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diff --git a/40354-0.txt b/40354-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..aea1a8a --- /dev/null +++ b/40354-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11096 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40354 *** + + 1. Page scan source: + http://www.archive.org/details/confessionsayou00marsgoog + + + + + + + Confessions of a + Young Lady + + + + + + + By The Same Author + + CURIOS + THE MAGNETIC GIRL + ADA VERNHAM, ACTRESS + Mrs MUSGRAVE AND HER HUSBAND + Miss ARNOTT'S MARRIAGE + + * * * * * + + John Long, Publisher, London + + + + + + + Confessions of a Young Lady + + _Her Doings and Misdoings_ + + + By + + Richard Marsh + + Author of + + "The Beetle," etc. + + + + + London + John Long + 13 & 14 Norris Street, Haymarket + [_All Rights Reserved_] + + + + + + + _First Published in_ 1905 + + + + + + + CONTENTS + + + I. A Wonderful Girl. + + II. Cupid's Messenger. + + III. The Ogre. + + IV. The Handwriting. + + V. The People's Stock Exchange. + + VI. Breaking the Ice. + + VII. A Girl Who Couldn't. + + VIII. The Princess Margaretta. + + IX. The End of His Holiday. + + X. The Girl and the Boy. + + XI. A Mutual Affinity. + + XII. Magical Music. + + XIII. A Runaway Wife. + + + + + + Confessions of a Young Lady + + + + + I + + A WONDERFUL GIRL + + +As a small girl I must have been a curiosity. At least I hope so. +Because if I was only an average child what a time parents, and +guardians, and schoolmistresses, and those sort of persons, must have +of it. To this hour I am a creature of impulse. But then--! I did a +thing; started to regret it when it was about half done; and if I ever +thought at all about the advisability of doing it, it was certainly +only when everything was over. + +Take the case of my very fleeting association with Bradford's Royal +Theatre. + +So far as I can fix it, at the time I must have been about twelve. A +small, elf-like creature, with eyes which were ever so much too big +for my face, and a mass of unruly, very dark brown, hair. Some people +have told me that then it was black. But I doubt it. For there are +those who tell me that it is black now, which I have the very best of +reasons for knowing it is not. At that school they called me The +Witch; in allusion, I believe, not only to my personal appearance but +also to my uncanny goings-on. + +The school was in a Sussex village. To that village there used to come +each year a travelling theatre. It took the form of a good-sized +oblong tent, which was erected in a field which was attached to the +Half Moon Hotel. I imagine that the whole countryside must have +patronised Bradford's Royal Theatre, because sometimes it would stay +there for two months at a time. It put in its first appearance, so far +as I was concerned, during my second term at Miss Pritchard's school. +We girls were not supposed to know anything about it. But well do I +remember the awe with which I used to gaze at the exceedingly dingy +canvas structure as we passed it in our walks. And once when Nelly +Haynes, with whom I was walking, pointing to an individual who was +lounging in his shirt sleeves at the entrance to the field, observed +that that was one of the principal actors--though what she knew about +it I have not the faintest notion--I could not have stared at him with +greater curiosity had he been the Slave of Aladdin's Wonderful Lamp. + +Even yet, when I am in the mood, I read everything in the way of print +that I can lay my hand on. In that respect, also, I fear that the girl +was mother to the woman. I had recently come across an article in a +magazine treating of infant phenomena; I am not quite sure if the +plural ought to be written with an _a_ or an _s_ when using the word +in that particular sense; but, any way, I will leave it. How I had +lighted on the magazine I cannot remember. But I rather fancy that it +must have been the property of one of the governesses, who had left it +lying about, and that I borrowed it without going through the form of +asking leave. I know that I took it to a corner of the orchard of +which we had the freedom when there was no fruit upon the trees, and +that I devoured that article. It was all about precocious children. +Recording how Mozart had composed masses--whatever they were!--at the +age of two, or less, and how some little girl had won fame as a dancer +at the age of three, or perhaps a trifle more. But in particular it +told of the Infant Roscius. The story of that Wonderful Boy--he was +throughout alluded to as The Wonderful Boy--set my brain in a whirl. I +do not think that I have read much--if anything--about William Henry +West Betty since; but I do believe that I recollect nearly all that I +read then. He took London by storm when he was twelve years old; my +age! the tale of my own years nearly to a tick! As Selim in +_Barbarossa_--when one thinks of it, it must have been a wonderful +part in a truly wonderful play for that Wonderful Boy!--the whole +world of wit, and wealth, and fashion was at his feet. In the course +of a single season he gained over seventeen thousand pounds. + +Those are facts and figures for you. Especially were they facts and +figures for me then. By the time I had reached the end of that article +my mind was firmly resolved upon one point--that I would be an Infant +Phenomenon. There should be a Wonderful Girl as well as a Wonderful +Boy. It seemed clear to me that girls, of the proper type, might be +made quite as attractive as boys. The mystery was that there should +not have been a Wonderful Girl already. But the want should be +immediately supplied. + +Of course, one or two difficulties were in the way. I had never acted +myself, or seen anybody else act, and knew as much about plays as +about Mars. And then Betty was encouraged; while I had an inward +conviction that that would not be the case with me. Under these +circumstances I did not quite see, at the moment, how I was to play +the principal part at Covent Garden, nor even begin to charm the +world--as young Betty had done--at a theatre in Ireland. But not for +one moment did I allow myself to be daunted by considerations of that +kind. + +I think it was the very next day--my enthusiasm lasted all through the +night, which was not always the case, for I have gone to sleep +intending to marry a missionary and woke up bent on being a queen of +the cannibals--that Fate threw in my way the very opportunity I +wanted--at Bradford's Royal Theatre. + +I imagine that it must have been pretty bad weather about that time. +When it was not raining it was blowing; and when, as the Irishman +said, it was doing neither, it was doing both. Climatic conditions +unfavourably affected the attendance at Bradford's Royal Theatre. I +know such was the case because I heard the governesses saying so. It +all comes back to me. It was after morning lessons; I was in the +schoolroom writing to someone at home--in those days I was a +tremendous correspondent--and some of the governesses were talking +together close to where I sat. They paid no attention to the pair of +large ears attached to the small person close at hand. The theme of +their conversation was Bradford's Royal Theatre, and they were +expressing their fears that things had lately gone very badly with the +company thereof. Two remarks stick in my memory:--that on one occasion +there had only been one and ninepence taken at the door; and that at +the close of a recent week there had been less than two pounds to +divide among seven people. What warrant they had for their statements +I cannot say. But I know that they made a vivid impression on me at +the time. And when they spoke of certain individuals being in actual +want, it was all I could do to refrain from showing more interest in +the topic under discussion than, under the circumstances, would have +been discreet. + +Because, as I listened, it burst in upon me in one of those sudden +flashes of illumination to which I was singularly liable that here was +the very opening I wanted. Here was a chance to figure, in a double +sense, as a Wonderful Girl. + +On the one hand I would dower these unfortunate people with the wealth +of which they stood so much in need; on the other, I would take the +world by storm. At Bradford's Royal Theatre, in the guise of a +benevolent fairy, I would commence that career compared to which that +of the Infant Roscius would be as nothing. + +I did not stop to consider--it was not my custom. Stealing from the +schoolroom, taking my hat from its peg, crossing the playground, +paying no attention to the girls who spoke to me, through the gate out +into the road, I marched right straight away to Bradford's Royal +Theatre. + +When I think of it I hardly know whether to laugh or cry. The eager +little creature that I was, with my heart swelling in my bosom, my +head full of unutterable things, striding along the country road, now +breaking into a run, now compelled to relax my speed for want of +breath. It must have been nearly one o'clock, our dinner-time at +school. I remember that I had twopence in my pocket. I fancy that at +Miss Pritchard's--my first boarding-school--my allowance was +threepence a week; and as that was paid on Saturday, and I still had +twopence left, it is probable that I adventured in the regions of +infant phenomena upon a Monday. My way lay past a solitary shop. I got +hungry as I walked--in those days I did get hungry--the presence of +that shop brought the fact vividly home to me. I paused to see what +might be bought. My instinct pointed to sweets. Just as I was about to +follow my instinct I perceived, on a dish in the corner of the window, +a German sausage--or rather, a portion of one. I thought of the hungry +folk at Bradford's Royal Theatre. My mind was made up on the instant. +Into the shop I went and asked for two pennyworths of German sausage. +Whoever it was that served me must have stared, for I can hardly have +looked like an individual who might be expected to make a purchase of +the kind. But, anyhow, I got what I desired, and with it in my hand, +wrapped in a piece of newspaper, I pursued my way. + +I would not only present these unfortunates with the first-fruits of +my great gifts, I would furnish them with food as well. + +Whether, while I was being served with that German sausage, I had time +to begin to reflect, I cannot say, but I have a clear recollection +that, after quitting that emporium of commerce, my steps were not +marked by that enthusiasm which had originally sent me speeding like +an arrow from a bow. Probably the whole distance was not more than +three-quarters of a mile, and of that less than two hundred yards +remained. But that two hundred yards took me longer than all the rest +had done. + +I was beginning--positively--to be afraid. When I reached a point at +which the histrionic temple was only on the other side of the road I +stood still. I was conscious of considerable reluctance to cross from +the side on which I was to the side on which it was. For one thing, I +was appalled by the peculiar dreariness of its appearance. I could not +fancy the Infant Roscius commencing his career in that. The tent +itself did look so shabby; the living waggons, which stood +disconsolately together in the mud, were so much in want of painting; +about the whole there was such an atmosphere of meanness, such a +wealth of mire, that my heart began to sink. A small girl ran from the +tent to a waggon, and from the waggon back to the tent. She struck me +as being the dirtiest and most disreputable-looking creature I had +ever seen. I called to her, meaning to give her that twopennyworth of +German sausage and then retire, postponing the opening of my career +until a future time. But either I did not call loud enough or she was +in too much haste to heed. She disappeared without a glance in my +direction. + +The moment she was gone sudden consciousness of the shameful thing +that I would do swept over me. I had come to help those poor people, +and just because they evidently were so much in want of help I +proposed to leave them to their fate. Was I attempting to quiet my +conscience by pretending that it would be enough to present them with +two pennyworths of German sausage? What--my thoughts flying back to +what the governess had said--was two pennyworths of German sausage +among seven? Why, I could eat it all myself--and more! Over the road I +tore, clattered along the boards which formed a causeway through the +thick, upstanding filth; in a flash was through the entrance and in +the theatre. + +Then I paused. Without, the day was dull. Inside, to my unaccustomed +eyes, all at first was darkness. I have not forgotten the anguish with +which I began to realise some of the details of my surroundings. It +was all so dreadful--so different to anything I had expected. To begin +with, there was the smell. As the merest dot I never could stand +odours of any kind. Even now, whoever presents me with a bottle of +scent makes of me an enemy. That smelt as if all the bad air was kept +in and all the good kept out. Then it was so small; to me it perhaps +appeared smaller than it actually was, because I thought that Miss +Pritchard's pupils would have filled it. And dirty, untidy, +comfortless, beyond my powers of description. There was nothing on the +ground to protect one's feet from the oozing damp. If the audience sat +at all I could not think. I saw nothing in the way of seats, unless +they were represented by some boards which were piled upon each other +at one side. At one end, raised a little from the ground, was a +platform of rough planks, so small that there could hardly have been +room on it for half a dozen persons standing abreast. It never +occurred to me till afterwards that that was the stage. I kept +wondering where the stage was. I knew that theatres had stages. + +While, as they became used to the light, my keen young eyes were +taking these things in, I perceived that the place had occupants. +There were four men and three women. I should have put them down as +the seven I had heard alluded to, had there not also been a litter of +children. It was only the children who seemed to take any interest in +me. They clustered round, a ragamuffin crowd, regarding me as if I +were some strange beast. At last one of them exclaimed,-- + +"Mother, here's a little girl!" + +The woman whom, I supposed, the child addressed, looked up from some +potatoes which she was washing in a pail of water. + +"Well, little girl, what is it you're wanting?" + +The place, the people, their surroundings, everything was so +altogether different to the vague something I had anticipated, that, +like the creature of moods I was, I seemed, all at once, to have +passed from a world of fact into a world of dream. It was like one in +a dream I answered,-- + +"I have come to be the Infant Roscius." + +Not unnaturally the lady who was washing the potatoes failed to +understand. + +"What's that?" she demanded. + +I repeated my assertion. + +"I have come to be the Infant Roscius." + +Other of the grown-ups roused themselves to stare at me. + +"What's she talking about?" inquired a second woman, who had a baby at +her breast. + +An elderly man, who was perched on the edge of the platform smoking a +pipe, hazarded an explanation. + +"She's after tickets; that's what it is she wants." + +The potato washer seemed to be brightened by the hint. + +"Has your mother sent you to buy some tickets?" + +I shook my head solemnly. + +"I have come to act." + +"To--what?" + +That my appearance, words and manner together were creating some sort +of a sensation I understood. That these were ignorant people I had +already--with my wonted promptitude--concluded. It seemed to me that +it would be necessary to treat them as children--and dull of +comprehension at that--to whom I, as a grown-up person, had to +explain, in the clearest possible manner, exactly what it was that had +brought me there. This I at once proceeded to do, with what I have no +doubt whatever was an air of ineffable superiority. + +"I am going to be a Wonderful Girl. I am nearly twelve, and Young +Betty was only twelve, and he earned over seventeen thousand pounds in +one season, and if I earn as much as that I will give it all to you." +I paused--to reflect. "At least I would give you a great deal of it. +Of course, I should like to keep some, because a Wonderful Girl mayn't +go on long, and when I stop of course I should want to have a fortune +to live upon, like Young Betty had. But still that wouldn't matter, +because there'd be plenty for seven." + +Amid my confused imaginings I had pictured the announcement of my +purpose being received with wild applause. Those who heard would cast +themselves at my feet, throw their arms about me, and rain tears upon +my head. Not that that sort of thing would be altogether agreeable. +But something of the kind would have to be put up with. When people +were beside themselves with gratitude at seeing themselves snatched +from the gaping jaws of feelings had to be allowed them. If, however, +the persons to whom my explanation was actually addressed were beside +themselves with gratitude they managed to conceal the fact with +astonishing success. It struck me that they did not understand me even +yet, which showed that they must be excessively dull. More stupid even +than the teeny weeny tots in the first class who could not be got to +see things. + +The seven looked from me to each other, then back again to me. The +woman with the baby repeated her former question, as if she had no +sense of comprehension. I wondered if she was deaf. + +"What's she talking about?" + +The man who had dropped the hint about the tickets, descending from +his perch upon the platform, came sauntering in my direction. As he +moved he placed his hand against his forehead. + +"Barmy on the crumpet," he observed. + +What he meant I had not a notion. It moved a third woman, whose +girth precluded any notion of her being on the verge of famine, to +exclaim,-- + +"Poor dear!" + +The potato washer began to put me through an examination. + +"What's your name?" + +"Molly Boyes." + +"Where d'ye live?" + +"West Marden." + +"You ain't come all the way from West Marden here?" + +"I've come from Miss Pritchard's school." + +The statement seemed to fill the man with illuminating light. + +"Ah, that's just what I thought! D'rectly I see her that's just what I +thought. Miss Pritchard's--that's the girls' school on the Brighton +road, house is inside a wall. I went there to try to get them for +_Uncle Tom's Cabin_. First the lady said there wasn't to be no +flogging, then that she couldn't possibly bring her pupils if there +wasn't any chairs for them to sit up. I told Mr Biffin what she said. +And he said, well there wasn't any chairs, and there was an end of +it." + +The woman with the baby interposed an observation. + +"We should do better if there was chairs. It isn't likely that the +front seat people will want to sit on boards." + +The big woman proffered a reminder. + +"On the front seats there's baize." + +Which the woman with the baby spurned. + +"What's baize?" + +The man addressed himself to me. He was a thin man, with iron-grey +hair, and there was something about his face which made me think that +though he was untidy, and I wished he would not wear such a very +greasy cap, I might induce myself in time to like him. Never once did +he remove his pipe from his mouth, nor his hands from his trouser +pockets. + +"Well, Miss Boyes, it's a pity you should have come to act, seeing +that there's a good many of us here that does that sort of thing +already. The difficulty is to get people to come and see us do it. Do +you think that many of your friends would come and see you act?" + +"Well, not many of my friends." + +"That, again, is unfortunate." + +"But strangers would." + +"It's that way with you, is it? With us it's different. We look to +friends for our support. Strangers are sometimes disagreeable. What +plays were you thinking of acting?" + +"I don't know any plays as yet. But I soon could." + +"Of course. That's easy enough. _Hamlet_, I suppose, and that kind of +thing. And what sort of part were you thinking of playing?" + +"I really haven't thought." + +"No, you wouldn't, such a trifle being of no consequence. You weren't +thinking of playing old women?" + +"Well, I don't think I could act old women. But I might try. Young +Betty acted an old man." + +"Young Betty did. Is that so? And who might young Betty be? A friend +of yours? That young lady over there, her name's Betty." + +He jerked his elbow towards the woman with the baby. I was shocked, +although, having already taken their ignorance for granted, I was able +to conceal my feelings with comparative ease. + +"He was a boy." + +"A boy? With a name like Betty? What was his father and mother up to +then?" + +"His name was William Henry West Betty. He was the Infant Roscius." + +"Was he?" + +"He was The Wonderful Boy. I am going to be a Wonderful Girl." + +"You're that already. Seeing that you are a Wonderful Girl, what might +have put it into your head to come here?" + +"You are very poor, aren't you?" + +"Poor? That's what you might call a leading question. We're not rich. +Who told you we were poor?" + +"Didn't you only take one and ninepence at the door one night?" + +By this time general interest was being roused in our conversation. As +soon as the words were out of my mouth I was aware that they had been +heard with more attention than anything I yet had said. Though why +that should be the case was beyond my capacity of perception. + +"Only took one and ninepence at the door one night, did we? Oh! Looks +as if someone had been talking. From whom might you have heard that +piece of news?" + +"And one week weren't there less than two pounds to divide among +seven? You could not live on that. No one could. It's not to be done. +It simply means starvation." + +I merely repeated, with all the earnestness of which I was capable, +what I had heard the governesses saying. My remarks were followed by +what even I felt was a significant silence. My interlocutor, bringing +forward with his foot what looked like an empty egg-box, placed +himself upon a corner. It creaked under his weight. + +"It would seem as if somebody knows almost as much about this temple +of the drama as it knows about itself. And it certainly is true that, +regarded as a week's earnings, two pounds isn't much between seven. So +you thought--?" + +"I thought I'd come and help you." + +"Come and help us? By acting?" + +"If I'm going to be a Wonderful Girl--and I am going to be--it's quite +time I was beginning. Young Betty was at the height of his fame when +he was twelve. So I thought I would commence by making a lot of money +for you here, which would keep you all from starving; and then, of +course, I shall go on to London and make the rest of my fortune +there." + +"I see. Well, this bangs Banagher. Banagher it bangs." + +What he meant I could not say. But he should have been a capital +actor, because not a muscle of his face moved. A man behind him +laughed--stinging me as with the lash of a whip. + +The big woman delivered herself of her former ejaculation. + +"Poor dear!" + +The potato washer remarked,-- + +"Strikes me, my girl, that you've a good opinion of yourself." + +The grey-headed man had his eyes upon what I had in my hand. + +"What might you happen to have there?" + +"It's some food which I have brought for you." + +"For me in particular, or for all the lot of us?" + +"It's for the seven." + +"The seven? I see. The seven who divided those two sovereigns." + +"Yes. It's some German sausage. I hope you like German sausage." + +"It's my favourite joint." + +I endeavoured to correct what I imagined to be a still further display +of his ignorance. + +"I don't think that German sausage is a joint. It's not generally +looked upon as such. It's a long, round, cold thing, off which, you +know, they cut it in slices." + +I passed him the parcel, he removing--for the first time--one of his +hands from his pockets for the purpose of taking it, balancing it on +his open palm as if on a scale. It was a pretty grimy piece of +newspaper, and was not of a size to suggest extensive contents. I +became more and more conscious of its wretched smallness as, with +every outward appearance of care and gravity, he slowly unwrapped it. +The others gathered closer round, as if agog with curiosity. Finally +there were revealed three or four attenuated slices. He held them out +at arm's length in front of them. + +"For seven!" + +"There isn't much," I managed to murmur, oppressed, all at once, by +the discovery of what a dreadful little there really was. "But I had +only twopence." + +"You had only twopence, so you purchased two pennyworths of German +sausage--for seven." + +"Of course I'll earn a deal of money for you besides." + +A girl came rushing into the tent behind me. The interruption was +welcome, for I instinctively felt that matters had reached a point at +which a diversion of any sort was to be desired. But I was far from +being prepared for the proclamation which she instantly made. + +"Here's the lady come!--I've been and fetched her!" + +To my blank astonishment there appeared--Miss Pritchard. That +intelligent young woman, having a shrewd eye for a possible reward, +had availed herself of the information which had been extracted from +me to rush off to the school to proclaim my whereabouts, receiving, as +I afterwards learnt, a shilling for her pains. Never before had I seen +Miss Pritchard in such a state of agitation; and no wonder, +considering the pace at which she must have torn along the road. + +"Molly!--Molly Boyes, what is the meaning of this?" + +The sight of her had driven me speechless. I could not have told her +for everything the world contained. My interlocutory friend explained +instead--in a fashion of his own. + +"It's all right, madam--everything's quite right! Having heard that +things were in a bad way with us in this temple of the drama this +young lady has brought us two pennyworths of German sausage to save us +from actual starvation, and has expressed her intention--I don't quite +follow that part, but so far as I can make out she's proposing to make +our fortunes by beginning to be a Wonderful Girl; which it isn't +necessary for her to begin to be, seeing as how I should say that +she's been a Wonderful Girl ever since the moment she was born." + +Of what immediately followed I have but a dim appreciation. I know +that, on the instant, I was turned into a common butt--or I felt as +if I was. The children pointed their fingers at me and jeered. The +grown-ups were all talking at once. There was general confusion. The +whole rickety tent was filled with a tumult of scorn and laughter. + +Presently I was being escorted by Miss Pritchard back to school, the +children standing in the middle of the road to point after me as I +went. I was in an agony of shame. With that keenness of vision with +which I have been dowered I perceived, as I was wont to do, too late, +what an idiot I had been! What a simpleton! What a conceited, +presumptuous, ignorant little wretch! How I had made of myself a mock +and a show for the amusement of the company of Bradford's Royal +Theatre! I felt as if the hideous fact was written on my face--on +every line of me. All I wanted was to hide, to bury myself somewhere +where none might witness my distress. Although my worthy +schoolmistress was walking faster than I ever saw her walk before or +afterwards, I kept tugging at her hand--she was not going fast enough +for me. + +So soon as we reached the school she took me into her little private +sitting-room, and, without removing her hat, or giving me time to take +off mine, required from me an immediate explanation of my conduct. +Amid my blinding sobs I gave her as full and complete an explanation +as she could possibly have desired. The bump of frankness was--and +is--marked on my phrenological chart as developed to an even +ridiculous extent. When I have been indulging in one of my usual +escapades nothing contents me but an unrestrained declaration of all +the motives which impelled me to do the thing or things which I ought +to have left undone. + +I told her about the article in the magazine, and about what I had +heard of the pitiful state of things at Bradford's Royal Theatre, and +my determination to assist them while starting on my meteoric career. +And before I had gone very far, instead of scolding, she had her arm +about me, and was endeavouring to soothe my sobs. She must have been a +very sensitive person for a schoolmistress--though I do not know why I +should say that, because I have not the least idea why schoolmistresses +should not be as sensitive as anybody else, since they are human--for +when I began to tell her of how I had expended my capital on the +purchase of what that grey-headed man had called his "favourite joint," +she drew me quite close to her, and in the midst of my own anguish I +actually felt the tears upon her cheeks. She took me on her knee, and +instead of sending me to bed, or into the corner, or punishing me in +any way whatever, she kissed and comforted me as if I had not been +the most ridiculous child in the world. It might not have been the +sort of treatment I deserved, but I loved her for it ever afterwards. + +What was more, she promised not to betray me to the governesses, or to +my schoolfellows, or to anyone. Though I think that she wrote and told +my mother, though mother never breathed a hint of her having done +anything of the sort to me. But I always thought so. It was weeks and +weeks before I could bear the slightest allusion to anything +"wonderful" without becoming conscious of an internal quiver. I fancy +Miss Pritchard must have given instructions as to the direction our +walks were to take. It was some little time before the governess led +us past the site of Bradford's Royal Theatre. When next we went that +way every vestige of the "temple of the drama" had disappeared. The +dingy--and odious--tent had gone. + +It was with a positive gasp of satisfaction that I recognised the +fact. A weight seemed lifted off my bosom, and my heart grew lighter +there and then. When, the walk being over, we returned, before anyone +could stop me, or had an inkling of my intention, I dashed headlong +into Miss Pritchard's private room. She was seated at the table +writing. + +"It's gone!" I cried. + +She must have been very quick of understanding. She did not ask me +what had gone. She just put her arm about me, as she had done before, +and pushed my hair from off my brow, and, I think, she laughed. + + + + + II + + CUPID'S MESSENGER + + +I do protest that it was not altogether my fault. At least--; but if I +tell you exactly how it was you will understand what I mean. + +I was fifteen. It was after I had left Miss Pritchard's. Not that I +was much wiser than I was when I was at Miss Pritchard's. Though that +was not my opinion at the time. In what I then called my judgment I +was the wisest person the world had ever seen--perhaps it would be +more correct to write that that was my estimate of myself as a +rule. There were between-whiles when I knew better. I was at Mrs +Sawyer's--Lingfield House School--at Brighton to be finished. And a +nice finish they made of me. + +It was the summer term and I was romantic, I had my phases. One term I +was cynical; another philosophical; a third filled with a wild +despair. That one I was all for sentiment. I had been reading all +manner of stuff, prose and poetry; I had even written some poems +myself. As I burned them years and years ago I do not mind owning it. +I was convinced that there was nothing in the world worth living for +except love. Given Love--it ought to have a capital L; in my poems it +always had--you had everything a reasonable being could desire. +Lacking it, wealth, fame, clothes, and even chocolate creams, were as +dust and ashes. + +There was, that term, a governess who must have been almost as great a +goose I was. I am not sure that she was quite so right in the head as +she might have been. She only stayed that term. Why Mrs Sawyer ever +had her is more than I can say. Her name was Frazer--Mamie Frazer. Her +autograph--suggestive of a fly slipping over the paper after a visit +to the inkstand--stares at me out of my birthday book at this moment. +She was the most speechless person I ever encountered. So to speak, +you might carry on a conversation with her for hours and she would +never say a word. As a listener she was immense. By degrees her +attitude so got upon your nerves that I, for one, would feel like +murder. + +"Say something!" I would beseech of her. "Do please say something! +Don't you know that I have been talking myself hoarse and you haven't +uttered a single word." + +She would only sigh. To a person who was fond of conversational +give-and-take it was trying. + +And the name of the girl who shared my bedroom was +Travers--Hester--generally known as Hetty--Travers. She was, well, she +is one of my dearest friends at this hour, and she may see this, so I +don't want to say anything to hurt her feelings, but she certainly was +a mischievous imp. Mischief brimmed out of her finger-tips. And the +point was that she had such an excessively demure air that you never +had the faintest notion that she was that kind of person till the +truth was forced upon you. Even then you gave her the benefit of the +doubt; or you tried to--at least I did--until it was obviously absurd +to attempt to do so any longer since there was no doubt. Reverence! +she did not know what it was. She had not a mite of respect for me, +though I was a good three months her senior. She used to make fun of +all the varying things I held most sacred--that is, while the mood was +on me. + +That inveterate habit of hers ought to have made me suspect her. But I +was ever a Una for innocence. She was always taking me in. She had an +insidious way about her which would take in anybody. + +One night we were going to bed. I had one stocking off, and was +wondering how the holes did get into the toes; I used to bribe other +girls to do my darning. It cost me frightful sums. We were talking +about other people's peculiarities, as was our agreeable custom. + +"You know Miss Frazer told me to walk with her when she took us out +to-night. I kept talking to her all the time, and yet the whole way +there and back she never spoke a word. I believe she's going mad." + +"I shouldn't wonder." + +Hetty was doing her hair. I was wishing she would make haste, because +she was using the only glass we had, and it seemed to me that she +never would have done with it. What discussions we had about that +looking-glass! We took it in turns to use it first, and whoever had +first turn used to hang on to it as if it was the Koh-i-noor. +Something struck me in her tone. + +"Why shouldn't you wonder?" + +"I shouldn't." This was cryptic. But I was aware that it was advisable +to give her a little rope. So I held my peace and found another hole. +And presently she added, "When a woman's heart is breaking she +sometimes does go mad." + +"Hetty!" + +I had been giving utterance to my sentiments on the subject of the +importance which love plays in human lives; I think I got them from +Byron. Hetty had been scoffing. I suspected her of paraphrasing my +words with mischievous intention. But it seemed that she was actually +in earnest. + +"You talk about love wrecking people's lives, as if you know anything +at all about it; I saw that paper-covered Byron in your workbox--and +you can't see what's taking place underneath your very eyes." + +"Hetty, what do you mean?" + +"Poor Miss Frazer!" + +She sighed, actually. Or she emitted a sound which appeared to me to +be a sigh. A light dawned on me. + +"You don't mean--you don't mean that you think that she's in love?" + +Miss Frazer was short, square, and squat. Sandy-haired, with not much +of that. Short-sighted, her spectacles would not keep straight owing +to the absence of a bridge on her abbreviated nose. Freckled, you +might have been able to stick a pin between some of the freckles, but +I doubt it. To me, then, she seemed ancient; but I suppose she was +about forty. And, considering her general appearance and style of +figure, she had a most unfortunate fondness for Scotch plaids. Up to +that moment my sentimentalism had been all theory. I had not +associated the tender passion with Miss Frazer. It was left for Hetty +to direct my theoretical sympathy into a practical channel. + +"Do I think? No, I do not think." + +"Do you know that she's in love?" + +"I know nothing. I want to know nothing. I will know nothing. But with +you, who are always talking, it is different." + +"Hetty, if you don't tell me what you mean, I--I--I'll throw my shoe +at you." + +"Throw away. You never hit anything you aimed at yet." She went on +calmly brushing her hair, as if she had not made me all over pins and +needles. Presently she gave utterance to an observation which was +Sphinx-like in its mystery: "A Frenchman thinks no more of breaking an +Englishwoman's heart than--than of eating his breakfast." + +"Hetty! what do you mean?" + +"Ask Monsieur Doumer." + +Monsieur Doumer! Ask Monsieur Doumer! Why, M. Doumer was our French +master, as unromantic-looking an example of the one sex as Miss Frazer +was of the other. He was immensely stout, perfectly bald-headed, with +cheeks and skin which looked as if they were covered with iron-mould, +because he never shaved them. That anything feminine could regard with +equanimity the prospect of being brought within measurable distance of +that scrubby countenance did seem incredible. And yet here was Hetty +hinting. + +"Do you mean to say that Miss Frazer's in love with M. Doumer?" + +"You say yourself that she seems to be going mad." + +"Yes; but I don't quite see what that has to do with it." + +"Not when a woman's being trampled on?" + +"Trampled on? Really, Hetty, I do wish you would say straight out what +it is you're driving at. You can't be suggesting that M. Doumer has +been literally trampling on Miss Frazer, because, since he weighs +about two tons, she'd have been killed upon the spot." + +"There are more ways of killing a pig than one." + +"You are mysterious. I daresay you think it's clever, but I think it's +stupid." + +"Are there not more ways of killing a pig than one?" + +"I daresay there may be; but I don't see what that has to do with Miss +Frazer." + +"I don't say that it has anything to do with Miss Frazer. But, as I +began by observing, when you consider how every Frenchman considers +himself entitled to treat an Englishwoman exactly as he pleases, and +perceive where Miss Frazer is plainly drifting, I should have thought +you would have been able to see something for yourself." She seemed to +me to be more mysterious than ever. "Perhaps," she added, as if by an +afterthought, "if someone were to take him to task, and give him to +understand that an Englishwoman is not a football for anyone to kick +about, matters might be brought to wear a different aspect. But no +doubt, as she is alone and unprotected, he knows that there is nothing +of that kind to be feared. Because, of course, no one is going to play +Don Quixote for a freckled Scotchwoman." + +"I don't see why not. I should have thought that the fact of her being +alone and--and not good-looking--would have made anyone with a grain +of chivalry in them stand up for her all the more on that account." + +"It looks like it! When you yourself just said that she is going mad +because of the way she has been treated." + +I had not said that or anything of the kind. I was trying to think of +what I had said when the door opened and Miss Frazer herself came in. +She had her watch in her hand, at which she was pointing an accusatory +finger. I do not know what time it was--she did not give us a chance +to see--but I expect it was later than we had supposed, because, +taking the candle off the dressing-table, she marched straight out of +the room with it without a word, and left us in total darkness. + +"Well," I exclaimed, "this is pleasant. I'm not undressed, you've had +the looking-glass all the time, and I haven't done a single thing to +my hair, and I never can do anything to it in the dark." + +"When a woman is in the state of mind in which she is, those who have +to do with her have to put up with her. Don't blame her. Don't even +think hard things of her. Try sometimes to practise, what you preach." + +What Hetty Travers meant I again had not the faintest notion. She +certainly had no right to hint such things of me. It seemed impossible +that the mere contemplation of Miss Frazer's doleful plight could have +moved her to tears; but while I fumbled with my hair in my indignant +efforts to do it up in one decent plait in the darkness she did make +some extraordinary noises, which might have been stifled sobs. + +The following morning, during recreation, when I went into the +schoolroom to get a book which I had left, I found Miss Frazer +crouching over her desk, not only what I should call crying, but +positively bellowing into her pocket-handkerchief. I stared at her in +astonishment. + +"Miss Frazer! What is the matter?" She bellowed on. A thought occurred +to me. "Has--has anyone been treating you badly?" + +Since she was so taciturn when calm, I expected her to be dumb when +torn by her emotions. But I was mistaken. Taking her handkerchief from +before her streaming eyes--her spectacles lay on the top of the desk, +and I noticed how comical she looked without them--she spluttered +out,-- + +"I'm the worst treated woman in the whole world!" + +"Someone has been making you unhappy?" + +"Cruelly, wickedly unhappy!" + +"But have you no one to whom you can go for advice and assistance?" + +"Not a single creature! Not a living soul! I am helpless! It is +because I am helpless that I am trampled on." + +Trampled on? I recalled Hetty's words. So she had been trampled on. +Was being trampled on at that very moment. My blood, as usual, began +to boil. Here was still another forlorn woman who had fallen a +helpless victim to what Lord Byron called the "divine fever." And so a +Frenchman did think that he could kick an Englishwoman about as if she +were a football! I jumped at my conclusions with an ease and a +rapidity which set all my pulses glowing. + +"Do you think that it would make any difference if anyone spoke for +you?" + +"It must make a difference; it must! It is impossible that it should +not make a difference! But who is there who would speak for me? Not +one being on the earth!" + +Was there not? There she was mistaken, as she should see. But I did +not tell her so. Indeed, she must have thought me also lacking in that +rare human sympathy, the absence of which she mourned in others, +because I hurried out of the schoolroom without another word. To be +entirely frank, I was more than half afraid. Unattractive enough in +her normal condition, she was absolutely repulsive in her woe. Had I +dared I would have advised her, strongly, never under any +circumstances to cry. But had I done so I might have wounded her +sensitive nature still more deeply. She might have started boohooing +with still greater vehemence. Then what would she have looked like? +And what would have happened to me? + +Mrs Sawyer had instructed me to go into town to get a particular kind +of drawing block for the drawing class which was to take place that +afternoon. I knew where M. Doumer lived. When a newcomer appeared in +his class it was his custom to present her--with an original article +in bows which we irreverently described as the "Doumer twiddle"--with +his card, in the corner of which was printed his address, so that the +place of his habitation was known to all of us. It was close to the +shop where they sold the drawing blocks. In returning one needed to go +scarcely out of one's way at all to pass his house. I made it my +business to pass his house. And when I reached it I marched straight +up to the door, and I knocked. + +The door was opened by a nondescript-looking person whom I took for +the landlady. There was a card in the window--"Apartments To Let"--so +I immediately concluded that M. Doumer lived in lodgings and that this +was the person who kept them. She was a small, thin, hungry, +acidulated female, who struck me as being an old maid of the most +pronounced type. I have a fatal facility for drawing instant definite +deductions from altogether insufficient premises which will one of +these days land me goodness alone knows where. + +"I wish to see M. Doumer." + +She led me into the room on the left, in the window of which appeared +the legend about apartments. + +"M. Doumer is out. Is it anything which I can say to him?" + +It struck me, even in the midst of the boiling-over state of mind in +which I was, that she might have informed me that the man was out +before taking me into the house. But I was in much too explosive a +condition to allow a trifle of that sort to deter me from letting off +some of my steam. + +"Will you please ask him what he means by the way in which he has +behaved to Miss Frazer?" + +To judge from the way in which she looked at me I might have said +something extraordinary. She had rather nut-cracker jaws, and all at +once her mouth went in such a way that one felt sure there must have +been a click. And she did look at me. + +"I don't understand," she said. + +"I don't understand either. That's why I want M. Doumer to explain. He +has been trampling on Miss Frazer, and broken her heart, so that she's +crying her eyes out." + +The landlady person had not quite closed the door when showing me into +the room, but had remained standing with her back to it, holding the +handle in her hand. Now she turned right round, carefully shut it +fast, and moved two or three steps towards me. There was something in +her behaviour which, in a person in her position, I thought odd. + +"Who are you?" + +She asked the question in an exceedingly inquisitorial sort of way. I +held up my chin as high as I could in the air. + +"I am Molly Boyes." + +"Molly Boyes?" She seemed to be searching in her mind for something +with which to associate the name. "I don't remember to have heard of +you." + +"Perhaps not. I shouldn't think it likely that you had. I don't +suppose that M. Doumer talks to everyone about all of his pupils." + +"Are you one of his pupils? + +"I am. I am at Lingfield House School, and I have been in his French +class for now going on for four terms." + +"And who's Miss-- What's-her-name? Is she another of the pupils?" + +"Miss Frazer is one of our governesses; and if he thinks that because +she is an Englishwoman he can use her as if she were a football he's +mistaken." + +"Use her as if she were a football? What do you mean? What's he been +doing to her?" + +"He's broken her heart, that's what he's been doing to her. And when I +came away just now she was crying so that if someone doesn't stop her +soon I know she'll do herself an injury." + +The landlady person made a noise with her nose which I should describe +as a sniff. She straightened herself up as if she were trying to add +another three or four inches to her stature, which would not have made +her very tall even if she had succeeded. + +"I thought as much. I have suspected it for months. But I am not one +to speak unless I know. The man's a regular Bluebeard." + +"A regular Bluebeard!