +"Now, what next? Shall we put them into +their envelopes?"</p> + +<p>John cautiously assented.</p> + +<p>"And perhaps you would like me to direct +them for you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." John certainly had a nice smile.</p> + +<p>"Well, here goes; we will do Charles +first. Who is Charles?"</p> + +<p>"He lives with us. He brought me in +the train."</p> + +<p>"Really! Well, what is his name? +Charles what?"</p> + +<p>"He is not Charles anything," said John, +anxiously. "That's just it; he's only +Charles."</p> + +<p>Mr. Goodwin laid down the pen. He +saw the difficulty.</p> + +<p>"He must have another name, Tempest," +he said. "Try and think."</p> + +<p>"I <i>have</i> thought," said John. "Before I<span class="pagenum">[190]</span> +came to you I thought. I thought in bed +last night."</p> + +<p>"And don't you know Mitty's name +either?"</p> + +<p>"No." John's voice was almost inaudible.</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" said Mr. Goodwin, smiling, +and not realizing the gravity of the situation. +"We can't put 'Mitty' on one letter, and +'Charles' on the other. That would never +do, would it?"</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence, in which +hope went straight out of John's heart. If +Mr. Goodwin could not see his way out of +the difficulty, who could? He turned red, +and then white. His harsh-featured, little +face took an ugly look of acute distress.</p> + +<p>"I said I would write," he said, in a +strangled voice. "I promised Charles in +the pantry; it was a faithful promise."</p> + +<p>Mr. Goodwin looked up in surprise, and +his manner changed.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[191]</span></p> + +<p>"Wait a minute," he said, eagerly; "the +letters shall go. We will manage it somehow. +Is Charles the butler at home?"</p> + +<p>"No; that is Mr. Parker."</p> + +<p>"What is he, then?"</p> + +<p>"He does things for Mr. Parker. Mr. +Parker points, and Charles hands the plates."</p> + +<p>"Footman, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John, with relief, "that's +Charles."</p> + +<p>"Now," said Mr. Goodwin, with interest, +"shall we put, 'The footman, Overleigh +Castle,' on the envelope? Then it will be +sure to reach him."</p> + +<p>"There's Francis; he's a footman, too," +suggested John, but with dawning hope. +"Francis might get it then. He took a +kidney once!"</p> + +<p>"We will put 'Charles, the footman,' then," +said Mr. Goodwin, writing it. "'Overleigh +Castle,' Yorkshire. Now then, for the other."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[192]</span></p> + +<p>"When I write to father, what do I put +at the end?" said John, his eyes still riveted +on the envelope. "'J. Tempest,' and then +something else."</p> + +<p>"Esquire?" suggested Mr. Goodwin.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John. "I think I should like +Charles to be the same as father, please."</p> + +<p>Mr. Goodwin added a large esquire after +the word footman.</p> + +<p>"Now for Mitty," he said. "I suppose +Mitty is the housekeeper?"</p> + +<p>"Why, the housekeeper is Mrs. Alcock!" +said John, with a smile at Mr. Goodwin's +ignorance.</p> + +<p>"There seem to be a good many servants +at Overleigh."</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied John, "it is a nice party. +We are company to each other. You see, +father is always away almost, and he does +not play anything when he is at home. +Now, Charles always does his concertina in<span class="pagenum">[193]</span> +the evenings, and Francis is learning the +flute."</p> + +<p>After the direction of the second letter +had been finally settled, John licked them +carefully up, and looked at them with +triumph.</p> + +<p>"You must go now," said Mr. Goodwin. +"I'm busy."</p> + +<p>John retreated to the door, and then +paused.</p> + +<p>"Me and Mitty and Charles are much +obliged," he said, with dignity.</p> + +<p>"Don't mention it," said Mr. Goodwin.</p> + +<p>But the incident remained in his mind.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i-ep09.jpg" width="500" height="258" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chapter" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[194]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i-ch10.jpg" width="600" height="190" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<p class="centern">"Whoso would be a man must be a Nonconformist."—<span class="smcap">Emerson.</span></p> + +<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/drop_j.jpg" width="80" height="82" alt="J" /> +<span class="hide">J</span>OHN was eleven years old when, during +a memorable Easter holidays, his father +died, and lay in state in the round room in +the western tower, and was buried at midnight +by torchlight in the little Norman +church at Overleigh, as had been the custom +of the Tempests from time immemorial.</p> + +<p>His father's death made very little difference +to John, except that his holidays were +spent with Miss Fane, an aunt in London: +and Charles left to become a butler with a +footman under him; and the other servants,<span class="pagenum">[195]</span> +too, seemed to melt away, leaving only Mitty, +and Mr. Parker, and Mrs. Alcock, in the old +shuttered home. Mr. Goodwin was John's +tutor during the holidays. It was he who +saved John's life at the railway station, at the +risk of his own.</p> + +<p>No one had been aware, till the accident +happened, that John had been particularly +attached to his tutor. He evidently got on +with him, and was conveniently pleased with +his society, but he had, to a peculiar degree, +the stolid indifferent manner of most schoolboys. +He was absolutely undemonstrative, +and he tacitly resented his aunt's occasional +demonstrative affection to himself. When +will unmarried elder people learn that children +are not to be deceived? John was very +courteous, even as a boy, but his best friends +could not say of him, at that or at any later +period of his life, that he was engaging. +He had, through life, a cold manner. No<span class="pagenum">[196]</span> +one had supposed, what really was the case, +namely, that he would have given his body +to be burned for the sake of the kind, cheerful +young man who had taken an easy fancy +to him on his arrival at school, and had +subsequently become sufficiently fond of him +to prefer being his tutor to that of any one +else. He guessed John's absolute devotion +to himself as little as any one. John's boyish +thoughts, and feelings, and affections, were of +that shy yet fierce kind, which shrink equally +from expression and detection. No one had +so far found them hard to deal with, because +no one had thought of dealing with them.</p> + +<p>Yet John sat for two days on the stairs +outside the sick man's room, after the accident, +unnoticed and unreprimanded. He was +never seen to cry, but he was, nevertheless, +almost unable to see out of his eyes. His +aunt, Miss Fane, at whose house in London +he was spending his Christmas holidays, had<span class="pagenum">[197]</span> +gone down to the country to nurse a sister, +and the house was empty, but for the servants +and the trained nurse. The doctor, who +came several times a day, always found him +sitting on the stairs, or appearing stealthily +from an upper landing, working himself down +by the balusters. He said very little, but +the doctor seemed to understand the situation, +and always had a kind and encouraging +word for him, and gave him Mr. Goodwin's +love, and took messages and offers of his +best books from John to the invalid. But +during those two long days, he always had +some excellent reason for John's not visiting +his tutor. He was invariably, at that moment, +tired, or asleep, or resting, or—— A deep +anxiety settled on John's mind. Something +was being kept from him.</p> + +<p>Christmas Day came and passed. Mitty's +present, and a Christmas card from a +friend, the Latin master's youngest daughter,<span class="pagenum">[198]</span> +came for John, but they were unopened. +The next day brought three doctors who +stayed a long time in the drawing-room after +they had been in the sick-room.</p> + +<p>John sat on the stairs with clenched hands. +At last he got up deliberately and went into +the drawing-room. Two of the doctors were +sitting down. One was standing on the +hearth-rug looking into the fire.</p> + +<p>"It can't be done," he was saying emphatically. +"Both must go."</p> + +<p>All three men turned in surprise as John +entered the room. He came up to the fire, +unaware of the enormity of the crime he was +committing in interrupting a consultation. +He tried to speak. He had got ready what +he wished to ask. But his lips only moved; +no words came out.</p> + +<p>The consultation was evidently finished, +for the man on the hearth-rug, who seemed +anxious to get away, was buttoning his fur<span class="pagenum">[199]</span> +coat, and holding his hands to the fire for a +last warm. They were very kind. They +were not jocose with him, as is the horrible +way of some elder persons with childhood's +troubles. The old doctor who came daily +put his hand on his shoulder and told him +Mr. Goodwin had been very ill, but that he +was going to get better, going to be quite +well and strong again presently.</p> + +<p>John said nothing. He was convinced +there was something in the background.</p> + +<p>"Twelve o'clock to-morrow, then," said +the man who was in a hurry, and he took up +his hat and went out.</p> + +<p>"I have two boys about the same age +as you," said the old doctor, patting John's +shoulder. "Tom and Edward. They are +making a little model steam-engine. I expect +you are fond of engines, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"Not just now, thank you," said John. +"I am sometimes."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[200]</span></p> + +<p>"I wish you would come and see it +to-morrow," continued the doctor. "They +would like to show it you, I know. I could +send you back in the carriage when it has +set me down here about—shall we say +twelve? Do come and see it."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said John almost inaudibly, +"you are very kind, but—I am engaged."</p> + +<p>Miss Fane always said she was engaged +when she did not want to accept an invitation, +and John supposed it was a polite way +of saying he would rather not go. The +other doctor laughed, but not unkindly, and +the father of Tom and Edward absently +drew on his gloves, as if turning over something +in his mind.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen the new lion, and the +birds that fly under water at the Zoo?" he +inquired slowly, "and the snakes being fed?"</p> + +<p>"No," said John.</p> + +<p>"Ah! That's the thing to see," he said<span class="pagenum">[201]</span> +thoughtfully. "Tom and Edward have been. +Dear me! How they enjoyed it! They +went at feeding time, mid-day. And my +nephew, Harry Austin, who is twenty-one +and at college, went with them, and said he +would not have missed it for anything. You +go and see that, with that nice man who +answers the bell. I will send you two tickets +to-night."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said John.</p> + +<p>The two doctors shook hands with him +and departed.</p> + +<p>"You may as well keep your tickets," said +the younger one as they went downstairs. +"He does not mean going."</p> + +<p>"He is a queer little devil," said Tom's and +Edward's father. "But I like him. There's +grit in him, and he watches outside that +room like a dog. I wish I could have got +him out of the house to-morrow, poor little +beggar."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[202]</span></p> + +<p>John stood quite still in the middle of the +long, empty drawing-room when they were +gone. A nameless foreboding of some +horrible calamity was upon him. And yet—and +yet—they had said he was going to get +better, to be quite strong again. He waylaid +the trained nurse for the twentieth time, +and she said the same.