--M. Doumer!" + +"A complete Don Juan. I have long been convinced of it. He fascinates +every woman he comes across. But he doesn't care." + +The idea of calling that barrel-shaped monster, with his shining +yellow head and scrubbing-brush physiognomy, a "complete Don Juan" so +filled me with astonishment that for a second or two I could only look +my feelings. + +"M. Doumer is not like my idea of Don Juan in the very least." + +"Indeed! And pray what do you know about Don Juan? A chit of your age! +At my time of life I suppose I may be allowed to know something of +what I'm talking about, and I tell you that I'm persuaded that he +breaks hearts like walnuts." + +"But--he's so ugly!" + +"Ugly! Maximilian Doumer ugly! Misguided girl! But it's not becoming +that I should discuss such subjects with a mere child like you. I know +what I know. But it is none the less my duty on that account to see +that he trifles with no woman's affections. And as his wife my duty +shall be done." + +When she said that I do believe the blood nearly froze in my veins. I +am sure it turned cold, because I know I shivered from head to foot. +His wife? She said his wife. And all the time I had been taking her +for his landlady and an old maid, and had been calling M. Doumer ugly, +and accusing him to her face of breaking Miss Frazer's heart. I do not +know why, but I had never imagined for a single moment that he could +be anything but a bachelor. We girls at Mrs Sawyer's had always taken +it for granted that he was. At least, the general impression on my +mind was that we had. The horror of the situation deprived me of the +use of the tiny scrap of sense which I possessed. My own impulse was +to run for it. But it was far from being Madame Doumer's intention +that I should do anything of the kind. And though I think that she was +in every respect smaller than I was, I am convinced that I never +encountered a person of whom I all at once felt so much afraid. I +stammered out something. + +"I--I'm afraid I must go." + +I made a faltering movement towards the door. She simply placed +herself in my way and crushed me. + +"You must what?" + +"I--I shall be late for dinner." + +"Then you will be late for dinner. You will not quit this apartment +until M. Doumer returns. Not that that will necessitate your being +detained long, because here he is." + +I had been desirous of seeing M. Doumer, even anxious. In order to do +so I had gone a good deal out of my way, and behaved in a +characteristically considerate manner. But so far as I could judge, +amid the rush of very curious sensations with which I was struggling, +on a sudden, the entire situation had changed. It was far from +being my wish to have an interview with him at that particular moment. +Quite the contrary. I really do not know what I would not have +given--certainly all the remainder of that term's pocket-money!--to +have escaped such an encounter. Picture, therefore, my sensations when +I heard the garden gate slam, the front door open, a heavy footstep +enter the hall, and, on Madame Doumer opening the sitting-room door, +perceived her husband standing without. + +"Here is someone who wants to see you." + +The lady's tone was sour as sour could be, and what she said was +perfectly untrue. I could have wanted nothing less. I should have been +only too glad to have been able to disappear up the chimney on a +broomstick, or on nothing at all, if I could only have got out of that +room. In came M. Doumer, all smiles and smirks, looking to me more +shiny-headed and scrubbing-brush faced than ever. + +"Ah!--it is Miss Boyes!--Sarah"--he addressed his wife as Sarah, and +she looked it--"this is one of my charming pupils at Lingfield House +School." + +"So she's not an impostor. That's something." The insinuation made my +cheeks flame. "You appear to have a number of charming pupils, M. +Doumer. Is Miss Frazer one of them?" + +"Miss Frazer? Who is Miss Frazer?" He turned to me. "Is that the young +lady who joined the class a week or two ago? I have forgotten her +name." + +I was tongue-tied. A conviction was stealing over me that the whole +thing was a hideous mistake, that I had been making a spectacle of +myself on an unusually handsome scale. The tone in which he put his +question was sincerity itself. It was impossible to suspect him of an +intention to deceive. At least I should have thought so, though it +pleased his wife, apparently, to think otherwise. + +"It is odd that you should have forgotten the name of the woman whose +heart you have broken." + +"Whose heart I have broken?" + +"Though perhaps that is because it has become such a frequent custom +of yours to trample your victims under foot that one more or less is +hardly worth your noticing." + +"My dear, I do not understand." + +He evidently did not. He looked from one to the other of us as if +struck by a sudden foreboding that there was trouble in the air. Such +a comical-looking distress came over his peculiar physiognomy that I +positively began to feel sorry for him. + +"Still, considering that a short time ago she was crying to such a +degree that it was feared that she might do herself an injury--all +because of you!--it does seem strange that you cannot even remember +her name." + +He held out his hands in front of him in the funny way we knew so +well. + +"My dear, of what are you talking? I wish that you would explain." + +"It seems that that is what she wants you to do. She has sent this +insignificant child to demand an explanation." + +He turned to me. + +"She has sent you? Who has sent you? Miss Frazer?--who is Miss +Frazer?" + +"She's one of the governesses." + +"One of the governesses?--which of the governesses?" + +"So there are several. It is to be hoped that you haven't broken the +hearts of the entire staff. It is plain that you know them all." + +"My dear, I have to meet these ladies in the performance of my +duties." + +I thrust in my oar. + +"M. Doumer, I've made a mistake, I know I've made a mistake--I'm sure +of it. I've been very silly. Madame Doumer, I'm quite sure I've made a +mistake; please do let me go." + +"So that's the tone you take on now. It was a different one at first. +I can see as far through a brick wall as most people, and I rather +fancy that there may be a brick wall here. Perhaps you expected to see +M. Doumer alone." + +"I did; I thought he was a bachelor." + +"Oh-h!--now I begin to see. You thought he was a bachelor. I suppose, +M. Doumer, that that is because you have always behaved as a bachelor. +In your profession it is so easy. And with your natural advantages, so +much more agreeable." + +"I tell you, Madame Doumer, it's a mistake. It's all my fault. I have +been silly. I am so sorry, I beg your pardon and M. Doumer's too. +Please forgive me!--and let me go!" + +"Oh, you shall go. And I'm as sure as you are that there's a +mistake--somewhere. Exactly where I intend to ascertain. So M. Doumer +and I will go with you. I will request to be introduced to this Miss +Frazer, and M. Doumer shall make the explanation you require before +her face. Then we shall know precisely where the mistake has lain." + +The prospect of such a climax to my adventure as her words suggested +appalled me into something approaching a fury. I made a little rush at +her. + +"You sha'n't keep me!--I will go!" + +She looked me straight in the face. Then she moved towards me. As she +advanced I retreated. I found the little woman very terrible. M. +Doumer tried his hand at expostulation. + +"My dear, you do not know what you talk about. If you do not take care +you will do mischief--great mischief I do not know what silly tale +Miss Boyes has been telling you, but there is not a word of truth in +it, whatever it is." He seemed to have a way of taking certain things +for granted which was nice for me! "You must not listen to the talk of +silly girls--never! never!" + +He waved his hand as if he were dismissing the matter finally as being +unworthy anyone's consideration. His wife, however, regarded neither +his words nor his gestures. She spoke to him as if it were hers to +command and his to obey. + +"Go upstairs and get my hat, my coat, my gloves and my umbrella; and +be quick about it. I have no intention of quitting this apartment +until this young person quits it with me. Nor do I propose to leave +you two together to arrange an explanation of the mistake between you +and to hatch plots behind my back. Did you hear what I told you to get +me?" + +He did hear; and he obeyed. Some faint attempt at remonstrance he +ventured on. But he might as well have spoken to a wooden image. +Though it certainly is true that a figure of that description would +not have been quite so dictatorial. She opened the door, she pointed +through it with her fingers. Shrugging his shoulders, with an air of +piteous resignation he went in the direction in which the finger +pointed. During his absence not a word was spoken, his wife contenting +herself with looking me up and down in a way I never was looked at +either before or since. I felt as if I were momentarily dwindling in +size. She called out to him. + +"How long are you going to be up there?" + +"Coming, my dear, coming!" + +And he came. + +A delightful walk we had, three abreast. The lady was in the centre, +her husband on the left, I on the right. She treated us as if we were +prisoners. I am sure I felt like one. Every now and then M. Doumer +endeavoured to induce his wife to listen to a word or two of what he +considered reason. She snapped him into silence. In vain he tried to +make her realise the indignity of the situation into which she was +thrusting both of us. Not a syllable would she have of it. Forced into +speechlessness, he hinted at what was taking place within him by a +variety of odd little gestures which, had I not been so conscious of +my own ignominy, would have made me laugh outright in the street. + +We reached Lingfield House. Madame made Monsieur knock at the door. +But when it was opened it was she who inquired if Mrs Sawyer was in. +It is my impression that he would have turned tail even at the last +moment had she not insisted on his entering first, with me next, while +she herself brought up the rear. We were shown into a sitting-room, +where presently Mrs Sawyer appeared. M. Doumer, who had been fidgeting +about like a cat on hot bricks, at once burst into speech. + +"Mrs Sawyer, will you permit me to explain to you that I do not +know--" + +His wife cut short his flow of eloquence. + +"M. Doumer, I will say all that is necessary. I am Madame Doumer, the +wife of M. Doumer." Mrs Sawyer bowed. "Have you a person here of the +name of Frazer?" + +"Miss Frazer? Certainly, she is one of my governesses." Mrs Sawyer +turned to me. "Molly, we have begun dinner without you. Where have you +been?" + +I essayed to explain, though I do not know what sort of explanation I +should have offered. But Madame Doumer was acting as explainer-in-chief. + +"She has been to visit M. Doumer. It is on that account that I am +here; very much on that account. May I ask you to request Miss Frazer +to favour us with her company? It is indispensable that what has to be +said should be said in Miss Frazer's presence." + +"I don't understand," began Mrs Sawyer. + +She did look puzzled. And no wonder. M. Doumer interrupted. + +"My dear, once more I beg of you to permit me to say--" + +But his wife would not. + +"Silence, sir! If you will be so good as to request Miss Frazer to +come into this room I will endeavour to make myself as plain as the +extremely peculiar circumstances will permit." + +The end of it was that Miss Frazer was requested to come, and she +came. She evidently had not a notion why she had been sent for. She +gazed at us like a startled sheep. Mrs Sawyer introduced her. + +"This is Miss Frazer. Miss Frazer, this is Madame Doumer. It appears +that she has something which she wishes to say to you." + +Miss Frazer looked more sheep-like than before; Madame Doumer could +not have regarded her as a dangerous rival. But her manner could not +have been more acid if Miss Frazer had been a queen of beauty. + +"It is not my intention to give offence, therefore I trust that no +offence will be taken. But it is my duty, as a woman, to invite you to +state, publicly, what grounds you have for the assertion that M. +Doumer has broken your heart." + +"Broken my heart!" + +Instantly Miss Frazer was all of a fluster, which was not surprising. + +"And, also, why you charge him with trampling on you." + +"Trampling on me? Why, I have never spoken to M. Doumer!" + +M. Doumer was promptly in the breach. + +"There, my dear--you hear! What did I say to you? What did I say? I +have never spoken to this lady in my life--nor she to me! So far as I +recollect I have not had the pleasure of seeing her before." + +"Then what do you mean?" This question was addressed to me. I was +beginning to ask myself what I could have meant. Oh, my feelings! +"What do you mean by coming and telling me that this person was crying +as if she would do herself an injury because of the way in which she +had been treated by M. Doumer? And by saying that she had sent you to +demand from him an explanation?" + +"I did not say that she had sent me, I did not say it! And you were +crying, Miss Frazer, you know you were!" + +"Crying?" + +"You know that I came and found you crying in the schoolroom." + +She began to cry again then and there. As for me, I was swimming in +tears already. + +"I know that I was crying, but it wasn't because of that." + +Mrs Sawyer interposed. + +"Gently, Miss Frazer. Perhaps, if we keep cool, by degrees we shall +begin to understand what this is all about. Can you tell us what you +were crying about when this impulsive young lady intruded on your +grief?" + +"I was crying because of what you said to me." + +"Because of what I said to you?" + +It was Mrs Sawyer's turn to look bewildered. + +"You said that you didn't wish me to wear plaids, not even my own +plaid, and--I'm--a--Frazer!" + +Exactly what happened afterwards I do not know. Mrs Sawyer bundled me +out of the room and up to my bedroom. And well I deserved it. And more +besides. + +I threw myself on to the bed in a passion of sobs, though I could not +pretend to emulate the boo-hooing I had left Miss Frazer indulging in +downstairs. What an imbecile I was to suppose that she was bellowing +like a bull calf because of the injury M. Doumer had wrought her +virgin heart, when all the time it was because Mrs Sawyer had ventured +to suggest that she did not think plaids were altogether suited to her +style of figure, and that, in particular, the one to which she was +partial was a trifle obvious. What a Frazer she must have been! And +how devoted to the Frazer plaid! + +I could have beaten myself. I was wild with everyone--with Madame +Doumer, with Miss Frazer, and, last but not least, with Hetty Travers, +that I should have allowed her to delude me into believing that +unrequited love was driving Miss Frazer mad, and that it would be +playing a chivalrous part to take that deceitful Frenchman to task. +When, as soon as she had swallowed her dinner, Hetty stole up to learn +what had become of me, I stormed at her like some wild thing. When she +understood what I had been doing, instead of exhibiting penitence, or +the least scrap of sympathy, she burst into peal after peal of +laughter. I could have shaken her. But she had such a way about her, +and could be so lovely when she chose, that, by degrees, I forgave +her, though I never meant to. That tale was told. Everybody in the +place had it off by heart within four-and-twenty hours. I believe that +Miss Frazer blurted it out to one or two of them; it seemed that she +could talk when she was not wanted to. And, of course, they told +everybody else. I never heard the last of it while I was at Lingfield +House. Mrs Sawyer merely remarked, with that dry smile which was +peculiar to her, that she had always found young ladies difficult +creatures to manage, but that I certainly did seem to be a curiosity +even among girls. + +And when I look back, and go hot all over--as I do when I recall that +adventure to this hour--I really am disposed to think I must have +been. + + + + + III + + THE OGRE + + +Mother died while sitting in her chair writing to me. It was tea-time, +and she did not come, so Con went to see what she was doing. She was +leaning over her writing-table, and as she did not seem to have +noticed his coming in--though I am sure that he made noise enough, +because he always did--he called out to her. + +"Mother! tea's on the table!" + +Then, as she neither moved nor answered, he ran forward and put his +hand upon her shoulder. + +"Mother!" + +When he found how still she was, and how unresponsive to his touch, he +rushed off, frightened half out of his wits. + +Then they all trooped into the room and found that she was dead. She +had a pen in her hand, and a sheet of paper in front of her, and had +begun the first line of a letter to me--"My dear Molly." Death must +have come upon her as she was writing my name, for there is a blot at +the end of it, as if her pen had jabbed into the paper. No one knew +what she was going to say to me, or ever will. It was just her weekly +letter--she wrote to me each Monday. And I expect she was just going +to tell me the home news: what Nora had been doing, and what mischief +the boys had been in, and beg me to be a good girl and think before I +did things sometimes, and keep my stockings darned; those stockings +were almost as great a trouble to her as they were to me. Not a +creature had a notion that she was ailing. Indeed she was not. She was +in good spirits--mother always was in good spirits!--and in perfect +health half-an-hour before. It seemed that something extraordinary +must have happened to her heart, which no one could have expected. +Death must have come upon her in an instant. She must have gone before +she had the least idea of what was going to happen. When she got to +heaven how grieved she must have been to think that she had been +compelled to leave us all without a word. + +Never shall I forget receiving the telegram at Mrs Sawyer's. We were +just going to bed, and the last train was nearly due to start. But I +rushed off to catch it; and Mrs Sawyer went with me. She bought my +ticket and sent a telegram to let them know that I was coming. At the +other end I had a drive of nearly six miles. It seemed the middle of +the night when I got home. + +The state the house was in! And the children! They were in much more +need of help than mother was. She was calm enough. When I first saw +her I could not believe that she was dead. I thought that she was +sleeping, and dreaming one of those happy dreams which, she used to +tell us, she liked to dream. On her face was the smile with which she +always greeted me. She always did look happy, mother did; but I never +saw her look happier than when she was lying dead. + +But the children! They were half beside themselves. It was dreadful; +the boys especially. We could not get Con away from the bed on which +mother lay. And Dick, great fellow though he was, was almost as bad. +The whole house was topsy-turvy. Nobody knew what to do; everybody +seemed to have lost their wits. + +That is how it was the Ogre came on the scene. Of course his name was +not the Ogre. It was Miller--Stephen Miller. But it was not very long +before we only knew him as the Ogre among ourselves. He was not very +tall, but he was big; at least, he seemed big to us. He had a loud +voice, and a loud way about him generally. We liked neither his looks +nor his manners--nor had mother liked them either. But at the +beginning I do not know what we should have done without him. That is, +I did not know then what we should have done. Though I am inclined to +think now that if we had been left to ourselves, and been forced to +act, we should have done as well, if not better. Yet one must confess +that at the very beginning he was a help, though a comfort one never +could have called him. + +He was our nearest neighbour. His house was about half a mile down the +lane. It was only a cottage. He inhabited it with a dreadful drunken +old woman as his only servant. It was said that he could get no one +else to stop in the house. He himself was not a teetotaller, and his +general character was pretty bad. He seemed to have enough money to +live on, because he did nothing except go about with a lot of dogs at +his heels. In the charitable way which children have of talking we +used to say that he was hiding from the law, and would speculate as to +the nature of the crime of which he had been guilty. When he first +came he tried to cultivate mamma's acquaintance, but she would have +nothing to do with him, and would scarcely recognise him when she met +him in the lane. I once heard Dick speak of him as an "unmannerly +ruffian"; but I never knew why. And as Dick, like his sister Molly, +sometimes said stronger things than the occasion warranted, I did not +pay much heed. + +The morning after mother's death he came marching into the house to +ask if he could be of any assistance. No one, so far as I could ever +gather, said either yes or no, which shows the condition we were in. +He seems to have taken our consent for granted--to such an extent that +he at once took into his hands the entire management of everything. He +managed the inquest--for that I was grateful. Oh, that dreadful +inquest! He also managed the funeral; for his services in that +direction my gratitude assumed a mitigated form. Although the world +was still upside down, and everything seemed happening in a land of +topsy-turvydom, I yet was conscious that a good deal took place at +mother's funeral which I would rather had not have taken place. For +one thing I felt sure that a great quantity of money was being spent +on it, much more than need have been. A number of people were invited +who had not the slightest right to be present, so that we children +were almost lost amid a crowd of strangers. In spite of the dreadful +trouble I was in it made me burn when I saw them. Many of them were +people whom mother would never have allowed to enter the house. Then +there was an excessive amount of eating and drinking, especially +drinking. Some time after we had returned from the grave I went into +the hall and there were rows of bottles stacked against the wall. A +lot of people seemed to be in the drawing and dining-rooms, who were +talking at the top of their voices. I could not go in to see what it +meant then--but I could guess. + +But the trouble really began after the funeral was over. + +We children were in such a strange position. So far as we knew, except +mother we had not a relation in the world. There certainly were none +with whom we were in communication. I had always fancied, from what +mother said, that she and father were married without the approval of +their relatives. I did not know if it was father's or mother's side +which objected, but I felt sure it was one or the other. And I thought +it was just possible that it was both. I believe that, when father +died, mother was not nicely treated. This hurt her pride, because, +though she was such a darling, and so sweet, and beautiful, and +clever, and true, and tender, she was proud, as she had every right to +be. And I think, because they were so unkind, she took us straight off +to that Sussex village, miles and miles away from everyone, and bought +The Chase. Con was a baby when father died, and now he was nearly +eleven, so we must have been there quite nine years. And during all +that time I do not think we ever had a visitor. This may sound +incredible, but I do not remember one. Not that people were +unfriendly. But then there were so few people thereabouts. And those +who were there mother did not seem to care for. They were either +country folk, villagers, farmers, and that sort of thing, or else they +were very rich people, who were scattered here and there. I know they +called; but I also know that mother did not encourage their advances. +She used to tell us, laughingly, that she had six children, and that +they were society enough for her. + +But the consequence was that when she was gone we knew nothing about +anything. We did not know who or where she got her money from, or what +money she had. In two months I should be sixteen. That was to be my +last term at school. And it is my belief that it was her intention, +when I left school for good, to tell me everything, or at least as +much as it was desirable that I should know. But if such was her +intention she had gone before she had a chance of putting it into +execution, or of dropping a hint, or even saying a word. And there we +were, as ignorant and as helpless a family as ever was seen upon this +earth. + +It was under these circumstances that the Ogre showed a disposition +to take entire control as if everything about the place--we +included--belonged to him. Already there had not been wanting signs +that the entire establishment more than sufficiently appreciated the +change which had taken place. One of the chief difficulties with which +mother had had to contend had been servants. In that remote part of +the world it was almost impossible to get them. And sometimes when +they were got they were hardly worth house-room. At the time mother +died there were five--cook and two housemaids, a coachman, who was +also gardener because his duties as coachman did not occupy anything +like the whole of his time, and an odd lad, who was supposed to do +whatever he was asked to do. The cook was a new one--she had come +since my last holidays. On the day of mother's funeral she was +intoxicated; she had indulged too freely in the refreshments which Mr +Miller had so liberally ordered. So it may be imagined what sort of +character she must have been. The next morning the housemaid, who had +been with us longest, came and told me that she could not continue in +a house in which there was no mistress. When I mildly suggested that I +was the mistress now she remarked, quite frankly, that she could not +think of taking her orders from me. Mr Miller, who had been standing +at the morning-room door, listening, called her in to him. The details +of what took place between them I never learned. But that afternoon +she took herself off without another word to me. When, after she had +gone, I went into mother's room, I found that all sorts of things were +missing. I feared that Mary Sharp had taken them, and that that was +the real explanation of her anxiety to depart. It made me conscious of +such an added sense of misery, the feeling that henceforward we were +going to be taken advantage of by everyone. + +But the Ogre was the thorn in our sides. The day after Mary left we +held a council of war in Dick's bedroom. + +"I'm not going to stand this sort of thing," Dick announced. "And the +sooner that beggar downstairs is brought to understand as much the +better. Why, he's messing about with mother's papers at this very +moment." + +"A punch on the nose would do him good," declared Jack. He is one of +the twins. + +"A sound licking wouldn't do him any harm," added Jim. He is the other +twin. + +"He'll get both if he doesn't take care." + +Dick drew himself up as straight as a dart. Although he was only +fifteen he was five feet eight inches high, and as strong as +anything--and so good-looking. + +"But surely mother must have left a will. There must be something to +tell us what is going to happen." + +That was what I said. Dick took up my words at once. + +"That point shall soon be settled. We'll go down and tackle the beggar +right away." + +Off we trooped to interview the Ogre in a body. He was in the +morning-room--mother's own particular apartment. Outside the door we +might have hesitated, but it was only for a moment. In strode Dick, +and in we all went after him. The Ogre seemed surprised and not too +pleased to see us. A bottle and a glass were on the table; both of +those articles seemed to be his inseparable companions. One of his +horrid dogs, which had been lying on the hearth-rug, came and sniffed +at us as if we were the intruders. The whole room was in confusion. It +looked as if it had not been tidied for days, and I daresay it had not +been. When I thought of how different it used to be when it was +mother's very own room, a pang went right through my heart. I could +not keep the tears out of my eyes; and it was only because I was so +angry that I managed to choke them back again. Papers and things were +everywhere. At the moment of our entrance he had both his hands full +of what I was convinced were mother's private letters. + +It did seem like sacrilege, that that disreputable-looking man, with +his pipe stuck in the corner of his mouth, who was nothing and no one +to us, should be handling mother's treasures as if they were so much +rubbish. I am almost certain that if I had been a big strong giant I +should have been tempted to knock him down. It was not surprising that +Dick spoke to him in the fiery way he did. When I looked at him I saw +that he had gone red all over, and that his eyes were gleaming. He was +not very polite in his manner, but more polite than the Ogre deserved. + +"What are you doing with those things? What do you want here at all?" + +The Ogre glanced up, then down again. I do not believe he could meet +Dick's eyes. He smiled--a nasty smile, for which I could have pinched +him. And he continued to turn over the things which he was holding. + +"My dear boy, I'm putting these papers into something like order. I +never saw anything like the state of confusion which everything is +in." + +"Don't call me your dear boy! And what business of yours is it what +state they're in? Who asked you to put them in order? What right have +you to touch them?" + +The Ogre calmly went on with what he was doing as if Dick was a person +of not the slightest consequence. And he continued to indulge in that +extremely objectionable smile. + +"You haven't a very nice way of asking questions. And some people +might think that the questions themselves were a little suggestive of +ingratitude." + +"What have I to be grateful for? I never asked you to come here. You +are not a friend of ours." + +"That you most emphatically are not!" + +It was I who came blazing out with that. He looked at me out of the +corner of his bloodshot eyes, his smile more pronounced than ever. + +"Now, Miss Molly, that's unkind of you." + +I was in a rage. + +"You appear to be oblivious of the fact that you were not even an +acquaintance of my mother's; and as those persons she did not wish to +know we do not care to know either, we shall be obliged by your +leaving the house at your earliest possible convenience." + +"Inside two seconds," added Dick. + +"Perhaps you'd like a little assistance." + +"It's always to be got." + +These two remarks came from the twins. The Ogre laid down on the table +what he had been holding. A very ugly look came on his face. + +"This is an extraordinary world. I don't want to say anything +offensive--" + +"You can say what you like," cried Dick. + +"I intend to, my lad." + +"Don't call me your lad!" + +The Ogre looked at Dick. And this time he gave him glance for glance. +And I knew, from the expression which was on both their faces, that if +we were not careful there was going to be trouble. I am not sure that +my heart did not quail. The Ogre spoke as if my brother was unworthy +even his contempt. + +"Mr Dick Boyes, you appear to be under the impression that you are +still at school, and can play the bully here, and treat me as I have +no doubt you are in the habit of treating the smaller chaps there. You +never made a greater mistake in the course of your short life. I am +not the kind of man who will allow himself to be bullied by a +hobbledehoy. I give you fair warning that if you treat me to any of +your insolence the consequences will be on your own head--and other +parts of you as well. Don't you flatter yourself that the presence of +your little sisters will shield you from them." + +"Throw something at him!" + +"Down him with a pail of water!" + +These suggestions proceeded from the twins. The Ogre turned his +attention to them. + +"If you two youngsters want a row you shall have it. And it will take +the shape of the best licking you've ever had yet. You'll not be the +first pair of unmannerly cubs I've had to take in hand." + +I spoke; I wanted peace. + +"There's not the slightest necessity for you to talk like that, Mr +Miller. We're quite willing to believe that you're more than a match +for any number of helpless children. But this is our house--" + +"Indeed! Are you sure of that?" + +"Of course I am sure. Do you mean to say that it is not?" + +"At present I am saying nothing. I only advise you not to be too +confident on a point on which some very disagreeable surprise may be +in store for you." + +"At anyrate, it is not your house. And all we ask--with all possible +politeness--is that you should leave it." + +"So that is all you ask. It seems to me to be a good deal." + +"I don't know why it should. If you were a gentleman it would not be +necessary to ask you twice." + +"If I were a gentleman? I suppose if I came up to a school-girl's +notion of what a gentleman ought to be--a sort of glorified schoolboy. +I'm a good deal older than you, Miss Boyes--" + +"You certainly are!" + +"I certainly am, thank goodness!" + +"I am glad you are thankful for something." + +"I am glad that you are glad. As I was observing, when you interrupted +me, I am older than you--for which I have every cause to be +thankful--and my experience of the world has taught me not to pay much +heed to a girl's display of temper. I undertook the management of +affairs at your own request--" + +"At my request? It's not true!" + +A voice came from behind me. Looking round, there, in the doorway, +was cook; and, on her heels, Betsy, the remaining housemaid. +While--actually!--at the open window was Harris, the coachman, staring +into the room as if what was taking place was the slightest concern of +his. It was cook's voice which I heard, raised in accents of surprise, +as if my point-blank denial of the Ogre's wicked falsehood had amazed +her. + +"Oh, Miss Molly, however can you say such a thing! When I heard you +thanking Mr Miller with my own ears! And after all he has done for +you. Well, I never did!" + +"What did you hear?" + +"I heard Mr Miller ask you in the hall if there was anything he could +do for you, and you said you'd be very much obliged. Then he went on +to say, I'm sure as kind as kind could be, that if you liked he'd take +the whole trouble off your hands and manage everything; and you said,' +Thank you.' And now for you to stand there and declare you didn't, and +to behave to him like this after all he's done for you, in one so +young I shouldn't have believed that it was possible." + +In the first frenzy of my grief and bewilderment I had scarcely +understood what I was saying to anybody. I remembered Mr Miller +coming, as cook said, but that anything which had been said on either +side had been intended to bear the construction which was being put +upon it was untrue. + +"I was not in a state of mind to understand much of what Mr Miller was +saying, but I supposed that he was offering to assist in the +arrangements for mother's funeral, and that offer I accepted." + +"You did so. And what you'd have done without him I can't think. He +arranged everything--and beautifully too. He's made the family more +thought of in this neighbourhood than it ever was before. If ever +helpless orphans had a friend in need you've had one in him--you have +that." + +Betsy had her say. + +"He got us our black. There wouldn't have been a word said about it by +anyone if it hadn't been for him." + +"And he bought me two suits of clothes--blacks." + +That was Harris, at the window. + +"Bought you two suits of clothes!" + +"Yes, miss," said cook, "we've all of us had full mourning, as was +only decent. And I happen to know that Mr Miller paid for it. Indeed, +he paid for everything. And considering the handsome way in which it +has all been done, nothing stinted, nothing mean, a pretty penny it +must have cost." + +I exchanged glances with Dick and perceived that we were both of +opinion that we had had enough of cook. I told her so. + +"I have heard what you have had to say. And now, please, will you +leave the room?" + +"Excuse me, miss, but that's exactly what I don't intend to do--not +till I know how I stand." + +"How you stand?" + +"I'll soon tell you how you stand," declared Dick. "You'll be paid a +month's wages and you'll take yourself off." + +"Oh, shall I, sir? That's just the sort of thing I thought you would +say after the way you've been trying to behave to Mr Miller. And in +any case I shouldn't think of stopping in the house with a pack of +rude, ungrateful children. But I should like more than one month's +wages, if it's the same to you. There's three months nearly due. I've +not had one penny since I've been inside this house." + +"Not since you've been inside this house?" + +"Not one penny; and it's getting on for three months now." + +"But I thought mother always paid you every month regularly." + +"Did she, miss? Then perhaps you'll prove it. She never paid me; nor +more she didn't Betsy. There's three months owing to you, isn't there, +Betsy?" + +"That there is." + +"And so there is to you, isn't there, Harris?" + +"Well--I don't know that it's quite three months." + +"Why, you told me yourself as how it was." + +Harris tilted his hat on one side and scratched his head as if to jog +his memory. + +"Well--it might be." + +At this Dick fired up. + +"It's all a pack of lies! I'm sure that my mother paid you your wages +as they fell due, and that you're trying to cheat us." + +Then it was cook's turn. + +"Don't you talk to me like that, not if you do call yourself a young +gentleman. And I'll learn you to know that a woman of my age is not +going to be called a cheat by a young lad like you. You ought to be +ashamed of yourself, that's what you ought to be, standing there +disgracing of yourself." + +The Ogre held up his hand, as if to play the part of peacemaker. + +"Gently, cook, gently. You leave it to me and I will see that you have +what is due to you. We must remember how ignorant these young people +are of their position, and try to make allowances. Though I grant that +under the circumstances it's a little difficult." He put his hands +into his trouser pockets, tilted back the chair on which he was +seated, and considered the ceiling. "What I intend to do is this. At +Miss Molly's request I have, reluctantly, incurred certain liabilities +and assumed certain responsibilities. To know exactly what those +responsibilities are it is necessary that I should examine thoroughly +the condition of affairs. When I have done so--it cannot, I am sorry +to say, be done in a moment--I will lay the results before the more +responsible members of the family--if there are any such--and without +waiting for the thanks which I possibly shall not receive I will at +once withdraw." + +Such a prospect did not commend itself to me at all. That we were +already being cheated all round I was sure. That we ran a great risk +of being cheated to a much more serious extent if the Ogre was allowed +to do as he suggested I felt equally convinced. And in any case I did +not want his interference in our private affairs. It was dreadful to +think of him peering and prying into mother's secrets, into the things +which she held sacred. The way he was behaving now showed how much we +could trust him and what use he would make of any knowledge he might +acquire. Instead of being our friend he would be our bitterest enemy. +And yet I did not see how we were going to get rid of him without a +desperate struggle--of which, after all, we might get the worst. + +But I was not going to let him see that I was afraid of him. + +"Where is the money which was in mother's desk?" + +"Money? What money?" + +"Mother always kept a large sum of money in her desk. You have had +access to her desk, though you'd no right to touch it. How much was +there? and where is it now?" + +"I've seen no money." + +"Why, it is with mother's money that you have been paying for +everything." + +"I wish it had been. I've been paying for every blessed thing out of +my own pocket." + +"That's a lie!" shouted Dick. "I know there was money in her desk." + +"Look here, my lad--if you'll excuse my calling you my lad--the next +time you speak to me like that I'll make you smart for it. Now, don't +you expect another warning." + +"That's right," cried cook. "You give him a good sound thrashing, Mr +Miller. He wants it. Accusing everyone of robbing him, when it's him +who's trying to rob everybody!" + +The Ogre brought down his clenched fist heavily on the table. + +"Listen to me, you children. For all you know, and for all I know, +you're nothing but a lot of paupers; and if you don't want to find +yourself inside a workhouse you'll leave it to me to make the best of +things. So now you've got it." + +We had got it. I saw Dick's cheeks blanch. I was conscious that my own +went pale. If the awful thing at which he hinted was true, then things +were miles worse than I had ever supposed. But was it true? And how, +with him sitting there, were we going to look for proof of either its +truth or falsehood? + +Just as I was beginning to fear that I should make a goose of myself +and cry, I heard someone come up the front doorsteps and ask,-- + +"Is Miss Boyes at home? Miss Molly Boyes?" + +I rushed out into the hall. There, standing at the hall door, which +was wide open, was the handsomest man I had ever seen. He was very +tall and sunburned. He had his cap in his hand, so that you could see +that he had short curly hair. And his moustache was just beginning to +come. I wondered if he was a harbinger of more trouble. He did not +look as if he was; but he might be. + +"I am Molly Boyes." + +"My name is Sanford. I am afraid I ought to apologise for my +intrusion, but I am a cousin of Hetty Travers, who tells me you are a +friend of hers. I am staying a few miles from here, and she has +written to say that she is afraid you are in trouble, and to ask me to +run over and see if I can be of assistance." + +Hetty's cousin! That did not sound like trouble. How sweet of her to +think of me, and to send that great strong man! She might have guessed +what was happening to us--the dear! + +"I am in trouble. I have lost my mother. And now, there is Mr Miller." + +"Mr Miller? Who is he?" + +The children had already trooped into the hall. Then Dick appeared. I +introduced him. + +"This is my brother Dick. Dick, this is Mr Sanford, a cousin of Hetty +Travers. You have heard me speak of Hetty. Mr Sanford has come to know +if he can be of any assistance to us." + +"If you really would like to do something to help us--" + +There Dick stopped, as if in doubt. + +"I should," said Mr Sanford. + +I rather fancied from the way he smiled that he had taken a liking to +Dick upon the spot. I did so hope he had. + +"Then perhaps you'll lend me a hand in chucking this man Miller +through the window. He's almost a size too large for me. Come inside +here." + +We all trooped back into the morning-room, Mr Sanford and Dick in +front. Dick pointed to the Ogre. + +"You see that individual. His name's Miller. He's taken possession of +the place as though it belongs to him; he's made free with my mother's +property and papers; and when I ask him to leave the house he talks +about treating me to a good sound thrashing." + +"He does, does he? Is he a relation of yours?" + +"Relation! He's not even an acquaintance. He came here uninvited when +my mother lay dead, took advantage of the state of mind we were in to +gain a footing in the house, and now we can't get rid of him." + +Mr Sanford turned to me. + +"Is it your wish, Miss Boyes, that this person should leave the +house?" + +"It is very much my wish. He knows it is." + +"You hear, sir. I hope it is not necessary to emphasise the wish which +Miss Boyes has expressed so clearly." + +Cook struck in. + +"A pretty way of talking, upon my word. Perhaps, my fine gentleman, +while you are putting your nose into other people's business you'll +see that our wages are paid. Mr Miller's only trying to save us from +being robbed, that's all he's doing. Three months' wages there is due +to each of us servants, and over." + +Mr Sanford paid no heed at all to cook. He continued to eye the Ogre. + +"Well, sir?" + +"Well, sir, to you." + +"You heard what I said?" + +"I did. And if you are wise you'll hear what I say, and not interfere +in what is absolutely no concern of yours." + +"Nothing in this house is any concern of yours," burst out Dick. "And +well you know it!" + +"Who's dog is this?" asked Mr Sanford. + +The Ogre's dog--a horrid, savage-looking creature--was sniffing at Mr +Sanford's ankles, showing his teeth and growling in a way that was +anything but friendly. Its owner grinned, as if the animal's behaviour +met with his approval. + +"That's my dog. It objects to strangers--of a certain class." + +Suddenly Mr Sanford stooped down, gripped the brute by the scruff of +its neck and the root of its tail, swung it through the air and out of +the window. Harris happened to be staring in at the time. The dog +struck him as it passed. Over he went, and off tore the dog down the +drive, yelping and howling as if it had had more than enough of our +establishment. The Ogre sprang from his chair, and he used a very bad +word. + +"What do you mean by doing that?" + +Harris, as he regained his feet, gave utterance to his woes. + +"That's a nice thing to do, to throw a great dog like that right into +a man's face! What next, I wonder?" + +Mr Sanford was most civil. + +"Hope it hasn't hurt you, but I'm afraid that your face must have been +in the way." Then to the Ogre: "Well, sir, we are still waiting. By +which route do you propose to follow your dog?" + +There was something in Mr Sanford's looks and manner which, in view of +the little adventure his dog had had, apparently caused the Ogre to +suspect that the moment had arrived when discretion might be the +better part of valour. + +"Before we go any further, perhaps you'll let me know who's going to +repay what I've advanced? Nearly two hundred pounds I'm out of +pocket." + +"You're nearly two hundred pounds out of pocket!" cried Dick. "What +for?" + +"Why, for seeing that your mother was buried like a respectable woman. +It begins to strike me that you'd have liked to have had her buried by +the parish." + +The Ogre thrust his red face so very close to Dick's that I suppose +the provocation and temptation together were more than Dick could +stand. Anyhow, Dick gave him a tremendous slap on the cheek. In a +moment Mr Sanford was between them. + +"It serves you right," he declared. "It shows what sort of person you +must be that you should permit yourself to use such language in this +house of mourning." + +"Harris," shouted the Ogre, "run round to Charlie Radford and Bill +Perkins and tell 'em I want 'em, quick! And loose the dogs and bring +'em back with you!" + +"Begging of your pardon, Mr Miller," replied Harris, possibly +perceiving in which direction the wind was about to blow, "but if you +want any more of your dirty work done you'll do it yourself." + +Cook was horrified. + +"Well, the likes of that! After all Mr Miller has done for you!" + +"Done for me! He has made me do what I'm ashamed of, that's what he's +done for me! I've had enough of him, and of you too, Mrs Boyes was as +good a mistress as anyone need have. I know it if no one else does. +And, Miss Molly, your mother always paid my wages regular to the +moment; you don't owe me nothing. And you don't owe cook and Betsy +nothing either." + +"What do you know about what is and is not owing me?" screamed cook. + +"I know you were paid each month; and, what's more, I know you gave a +receipt for it. Why, you told me yourself that you took the wages' +receipt book from the little cupboard in the corner." + +Cook's virtuous indignation was beautiful to behold. + +"It only shows how sensible Mary Sharp was to pack her box and take +herself outside of such a place. And I'll do the same within the +hour." + +"So will I," said Betsy. + +"Mr Sanford," I said, "all sorts of mother's things are missing, and I +shouldn't be at all surprised if cook and Betsy have taken some of +them." + +"Me taken your mother's things!" screamed cook. I believe that if it +had not been for Mr Sanford she would have scratched me. + +"I think it not at all improbable," he agreed. "Is there a constable +hereabouts?" + +"There's one in the village." This was Harris, who seemed to have +arrived at a sudden resolution to attack his late allies at every +possible point, "Name of Parker." + +"If you will be so good as to request Mr Parker's immediate attendance +you shall have no reason to regret it, Mr Harris. Neither of you women +will leave this house until the contents of your boxes have been +examined in the presence of a policeman." + +Cook looked uncomfortable as she met Mr Sanford's stern glance. And it +was stern! Betsy began to cry. + +"And what's more," added Harris, pointing at the Ogre, "I happen to +know that there was money in Mrs Boyes's desk, and he knows it too." + +With that parting shot Harris hurried off down the avenue. + +"Things are beginning to wear rather an ugly aspect, Mr Miller." + +"Ugly aspect! What do you mean? You needn't think I want to stop in +this hugger-muggering hole! I am just as anxious to get out of it as +anyone can be to get me out." + +"I should hardly think that possible." + +"I only regret that I ever set foot in it." + +"Then the regret is general." + +"As for these ungrateful little wretches, and especially you, my +lad!"--this was Dick--"they shall hear of me very soon in quite +another fashion, when they haven't got a bully to back them up." + +Mr Sanford laughed. + +"He's cramming mother's things into his pocket at this very moment!" +cried Jim. + +"Aren't you making a mistake, Mr Miller?" + +Mr Sanford's politeness seemed to make the Ogre feel dreadful. He +looked as if he would have liked to have killed him. + +"I don't want the miserable rubbish!" + +He banged the letters and things down on the table. Dick went on,-- + +"I believe that what Harris says about there having been money in +mother's desk is true, and this man hasn't accounted for a penny. And +it's my belief too that he's been taking what he likes out of the +house. He lives just up the lane--I shouldn't be surprised to find +plenty of mother's property at his own place." + +The Ogre moved towards the door, but it was too late, Mr Sanford +interposed. + +"Excuse me, Mr Miller, but I think that now I would rather you waited +till Mr Parker arrives. We will accompany you to your own +establishment. There--together--we will make certain inquiries." + +He blustered a little, but he was a coward at heart, and he had to +give in. As it chanced, Harris met Parker in the lane, so that he came +back with him almost at once. + +All sorts of things which did not belong to them were found in cook's +and Betsy's boxes; and actually the book of which Harris had spoken, +in which they themselves had signed receipts for their wages. There +was a tremendous scene. Parker badly wanted to lock them up, but we +had had trouble enough already, so we let them go. + +While we were examining the servants' boxes upstairs the Ogre was +offering Mr Sanford what he called an explanation. When they went +round with him to his own house he handed over quite a collection of +miscellaneous articles which belonged to mother. Her cheque-book, all +sorts of papers, some of them representing stocks and shares, even +some of her jewellery. He said he had taken them home to examine. +Which seemed a very curious thing to do. The next morning he had +vanished. He had left no address, and nothing was seen or heard of him +in that neighbourhood again. So we concluded that he had escaped with +something much more valuable than anything which he had given up. But +it was a long time before we suspected what it was. + +What we should have done without Mr Sanford--if he had not come in the +very nick of time--I do not dare to think. We might have been +plundered of every single thing we had. It was very nice of Hetty +Travers to have a big strong cousin, and it was perfectly lovely of +her to send him to us. + + + + + IV + + THE HANDWRITING + + +It was some time after mother's death before we knew if we were or +were not penniless. And as, of course, it was our duty to be prepared +for the very worst, we used to discuss among ourselves how, if we were +left without a farthing, we should earn one. Though I am perfectly +well aware that a single farthing would not have been of much service +to us. But then I suppose everybody knows what I mean. + +When there are six children, and the eldest is a girl, and she is only +sixteen, and they have no relatives, and not one grown-up person to +advise them, it does seem strange what a very few ways there are of +making a fortune. That is, within a reasonable space of time. So far +as I could make out, from what the others said, for every one of them +you wanted money to start with. And if you had no money, it was not +the slightest use your doing anything. Then the boys had such +impracticable notions. Dick was full of South Africa. He declared that +nothing was easier than to go to South Africa; find what he called a +"claim," on which there were tons of gold, or so many pounds to the +ton, I do not quite know which; turn it into a company, and there you +were, a millionaire, in what he termed "a brace of shakes." But it +appeared to me that that "brace of shakes" would be some time in +coming. First, he would have to get to South Africa, then he would +have to find his "claim,"--and there was no proof that they were found +by everyone; then he would have to get his company up, which might +take weeks; and, in the meantime, were we supposed to starve? I seemed +to have read somewhere that a human being could not be kept alive +without food for more than seven days. I doubted if there would be +much left of me after four-and-twenty hours. Jack wanted to be an +engine-driver on the railway line, a profession which I feel sure is +not too highly paid; while Jim actually yearned to be a fireman in the +fire brigade, though how he imagined that he was going to earn a +fortune that way was beyond my comprehension. + +Nora and I were reluctantly compelled to admit that if our means of +sustenance were to depend on the efforts of the masculine portion of +the family we should apparently have to go very short indeed. And the +field for girls did seem to be so circumscribed. As I said to her-- + +"There do seem to be such a few ways in which girls can get money." + +"There aren't any." + +We were in the kitchen, she and I alone together. We were supposed to +be getting the tea ready. There was not a servant about the place. And +the condition the house was getting into in consequence was beyond +anything. She was sitting on the edge of the table, with a coal scoop +in one hand and a toasting-fork in the other. Nora always was of a +pessimistic description. She invariably looked on the blackest side of +everything. So one got into the habit of allowing for the peculiarity +of her outlook. Besides, I had in my head at that moment the +glimmering of an idea of how to earn an immense amount. + +"There are some ways. For instance, there's writing. There are girls +who write for papers, and all kinds of things." + +"Only those who can't write get paid anything." + +I wondered if she had been trying her own hand. The statement did +sound so sweeping. + +"There's teaching. Look at the lots of governesses that must be +wanted." + +"Let 'em be wanted. I prefer prussic acid." + +"There's drawing for the magazines." + +"You might as well talk about drawing for the moon--unless you're a +perfect idiot, then you might have a chance." + +I felt sure that she had had experiences of her own. Her tone was so +extremely bitter. + +"And then there are prize competitions. There do seem to be a +tremendous number of them about. And some of them for really large +prizes." + +"Prize competitions!" Nora seemed all at once to have wakened to life +and vigour. "Promise you won't split if I tell you something?" I +promised. "I believe that all prize competitions are frauds run by +robbers. Do you know"--she brought the toasting-fork and coal scoop +together with a bang--"that I've gone in for seventy-two of all sorts +and kinds, and never won a single prize, not even a consolation. And +some of them were hard enough to kill you. I've guessed how much money +there was at the Bank of England; how many babies were born on a +Tuesday; picked out twelve successful football teams; named three +winners at a horse race--" + +"Nora!" + +"I have--or, at least, I've tried to. Much the largest prizes are +offered for that. I've drawn things, written things, calculated +things, prophesied things, made things, collected things, solved +things, sold things,--once I tried to sell a lot of papers in the +village for the sake of the coupons, but no one would buy a single +copy. It was a frightful loss. I do believe I've tried my hand at +every sort and kind of thing you can think of--and heaps you +can't--and, as I say, I've never even won a consolation prize. No more +prize competitions for me!" + +That was not encouraging, especially as it was a prize competition +which I had got in my mind's eye. After her disclosures I did not +breathe a word of it to Nora, but when I got up to my bedroom I took +out the paper in which I had seen all about it, and considered. The +part which told you about the competition was headed "Delineation of +Character by Handwriting." You had to write, on a sheet of paper, a +sentence not exceeding twelve words in length. This you had to put +into an envelope, which you had to seal and endorse with a pseudonym. +This envelope you had to put into another envelope, together with your +real name and address, and a postal order for a shilling, or twelve +stamps, and send to the paper. The person whose caligraphy was +considered to show that the writer was the possessor of the finest +character was to receive one hundred pounds. + +One hundred pounds!--for a shilling! Of course, I was perfectly well +aware that hosts of people would go in, and that, as the chances of +success were presumably equal, one's own individual chance was but a +small one. But, on the other hand, what was a shilling? And, also, +some people's writing was better than others. As a matter of fact, I +rather fancied my own. It had been admired by several persons. It was +large, bold, and, I was persuaded, distinctly characteristic. I +perceived that the sentences had to be despatched to the office of the +paper on the following day. + +Why should not one of mine go with them? There really seemed no +reason. I had twelve stamps. There were pens, ink, and paper. My +non-success would merely add to the list of failures with which the +family was already credited--making seventy-three. What was that? The +question was, what sentence should I send. You were left to choose +your own. But the presumption was that your chances of success would +not be lessened if the one selected was a good one. I had it on the +instant. My desk chanced to be open. There, staring at me on the top, +was the very thing. + +At Mrs Sawyer's school there had once been a governess named +Winston--Sophia Winston. We all of us liked her. I adored her. She was +one of the best and sweetest creatures that ever lived. But her health +was not very good and she had to leave. Before she left I asked her to +write a motto in my book of mottoes. Although she said she would, when +I came to look for the book I could not find it anywhere. Somehow, in +those days, my things always were playing games of hide-and-seek with +me. So, instead, she wrote a motto on a sheet of paper. There lay the +identical sheet of paper in front of me at that moment. I took it up; +opened it; read it:-- + + + "Who goes slowly goes safely and goes far." + + +The very thing! I more than fancied that it was with _malice prepense_ +that Miss Winston had referred me to that rendering of what I knew was +an Italian proverb. It was not my custom to go slowly, or safely, +or--in the sense in which the word was there used--far. But, for the +purpose of the present competition, that was not a matter of the +slightest consequence. I made six copies of Miss Winston's sentence; +picked out the one which I judged was the best; and, after destroying +the other five, packed it up with the requisite twelve stamps, and +sent it off to the office of the paper. + +Of course I told no one of what I had done. I was not quite so silly +as that. The boys would have laughed--especially Dick, who was once +rude enough to ask me if I wrote with the end of a broom-stick. While +Nora--after her revelations of the hollowness and deceitfulness of +such things--would have concluded I was mad. I simply held my tongue. +And I waited. + +The paper to which I had sent was a weekly one--it came out every +Wednesday. It appeared that the competition was a weekly one also. The +sentences had to reach the office on the one Wednesday morning, and in +the paper which came out on the following Wednesday the results were +announced. Either not many sentences were sent in, or there must have +been someone in the office who was uncommonly quick at reading +character. There used to be a girl at Lingfield House who pretended to +read character from handwriting. She wanted pages of it before she +would attempt to say what kind of character you had. Then she would +take days to form an opinion. And then it would be all wrong. I +daresay that in the office of the paper they had had a deal of +practice. + +On the Thursday morning of the week following I was down first as, I +am sorry to say, I generally had to be; sometimes I actually had to +drag the others out of bed; and Nora was every bit as bad as the +boys--and as I came into the hall I saw a letter lying on the floor. +Smith the postman had pushed it through the slit in the door. I picked +it up. It was addressed to "Miss Molly Boyes, The Chase, West Marden, +Sussex." On the top of the envelope was printed "_Trifles_. The Paper +For The Whole World." When I saw it something seemed to give a jump +inside me, so that I trembled all over. I could hardly tear it open. +There were three things inside. One--could I believe my eyes? at first +I felt that they must be playing me a trick--but one really was a +cheque--"Pay Molly Boyes or Order One Hundred Pounds." I believe +that at the sight of it I very nearly fainted. I never have done +quite; but I think that I very nearly did do then. It was a most odd +sensation. I was positively glad to feel the wall at my back, and I +went hot and cold all over. Of the other two enclosures the first was +a letter--from the editor himself! though, as it had been done by a +typewriter, it was not in his own writing--perhaps that was because he +was afraid of having his character told--saying that he was glad to +inform me that I had been adjudged the winner of that week's +competition; that he had pleasure in handing me a cheque for one +hundred pounds herewith; and that he would be obliged by my signing +and returning the accompanying form of receipt. The second inclosure +was the receipt. + +As soon as I recovered my senses I tore up the stairs about three at a +time. I rushed in to Nora. + +"Nora," I cried, "I've won a hundred pounds!" + +She was lying reading in bed, and was so engrossed in her book that +she did not catch what I said. She grumbled. + +"I wish you wouldn't come interrupting me like that; especially as +I've just got to where the hero is killing his second wife." + +"Bother his second wife! and bother the hero too! Look at that!" I +held out before her the editor's letter and the cheque. "Seventy-two +times you've tried, at least, you said you had; and I've only tried +once. And the very first time I've won!" + +"What are you talking about?" + +"If you'll come to Dick's room I'll tell you all about it." + +Off I raced to Dick's room, calling out to Con and Jack and Jim as I +passed. Presently the whole family were gathered about Dick's bed. +Nora had put on a dressing-gown, but the three younger boys were just +as they had got out of the sheets. + +"Well," said Dick, when he had turned the cheque over and over and +over, and held it up to the light to see if it was a forgery, "some +rum things do happen, and those who deserve least get most." + +"I always have thought," observed Nora, "that those prize competitions +were frauds, and now I know it." + +Jack was more sympathetic--or he meant to be. + +"Never mind what they say; it's only their beastly jealousy. I'm jolly +glad you have won, because now we can have new bicycles." + +"About time too," declared Jim. "I've had mine tinkered so many times +that there's none of the original machine left." + +"I punctured my tyre again yesterday," groaned Con. "That's about the +twentieth time this week. It's hardly anything but holes." + +I had not contemplated providing the whole family with new bicycles. +But they did seem a necessity. I knew that I wanted a new machine, and +so did Nora. And in a little matter of that kind the boys were pretty +sure not to be very far behind. Fortunately nowadays bicycles are so +cheap; and then we could always give our old ones in exchange; so, +supposing the worst came to the worst, and we were all penniless, even +after buying six new bicycles, I ought to have a good deal of money +left, to keep us in food and things. Because, of course, I had to +remember that I could not expect to win a hundred pounds every time I +tried. + +The nearest place to us where they sold papers was the bookstall at +the station, and that was six miles away. So after breakfast we all +mounted the machines we had, and dashed off to get a copy of +_Trifles_. On the road Con had another puncture. It would not be +stopped. As he said, his tyres did seem to have all they wanted in the +way of ventilation. So as Jim's handle-bar had come off, and could not +be induced to remain where it ought to be, we left them to console +each other. Of course Dick, who rides tremendously fast, got to the +station first, and Jack next. Nora and I never got there at all. They +came flying back to us when we were about two hundred yards away, each +waving a paper above his head, and laughing like anything. I was half +afraid that there was something wrong, and that although I had got the +prize, I had not won it. But it was something else which was amusing +them. + +"If ever anyone ought to be sent to a lunatic asylum it's the man who +runs this paper," shouted Dick. "Let's get to the stile, and I'll +prove my words to your entire satisfaction." + +At the stile we all four of us dismounted. Unfolding his paper Dick +read aloud from it, Jack following him in his own particular copy. + +"'We have much pleasure in announcing that, this week, the possessor +of the finest character, as revealed by her handwriting, is Molly +Boyes, The Chase, West Marden, Sussex, to whom a cheque for one +hundred pounds has accordingly been sent. Her character, as declared +by her caligraphy, is as follows.'--Now then, all you chappies, +listen! attention, please, and mind you, the character 'declared' is +supposed to be Molly's--'This writing shows a character of unusual +nobility--'" + +"Hear, hear!" from Jack. + +"'The motto chosen is singularly appropriate'--By the way, the motto +chosen was 'Who goes slowly, goes safely and goes far,' so everyone +who knows her will perceive its peculiar fitness. Now do just listen +to this Johnny, and I ask the lady herself if he doesn't credit her +with exactly those qualities which she hasn't got--'Patience and +thoughtfulness, a high standard of honour, clear-sightedness, +resolution combined with a sweet and tranquil temper,'--what ho!--'are +all clearly shown. The writer is strong on both the moral and the +intellectual side. A large and beautiful faith is obvious. To a serene +tranquillity of temperament is united a keen insight and a calm +persistence in following to a successful issue well-considered +purposes, instinct with a lofty rectitude.'--As an example of how not +to delineate character from handwriting, I should say that takes the +record." + +I felt myself that here and there that expert was a trifle out. I +certainly should not have called the sentence selected "singularly +appropriate" to me. Nor should I have laid much stress upon my +patience or my thoughtfulness. I had not been hitherto aware that I +was the owner of "a sweet and tranquil temper," or of "a serene +tranquillity of temperament," or of "calm persistence." Indeed, there +were one or two little matters in which I more than suspected that +that character reader was a trifle at fault. But, after all, these +were questions of opinion, and had nothing to do with the real point, +which was, that I had won the hundred pounds. + +When we returned home I went upstairs, fetched my desk, carried it +down to the morning-room, and prepared to write and tell everyone of +my good fortune. In the frame of mind in which I was, it was not a +piece of news which I was disposed to keep to myself. I opened the +desk, got out the note-paper, found the pen, and just as I had got as +far as--"My darling Hetty,--I've won a fortune! You never will guess +how!"--I thought of Miss Winston's sentence. It was that which had +brought me luck. I was convinced of it. If it had not been for the +motto which that curiosity in character readers had found so +singularly appropriate, I seriously doubted if I should have won. The +least I could do was to kiss it, in memory of the writer. + +I had placed it--after making those six copies--in an envelope which I +had endorsed "Miss Winston's Motto." I laid down my pen, raked out the +envelope, took out the sheet of paper. On it was the sentence, not in +Miss Winston's small, exquisite penmanship, but in my own great +sprawling hand. For a moment or two I stared at it in bewildered +surprise. Then, in the twinkling of an eye, I understood what had +happened. + +In my characteristic blundering fashion I had confused my copy with +her original. My writing I had packed into the envelope I was holding, +and hers I had put into the one which I had sent to the paper. It was +her caligraphy which had been adjudicated on, her character which had +been deduced therefrom. The thing was as plain as plain could be--the +whole business had had nothing whatever to do with me. I re-perused +the winning character as it appeared in the paper. The man was not +such an idiot as we had all supposed. It was not a bit like me; but it +exactly described Miss Winston. She was all the lovely things he said +she was, while I--I was none of them--I was just an addle-headed +donkey. + +Talk about sensations! My feelings when I found the cheque in the +letter were nothing compared to what they were when I realised +precisely what the situation was. The world seemed to have all at once +stood still; as if something had happened to the works. It was +perfectly awful. Here was my name printed in great big letters in the +paper; with my character underneath. I had flaunted the cheque in the +face of all the family. In imagination the money was already spent. I +had practically promised to buy each one of them a bicycle. And now, +after all-- + +Whose was the money after all? + +Never, till that dreadful time, did I thoroughly appreciate what it +means about not leading us into temptation. It would be quite easy to +say nothing. They were my twelve stamps which I had sent; and the +sentence on the piece of paper was my property. Really, if you looked +at it from one point of view, the hundred pounds belonged to me as +much as to anybody else. I had only to keep my own counsel and it was +impossible that anyone should even guess that there was anything the +least bit odd about the matter. Of course, I knew what I knew; and the +misfortune was that I did know. If I had only never looked inside that +horrid envelope, and never found out what had happened, how much +happier I should have been. + +I laid my head straight down upon the table, and I did cry. + +While I was in the very middle of enjoying myself--like a great +overgrown baby!--someone came into the room, and a voice said, a voice +which I knew well-- + +"Miss Boyes!--I beg your pardon, but I knocked at the door, and when +no one answered I thought I would come in to see if there was anyone +about." + +It was Mr Sanford! It only wanted him to find me going on like +that to finish everything. As usual, all the luck was on my side. +I was perfectly aware that the slightest scrap of crying makes +me look an object; and here I had been howling myself inside +out for goodness alone knew how long. I dabbed at my eyes with my +pocket-handkerchief--though I knew I made a fresh smear every time I +touched myself, because I had the best of reasons for knowing that +tears made me positively grimy--and I tried to pretend that I was not +yearning to sink into the ground. He seemed concerned. + +"I hope there's nothing wrong?--that the Ogre has been giving you no +further trouble?" + +I did manage to gasp out something. + +"No--thank you--he's--been--giving--us--no--trouble." + +He apparently concluded that it might be advisable to seem not to +notice that there was anything strange in my demeanour. + +"I am the bearer of good news."--We wanted some, badly. I know I +did.--"You have been good enough to allow me to examine somewhat +closely into the condition of your affairs."--We had been good enough +to allow him! As if it had not been perfectly splendid of him to do +it; he being, not only Betty's cousin, but a barrister.--"Your mother +appears to have managed everything herself--and very well she seems to +have done it too; but the fact makes it somewhat difficult for a +stranger to probe quickly to the bottom of everything; and the +Ogre's proceedings have not made it easier. But so far as I have +gone, I have ascertained beyond all doubt that instead of being +in fear of the workhouse--as someone suggested--you are very +comfortably off. As time goes on I shall not be surprised if you find +yourselves--financially--in a still better position."--It was a +consolation to know so much. That hundred pounds would not be +wanted--"By-the-bye, I saw my cousin Hetty yesterday, and she +entrusted me with what she called a note to you. I fancy you will find +that it extends to about six sheets of paper." + +It is not necessary to tell me it was ill-manners; I knew it was; but +I felt that I must do something to avoid meeting his eyes; so I opened +the envelope, and started reading Hetty's letter then and there. The +opening words seemed to leap up off the paper and strike me in the +face. + + +"My very own dearest little Molly!"--she always would call me little, +though I was every bit as big as she was--"What do you think? You +remember Miss Winston? She's starving! And she's not only starving, +but she's dying of consumption. I've only just found it out by the +merest accident. It seems that she's living in a little cottage at a +place called Angmering, somewhere near Worthing. She's been ill ever +so long, and able to do no work, or earn a penny. So that she has +absolutely no money to buy herself food, or even to pay her rent. If +someone doesn't come to her help soon they'll have to take her to the +workhouse--to die! Poor Miss Winston! And she such a darling! Isn't it +dreadful to think of?" + + +It was. So dreadful, that I could not bear to think. I hope it was +not wicked, but I almost felt as if that letter must have dropped out +of heaven. It did seem a miracle that it should have come to me at +that very moment. Penniless! Starving! And there was that hundred +pounds--her hundred pounds--lying on the table. Was it possible that I +had even remotely contemplated the possibility of--of doing what? My +conscience so rose up at me that, whether Mr Sanford was or was not +there, I had to hide my face with my hands and start crying all over +again. My behaviour seemed to positively frighten him. + +"I hope that Hetty has not said anything disagreeable--nothing to +cause you pain. I assure you that nothing was further from her +intention, and that the letter was accompanied by all sorts of loving +messages." + +Then I felt that I must tell him everything. So I did--every morsel, +right from the beginning. He was so patient, so full of understanding +and of sympathy; indeed, he was much more sympathetic than I deserved. +Still, even if you are not deserving of sympathy, it is a comfort to +receive it, particularly if it is nicely offered. + +I do not wish to breathe a word against my own family. I am perfectly +certain that no one could be fonder of Nora and the boys than I am. +Yet I am inclined to think that there are times, when if one must +confess, it is just as well to do it to someone who is not exactly a +relation. One's relatives are apt to take such a narrow view. I am +convinced that no one could have taken a broader view than Mr Sanford +did; and he never laughed once. That, in itself, was an immense +relief. I have noticed in Nora, even when I have been confiding to her +the most serious things, a tendency to treat me as if I was not quite +in earnest. There was nothing of that sort about Mr Sanford, not a +trace; or, at least, if he did show some faint sign of my having +afforded him amusement, he did not do it in a brutal way. + +"Poor little soul!" he said, when I had finished. "Poor little +soul!"--I was not certain that I liked him to address me in quite that +form of words. But there was something so extremely soothing in his +manner that I let it pass.--"And so this has been the cause of the +trouble." He picked up the copy of the sentence which I had meant to +send to the paper. "I see no reason why this should not have succeeded +in winning the prize. If you will forgive me for posing as an expert, +this handwriting is eminently characteristic." + +"Don't be horrid!" + +"Such is not my intention. I am not suggesting that the character +given in the paper is particularly applicable to this." + +"I know it isn't!" + +"But it does not follow that this does not hint at something equally +fine, though in a different way." + +"Mr Sanford!" + +"I must ask you to forgive me if I annoy you by the expression of my +opinion. In any case, you are to be congratulated on what you have +done." + +"How do you make that out? When I have been winning other people's +money with somebody else's writing?" + +"Precisely. Though I should not phrase it quite like that. Hetty +informs me that this lady is in sore straits. Well, you have gained +for her what, in her position, she will regard as a fortune--which she +never could have done for herself." + +"I never meant to." + +"Which actually makes it more delightful. Because, while you have been +trying to do a good deed, you have really done a better." He had a +very nice way of putting things. "I would suggest that you yourself +take the money to this lady at once. Her pleasure at seeing it will +only be eclipsed by her delight at seeing you. And I shall be only too +proud and happy if you will allow me to accompany you on your errand +of mercy." + +That was what did happen. Scarcely had he stopped speaking than Harris +appeared at the window. + +"If you please, Miss Molly, Miss Nora and the young gentlemen asked me +to tell you that they've gone off for the day, and won't be back till +the evening." + +"We also," observed Mr Sanford, "will go off for the day. You see, the +stars in their courses are on the side of Miss Winston. I came over on +my machine; if you'll jump on yours we'll be off!" + +He seemed to imagine that I could rush off to the other side of +the county just as I was. Masculine persons do have such curious +notions--even when they are grown up. I had to scrub my face to make +it clean. The condition of my hair was frightful. I seemed to have +cried it into a tangled mass. Just as I was struggling with it his +voice came up the stairs. + +"I don't know, Miss Boyes, if you are aware that you have been +five-and-thirty minutes. If you can get down inside the next five we +may catch the train; but if you can't, I'm afraid we sha'n't." + +Of course after that I simply flew. I left my hair nearly as it was; +jammed my hat on anyhow; and bounded down the stairs. + +"I hope I haven't kept you waiting," I remarked. + +"I'm used to it," he said. "I have two sisters." + +I do not know what he meant. It sounded very rude. Almost like one of +my own relations. + +We caught the train; and, after changing at Chichester, reached +Angmering at last. By that time I had come to the conclusion that Mr +Sanford was one of the most delightful persons I had ever encountered. +And so intellectual. A trifle dogmatic perhaps, and a little inclined +to regard me as younger than I was. We had a long and most interesting +discussion about women in politics. A subject of which I knew +absolutely nothing. But it was not necessary, on that account, that he +should hint as much. Which he very nearly did. Yet, on the whole, I +could not but regard him as the kind of cousin to do one credit. And, +at the risk of making her conceited, almost made up my mind to tell +Hetty so next time I wrote to her. + +Dear Miss Winston! We found her, looking like the shadow of her former +self, lying on such a hard old couch, in such a poor little room. Had +I been an angel she could not have seemed more glad to see me. As I +told her all about it she was so sweet. And when I gave her the twenty +five-pound notes for which Mr Sanford had changed the cheque at +Chichester, the way in which she thanked me did make me feel so +strange. As if I had done anything to deserve her thanks. I never knew +how happy it made one to be the bearer of good news until that day. As +I came away I almost felt as if I had been in the presence of +something sacred. + +On our way home Mr Sanford and I had a warm argument about old-age +pensions, which nearly ended in a tiff. After we had been talking +about them for more than half an hour he as good as said that he did +not believe that I knew what an old age-pension was. Even if that was +true--and it was, perfectly--I did not propose to allow him--almost a +stranger--to accuse me of downright ignorance; as if I were an +untutored savage. He might know something about everything; and anyone +could see that he was awfully clever, while I might know nothing about +anything,--which possibly was the case. Still, it was not civil for +him to remark on it. The fact was, that he would persist in regarding +me--I could see quite plainly what was in his mind--as if I were a +mere child. Which, at sixteen, one emphatically is not. I do not +hesitate to admit that I snubbed him in order to let him see that I +resented his quite intolerable airs of superior wisdom. + +Which made it the more singular that he should have told me, as we +were entering the drive, that he had to thank me for one of the +pleasantest days he had spent in his life. Considering that I had been +metaphorically sitting upon him for ever so long, I did not at all +understand what he had to thank me for. + +When I got out my desk, to commence a letter to Hetty, my copy of Miss +Winston's sentence was nowhere to be found. I could not think what had +become of it. I distinctly remembered Mr Sanford taking it off the +table, and making some uninvited comments on the writing--he seemed +fond of criticising other people. But I did not recall what had +happened to it afterwards. He could not have put it into his pocket by +mistake. It seemed such a very odd thing for him to have done. And so +excessively careless. + + + + + V + + THE PEOPLE'S STOCK EXCHANGE + + +Although we were not paupers, for ever so long after mother's death we +lived pretty much as if we were. We hated the idea of living in a +town; especially London, and we could not get a servant to stop at The +Chase. Considering that the family consisted of Dick and me, and the +four children, who all of them insisted on doing exactly as they +pleased, it really was no wonder. The consequence was, that we +generally had to do everything for ourselves, and the way in which +things were done was beyond description. A stranger dropping in +suddenly would have supposed himself to have wandered into something +between a lunatic asylum and a workhouse. + +Of course, as the head of the family, this state of things occasioned +me much concern. I knew that it was not what mother would have wished. +But when I spoke to the others about it, they all started laying the +blame upon each other, and even upon me. The fact is, when we were +servantless, the boys expected Nora and me to do everything. We did +not see it. Especially as it was almost invariably their fault that we +were without a creature to do a thing. Their habits were so erratic. +You could not expect a properly trained servant--or indeed anyone--to +take them up their breakfasts in bed at intervals of half an hour or +so. Or--if they had made up their minds to fly off to the other side +of the county--to have a regular meal ready at perhaps five o'clock in +the morning. As for lunch, they expected that to be on all day. And +always something hot and really nice. As for tea, as a rule, Nora and +I had ours together; but no one ever knew when the boys would insist +on having theirs. It was the same with dinner. We always had had a +proper dinner, and I felt, strongly, that because mother was dead we +ought not all at once to behave as if we were barbarians, and leave +off everything she had accustomed us to. And Dick said that he agreed +with me. So I fixed it first for seven; then half-past; then eight; +then for all sorts of times. But it was no use. Either one of the +boys would come in half an hour before the proper time, starving, +because--through his own fault--he had had nothing to eat all day, +and, before anyone could stop him, would seize whatever was cooking, +and make a meal off it there and then. Or else some of them would +be ever so late, and make a tremendous fuss because we had not +waited--even to the extent of expecting another dinner to be served +there and then. In that respect Dick was as bad as anyone. No cook +would stand that sort of thing--and no cook did. + +If we could only have found mother's will it might all have been so +different. Because it was not at all unlikely that she had appointed +someone as guardian, and to take proper control of everything until +the children had grown up. As it was, so far as we knew, no one +had a right to even send the boys to school. And as they refused, +point-blank, to go of their own accord, educationally they bade fair +to shine. At Mr Sanford's suggestion we tried a tutor. The tricks they +played him were beyond conception. Nothing would induce him to stop. +He actually threatened us with an action for damages. I do not quite +know what for, but Mr Sanford had to pay him something extra before he +would be satisfied. + +I do not wish it to be supposed that the boys were bad boys. They were +not. They had loved mother dearly, and I do not believe they had ever +given her any trouble. But I fancy they had never been very fond of +school. And the sudden chance of liberty had turned their heads. +Besides, they had all made up their minds to be things for which +much book-learning was not required. And if Jack was going to be an +engine-driver, and Jim either a fireman or an aeronaut, and Con a +naturalist, it did seem a pity to spend a lot of money on unnecessary +schooling. + +Unfortunately we could not find a will. The presumption was that +mother had made one, but that it had been stolen, because one day I +came upon a box of papers which was locked up in one of the drawers in +her wardrobe. + +Oh dear, how strange I felt as I looked through them. Almost as if I +were prying into mother's secrets. Although I know perfectly well that +there was nothing which now she would have wished to have kept hidden +from me. There were all father's letters--even the love-letters which +he had written to her before they were married. If I had only known +that they were there, I would have had them placed with her in the +coffin, so that they might have been hers only, even in the grave. I +think she would have liked it. By the beautiful way in which they had +been kept bound about with ribbons tied in true lovers' knots, you +could see how sacred she had held them. There were all sorts of things +besides. In particular, quantities of ball programmes. She must have +seen a great deal of Society at one time. What a strange change must +have taken place in her life, because I did not remember her once +going anywhere. Some of the things were beyond my comprehension. I +wondered what history was attached to a tiny Maltese cross wrapped in +silver paper. There were lots of things which suggested us children. +Actually, there were the first letters we had each of us written to +mother! Such scrawls! Locks of hair, tiny shoes, a baby's cap, a +beautiful christening gown, and I do not know what else besides. Fancy +her keeping them all those years! I wondered if, when Nora and I were +grown-up, and were married, and had children of our own, we should +have a treasure-box like mother's, containing mementoes of our dear +ones. I think if I ever do, I should like to have it with me in my +grave. If I had known of its existence mother should have had hers. + +All except one thing which was in it. And it is that to which I have +been coming all this time. It was a sheet of foolscap paper, folded in +three. On one side was written, in mother's writing: "Contents of +Brown Despatch-Box." When I opened it I perceived that it was a sort +of inventory. It began,-- + +"In the brown despatch-box are-- + + "My husband's will, + My own will, + My husband's jewels," + +--and then it went on to give quite a long list. Now I knew the brown +despatch-box. We all did. It had been father's. There were his +initials--R. B.