</p> + +<p>He suffered himself to be taken out for +a walk, after hearing from her that Mr. +Goodwin wished it; and in the afternoon he +consented to go with George, Miss Fane's +cheerful, good-natured young footman, to +the "Christian Minstrels." But he lay +awake all night, and in the morning after +breakfast he crept noiselessly back to the +stairs. It was a foggy morning, and the gas +was lit. Jessie, the stout, silly housemaid, +always in a perspiration or tears, was sweeping +the landing just above him, sniffing audibly +as she did so.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[203]</span></p> + +<p>"Poor young gentleman," she was saying +below her breath to her colleague. "I can't +a-bear the thought of the operation. It +seems to turn my inside clean upside down."</p> + +<p>John clutched hold of the banisters. His +heart gave one throb, and then stood quite +still.</p> + +<p>"Coleman says as both 'is 'ands must go," +said the other maid also in a whisper. "She +told me herself. She says she's never seen +such a case all her born days. They've +been trying all along to save one, but they +can't. They're to be took hoff to-day."</p> + +<p>John understood at last.</p> + +<p>He slipped downstairs again, and stood +a moment in hesitation where to go: not +to the little back-room on the ground-floor, +which had been set apart for his use by his +aunt. He might be found there. George +might come in to see if he would fancy a +game of battledore and shuttle-cock, or the<span class="pagenum">[204]</span> +cook might step up with a little cake, or the +butler himself might bring him a comic +paper. The servants were always kind. +But he felt that he could not bear any +kindness just now. He must be somewhere +alone by himself.</p> + +<p>The drawing-room door was locked, but +the key was on the outside. He turned it +cautiously and went in. The room was +dark and fiercely cold. Bands of yellow fog +peered in over the tops of the shutters. The +room had been prepared the day before for +the consultation, but now it had returned to +its former shuttered, muffled state. John +took the key from the outside and locked +himself in.</p> + +<p>Then he flung himself on his face on to +one of the muffled settees and stuffed the +dust-sheet into his mouth. Anything not to +scream—a low strangled cry was wrenched +out of him; another and another, and<span class="pagenum">[205]</span> +another, but the dust sheet told no tales. +He dragged it down with him on to the +floor and bit into the wet, cobwebby material. +And by degrees the paroxysm passed. +The power to keep silence returned. At +last John sat up and looked round him, +breathing hard. A clock ticked in the +darkness, and presently struck a single +chime. Half-past something—half-past +eleven it must be—and they were coming +at twelve.</p> + +<p>Was there no help?</p> + +<p>"God," said John suddenly, in a low, +distinct voice in the darkness. "Do something. +If you don't stop it nobody else will. +You know you can if you like. You divided +the Red Sea. Remember all your plagues. +Oh, God! God! make something happen. +There's half an hour still. Think of him. +Both hands. And all the clever books he +was going to write, and all the things he<span class="pagenum">[206]</span> +was going to do. Oh, God! God! and <i>such</i> +a cricketer!"</p> + +<p>There was a short silence. John felt +absolutely certain God would answer. He +waited a long time, but no one spoke. The +fog deepened outside. The quarter struck +faintly from the church in the next street.</p> + +<p>"I give up one hand," said John, stretching +out both of his. "I only ask for one +now. Let him keep one—the other one. +He is so clever, he could soon learn to write +with his left, and perhaps hooks don't hurt +after the first. Oh, God! I dare say he +could manage with one, but not both, not +both."</p> + +<p>John repeated the last words over and +over again in an agony of supplication. He +would <i>make</i> God hear.</p> + +<p>It was growing very dark. The link-boys +were crying in the streets: a carriage stopped +at the door.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[207]</span></p> + +<p>"Oh, God! They're coming. Not both; +not both!" gasped John, and the sweat +broke from his forehead.</p> + +<p>Two more carriages—lowered voices in +the passage, and quiet footfalls going upstairs. +John prayed without ceasing. The +house had become very silent. At last the +silence awed him, and an overmastering +longing to know seized upon him. He stole +out of the drawing-room, and sped swiftly +upstairs. On the landing opposite Mr. +Goodwin's room the butler was standing +listening. Everything was quite still. John +could hear the gas burning. There was a +can of hot water just outside the door. +The steam curled upwards out of the +spout. As he reached the landing the +door was softly opened, and the nurse +raised the heavy can and lifted it into the +room.</p> + +<p>Through the open door came a hoarse<span class="pagenum">[208]</span> +inarticulate sound, which seemed to pierce +into John's brain.</p> + +<p>"Courage," said a gentle voice, and the +door was closed again. The butler breathed +heavily, and there was a whimper from the +upper landing. Trembling from head to +foot John fled down the stairs again unperceived +into the drawing-room, and crouched +down on the floor near the open door, turning +his face to the wall. Every now and +then a strong shudder passed over him, and +he beat his little black head dumbly against +the wall. But he did not move until at last +the doctors came down. He let the first +two pass, he could not speak to them; and +it was a long time before the father of Tom +and Edward appeared. John came suddenly +out upon him at the turn of the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Is it both?" he said, clutching his coat.</p> + +<p>"Both what, my boy?" said the doctor, +puzzled by the sudden onslaught, and looking<span class="pagenum">[209]</span> +down at the blackened convulsed face +and shaggy hair.</p> + +<p>"Both <i>hands</i>."</p> + +<p>The doctor hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said gravely. "I am grieved +to say it is." John flung up his arms.</p> + +<p>"I will never pray to God again as long +as I live," he said passionately.</p> + +<p>"John," said the doctor sternly, and then +suddenly putting out his hand to catch him +as he reeled backwards. "What? Good +gracious! The child has fainted."</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>John went back to school before the +holidays were over, for Miss Fane on her +return found it difficult to know what to do +with him. Mr. Goodwin came back no more. +He slowly regained a certain degree of +health, a ruined man, without private means, +at seven and twenty. John wrote constantly +to him, and wrote also long urgent letters<span class="pagenum">[210]</span> +in a large cramped hand to his trustees. +And something inadequate was done. When +he came of age his first action was to alter +that something, and to induce Mr. Goodwin +and the sister who lived with him to take +up their abode in the chaplain's house, in +the park at Overleigh, where they had +now been established nearly seven years. +Whether John's was an affectionate nature +or not it would be hard to say, for affection +had so far intermeddled little with his life; +but he had a kind of faithfulness, and a +memory of the heart as well as of the head. +John never forgot a kindness, never wholly +forgot an injury. He might forgive one, +for he showed as he grew towards man's +estate, and passed through the various +vicissitudes of school and college life, a +certain stern generosity of temper, and +contempt for small retaliations. He was +certainly not revengeful, but—he remembered.<span class="pagenum">[211]</span> +His mind was as tenacious of impression as +engraved steel. That very tenacity of impression +had given Mr. Goodwin an unbounded +influence over him in his early +youth. John had believed absolutely in Mr. +Goodwin; and Mr. Goodwin, hurried by a +bitter short cut of suffering from youth to +responsible middle age, had devoted himself +with the religious fervour of entire self-abnegation +to the boy for whom he had +risked his life. John's intense attachment +to him had after his recovery come as a +surprise to him, yoked with a sense of responsibility; +for to be loved in any fashion +is to incur a great responsibility.</p> + +<p>Mr. Goodwin acted according to his lights. +But the good intentions of others cannot +pave the way to heaven for us. In the +manner of many well-meaning teachers, Mr. +Goodwin used his influence over John to +impress upon him the stamp of his own<span class="pagenum">[212]</span> +narrow religious convictions. He honestly +believed it was the best thing he could do for +the young, strong, earnest nature which sat +at his feet. But John did not sit long. Mr. +Goodwin was aghast at the way in which +the little chains and check-strings of his +scheme of salvation were snapped like +thread when John began to rise to his feet. +An influence misused, if once shaken, is lost +for ever. John went away like a young +Samson, taking the poor weaver's inadequate +beam with him; and never came back. +Mr. Goodwin's teaching had done its work. +John never leaned again "on one mind overmuch." +Mr. Goodwin pushed him early +into scepticism, into which narrow teaching +pushes all independent natures, and regarded +his success with bitter disappointment. John +left him, and Mr. Goodwin's office others +took. Mr. Goodwin suffered horribly.</p> + +<p>John had not, of course, reached seven<span class="pagenum">[213]</span> +and twenty without passing through many +phases, each more painful to Mr. Goodwin +than the last. He had spoken fiercely at +Oxford on one occasion in favour of community +of goods, to the surprise and amusement +of his friends; and on one other single +occasion in support of the philosophy of +Kant, with which he did not agree, but +whose side he could not bear to see inefficiently +taken up only for the sake of refutation. +When the spirit moved him John +could be suddenly eloquent, but the spirit +very seldom did. As a rule he saw both +sides with equal clearness, and could be +forced into partisanship on neither. Those +who expected he would make a brilliant +speaker in the House of Commons would +probably be disappointed in him. It was +remarkable, considering he had apparently +no special talent or aptitude for any one +line of study, and had never particularly<span class="pagenum">[214]</span> +distinguished himself either at school or +college, that nevertheless he had unconsciously +raised in the minds of those who +knew him best, and many who knew him +not at all, a more or less vague expectation +that he would make his mark, that in some +fashion or other he would come to the fore.</p> + +<p>The abilities of persons with square jaws +are usually taken for granted by the crowd, +and certainly John's was square enough +to suggest any amount of reserved force. +But general expectation rarely falls on +those who have sufficient strength not only +to resist its baneful influence, but also to +realize its hopes. The effect of the expectation +of others on many minds is to draw into +greater activity that personal conceit which, +once indulged, saps the roots of individual +life, and gradually vitiates the powers. Conceit +is only mediocrity in the bud. Like a +blight in Spring it stunts the autumn fruit.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[215]</span></p> + +<p>On some natures again the expectation of +others acts as a stimulus, the force of which +is quite incalculable. It spurs a natural +humility into fixed resolution and self-reliance; +turns sloth into energy, earnestness +into action, and goads diffidence up the hill +of achievement. It has been truly said, that +"those who trust us educate us." Perhaps +it might be added that those who believe in +us make or destroy us.</p> + +<p>If John, who was perfectly aware of the +enthusiastic or grudging expectations that +others had formed of him, had not as yet +fallen into either of these two extremes, it +was probably because what others might +happen to think or not think concerning +him was of little moment to him, and had +no power to sway him either way.