--in gold letters on the lid. It was unlocked by a tiny +little key. I had always understood from mother that she had kept all +sorts of wonderful things inside of it. Yet, after she had been +buried, and we had got rid of the Ogre, and had found her keys, it was +empty. It contained not a vestige of anything. I thought it curious at +the time. We all had done. But I thought it still more curious by the +time I had reached the bottom of that list. + +Next time Mr Sanford came to see us--which was a day or two +afterwards--I handed it to him. He made inquiries at Somerset House, +where, it appears, they keep such things, and there, sure enough, was +a copy of father's will. It was simplicity itself, just two lines-- + +"I give and bequeath everything of which I die possessed to my dear +wife, for her sole and absolute use." + +So that, so far as we were concerned, everything depended upon what +was in mother's will. Mr Sanford explained to us that at Somerset +House they only keep a copy when the original will has been what they +call "proved." And the whereabouts of the original will was just the +question. Was it in existence? and, if so, where? + +Dick expressed all our sentiments in language of his own. + +"The Ogre collared it; that's what's come to the thing. What asses we +were, not to have suspected him of it at the time!" + +"If," observed Mr Sanford, "he collared that, then the probability is +that he collared a good deal else besides. For instance, your father's +jewels. Do any of you know anything about them?" + +"It's a most extraordinary thing," I explained, "that I should ever +have forgotten them. Mother's death was so sudden, and everything was +in such confusion, that, except the one fact that she was dead, all +the rest passed clean out of my mind. But I remember them perfectly. +Why, it was only during the last holidays before she died that she +showed some of them to me. I went into the morning-room one day, and +she had the brown despatch-box on the table, and it was full of +things. She had a leather case open in her hand. In it were a number +of rings. 'See, Molly,' she said, 'there are some of your father's +rings. Your father had some beautiful jewels. I am keeping it for Dick +and the boys!" + +"You are sure she said that she was keeping it?" + +"Perfectly certain. Another small case was lying on the table. She +took it up. 'Look,' she said, 'this was a present to your father. It +is one of the most beautiful diamonds I have ever seen. It can be worn +either in a ring, or as a pin, or as a stud.' She attached it to three +pieces of gold which were with it in the case, to let me see how that +was managed. 'Did he often wear it?' I asked. 'No,' she said; 'he +didn't.' And she laughed. 'Your father scarcely ever wore ornaments of +any kind. And this is much too fine a stone for a gentleman to wear. +But it is worth a great deal of money all the same.'" + +"Of course I knew about father's jewels," chorused Dick. "Once, when I +was quite a little chap, she showed me a magnificent gold repeater +watch, and told me it was father's, and that perhaps one day it would +be mine. She touched a spring and let me hear it chime the hours, and +the quarters, and the minutes. There were a lot of other things +besides, though I can't tell you quite what, and I fancy there were +two or three more watches." + +"Where did your mother keep this despatch-box?' asked Mr Sanford. + +"Where we found it, and where she kept all her private papers--locked +up in her bureau." + +"But neither the bureau nor the box showed any signs of having been +tampered with." + +"Of course not. Mr Miller borrowed mother's keys, without asking +leave, and had the free run of everything. We knew nothing about what +was going on. All he had to do was to unlock things, and walk off with +what he wanted. Pretty idiots we were to let him get clean away with +them. Goodness only knows what he has taken." + +Mr Sanford, who had been serious enough all through, looked graver +than ever when Dick said that. + +"That is exactly the point. Under the circumstances it is difficult +for us to determine what may not be missing. I am afraid that Mr +Miller is an unprincipled person." + +"There's no fear about that--it's a dead sure thing. He's a confounded +highway robber, as well as a miserable area sneak." + +Dick's language is so strong. But Mr Sanford did not seem to notice +it. + +"If all the items mentioned were in the despatch-box at the time of +your mother's decease, and the correctness of her list is to be +implicitly relied upon--" + +"If mother says a thing was there, it was there; you can bet on that." + +"Then, in that case, it seems only too probable that Mr Miller has +robbed you of a very large amount of valuable property--" + +"I'd like to have the flogging of him!" + +"Besides the will, which is itself of cardinal importance; and your +father's jewels, which evidently were worth a considerable sum--" + +"I should think so!" + +"There is here a list of no less than thirteen securities, all of the +highest class, which are stated to have represented--apparently at par +value--over £50,000. At present prices they would be worth more. The +presumption is that scrip, or bonds, or other legal documents +representing ownership, were in that box. If such was the case, the +question is--where are they now?" + +"£50,000!" I cried. + +I have no doubt that we all of us looked amazed at the magnitude of +the sum. + +"That scoundrel," declared Dick, "is living on them--on the fat of the +land." + +"Since they were all easily negotiable, and could be turned into cash +at a moment's notice, if our suspicions are well founded--" + +"Which they are!" + +"It is practically certain that Mr Miller is in the enjoyment of a +comfortable little fortune. Not the least extraordinary part of the +matter is, that had not your sister come upon this list, almost, as it +seems, by accident, we might never have known that such securities +were in existence. As it is, I fear we shall have some trouble in +tracing their possession to Mr Miller; and still more trouble in +tracing him." + +It was ever so long--months and months--after I had found out what +ought to have been in the despatch-box, that I went on a tremendous +expedition--to London, all by myself. I was to meet Hetty Travers and +her mother at St James's Hall--and perhaps Mr Sanford might be there, +but he could not be sure--and then we were all going to a concert +together. That was a Saturday. Hetty lived at Beckenham. And after the +concert I was going to stay with her until the Monday. + +That was the programme. + +At home it was a lovely morning. So I thought I would go up by a +pretty early train and do some shopping. I had quite a lot of money, +and I wanted ever so many things, and you can buy things much better +in London than at West Marden. It was true that I did not know much +about London; for instance, I could not have found my way from St +Paul's Churchyard to Regent Street. But I had heard Dick say that when +you did not know your way to a place, all you had to do was to jump +into a hansom and trust to the driver. He maintained that while there +was a hansom to be found no one need be lost in town. So that was just +what I did do. I took one from London Bridge to Oxford Street; then, +when I had got what I wanted there, another to Regent Street, which, +driving, seemed really no distance at all; and then a third to St +Paul's Churchyard. Then, just as I was getting as hungry as anything, +and was wondering where I could get something to eat, I found that all +the shops were actually closing, and that I had scarcely any time left +in which to get to St James's Hall. I get into a cab, and told the man +to drive as fast as he could; it was then past two, and I was supposed +to be there at half-past. + +He went off at a pretty good pace. But he had scarcely gone any +distance when I saw on the pavement, a little way in front--the Ogre! +Mr Stephen Miller! The sight of him drove everything else clean out of +my head. I jumped up in the cab, exclaiming,-- + +"Stop! stop!" + +I daresay the cabman though I was going to jump out while he was +going; and I believe I should have done so if he had gone on. But he +pulled his horse back on to its haunches, and out I jumped. The Ogre, +sublimely unconscious of who was behind him, had moved aside as if he +were about to enter a great stone building which he had just reached. +However, I was in front of him before he could get to the door; and I +lost no time in coming to the point. + +"Mr Miller," I cried, "where's mother's will, and father's jewels, and +all our money?" + +He stared at me as if I were the last person he expected--or +desired--to see; and I daresay I was. I thought at first that he was +going to turn on his heel and run. But that was only for a moment. +After he had recovered from the sudden shock--and the sight of me must +have been a shock to him--he glared with his horrid bloodshot eyes as +if he would have liked to devour me, bones and all. + +"I fancy there must be some mistake. I have not the pleasure of +knowing who you are." + +His wicked untruthfulness took me aback. + +"You don't know who I am?--You do!--I'm Molly Boyes!" + +"Unfortunately I have not the honour of knowing who Molly Boyes may +be. And as I have a pressing appointment, I am afraid you must excuse +me." + +He put out his arm and, thrusting me on one side, dashed through the +swing door into the building in front of which we were standing. He +gave me such a push that it was a wonder I did not fall right over. By +the time I had recovered myself sufficiently to rush after him there +was nothing of him to be seen. He had either vanished into air, or +into one of the innumerable offices which apparently the place +contained. In front of me was a staircase; beyond it was a passage; on +my right was a second passage; on my left a third. In which direction +he had gone there was nothing to show. While I was standing there, +feeling rather silly, a gentleman came out of one of the doors towards +me. He was not bad looking; but he wore a green tie with pink spots +which I did not like at all. + +"Can you tell me," I asked, "where Mr Miller has gone?" + +"Mr Miller? I'm afraid I don't know the name. Has he offices here?" + +"He just came in!" + +I described him as well as I could. The stranger seemed interested. He +even smiled. + +"Your description sounds like Mr Kenrick, of The People's Stock +Exchange. The offices are on the fourth floor. You will see the name +on a tablet against the wall." + +It did not seem very promising. Kenrick did not sound like Miller. And +I could not conceive of his having any connection with such an +institution as The People's Stock Exchange. I was sorry for it if he +had. Still up the stairs I went--it was a long way up to the fourth +floor; and there, in black letters on a white tablet, amidst lots of +other names, was "No. 169. The People's Stock Exchange. Mr George +Kenrick." I went first round one corner, then round another--there was +not a soul to be seen from whom to ask the way--and I was commencing +to wonder if I should have to keep on chasing myself round corners for +the rest of the afternoon when all of a sudden I heard someone +shouting at the top of his voice. A door opened at the end of the +passage in which I was and someone came out, addressing to someone +within remarks which were uttered in such stentorian tones that it was +quite impossible to avoid hearing what he said-- + +"I'll tell you what you are, Mr Kenrick--you're a scoundrel and a +thief! And clever though you are, you'll find yourself at the Old +Bailey yet before you've done--you dirty rascal!" + +He shut the door with a bang which thundered through the place. He was +very tall, with a long grey beard, and his hat crammed over his eyes; +and as he strode past me he did look so very angry that I did not dare +ask who he had been speaking to. But the language he had used was so +extremely applicable to the Ogre, that I felt convinced it must be he. +So I went to the room out of which he had come. Sure enough, on the +glass door was "The People's Stock Exchange." I entered, and there, on +the other side of a polished counter, was Mr Stephen Miller. + +"I have found you again," I remarked. + +He was talking to a young man--quite a boy, in fact--who was moving +towards the door as I went in. + +"You'll be here at the usual time on Monday?" + +"Yes, sir." + +The youth regarded me with what I almost felt was a twinkle in his +eye; though I had not the remotest notion what he meant by such +behaviour. And the Ogre and I were left alone. I repeated my previous +observation. + +"You perceive that I have found you again." + +"It would seem so." He stood rubbing his chin and regarding me with a +contemplative kind of air. He was ever so much better dressed than he +ever was in our part of the world; but, in spite of it, he looked just +the same disreputable, untrustworthy object. If anything, his face was +fatter and redder than it used to be; and his eyes more bloodshot. +"Come into my private office." + +He led the way into a room beyond, and I followed. When we were in he +stared at me again; and this time he grinned. + +"You're quite a beauty--that's a pretty frock of yours. Perhaps it's +the frock that does it--you never know." His manner made my cheeks +burn. "Well, and how are they all at The Chase?" + +Fancy his having the impudence to ask such a question! + +"Thank you; they are all quite well. I want my mother's will--and +father's jewels--and the securities which were in the brown +despatch-box." + +"You do, do you? Are they missing?" + +"You know very well that they are missing--since you took them." + +"Took them, did I? Odd what things one sometimes does by accident." + +"It was no accident, as you are perfectly aware. Will you give them to +me, please, as I am in a hurry?" + +"Give them to you? Do you expect me to hand them over now--at once?" + +"Most certainly. I don't intend to leave until I have them." + +"Suppose I leave?" + +"Then I shall follow you until we come to a policeman, to whom I shall +give you in charge." + +He laughed; though what there was to laugh at in the notion of being +locked up was beyond my comprehension. + +"So that's the idea. Well, I shouldn't like being sent to prison--it's +not to be expected--" + +"You will have brought it upon yourself." + +"So I'll tell you what I'll do; you give me a kiss and I'll hand +over." + +I flamed up. + +"How dare you say such a thing!" + +"All right! all right!--you look spiteful; and it seems you are. Sorry +I asked for what isn't to be had. I keep what you want outside; if you +wait here I'll go and fetch it." + +His insolent suggestion had made me so furious that, without stopping +to think, supposing he meant what he said, I let him go. The door +closed behind him as he went; but as there was a spring which made it +close, I saw nothing strange in that. And I waited. His horrible +proposal--and something, too, about his words, looks and manner made +me conscious of a distinct sense of discomfort. I half wished that I +had allowed him to escape, and made no attempt to follow. I glanced at +my watch. It was past half-past two! What would the cabman think of me +outside--and I had left three parcels in his cab!--and Hetty and her +mother waiting for me at St James' Hall. I went to the door and turned +the handle. It declined to yield. Imagining that there might be some +trick in opening it, perhaps connected with the spring--because I knew +that they had all sorts of queer inventions in the city--I rapped at +the panel. + +"Mr Miller!" I cried. "Mr Miller! Will you open this door, please, and +be quick, because I'm late already!" + +No answer. I rapped again--and called again. Then--at last!--I +suspected. I stooped down and saw that the door was locked. I banged +at it with both my fists. + +"Mr Miller! How dare you lock the door. Open it at once and let me +out!" + +But not a bit of it. That was not his intention at all. Whether he was +or was not on the other side I could not tell. It was a great, strong, +heavy door, and so long as he chose to keep it locked, it was +impossible for me to find out. + +Suppose he was not there? if it was all a trick? and if he had imposed +on my simplicity and made a fool of me? The mere possibility of such a +thing made me so mad that tears of rage came into my eyes. There must +be a bell somewhere. There was; an electric bell, represented by an +ivory button. I pressed it: kept on pressing it. No result seemed to +follow. I could hear no sound. Was it ringing? If so, where? + +As I listened, I was struck by the curious silence. I had no idea that +in London it could be so still. Considering the hugeness of the +buildings, and the clatter of the great thoroughfare through which I +had come, it seemed so odd. Could I be alone in that great place? The +prospect did not appear agreeable. I turned to the window. It was +quite narrow, though tremendously high, and filled with frosted glass, +or whatever they call it, so that I could not see through. I had to +stand on a chair to reach the top of the sash. Then I could not see +out. + +I seemed to have got myself into a thoroughly delightful position. +Time was getting on. Hetty and her mother would be wondering if +anything had happened to me. Something certainly had. But they would +never guess what. How long was I to stop in that room? This was +Saturday. I seemed to remember having heard that people left business +early on Saturdays. I myself had seen that the shops were being +closed. Perhaps that was the explanation of the silence. Everybody +might have gone. The whole place might be deserted. In that case not a +creature might be back till Monday. I had heard the Ogre say to the +departing youth,-- + +"You'll be here at the usual time on Monday?" + +Monday! Was it conceivable that I might have to stay in that wretch's +office till--Monday! Long before then I should be raving mad. I picked +up a ruler off the table and hammered with it on the door and shouted. +How I shouted! But no one took the slightest notice--I doubted very +much if there was anyone to hear. The room through which I had come +was much larger than the one in which I was. The passage was beyond. +If, as was probable, the outer door was also closed, then my noise +would hardly penetrate into the passage. Apart from the fact that the +offices were at the end of the passage, and that no one would be +likely to come that way, except on business. And if business was over +until Monday? + +But I was not disposed to simply hammer and shout. I proposed to do +something. Monte Cristo escaped from the Chateau d'If. And if by any +possible means I could win my way out I did not intend to remain the +Ogre's prisoner a moment longer than I could help. So, by way of a +commencement, I smashed the window. With the ruler I deliberately +knocked out as much of the frosted glass as I could. Most of it went +outside and, amid the prevailing stillness, it seemed to make quite a +terrible noise. I found that the look-out was into a sort of well. The +frame was so narrow, and the fringe of broken glass so obvious, that I +could not lean right out; and from as far as I could get I could not +see the bottom, nor the top either. There were walls and windows +above, below, all around. And, so far as I could perceive, nothing +else. + +While I was wondering whatever I should do next, a window right +opposite, on the other side of the well, was thrown up, and someone +looked out, a masculine someone. I do not think I was ever so glad to +see anyone in my life as I was to see that boy--he appeared to me to +be a boy, though I daresay he supposed himself to be a man. The sight +of me seemed to occasion him surprise--which was not to be wondered +at. + +"I beg your pardon, but--have you just broken that window? + +"I have!" + +"It made such an all-fired din that I thought something had happened." + +"Something has happened! I'm shut up in here!" + +"No? Are you? What a horrid shame. We're in the same box, because I'm +shut up in here. Governor told me not to go till he came back from +lunch, and as he's gone off with some other fellows to a regular +spread, it looks as though he's never coming back again. And I ought +to be down at Richmond for a cricket match. It looks like getting +there! Though what they'll do without me I can't think. Because, +apart from batting, with the leather I'm a marvel. My name's +Clifford--perhaps you know my name? Last Saturday, playing for the +Putney Pilgrims, I took eight wickets in nine overs. It was in the +papers. Perhaps you saw it there. I don't know if you're interested in +that sort of thing." + +He rattled on at such a rate that he did not give me a chance to +speak. + +"I'm afraid you don't understand: I'm locked in here." + +"Locked in? No? Not really?" + +"Yes, really!" He was dense. "And I want you to come and break down +the door and let me out." + +"Break down the door? Me? What ho! Pray, are you trying to take a rise +out of yours truly? I'm more than seven, you know." + +"You don't look it; and you don't sound it either." + +I tried to explain. + +"If you will listen, I will endeavour to make you understand. This +place belongs to a robber and a thief. I came to get back some of the +things he has stolen. He's gone away and locked the door, and left me +here, and I want you to come and let me out!" + +"I say! Isn't that rather a rummy story?" + +"I don't know if it's rummy or not--it's true! And if you don't want +to see me throw myself out of the window you'll come, at once!" + +"For goodness' sake, don't talk about throwing yourself out of the +window. You'd make an awful mess if you did. It's a bit of a +drop--Hollo! here's the governor!" + +I heard a voice speaking behind him. + +"Yes, here is the governor. And pray, Master Clifford, what are you +doing there?" Master Clifford vanished. In his place appeared a short +dark man, with an eyeglass and a moustache turned up at the ends. He +smiled in my direction as if he had known me all his life. "Delighted +to see you. Lovely afternoon, isn't it? You make a charming picture in +that frame." + +"I'm a prisoner!" I cried. + +"You're what?" + +"A prisoner!" + +"You look as if it were more your custom to make captives of others. +Are you in earnest?" + +"Don't I sound as if I were in earnest? Of course I am in earnest!" + +I tried to explain all over again. The stupidity of some people is +extraordinary. Even when I had finished he did not seem to comprehend. + +"Do you know that you're proposing that I should break into another +man's premises?" + +"Do you want me to stop locked in here till you do! Because I shall go +mad and kill myself long before then." + +"May I ask your name?" + +"My name is Molly Boyes, and I live at The Chase, West Marden, and I +ought to have met Hetty Travers at St James's Hall at half-past two, +and now I don't know what time it is!" + +"But I do. It's time I was off." + +He spoke as if he did not care a button about me. I was seized with a +perfect paroxysm of fear. + +"Oh please--please--please--don't go and leave me!--please let me +out!--please--please!" + +I could not see his face through my blinding tears; but I fancy I +startled him. + +"My dear Miss Boyes! Don't distress yourself like that! You'll spoil +those pretty eyes of yours! You mustn't think me a brute; but yours is +such an extraordinary statement. But, as you do seem serious, I'll +come round and see what I can do. By the way, where are you?" + +"I'm at 169; it's called The People's Stock Exchange, +and belongs to a man who calls himself Kenrick, +but--his--real--name's--Stephen--Miller!" + +"So that's The People's Stock Exchange! I wasn't aware we were such +close neighbours. I begin to see daylight. So you're one of the sheep, +and you've been fleeced! I fancy it won't be the first shindy they've +had at that establishment. Here, Clifford, just go and find a +policeman and bring him here! If you'll wait, Miss Boyes, I'll come +round to you as soon as I possibly can." + +He vanished--and I waited. As if there was anything else I could do! +My heart sank directly he vanished from the window. He did not seem a +bit in earnest. I felt convinced that he would not care a scrap if I +was locked in there until the crack of given another glance at his +watch, he would come to the conclusion that it was more than time for +him to go off home to tea, and that it really was not worth while +bothering about the girl over the way. He seemed that kind of man. +Supposing he did? My last straw would be gone! + +As the hours--which, I suppose, according to the clock, were only +minutes--dragged past, and still nothing happened, I concluded that +that was what he had done. What a state of mind I was in! I hammered +with the ruler, and yelled and shouted, so that I might attract +attention if anyone was about. And at last--such a long at +last--I heard the outside door being opened; footsteps approached my +door; there was a little fumbling with the keyhole; and--I was +unlocked! There stood a porter-looking sort of person, a policeman, +and the eye-glassed man from over the way. He had had more sense--and +more heart--than I had imagined. He had hunted up a caretaker, who +actually possessed a key--I think it was one key, though I own I do +not see how it could have been--which opened every door in the place, +and with it he had opened the one behind which I was imprisoned. + +Oh, with what rapture I greeted those three extremely plain-looking +men! No wonder they seemed pleased with themselves when I almost +jumped into their arms! + +That night I slept at Beckenham. Hetty and her mother were nearly out +of their minds. Mr Sanford had gone to the concert. When I did not +appear he telegraphed home to know what had become of me. On their +replying that I had gone to London with the intention of going to the +concert, he tore about in every direction. By the time I did turn up +they appeared to have concluded that I must be dead. Their +countenances when I told them my adventures! + +When the Ogre left me locked in his private office he left The +People's Stock Exchange for good. He never showed his face in that +neighbourhood again. It seemed that he had used the money of which he +had robbed us to help him to rob others. The People's Stock Exchange +was a gigantic swindle. I did not quite understand how; but Mr Sanford +said that he deserved penal servitude for life. Next time I see him he +will probably get it. + +I do not know what became of that cab of mine. Nor of the parcels +which I left inside. And in them were some lovely things. It's a +dreadful shame! + + + + + VI + + BREAKING THE ICE + + +Shortly after my seventeenth birthday Mr Sanford and I had a serious +difference of opinion which almost amounted to a quarrel. I do not say +that the fault was entirely his. But that is not the point. The point +is whether, every time you happen to be not quite exactly right, you +are to be treated as if you were a mere worm, and have your age thrown +in your face. + +It was not my fault that I was only seventeen. As Mr Pitt said--I +remember reading about it at Mrs Sawyer's--being young is a crime one +grows out of. Rome was not built in a day. You cannot do everything at +once. It is quite certain that you cannot be ninety in five minutes. +I was perfectly aware that Mr Sanford was twenty-five. It is not a +time of life against which I have a word to say. I feel sure that it +is a delightful age. But I cannot understand why persons who are +twenty-five should consider themselves so immensely superior to +persons who are only seventeen. Or, if they are superior, and are +known to be, that is no reason why they should show it. + +On my birthday Mr Sanford gave me a box of gloves. Now I am five feet +five and a half inches high. I know I am, because when Dick made me +stand up against the wall with my hair down and a book on my head, he +said he never should have thought it from the look of me. Which was +not a nice thing to say. But then brothers have manners of their own. +I want to know what size of hand a person who is nearly five feet six +high ought to have. Because, directly I opened the box, I saw that +they were lovely gloves, but that they were all six and a half. + +"Oh, what a pity!" I cried. "They'll be like boats on me! I take six +and a quarter!" + +Of course, I am conscious that it was not precisely a civil remark to +make; and, had I reflected, I might not have made it. But it was out +before I even guessed it was coming. As it was out, it was. And, +anyhow, it was simply the truth. At the time, Mr Sanford was as nice +as possible. He expressed his regret for the mistake which had +occurred, and volunteered to change them. + +He did change them. Four or five days afterwards he came with another +box. It was the sixteenth of November, a Thursday. As it turned out to +be a memorable day to me, I have the best of reasons for keeping the +exact date in my mind. I shall never forget it--never--not if I live +long enough to lose my memory. It was very cold. All the week it had +been freezing. That is, off and on. Because I admit that it might +occasionally have risen above freezing point. But it certainly had +been freezing all the day before, and all that morning--hard. Ice was +everywhere. I had made up my mind to try it, and had just finished +cleaning my skates when Mr Sanford came in. + +"Why," he exclaimed, when he saw them, "what are you going to do with +those?" + +"I'm going to skate with them. What is one generally supposed to do +with skates?" + +"But, my dear Miss Boyes, it's impossible. After two or three days' +more frost, perhaps, but at present the ice won't bear." + +Now there was just that something about his tone which nettled me. It +was the way he had of taking it for granted that, because he said a +thing, the matter was necessarily at an end, since it was impossible +to imagine that anyone would venture on remonstrance. + +"I daresay it will be strong enough to bear me." + +"I very much doubt it." + +"Do you? Do you skate?" + +"A little." + +"Then, since that sister and those brothers of mine have gone off, +they alone know where, may I venture to suggest that you should come +with me?" + +"I shall be delighted--as far as the ice. I'm sure you'll find that it +won't bear. And, anyhow, I've no skates." + +"There are a pair of Dick's. They're not very rusty. And I don't +suppose you'll find them very much too small." + +He took them up--and smiled. + +"As you say, they're not very rusty, and I daresay my feet are not +very much more gigantic than Dick's, but--" + +"But what?" + +"I shall be very glad to come with you to examine the ice. But when +you get to it you'll find that skating is out of the question." + +"If I get to the ice I promise you that I'll go on it. I am +passionately fond of skating, and as we so seldom get any, I like to +take advantage of every chance I get. Besides, I am not afraid of a +little cold water, even if it does happen to be a degree or two under +the usual temperature." + +He laughed. He had a way of laughing when I said things which were not +meant to be comical which puzzled me and annoyed me too. Fortunately +for himself he changed the subject, handing me the box he had been +carrying. + +"I've brought the gloves. This time I hope you will find that they are +not like boats. I am credibly informed that they are six and a +quarter." + +"Thank you so much. I really am ashamed of myself for giving you so +much trouble--it's so sweet of you. Oh, what lovely gloves. Just the +shades I like. As I have brought none down with me I think I'll put a +pair on now." + +I ought to have known better. I had, as I have said, just finished +cleaning my skates, and had been washing my hands, and, in +consequence, they were cold. It is not, at any time, the work of only +a moment to put on a brand new pair of properly-fitting gloves. +Everybody knows that, who knows anything at all. They require coaxing. +Especially is this the case when your hands are cold. And certainly +the task is not rendered easier by the knowledge that you are being +observed by critical, supercilious eyes, towards whose owner you +entertain a touch of resentment. Those gloves would not go on. The +consciousness that Mr Sanford was staring at me with obvious amusement +made me, perhaps, more awkward than I should have been. But, whatever +the cause, I do not think I ever had so much trouble with a pair of +gloves either before or since. + +Presently he spoke. + +"Rather tight, aren't they?" + +"Tight? What do you mean? I suppose they're six and a quarter?" + +"Oh, yes, they're six and a quarter. But don't you think it might have +been better to have kept the original six and a half for the sake of +the additional ease?" + +"Ease? You don't want ease in a glove." + +"No? That's rather a novel point of view. Do you want it to be uneasy, +then?" + +"A properly fitting glove never is uneasy. You are possibly not aware +that a new glove always is a little difficult to get on the first +time." + +"Yes--so it seems." + +Something in his tone annoyed me, particularly the impertinent +suggestion which I felt sure it was intended to convey. I gave an +angry try at the glove, and, behold! it split. I know I went crimson +all over. Mr Sanford laughed outright. + +"When you try to cram a quart into a pint pot something is bound to +go." + +A ruder remark I had never had addressed to me. My own brothers could +not have been more vulgar. Even they had never compared my hand with +either a quart or a pint pot. An observation of that kind it was +impossible that I should condescend to notice. Removing the glove, +with all the dignity at my command, I replaced it in the box. + +"I think that I had better wear a pair of gloves which have become +adapted to the unfortunate conformation of my hands." + +"But, Molly--" + +"I don't know who has given you permission to use my Christian name, +Mr Sanford. I have noticed that you have done so two or three times +recently. I am not a relative of yours." + +His eyes twinkled. Although I did not look at him I knew they did, +because of the peculiar way in which he spoke. When they twinkled +there was always something in his voice which, to the trained ear, was +unmistakable. Not that I wish it to be inferred that I had paid any +attention to Mr Sanford's oddities. It was the mere result of my +tendency to notice trifles. + +"But, Miss Boyes, I never could understand why a woman of reasonable +and proper and delightful proportions should show a desire to be the +possessor of a hand which, as regards dimensions, would be only suited +to a dwarf." + +"Is it I you are calling a monster, or only my hand?" + +"Neither. I should not presume to call you anything. But I would take +leave to observe that you have as dainty, as well-shaped, as capable, +and, I may add, as characteristic a pair of hands as I have ever +seen." + +"Personal remarks are not in the best of taste, are they? I believe I +have had occasion to point that out to you before." + +I took that box of gloves upstairs and I banged them on the +dressing-table. When I looked into the glass I saw that my cheeks were +glowing, and my eyes too. It was plain that I was in a perfect +passion. The most exasperating part of it was that I knew what a +fright bad temper made of me. It always does of your black sort of +people. + +Never did I meet anyone with a greater capacity for rubbing you the +wrong way than Mr Sanford. And so autocratic! I suppose that if he is +of opinion that I ought to wear six and three-quarters I shall have +to. But I will give him clearly to understand that, whatever size my +hands may be, I shall wear sixes if I like. I do not propose to allow +him to lay down the law to me, even on the question of gloves. + +I kept him waiting as long as ever I could, though up in my bedroom, +where there was no fire, it was positively freezing, and every moment +I grew colder and colder, till I felt I must be congealing. But I knew +that he hated waiting, so, while I dawdled, I wondered if everybody +was crushed by everybody else as some people crushed me, or, at least, +as they tried to. When I got down he was standing at the window, +staring out into the grounds. + +"Are you still there? I thought you would have gone. I trust that you +have not remained on my account. I didn't hurry. Even an old pair of +gloves cannot be put on in half a second." + +"So it would appear." + +"As you are not going to skate, and I am, I won't keep you." + +"You were good enough to ask me to come with you to see if the ice +would bear." + +"I'm sure it will bear enough for me, though probably not enough for +you. And as you're nervous, it's hardly worth while to put you to any +further trouble. You would hardly find it amusing to stand on the bank +and watch me skating." + +"Well, I can fancy more objectionable occupations." + +"Can you? There is no accounting for people's fancies." + +"There certainly isn't." + +"So, as I am already later than I intended, I will wish you good-day. +And thank you so much for the gloves." + +"Good-day, and pray don't mention the gloves--ever again. But I'm +going with you all the same. I'll borrow Dick's skates on the +off-chance, and ask his permission afterwards." + +"Oh, I've no doubt that Dick will have no objection to your taking +them; but as you're not going to skate, really, Mr Sanford, it's not +the slightest use your coming." + +"No use, but a great deal of pleasure for me. Let me carry your +skates." + +"Thank you, but I prefer to carry them myself." + +He planted himself in front of me, looked me in the face, stretched +out his arm, and took the skates from my hand. The astonishing part of +it being that I did not offer the slightest resistance. + +"I do declare, Mr Sanford, that you're the most dictatorial person I +ever met. You appear to be under the impression that people are not +entitled to have opinions of their own on any subject whatever. I +suppose I may carry my own skates if I want to." + +"Quite so. Suppose we start." + +We did start; though I was more than half inclined--since he was +evidently bent on accompanying me--not to go at all. From the way we +were beginning I foresaw what would be the end; or, at least, I +imagined I did. Because, of course, what actually did happen never +entered my head even as a remote possibility. + +I was in a vitriolic temper, which was not improved by the knowledge +that I was behaving badly, and should, in all probability before long, +behave much worse. There is nothing more galling than the +consciousness that the person with whom you are angry is in the right, +and knows it, and is therefore indisposed to take any notice of your +tantrums, being resolved, do what you will, not to take you seriously. +That was what used to make me so mad with Mr Sanford; he would not +regard me as if I were a serious character. He would persist in +treating me as if I were a child. Even if I did sometimes behave like +one, it ought to have made no difference, since at seventeen you are +not a child, and can behave exactly as you please, because you are +grown up. Especially after the experience of the world which I had +had. + +The lake was more than a mile away from the house; amid the pine-trees +in Mr Glennon's wood. A lovely walk. Particularly in that sort of +weather. But, as the poet does not say, no prospect pleases when your +temper is vile. The mere fact that I yearned to beg Mr Sanford's +pardon for being so disagreeable made me nastier than ever. It may +sound incredible; it is true. Such conversation as there was suggested +that horrid game called "Snap"--played ill-naturedly. + +"Are you an expert skater, Miss Boyes?" + +"I can keep myself from falling, though, of course, I cannot compare +with you." + +"I assure you that I have no pretensions in that direction. Like you, +I can keep myself from falling and that's all." + +"Meaning, I presume, that I cannot even do that. Thank you." + +Silence. I knew the man was smiling, although I did not look at him. +After we had gone about another hundred yards he spoke again. + +"I always think a woman looks so graceful on the ice." + +"You won't think so any longer after you have seen me." + +"I think I shall. I cannot conceive you as looking anything but +graceful, anywhere, in any position." + +"I don't think you need sneer." + +"Miss Boyes." + +"Mr Sanford?" + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"You beg my pardon? What for?" + +"I don't quite know. But I feel you feel that it would be more +becoming on my part. So I do so. Please will you forgive me?" + +"If you have no objection I should prefer to turn back. I do not care +to skate to-day." + +"You need not skate. As I have already remarked, I am convinced that +the ice will not bear. But we can at least continue our walk." + +"I shall skate if we do go on. On that I am determined." + +"You are not always so aggressive." + +"Nor are you always so domineering. Though I admit that as a rule you +are. At home they must find you unbearable." + +"I hope not. I am sorry you find me domineering. Particularly as you +are yourself so--plastic." + +"I am not plastic. I don't know what you mean. But I am sure I am +nothing of the kind." + +"Molly." + +We had reached the stile over which you have to climb to get into the +wood. He had crossed first, and I was standing on the top step--he was +holding my hand in his to help me over. I did not notice that he had +called me Molly. + +"Yes?" + +"I wish you would be pleasant to me sometimes. You don't know what a +difference it would make to me." + +"What nonsense! I am perfectly convinced that, under any +circumstances, nothing I could say or do could be of the slightest +consequence to you." + +"Couldn't it? You try!" + +"I am much too young." + +"Too young! Too young!" + +There was all at once something in his voice and manner which gave me +quite a start. I snatched my hand away and jumped down to the ground. + +"We can't stop here all day if we mean to do any skating, and I for +one certainly do." + +I marched off at about five miles an hour. He wore an air of meekness +which was so little in keeping with his general character that, at the +bottom of my heart, it rather appalled me. + +"I would sooner be snubbed by you than flattered by another woman." + +"Snubbed by me! Considering how you're always snubbing me, that's +amusing." + +"I never mean to snub you." + +"You never mean to? Then you must be singularly unfortunate in having +to so constantly act in direct opposition to your intentions. To begin +with, you hardly ever treat me as if I were a woman at all." + +"Well, you are not a woman--are you--quite?" + +"Mr Sanford! When you talk like that I feel--! Pray what sort of +remark do you call that?" + +"You are standing at the stepping stones." + +"At the stepping-stones?" + +"Happy is the man who is to lead you across them." + +"I don't in the least understand you. And I would have you to know +that I feel that it is high time that I should put childish things +behind me; and I should like other people to recognise that I have +done so." + +"Childish things? What are childish things? Oh, Molly, I wish that you +could always be a child. And the pity is that one of these days you'll +be wishing it too." + +"I'm sure I sha'n't. It's horrid to be a child." + +"Is it?" + +"You are always being snubbed." + +"Are you?" + +"No one treats you with the least respect; or imagines that you can +possibly ever be in earnest. As for opinions of your own--it's +considered an absurdity that you should ever have them. Look at you! +You're laughing at me at this very moment." + +"Don't you know why I am laughing at you, Molly?" + +Again there was something in the way in which he asked the question +which gave me the oddest feeling. As if I was half afraid. Ever since +we had left the stile I had been conscious of the most ridiculous +sense of nervousness. A thing with which, as a rule, I am never +troubled. I was suddenly filled with a wild desire to divert the +conversation from ourselves, no matter how. So I made a desperate +plunge. + +"Have you seen anything of Hetty lately?" + +He was still for a moment, as if the sudden reference to his cousin +occasioned him surprise; and that not altogether of a pleasant kind. +Though I did not see why it should have done. + +"I was not speaking of Hetty. Nor am I anxious to, just now." + +"Aren't you? Have you quarrelled with her, as well?" + +"As well? Why do you say as well?" + +"Oh, I don't know. You're always quarrelling." + +"That's not true." + +"Thank you. Is that a snub? Or merely a compliment?" + +"Molly, why will you treat me like this? It's you who treat me like a +child, not I you." + +"There's the lake at last, thank goodness!" + +I did not care if it was rude or not. I was delighted to see it, so I +said so plainly. What is more, I tore off towards it as hard as I +could. My rush was so unexpected that I was clean away before he knew +it. All the same he reached the lake as soon as I did. He could run, +just as he could do everything else. The ice looked splendid, smooth +as a sheet of glass. All about were the pines with their frosted +branches. They seemed to stand in rows, so that they looked like the +pillars in the aisles of some great cathedral. And then pine-trees +always are so solemn and so still. + +"Give me my skates, please. I want to get them on at once. Doesn't the +ice look too lovely for anything? + +"It's not a question of what it looks like, but of what it will bear." +He stepped on to the edge. It gave an ominous crack. I daresay, if he +had waited, long enough, it would have given way beneath him. But he +did not. He hopped back on to the solid ground. "You see!" + +"Excuse me, but that is exactly what I do not do. Here it is under the +shadow of the trees. Besides, the water is so shallow that it is +practically cat's ice. I'm sure it's all right a little further round +and in the middle. It's often cracky near the edge." + +"I am sure it is not safe anywhere." + +"Will you please give me my skates, Mr Sanford?" + +He looked at me. So as to let him see that I had no intention of being +cowed, I looked back at him. + +"I hope that, this once, you will be advised. I assure you it is +unsafe." + +"Please give me my skates." + +He laughed, in that queer way he had of laughing at unexpected +moments, when there certainly seemed nothing to laugh at. + +"Good. Then it is decided. We will both go skating." + +"Both? It is not necessary that we should do anything of the kind. I +wish you would let me do as I like, without criticism. Who appointed +you to have authority over me? Who suggested that because I choose to +do a thing you should do it too? I prefer not to have you attached to +my apron-strings. Give me my skates. You can go home. I would rather +you did." + +"If you skate, I skate also." + +"As you please, if you can get over your timidity. There is room on +the lake for two. If you will choose one end I will have the other." + +"I shall skate where you do." + +"Mr Sanford--you are intolerable!" + +"Indeed, I am disposed to act on your courteous suggestion, and go +home, and take your skates with me. + +"If you do, I will never speak to you again." + +"Don't pledge yourself too deeply. You spoke of having put childish +things behind you. I did not suspect you of having been such a +mistress of irony." + +"Will you give me my skates?" + +"Certainly. I will put them on for you. Where do you think the ice +is--strongest?" + +We were walking along the bank, I with my nose in the air, he white +with rage. It wasn't easy to make him lose his temper, but when you +did succeed, he was wicked. + +"This will do. I won't trouble you for your assistance. I prefer to +put on my own skates, thank you." + +He dug his heel right through the ice. + +"Do you call this strong?" + +"I wish you would not do that. You forget that I am not quite so heavy +as you." We went on a little further. Then I stood on the edge. "You +perceive that it will bear me. Now--for about the dozenth time--will +you give me my skates?" + +"I will put them on for you." + +"I have already told you that I will do that for myself." + +"Don't be absurd. Sit down on the bank." He spoke to me as if I were a +slave. As it was evidently useless to remonstrate, I obeyed, placing +myself on the sloping bank. "There is a condition I must make. If I +put your skates on first you must promise not to start till I am +ready." + +"I shall promise nothing of the kind." + +"Then in that case I am afraid I shall have to keep you waiting till I +am equipped." + +He actually did too. And as Dick's skates were in rather a muddle, or +he did not understand them, or something, it took him a tremendous +time to get them properly attached to his boots, while I sat on the +bank and froze. But I tried to keep myself as warm as I could by an +occasional genial remark. + +"You understand, Mr Sanford, that when we do get home I will never +speak to you again. I never want to see you again either." + +"The betting is that we never shall get home again, since it is +probable that we shall both of us be drowned in the lake. That is, if +there is a sufficient depth of water to drown us." + +"Sufficient depth! Why, I'm told that in places there are twenty feet. +I imagine that that is enough to drown even you, big though you seem +to think yourself. Though I totally fail to see why we should both of +us be drowned. Why can't I drown by myself?" + +"If you drown I drown." + +"That is really too ridiculous. Pray, who is talking like a child now? +I quite fail to see how it can matter to you what becomes of me." + +"You do know." + +"I do not know. I have not the faintest shadow of a notion." + +"Don't you know?" + +He twisted himself round and glared at me in such a fashion that I was +alarmed. + +"Mr Sanford, don't look at me like that!" + +"Then kindly remember that there are limits even to my patience." + +"I should think that your patience was like the jam in the tart; the +first bite you don't get to it, and the second you go clean over it." + +"I am glad to be able to afford you so favourable an opportunity for +the exercise of your extremely pretty wit. Please give me your foot." + +He took it without waiting for any giving. Then immediately proceeded +to comment on it, as if it had not belonged to me, or as if I had not +been there. + +"A dainty foot it is; and reasonably shod in decently fitting boots; +not six and a quarter." + +"You still seem not to understand that my size in gloves is six and a +quarter." + +"I'm so dull." + +"You are. And something else besides." + +He simply ignored my hint. I hate people not to notice when I intend +to sting them. It makes you feel so helpless. He went on calmly +discussing my foot. + +"It's worth while allowing you to flesh the arrows of your malice in +one's hide for the privilege of holding this between one's fingers." + +"Do you think so?" + +"I do." + +It was strange how excessively odd an effect his touch had on me. It +made me thrill from top to toe. I could scarcely speak. When I stood, +to my amazement I found that I was trembling. + +"Are your skates comfortable?" + +"They seem all right." + +"Molly, let us understand each other. Are you bent on skating?" + +"I am. Though there is not the slightest reason why you should." + +"The ice may be sufficiently thick in places, but it certainly is not +all over, and, as you don't know where the weak points are, it will be +at the risk of your life if you venture on it." + +"It is strong enough to bear me, though it is very possible that it +may not be strong enough to bear you also. So, if you do not desire to +add to the risk on which you are so insistent, you will not force on +me your company." + +"If you go I go also." + +"Then don't talk so much--and come!" + +He had been holding my hand. I snatched it from him and was on the +ice. In an instant he was at my side. I was filled with a curious +excitement. Something had got into my blood, microbes perhaps, of a +fever-generating kind. The various passages of arms which we had had +together seemed, all at once, to have reached their climax. I was +seized with a sudden frenzy of resolve to show him, once for all, that +what it was my pleasure to do that I would do. I craved for motion; +yearned for movement--if only as a means of relief for my pent-up +feelings. Longed for a flight through the air, to rush through it, to +race. Especially to race that man--or to escape from him. I did not +care much which. + +I struck out for all that I was worth. As I had surmised, the ice was +in perfect condition as regards its surface. Sufficiently elastic to +enable the blade of one's skates to bite on to it, smooth enough to +offer no impediment to their onward glide. One skimmed over it almost +without conscious effort. The ecstasy of doing something; the sense +of freedom which it gave; the delight of tearing through the keen, +clear atmosphere; of feeling it upon one's cheeks--ruffling one's +hair--exhilarating one's whole being--breathing it in great gulps into +one's lungs--these were the things I needed. And I had hardly been +enjoying them half a dozen seconds when the bonds which had seemed to +bind me parted, proving themselves to be but the phantasmal creations +of a crooked mood. And I laughed, in my turn. + +"Isn't it glorious?" + +"While it lasts." + +"Why the reservation? Isn't it glorious, now?" + +We had gone right across the lake. We swung round at a right angle. + +"I thought it wasn't safe!" + +"What's that?" + +Just my luck! Scarcely were the words out of my lips than there was an +ominous sound. + +"That's nothing. I thought everybody knew that virgin ice make +eccentric noises; we're the first to test its quality. That shows how +safe it is." + +"Does it? I think there may be something in your theory about the +middle being best. Suppose we cross to the other side again." + +The sound did go on. + +"It's because we're skirting the shore. If you'll admit that I am +right for once in a way I'll concede that you may be." + +"I'll concede anything if you'll come away from this." + +"Then I'll race you to our starting-point!" + +We had been keeping within perhaps a dozen feet of the land. Sharply +turning I made for the centre. I had not taken half a dozen strides +when the cracking noise increased to a distinctly uncomfortable +degree. I felt the ice heaving beneath my feet. He was at my side; it +was preposterous to talk about racing him level. He could have given +me seventy-five yards out of a hundred. + +"We have struck a bad place. Don't stop; go as fast as you can." + +"I'm going as fast as I can. I shall be all right. You go in front." + +"Give me your hand!" + +"No!" + +"Give me your hand!" + +I did not give him my hand--he snatched it. As he did so, something +went. We did not stop to see what. How he managed I did not, and do +not, understand. But I know he gripped my hand as in an iron vice, +started off at about seventy miles an hour, and made me keep up with +him. + +"Don't!" I cried; as well as I could while I gasped for breath. + +"Come!" he said. + +And I had to come. And before I knew it we were standing on the shore, +and I was half beside myself with rage. + +"How dare you? Do you suppose that I'm an idiot, and that you can haul +me about as if you were my keeper? What did you do it for?" + +"I fancy I saved your life." + +"Saved my life! Saved your own, you mean. You are an elephant, not I; +and if you would only relieve the ice of the weight of your huge bulk, +everything would be all right. But you are so grossly selfish that +you hate the idea of anyone engaging in a pleasure which you cannot +share--and better still, go home; and let me amuse myself exactly as I +choose." + +"Molly! you are not going on again!" + +"I am going on again!--I am! And you dare to try and stop me--you +dare! + +I imagine that the expression of my countenance startled him. He had +planted himself directly in front of me. But when he saw me looking +like black murder he moved aside. In an instant I had passed him, and +was off towards the centre of the lake. + +Whether the double burden which the ice had had to bear had been too +severe a strain for its, as yet, still delicate constitution, I cannot +say. I only know that, as soon as I was clear off the shore, in spite +of my blind fury, I realised that I really was an idiot, and one, too, +who was badly in need of a keeper. It groaned and creaked, and heaved +in every direction; seeming to emit an increasingly loud crack with +every forward stride I took. Mr Sanford shouted. + +"Molly, for God's sake, come back!" + +I recognised--too late--the reason that was on his side. But the very +vigour of his appeal served as a climax. I lost my head. I did not +know what to do, where to go; turning this way and that, only to find +the threats of danger greater. The question was settled for me. For +the second time something went; the ice disappeared from beneath my +feet--and I went in. + +I felt--when I felt anything--almost as much surprise as +consternation. Fortunately, I did not appear to have hit on a spot +where the depth was twenty feet--or anything like it. For, instead of +being drowned, the water did not come up to my armpits. + +"Can you feel the bottom?" + +The agony of fear which was in Philip Sanford's voice as he asked the +question calmed me as if by magic. + +"I think so; I seem to be standing in what feels like mud." + +"Can you get your arms on to the ice and raise yourself? If you do it +carefully it will probably bear you." + +"I am afraid not. I seem to be too deep in to get a proper purchase." + +"Where can I get a rope? + +"Jennings' farm is the nearest house; and that's the other side of the +stile." + +"Do you very much mind waiting there? I'll be back inside five +minutes." + +My heart sank at the prospect of being left alone, even for an +instant. + +"I'd rather--I'd rather you did something now. I'm afraid--I'm afraid +I'm sinking deeper. And it's so cold. Can't you do anything at all?" + +"I'll do my best." + +He did his best; while I watched--how I watched! He selected a part +where the ice had not as yet been subjected to any strain, and +carefully advanced towards me. It bore him better than I--and perhaps +he--had expected. + +"It's all right," he cried. "I shall get to you! Cheer up! And keep as +still as you can!" + +Then it cracked. And I feared for him. If he should have chanced on a +spot where the depth was twenty feet! And should be drowned before my +eyes! The cracking noise grew more instead of less. + +"I fancy I shall do better by lying down and taking to my hands and +knees; it will be spreading my weight over a larger surface." + +He lay flat on the ice; wriggling towards me somehow, like a snake. It +was a pretty slow process; especially as the icy water was wrapping my +draperies about me and freezing the blood in my veins; and I was +either sinking lower and lower, or else imagining that I was, which +was just as bad. At last he came within three feet of me--within +two--within reach. When I got my hands in his I burst out crying. + +"Will you ever forgive me?" I sobbed. + +"My darling!" + +"I'll always do as you wish me to in the future--always--if I'm not +drowned." + +"My sweet!" + +I did not notice what he was saying to me; nor, for the matter of +that, what I was saying to him. Though I should not have cared if I +had. I was too far gone. He put his hands underneath my arms; but +directly he began raising me the ice on which he was lying gave way, +and, in another second he was standing beside me in the water. Just as +I was thinking of starting screaming, for I made sure that it was all +over with both of us, he lifted me as if I were a baby, and I found +that the water scarcely came over his waist, and he kissed me. + +And I never was so happy; although, for all I knew, at that very +moment we might be drowning. + +But we did not drown. We reached the shore, though it took us a +tremendous time to do it. Because Philip had to break every bit of ice +in front of us. And though none of it was strong enough to bear, it +was not easy to break. Luckily the water grew shallower as we +advanced. So it must have been somewhere else that it was twenty feet. + +"Do you think you can run?" Philip asked, when we stood on the dry +ground at the end. + +"I can--and will--do anything you tell me to--anything on earth." + +He laughed. + +"It occurs to me that it was perhaps as well you had that little +attack of eccentricity just now; otherwise it might have been ages +before we arrived at an understanding." + +I was entirely of his opinion. I knew he was right. But then he always +is. + +We ran all the way home; except when we stopped at intervals, to say +things. Though it was frightfully difficult; because, of course, all +my clothes were sopping. But I was never the least bit ill. Nor was +Philip. I changed directly I got in; and Philip changed into a suit of +Dick's. It did not fit him, but he looked awfully handsome. And so +like a great overgrown boy. So it did not matter if I did behave like +a child. + +When Nora and the boys came home they opened their eyes when they +heard of our adventures. And what amazed me was that they seemed to +take it quite for granted that Philip and I should be on the terms we +were. Dick offered his congratulations--if they could be called +congratulations--in the most extraordinary form. + +"Well, old man, you've escaped one funeral, but you're booked for +another--that's a cert.!" + +The opinions which brothers allow themselves to utter of their sisters +are astonishing. Fancy Dick calling me a funeral! + + + + + VII + + A GIRL WHO COULDN'T + + +I am almost perfectly happy; but an unfaltering regard for the +strict truth compels me to state that I am not quite. I wish I +could--conscientiously--say that I was. But I cannot. I am aware that +when a girl is engaged--especially when she is just engaged--her +happiness ought to be flawless. And mine was, until-- + +However, perhaps I had better come to the point. + +It is not my fault if I cannot do everything. I can do some things. +When I turn the matter over in my mind, systematically, I feel +justified in asserting that I can do a good many things. It is a +well-known scientific fact that a Jack-of-all-trades is master of +none. Therefore it seems to me to follow as a matter of course that +because I can do the things which I can do, I cannot do the things +which I cannot do. Nothing could be simpler. Or more obvious. We +cannot all of us be Admirable Crichtons. And it is just as well +that we cannot. And yet, merely on that account, I have lately +suffered--well, I have suffered a good deal. + +Nothing could have given me greater pleasure than the knowledge that +Philip had a mother and two sisters. When Mrs Sandford--that is his +mother--wrote and said that Philip had told her about the +understanding he and I had come to; that she would very much like to +know her dear son's future wife; so would I spend a few days with her +in her cottage on the Thames, I was delighted. There was a note from +each of the sisters--Bertha and Margaret--echoing their mother's +words, and that also was very nice. I sat down then and there, and +replied to them all three, arranging to go to them on the Tuesday +following. + +As soon as I had despatched my letters I became conscious of +feeling--I hardly know how to put it--of feeling just the slightest +atom unsettled; as if I had the shadow of a shade of a suspicion +that I had let myself in for something which might turn out to +be, I didn't quite know what. Directly I got there--or very nearly +directly--certainly within half an hour of my arrival, I realised that +my premonitions had not been airy fictions of my imagination; but +sound and solid forebodings, which might--and probably would--turn out +to be only too well justified by events. + +In the first place I had to go without Philip. He was to have gone +with me. And, of course, I had looked forward to our journey together +in the train. But, at the last moment, he telegraphed to say that +business detained him in town; would I go down without him, and he +would join us on the morrow. I went without him. And, on the whole, I +think I bore up very well. Especially considering that, just as the +train was starting from Paddington, a woman got into my carriage with +two dogs, a parrot in a huge cage, bundles of golf clubs, hockey +clubs, tennis rackets, fishing rods, and goodness only knows what +besides; her belongings filled the whole of her own side of the +compartment, and most of mine. The last of them was being hustled in +as the train was actually moving. As she was depositing them anywhere, +and anyhow--I never saw anyone treat her belongings with scantier +ceremony--she observed,-- + +"I cut that rather fine. Don't believe in getting to the station +before the train is ready to start--but that was a bit of a shave." + +It was a "bit of a shave"; the marvel was that she succeeded in +catching the train at all. I--disliking to be bustled--had been there +a good twenty minutes before it started, so--although she might not +have been aware of it--there was a flavour of something about her +remark which was very nearly personal. + +It was only after we had gone some distance that the dogs +appeared--not a little to my amazement. One of them--which came out of +a brown leather hand-bag--was one of those long-bodied, short-legged +creatures, which always look as if they were deformed. The other, a +small black animal with curly hair, she took out of the pocket of the +capacious coat which she was wearing. Directly she placed it on the +floor of the carriage it flew at me, as if filled with a frenzied +desire to tear me to pieces. While it was doing its best to bark +itself hoarse, its owner removed a green cover from the parrot's cage; +whereupon the bird inside commenced to make a noise upon its own +account, as if with the express intention of urging that sooty +fragment to wilder exertions. That compartment was like a miniature +pandemonium. + +"Don't let them worry you," remarked the mistress of the travelling +menagerie. + +But as she made not the slightest attempt to stop their worrying me, I +did not quite understand what she expected I was going to do. When the +black dog got the hem of my skirt into its mouth, and began to pull at +it with its tiny teeth, I did remonstrate. + +"I am afraid your dog will tear my dress." + +"Not she! It's only her fun; she won't hurt you." + +I was not afraid of the creature hurting me; but my skirt. The +mistress's calmness was sublime. Suffering her minute quadruped to +follow--without the smallest effort to control it!--its own quaint +devices, she was serenely attaching a new tip to a billiard cue which +she had taken out of a metal case. As if she felt that her proceedings +might impress me with a sense of strangeness, she proffered what she +perhaps meant to be an explanation. + +"Always tip my own cue. I've got a cement which sticks; and I like my +tip to be just so. If you want to be sure of your cue, tip it +yourself." + +Presently my liliputian assailant passed from unreasonable antagonism +to a warmth of friendship which was almost equally disconcerting. +Springing--after one or two failures, on to the carriage seat, it +deposited itself in the centre of my lap--nearly knocking my book out +of my hands; and, without a with-your-leave, or by-your-leave, but +with the most take-it-for-granted air imaginable, prepared for +slumber. Perceiving which, the short-legged dog descending, in its +turn, to the floor of the carriage, began to prowl round and round me, +sniffing at my skirts in a manner which almost suggested that there +was something about me which was not altogether nice. All of a sudden +the parrot, which had been taking an unconcealed interest in the +proceedings, discovered a surprising, and, hitherto, wholly +unsuspected capacity for speech. + +"Don't be a fool!" he said. + +Whether the advice was addressed to me, or to the short-legged dog, I +could not say. But it was so unexpected, and was uttered with so much +clearness--and was such an extremely uncivil thing to utter--that I +quite jumped in my seat. The lady with the billiard cue made a comment +of her own. + +"That bird's a magnificent talker; and that's his favourite remark." + +It proved to be. I do not know how many times that parrot advised +somebody not to be a fool before we reached our journey's end; but the +advice was repeated at intervals of certainly less than two minutes. +And as the creature kept its eyes fixed intently on me, there was a +suggestiveness in its bearing as to the direction for which its +"favourite remark" was intended, which was in the highest degree +unflattering. + +When we stopped at my station a girl coming up to the carriage door +began showering welcomes on my companion and her creatures with a +degree of fluency which pointed to an intimate acquaintance with all +of them. + +"Hollo, Pat, so you've come!--Hollo, Tar!"--this was to the small +black animal. "Hollo, Stumps!"--this was to the short-legged dog. +"Hollo, Lord Chesterfield!"--this was to that excessively rude parrot, +who promptly acknowledged the greeting by rejoining,-- + +"Don't be a fool!" + +Then, seeing that I was only waiting for the removal of some of the +impedimenta to enable me to get out, the girl exclaimed,-- + +"Are you Molly Boyes?" I admitted that I was. "I'm Bertha +Sanford--awfully glad to see you. This is Miss Patricia Reeves-- +commonly known as Pat. Great luck your coming down together in the +same compartment; you'll be as intimate as if you'd known each other +for years." + +I was not so sure of that. More--I doubted if Miss Patricia Reeves and +I ever should be intimate, as I understood intimacy. Still worse, I +was disposed to be dubious if Miss Reeves's bosom friend could ever be +mine. + +A pony phaeton was waiting outside the station, with another girl in +it. This proved to be Margaret Sanford. She welcomed "Pat" and "Pat's" +etceteras with as much effusion as her sister had done. There was a +discussion as to what was to happen. Since the phaeton would hold at +most three, somebody would have to walk. Miss Reeves insisted on being +the someone; she and Bertha immediately set off at what struck me as +being a good five miles an hour. Until then I had supposed myself to +be no bad pedestrian for a mere girl; but when I saw the style in +which those two were covering the ground I was glad that I had been +permitted to ride. + +Not that the ride was one of unalloyed bliss. The journey down from +town had not been all that I had hoped that it would be; how different +it would have been if Philip had been my companion instead of Miss +Reeves. And, somehow, the discovery that she was bound for the same +destination as I was; and was--plainly--an old and intimate friend, +jarred. I do not believe that I am hard to get on with; no one has +ever given me any reason to suppose it. And yet, all at once, the fact +that the Sanford atmosphere was one in which Miss Reeves was +thoroughly at home seemed to hint, with distressing significance, that +it was one in which I distinctly should not shine. + +The impression heightened as Margaret drove me along. She conversed on +matters of which I, for the most part, knew little, and, up to that +moment, had cared less. She talked of golf, inquiring, in an offhand +sort of way, what my "handicap" was; evidently taking it for granted +that, in common with the rest of the world, I had a "handicap." I do +not know what I answered; because, as it happened, not only was I +without that plainly desirable appurtenance, but I did not even know +what she meant. Hitherto golf had not come into my life at all. But +fortunately, she chattered on at such a rate that she was able to pay +no attention to what I said; so that it did not matter what I +answered. It appeared that she had recently been playing a "tie" or a +"match" or a "game" or a "round" or a "skittle," or something--I do +not know which it was, but I am almost certain it was one or the +other--with a Mrs Chuckit--I am sure of the name, because it was such +an odd one--in which, it seemed, she had met with an unparalleled +series of disasters. From what I could gather she had been "stymied" +and "bunkered" and "up" and "down" and "holed" and "foozled" and +"skied" and "approached" and "driven," and all sorts of dreadful +things. At least, I believe they were dreadful things; and, indeed, +from the emphatic way in which she spoke of them, I am convinced they +were. One thing of which she told me I am sure must have been painful. +She said that she got into a hedge--a "beast of a hedge" she called +it; though how, or why, she got into it she did not explain; and that +no sooner did she get out of it--"which took some doing"--so it shows +it must have been painful--than back she went--"bang into the middle" +of it again--which seemed such a singular thing for anyone to do that, +had she not been speaking with such earnestness, and such vigour, I +should almost have suspected her of a desire to take advantage of my +innocence. Then, she admitted, she had lost her temper--which was not +to be wondered at. If anyone had thrown me, or "got" me into a hedge, +anyhow, I should have lost mine right straight off. The moral of it +seemed to be that "the last hole cost her seventeen," though seventeen +what--whether pounds or shillings--she did not mention; nor what +manner of hole it could have been that she should have been so set on +getting it at apparently any price. It was all double Dutch to me. But +she rattled on at such a rate that I hoped to be able to conceal my +ignorance; for I felt that if she discovered it, I should drop in her +estimation like the mercury in the thermometer which is transferred +from hot water into cold. + +Suddenly, however, she began to ask me questions which sent cold +shivers up and down my back. What cleeks had I got? whose "mashie" did +I use? did I care for a "heelless" cleek? + +I fumbled with the inquiries somehow, until she put one which I had to +answer. + +"Do you do much with a brassey spoon?" + +She looked at me with her grey eyes which made me feel as if I was in +the witness-box and she was cross-examiner. I did not do much with a +"brassey spoon." Indeed, I did nothing. I had no idea what anyone +could do. In fact, until that second I had not been aware that spoons +were ever made of brass. And, anyhow, what part spoons of any kind +played in the game of golf I had not the dimmest notion. But I was not +going to give myself away at a single bound; I was not quite so simple +as that. So I thought for a moment; then I answered-- + +"I suppose that I do about as much as other people." + +As a non-committal sort of answer I thought it rather neat; but I was +not so clear in my own mind as I should have liked to have been as to +what was the impression which it made upon Margaret. She looked at me +in a way which made me wonder if she suspected. + +Luckily, before she was able to corner me again, we came to the house. +In the hall a lady met us whose likeness to Philip was so great that +it affected me with something like a shock; she was his replica in +petticoats. In his clothes she might easily have passed as his elder +brother. It was Mrs Sanford. She took both my hands in hers--standing +in front of her relatively I was a mere mite--and looked me up and +down. + +"There isn't much of you, and you're ridiculously young." + +"The first fault I am afraid is incurable. But the second I can grow +out of. Many people do." + +She laughed, and took me in her arms, literally lifted me off my +feet--and kissed me. It was humiliating, but I did not seem to mind it +from her. I had a sort of feeling she was nice. As I looked at her I +understood how it was that she had two such athletic daughters. Philip +had never struck me as being particularly athletic, though he was so +big and broad. But as I talked to his mother I began to realise with a +sinking heart how little I knew of him after all. + +I cannot say that when I got into my bedroom I felt very ecstatic. +Without an unusual degree of exertion I could have cried; but, thank +goodness, I had sense enough not to do that. + +When I went down to tea I found that Bertha and Miss Reeves had +arrived--and the luggage, and the creatures. The Sanfords had +creatures of their own; dogs and birds galore. Among the latter was +one which I afterwards learnt was a jay. It made the most ridiculous +noises, so that I felt that Lord Chesterfield was justified in fixing +it with his stony gaze; and in observing, with serious and ceaseless +reiteration-- + +"Don't be a fool!" + +The conversation immediately got into channels which I would much +rather it had kept out of. Bertha began it. + +"Molly, you've just come in time. There's going to be a sing-song on +the island to-night, and as I'm getting up the programme I hope you'll +turn out to be a gem of the first water. What'll you do?" I did not +know what a "sing-song" was. Bertha explained. "A sing-song? Oh, a +kind of a sort of a concert--informal, free-and-easy, don't you know. +All the river people turn up on the island--they bring their own +illuminations--then some of us do things to amuse them. Will you give +us a banjo solo?" + +"I'm afraid I don't play the banjo." + +"Not play the banjo? I thought everyone could make a row on the banjo. +Can't you play it enough to accompany your own singing?" + +"I'm afraid I don't sing." + +"Don't sing? Then what do you do?" + +"I bar recitations"; this was Miss Reeves. + +"I don't care what you bar," retorted Bertha. "I'm going to recite: at +least, I'm going to do a sort of a sketch with George Willis." + +"I don't call that reciting." + +"It wouldn't make any difference if you did." + +I was rapidly beginning to learn that these people had a candid way of +addressing each other which, to a stranger, was a little alarming. + +"The question is, Molly, what shall I put you down for? Will you give +us a dance?" + +"A dance? I don't know what you mean." + +"A cake-walk, or a skirt-twirl, or a few steps--anything." + +"Do you mean, will I dance, all by myself, in front of a lot of +strangers?" + +"Yes, why not? Everybody does if they can." + +"I cannot, thank you." + +"Then what can you do?" + +"I have no parlour tricks." + +"No--what?" + +"I have no parlour tricks." + +I ought to have been warned by the tone in which Bertha put her +inquiry; but I did not notice it until it was too late. Directly I had +repeated my assertion I realised that I had said something which it +would perhaps have been better left unsaid. They all exchanged glances +in that exasperating way which some people have when they wish to +telegraph to each other something which is not precisely flattering to +you. Miss Reeves laughed outright; Bertha drummed with her fingers on +her knee; Margaret observed me with her keen grey eyes; while Mrs +Sanford spoke. + +"Isn't that one of those things, Molly, which one would rather have +expressed differently? Because, hereabouts, we rather pride ourselves +on our capacity for what you call 'parlour tricks'; and were not even +aware that they were 'parlour tricks' in the opprobrious sense which +you seem to suggest. I have always myself tried to acquire a +smattering of as many of what, I fancied, were the minor +accomplishments, as I could; and I have always endeavoured, sometimes +at the cost of a good deal of money, to induce my girls to acquire +them too. I have never felt that a woman was any the worse for being +able to do things for the amusement--if not for the edification--of +her friends." + +I had not been so snubbed since I had been long-frocked, and to think +that it should have been by Philip's mother! I fancy that I blushed in +a perfectly preposterous manner, and I know that I went hot and cold +all over, and I tried to wriggle out of the mess into which I had got +myself. + +"I only wish I could do things, but I can't. I never have been among +clever people, and I'm so dreadfully stupid. Hasn't Philip told you?" + +"Philip has told us nothing, except--you know what. But Philip himself +is a past-master of all sorts of parlour tricks. Don't you know so +much of him as that?" + +Of course I did. I resented the suggestion that I did not. I was +commencing to get almost cross with Philip's mother. I was perfectly +aware that there was nothing which Philip could not do, and do well, +better than anyone else. But it had not occurred to me that therefore +his relations, and even his acquaintances, were all-round experts +also. And I was not by any means sure that I appreciated the fact +now--if it was a fact. It was not pleasant to feel that in what were +here plainly regarded as essentials, I should show to such hideous +disadvantage. I should practically be out of everything, and no girl +likes to be that, especially when her lover's about. Before long +Philip would be comparing me to everybody else, and thinking nothing +of me at all. + +It is possible that my doleful visage--I am convinced that it had +become doleful--moved Margaret to sympathy. Anyhow she all at once +jumped up and, I have no doubt with the best will in the world by way +of making things easier for me promptly proceeded to make them worse. + +"Come along, Molly, let's have some tennis. Run upstairs and put your +shoes on." + +"My shoes? What shoes?" + +"Why, your tennis shoes." + +"My tennis shoes? I--I'm afraid I haven't brought any tennis shoes." + +"Not brought any tennis shoes? But, of course, you do play tennis?" + +The question was put in such a way as to infer that if I did not, then +I must be a sorry specimen of humanity indeed. But, as it happened, I +did play tennis, at least, after a fashion. We had what was called a +tennis lawn at home, the condition of which may be deduced from the +fact that I had never imagined that it would be inadvisable to play on +it in hobnailed boots if anyone so desired. + +"Of course I play; but--I haven't brought any particular shoes. Won't +these do?" + +I protruded one of those which I had on. Margaret could not have +seemed more startled if I had shown her a bare foot. + +"Those! why, they've got heels." + +Miss Reeves went a good deal further. + +"And such heels! My dear girl"--fancy her calling me her "dear girl," +such impertinence!--"sane people don't wear those royal roads to +deformity nowadays--they wear shoes like these." + +She displayed a pair of huge, square-toed, shapeless, heelless, +thick-soled monstrosities, into which nothing would ever have induced +me to put my feet. I said so plainly. + +"Then I'm glad that I am not sane. Sooner than wear things like that, +I'd go about in my stockings. I don't believe that mine are royal, or +any other, roads to deformity, they fit me beautifully; but, at +anyrate, yours are deformities ready-made." + +I did not intend to allow myself to be snubbed by Miss Reeves without +a struggle. She was no relative of Philip's. But she might just as +well have been; because, with one accord, they all proceeded to take +her part. + +"My dear Molly," said Margaret, speaking as if hers were the last +words which could be said, "you are wrong. In shoes like yours you're +a prisoner. You mayn't be conscious of it; and you won't be till you +try others. Then you'll find out, and you'll be sorry that you didn't +find out before. I want to be mistress of my feet; I don't want to be +their servant. I wear shoes like Pat, and nothing would induce me to +wear any other kind--I know better." + +"And I," echoed her mother and sister. + +There they were, all three displaying--with actual gusto!