</p> + +<p>The thing of all others that puzzled John's +staunchest adherents was their inability to +fix him in any one set of opinions, social,<span class="pagenum">[216]</span> +political, or religious. Many after Mr. Goodwin +tried and failed. For John's great +wealth and position, besides the native force +of character of which even as a very young +man he gave signs, and an openness of mind +which encouraged while it ought to have disheartened +proselytism, all these attributes +had made him an object of interest and +importance, which would have ruined a more +self-conscious man. As it was, he listened, +got to the bottom of the subject, whatever it +might be, never left it till he had probed it +to the uttermost, and then went his way. +He marched out of every mental prison he +could be temporarily lured into. He would +go boldly into any that interested him, +but locks and bars would not hold him +directly he did not wish to stay there any +longer.</p> + +<p>Mr. Goodwin hoped against hope that +John would see the error of his ways, and<span class="pagenum">[217]</span> +"come back"; that, according to his mode +of expressing himself, the pride of the intellect +might be broken, and John might one +day be moved to return from the desert and +husks and the sw—— philosophy of free +thought to his father's home. He said something +of the kind one day to John, and was +astonished at the sudden flame that leapt +into the young man's eyes as he silently took +up his hat and went out.</p> + +<p>The one thing of all others which the Mr. +Goodwins of this world are incapable of +discerning, is that to leave an outgrown form +of faith is in itself an act of faith almost +beyond the strength of shrinking human +frailty. To bury a dead belief is hard. They +regard it invariably as a voluntary desertion, +not of their form of religion, but of religion +itself for private ends, or from a sense of +irksomeness. Mr. Goodwin had reproachfully +suggested that John had got into "a<span class="pagenum">[218]</span> +bad set" at Oxford, and was in the habit of +mixing in "doubtful society" in London. +Those whose surroundings have moulded +them attribute all mental changes in others +to a superficial and generally an entirely +inadequate influence such as would have had +power to affect themselves.</p> + +<p>John left the house white with anger. He +had been anxious and humble half an hour +before. He had listened sadly enough to +Mr. Goodwin's counsels, the old, old counsels +that fortunately always come too late—that +are worse than none, because they appeal to +motives of self-interest, safety, peace of mind, +etc.; the pharisaical reasoning that what has +been good enough for our fathers is good +enough for us.</p> + +<p>But now his anger was fierce against +his teacher, who was so quick to believe +evil of any development not of his own +fostering.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[219]</span></p> + +<p>"He calls good evil, and evil good," he +said to himself. "It seems to me I have +only got to lose hold of the best in me, and +lead a cheap goody-goody sort of life, and +I should please everybody all round, Mr. +Goodwin included. He wants me to remain +a child always. He would break my mind +to pieces now if he could, and would offer +up the little bits to God. He thinks the +voice of God in the heart is a temptation of +the devil. I will not silence it and crush it +down, as he wants me to do. I will love, +honour, and cherish it from this day forward, +for better for worse, for richer for poorer, +in sickness and in health."</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>There seems to be in life a call which +comes to a few only who, like the young man +in the Gospel, have great possessions. From +youth up the life may have been carefully +lived in certain well-worn grooves traced by<span class="pagenum">[220]</span> +the finger of God—grooves in which many +are allowed to pass their whole existence. +But to some among those many, to some +few with great mental possessions, the voice +comes sooner or later: "Forsake all, leave +all, and follow Me." How many turn away +sorrowful? They cannot believe in the +New Testament of the present day. They +ponder instead what God whispered eighteen +hundred years ago in the ear of a listening +Son, but they shrink from recognizing the +same voice speaking in their hearts now, +completing all that has gone before. And +so the point of life is missed. The individual +life, namely, the life of Christ—obedient not +to Scripture, but to the Giver of the Scripture—is +not lived. The life Christ led—at +variance with the recognized faiths and +fashionable opinions of the day, at variance +just because it did not conform to a dead +ritual, just because it was obedient throughout<span class="pagenum">[221]</span> +to a personal prompting—that life is not more +tolerated to-day than it was eighteen hundred +years ago. The Church will have none of +it—treats the first spark of it as an infidelity +to Christ Himself. Against every young +and ardent listening and questioning soul the +Church and the world combine, as in Our +Lord's day, to crucify once again the Christ—life +which is not of their kindling, which is +indeed an infidelity, but an infidelity only to +them. So the crucifix is raised high. The +sign of our great rejection of Him is deified; +the Mediator, the Saviour, the Redeemer is +honoured. The instrument of His death +is honoured; but the thought for the sake +of which He was content to stretch His +nailed hands upon it, His thought is without +honour.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Poor Mr. Goodwin! Poor John! Affection +had to struggle on as best it could as<span class="pagenum">[222]</span> +the years widened the gulf between them, +and was reduced to find a meagre subsistence +in cordial words and sympathy for neuralgia +on John's part, and interest in John's shooting +and hunting on Mr. Goodwin's. Affectionate +and easy terms were gradually re-established +between them, and a guarded sympathy on +general subjects returned; but Mr. Goodwin +knew that, from being "the friend of the +inner, he had become only the companion of +the outer life" of the person he cared for +most in the world, and the ways of Providence +appeared to him inscrutable. And now Mr. +Goodwin understood John even less at +seven and twenty than at twenty-one. The +conception of the possibility of a mind that +after being strongly influenced by a succession +of the most "dangerous" teachers and books, +gives final allegiance to none, and can at last +elect to stand alone, was impossible to Mr. +Goodwin. And yet John arrived at that<span class="pagenum">[223]</span> +simple and natural result at which those +who have sincerely and humbly searched for +a law and an authority outside themselves +do arrive. An external authority is soon +seen to be too good to be true. There +is no court of appeal against the verdict +of the inexorable judge who dwells +within.</p> + +<p>How many rush hither and thither and +wear down the patience of earnest counsellors, +and whittle away all the best years of their +lives to nothingness, in fretting and scratching +among ruins for the law by which they +may live! They look for it in Bibles, in the +minds of anxious friends who turn over +everything to help them, in the face of +Nature, who betrays the knowledge of the +secret in her eyes, but who utters it not. +And last of all a remnant of the many look +in their own hearts, where the great law of +life has been hidden from the beginning.<span class="pagenum">[224]</span> +David says: "Yea, Thy law is within my +heart." A greater than David said the same. +But it is buried deep, and few there be that +find it.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i-ep10.jpg" width="500" height="264" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chapter" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[225]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i-ch11.jpg" width="600" height="184" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"Still as of old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man by himself is priced.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thirty pieces Judas sold<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Himself, not Christ."<br /></span> +<span class="i10">H.C.C.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/drop_l.jpg" width="80" height="82" alt="L" /> +<span class="hide">L</span>ENT gave way to Easter, and Easter +melted into the season, and Mrs. +Courtenay gave a little dinner-party, at +which John was one of the guests; and +Madeleine was presented on her marriage; +and Di had two new gowns, and renovated +an old one, and nearly broke Lord Hemsworth's +heart by refusing the box-seat on +his drag at the meeting of the Four-in-hand; +and Lord Hemsworth did not invest in the<span class="pagenum">[226]</span> +bay mare with the white stocking, but turned +heaven and earth to find another with black +points, and succeeded, only to drive in lonely +bitterness to the meet. And John was to +have been there also, but he had been so +severely injured in a fire which broke out +at his lodgings, in the room below his, three +weeks before, that he was still lying helpless +at the house in Park Lane, which he had lent +to his aunt, Miss Fane, and whither he was +at once taken, after the accident, to struggle +slowly back to life and painful convalescence.</p> + +<p>For the last three weeks, since the fire, +hardly any one had seen Colonel Tempest. +The old horror had laid hold upon him like +a mortal sickness. Sleep had left him. Remorse +looked at him out of the eyes of the +passers in the street. There was no refuge. +He avoided his club. What might he not +hear there! What might not have happened +in the night! He could trust himself to go<span class="pagenum">[227]</span> +nowhere for fear of his face betraying him. +He wandered aimlessly out in the evenings +in the lonelier portions of the Park. Sometimes +he would stop his loitering, to follow +with momentary interest the children sailing +their boats on the Round Pond, and then +look up and see the veiled London sunset +watching him from behind Kensington +Palace, and turn away with a guilty sense +of detection. The aimless days and waking +ghosts of nights came and went, came and +went, until his misery became greater than +he could bear. The resolutions of the weak +are as much the result of the period of feeble, +apathetic inertia that precedes them, as the +resolutions of the strong are the outcome of +earnest reflection and mental travail.</p> + +<p>"It will kill me if it goes on," he said to +himself. There was one way, and one only, +by means of which this intolerable weight +might be shifted from his shoulders. He<span class="pagenum">[228]</span> +hung back many days. He said he could +not do <i>that</i>, anything but <i>that</i>—and then he +did it.</p> + +<p>His heart beat painfully as he turned his +steps towards Park Lane, and he hesitated +many minutes before he mounted the steps +and rang the bell at the familiar door of the +Tempest town-house, where his father had +lived during the session, where his mother +had spent the last years of her life after his +death.</p> + +<p>It was an old-fashioned house. The iron +rings into which the links used to be thrust +still flanked the ponderous doorway, together +with the massive extinguisher.</p> + +<p>The servant informed him that Mr. Tempest +had been out of danger for some days, +but was not seeing any one at present.</p> + +<p>"Ask if he will see me," said Colonel +Tempest, hoarsely. "Say I am waiting."</p> + +<p>The man left him in the white stone hall<span class="pagenum">[229]</span> +where he and his brother Jack had played +as boys. The dappled rocking-horse used +to stand under the staircase, but it was no +longer there: given away, no doubt, or +broken up for firewood. John might have +kept the poor old rocking-horse. Recollections +that took the form of personal grievances +were never far from Colonel Tempest's +mind.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes the man returned, and +said that Mr. Tempest would see him, and +led the way upstairs. A solemn, melancholy-looking +valet was waiting for him, who +respectfully informed him that the doctor's +orders were that his master should be kept +very quiet, and should not be excited in any +way. Colonel Tempest nodded unheeding, +and was conscious of a door being opened, +and his name announced.