--shoes which +were facsimiles of those worn by Miss Reeves. They were probably the +productions of the same expert in ugliness. + +"You won't be able to do anything really comfortably till you wear +them too; then you'll tell yourself what a goose you were not to have +gone in for them ages ago. But you'll find Philip'll soon win you into +the ways of wisdom." + +Philip would? I should like to see Philip even dare to try. If I could +not wear--without argument--shoes to please myself, then-- + +I imagine that Margaret perceived, from the expression of my +countenance, that she had gone a little too far; because she said, in +quite a different tone of voice,-- + +"Never mind about shoes! play in those you have on, and I'll tell +Jackson to give the lawn an extra roll in the morning." + +If I had been wise I should have taken the reference to Jackson as a +hint, and slipped out of playing. But my back was a wee bit up, and I +was a little off my balance, so I played. Of course I made a frightful +spectacle of myself. It did make me so wild. + +Bertha and Margaret said they would play Miss Reeves and me, which I +did not like, to begin with. Under the circumstances, I felt that one +of them might have offered to take me as a partner. They might have +seen that I was commencing to regard Miss Reeves as if she were +covered with prickles. Besides which, considering what I imagined I +had come there for, and the position which I was shortly to occupy in +the family, it did seem to me that they ought not to have paired me +with a stranger. But as they evidently preferred to play together, +they plainly did not think it worth their while to study my tastes for +a moment. So I was as sugary to Miss Reeves as I could be. + +"I am afraid you have a very bad partner," I observed. + +"I don't mind," she was kind enough to reply. "I expect you're one of +those dark horses who're better than they choose to make out." + +I tried to be, but I failed ignominiously. I do declare that I am not +always so bad as I was then. But, as I have said, I was a little off +my balance; and all I could do was make an idiot of myself. Bertha +served first; my partner suggested I should take her service. I took +it, or rather, I didn't take it. She sent the balls so fast that I +could scarcely see them; and then there was such a twist on them, or +whatever you call the thing, that I could not have hit them anyhow. I +did not hit them, not one. + +"What horrid balls," I murmured, when Bertha had made an end. + +"You seem to find them so." + +My partner spoke with such excessive dryness that I could have hit her +with my racket. When it came to her turn to serve she asked me a +question. + +"Won't you stand up to the net and kill their returns?" + +No, I would not stand up to the net and kill their returns. I did not +know what she meant, but I knew that I would not do it. And I did not. +She herself played as if she had been doing nothing else all her life +but play lawn-tennis. She was all over the place at once. I was only +in her way, and she treated me as if I was only in her way. I had to +dodge when I saw her coming, or she would have sent me flying--more +than once she nearly did. It was a painful fiasco, so far as I was +concerned; I have a dim suspicion that we scored nothing. When the +game was finished she looked me up and down. + +"Bit off your game, aren't you?" + +"I'm afraid I am," I muttered. + +I was too cast down to do anything else but mutter. There was a look +in her eyes which, unless I was mistaken, meant temper. And she was +such a very stalwart person that I had a horrible feeling that, unless +I was very careful, she might make nothing of shaking me. + +"Perhaps you're stronger in singles; I should like to play you a +single; will you?" + +"Thank you, some--some other time." + +"Shall we say to-morrow?" + +We did not say to-morrow. I would not have said to-morrow for a good +deal. Margaret came to my rescue. + +"You play Bertha. Molly and I'll look on." + +We looked on, while they performed prodigies. I had never before seen +such playing. The idea of my associating myself with them was +preposterous. As we watched, Margaret was not so loquacious as I +should have desired. In her silence I seemed to read disapprobation of +the exhibition of incompetence which I had given. Moreover, when she +did speak, her remarks took the form of criticisms of the play, +approving this stroke, condemning that, with a degree of severity +which made me wince. It was impossible to sit beside her for many +seconds without realising that she regarded lawn-tennis with a +seriousness of which--in that connection--I had never dreamed. +Obviously, with her, it was one of the serious things of life. + +Suddenly she hit upon a theme which was not much more palatable to me +than lawn-tennis had been, in such company. + +"Let's play ping-pong, you and me?" + +"Ping-pong?" My heart sank afresh. It seemed in that house, that games +were in the air. "Wouldn't you rather sit here and watch them playing +tennis. I like to watch them." + +I would rather have watched anyone play anything than play myself. But +Margaret was of a different mind. + +"Oh no, what's the fun of it? One gets rusty. Let's do something. Of +course ping-pong's not a game one can take really in earnest; but +there's a tournament in the schoolroom on Wednesday, and I ought to +keep my hand in. Come along and let's have a knock up." + +We went along. She did not give me a chance to refuse to go along. She +led the way. + +"Of course you _do_ play?" + +"Well--I have played. But I'm quite sure that I don't play in your +sense." + +"Oh, everyone plays ping-pong--the merest children even. I maintain +that it's nothing but a children's game." + +It might be. In that case, she would soon discover that I was past the +age of childhood. + +"Have you brought your bat?" I had not. "It doesn't matter. We've got +about thirty different kinds. You're sure to find your sort among +them." + +A ping-pong board was set up in the billiard-room. On a table at one +side were enough bats to stock a shop. I took the one she recommended, +and we began. + +Ping-pong is a loathsome game. I have always said it, and always +shall. At home we played it on the dining-room table. The boys +made sport of me. They used to declare in derision, that I played +"pat-ball." I should have liked some of them to have played with +Margaret. She would have played with them, or I err. I thought the +serves had come in with disgusting swiftness at lawn-tennis--they were +nothing compared to her serves at ping-pong. That wretched little +celluloid ball whizzed over the net like lightning, and then, as I +struck at it blindly, expecting it to come straight towards me, like a +Christian thing, it flew off at an angle, to the right or left, and my +bat encountered nothing but the air. On the other hand, when I served +she smashed my ball back with such force that it leaped right out of +my reach, or any one's, and sometimes clean over the billiard-table. I +had soon had enough of it. + +"Hadn't we better stop?" I inquired, when, for the second time in +succession, she had smashed my service nearly up to the ceiling. "It +can't be very amusing for you to play with me." + +A similar reflection seemed to occur to her. Resting her bat on the +edge of the board, she regarded me in contemplative fashion. + +"What _is_ your favourite game?" she asked. + +For some occult reason the question made me blush, so far, that is, as +my state of heat permitted. + +"I'm not good at any, so I suppose I haven't a favourite game. Indeed, +I don't think I'm fond of games." + +"Not fond of games?" Her tone was almost melancholy, as if my +admission grieved her. "That is unfortunate. We're such a gamey +crowd--we are all so keen on games." + +Her bearing so hinted that I had been the occasion to her of actual +pain that it almost moved me to tears. + +When I got up into my room to dress for dinner I was a mixture of +feelings. It would not have needed much to have made me sneak down the +stairs, and out of the house, and back to the station, if I had been +sure of getting safely away. I could not say exactly what I had +expected, but I certainly had not expected this. Philip had always +made such a fuss of me, that, I fear, I had taken it for granted that, +under the circumstances, his people would make a fuss of me too. +Instead of which they had received me with a take-it-for-granted air, +as if they had known me for years and years; and then had promptly +proceeded to make me feel so unutterably small, that I was almost +inclined to wish that I had never been born. + +I hated to be made small. I hated games. I hated--during those +moments, in which I was tearing off my frock, I nearly felt as if I +hated everything. But just in time, it was borne in to me how wicked I +was. It was not their fault if I was a little donkey; it was my own. +They were not to blame if I had allowed my education to be neglected, +and had not properly appreciated the paramount importance of tennis, +and ping-pong, and golf, and all the other, to my mind, somewhat +exasperating exercises which came under the generic heading of +"games." As I proceeded with my toilette, and surveyed the result in +the mirror, my spirit became calmer. At least they none of them looked +better than I did. I might not be such an expert, but I certainly was +not uglier than they were. And that was something. Besides, I was +young, and strong, and healthy, and active. If I set myself to do it, +it was quite within the range of possibility that I might become a +match for them even at tennis and ping-pong. I did not believe that I +was such a duffer as I had seemed. + +No one could have been nicer than they were when I went down into the +drawing-room; Miss Reeves actually was so nice that she took my breath +away. They stared as I entered; then broke into a chorus. + +"Well," began Bertha, with that outspokenness which seemed a family +characteristic, "one thing's sure and certain--you'll be the beauty of +the family. We shall have to show you as an illustration of what we +can achieve in that direction. You look a perfect picture." + +"A dream of loveliness!" cried Miss Reeves. "Now, if I were a man, +you're just the sort of girl I'd like to marry. Even as a mere girl +I'd like to kiss you." + +She put her hands lightly on my bare shoulders, and she did kiss +me--on both cheeks, and on the lips--there and then. It was most +bewildering. I had not looked for that sort of thing from her. But Mrs +Sanford's words warmed the very cockles of my heart. + +"If you are as delightful as you look, my dear, that boy of mine ought +to be a very happy fellow." + +No woman had ever spoken to me like that before. It filled me with a +delightful glow--made me even bold. I went close up to her, and I +whispered-- + +"I should like to make him happy." + +Then she drew me to her, and she kissed me--laughing as she did so. It +was really a most peculiar position for a person to be in. But I +forgave them for making such an object of me at tennis. + +After dinner Mrs Sanford said,-- + +"Bertha, Margaret, and I will go over to the island in the +dinghy,--we, being on this occasion, the chief exponents of parlour +tricks, and responsible for all the other performers of the same--and +then, Pat, you and Molly might follow in the punt." + +At Mrs Sanford's mischievous allusion to "parlour tricks" they all +looked at me, and laughed; but, by now, I was beginning to get used to +their ways: I laughed too. A little while before I should have +objected to being again paired off with Miss Reeves, but my sentiments +were also commencing to change towards her. Mrs Sanford went on-- + +"We shall have to see that all things are ready and in order; so that +you will have fifteen or twenty minutes before you need appear." + +We saw them off--the garden ran right down to the water's edge. Then +Miss Reeves proposed that, since there was no need to hurry, we should +get into the punt, and dawdle about upon the river till it was time to +join them. The idea commended itself to me; although I was regarding +the punt--which was moored alongside--with some misgivings. Incredible +though it may sound, I had never seen such an article before. + +But then I had never before been within miles and miles of the +Thames,--except over London Bridge, and that kind of thing. I had +never been in a boat in my life, whether large or small, on sea or +river. Such was my ignorance, that I had not been aware that women +ever rowed--especially in little weeny boats all alone by themselves. +The workmanlike manner in which Bertha and Margaret had rowed off with +their mother had filled me with amazement,--they had gone off with +nothing on their heads, or shoulders, or even their hands. They had a +heap of wraps in the bottom of the boat; but it had not seemed to +occur to them that it was necessary to put them on. True, it was a +lovely evening and delightfully warm, but there were lots of other +boats about; and it did seem odd that three ladies should start off in +a boat all alone by themselves in exactly the same costume in which +they had just been sitting at dinner. + +"Hadn't I better put something on?" I inquired of Miss Reeves, who +showed symptoms of a desire to hurry me into the punt before I was +ready. + +"Why," she rejoined. "It'll be hot all through the night. You don't +feel chilly?" + +"No; I don't feel chilly--but--" + +I looked about me at the strangers in the other boats in a way which +she was quick to understand. She was shrewd enough. + +"My dear Miss Boyes--" she paused. "I mean my dear Molly--I must call +you Molly--I really must--up here, one regards the Thames as one's own +private river. It's the mode to do--and to dress--exactly as one +pleases. In summer, on the upper reaches of the Thames, one is in +Liberty Hall. Step into that punt--if it pleases you, just as you are; +or if it pleases you, smother yourself in wraps--only do step in. Are +you going to pole, or am I?" + +"To pole?" + +She eyed me quizzically. + +"Don't tell me that you don't know what to pole means?" + +"But I don't. How should I, when I never saw a punt before this +second." + +"Dear me, how your rudiments have been neglected. Poling, you +uninstructed child, with the stream, and the right companion, on a +summer evening, is the poetry of life. Jump inside that boat, and I'll +give you an illustration of the verb--to pole." + +She gave me one; a charming illustration too. Certainly, lying on the +bottom of that punt, amid a pile of cushions while it moved smoothly +over those glittering waters, under that cloudless sky, was delicious. +And the ease with which she sent us along, just dipping the long pole +into the stream, while the gleaming drops of water fell off the +shining shaft. + +"Well," she asked, "how do you like my illustration?" + +"It's lovely! I could go on like this for ever,--just looking at you. +It shows off your figure splendidly." She laughed. "And it doesn't +seem to be so difficult either." + +"What doesn't seem difficult?--poling? It isn't. You only have to put +it in, and take it out again. Nothing could be simpler." + +Of course I knew that she was chaffing me; and that it was not quite +so simple as that. But, all the same, I leaned to the opinion that it +was not so very hard. And I resolved that, when Philip came, and he +was there to teach me, and to take a genuine interest in my education, +that I would try my hand. I suspected that I might look rather decent, +poling him along. + +It was very jolly on the island. There were crowds of people, some of +them gorgeous, some in simple skirts and blouses, but scarcely any of +them wore hats,--the men looked nicer than I had ever seen men look +before. I came to the conclusion that the river costume did suit men. +The "parlour tricks" were excellent; I became more and more ashamed of +myself for having spoken of them as parlour tricks. Bertha and +Margaret and Mrs Sanford were splendid. I believe that the people +would have liked them to have kept on doing things all night long--and +no wonder. If I had only been a hundredth part as clever, I should +have been as proud as a peacock. Everything would have gone off +perfectly, and I should have had one of the pleasantest evenings of my +life, if it had not been for my stupidity. + +When all was over I found myself in the punt with Margaret. She was +kneeling at one end, arranging her music and things. Although it was +pretty late there was a full moon in an unclouded sky, so that it was +almost as light as day. All at once I discovered that we had got +untied or something, and were drifting farther and farther from the +land. + +"We're going," I exclaimed. + +"That's all right," said Margaret. "Pole her clear." + +Evidently she, engrossed in affairs of her own, took it for granted +that I was no novice; in that part of the world novices seemed to be +things unknown. There were lots of boats about us; people were making +laughing remarks about our being in the way; the pole was lying +in the punt: Miss Reeves had handled it as if it were a feather. Here +was an earlier opportunity to try my hand than I had anticipated; +but--surely!--until Margaret was disengaged, I could act on her +instructions and "pole clear." So I picked up the pole. + +Two things struck me instantly; one, that it was much longer than it +had seemed; and the other, that it was a very great deal heavier. But +I had been so hasty that, before I realised these facts--though I +realised them rapidly enough--the end of it was in the water. Down it +went with a jerk to the bottom. Had I not hung on to it with sudden +desperation it would all of it have gone. I wished it had! For while I +clung to it I all at once perceived that, in some mysterious way, the +boat was running away from underneath me. It was the most +extraordinary sensation I had ever experienced, and so startling! and +it all took place with such paralysing swiftness. Before I understood +what was really happening--before I had time to scream or anything, I +found that I was actually pushing the punt away with my own feet, that +I was standing on the edge of it, and splash! I was in the river. + +There was no water to speak of. It was quite shallow; only a foot or +two deep. I was out again almost as soon as I was in. But I was soaked +to the skin. And the worst of it was, that I knew that not a creature +there sympathised with me truly. All round me people were laughing +outright--at me--as if it were quite a joke. I could not see where the +joke came in. Although Mrs Sanford and the girls and Miss Reeves +pretended to sympathise with me, I felt persuaded that even they were +laughing at me in their heart of hearts. More than once I caught them +in a grin. + +I did feel so wild with myself when I got between the sheets! All the +same, I slept like a top. I seemed to have only been asleep a minute +or two when I was disturbed by a knocking at my bedroom door. + +"Who's there?" I cried. + +"Come for a dip?" returned Margaret's voice. + +"A dip?" I shuddered; she had roused me from the loveliest dream. +"Where?" + +"Why, in the river, child! It's a perfect morning for a swim!" + +"In the river?--for a swim?--But I can't swim." + +"I'm coming in," she cried. And in she came, rushing across the floor, +putting her strong arms underneath my shoulders, raising me from the +pillow. "I don't believe you can do anything--you little goose! But +you're a darling all the same!" + +She kissed me three or four times, then dropped me; scurried back +across the floor, and out of the room. + +I sighed, and, I believe, I turned over and went to sleep again. + +When I got down to breakfast I found that they had all been about for +hours. There was a letter from Philip lying on my plate. He wrote to +say that he was coming down by the first train. + +"You might go and meet him," suggested Mrs Sanford. "Can you drive?" + +They all grinned; but I did not mind, not a tiny bit. + +"Can I drive?" I retorted scornfully. "Why, I've driven since I was a +little thing." + +"And pray, how long ago is that? Anyhow, if you can drive you might go +to meet him by yourself." + +I did--in the pony phaeton; it was lovely. When Philip came out of the +station my heart jumped into my mouth; especially when he took his hat +off, and kissed me in front of all the people. It was so unexpected. + +As I drove him back I told him what an absolute duffer I was, what an +utter failure, what an all-round nincompoop. He declared that he did +not believe a word of it; which seems, from one point of view, to have +been a trifle rude. And he said that, as for my not being able to do +things, he would show me how to do them all, and he guaranteed--but I +knew there was a twinkle in his eye--that soon I would do them better +than anyone else. + +And I should not be surprised if he does teach me how to do some +things. He has taught me such a deal already. + +So, as I observed at the outset, although I am not quite, I am almost +perfectly happy. And, after all, that is something. Particularly as I +daresay I shall be quite happy before very long. + + + + + VIII + + THE PRINCESS MARGARETTA + + +She was not only charming--quite common women are sometimes charming-- +but there was about her an air of dignity which--I had almost written +which was indescribable. She made you feel what an altogether superior +person she was, and what an altogether inferior person you were, and +yet she did it in a way which really almost made you feel as if she +flattered you; paid you a delicate compliment, in fact. I recognised +this peculiarity about her from the first. + +She made her first appearance on the pier. And an extraordinary +sensation she made. Nobody knew who she was, and yet anybody could see +that she was somebody. There was, even about the way in which she +carried her parasol--my wife noticed it at the time--an indefinable +something which marked her out as not being one of the rank and file. + +It was one morning when the band was playing that she first appeared. +That same night she was at the entertainment in the pavilion. The +"Caledonian Opera Company" were there that week, and even the shilling +seats were crowded. She was in the second row among the shillings. And +by the greatest chance in the world Grimshaw happened to make her +acquaintance. He sat in the next seat to her. She dropped her +programme; he picked it up; and so the acquaintance was made. + +Her behaviour towards him was instinct with the greatest +condescension. Grimshaw assured me that he was almost overwhelmed. She +really treated him as if he had been her equal; as if he had been an +acquaintance of some standing. She allowed him to escort her to her +hotel. And she told him all about herself; and, of course, it all came +out. + +This divinely beautiful woman--I have never heard a word whispered +against her beauty, even by the women--was the Princess Margaretta. +She had taken a suite of rooms at the hotel--quite a palatial suite, +considering--and she had come to stay at Beachington for the season. + +I suppose there is no place anywhere where people of rank and position +may expect to receive a warmer welcome than at Beachington. + +When it was known that the Princess Margaretta was staying at the +"Parade Hotel," all the inhabitants of Beachington called upon her, +one might say, within five minutes. The inhabitants of Beachington +do not, as a rule, call upon visitors. They are rather a +higgledy-piggledy lot, are visitors. In general, they are only +welcomed by the hotel proprietors, and lodging-house keepers, and the +tradesmen and that class of person. But, in the case of a Princess, +Beachington society felt that, as a society it had its duties to +fulfil, and it fulfilled them. In that statement you have the +situation. + +The Princess received everybody. I must own that, for my part, I was a +little surprised. She received the Pattens, for instance. And the +Pattens are nothing and nobody. It was like their impudence to call on +a Princess. Patten was only in the Custom House. And as for his +wife--we never even speak of his wife. Then she received the Jacksons. +It is the belief, at Beachington, that old Jackson used to keep a +public-house. It is not only that he suffers from a chronic thirst, +but he looks like it. And there were other people. But then, of +course, she could not be expected to be able to discriminate at first. +She wanted an adviser. I am bound to say that, ere long, she had more +advisers than perhaps she cared for. Some people are so pushing. + +I assure you that I have never known Beachington livelier than it was +that season. The Princess was a widow. There is something pathetic +even in the mere state of widowhood. In the case of a young and +beautiful woman the pathos is heightened. And the Princess was rich. +She owned it with a most charming frankness. It seemed her husband had +been an American, and he had added his fortune to her fortune, and the +result was a mountain of wealth which weighed the Princess down. She +spoke of handing it over to the starving millions, and being free +again. As I have said, I had never imagined that Beachington could +have been so lively. + +I confess that I was taken aback when, one day, Grimshaw dragged me +along the parade, past the asphalt, on to the rough ground, where +there were no people, and put to me this question,-- + +"Beamish, do you think it would be impossible for a man to fight a +duel nowadays?" + +I stared at him. I asked him what he meant. Then it all came out. + +Grimshaw was actually making eyes at the Princess Margaretta: Grimshaw +is three years younger than I am, and I am fifty-five. He is short and +stout, not to say puffy. He is balder than I am, and my wife says that +for me to brush my hair is a farce. He lives in unfurnished rooms, for +which he pays twenty pounds a year with attendance, and he has nothing +but his half pay to live upon. + +"Do you think that if I were to fix a public insult upon Crookshanks I +could force him to call me out?" + +Crookshanks--he calls himself "Surgeon-General" upon his cards; he is +a retired army doctor--is about sixty. He has been a widower nearly +twenty years. His eldest daughter is herself a widow. She has two +children. Mother and children all live with him. He has two other +daughters, both unmarried. Between them poor Crookshanks hardly dare +call his soul his own. And yet Crookshanks was not only making up to +the Princess, but, in Grimshaw's judgment, he was proving himself a +dangerous rival. + +I told Grimshaw that it was only because Crookshanks was a greater +idiot than himself that he was not the greatest idiot in Beachington. +I don't stand on ceremony with Grimshaw--I never have done. + +"I don't know." Grimshaw mopped his brow. The slightest exertion makes +him painfully warm. "If I could only get Crookshanks out of the way, I +have reason to believe she cares for me." + +I asked him what his reason was. He hesitated. When he spoke his tone +was doubtful. I detected it, although he tried to disguise the thing. + +"I lent her fifteen pounds. I don't think that a woman would borrow +money from a man unless she cared for him. What do you think--eh, +Beamish?" + +I did not know what to think. I happen to know that Grimshaw's daily +expenditure is measured out with mathematical exactness. I wanted to +know where he got his fifteen pounds from. This time his tone was +unmistakably rueful. + +"I had to borrow it myself; and I had to pay a stiff price for it, +too. She wanted it for flowers." + +Wanted it for flowers! I told him that I thought he had more sense. +Russian women are notoriously careless in money matters. Fifteen +pounds were nothing to her, while to him--they were fifteen pounds. I +promised that he would never see his money again. I left Grimshaw with +his heart in his boots. He made no further reference to fighting +Crookshanks. + +But, the fact is, I soon found out that everybody was making love to +the Princess Margaretta. Not only all the unmarried men but, unless +rumour lied, some of the married men as well, There were some pretty +scandals! Rouse, the curate of St Giles', had a _tête-à -tête_ dinner +with her in her private sitting-room, and stayed so late that the +landlord of the "Parade Hotel" had to tell him it was time to go. I +charged Rouse with it to his face. He had the grace to blush. + +"The Princess is a member of the Greek Church--a most interesting +subject." That is what he said. "I have hopes, Admiral, of winning her +to the faith we hold so dear. It is only a passage in one of the +Articles which keeps her back. I do not understand exactly how--it +seems to be almost a question of grammar--yet so it is. But it would, +indeed, be a triumph to win her from the Greeks." + +What I objected to most was the conduct of young Marchmont. It was +only shortly before that he had asked my permission to pay his +attentions to our Daisy. And he had paid his attentions with a +vengeance. Yet here he was dangling about the Princess's skirts as +though he were tied to her apron-strings. I did not wish to have a +discussion with him, for Daisy's sake; but I made up my mind to say a +word to the Princess. + +My chance came before I expected. She stopped me one afternoon on the +Front. I was walking, she was in a carriage. She asked me to get in, +so I got in, and away we drove. + +"Do you know, Admiral," she began, "yesterday I made such a silly +mistake. I called at your house, and I left the wrong card." + +"The servant told me something about it. She said that you left a card +with the name of 'Dowsett' on it." + +"That is so--Dowsett." She leaned back in the carriage. She shaded +herself with her parasol in such a way that, while her face must have +been invisible to the people on the front, it was visible enough to +me. She looked supremely lovely. No wonder all the men were after +her--the beggars. "Do you know, Admiral, that, at one time, I had +almost made up my mind to enter Beachington under false colours." + +I asked her to explain. She did explain. + +"You know that we, who, so to speak, are born in the purple, have +moments in our lives in which we are conscious that title and honours +are--what shall I say?--mere fripperies. One longs, now and then, to +step down from the pedestal on which chance, rather than our desert, +has placed us, and become--what shall I say again?--one of the masses. +I don't know how it may be with others in my position, but it is often +so with me. And to such an extent, that at one time I even thought of +coming to Beachington as plain Mrs Dowsett. I thought it would be such +fun, so obviously ridiculous, you know. I even had cards printed with +the name of Dowsett on them. Wasn't it a curious fancy? I suppose one +of them got mixed up with my own cards, and, in my silly way, I left +it at your house by mistake." She paused, then she added: "My +husband's name was Dowsett. He was an American of the finest kind. He +was what they call in America, One of the Four Hundred." + +"Then, if your husband's name was Dowsett, I presume that your name is +Dowsett, too. So that you are Mrs Dowsett after all." + +"My dear Admiral! Once a Princess always a Princess. I do not cease to +be the Princess Margaretta because, by accident, I chance to have had +a husband who was a commoner." + +She said this in a way which showed that I had wounded her +sensibilities. + +Then I tried to bring the subject round to young Charles Marchmont. I +got there by degrees. She caught up the hints I dropped with a +quickness which confounded me. + +"Poor Mr Marchmont! He is so utterly in love with me!" + +"In love with you--Charles Marchmont!" + +I stared. I almost let out that the young scoundrel was, nominally, +engaged to Daisy--my little girl. But I did not choose to give my +child away even to the Princess Margaretta. + +"He has given me a hundred pounds." + +I almost sprang from the carriage seat. + +"Charles Marchmont has given you a hundred pounds!" + +"I have not told him so, but I have almost made up my mind to devote +it to the Russian Jews. It makes one so sad to think of them--don't +you think that it makes one sad? All the world knows how deeply I am +interested in the sufferings of my unfortunate compatriots. Because +they are Hebrews, is that a reason why we should give them stones +instead of bread? Oh, no! Are they not my fellow-creatures? But every +one in Beachington has made my sympathies his own. It is beautiful!" +The lovely creature wiped her lovely eyes. "Every one has showered +gifts upon me--gifts of money and of money's worth. Even Mr Rouse has +given me five pounds and a ring which was his mother's." + +Poor Rouse! I doubt if he had any private means to speak of, and I +know that the income from his curacy was only sixty pounds a year. + +It is incredible--I am ashamed of myself when I think of it--but +before I got out of that carriage, I actually gave her all the money I +had in my purse. To the relief of the Russian Jews, I understood that +it was to be devoted at the time, though I am free to admit that she +did not make an exact statement of the fact. I did not dare to tell +Mrs Beamish what I had done. I have never dared to tell her to this +hour. + +Two nights after Douglas came up to me on the pier. He was beaming +with something--possibly with rapture. When he saw me, in the dim +light, he rubbed his hands together--in a way he has. + +"Congratulate me, Beamish! Congratulate me, my dear Beamish." + +Before I congratulate a man, I like to know what I am expected to +congratulate him on. I told him so. He dropped his voice to a sort of +confidential whisper. + +"She has promised to make me happy." + +"She? Who?" + +"The Princess Margaretta." He drew himself up. Douglas is a tall, thin +man, so perhaps he thought that he would make himself still taller. +"The Princess Margaretta, Beamish, that august and most beautiful +lady, has, scarcely an hour ago--most auspicious hour of my +existence!--promised to be my wife." + +I was dumbfounded. I could only stare. Douglas is an old Indian Civil. +He was Resident of--somewhere or other, I forget the name of the +place. The driest old stick I ever yet encountered. As much fitted to +be the husband of a fair young creature like the Princess Margaretta +as--as I am. + +"Yes, Beamish, I am to be married at last." + +And quite time, too, ancient imbecile. I felt inclined to kick him as +he stood there, smirking and twiddling his watch-chain. + +"I have been making matrimonial approaches towards the Princess +Margaretta almost since the moment in which she arrived at +Beachington. I felt that such a woman as that must be mine, though, at +the same time, I scarcely dared to hope. But the Princess is a woman +of the widest sympathies. I am inclined to the belief that it is +because I have made her sympathies my own that I have made her heart +mine also. I presented her this afternoon with a cheque for a thousand +guineas to be devoted to a cause in which she is much interested--the +relief of the Russian Jews. It was, perhaps, for a person in my +circumstances, a rash thing to do. But I do not regret it, for I am +persuaded that it was that spontaneous act upon my part which induced +her to say 'yes' to my whispered prayers." + +I moved away from him; I could not congratulate him--I could not! I +fancy that he was so lifted up in the seventh heaven of his happiness +that he never noticed the omission. + +On the other side of the pier I came upon Macbride. Macbride is a +Yankee--a New England man; as keen and cute, and yet as nice a fellow +as you would care to meet. He spends three or four months of every +year in England on business, and, during that time, he is continually +in and out of Beachington. + +He was leaning over the railings, looking down at the sea, when I came +up to him. + +"Macbride," I said, "did you ever hear anything in the States of a +man named Dowsett?" + +He knew what I was driving at immediately. That man knows everything! + +"The Princess's Dowsett?" + +"That's it. I see you know that her husband's name was Dowsett." + +Macbride considered a moment before he spoke. + +"It's my opinion that there never was a Dowsett." + +"Macbride! Why, she told me so herself!" + +"I imagine that she may have told you a good many things which belong +to that order of fiction which is distinctly a stranger to truth." He +was silent; although I could not see his face, I guessed, somehow, he +was smiling. "It is my further opinion--I mention it to you, because I +think that you are beginning to suspect as much yourself--that the +Princess is no better than she ought to be." + +I gasped. If she had been doing us! What would Mrs Beamish say? I had +staked my reputation on the woman. + +"Do you know that she has promised to marry Douglas?" + +"I know she has. I also know--from her own lips, so the authority is +an unquestionable one--that there is more than one man in Beachington +who is under the pleasing impression that she has promised to marry +him. For instance, she has more than half promised to marry me. And I, +for my part, am more than half inclined to marry her." + +"Macbride! when you say that you think she is no better than she ought +to be!" + +"If you consider, how many women are there who are any better than +they ought to be? Where shall you find a perfect woman? And Heaven +protect us from her when she's found. Possibly you misconstrue my +meaning. When I state that I believe her to be no better than she +ought to be, I make a statement which, in my judgment, applies to all +the women I ever met, not to speak of all the men. I think--I am not +sure, but I think--that I understand the Princess Margaretta. I think, +also, that she understands me. There is one advantage gained--a common +understanding--especially as I am myself, in some respects, a rather +peculiar person." For the first time he stood up, turned, and faced +me. "Beamish, the Princess Margaretta is a clever woman. What she +wants is a clever man. With a clever man she might be happy, and she +might make him happy. Her misfortune has been that, up to now, the men +she has encountered have been, generally speaking, fools." + +I could not make him out. And I not only could not make him out, but I +did not know what to say to him. What can you say to a man who tells +you that he thinks a woman is no better than she ought to be, and +then, in the very same breath, that he is more than half inclined to +marry her? And that when he knows that she has not only promised to +marry another man, but, as he more than hints, half a dozen other men +besides. + +The following morning, just as I was going to start for my morning +stroll, the servant came and said that a "gentleman" wished to see me. +She hesitated as she said "gentleman," as if she were doubtful if that +word exactly applied. + +"Admiral Beamish?" enquired the visitor as I entered the room into +which the maid had shown him. I told him that I was that individual. +"Can you tell me what is my wife's present address? She appears to +have changed her lodging. I am Mr Dowsett." + +I stared. The visitor was a small, insignificant, sandy-haired, +mild-looking individual of about forty years of age. No wonder the +servant had hesitated to call him a "gentleman." He carried "small +shopkeeper" on him, written large. + +"I don't understand you. I fancy there is some mistake," I said. + +The stranger eyed me as though the mere tone of my voice filled him +with alarm. + +"Perhaps so. But my wife told me that she had the honour of your +acquaintance, She mentioned your name in her last letter." + +"Your wife? Who is your wife?" + +"My wife is Mrs Dowsett." + +"Dowsett?" A cold shiver went down my back. I had heard the name +before. "Is it possible that you are referring to the Princess +Margaretta?" + +"The--who?" + +"The Princess Margaretta--who, as all the world knows, is staying at +the 'Parade Hotel'?" + +"I hope not--I do hope not. I hope she's not gone so far as the +Princess Margaretta." + +The little man wrung his hands together as if he were positively +suffering pain. + +"The Princess did say that her late husband's name was Dowsett. +Perhaps you are a relation of his?" + +"Her late husband! I'm her present husband, if it's Mrs Dowsett. But +perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me what kind of party the Princess +Margaretta is--I mean to look at." + +I told him. I described the Princess's many charms. I spoke of her +glorious hair, her great blue eyes, her irresistible smile, her +exquisite figure, her bearing of great lady. I did not do +her justice--who can do a beautiful woman justice by a mere +description?--but I apparently did her sufficient justice to enable +him to recognise the picture I had drawn. When I had finished, that +little man dropped into a chair with what sounded to me very like a +cry of anguish. + +"It's Eliza!" That is how he referred to the Princess Margaretta--the, +as she had given me to understand, near relation to the Romanoffs, +the reigning Russian family. "She's done it again! And worse than +ever!--After all she promised!" + +When I understood what his broken exclamations might mean, I began to +perspire. + +"I fear that you and I, sir, are at cross purposes. May I ask you to +explain! And, first of all, be so good as to tell me who you are." + +"That's me." He took from his pocket a card, a common tradesman's +card, on which was printed "James Dowsett. Grocer and General +Provision Merchant," with an address at Islington. "That's me," he +repeated with an air of positive pride, "that's who I am. And I'll do +you as good a tea at one and ten as you'll get anywhere in London, +though I say it." + +"And do you mean to tell me," I gasped, "that the Princess Margaretta +is not a widow, not--not a relation of the Romanoffs, but--but a small +grocer's actual wife?" + +"Not such a small grocer's as you might think. I could give you a +banker's reference which perhaps would startle you. It isn't always +them, you know, who carry things off with the biggest air who are the +biggest." + +"But," I cried, "are you aware, sir, that the person whom you assert +to be your wife, has, here in Beachington, laid claim to Royal rank?" + +The little man's air of modest pride disappeared with even comic +suddenness. + +"Not to Royal rank? Not quite to Royal rank, I hope?" + +"But I say yes--I say yes. She told me with her own lips that she was +a near relation to the Russian Czar." + +Mr Dowsett began again to wring his hands. + +"Oh, Eliza, what have you done?" + +"If the person you refer to as 'Eliza'--great powers, what a name!--is +the person who calls herself the Princess Margaretta, then she has +been guilty of the most impudent fraud of which I ever heard, and +proved herself to be a swindler of the purest water." + +Mr Dowsett stared, or, rather, glared at me. He drew himself to his +full height--five foot three inches. He turned pale with rage; he +actually shook his fist in my face. + +"Don't you call my wife a swindler, you--you old villain!" + +I was astounded. + +"May I ask, Mr Dowsett, what language you would apply to a person who, +being a grocer's wife, calls herself a widow, in possession of a large +fortune, a Princess in her own right, and a near relative of the +reigning Czar?" + +Mr Dowsett looked at me, as if he were at a loss for words. Then, to +my surprise and my disgust, he began to cry. Mr Dowsett appeared to be +a man of variable moods. + +"You sha'n't call her a swindler, you sha'n't! She's no more a +swindler than you are. It's all them--them dratted books." + +"Dratted books, Mr Dowsett? What do you mean?" + +"It's them penny novelettes and the stories in the fashion papers, and +that stuff. She gets reading about things, and then she thinks she's +the things she reads about. I'll tell you what she said to me not very +long ago. 'Jimmy,' she said--I'm Jimmy--'let's pretend that I'm a +duchess. I've been reading about such a beautiful duchess. Let's +pretend I'm her.' So we did, just her and me. I called her 'Your +Grace,' and all. We kept it up for nearly a month. Then she said, +'Jimmy, I'm tired of being a duchess. I've been reading such a lovely +story about a lone, lorn orphan. Let's pretend I'm a lone, lorn +orphan, whom you picked up out of the streets, for a change.' So we +pretended that she was a lone, lorn orphan who'd gone through enough +to make your hair go grey. But, there! I don't know what we haven't +pretended she was." + +That any man could be capable of such childish imbecility seemed to me +almost incredible. But then man's capacity of imbecility is +incredible. Consider how a man of my standing had been induced to +receive a grocer's wife as a Royal Princess! + +"May I ask, Mr Dowsett, how you came to allow your wife to come to +Beachington unaccompanied by her husband?" + +"Well, sir, it was this way. I was more than usually busy this year, +and Eliza was anxious for a change, and she begged me to let her go, +so I let her go." + +"And do you mean to tell me that she has given you no hint of what she +has been doing since she came?" + +"Lor' bless you, she's written to me every day, regular. The best +letters ever you saw--that funny! How I have laughed at them, oh +lor'!" Mr Dowsett seemed inclined to laugh even at the recollection. +"But, to tell you the truth, I didn't know what was true in them and +what was make-believe. She did say that she told every one that she +was a Princess, and that every one took her for one; but I never +thought for a moment she was in earnest. Though goodness knows that +she's clever enough, and beautiful enough for one, isn't she, sir?" I +didn't tell him what I thought; though I felt that in the truth of +that lay my excuse. "She wouldn't give me her address. She said it +would spoil the fun. So I sent my letters to the post-office." + +"Did you, indeed? There appear to be some curious husbands and wives +in existence nowadays, but scarcely a more curious couple, I +apprehend, Mr Dowsett, than you and the--lady whom I know as the +Princess Margaretta. Although you do not know her address, I do. So, +with your permission, we will pay an immediate visit to the Princess +Margaretta." + +When we pulled up in front of the "Parade Hotel," the little man gave +a little start. + +"My gracious! Is she staying here? She did mention once that she was +stopping at the biggest hotel in the place. But I thought that was her +fun. Oh, Eliza, what have you done?" + +As he went into the hotel Grimshaw was coming out. He seemed to be in +a state of considerable agitation. He addressed me almost at the top +of his voice. + +"Beamish, you will find Crookshanks lying senseless on the landing. +When he comes to, tell him that I shall be perfectly ready to give him +the satisfaction of a gentleman." + +He went striding off, without giving me a chance to request him to be +a little more explicit. We did not find Crookshanks lying senseless on +the landing. We met him coming down the stairs, with his handkerchief +to his nose. He looked at us askance. + +"Is Major Grimshaw downstairs?" + +He put the question to me in a sort of anxious whisper. + +"Grimshaw's just gone out." + +"You are quite sure he's gone? + +"Certainly. He just now passed me." + +"Thank you. I--I was afraid he might be waiting down below." + +He continued sneaking down the stairs, as if a weight had been taken +off his mind. I had expected better things of Crookshanks. But perhaps +those three girls of his have knocked the heart all out of him. + +Unannounced I entered the Princess Margaretta's sitting-room. I wanted +to take her unawares. I took her unawares. Quite a dramatic little +scene seemed to be taking place within. Old Douglas and Mr Macbride +appeared to be indulging in that kind of conversation in which one +does not care to indulge in the presence of a lady. + +When the Princess saw who had come in with me, she came dashing +forward. She gave a little cry of joy. + +"Oh, Jimmy!" She actually threw herself upon his breast in the +presence of us all. "You dear, I'm so glad you've come. I'm tired to +death of being the Princess Margaretta." + +The little grocer seemed to be as happy as a king when he had her in +his arms, as though he asked for nothing more. + +Macbride declared that he had suspected something of the truth all +through. But I doubt it. She had been "playing" at being the Princess +Margaretta--to think of that minx's brazen impudence! Every one got +back his own again. I even got back the contents of my purse. But when +he was presented with the bill at the hotel that grocer must have +stared. + +To my mind Beachington has never been the same since the incident of +the Princess Margaretta. + + + + + IX + + THE END OF HIS HOLIDAY + + + CHAPTER I + +"That's a fine girl!" + +The lady thus tersely referred to by Mr Harry Davison was followed +into the room by a gentleman who was as noticeable as herself. As they +searched for a vacant seat they were attended by the glances of the +breakfasters. Chance had it that they found an unoccupied table which +was close to that at which Mr Davison was seated. Mr Lintorn finished +his breakfast, eating it steadily through, while Mr Davison, eating +nothing, stared at the lady. Having discussed the meal, Mr Lintorn, +fitting his eyeglass into its place, eyed the new-comers. + +"I thought so." + +"Thought what?" + +Mr Lintorn paused before replying. He rose from his chair. An odd +smile was on his face. + +"They're some people I knew in the Riviera." + +With a little nod to his friend, he moved towards the new arrivals. +Left alone, Mr Davison observed Mr Lintorn's proceedings with +surprise. He thought he perceived that that gentleman was not received +with too effusive a welcome. It pleased Mr Davison to perceive it. But +Mr Lintorn seemed in no way discomposed. Breakfasters finished and +rose and went, but he stayed on. Mr Davison stayed too. He got up at +last and began to walk about the room, lingering once or twice in the +vicinity of the little table. Still Mr Lintorn declined to take the +hint. In the end he had the courage of despair. + +"Er, excuse me, Lintorn: er--" + +There he ceased. He was Nottinghamshire born and bred, a handsome, +sunny-faced lad scarcely out of his teens, with the flush of health +upon his cheeks; but assurance was not his strongest point. Scarcely +had he opened his mouth than he was overwhelmed by the fear that he +was making an ass of himself. He became a ruby. Then the young lady +did an extraordinary thing; she helped him over the stile. + +"Mr Lintorn," she spoke English with quite a charming accent, "will +you not permit us to know your friend?" + +It was said with such a pretty little air that the request was robbed +of singularity. Mr Lintorn, to whom, indeed, the proposition seemed a +little unexpected, acceded to the lady's wishes. + +"M. de Fontanes, Mdlle. de Fontanes, permit me to introduce to you Mr +Davison." + +Mr Davison's awkwardness continued, although the lady was so gracious. +Perhaps her exceeding graciousness only increased his sense of +awkwardness; it is so with some of us when the grass is green. They +left the hotel together, this quartet; together they even wandered on +the sands. Behind, the old gentleman with Mr Lintorn; in front, +mademoiselle with Mr Davison. Under these circumstances, despite his +awkwardness, Mr Davison seemed to enjoy himself, for when they parted +he turned to Mr Lintorn. + +"Lintorn, she's a goddess!" + +Mr Lintorn, through his eyeglass, surveyed his friend. Then he lit a +cigarette. Then he pointed to a lady, who could boast of some sixteen +stone of solid figure. + +"Another goddess," he observed. + +"That monstrosity!" + +"Perhaps some people do prefer them lean." + +"Lean? You call Mdlle. de Fontanes lean? Why, she's as graceful as a +sylph!" + +"I shouldn't be surprised. What is a sylph?" + +"Did you see such eyes?" + +"Yes; often." + +"Where?" + +"In other people's heads." + +"Lintorn, you're a brute!" + +On that they parted. They joined forces again at dinner. Afterwards +they went to the Casino. There was a little ball that night. The place +was crowded. M. de Fontanes and his daughter were there. Mdlle. de +Fontanes behaved towards Mr Davison like an old-time friend. She +danced with him, not once nor twice, but three times running; and, +oddly enough, between the dances they lost her father. Looking for him +occupied a considerable amount of time; and still they could not find +him. At the end of the search the young lady was compelled to seat +herself while Mr Davison procured her an ice. As he was engaged in +doing so, someone touched him on the shoulder. It was Mr Lintorn. + +"Take care," he said, his hand upon the other's arm. + +"What do you mean?" asked Mr Davison. He was heated with pleasure and +excitement. Mr Lintorn eyed him fixedly. + +"Take care; you're spilling that ice." + +The fact was correctly stated. Mr Davison was holding the plate in +such a manner that the half-melted mass was dripping over the edge. +Still it was scarcely necessary to stop him in order to tell him that; +the more especially as it was the stoppage which was the cause of the +ice being spilt. + +Mr Davison saw Mdlle. de Fontanes home. Under the circumstances he +could scarcely help it. When a lady is alone--we need not lay stress +on such incidentals as youth and beauty--where is the man who would +not proffer her his escort through the perils of the midnight streets? +The night was fine, the breeze was warm; they lingered first in the +gardens of the _établissement_ to look upon the sea. Then they +strolled gently through the Boulogne streets. They had told each other +tales--unspoken tales--by the time they reached the Rue des Anges, but +perhaps she understood his tale better than he did hers. + +The lady paused. She addressed her cavalier,-- + +"This is our apartment. I am afraid my father will scold me." + +"Scold you! Why?" + +"You see, I am all he has, and so--I wait upon his pleasure. I am so +seldom away from him that, when I am, even for a little time, he +misses me. But will you not come in? Perhaps your presence may save me +from my scolding." + +Mr Davison was not in the mood, nor was he the man, to say "No" to +such an invitation. He went in to save her from her scolding. They +found the old gentleman in the _salon_, seated, in solitary state, in +front of a table on which were a couple of packs of cards. His manner +in greeting his daughter was more than a trifle acid. + +"Well? You have come! It is good of you, upon my honour. I have not +waited quite two hours--yet." + +"I am so sorry." + +She put her arms about his neck, her soft cheek against his rough one. +He disengaged himself from her embrace. + +"Permit me! I am not in the vein!" + +"Father, you see that Mr Davison is here. Mr Davison, my father is +justly angry with me. I have kept him waiting two hours for his +_écarté_." + +Mr Davison advanced to the old gentleman with outstretched hand. + +"Let me pay forfeit in Mdlle. de Fontanes' stead: play with me." + +The old gentleman touched the extended palm with the end of his frigid +fingers. He looked the speaker up and down. + +"Do you play _écarté?_" + +"I ought to; I have played it my whole life long." + +"Then," said the old man, with beautiful irony, "you should be a +foeman worthy of my steel." + +They sat down. But the young lady did not seem easy. + +"Is it not too late to play to-night? I am already guilty of detaining +Mr Davison." + +Mr Davison repudiated the idea with scorn. + +"Too late! Why, sometimes I sit up playing cards the whole night +long." + +"After that," murmured the old man softly, "what has one left to say?" + +They played, if not all night, at least until the tints of dawn were +brightening the sky. The stakes were trifling, but, even so, if one +never wins, one may lose--in time. When Mr Davison rose to go he had +lost all his ready money and seventeen pounds besides. This he was to +bring to-morrow, when he was to have his revenge. + +Mdlle. de Fontanes let him out. In the hall, before she opened the +door, she spoke to him. + +"I wish you would promise me not to play with my father again." + +"Promise you! But why?" + +"Do not be offended. You are a younger man. You do not play so well as +he, my friend." + +The "friend" came softly at the end. But Mr Davison chafed at the +under-estimation of his powers. + +"You think so because I have not won to-night. Let me tell you, for +your satisfaction, that I was not afraid of meeting any man at the +'Varsity, and there are some first-rate players there." + +The lady smiled. + +"At the 'Varsity? I see." She opened the door. The dawn streamed in. +"Good-night." + +As Mr Davison strolled homewards he saw before him in the air, not a +pack of cards, but a woman's eyes. + + + CHAPTER II + +Mr Davison saw Mr Lintorn again at the eleven o'clock breakfast that +morning. + +"Find her father?" was Mr Lintorn's greeting to him as he took his +seat. + +"Find her father? Whose? Oh, Mdlle. de Fontanes'! No; I had to see her +home." + +"Hard lines!" + +Mr Lintorn waited until the second course was served before he spoke +again. + +"It took you a long time to see her home?" + +"I don't understand you." + +"I sat up for you until nearly two, and you weren't in then." + +"It was very good of you to sit up for me, I'm sure." + +Mr Lintorn, adjusting his eyeglasses, looked his friend fixedly in the +face. + +"Davison, if you will allow me, on this occasion only, to play the +part of mentor, you will have as little to do with the de Fontanes as +you conveniently can. + +"What the deuce do you mean?" + +"Nothing; only a word to the wise--" + +"Considering that they are not my friends, but yours--" + +"Who said they were my friends?" + +"You introduced me." + +"I introduced you? The like of that!" + +The pair sallied forth together to see the bathers. Who should they +chance upon but M. and Mdlle. de Fontanes. Mademoiselle had bathed. +She looked radiant. Unlike the average woman, who finds the ordeal of +emerging from the sea a trying one, the sea had but enhanced her +charms. They were quite a family party. M. de Fontanes even unbent so +far as to express a hope that the two Englishmen would dine with them +that same evening. They were but in a temporary apartment; he could +not promise them much, but they should have something to eat. Mr +Davison accepted with effusion. Mr Lintorn, a little to his friend's +surprise, after what had passed between them, accepted too. + +Mr Davison spent the rest of the day in looking forward to his dinner. +It was to be at seven. As a matter of course, he was dressed at six. +Yet, owing to Mr Lintorn, it was half-past seven before they reached +the Rue des Anges. Mr Davison was perspiring with rage. Mdlle. de +Fontanes received them. Her father was standing, looking black, +behind. Mr Lintorn was the first to enter the room. + +"I pray your pardon, but Mr Davison has not yet reached an age at +which punctuality at dinner is esteemed a virtue." + +The thing was gratuitous. + +"I assure you, Mdlle. de Fontanes--" burst out Mr Davison. + +The young lady cut him short. + +"I forgive you," she said. "It is so nice to be young." + +During dinner Mr Davison scarcely spoke a word. His feelings were too +strong for speech--at least, at such a gathering. The young lady, +observing his silence, commented on it in what seemed almost a spirit +of gratuitous malice. + +"I am afraid, Mr Davison, we do not please you." + +"Mdlle. de Fontanes!" + +"Or perhaps you are not so eloquent as Mr Lintorn--ever?" + +"No, never." + +Mdlle. de Fontanes spoke so hesitatingly, and in such low tones, that +only Mr Davison caught the words she uttered next. + +"Perhaps--there is a certain manner--which--only comes with age." + +"You seem to think that I am nothing but a boy. I will prove to you +that at least in some things I am a man." + +She looked up at him and smiled. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes +were bright. To make up, perhaps, for his lack of conversation, he +had been drinking all the time. When they re-entered the _salon_ the +card-table was arranged for play. Mr Davison went up to it at once. + +"M. de Fontanes, I hope for my revenge." + +Mdlle. de Fontanes went to his side and whispered him,-- + +"I asked you!" + +"But I had promised. Besides, I wish to show you that _écarté_ is one +of the things in which you underrate my age." + +M. de Fontanes sat down. There was a curious look upon his face. + +"Mr Lintorn, you and I are old antagonists. Who was it used to win?" + +"Invariably you." + +"Ah, then it is your turn now!" + +"Perhaps." + +They played gallery. In spite of his prediction, fortune, as a rule, +was with their host. The stakes were trifling, his losses small, yet +it was curious to see the irritation with which Mr Lintorn saw his +francs forsake him. He was playing with M. de Fontanes. The old +gentleman scored the king. Suddenly Mr Lintorn, throwing his cards on +the table, rose to his feet. + +"It is enough!" he said. + +His opponent looked up in not unnatural surprise. + +"How?" + +"You have won, and you will win certainly." He turned to the lady. +"Mdlle. de Fontanes, you must excuse me. I have letters to write." + +Without another word he left the room. A pause of blank amazement +followed his disappearance. M. de Fontanes sat like a figure carved in +stone. + +"Is Mr Lintorn ill?" his daughter asked. + +Mr Davison took upon himself to answer. + +"He must be, or else mad. I believe he always is half-mad. But never +mind! I'm glad he's gone. Now, M. de Fontanes, you have to reckon with +me. For revenge! Your daughter doubts if I can play _écarté_. I will +show her that her doubts are vain." + +He drank two glasses of Maraschino, one after the other, emptying each +at a draught. Placing the liqueur case beside him on the table, he sat +down again to play. And they played on, and on, and on, hour after +hour. Mr Davison continually lost. Fortune never varied; it was +against him all the time. As his losses increased, he insisted on +increasing the stakes. At last they were playing for really +considerable sums. + +"Fortune must turn!" he cried. "I never saw such cards in all my life! +And, when it turns, I want to have a chance, you know." + +So he persisted in raising the stakes still higher. And he drank! He +emptied the flask of Maraschino, and began upon the Kummel, and would +have emptied that if his host's daughter had not, probably in a moment +of abstraction, removed the case of liqueurs from the table. He was in +the highest spirits, and lost as though losing were a pleasure. And +mademoiselle leant over his shoulder and whispered in his ear. + +But at last her father declared that play must cease. + +"You have had bad fortune," he observed. + +"Extraordinary!" exclaimed Mr Davison; his utterance was a little +thick. "Extraordinary! Never had such bad fortune in my life before. +It isn't fair to judge of a man's form from the play tonight? What do +I owe you? A heap, I know." + +"A trifle," M. de Fontanes looked through his tablets. "Three thousand +seven hundred and fifty francs." + +"Three thousand seven hundred and fifty francs! Why, that's a--that's +a hundred and fifty pounds! Great snakes!" + +The magnitude of the sum almost sobered him. M. de Fontanes smiled. + +"You must try again for your revenge." + +As before, the lady escorted the guest downstairs, "assisted" him +would, on the present occasion, perhaps, have been the better word. +The touch of her hand at parting increased his sense of intoxication. +The cool air of the early morning did not tend to lessen it. He went +staggering over the cobblestones. On the quay he encountered a +solitary figure--the figure of a man who was strolling up and down and +smoking a cigar. Mr Davison, with a burst of tipsy surprise, perceived +that it was Mr Lintorn. + +"Lintorn! I thought you were writing your letters." + +Mr Lintorn quietly surveyed him. + +"Did you? How much have you lost?" + +"How do you know I've lost?" + +"Why?" Mr Lintorn shrugged his shoulders. "The man happens to be a +cheat." + +"Don't--don't you say that again!" + +"Why not? You would have seen it yourself if you had had your wits +about you. He was cheating all the time." + +"You--!" + +Mr Davison struck at his friend. Mr Lintorn warded off the blow. Mr +Davison struck again. The man was drunk and bent upon a row. It was +impossible to avoid him without actually turning tail and fleeing. So +Mr Lintorn let him have it. Mr Davison lay on his back among the +cobble-stones. Mr Lintorn advanced to his assistance. The recumbent +hero greeted him with a volley of abuse. Seeing that to persist would +only be to bring about a renewal of hostilities, Mr Lintorn strolled +off to the hotel alone, leaving Mr Davison to follow at his leisure. + + + CHAPTER III + +The next morning Mr Davison did not put in an appearance at breakfast. +So Mr Lintorn went to look for him in his room. He knocked at the +door. + +"Who's there?" growled a voice within. + +"Lintorn. May I come in?" + +Without waiting for the required permission he entered. The hero was +still in bed. There was that look about him which is noticeable in the +ordinarily sober youth who has enjoyed the night before not wisely, +but too well. And his eye--outside the actual organ--was a beautiful +black. Mr Lintorn started at sight of these signs of mourning. + +"Davison, I had no idea--" + +"You had no idea of what, sir? What do you mean by entering my room?" + +"I cannot express to you how ashamed of myself I feel. I--I had no +idea that I had hit so hard." + +Mr Lintorn felt--too late--that this was one of those delicate +subjects which are best avoided. But the words were spoken. + +"Look here, Mr Lintorn: I chanced to stay in the same hotel with you +at Nice, and it has suited me since, as a traveller, to adapt my +movements to yours. Beyond that, you are a perfect stranger to me. You +are, at best, but a chance acquaintance. Be so good as to consider +that acquaintance dropped." + +Mr Davison spoke, or intended to speak, with the dignity and the +hauteur which are appropriate to the travelling man of fashion, who +has spent six weeks abroad. But such a character is difficult to +maintain when one has "hot coppers" and a black eye, and is lying in +bed. None the less Mr Lintorn perceived that the present was not a +favourable moment for argument. He fixed his glass in his eye, gave Mr +Davison just one look, bowed, and left him to his dignity. + +Mr Davison rang for his shaving-water, and the waiter who brought it +was so indiscreet as to notice the gentleman's condition--the +condition, that is, of what has been called his optic. + +"_Mais, monsieur est blessé!_" + +Mr Davison's knowledge of French was not peculiar for its extent, but +it was sufficient to render him aware that the man exaggerated the +actual fact. + +"Get out!" he shouted. + +The man got out, having learned, it is to be hoped, a lesson in tact. +When Mr Davison began to shave he found that his hand was shaky. His +temper was ruffled, his head ached most dreadfully. The looking-glass +revealed with terrible distinctness the state of his eye; it was +really not surprising that the waiter had found it impossible to avoid +making his little observation. In shaving--not, by the way, in his +case an absolutely indispensable operation--he cut a gash about an +inch and a half in length on the most prominent part of his chin. +This, ornamented with a strip of yellow sticking-plaster, did not, so +to speak, harmonise with the rest of his appearance. It did not +harmonise with his temper, either; he was in a mood to cut the throat +of the first man he met. + +When he had completed his toilet he sat down and penned the following +note:-- + + +"Mr Davison presents his compliments to M. de Fontanes. He encloses +notes to the value of three thousand seven hundred and fifty +francs--the amount of his overnight losses at _écarté_. As such a sum +is larger than Mr Davison cares to lose, he would be obliged by M. de +Fontanes giving him his revenge at the earliest possible moment--say +this evening at eight o'clock." + + +Mr Davison felt this was a communication which any man might be proud +of having written; that it conveyed the impression that he was not a +lad to be trifled with, and that it would give M. de Fontanes and his +daughter to understand that, sooner or later, he would be quits, and +more. Before enclosing the notes it was necessary to have the notes to +enclose. That involved sallying forth to get them. So he sallied +forth, patched chin, black eye, and all, to the banking-house of MM. +Adam et Cie. Those gentlemen were so good as to honour his cheque to +the extent he required--not, however, without commiserating him both +on the state of his chin and the state of his eye. Having received his +notes, he sent his letter. Then he returned to the hotel to wait for a +reply. It came. + + +"MON BRAVE.--Ce soir, à huit heures, chez moi. Mille remercîments. + + "DE FONTANES." + + +Although M. de Fontanes spoke such fluent English, it appeared that he +preferred to trust to his own language when it came to pen and paper. + +On the stroke of eight Mr Davison made his appearance in the Rue des +Anges. His entry made a small sensation. Mdlle. de Fontanes, advancing +to meet him, stopped short with a little cry. + +"Mr Davison! Oh, what is the matter! Are--are you ill?" + +Mr Davison turned the colour of a boiled beetroot. + +"I do not understand you," he said. + +The father's tact was finer than the daughter's. + +"On the stroke of the hour!" he murmured, extending his hand to greet +his guest, as though guests with patched chins and black eyes were +everyday occurrences. + +They sat down to play. Before they commenced Mr Davison delivered +himself of a few remarks. + +"You must understand, M. de Fontanes, that I have lost more than I +quite care to lose. Therefore, I cannot afford to play for trifling +stakes. I suggest with your permission, that we commence with +five-pound points." + +"Five-pound points!" cried mademoiselle. Her distress seemed genuine. + +"I said five-pound points." + +Mr Davison's manner towards the daughter of the house was scarcely +courteous. Perhaps he resented the surprise she had shown at his +appearance. + +"Five pounds--or fifty." + +M. de Fontanes smiled at the board as he murmured this liberal +agreement with his guest's suggestion. + +It was not the drink that night, but the cards! The younger player +never touched a king. Never had a man such luck before. In so short a +space of time as to make the whole affair seem like a conjuring trick, +his debt to M. de Fontanes had entered its second century. He appeared +to grow bewildered, as, indeed, in the face of such a run of luck an +older player might easily have done. He got into such a state that he +would have been unable to play the cards even if he had had them, and +he never had them. + +"This--this is awful!" he groaned. "At this rate I shall be able to do +nothing even if luck turns. What do you say to doubling the stakes?" + +Mdlle. de Fontanes was reclining in an easy-chair, ostensibly reading +a book; in reality following the game. She sprang to her feet. + +"I forbid it!" she cried. "Father, I forbid it!" + +"Do not disturb yourself, my child. I am in all things moderate. The +stakes are high enough--for me." + +Mr Davison's losses increased. He never scored a trick. He was making +a record in bad luck. His lips were parched, his hands trembling. + +"That makes three hundred pounds," said M. de Fontanes, reading his +tablets. + +"Three hundred pounds!" repeated the young man, a little hoarsely, +perhaps. + +"It shall not be!" + +The interruption came from Mdlle. de Fontanes. She advanced to the +table. She laid her hand upon the pack of cards which Mr Davison was +about to deal. Her father looked up at her interrogatively. + +"I say it shall not be. I will not have it, father. Mr Davison, you +owe my father nothing; he cheats you all the time." + +M. de Fontanes rose. His tall figure seemed to tower to an unusual +height. + +"I care not. I tell you, Mr Davison, you owe my father nothing--not a +sou--! He cheats you all the time!" + +Mr Davison staggered to his feet, his eyes opened, as it were, by a +sudden flash of lightning. He threw the pack of cards, which he was +holding, into the old man's face. + +There was silence. Then the old man's lips moved. + +"To-morrow," he muttered, so that the words were scarcely audible, and +left the room. + +When he was gone, the lady addressed the gentleman: + +"You, too, had better go." + +Mr Davison went. Mdlle. de Fontanes was left alone. She did not escort +him down the stairs. And this time, as he walked through the night to +his hotel, it was not a woman's eyes, but a pack of cards which he saw +before him in the air. + + + CHAPTER IV + +The next morning--another morning!--at a very early hour, Mr Davison +entered Mr Lintorn's bedroom. The latter gentleman was still engaged +in his toilet. + +"Lintorn, I am an ass!" + +"The fact," said Mr Lintorn placidly, and as though there had been no +unpleasantness of any kind between them, "does not surprise me so much +as the statement of the fact." + +"I've behaved like an ass to you." + +"You have." + +Mr Lintorn wiped the soap off his razor; he had a steadier hand than +Mr Davison. + +"I've behaved like an ass all round." + +"I can believe it easily. Indeed, you are, in general, an ass. You're +a nice fellow, but you are an ass. You'll grow out of it in time, but +you'll have to do a deal of growing first." Mr Lintorn glanced at his +friend, who was pacing round the room. "How's your eye?" + +"Oh, hang my eye! Lintorn, how much do you think I've lost within the +last three nights? Five hundred pounds!" + +Mr Lintorn whistled. + +"How pleasant it is to be rich and young." + +"But I'm not rich. With the exception of five thousand pounds left me +by my aunt to help me along while I'm reading for the bar, I've +scarcely a penny in the world." + +"Davison, you don't mean that?" + +"I do mean it. And the worst of it is, it's not been fairly lost. That +old rogue's been rooking me all through." + +"Oh, you've discovered that, have you? After trying to murder me for +warning you." + +Then Mr Davison told his tale. How Mdlle. de Fontanes had interrupted +the game, and exposed her father's pernicious practices. Mr Lintorn +expressed much admiration of the lady's conduct. + +"She looked like a goddess then, if you like. I should like to have +seen her." + +"She did look like a goddess; but I don't know that you would have +liked to have seen her. She made me feel uncommonly small, I do know +that." + +"That's of course! but that's so easy." + +While Mr Davison was thinking of a retort with which to crush his +friend--for even a worm will turn--there came a tap at the door. A +waiter entered. + +"A lady to see M. Davison." + +"A lady! To see me! What's her name?" + +"She does not give her name. It is a young lady--a pretty young lady." +It was the waiter who had found it impossible to avoid commenting on +Mr Davison's appearance. It was plain he had not learnt his lesson +yet. "She attends in the _salon_." + +The waiter disappeared. + +"Bet you a guinea," cried Mr Lintorn, "that it's Mdlle. de Fontanes. +Davison, I've almost finished shaving; I'll take this business off +your hands if you like." + +"Thanks; I'm much obliged. This time I will not trouble you." + +It was Mdlle. de Fontanes. When Mr Davison appeared she was standing +in the centre of the room. A thick black veil was before her face. +That waiter must have had keen eyes to detect the prettiness beneath +it. A little packet was in her hand. Opening it, she turned out its +contents on the table. There was a little heap of notes and gold. + +"That is the money which my father has won from you." + +This was her greeting as the young gentleman entered the room. + +"Mdlle. de Fontanes!" + +There was a pause. Mr Davison looked from the lady to the money, and +from the money to the lady. With a little movement she lifted her +veil. + +He saw her face; it was pale, with the look upon it which follows a +sleepless night. + +"Did you think that we would keep it?" She put out her hand and +touched his sleeve. "Did you think so badly of us, then, as that?" + +He thought that he had never seen her look so pretty. There was +something in her voice which caused "a choking in his throat. + +"But I cannot take the money. Especially--if you will forgive me, +Mdlle. de Fontanes--especially from you." + +She sat down. For a moment she covered her face with her hands. +Suddenly she rose. + +"Do not make my burden heavier than it is already. Mr Davison, my +father cannot help but cheat. It is a disease. In the common things of +life he is the most honourable of men--the best of fathers. But with +the cards, night after night, since he must play, I play with him, and +he cheats me." + +She fell on her knees by the side of the table. Burying her face in +her hands, she cried as though her heart would break. Mr Davison could +only whisper-- + +"Mdlle. de Fontanes." + +She looked up at him. + +"Say you forgive me," she cried. + +"Forgive you! I! What have I to forgive?" + +"For taking you home that night; for letting you know my father; for +letting you know me." + +Mr Davison fumbled with a compliment. + +"That--that is an honour for which I--I ought to thank you." + +She rose. She regarded him intently, the tears still stealing from her +eyes. Never had he felt so uncomfortable before a woman's gaze. It +seemed to him that he was passing through all the colour phases of the +rainbow. + +"So you forgive me, truly?" + +"If--if there is forgiveness needed." + +"If you forgive me"--she came close to him, he felt her hand steal +into his--"kiss me, Harry." + +He kissed her as though she were a red-hot coal. Never did a travelled +young man of the world so kiss a pretty woman yet! And when he had +kissed her there was silence. Then, slipping her hand into the bosom +of her dress, she drew out a locket, to which was attached a narrow +black ribbon. + +"Keep this in memory of a chance acquaintance. Look at it sometimes, +and, in looking, think of me. And, in thinking of me, do not think of +me as one who plundered you, but as one who--" + +She paused. She looked down. But he was the most awkward of men. When +she looked up again her face was fiery red. She drew herself away from +him, and when she spoke her tone was changed. + +"So, Mr Davison, you quite perceive that you owe my father nothing. +You two are quits. But there is one thing you must promise me--you +will not fight him." + +"I do not understand." + +"Oh, it is simple. He will challenge you. After what passed last night +he is sure to challenge you. But, however that may be, you must say +'No.'" + +"If you wish me to, I promise. But in England we don't fight duels. + +"No? Not even at the 'Varsity?" + +She nodded to him and smiled. And in a moment she was gone. Mr Davison +found Mr Lintorn still engaged in putting the finishing touches to his +costume. The expression of his countenance was a vivid note of +interrogation. + +"Well, was it she?" + +Mr Davison said "Yes." + +"I should have won that guinea." + +Mr Davison narrated the interview. When he had finished, Mr Lintorn +reflected. + +"Odd! Something of the same sort happened to me. It was at Mentone I +first encountered the de Fontanes. On two or three evenings I played +_écarté_. I lost; but not five hundred pounds. Two or three days +afterwards the sum which I had lost came to me enclosed in an +envelope. Not a scrap of writing was with it, but the address was in a +feminine hand; I always suspected it came from the lady. When I again +inquired for the de Fontanes they were gone. But my curiosity was +piqued. I did not forget them. So I renewed the acquaintance when I +saw them here." + +"If he challenges me, what shall I do? I promised not to fight him. +Besides, the thing would be a rank absurdity." + +"Stand to your promise. I tell you what to do. There's a boat leaves +for Folkestone in an hour. Let's go by it together." + +"But wouldn't that look like running away?" + +"It would be running away." + +Mr Davison did not quite like this way of putting it, but he went. +They travelled together. On the boat Mr Davison remembered the locket. +He opened it. It contained a portrait of the giver. As he eyed it, he +observed in that curious vernacular which is an attribute of some +examples of modern youth,-- + +"By Jingo! aren't those French girls goers?" + +But Mr Lintorn was an older man. His range was wider. + +"Don't judge of a nation by an individual. Mdlle. de Fontanes is +unique; the product, I should say, of a very singular experience." + +Actually, Mr Davison kissed the portrait. + +"I will always keep it," he said. + + + + + X + + THE GIRL AND THE BOY + + + CHAPTER I + +Archie Ferguson's smoking-room. He and I its only occupants. We had +been to a meeting of the Primrose League which had been held at the +neighbouring county town. Knocking off the ash from his cigar, he +broke an interval of silence by asking me a question. + +"Did you notice a woman who, just as we were leaving the hall, came up +and shook hands with me in rather an effusive way?" + +"A good-looking, well-dressed woman, with rather an effusive smile? I +wondered who she was." + +"She's a Mrs Bennett-Lamb. The weight-carrying man who was standing at +her side was Mr Bennett-Lamb. Perhaps you know the name. She and her +husband have been the owners of a good deal of the public-house +property in London which is worth owning. They're the proud possessors +of some of it still. They've made a heap of money. Some of it they've +spent in buying a place near here--Oakdene. It's on the cards that +their daughter--they've only one, and she's an uncommonly pretty +girl--will make a first-rate match. In which case, no doubt, they'll +try to graduate for county honours." + +He flicked off another scrap of ash before he spoke again. + +"It was Mrs Bennett-Lamb who found the money with which to start the +firm. The way in which she found it was curious. It's a queer story. +I'll tell it you, if you like. It's a rather good one." + +I lit another cigar; and smoked it while Ferguson told his story. + + * * * * * + +At that time Mrs Bennett-Lamb was a chorus girl at the Frivolity +Theatre. In those days only pretty girls were allowed to appear on the +Frivolity stage. The management's standard of beauty was a high one. +It drew all London. And the prettiest of the whole crowd was Ailsa +Lorraine. Whether Ailsa Lorraine was or was not her real name I am +unable to tell you; I have reason to know that nowadays her husband +calls her Peggy; but that was the name by which she was known on the +programme. Miss Lorraine was engaged to be married--to Joe Lamb. Where +the "Bennett" comes from Mr and Mrs Bennett-Lamb only know. It is +certain that then the present J. Bennett-Lamb, Esquire, was plain Joe +Lamb. Not to put too fine a point upon it, Joe Lamb was a grocer's +assistant--and not a flourishing specimen of his kind. In fact, the +more he considered his position and future prospects the more +despondent he became. + +One Sunday afternoon he went to tea at Miss Lorraine's. While they +were enjoying the meal he gave utterance to the feelings which filled +his bosom. + +"We've been engaged for more than two years," he began. + +"Two years!" the tone in which she echoed his words were intended to +indicate surprise. "It doesn't seem anything like so long as that, +does it, Joe?" + +"It does to me. It seems every bit as long. In fact, I don't mind +telling you that it seems longer." + +Neither the words nor the manner in which they were spoken suggested a +compliment, as the lady appeared to think. There was a rueful look +upon her pretty face and a mist dimmed her eyes as she asked him a +question in return. + +"Does that mean that it has seemed so long because you're tired of +being engaged to me?" + +"It does; that's just exactly what it does mean." + +"Joe!" + +"Now don't jump up like that! You nearly upset the tray, and I've +hardly touched my third cup of tea. What are you up to? Crying?" + +"I'm sure, Mr Lamb, if you wish to release me you're perfectly at +liberty to do so at once; and you need never see nor speak to me +again. There's no fear of my bringing an action against you for breach +of promise of marriage." + +"Whatever are you talking about?" + +"I'm sure if you'd even dropped so much as the slightest hint you'd +have seen the last of me long enough ago; and I certainly wouldn't +have worried you to come to tea." + +"What have I said or done to start you off like this?--just as I was +beginning on a fresh round of toast!" + +"How dare you say you were tired of being engaged to me!" + +"So I am." + +"Joe--Joe Lamb!" + +"It's gospel truth. I want you for my wife; that's what I want." + +The lady's face perceptibly brightened. The tone of her voice was +altered also. + +"Joe! What extraordinary ways you have of expressing yourself. Will +you kindly explain exactly what it is you mean?" + +"I've been engaged to you more than two years, and you're no nearer +being my wife than you were at the beginning. If anything, you're +further off. And I'm sick and tired of waiting; that's what I mean." + +"If you'd only said so at first." + +"I did; didn't I?" + +"I thought you meant something quite different." + +"I can't help what you thought. I know what I meant." + +"Poor Joe! So you want us to be quick and get married, do you?" + +"Of course I do; what else do you suppose I got engaged for? But we +can't marry on ten bob a week." + +"Hardly." + +"And that's all I get, living in. I asked the governor yesterday to +give me thirty bob and let me live out. He said all he'd give me was a +week's notice." + +"The wretch!" + +"As for bettering myself; I dare say I've spent five shillings on +paper, stamps and envelopes, and nothing's come of it. We don't want +to get married and have you keep on the stage." + +"We certainly don't. I have a voice in that matter. When I marry I +leave the stage for good; I don't marry until I do. I hate the +theatre; that is, I don't mind being in front of the curtain, looking +on; but I hate being behind. I only go there because I don't know any +other way of earning two pounds a week. I've no delusions about the +stage like some of the girls have. But, tell me, Joe, can't you think +of any way of earning more?" + +"There's one way." + +"What's that?" + +"Emigrating." + +As she repeated the word again the expression on the lady's face grew +rueful. + +"Emigrating!" + +"Going to Africa or Canada or one of those places where a fellow has a +chance." + +"But you'd have to leave me behind." + +"That's the worst of it." + +"We mightn't see each other again for years." + +"We mightn't." + +There was a pause. The lady had seated herself on the arm of the chair +on which her lover sat, and was smoothing his hair with her dainty +little hand. + +"Joe, would you like to do that?" + +"I'd sooner do anything--anything! I'd sooner sweep a crossing; I'd +sooner be a shoeblack. I hear that some of them shoeblacks earn six +and seven shillings a day when there's plenty of mud about." + +"I don't think I should care for you to be a shoeblack, even when +there's plenty of mud about. I'd almost rather you did anything than +that." + +"But there's nothing I can do." + +Another pause; this time a longer one. Joe Lamb sat with his hands +thrust deeply into the pockets of his Sunday trousers; a frown upon +his brow. The lady continued to smooth his well-brushed hair. + +"Joe, suppose I were to see my way to earn some money." + +"You! Are they going to raise you to fifty shillings, and give you a +line to speak: 'The carriage waits,' or something of that sort?" + +She suffered his ungraciousness to pass unheeded. + +"Suppose I were to see my way to earn, say, five thousand pounds." + +Mr Lamb, withdrawing his head from the neighbourhood of the lady's +caressing hand, sat bolt upright in his chair with a start. + +"Five--what?" + +"I know a public-house which is to be bought cheap, if bought at once. +Never mind how I know, but I do. We could get it for five thousand +pounds and have plenty over to go on with. You and I might work the +business up and in two years sell it for twice as much as we gave for +it. Joe, what do you think?" + +"I think--it's no use my telling you what I think, because you +wouldn't like it. You might as well talk about buying the moon." + +"I'm not so sure of that. I believe I could earn the money if I +liked." + +"You earn five thousand pounds! Well! I don't want to say +anything--not a word; but might I just ask how you propose to set +about it?" + +"By bringing an action for breach of promise of marriage." + +"What!" + +"I shouldn't be surprised if I got at least five thousand pounds by +way of damages." + +Joe Lamb, who had risen from his seat, was staring at her with, on his +countenance, an expression of increasing stupefaction. + +"From whom?--from me?" + +"The idea!" She laughed, as if the notion tickled her. "In the first +place, I shouldn't dream of suing you, even if you were to prove +false; and you know very well that you're not worth half as many +farthings if I did. No; I propose to obtain my five thousand pounds +from Sir Frank Pickard." + +"Who's Sir Frank Pickard?" + +"He's a young gentleman--a very young gentleman, just turned +twenty-one, who's fallen head over heels in love with me." + +The lady was looking down at her skirt, as she smoothed it with the +tips of her fingers, with an air of the most extreme demureness. Mr +Lamb's face, as he regarded her, was rapidly assuming the hue of a +boiled lobster. + +"So you've been encouraging him, have you?" + +"I have been doing nothing of the kind. So far, I haven't spoken to +him a single word. I've declined to receive his presents--even his +flowers." + +"So he's been sending you presents, has he!--and flowers." + +The lady sighed, as if she found the gentleman a little trying. + +"My dear Joe, all sorts of people fall in love with me to whom I have +never spoken in my life, or they say they do. They send me flowers and +presents, and all kinds of things, which I always refuse to accept, +although some of the other girls call me a goose for my pains. I can't +help their falling in love with me, can I?" + +She looked up at him with an air of innocence which was almost too +perfect to be real. So far from it appeasing him, he began stamping up +and down the room, clenching and unclenching his fists as he moved. + +"A nice sort of thing for a man to be told by his young woman! You +shall leave that confounded theatre this week!" + +"To do so is part of my plan. I shall hand in my notice +to-morrow--that is, if I am engaged to Sir Frank Pickard by then." + +"What?" + +"Joe! don't be silly! Why are you glaring at me like that? Won't you +understand? Already, in three separate and distinct letters Sir Frank +has asked me to marry him." + +"Has he?" + +"Though, of course, I've paid no sort of attention to his insane +request." + +"I should think it was insane!" + +"I don't fancy I use the word in quite the same sense in which you do. +However, I've been making inquiries about him. I find he's of a very +old family, and tremendously rich. His father is dead. He's the only +child of his mother; she can't prevent his doing anything he chooses +to do, and she wouldn't if she could. She idolises him. During his +minority the income has accumulated, until now he has at his command a +perfectly enormous sum of ready money. Five thousand pounds is nothing +to him, or ten either. My idea is to ask him to call on me to-morrow, +and then to get him to repeat in person the proposal which he has +already made by letter. Having accepted him, I shall see that +he puts it all down in black and white, so that everything is quite +ship-shape. And then I shall hand in my notice at the theatre." + +During the lady's remarks Mr Lamb's countenance was a panorama of +disagreeable emotions. + +"And where do you suppose I shall be while all this is going on?" + +"You'll be at the shop." + +"Not much I sha'n't. I'll keep on hanging about your front door until +I catch sight of your fine gentleman; and then I'll break his neck." + +"Don't be silly. After we're engaged and everything is signed and +sealed and settled I shall begin to behave in a fashion which will +soon make him as anxious to break his promise as he was to make it." + +"I bet he will! You wait till I get within reach of him, that's all." + +"You will not appear upon the scene. You would spoil all if you did. I +shall manage everything." + +"I fancy I see myself letting you do it! You've got some pretty ideas +of your own!" + +"You'll find by the time I've finished that I've some very pretty ones +indeed. You don't know what a treasure you possess. When Sir Frank +begins to show signs of wanting to back out of his promise I shall +begin to talk about my injured feelings; to which, however, he'll find +it possible to apply a soothing plaster in the shape of--well, say +five thousand pounds." + +"You're a nice piece of goods, upon my word! I ask you again where do +you suppose I shall be while all this is going on?" + +"And I tell you again, you'll be at the shop. You open so early and +close so late, and get out so little on week-days, that you never get +a chance of seeing me even after I leave the theatre. Possibly by next +Sunday, when we shall have a chance of seeing each other again, it +will all be settled." + +"By next Sunday?" + +"Exactly. I mean to keep things moving. Possibly by next Sunday I +shall be within reach of the money which will enable us to marry and +ensure our future happiness. Think how delightful that will be! We +can't marry on ten shillings a week; after we're married I don't mean +to stay on at the theatre, and so keep up a home for us both; and as +for your emigrating--the chances are that we might never see each +other again. And, anyhow, it might be years before you earned even a +tenth part of five thousand pounds. So do be reasonable. I'm sure if +you think it over you'll see perfectly well that my way is by far the +best." + +It was some time before Mr Lamb was reasonable--from the lady's point +of view. It is doubtful if to the end he saw as plainly as she would +have liked him to, that her way was the best. But at that period of +her career she had a way about her to which few men were capable of +offering a prolonged resistance. Joe Lamb was distinctly not one of +those few. By the time they parted she wrung from him what she told +him plainly she intended to regard as his approbation of her nefarious +schemes. So soon as his back was turned she wrote a stiff, formal +note, in the third person, in which she informed Sir Frank Pickard +that Miss Ailsa Lorraine would be at home to-morrow--Monday--afternoon +at three o'clock and might be disposed to see him if he desired to +call. + +"It's not exactly a nice sort of thing to do," she admitted to +herself, as she secured this epistle in an envelope. "But it's the +sort of opportunity which never may occur again; it seems wicked to +throw it away. Especially as poor dear Joe never will be able to get +the money by himself. I am convinced that he's just the sort of man to +take advantage of a chance if he has one. And I love him well enough +to get him one. And that's the whole truth in a nutshell." + + + CHAPTER II + +On the Monday afternoon a hansom drew up at the door of the by no +means pretentious house in which Miss Lorraine had her quarters. +Out of it stepped Sir Frank Pickard. He bore with him upstairs what +seemed to be a by no means insignificant portion of the contents of a +fair-sized shop. In one hand he carried a magnificent bouquet, a large +basket of splendid fruit, a big box of bonbons and a mysterious case +which, as a matter of fact, was filled with various kinds of gloves. +In the other were unconsidered trifles in the shape of bottles of +perfume, silver knickknacks, a writing case, and other odds and ends. +His arms were filled with parcels of different shapes and sizes which +contained he alone knew what. Under the circumstances it was not +surprising that he found it a little difficult to know what to do with +his hat. As he entered Miss Lorraine's sitting-room he was in a state +of some confusion. Plumping the contents of one of his arms on the +nearest chair, whence they mostly proceeded to tumble on to the floor, +he removed his hat in a fashion which was rather dexterous than +elegant. As if conscious that he was not making his first appearance +under the most propitious conditions, his cheeks were a beautiful +peony red. + +Miss Lorraine had risen to receive him. She had on her best frock--a +frock which she specially reserved for high-days and holidays. +Although she had made it herself, it could not have become--or +fitted--her better had it been the creation of one of the world's +great dressmakers. At least, such was the instant and unhesitating +opinion of Sir Frank Pickard. He felt that he had never seen a more +perfect example of feminine beauty--of all that was desirable in +woman; he was convinced that he never should. He was trembling from +head to foot; as some boys still do tremble when, for the first time +in their lives, they are head over heels in love. Miss Lorraine, on +the other hand, was both cool and calm--an accident which enabled her +to perceive that her visitor was very much the reverse. She looked him +up and down, inclining to the opinion, as the result of her +inspection, that he was not an ill-looking boy. He was fairly tall, +broad-shouldered, carried himself well, and looked a gentleman. She +told herself that, had her affections not been pre-engaged, it was +extremely possible that she might have regarded him in quite a +different kind of way. But her heart really was Joe Lamb's; and she +never for a moment contemplated the feasibility of transferring it to +anybody else. + +The lady was the first to speak. + +"You are Sir Frank Pickard?" + +The visitor had been afforded an opportunity to disencumber himself of +his parcels, and therefore ought to have become more at his ease. But +the simple truth was that the sight of the lady embarrassed him more +than the parcels had done. His heart was thumping against his ribs; he +seemed to be giving way at the knees; his tongue clave to the roof of +his mouth. However, he managed to stammer out something; though it was +only with difficulty that he could articulate at all. + +"It's awfully good of you to let me come and see you." + +The lady smiled--a smile which might have been described as of the +glacial kind. + +"Will you sit down, Sir Frank?" + +He sat down, on the extreme edge of a chair, as if fearful of +occupying too much of it at once. He looked--and no doubt +was--excessively uncomfortable. Placing herself in the only arm-chair +the room contained, she observed him with an air which was at once +both cruel and condescending. + +"You have written me one or two notes, Sir Frank?" + +He stammered worse than ever. Not only did he find the question an +awkward one, but it seemed to him that the lady was even more +bewitching in the arm-chair than she had been when standing up. As he +realised--or thought he realised--her charms still more clearly, his +few remaining senses were rapidly deserting him. + +"I--I'm afraid I did." + +"In which you asked me, a perfect stranger, to be your wife?" + +"I--I'm awfully sorry." + +"You are sorry? Indeed. Do you mean that you are sorry you asked me to +be your wife?" + +He gasped. There was something in her tone, something in the way in +which she peeped at him from under the long lashes which shaded her +violet eyes, something in her attitude, in the quality of the smile +which parted her pretty lips, which set every fibre in his body +palpitating. What did she mean? What could she mean? Was it possible +that she meant--what he had scarcely dared to hope she ever would +mean? + +In his stuttering eagerness his words tumbled headforemost over each +other. + +"Of course what I meant was that I know perfectly well that I never +ought to have written to you like that. It was frightful cheek, +and--and the sort of thing I ought to be kicked for. But as for being +sorry that I asked you to be my wife--!" The boy's feelings were so +intense that for the moment his breath entirely failed him. When he +continued, tears were actually standing in his eyes. "Oh, Miss +Lorraine, if you only knew what I have felt since I first saw you. I +have been to the theatre every night; I have waited at the stage door +to see you come out--" + +"So I understand. It was very wrong of you." + +"I had to do something--I couldn't help it. I didn't know anyone +who'd introduce me; you wouldn't answer my letters; you refused my +presents--" + +"Certainly; under the circumstances they were so many insults." + +"I didn't mean them for insults--I swear I didn't. I wouldn't have +insulted you, or allowed anyone else to insult you, not--not for all +the gold of the Indies." + +"Sir Frank, the question I put to you was, are you sorry that you +asked me to be your wife? That is, did you really wish me to be your +wife, and do you wish it still?" + +"Wish it! I'd give all I have if you'd be my wife; you'd make me the +happiest fellow in the world!" + +"If you truly mean that--" + +"Put me to the test and see if I mean it!