</p> + +<p>He went forward hesitatingly into a half-darkened +room.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[230]</span></p> + +<p>"Pull up the further blind, Marshall," said +John's voice. The servant did so, and +noiselessly left the room.</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest's heart smote him.</p> + +<p>The young man lay quite motionless, his +dark head hardly raised, his swathed hands +stretched out beside him. His unshaved +face had the tension of protracted suffering, +and the grave steady eyes which met Colonel +Tempest's were bright with suppressed pain. +The eyes were the only things that moved. +It seemed to Colonel Tempest that if they +were closed—. He shuddered involuntarily. +In his morbid fancy the prostrate figure +seemed to have already taken the rigid lines +of death, the winding-sheet to be even now +drawn up round the young haggard face.</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest was not gifted with +imagination where he himself was not concerned. +He was under the impression that +the influenza, from which he occasionally<span class="pagenum">[231]</span> +suffered, was the most excruciating form of +mortal illness known to mankind. He never +believed people were really ill until they +were dead. Now he realized for the first +time that John had been at death's door; +that is to say, he realized what being at +death's door was like, and he was fairly +staggered!</p> + +<p>"Good God, John!" he said with a sort +of groan. "I did not know it had been as +bad as this."</p> + +<p>"Sit down," said John, as the nurse +brought forward a chair to the bedside, and +then withdrew, eyeing the new-comer suspiciously. +"It is much better now. I receive +callers. Hemsworth was here yesterday. +I can shake hands a little; only be very +gentle with me. I cry like a girl if I am +more than touched."</p> + +<p>John feebly raised and held out a bandaged +hand, of which the end of three fingers only<span class="pagenum">[232]</span> +were visible. Colonel Tempest, whose own +feelings were invariably too deep to admit +of his remembering those of others, pressed +it spasmodically in his.</p> + +<p>"It goes to my heart to see you like +this, John," he said with a break in his voice.</p> + +<p>John withdrew his hand. His face +twitched a little, and he bit his lip, but in +a few moments he spoke again firmly +enough.</p> + +<p>"It is very good of you to come. Now +that I have got round the corner, I shall be +about again in no time."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said Colonel Tempest, as if +reassuring himself. "You will be all right +again soon."</p> + +<p>"You look knocked up," said John, considering +him attentively with his dark +earnest gaze.</p> + +<p>"Do I?" said Colonel Tempest. "I dare +say I do. Yes, people may not notice it as<span class="pagenum">[233]</span> +a rule. I keep things to myself, always have +done all my life, but—it will drag me into my +grave if it goes on much longer, I know that."</p> + +<p>"If what goes on?"</p> + +<p>It is all very well for a nervous rider to +look boldly at a hedge two fields away, but +when he comes up with it, and feels his +horse quicken his pace under him, he begins +to wonder what the landing on the invisible +other side will be like. There was a +long silence, broken only by Lindo, John's +Spanish poodle, who, ensconced in an armchair +by the bedside, was putting an aristocratic +and extended hind leg through an +afternoon toilet by means of searching and +sustained suction.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose there is a more wretched +man in the world than I am, John," said +Colonel Tempest at last.</p> + +<p>"There is something on your mind, +perhaps."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[234]</span></p> + +<p>"Night and day," said Colonel Tempest, +wishing John would not watch him so +closely. "I have not a moment's peace."</p> + +<p>"You are in money difficulties," said John, +justly divining the only cause that was likely +to permanently interfere with his uncle's +peace of mind.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Colonel Tempest. "I am at +my wit's end, and that is the truth."</p> + +<p>John's lips tightened a little, and he remained +silent. That was why his uncle had +come to see him then. His pride revolted +against Colonel Tempest's want of it, against +Archie's sponge-like absorption of all John +would give him. He felt (and it was no +idle fancy of a wealthy man) that he would +have died rather than have asked for a +shilling. A Tempest should be above +begging, should scorn to run in debt. +John's pride of race resented what was +in his eyes a want of honour in the other<span class="pagenum">[235]</span> +members of the family of which he was the +head.</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest was in a position of too +much delicacy not to feel hurt by John's +silence. He reflected on the invariable +meanness of rich men, with a momentary +retrospect of how open-handed he had been +himself in his youth, and even after his +crippling marriage.</p> + +<p>"I do not know the circumstances," said +John at last.</p> + +<p>"No one does," said Colonel Tempest.</p> + +<p>"Neither have I any wish to know them," +said John, with a touch of haughtiness, +"except in so far as I can be of use to you."</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest found himself very disagreeably +placed. He would have instantly +lost his temper if he had been a few weeks +younger, but the memory of those last few +weeks recurred to him like a douche of cold +water. Self-interest would not allow him<span class="pagenum">[236]</span> +to throw away his last chance of escaping +out of Swayne's clutches, and he had a secret +conviction that no storming or passion of +any kind would have any effect on that +prostrate figure, with the stern feeble voice, +and intense fixity of gaze.</p> + +<p>John had always felt a secret repulsion +towards his uncle, though he invariably met +him with grave, if distant civility. He had +borne in a proud silence the gradual realization, +as he grew old enough to understand +it, that there was a slur upon his name, +a shadow on his mother's memory. He +believed, as did some others, that his uncle +had originated the slanders, impossible to +substantiate, in order to wrest his inheritance +from him. How could this man, +after trying to strip him of everything, +even of his name, come to him now for +money?</p> + +<p>John had a certain rigidity and tenacity<span class="pagenum">[237]</span> +of mind, an uprightness and severity, which +come of an intense love of justice and rectitude, +but which in an extreme degree, if +not counterbalanced by other qualities, make +a hard and unlovable character.</p> + +<p>His clear-eyed judgment made him look +at Colonel Tempest with secret indignation +and contempt. But with the harshness of +youth other qualities, rarely joined, went +hand in hand. A little knowledge of others +is a dangerous thing. It shows itself in +sweeping condemnations and severe judgments, +and a complacent holding up to the +light of the poor foibles and peccadilloes of +humanity, which all who will can find. A +greater knowledge shows itself in a greater +tenderness towards others, the tenderness, +as some suppose, of wilful ignorance of evil. +When or how John had learnt it I know +not, but certainly he had a rapid intuition +of the feelings of others; he could put himself<span class="pagenum">[238]</span> +in their place, and to do that is to be +not harsh.</p> + +<p>He looked again at Colonel Tempest, +and was ashamed of his passing, though +righteous, anger. He realized how hard it +must be for an older man to be obliged to +ask a young one for money, and he had +no wish to make it any harder. He looked +at the weak, wretched face, with its tortured +selfishness, and understood a little; perhaps +only in part, but enough to make him speak +again in a different tone.</p> + +<p>"Do not tell me anything you do not +wish; but I see something is troubling +you very much. Sometimes things don't +look so black when one has talked them +over."</p> + +<p>"I can't talk it over, John," said Colonel +Tempest, with incontestable veracity, +softened by the kindness of his tone, "but +the truth is," nervousness was shutting its<span class="pagenum">[239]</span> +eyes and making a rush, "I want—<i>ten +thousand pounds and no questions asked</i>."</p> + +<p>John was startled. Colonel Tempest +clutched his hat, and stared out of the +window. He felt benumbed. He had +actually done it, actually brought himself to +ask for it. As his faculties slowly returned +to him in the long silence which followed, +he became conscious, that if John was too +niggardly to pay his own ransom, he, +Colonel Tempest, would not be the most +to blame, if any casualty should hereafter +occur.</p> + +<p>At last John spoke.</p> + +<p>"You say you don't want any questions +asked, but I <i>must</i> ask one or two. You +want this money secretly. Would the want +of it bring disgrace upon your—children?" +He had nearly said your "daughter."</p> + +<p>"If it was found out it would," said +Colonel Tempest, in a choked voice. The<span class="pagenum">[240]</span> +detection, which he always told himself was +an impossibility, had, nevertheless, a horrible +way of masquerading before him at intervals +as an accomplished fact.</p> + +<p>John knit his brows.</p> + +<p>"I can't pretend not to know what it is," +he said. "It is a debt of honour. You +have been betting."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Colonel Tempest, faintly.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you can't touch your capital. +That is settled on your children."</p> + +<p>"No," said Colonel Tempest. "There +were no settlements when I married. I had +to do the best I could. I had twenty +thousand pounds from my father, and my +wife brought me a few thousands after her +uncle's death; a very few, which her relations +could not prevent her having. But +there were the children, and one thing with +another, and women are extravagant, and +must have everything to their liking; and<span class="pagenum">[241]</span> +by the time I had settled up and sold everything +after the break-up, it was all I could +do to put Archie to school."</p> + +<p>(Oh! Di, Di, cold in your grave these +two and twenty years! Do you remember +the little pile of account books that you +wound up, and put in your writing-table +drawer, that last morning in April, thinking +that if anything happened, he would find +them there—afterwards. He had always +inveighed against the meanness of your +economy before the servants, and against +your extravagance in private. Do you remember +the butcher's book, with thin +blotting paper, that blotted tears as badly +as ink sometimes, for meat was dear; and +the milk bills? You were always proud +of the milk bills, with the space for cream +left blank, except when he was there. And +the little book of sundries, where those +quarter pounds of fresh butter and French<span class="pagenum">[242]</span> +rolls, were entered, which Anne ran out to +get if he came home suddenly, because he +did not like the cheap butter from the Stores. +Do you remember these things? He +never knew, he never looked at the dumb +reproach of that little row of books: but I +cannot think, wherever you are, that you +have quite forgotten them.)</p> + +<p>John was silent again. How could he +deal with this man who roused in him such +a vehement indignation? For several +minutes he could not trust himself to speak.</p> + +<p>"I think I had better go," said Colonel +Tempest at last.</p> + +<p>John started violently.</p> + +<p>"No, no," he said. "Wait. Let me +think."</p> + +<p>The nurse and his aunt came into the +room at that moment.</p> + +<p>"Are not you feeling tired, sir?" the +nurse inquired, warningly.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[243]</span></p> + +<p>"Yes, John," said Miss Fane, grunting as +her manner was. "Mustn't get tired."</p> + +<p>"I am not," he replied. "Colonel Tempest +and I are discussing business matters +which won't wait—which it would trouble +me to leave unsettled. We have not quite +finished, but he is more tired than I am. +It is the hottest day we have had. Will +you give him a cup of tea, Aunt Flo, and +bring him back in half an hour."</p> + +<p>When he was left alone John turned his +head painfully on the pillow, and slowly +opened and shut one of the bandaged hands. +This not altogether satisfactory form of +exercise was the only substitute he had +within his power for the old habit of pacing +up and down while he thought.</p> + +<p>Ought he to give the money? He had +no right to make a bad use of anything +because he happened to have a good deal +of it. This ten thousand would follow the<span class="pagenum">[244]</span> +previous twenty thousand, as a matter of +course.</p> + +<p>Giving it did not affect himself, inasmuch +as he would hardly miss it. It was a +generous action only in appearance, for he +was very wealthy; even among the rich he +was very rich. His long minority, and +various legacies of younger branches, which +had shown the Tempest peculiarity of dying +out, and leaving their substance to the head +of the family, had added to an already imposing +income. In his present mode of life +he did not spend a third of it.</p> + +<p>The thought flashed across his mind that +if he had died three weeks ago, if the hinges +of the door had held as firmly as the shot +lock, and he had perished in that room in +King Street like a rat in a trap, Colonel +Tempest would at this very moment have +been in possession of everything. He +looked at his own death, and all it would +have entailed, dispassionately.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[245]</span></p> + +<p>That improvident selfish man had been +within an ace of immense wealth. And yet—John's +heart smote him—his uncle had +been genuinely grieved to see him so ill: +had been really thankful to think he was +out of danger. He had almost immediately +afterwards reverted to himself and his own +affairs; but that was natural to the man. +He had nevertheless been unaffectedly overcome +the moment before. The emotion had +been genuine.</p> + +<p>John struggled hard against his strong +personal dislike.</p> + +<p>Perhaps Colonel Tempest had become +entangled in the money difficulty at the very +time his—John's—life hung in the balance, +when he took for granted he was about to +inherit all. The speculation was heartless, +perhaps, but pardonable. John saw no +reason why Colonel Tempest should not +have counted on his death. For ten days<span class="pagenum">[246]</span> +it had been more than probable; and now +he might live to a hundred. Perhaps the +probability of his reaching old age was +slenderer than he supposed.</p> + +<p>He lay a little while longer and then rang +the bell near his hand, and directed his +servant to bring him a locked feminine +elegancy from a side-table which, until he +could replace his burnt possessions, had +evidently been lent him by his aunt to use +as a despatch-box. He got out a cheque-book, +and with clumsy fingers filled in and +signed a cheque. Then he lay back panting +and exhausted. The will was strong in him, +but the suffering body was desperately weak.</p> + +<p>When Colonel Tempest returned, John +held the cheque towards him in silence with +a feeble smile.</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest took it without speaking. +His lips shook. He was more moved than +he had been for years.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[247]</span></p> + +<p>"God bless you, John," he said at last. +"You are a good fellow, and I don't deserve +it from you."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," said John, in a more natural +tone of voice than he had yet used towards +him. "If you are at the polo match on +Thursday, will you look in and tell me how +it has gone? It would be a kindness to me. +I know Archie and Hemsworth are playing." +Colonel Tempest murmured something unintelligible, +and went out.</p> + +<p>He did not go back at once to his rooms +in Brook Street. Almost involuntarily his +steps turned towards the Park. The world +was changed for him. The weary ceaseless +beat of the horses' hoofs on the wood pavement +had a cheerful exhilarating ring. All +the people looked glad. There was a confused +rejoicing in the rustle of the trees, in +the flying voices of the children playing and +rolling in the grass. He wandered down<span class="pagenum">[248]</span> +towards the Serpentine. Dogs were rushing +in and out of the water. An elastic cockeared +retriever, undepressed by its doubtful +ancestry, was leaping and waving a wet tail at +its master, giving the short sharp barks of +youth and a light heart. An aristocratic pug +in a belled collar was delicately sniffing the +evening breeze across the water, watching +the antics of the lower orders with protruding +eyes like pieces of toffy rounded and glazed +by suction. An equally aristocratic black +poodle—Lindo out for a stroll with the valet—with +more social tendencies, was hurrying +up and down on the extreme verge, beckoning +rapidly with its short tufted tail to the +athletes in the water. The ducks bobbed +on the ripples. The children sprawled and +shouted and clambered. The low sun had +laid a dancing, glancing pathway across +the water. How glad it all was, how exceeding +glad! Colonel Tempest patted<span class="pagenum">[249]</span> +one of the children on the head and felt +benevolent.</p> + +<p>As he turned away at last and sauntered +homewards, he passed a little knot of people +gathered round a gesticulating open-air +preacher. Two girls, arm in arm, just in +front of him, were lounging near, talking +earnestly together.</p> + +<p>"Sin no more lest a worse thing come +unto thee," bawled the strident fanatic voice.</p> + +<p>"I shall have mine trimmed with tulle, +and a flower on the crown," said one of the +girls.</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest walked slowly on. Yes, +yes; that was it. <i>Sin no more lest a worse +thing come unto thee.</i> He had always dreaded +that worse thing, and now that fear was all +over. He translated the cry of the preacher +into a message to himself, his first personal +transaction with the Almighty. He felt +awed. It was like a voice from another<span class="pagenum">[250]</span> +world. Religion was becoming a reality to +him at last. There are still persons for +whom the Law and the Prophets are not +enough—who require that one should rise +from the dead to galvanize their superstition +into momentary activity. Sin no more. No—never +any more. He had done with sin. He +would make a fresh start from to-day, and +life would become easy and unembarrassed +and enjoyable once again; no more nightmares +and wakeful nights and nervous +haunting terrors. They were all finished +and put away. The tears came into his +eyes. He regretted that he had not enjoyed +these comfortable feelings earlier in life. +The load was lifted from his heart, and the +removal of the pain was like a solemn joy.</p> + +<hr class="chapter" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[251]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i-ch12.jpg" width="600" height="189" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"On entre, on crie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">C'est la vie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On crie, on sort,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">C'est la mort."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/drop_o.jpg" width="80" height="80" alt="O" /> +<span class="hide">O</span>N the paths of self-interest the grass is +seldom allowed to grow under the +feet. Colonel Tempest hurried. It would +be tedious to follow the various steps +feverishly taken which led to his finally +unearthing the home address of Mr. Swayne. +He procured it at last, not without expense, +from an impoverished client of that gentleman +who had lately been in correspondence with +him. Mr. Swayne had always shown a +decided reticence with regard to the locality<span class="pagenum">[252]</span> +of his domestic roof. Colonel Tempest was +of course in possession of several addresses +where letters would find him, but his experience +of such addresses had been that, unless +strictly connected with pecuniary advantage +to Mr. Swayne, the letters did not seem to +reach their destination. But now, even when +Colonel Tempest wrote to say he would pay +up, no answer came. Swayne did not rise +even to that bait. Colonel Tempest, who +was aware that Mr. Swayne's faith in human +nature had in the course of his career sustained +several severe shocks, came to the conclusion +that Mr. Swayne did not attach importance +to his statement—that indeed he regarded it +only as a "blind" in order to obtain another +interview.</p> + +<p>It was on a burning day in June that +Colonel Tempest set forth to search out his +tempter at Rosemont Villa, Iron Ferry, in +the manufacturing town of Bilgewater. The<span class="pagenum">[253]</span> +dirty smudged address was in his pocket-book, +as was also the notice of his banker +that ten thousand pounds had been placed to +his credit a few days before.</p> + +<p>The London train took him to Worcester, +and from thence the local line, after meandering +through a desert of grime and chimneys, +and after innumerable stoppages at one +hideous nigger station after another, finally +deposited him on the platform of Bilgewater +Junction. Colonel Tempest got out and +looked about him. It was not a rural scene. +Heaps of refuse and slag lay upon the +blistered land thick as the good resolutions +that pave a certain road. Low cottages +crowded each other in knots near the high +smoking factories. Black wheels turned +slowly against the grey of the sky, which +whitened upwards towards the ghost of the +midsummer sun high in heaven. We are +told that the sun shines equally on the just<span class="pagenum">[254]</span> +and on the unjust; but that was said before +the first factory was built. At Bilgewater it +is no longer so.</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest inquired his way to Iron +Ferry, and, vaguely surprised at Mr. +Swayne's choice of locality for his country +residence, set out along the baked wrinkles +of the black high-road, winding between +wastes of cottages, some inhabited and showing +dreary signs of life, some empty and +decrepit, some fallen down dead. The heat +was intense. The steam and the smoke +rose together into the air like some evil +sacrifice. The pulses of the factories +throbbed feverishly as he passed. The +steam curled upwards from the surface of the +livid pools and canals at their base. The +very water seemed to sweat.</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest reached Iron Ferry, +being guided thither by the spire of the little +tin church, which pointed unheeded towards<span class="pagenum">[255]</span> +the low steel sky, shut down over the +battered convulsed country like a coffin lid +over one who has died in torment.</p> + +<p>At Iron Ferry, which had a bridge and a +wharf and a canal, and was everything +except a ferry, he inquired again concerning +Rosemont Villa, and was presently picking +his way across a little patch of common +towards a string of what had once been red +brick houses, but which had long since +embraced the universal colour of their +surroundings. They were rather better +looking houses if a sort of shabby gentility +can be called anything except the worst. +They were semi-detached. From out of +one of them the strains were issuing faintly +and continuously of the inevitable accordion, +which for some occult reason is always +found to consort with poverty and oyster-shells.</p> + +<p>At the open door of another a girl was<span class="pagenum">[256]</span> +standing tearing pieces with her teeth out of +a chunk of something she held in her hand. +She was surrounded by a meagre family of +poultry who fought and pecked and trod +each other down with almost human eagerness +for the occasional morsels she threw to +them. Something in her appearance and in +the way she seemed to enjoy the greed and +mutual revilings of her little dependents +reminded Colonel Tempest—he hardly knew +why—of Mr. Swayne.</p> + +<p>Another glance made the supposition a +certainty. There were the small boot-buttons +of eyes, the heavy mottled expressionless +face, which Colonel Tempest had +until now considered to be the exclusive +property of Mr. Swayne. This slouching, +tawdry down-at-heel arrow was no doubt one +of that gentleman's quiverful.</p> + +<p>Mr. Swayne had always worn such very +unmarried waistcoats and button holes that it<span class="pagenum">[257]</span> +was a shock to Colonel Tempest to regard +him as a domestic character.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Swayne at home?" he asked, +amid the cackling and flouncing of the +poultry.</p> + +<p>The "arrow," her cheek "bulged with the +unchewed piece," looked at him doubtfully +for a moment, and then called over her +shoulder—</p> + +<p>"Mother!"</p> + +<p>The voice as of a female who had never +been held in subjection answered shrilly from +within—"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Here's a gent as wants to see father."</p> + +<p>There was a sound of some heavy vessel +being set down, and a woman, large and +swarthy, came to the door. She might have +been good-looking once. She might perhaps +have been "a fine figure of a woman" in the +days when Swayne wooed and won her, and +no doubt her savings, for his own. But<span class="pagenum">[258]</span> +possibly the society of Mr. Swayne may not +in the long run have exerted an ennobling or +even a soothing influence upon her. Her +complexion was a fiery red, and her whole +appearance bespoke a temperament to which +the artificial stimulus of alcohol, though evidently +unnecessary, was evidently not denied.</p> + +<p>"Swayne's sick," she said, eyeing Colonel +Tempest with distrust. "He can't see no +one, and if he could, there's not a shilling in +the house if you was to scrape the walls with +a knife—so that's all about it. It's no +manner of use coming pestering here for +money."</p> + +<p>"I don't want money," said Colonel Tempest. +"I want to pay, not to be paid."</p> + +<p>The woman shook her head incredulously, +and put out her under lip, uttering the mystic +word, "Walker!" It did not seem to bear +upon the subject, but somebody, probably +the accordion next door, laughed.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[259]</span></p> + +<p>"I must see him!" said Colonel Tempest, +vehemently. "I've had dealings with him +which I want to settle and have done with. +It's my own interest to pay up. He would +see me directly if he knew I was here."</p> + +<p>The woman hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Swayne is uncommon sick," she said, +slowly. "If it's business I doubt he could +scarce fettle at it now."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean he is not sober?"</p> + +<p>"He's sober enough, poor fellow," said +Mrs. Swayne, with momentary sympathy; +"but he's mortal bad. He hasn't done +nobbut but dithered with a bit of toast since +Tuesday, and taking it out of hisself all the +time with flouncing and swearing like a brute +beast."</p> + +<p>"Is he—do you mean to say he is +<i>dying</i>?" demanded Colonel Tempest in +sudden panic.</p> + +<p>"Doctor says he won't hang on above a<span class="pagenum">[260]</span> +day or two," said the girl nonchalantly. +"Doctor says his works is clean wore out."</p> + +<p>"Let me go to him at once," said Colonel +Tempest. "It is of great importance; I +must see him at once."</p> + +<p>The women stared at each other undecidedly, +and the girl nudged her mother.</p> + +<p>"Lor, mother, what does it signify? If +the gentleman 'ull make it worth while, +show him up."</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest hastily produced a sovereign, +and in a few minutes was stumbling +up the rickety stairs behind Mrs. Swayne. +She pushed open a half-closed door, and +noisily pulled back a bit of curtain which +shaded the light—what poor dim light there +was—from the bed, knocking over as she +did so a tallow candle in the window-sill +bent double by the heat.</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest had followed her into +the room and into an atmosphere resembling<span class="pagenum">[261]</span> +that of the monkey-house at the Zoo, stiffened +with brandy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, good gracious!" he ejaculated, as +Mrs. Swayne drew back the curtain. "Oh +dear, Mrs. Swayne! I ought to have been +prepared. I had no idea—— What's the +matter with him? What is he writing on +the wall?"</p> + +<p>For Mr. Swayne was changed. He was +within a measurable distance of being unrecognizable. +That evidently would be the +next alteration not for the better in him. +Already he was slow to recognize others. +He was sitting up in bed, swearing and +scratching tearfully at the wall-paper. He +looked stouter than ever, but as if he might +collapse altogether at a pin prick, and shrivel +down to a wrinkled nothing among the +creases of his tumbled bedding.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Swayne regarded her prostrate lord +with arms akimbo. Possibly she considered<span class="pagenum">[262]</span> +that her part of the agreement, to love and +to cherish Mr. Swayne, and honour and +obey Mr. Swayne, was now at an end, as +death was so plainly about to part them. +At any rate, she appeared indisposed to add +any finishing touches to her part of the contract. +Mr. Swayne had, in all probability, +put in his finishing touches with such vigour, +that possibly a remembrance of them accounted +for a certain absence of solicitude +on the part of his helpmeet.</p> + +<p>"Who's this? Who's this? Who's this?" +said Mr. Swayne in a rapid whisper, perceiving +his visitor, and peering out of the +gloom with a bloodshot furtive eye. "Dear, +dear, dear! ... Mary ... I'm busy ... +I'm pressed for time. Take him away. +Quite away; quite away."</p> + +<p>Mr. Swayne had been a man of few and +evil words when in health. His recording +angel would now need a knowledge of short<span class="pagenum">[263]</span>hand. +This sudden flow of language fairly +staggered Colonel Tempest.</p> + +<p>"I must have out those bonds," he went +on, forgetting his visitor again instantly. "I +can't lay my hand on 'em, but I've got 'em +somewhere. Top left-hand drawer of the +walnut escritoire. I know I have 'em. I'll +make him bleed. Top left-hand. No, no, +no. Where was it, then? Lock's stiff;—— +the lock. Break it. I say I will have 'em."</p> + +<p>As he spoke he tore from under the pillow +a little footstool, having the remnant of a +frayed dog, in blue beads, worked upon it, +a conjugal attention no doubt on the part of +Mrs. Swayne, to raise the sick man's head.</p> + +<p>And Mr. Swayne, after endeavouring to +unlock the dog's tail, smote savagely upon +it, and sank back with chattering teeth.</p> + +<p>"That's the way he goes on," said Mrs. +Swayne. "Mornin', noon, and night. Never +a bit of peace, except when he gets into his<span class="pagenum">[264]</span> +prayin' fits. I expect he'll go off in one of +them tantrums."</p> + +<p>It did not appear unlikely that he would +"go off" then and there, but after a few +moments a sort of ghastly life seemed to +return. Even death did not appear to take +to him. He opened his eyes, and looked +round bewildered. Then his head fell +forward.</p> + +<p>"Now's yer time," said the woman. +"Before he gets up steam for another of +them rages. Parson comes and twitters a +bit when he's in this way; and he'll pray +very heavy while he recollects hisself, until +he goes off again. He'll be better now for +a spell," and she left the room, and creaked +ponderously downstairs again. Colonel +Tempest advanced a step nearer the lair on +which poor Swayne was taking his last rest +but one, and said faintly:</p> + +<p>"Swayne. I say, Swayne. Rouse up."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[265]</span></p> + +<p>The only things that roused up were +Swayne's eyelids. These certainly trembled +a little.</p> + +<p>In the next house the accordion was beginning +a new tune, was designating Jerusalem +as its ha-appy home.</p> + +<p>Apprehensive terror for himself as usual +overcame other feelings. It overcame in +this instance the unspeakable repugnance +Colonel Tempest felt to approaching any +nearer. He touched the prostrate man on +the shoulder with the slender white hand +which had served him so exclusively from +boyhood upwards, which had never wavered +in its fidelity to him to do a hand's turn +for others, which shrinkingly did his bidding +now.</p> + +<p>"Wake up, Swayne," repeated Colonel +Tempest, actually stooping over him. +"Wake up, for——," he was going to add +"heaven's sake;" but the thought of heaven<span class="pagenum">[266]</span> +in connection with Swayne seemed inappropriate; +and he altered it to "for mercy's +sake," which sounded just as well.</p> + +<p>"Is it the parson?" asked Swayne feebly, +in a more natural voice.</p> + +<p>"No, no," said Colonel Tempest reassuringly. +"It's only me, a friend. It's Colonel +Tempest."</p> + +<p>"I wish it <i>was</i> the parson," repeated +Swayne, seeming to emerge somewhat from +his torpor. "He might have come and let +off a few more prayers for me. He says it's +all right if I repent, and I suppose he knows; +but it don't seem likely. Don't seem as if +God <i>could</i> be greened quite as easy as parson +makes out. I should have liked to throw +off a few more prayers so as to be on the +safe side," and he began to mutter incoherently.</p> + +<p>As a man lives so, it is said, he generally +dies. Swayne seemed to remain true to his<span class="pagenum">[267]</span> +own interests, only his aspect of those +interests had altered. He felt the awkwardness +of going into court absolutely unprepared. +Prayer was cheap if it could do what he +wanted, and he had had professional advice +as to its efficacy. A man who all his life +can grovel before his fellow-creatures, may +as well do a little grovelling before his +Creator at the last, if anything is to be got +by it.</p> + +<p>It is to the credit of human nature that, +as a rule, men even of the lowest type feel +the uselessness, the degradation, of trying +to annul their past on their deathbeds. But +to Swayne, who had never shone as a credit +to human nature, a chance remained a chance. +He was a gambler and a swindler, a man +who had risked long odds, and had been +made rich and poor by the drugging of a +horse, or the forcing of a card. If, in his +strict attention to never losing a chance, he<span class="pagenum">[268]</span> +had inadvertently mislaid his soul, he was +not likely to be aware of it. But a <i>chance</i> +was a thing he had never so far failed to +take advantage of. He was taking his last +now.</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest looked at him in horror. +The interests of the two men clashed, and +at a vital moment.</p> + +<p>"For God's sake don't pray now, Swayne," +said Colonel Tempest, appealingly, as Swayne +began to mutter something more. "I've +come to set wrong right, and that will be a +great deal better than any prayers; do you +more good in the end."</p> + +<p>Swayne did not seem to understand. He +looked in a perplexed manner at Colonel +Tempest.</p> + +<p>"I don't appear to fetch it out right," he +said. "But it's in the Prayer-book on the +mantelpiece. That's what our parson reads +out of. You get it, colonel; just get it quick,<span class="pagenum">[269]</span> +and pray 'em off one after another. It don't +matter much which. They're all good."</p> + +<p>"Swayne," said Colonel Tempest, in utter +desperation, "I'll do anything; I'll—pray +as much as you like afterwards, if you will +only give me up those papers you have +against me—those bets."</p> + +<p>"What?" said Swayne, a gleam of the old +professional interest flickering into his face. +"You han't got the money?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Here, here!" and Colonel Tempest +tore the banker's note out of his pocket-book, +and held it before Swayne's eyes.</p> + +<p>"I was to have had twenty-five per cent. +commission," said Swayne, rallying perceptibly +at the thought. "Twenty-five per +cent. on each. I wouldn't let 'em go at less. +Two thousand five hundred I should have +made. But"—with a sudden restless relapse—"it's +no use thinking of that now. Get +down the book, colonel."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[270]</span></p> + +<p>But for once Colonel Tempest was firm.</p> + +<p>Perhaps his indignation against Swayne's +egotism enabled him to be so. He made +Swayne understand that business must in +this instance come first, and prayers afterwards. +It was a compact; not the first +between the two.</p> + +<p>"The papers," he repeated over and over +again, frantic at the speed with which the +last links of Swayne's memory seemed falling +from him. "Where are they? You have +them with you, of course? Tell me where +they are?" and he grasped the dying man +by the shoulder.</p> + +<p>Swayne was frightened back to some +semblance of effort.</p> + +<p>"I haven't got 'em," he gasped. "The—the—the +chaps engaged in the business have +'em."</p> + +<p>"But you know who have got them?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course. It's all written down +somewhere."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[271]</span></p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>But Swayne "did not rightly know." He +had the addresses in cipher somewhere, but +he could not put his hand upon them. Half +wild with fear, Colonel Tempest searched the +pockets of the clothes that lay about the +room, holding up their contents for Swayne +to look at. It was like some hideous game +of hide-and-seek. But the latter only shook +his head.</p> + +<p>"I have 'em somewhere," he repeated, +"and there was a change not so long ago. +When was it? May. There's one of 'em +written down in cipher in my pocket-book +in May, I know that."</p> + +<p>"Here. This one?" said Colonel Tempest, +holding out a greasy pocket-book.</p> + +<p>"That's it," said Swayne. "Some time +in May."</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest turned to the month, +and actually found a page with a faint pencil +scrawl in cipher across it.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[272]</span></p> + +<p>"That's him," said Swayne. "James +Larkin," and he read out a complicated +address without difficulty.</p> + +<p>"Will that find him?" asked Colonel +Tempest, his hand shaking so much that he +could hardly write down Swayne's words.</p> + +<p>"If it's to his advantage it will."</p> + +<p>"For certain?"</p> + +<p>"Certain."</p> + +<p>"And the others?"</p> + +<p>"There's one dead," said Swayne, his voice +waxing feebler and feebler as the momentary +galvanism of Colonel Tempest's terror lost +its effect. "And there's two I had back +the papers from; they were sick of it, and +they said he had a charmed life. And one +of 'em went to America, and married, and +set up respectable. I have his paper too. +And one of 'em's in quod, but he'll be out +soon, I reckon, and he's good for another +try. He precious near brought it off last<span class="pagenum">[273]</span> +time. There's a few left that's still biding +their time! There! And now I won't hear +nothin' more about it. Get to the prayers, +Colonel, and be quick. Parson might have +come again, damn him."</p> + +<p>"Stop a minute. Can I get at the others +through Larkin?"</p> + +<p>Swayne had sunk back spent and livid. +He looked at Colonel Tempest with fixed +and glassy eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, with the ghost of an oath; +"get to the prayers."</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest was still trembling with +the relief from that horrible nightmare of +suspense as he opened the shiny new Prayer-book +which the clergyman had left. He +held the first link. He had now only to +draw the whole chain through his hand, and +break it to atoms; the chain that was dragging +him down to hell. He hastily began +to read.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[274]</span></p> + +<p>God has heard many prayers, but, perhaps, +not many like those which ascended from +that hideous tumbled death-bed, where kneeling +self-interest halted through the supplication, +and prostrate self-interest gasped out +Amen.</p> + +<p>Oh! did He who first taught us how to +pray, did He, raised high upon the cross of +an apparent failure, look down the ages that +were yet to come, and see how we should +abuse that gift of prayer? Was that bitter +cry which has echoed through eighteen +hundred years wrung from Him even for +our sakes also as well as those who stood +around Him—"Father, forgive them, for +they know not what they do"?</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest was still on his knees +when the door was softly opened, and a +young, a very young, clergyman came in and +knelt down beside him, clasping his thin +hands over the collapsed felt <i>soufflée</i> which<span class="pagenum">[275]</span> +did duty for a hat. After stumbling to the +end of the prayer he was reading, Colonel +Tempest put the book into his hand and +escaped.</p> + +<p>He stole down the stairs and past the +little sitting-room unobserved. He was out +again in the open air, the live free air, +which seemed freshness itself after the atmosphere +of that sick-room. He held the clue. +He had it, he held it, he was safe. God +was on his side now, and was helping him to +make restitution. At one despairing moment +when he had been tearing even the linings +out of the pockets of Swayne's check trousers +he had feared that Providence had deserted +him. Now that he had the pocket-book he +regretted his want of faith. I do not think +his mind reverted once to Swayne, for Swayne +was no longer of any interest to him now +that he was out of Swayne's power. Colonel +Tempest did not exactly forget people, but<span class="pagenum">[276]</span> +his mind was so constituted that everything +with which it came in contact was wiped out +the moment it had ceased to affect or group +itself round himself. His imagination did +not follow his colleague's last faltering steps +upon that steep brink where each must one +day stand. His mind turned instinctively +to the most frivolous subjects, was back in +London wondering what he would have had +for dinner if he had dined with Archie as he +had intended; was anxious to know how +many cigarettes of that new brand he had +put into his case before he left London that +morning. Colonel Tempest stopped, and +got out his cigarette-case and counted them.</p> + +<p>Those who had known Colonel Tempest +best, those few who had misunderstood and +loved him, had often pondered with grave +anxiety, or with the wistful perplexity of +wounded affection, as to what it was in him +that being so impressionable was yet incapable<span class="pagenum">[277]</span> +of any real impression. His wife may or +may not have mastered that expensive secret. +At any rate, she had had opportunities of +studying it. When first, a few weeks after +her marriage, she had fallen ill, she, poor +fool, had suffered agonies from the fear that +because he hardly came into her sick-room +after the first day, he had ceased to care for +her. But when after a few days more she +was feeling better and was pretty and interesting +again in a pink wrapper on the +sofa, she had found that he was as devoted +to her as ever, and had confided her foolish +dread to him with happy tears. Possibly +she discovered at last that the secret lay not +so much in the selfishness and self-indulgence +of a character moth-eaten by idleness, as +in the instant and invariable recoil of the +mind from any subject that threatened to +prove disagreeable, the determination to avoid +everything irksome, wearisome, or reproachful.<span class="pagenum">[278]</span> +For a moment, while it was quite new, +a sentiment might be indulged in. But as +soon as a certain novelty and pleasure in +emotion ceased the feeling itself was +shirked, at whatever expense to others. +Those who shirk are ill to live with, and lay +up for themselves an increasing loneliness as +life goes on.</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest found it unpleasant to +think about Swayne, so he thought of something +else. He could always do that unless +he himself was concerned. Then, indeed, as +we have seen, it was a different thing. He +was annoyed when, after slowly picking his +way back to the station, he found the last +passenger train had just gone; that even if +he drove fifteen miles in to Worcester he +should be too late to catch the last express to +London; in fact, that there was nothing for +it but a bed at the station inn. He found, +however, that by making a very early start<span class="pagenum">[279]</span> +from Bilgewater the following morning he +could reach London by noon, and so resigned +himself to his lot with composure. He had +hardly expected he should be able to go and +return in one day.</p> + +<p>It was indeed early when he walked across +to the station next morning, so early that +there was a suspicion of freshness in the air, +of colour in the eastern sky.</p> + +<p>On a heap of slag a motionless figure was +sitting, black against the sky line, looking +towards the east. It was the curate, who +when he perceived Colonel Tempest, came +crunching and flapping in his long coat tails +down to the road below, raised his hat from +a meagre clerical brow, and held out his +hand. His face was thin and poor, suggestive +of a starved mind and cold mutton and +Pearson on the Creed, but the smile redeemed +it.</p> + +<p>"It is all over," he said; "half an hour<span class="pagenum">[280]</span> +ago. Quite quietly at the last. I stayed +with him through the night. I never left +him. We prayed together without ceasing."</p> + +<p>Colonel Tempest did not know what to say.</p> + +<p>"It was too late to go to bed," continued +the young man impulsively, his face working. +"So I came here. I often come and sit on +that ash heap to see the sun rise. I'm so +glad just to have seen you again. I longed +to thank you for those prayers by poor Mr. +Crosbie's bed. You know the Scripture: +'Where two or three are gathered together.' +I felt it was so true. I have lost heart so of +late. No one seems to care or think about +these things down here. But your coming +and praying like that has been such a help, +such a reproach to me for my want of faith +when I think that the seed falls on the rock. +I shall take courage again now. Ah! You +are going by this train? Good-bye, God +bless you! Thank you again."</p> + +<hr class="chapter" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[281]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i-ch01.jpg" width="600" height="187" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<p class="centern">"Every man's progress is through a succession of +teachers."—<span class="smcap">Emerson.</span></p> + +<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/drop_a.jpg" width="80" height="79" alt="A" /> +<span class="hide">A</span>S John slowly climbed the hill of convalescence +many visitors came to +relieve his solitude, and one of those who +came the oftenest was Lord Frederick Fane.</p> + +<p>Lord Frederick was a square-shouldered, +well-preserved, well set up, carefully-padded +man of close on sixty, with a thin-lipped, +bloodless face, and faded eyes, divided by a +high nose.</p> + +<p>"Do you like that man?" said Lord +Hemsworth to John one day when he was +sitting with him, and Lord Frederick sent<span class="pagenum">[282]</span> +up to know whether the latter would see +him.</p> + +<p>"No," said John.</p> + +<p>"But you seem to see a good deal of him."</p> + +<p>"He is civil to me, and I am not rude to +him. He is a relation, you know."</p> + +<p>"I can't stand him," said Lord Hemsworth. +"If he is coming up I shall bolt;" and Lord +Frederick entering at that moment, Lord +Hemsworth took his departure.</p> + +<p>"You're better, John," said Lord Frederick, +looking at him through his half-closed eyes, +and settling himself gently in a high chair, +his hat and one glove and crutch-handled +stick held before him in his broad lean hand.</p> + +<p>"I feel more human," said John, "now +that I'm shaved and dressed. When I saw +myself in the glass yesterday for the first +time, I thought I was Darwin's missing +link."</p> + +<p>"You look more human," said Lord<span class="pagenum">[283]</span> +Frederick, crossing one leg over the other, +and then contemplating his white spats for +a change. "Able to attend to business +again yet?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. I have tried, but I am as +weak as a worm that can't turn."</p> + +<p>"Pity," said Lord Frederick, glancing at +a sheaf of letters and some opened telegrams +on the table at John's elbow. "Things +always happen at inconvenient times," he +went on. "Old Charlesworth might have +chosen a more opportune moment to die and +leave Marchamley vacant again."</p> + +<p>"He is not dead yet."</p> + +<p>"I suppose both sides have been at you +already to stand for it yourself," hazarded +Lord Frederick.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I thought so."</p> + +<p>Silence.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to stand?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[284]</span></p> + +<p>"What is your opinion on the subject? I +see you have one."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Lord Frederick, "I look at +it this way. I have often said 'Don't tie +yourself.' I am all for young men keeping +their hands free, and seeing the ins and outs +of life, before they settle down. But you +are not so very young, and a time comes +when a sort of annoyance attaches to freedom +itself. It's a bore. Now as to this seat. +Indecision is all very well for a time; it +enhances a man's value. You were quite +right not to stand three years ago; it has +made you of more importance. But that +won't do much longer. You are bound to +come to a decision for your own advantage. +Neutral ground is sometimes between two +fires. I should say 'stand,' if you ask me. +Throw in your lot with the side on which +you are most likely to come to the front, and +stand."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[285]</span></p> + +<p>"And private opinions? How about them +if they don't happen to fit? Throw them +overboard?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Lord Frederick. "It has +got to be done sooner or later. Why not +sooner? A free-lance is no manner of use. +There's a hitch somewhere in you, John, +that if you don't look out will damn your +career as a public man. I don't know what +your politics are. My own opinion, between +ourselves, is that you have not got any, but +you are bound to have some, and you may +as well join forces with what will bring +you forward most, and start young. That's +my advice."</p> + +<p>"Thanks."</p> + +<p>"There is not a man in the world with an +ounce of brains who has not high-flown ideas +at your age," continued Lord Frederick. +"I have had them. Everybody has them. +You buy them with your first razors. People<span class="pagenum">[286]</span> +generally sicken with them just when they +could make a push for themselves, and while +they are getting better, youth and opportunity +pass and don't come back. I've seen it over +and over again. Every young fool with a +ginger moustache, when he first starts in +public life, is going to be a patriot, and do +his d—d thinking for himself. He might as +well make his own clothes, and expect society +to receive him in them. By the time he is +bald he has learnt better, and he's a party +man, but he has lost time in the meanwhile. +You may depend upon it, a strong party man +is what is wanted. The country doesn't +want individuals with brains; they are mostly +kicked out in the end. If you don't want to +go with the crowd, don't go against it, but +throw yourself into it heart and soul, and +get in front of it on its own road. It's no +good coming to the fore unless you have a +following."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[287]</span></p> + +<p>"Thanks," said John again. His face +was as expressionless as a mask. He +looked, as he lay back in his low couch, a +strange mixture of feebleness and power. It +was as if a strong man armed kept watch +within a house tottering to its fall.</p> + +<p>He put out his muscular, powerless hand, +and took up one of the telegrams.</p> + +<p>"Charlesworth is not dead yet," he said.</p> + +<p>Lord Frederick could take a hint.</p> + +<p>"His death will put the Moretons in +mourning again," he remarked. "Mrs. +Moreton's ball is doomed. I am sorry for +that woman. She is cumbered with much +time-serving, and her ball fell through last +year; this is the second time it has happened. +I have been asking her young men for her. +I put down your cousin in the Guards, the +Apollo with the tow wig. What's-his-name, +Tempest?"</p> + +<p>"Archibald."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[288]</span></p> + +<p>"Yes. That would be a dangerous man, +if he were not such a fool, but the same +placard that says he is to let says he is +unfurnished, and it's poor work taking an +empty house, when it comes to living in it. +Women know that. He has let the soda +water heiress slip through his fingers. She +is going to marry young Topham. I +thought Apollo seemed rather down on his +luck when it was first given out, but he has +consoled himself since. Apparently he has +a mission to married women. He is always +with Lady Verelst now; I saw him riding +with her again this morning. I don't know +who mounts him, but he was on the best +horse I've seen this season. You are not +such a f——, such a philanthropist as to lend +him horses, are you?"</p> + +<p>"When I can't use them myself I have +that amount of generosity."</p> + +<p>"H'm! Well, he makes good use of his<span class="pagenum">[289]</span> +opportunities to cheer up Lady Verelst. I +wish you would flirt more with married +women, John. You would find your account +in it. I did at your age. You see you are +too eligible to go on much with girls, and +that's the truth. You would be watched. +But you don't pay enough attention to +women, and three-quarters of the world is +made up of them. You are too much of a +Puritan, but you may remember human +nature is like a short-footed stocking. If +you darn it up at the heel it will come out at +the toe. It's no manner of use to ignore +women. People who do always come the +worst croppers in the end. A flirtation with +a fast, married woman would peel your illusions +off you like the skin off an orange. +All young men believe in women—till they +know them. He! He! If I were a rabbit +I should take a personal interest in the +habits of birds of prey. I told Hemsworth<span class="pagenum">[290]</span> +something of the kind the other day, but +he is bent on making a fool of himself."</p> + +<p>"He knows his own affairs best."</p> + +<p>"I fancy I know them better than he +does. Miss Di is young, but she is uncommonly +well aware of her own value, and +she is looking higher. I should not wonder +if she tried to marry you. She'll take him +in five years' time, if he is still willing, and +she outstands her market: but in the mean +time she keeps him dangling. I told him +so, and that I admired her for it. She +holds her head high, but she is a splendid +creature, and no mistake. She has not that +expectant anxious look about her that you +see in other girls, and she is not made up. +It's sterling good looks in her case. If +you are interested in that quarter, you may +take my word for it, it is all genuine, even +to her hair. That is why her frank manner +is so telling; it's of a piece with the rest.<span class="pagenum">[291]</span> +She knows how to play her cards. The +old woman has taught her a thing or two."</p> + +<p>"What a knowledge you have of—human +nature."</p> + +<p>"I have looked about," said Lord +Frederick, rising as gently as he had sat +down, and pulling up his shirt collar. "I +had my eyes opened pretty young, and I +have kept them open ever since. Glad +you're better. That black devil in tights +of a poodle wants shaving as much as +you did last time I saw you. No, don't +ring for that melancholy valet. I will let +myself out. I dare say I shall be in again +in the course of a day or two. Ta, ta."</p> + +<p>John crushed the telegram he was still +holding into a hard ball as soon as his self-constituted +guide, philosopher, and friend +had left the room.</p> + +<p>Cynicism was not new to him. It is cheap +enough to be universally appropriated by<span class="pagenum">[292]</span> +the poor in spirit, for whom generosity and +tolerance are commodities too expensive to +be indulged in. Our belief in human nature +is a foot rule, by which we may be accurately +measured ourselves. There are those in +whose enlightened eyes, purity herself is +only a courtesan in fancy dress. John had +already had many teachers, for he was a +man who was being educated regardless of +expense; but perhaps to no two persons did +he owe so much as to Mr. Goodwin and +Lord Frederick Fane. Our elders act as +danger-signals oftener than they know.</p> + +<p>John's room looked out across the Park. +His couch had been drawn near the open +window, and to lie and watch the passing +crowd of carriages and pedestrians was +almost as much excitement as he could bear +after the darkened rooms and enforced quiet +of the last few weeks. John, with Lindo +erect on the vacant chair beside him, saw<span class="pagenum">[293]</span> +Lord Frederick's hansom, with his pale +profile inside it, turn down Park Lane below +his windows. Pain had burned all John's +energy out of him for the time, and he had +soon forgotten his annoyance in watching +the people attempting to cross the thoroughfare, +and in counting the omnibuses that +passed. It was all he was up to. It was +about five in the afternoon, and carriage +after carriage turned into the Park at the +gates opposite his window. There went +Lady Delmour with her brand new daughter, +a sweet, wild rose from the country, that +must be perfected by London smuts and +gaslight. John pointed her out to Lindo, +but he only yawned and looked the other +way. There was Mrs. Barker walking with +her husband. Those two white parasols he +had danced with somewhere, but he could +not put a name to them. Neither could +Lindo when asked. Another red omnibus.<span class="pagenum">[294]</span> +That was the tenth red one within the last +half-hour. Royalty went flashing by, bowing +and bowed to. John obliged Lindo, whom +he suspected of democratic tendencies, to +make a bow also. He hoped his nurse +would not come in and send him back to bed +yet. It was really very interesting watching +the passers-by. Was that—no, it was not—yes, +it was Lady Verelst with red parasol +and husband to match, in the victoria with +the greys. There was actually Duchess, his +old polo pony whom he had not seen since +he sold her three years ago, looking as spry +as ever. John craned his neck to see the +last of the bob-tail of his old favourite +whisk round the corner. A moment later +Mrs. Courtenay and Di, erect and fair beside +her, spun past in the opposite direction. +Before he had time to realize that he had +seen her, almost before he had recognized +her, the momentary glimpse struck him like<span class="pagenum">[295]</span> +a blow. His head swam, his heart, so +languid the moment before, leapt up and +struggled like a maddened caged animal. +She had passed some time before he was +conscious of anything but the one fact that +he had seen her.</p> + +<p>He stumbled to his feet and walked unsteadily +across the room, clutching at the +furniture. He seemed to have left his legs +behind.</p> + +<p>"What am I doing?" he said to himself +half aloud, holding on to and swaying against +a table. "What has happened? Why did +I get up?"</p> + +<p>He dragged himself back to his couch +again, and sank down exhausted. The excursion +had been too much for him. He +had not walked so far before. He was +bewildered.</p> + +<p>Through the open window came the jingle, +and the "clip-clop" and the hum. Another<span class="pagenum">[296]</span> +red omnibus passed. But there was a loud +knocking at the door of John's heart that +deafened him to all beside; the peremptory +knocking as of one armed with a claim, who +stood without and would not be denied.</p> +</div> <!-- main text --> + +<p class="h3">END OF VOL. 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