--say yes!" + +"I do believe that you mean it; so I will say yes. One moment, Sir +Frank!" Rising from his chair the young gentleman showed symptoms of a +desire to express his feelings in a style which the lady might have +found slightly inconvenient. "A girl in my position cannot be too +careful. If you care for me as you say, you will see that even better +than I do." That was rather a bold stroke of Miss Lorraine's, and a +clever one. For it made an irresistible appeal to the boy's quixotic +nature. "Remember, you and I are still almost strangers. Nevertheless, +you have asked me to be your wife; and I have consented. Will you +write a few lines, setting forth the exact position of affairs, on +this sheet of paper?" + +She pointed to paper, pens and ink, which were on the centre table. +The youngster did hesitate. There was a matter-of-fact air about the +fashion in which the lady made her suggestion which, even to his eyes, +rather blurred the romance of the situation. But his hesitation did +not endure. He was like wax in her hands. Presently he sat down and +wrote on a sheet of paper the words which--without his being +altogether conscious of the fact--she had put at the point of his pen. + +"You understand, Sir Frank," she remarked, as she folded up what, +from her point of view, was an invaluable document, and slipped +it in the bodice of her dress, "this engagement of ours must be no +hole-and-corner affair. You must not conceal it from your mother!" + +"Of course not. I never have concealed anything from her in my life, +and I certainly don't mean to start concealing from her that I'm +engaged to be married." + +"You must introduce me to her." + +"Rather! I shall be only too delighted, if you'll let me. She already +has some idea of how it is with me. I wrote to her that I'd fallen +head over heels in love. She always has said that she'd like me to +marry young; when she hears that I'm to be married right away she'll +be delighted." + +Miss Lorraine was not so sure. But she did not say so. She was +becoming momentarily more convinced that this really was a remarkable +young man. + +"When do you think you can introduce me to your mother? I should like +it to be as soon as possible." + +She was thinking of the following Sunday, and of her provisional +promise to Mr Lamb. + +"Next Wednesday, if that wouldn't be too early." + +"Not at all. Wednesday would suit me perfectly." + +"That's awfully good of you; because, in that case, I shall be able to +introduce you not only to my mother, but, as it were, to everybody +else as well. You see, the village people are holding their annual +flower show on Wednesday, at my place in Sussex; I've lent them one of +my fields. And my mother's got a house-party, and that kind of thing, +to do honour to the occasion. I think it would be even better if you +could come to-morrow, that's Tuesday. And then by Wednesday you'll +know the whole houseful; and then at the flower show I could introduce +you to the village people, they're nearly all my tenants. If you'll +say yes, I'll run down at once and let my mother know you're coming." + +"To-morrow will suit me even better than Wednesday, thank you." + +"And of course you'll stay the rest of the week, and over Sunday." + +"You'll be tired of me long before then; and your mother also." + +"Not she! My mother doesn't tire so easily. And as for me, I shall +never be tired of you--never!" + +The lady was of a different opinion, but she did not say so. + +When they parted it was on the understanding that Sir Frank Pickard +was to go and prepare his mother's mind for the coming of his lady +love upon the morrow; and the lady was left in the possession of more +valuable property than she had previously owned, if all that she had +ever had in her life had been lumped together. + +As she contemplated her new belongings, and reread what was written on +the sheet of paper which she took out of her bodice, she made certain +inward comments. + +"Some girls would marry him straight off, perhaps most girls, and +forget that there ever was a Joe. And if I did marry him he should +never have cause to regret it, nor to be ashamed of me; nor his mother +either; nor his friends. If I liked, I could make as good a Lady +Pickard as anyone. But, fortunately or unfortunately, I don't happen +to be that particular kind of girl. I'd rather be Mrs Joe Lamb, with +five thousand pounds in my pocket, than Lady Frank Pickard, with fifty +thousand pounds a year." + +She smiled a very peculiar smile, which, if anything, rather enhanced +her charms. She made a very pretty picture as she turned Sir Frank's +promise of marriage over and over between her fingers. + + + CHAPTER III + +It is not on record how exactly Lady Pickard received her son's +communication. It may be taken for granted that it was not with +feelings of ecstatic delight. To hear that he proposed to present her +with a daughter-in-law to whom he had spoken only once in his life +could hardly have filled her breast with the proud consciousness of +his peculiar wisdom. Nor, probably, was her estimate of his character +heightened when she learned that the lady in question was a chorus +girl at the Frivolity Theatre. It is within the range of possibility +that the reception of the news was followed by what, for her, was a +very bad half-hour. There is even reason to suspect that she then and +there retired to her own apartment, and, for a time at least, was the +unhappiest woman in England. No mother likes, unexpectedly, to +discover that the son whom she has idolised has suddenly shown signs +of being a hopeless idiot. + +But Lady Pickard was a cleverer woman than her boy, at that time, +imagined. When, after a few dreadful minutes, the first stress of the +shock began to fade away, she commenced to perceive, however dimly, +that the situation might not, after all, be so terrible as it actually +appeared. She realised, also, that there were two or three facts which +she would have to bear in mind. + +In the first place, her son was his own master. Whom he would wed, he +could wed; no one might say him nay. In the second, considering his +position, and his sex, he had been on the whole a tolerably fair +specimen of his kind; he was not, at bottom, such an absolute idiot as +his own conduct had so uncomfortably suggested. She felt sure that +there was something to be said about the girl, or he would not have +chosen her. She had reason to know that his taste, as regards women, +was fastidiousness itself. If he had asked her to his home she +entertained a pleasant conviction that, superficially at anyrate, she +need not fear any shocking scandal. He would bring no woman there of +whose conduct, appearance, or manners there was any serious risk of +his being ashamed. Of so much she felt persuaded. In her heart she was +still persuaded that, where women were concerned, his judgment might, +in the long run, be implicitly relied upon. Since there was positively +no means of postponing the lady's threatened visit, she was far too +wise to risk a public rupture with her son, with the accompanying +scandal. It was just as well that she had such an assurance. + +As for the future--well, her son was not yet married to Miss Ailsa +Lorraine. All sorts of little accidents might intervene. Some one or +other of them might yet induce him to change his point of view. It was +conceivable that she might never quarrel with her boy at all, and +still be rid of the lady. + +She, of course, had not the dimmest notion of the fact that, for +reasons of which she could not have the faintest inkling, there was +not the slightest danger of Miss Ailsa Lorraine ever becoming Lady +Pickard. + +Various friends of her own were coming to stay with her during the +week of the flower-show--that great event of the village year. On the +Tuesday, carriage after carriage brought visitors from the station to +the house. As the afternoon drew on nearly every bedroom in the big, +old place had its occupant. It was glorious weather. Tea was being +served out of doors. The people were, for the most part, in the best +of tempers, and the highest spirits. Frank Pickard was very far from +being the most miserable person there. On the contrary he was brimming +over with health and happiness. So happy, indeed, was he, that, +boy-like, he seemed quite incapable of concealing from anyone the +cause of his contentment. Not altogether to his mother's satisfaction, +he blurted out to everyone who cared to listen to the tale of his good +fortune in being able to persuade a feminine paragon to promise to be +his wife. Soon all were aware that, shortly, the lady was to be +presented to them in person. Frank would have liked her to have come +by an earlier train--indeed the earliest. But, instead, the lady had +chosen to travel by what was almost the latest, one so late, in fact, +that it necessitated putting off the already late dinner to permit of +her being among the other guests at table. + +"I'm frightfully sorry," he explained. "But, of course, if she +couldn't come any earlier, she couldn't; we shall have to make the +best of it. Hullo!--who's this?" + +The drive to the house wound along one side of the lawn on which the +guests were assembled for tea. As he spoke, there appeared on the +drive a waggonette--a village waggonette--an ancient, dilapidated +vehicle, which was the property of Mr Goshawk, the local flyman. On +the box were two figures--a man and a woman. As Sir Frank spoke, the +conveyance stopped. The woman climbed down from the box to the body of +the vehicle, from which she presently emerged, carrying, as best she +could, several brown-paper parcels, and a cardboard hatbox. The driver +appeared to remonstrate. + +"Don't you trouble about those, miss," he was heard to remark. "I'll +take them up to the house." + +The woman's reply was still more audible. "There aren't any flies on +me; not much you don't. The odds are that if I once lose sight of my +belongings I shall never see them again. I know you cabmen. Thank you +very much; but if it's all the same to you, what's mine I'll stick +to." + +Hampered by her various possessions, she scrambled as best she could +over the wire fencing on to the lawn. With one or other of her +miscellaneous properties bumping against her at every step, she came +striding towards the tea-drinkers. It chanced that young Brock was the +first person she came to. He was engaged in a _tête-à -tête_ with +Florence Stacey of such an engrossing kind that he was not even aware +of the advent of the waggonette. His first intimation of the +stranger's approach was obtained from Miss Stacey. + +"I do believe she's coming to you," she cried. Rising from his seat, +Brock turned to see what was meant, and almost in the same instant +found himself in the stranger's arms, that dexterous person managing +to throw them about him without shedding a single parcel. + +"Hullo, Frank, old boy," she exclaimed. "You're looking a bit of all +right, upon my word. Catch hold of some of these, there's a good chap; +I've had about enough of them." + +Before the astounded Brock--who, at that stage of his existence, would +not have been seen carrying even so much as a pair of gloves!--could +realise what was happening, he found himself in possession of +half-a-dozen large and untidy brown-paper parcels of different shades, +and a shabby, old cardboard box, tied round with what looked like a +clothes-line. It is true that, so soon as he had them he dropped them, +but, as he was often told afterwards, that was the moment of his life +at which he ought to have been photographed. He would have made a +striking picture. So soon as his feelings permitted, he demanded an +explanation. + +"What do you mean by going on like this? Who are you? I don't know +you. And my name's not Frank." + +The newcomer remained unabashed. + +"All right, old man; no harm done; keep your hair on." + +She regarded him fixedly, as if he were some strange specimen which +she was endeavouring to place, the unfortunate Brock showing a marked +disposition to retreat from her immediate neighbourhood. At last it +seemed she arrived at the conclusion that there had been some slight +misunderstanding. + +"Well, if I wasn't mistaking you for somebody else! It's lucky I +didn't kiss you in front of the crowd, wasn't it?" Stanley Brock's +inflamed countenance hinted that he thought it was. The lady only +smiled. She proceeded to explain still further. "You're a nice-looking +boy, especially in those nice white calico clothes"--the "calico" +clothes in question were of linen duck--"but you're not my boy; now +that I look at you right in front I see that you're not my boy. My +boy's as nice-looking as you are, and perhaps a little nicer; no +offence, my rosy lad." This was possibly a delicate allusion to +Brock's complexion, which was becoming momentarily more ensanguined. +"My boy's Sir Frank Pickard. You see, although I'm going to be his +wife I've only seen him once; and then I scarcely had what you might +call a real good look at him. Seems queer, doesn't it? Ours is a +romance, ours is--one of the good old-fashioned sort. I'm Miss Ailsa +Lorraine, and I was, up to yesterday, in the chorus at the Frivolity. +He fell in love with me from the front row of stalls; that's how it +is, you see. They tell me Sir Frank Pickard lives here. You don't +happen to know if he's anywhere about just now?" + +Frank Pickard's sensations during this scene were of a kind which, +although they were never forgotten, he never cared--or dared--to +recall. He would have found it difficult to diagnose them, either then +or at any other time. When, in after years his thoughts recurred--as +they sometimes would--to that moment, what he remembered chiefly was +the burning desire which seized him that the ground might open, and he +sink into it and be hidden from the sight of all for evermore. + +The whole thing was such a bolt from the blue. A moment before he had +been telling everyone what a charming person he had won for his +wife--how she combined in her person all those attributes which go to +make up the perfect woman. With his mother he had dwelt upon the fact +of her refinement; had specially pointed out that, though she was only +a chorus girl, she was still a high-bred lady. On questions of +refinement and breeding he was conscious that his mother esteemed his +judgment. + +And now, all at once, he found himself confronted by a young woman who +was attired in a costume which suggested, more than anything else, a +caricature of the tasteless vulgarity to which a certain sort of +female could attain. She wore--on that blazing summer's day--a +fantastically-cut, ill-fitting dress of scarlet satin--very long +behind and very short in front--which was edged and trimmed with some +weird material in light green. A black silk petticoat--with ragged +edges--was more than visible; as also were her openwork light +blue silk stockings, terminated by a pair of cheap, brand-new +mustard-coloured shoes. On her bedizened hair was a monstrous picture +hat, which bade fair to take the earliest opportunity of toppling +forward over her eyes. The fingers of her ungloved hands were covered +with gaudy--but worthless--rings; half a dozen bracelets and bangles +of silver, and more than dubious gold, were on either wrist; a +preposterous chatelaine dangled from a still more ridiculous belt; +while her neck was imprisoned by a two-inch-high collar of imitation +pearls. To complete the picture, her cheeks were rouged and powdered; +her eyebrows pencilled, and her eyes kohled; her lips carmined. In +spite of all her efforts she had been unable to conceal the fact that +she was pretty; but, under the circumstances, her prettiness seemed to +make the matter worse. + +Frank Pickard stared at her as if she were some creature born of a +nightmare. Was this the dainty damsel whom he had been worshipping +from a distance and who had seemed still daintier when he had been +brought into close neighbourhood with her yesterday? What hideous +metamorphosis had taken place in her between this and then? If he +could only have taken to his heels and run! + +He was not to escape so easily. Having received no answer from Stanley +Brock, she repeated her inquiry. + +"I say, old man, look lively! Didn't you hear me ask you if Sir Frank +Pickard was anywhere about?" + +Mr Brock moved his hand in a sort of vague half-circle, which +comprised the spot on which the gentleman in question was standing as +if rooted to the ground. + +"There is Sir Frank Pickard." + +With that genius for blundering which Miss Lorraine seemed to have all +at once developed, swinging round, she grasped by both her hands the +nearest gentleman, who happened to be General Taylor, one of Lady +Pickard's oldest and most particular friends. + +"Why, Frankie, I don't take it to be very kind of you not to be taking +any notice of me at all. Scotland Yard! you're not Frankie! You're old +enough to be his grandpa!" She returned to Stanley Brock; as if the +fault were his. "What are you giving us? This isn't my Frank! I'm not +collecting fossils just yet, if it's all the same to you." + +What the General felt--and his friend the hostess--history does not +recount. Silence had settled down on the assembly which was more +eloquent than any ribald laughter could possibly have been; it was the +silence of stupefaction. It meant that everyone was on tenterhooks as +to what was the next thing which this extraordinary person--who had +dropped from the clouds--would do or say. Screwing his courage to the +sticking point, Frank did his best to rescue his friends from an +impossible situation. Advancing towards the dreadful stranger, he +addressed her with what one is bound to admit was a voice which +trembled. + +"Good afternoon, Miss Lorraine." + +She looked at him with a glance which was both impudent and +mischievous. + +"Miss Lorraine! What ho! So you've turned up at last; and now you have +turned up you don't seem over hearty. I say, Frankie dear, I wish +you'd give me a hand with my baggage. These brown-paper parcels +contain pretty nearly everything I've got in the world; my evening +dress is in this one. Such a oner! you wait till you see it, you'll +stare! Being tumbled about anyhow on the grass won't do it any good. +Help me to put the whole lot of it straight, there's a dear." + +She was stooping over her collection of miscellaneous rubbish with the +apparent intention of piling it into something like a symmetrical +heap. Frank showed commendable presence of mind. + +"If you will walk with me up to the house, we will send a servant +down, and have it all placed in your room." + +Miss Lorraine showed no desire to associate herself with his plan to +remove her, at anyrate, temporarily, from the scene. + +"I'm not going to walk up to the house with you, not much I'm not. +Where I am I'll stay. Look here, Frank, if these people are your +friends you introduce them to your future wife; I don't like being +among a lot of folks and not know who's who. It don't seem sociable. +And where's your mother? You promised to introduce me to the old lady +the very first chance you had." + +The "old lady" thus delicately referred to--who was herself of opinion +that she was still very far from being old--cast at her son such a +glance that he became immediately conscious that compliance with Miss +Lorraine's request was altogether out of the question. He ingeniously +shirked it. + +"Won't you have some tea? You must be tired--you came by an earlier +train than we expected." + +"That's how it turned out. I'll tell you how it was. This dress, you +see, that I've got on, it isn't my own, it belongs to a lady who's a +friend of mine. I asked her to lend it to me directly I knew I was +coming down here, and she said she would; but we're not the same +figures, you know, and I knew it'd want a good bit of altering, taking +in here and letting out there; your friends'll understand how +sometimes one lady's dress has to be pulled about before it can be got +to fit another, and I thought it wouldn't be finished before the train +I told you of. But it turned out after all that there wasn't so much +difference in our waists as I'd supposed, she was only three-quarters +of an inch--" + +Frank made a gallant effort to curtail what bade fair to be some +extremely intimate personal details. + +"Did you say you'd have some tea?" + +"I didn't say anything about it, that I know of. I can't say that I +care for tea, not as a general rule; but I don't mind having a drop if +there's nothing better going. Hullo, where's the old lady off to?--and +the old chap I mistook for you?" + +The "old lady" and the "old chap" were Lady Pickard and General +Taylor. The pair were making a dash for cover. + +"Why, they're all going!" + +They all were. Following her ladyship's lead the entire company was +showing a disposition to seek safety in flight. Frank stammered an +explanation. + +"You see, they had their tea before you came; I expect they've all got +something to do." + +Miss Lorraine feigned indifference, even if she felt it not. + +"Oh, they can go for all I care. It makes no odds to me. If my company +isn't good enough for them I'm sure I don't want to keep 'em. Besides, +if we're left alone it'll give you a chance to say some of those +pretty things which are nearly dropping off the tip of your tongue. I +say, Frankie, don't you think I'm looking simply sweet?" + +What "Frankie" answered the chronicles do not state. + + + CHAPTER IV + +"Frank, is this an intentional outrage of which you have been guilty? +Or is it an insolent practical joke which you have planned to play at +the expense of your mother's friends?" + +For the first time in his life Frank Pickard saw his mother really +angry. Of the reality of her anger, as he confronted her in her +boudoir, to which he had ascended in obedience to an urgent summons, +there could be no doubt. He was conscious that her anger was +justified. He was ready enough to admit it. + +"It is neither, mother. Only--I don't understand." + +"What don't you understand?" + +"How the Miss Lorraine I saw yesterday has become transformed into the +Miss Lorraine you saw just now." + +"My dear Frank, I don't wish to hurt your feelings--although you have +shown yourself indifferent as to mine--" + +"Mother!" + +"So I will not probe too deeply into the matter of what you call +'transformations,' and similar mysteries; I merely wish to know how +long you propose to allow that person--whose presence, even in the +immediate neighbourhood, is a monstrous insult both to your +acquaintances and to me--to continue on these premises." + +"I should like you, first of all, to believe that this is not the +person I saw yesterday." + +"Do you desire me to understand that this is not the person you asked +to be your wife?" + +"She is, and she is not. I assure you that I should never have +extended that invitation to the person you have seen to-day. At +present, I can't explain. I don't understand myself. A trick has been +played on me. Before I have finished I will find out exactly how it +has been done; and why, and by whom it has been played." + +"And in the meantime, while you are examining the intricacies of a +puzzle which is simplicity itself to all but you, do you propose that +the young woman shall continue an inmate of this establishment?" + +"I do not. On the contrary, I have requested General Taylor to get rid +of her at once." + +"Frank!" + +"Mother, I am not the fool I seem to be. I assure you that the girl I +fell in love with, and whom I asked to be my wife, was not like the +one you have seen. I have already been putting two and two together. I +am beginning to suspect that I have been the victim of some sort of +conspiracy. The only thing I can do is to free myself from it as soon +as I possibly can." + +"But how do you intend to be rid of the girl? You don't imagine that +she will take herself off at your mere request--or General Taylor's?" + +"I am inclined to fancy that this is about to resolve itself into a +question of money. I have instructed the Genera! to offer her any sum +within reason for my release, and for the return of a certain document +which she obtained from me yesterday." + +"Frank!" + +"You see, mother, it is necessary to take immediate action; at any +cost I must free you from the risk of again encountering this person, +not to speak of the others. Had I more time for consideration, I might +take other steps. As it is, I don't think that the General will have +so much difficulty as he perhaps anticipates." + +For once in a while, rather late in the day, Frank Pickard's judgment +was not at fault; General Taylor had no difficulty whatever. The +General had an interview with the lady in question in the library, +having deemed it desirable to fortify himself for it by a preliminary +glass of sherry. As it turned out, however, as a fortifier the sherry +was completely wasted; he had no resistance to encounter. + +He opened proceedings with what was distinctly a professional tone and +air. + +"I am a soldier, Miss--eh--Lorraine, and therefore accustomed to come +to the point without any sort of circumlocution. I will therefore at +once put to you the question for which I have solicited the favour of +this interview. How much do you require to leave this house at once; +to release Sir Frank Pickard from his engagement to marry you, and for +the surrender of the written undertaking which you extracted from him +yesterday?" + +Some ladies would have resented both the form in which the inquiry was +couched, and the manner in which it was put. The General thought it +extremely possible that, in this case, resentment might take a shape +which was at once active and unpleasant. He was mistaken. The lady, as +soon as the inquiry was addressed to her, answered, with the most +matter-of-fact air in the world,-- + +"Five thousand pounds." + +The General stared. He was genuinely taken aback by the magnitude of +the demand, and by the prompt calmness with which it was made. + +"Five thousand pounds! Monstrous! Do you take Sir Frank Pickard for a +fool?" + +The lady smiled. + +"I don't think, General, that, if I were you, I should ask too many +questions like that--it might be awkward for everyone concerned. The +sum I have named is my lowest figure; my very lowest. As I believe the +lawyers put it, it is named without prejudice. Unless I receive a +cheque for that amount during the next fifteen minutes by that clock +on the shelf, the figure will be raised. And as, also, if I am to +remain for dinner there is not much time for me to put on my other +frock--a startler, General, I give you my word!--I shall be obliged if +you will not keep me a moment longer than you can help." + +The General stared still more. It burst on him, with the force of an +electric shock, that his young friend had placed himself in a very +peculiar position indeed. Some remarks, in good, plain Saxon, were +exchanged. As a result, the General interviewed his principal. After a +period of time, which probably did not much exceed the fifteen minutes +she had named, the lady quitted the house she had so recently entered +as an invited guest, with her brown-paper parcels, and her cardboard +bonnet-box, but without that sheet of paper on which Sir Frank Pickard +had placed a formal undertaking to make her his wife. + +That same night when, at last, Joe Lamb was enabled, by the closing of +his master's shop, to get out into the streets to obtain what, +comparatively speaking, was a mouthful of fresh air, he received a +boisterous salute from a female in gorgeous and fantastic attire. + +"Hullo, Joey! How goes it, my gay young pippin?" + +He showed signs of objecting both to the address, and the person from +whom it came. + +"Don't holler at me like that; who are you? Why--if it isn't Peggy! +What's the meaning of this Guy Fawkes show?" + +"Crummy, isn't it? It's earned me that." + +She held out in front of him a slip of paper. He took it in his +fingers. + +"What's this?--a cheque?--payable to you!--for five thousand pounds! +Peggy, what does this mean?" + +"It means that what I told you of 's come off, and before next Sunday, +too. It means that I've been engaged to be married since I saw you; +and now I'm disengaged again; and I've been paid five thousand pounds +for allowing myself to be disengaged again. It was this rig-out did +it. You remember that scene at the Frivolity, where the costers were +supposed to take their donahs to Hampstead Heath on a bank holiday? +This was one of the costumes which the girls wore. The sight of it was +enough for Sir Frank Pickard and his aristocratic friends. I could +have got ten thousand if I'd liked, but I was satisfied with five. +Joe, that means that you needn't emigrate; and that we can be married +whenever you like." + +They were married within the month. + + * * * * * + +When Sir Archibald Ferguson had finished the story which is here set +down, I regarded him for some moments in silence. + +"That's not a bad yarn; but--how come you to be so well acquainted +with the intimate details?" + +Before he answered he rolled his cigar over and over between his +fingers as if considering. Then he stood up in front of the fireplace +and, from that vantage post, beamed down at me. + +"I'll tell you. Open confession is--occasionally--good for the soul. I +can trust you. I have taken the liberty to alter the names of some of +my characters. The Frank Pickard of my story is--yours truly, Archie +Ferguson." + +"No?" + +"Yes. Seems incredible, doesn't it, that a staid and happily-married +man of many years' standing, with a big family of strapping sons and +daughters, should have been that particular kind of idiot. But it's +true; I was. It only demonstrates--what perhaps does not need +demonstration--that because a youngster shows himself to be a +first-class fool as a youngster, you mustn't take it for granted that +he's going to continue to be a fool his whole life long." + +"But how came you to be so well posted in the lady's part of the +story?" + +"That's not the least queer part of it. When Mr and Mrs Bennett-Lamb +first established themselves here I felt--funny. I didn't know what I +might expect. But one day we were going up by the same train to town. +She invited me into her compartment. I didn't quite like going, but--I +did. We had the compartment to ourselves. After the train had started +she told me her side of the story, exactly as I have told it you. She +told it uncommonly well--uncommonly. And by the time the train reached +town I was more than half inclined to the opinion that the five +thousand pounds had been judiciously expended. Fact! She has made her +husband a first-rate wife, and been an excellent mother to his child. +In fact, she's an all-round clever woman." + +"So," I admitted, with a degree of candour which I am not sure that he +altogether relished, "I should imagine." + + + + + XI + + A MUTUAL AFFINITY + + + CHAPTER I + +"What the--blazes!" + +George Coventry sat with an open envelope in his hand. It was an +ordinary white envelope--"business" size--of not too fine a quality. +It was addressed: "George Coventry, Esq., Hôtel Metropole, Brighton." +The address was type-written. + +"Dun!" + +That was the one word which had crossed his mind when he first glanced +at the exterior of this missive. When he took it up his suspicions +were strengthened. It was fat and bulky. + +"Contains either a writ or a bill in several volumes." + +He laid it down again. He looked at it ruefully as he puffed at his +pipe. Then, gathering together his courage with a sigh, he opened it. +It was at this point he emitted the above exclamation,--"What +the--blazes!" + +The envelope was full of crinkly pieces of paper--bank-notes. There +were ten of them. Each was for a thousand pounds. Mr Coventry stared +at them with bewildered amazement. + +"Someone is having a joke with me! Bank of Elegance, for a fiver!" + +But they were not on the Bank of Elegance. Mr Coventry fancied that he +knew a genuine bank-note when he saw one. After examination, he +concluded that if these were forgeries, then he was not so good a +judge as he thought he was. He took a five-pound note from his +pocket-book for the purpose of comparison. + +"Right uns, as I'm a sinner! Then, in that case, it strikes me they've +been sent to the wrong address." + +In his desire to establish the genuineness of the notes, he had +temporarily overlooked a sheet of paper which he had drawn with them +from the envelope. This he now examined. It was a single sheet of +large post. On it these words were typewritten,-- + + +"The accompanying bank-notes (£10,000) are forwarded to Mr George +Coventry, to enable him to pay the losses which he has experienced +during the Brighton races." + + +When Mr Coventry read this, his bewilderment, instead of being +diminished, was considerably increased. There was no signature, no +address, no clue to the sender. One type-writer is like another, so +that there was no clue in the words themselves. Someone, of infinite +faith, had entrusted £10,000 to the guardianship of a flimsy envelope +and of a penny stamp. Mr Coventry had flattered himself that no one +knew--as yet--of the particularly tight place that he was in. Here was +proof positive that he had been guilty of self-deception indeed. + +He stuffed the notes into his pocket-book. He put on his hat. He went +across the road to the pier. He had a problem to solve. Who had chosen +so curious a method of sending him so princely a gift? He was prepared +to stake his little all--that was left--that it was none of his +relations. If the donor was one of his "friends," how basely had he +libelled the large and miscellaneous circle of his acquaintances! And +yet, a stranger? It would needs be an eccentric stranger who would +send an anonymous gift of £10,000 to an unknown person, to enable that +unknown person to pay his bets. This thing might have happened in the +days of the fairies, but surely the wee folk are gone! + +"Would--would you lend me your arm? I--I am afraid I have hurt my +foot." + +Mr Coventry was standing at the head of the flight of steps which led +to the landing-stage. The Worthing boat was just gone. There was a +crowd of people to see it start. Although he was one of them, Mr +Coventry had not the faintest appreciation of what the small +excitement was about. The sound of a voice apparently addressing him +recalled him to himself. He looked down. On the step immediately +beneath him was a little woman dressed in black. + +"I--I beg your pardon? Did you speak to me?" + +"Would you help me to a seat? I have twisted my ankle." + +The little woman was young. Her big brown eyes seemed to Mr Coventry +as though they were filled with tears. She was leaning against the +rail. She seemed in pain. + +"Let me carry you to a seat." + +Then, before all the people, in that impetuous way of his, he lifted +her in his arms and bore her to a seat. She said nothing when he +placed her there. Perhaps she was too surprised at his method of +proceeding to be able to find, at an instant's notice, appropriate +words to fit the occasion. + +"I'll fetch you a bath-chair." + +He fetched her one with a rapidity which did credit to his agility and +to the chairman's. The little woman was placed within it. She murmured +an address in the Steyne. The procession started. Mr Coventry walked +beside the chair. He asked if her foot was better. She said it was. He +asked if she was sure it was. She smiled, a little faintly, but still +she smiled; she said that she was sure. The Steyne was reached. He saw +her enter the house. He raised his hat. He walked away. + +It was only when he had gone some little distance that a thought +occurred to him. + +"I ought to have asked her her name." + +He hesitated for a moment as to whether he would not go back and +supply the omission; but he perceived, on reflection, that this would +be absurd. He told himself that he would call, perhaps that afternoon, +and inquire how her foot went on. + +That afternoon he called at the house in the Steyne. A person, +evidently of the landlady type, opened the door. He handed in his card +with, pencilled on it, the words: "I venture to hope that your foot is +better." A reply came to the effect that he was requested to walk +upstairs. He walked upstairs. He was shown into what was undeniably a +lodging-house sitting-room. As he entered, someone was lying on a +sofa; it was the little woman in black. + +"It is very kind of you to call, Mr Coventry. I ought to have thanked +you for your goodness to me this morning, but you were gone in a +moment." + +Mr Coventry murmured something. He hoped that her foot was better. + +"Oh, it is nothing. Only I think that I had better rest it a little, +and that is rather a difficult thing for me to do; rest means +interference with my work." Perhaps because he seemed to hesitate, she +added: "I am a teacher of music." + +"Then I am afraid that your accident will be hard on your pupils." + +She laughed. "The worst of it is, there are not many of them. I cannot +afford to offend the few I have." She changed her tone. "I cannot +think how it was I was so awkward, Mr Coventry. I was coming up the +steps when my foot slipped, and--there I was. It was such a silly +thing to do." + +Mr Coventry explained that it was the easiest thing in the world to +twist one's ankle. Further, that a twisted ankle sometimes turned out +to be a serious matter. Possibly the lady knew this without his +telling her, yet she seemed grateful for the information. + +The gentleman's visit, considering the circumstances, extended to what +seemed to be an unnecessary length, yet neither appeared particularly +desirous to bring it to a close. Before they parted they were talking +like old friends. She had told him that her name was Hardy--Dora +Hardy. She had imparted the further information that she was an +orphan--alone in the world. They talked a great deal about, it must be +owned, a very little, and they would probably have had as much to say +even if the subject matter had been still less. Such conversations are +not dependent upon subjects. + +The next day he returned to inquire after her foot. It seemed better, +but was not yet quite recovered; its owner was still upon the couch. +That visit was even longer than the first had been. During its +progress Mr Coventry became singularly frank. He actually made a +confidant of the little woman on the couch. He told her all his +history, unfolded the list of his follies--a part of it that is, for +the list was long. Some folks would have said that he was adding to +the crowning folly of them all. He told her of his recent disastrous +speculations on what, doubtless in the cause of euphony, is called +"the turf." He even told of the ten thousand pounds! + +It must be allowed that Miss Hardy seemed to find the young +gentleman's egotistical outpourings not devoid of interest. When he +spoke of the contents of the mysterious envelope she gave quite a +little start. + +"I don't understand. Do you mean to say, Mr Coventry, that yesterday +morning you received £10,000 from a stranger?" + +"I do. In ten bank-notes of a thousand pounds each." + +"But it's ridiculous. They can't be genuine." + +"Aren't they? See for yourself. If they're not, then I never saw a +genuine bank-note yet." + +He took an envelope from his pocket. He gave it to Miss Hardy. + +"Is this the envelope in which they came?" + +"It is." + +"And are these the bank-notes?" + +"They are." + +She took out the rustling pieces of paper. Her eyes sparkled. She +laughed; it sounded like a little laugh of pleasure. + +"Bank-notes! Ten of them, for a thousand each! You beauties!" She +pressed them between her little hands. "Think of all they can buy. Ten +thousand pounds!" She laughed again; this time in her laughter there +was the sound of something very like a sob. "Why, Mr Coventry, +it's--it's like a fairy tale. Some people never dream that they will +be able to even handle such a sum--just once." + +"It is a queer start." + +Mr Coventry rose from his chair. He stood with his back to the +fireplace. The little woman followed him with her eyes. + +"Come, Mr Coventry, you know very well from whom they came." + +"I wish I did." + +"Think! They came from that rich old uncle you have been telling me +about." + +"He would see me starve before he gave me a fiver. I know it is a +fact." + +"Is there nobody of whom you can think?" + +"Not a soul! I don't believe there's an individual in the world who +would give me a hundred pounds to keep me from the workhouse." + +There was a pause. The gentleman looked at the lady; the lady looked +at him. She kept folding and unfolding the notes between her dainty +fingers; a smile parted her lips. + +"Mr Coventry, I know from whom they came." + +"Miss Hardy, you don't mean it! From whom?" + +"They came," with a rapid glance she looked down, then up again, "from +a woman." + +"A woman!" Mr Coventry looked considerably startled. "What woman?" + +"Ah, there it is!" + +Mr Coventry still looked startled. + +"I suppose, Miss Hardy, you are simply making a shot at it." + +"It looks to me like the act of a woman. Think! Is there a woman +possible?" + +Mr Coventry looked even disconcerted. + +"It--it can't be. It--it's quite impossible." + +"I thought there was. Mr Coventry, here are your notes. I don't wish +to intrude upon your confidence." + +"But, I--I assure you, the--thing can't be." + +"Still, I fancy, the thing is, and so, I see, do you. Mr Coventry, if +it is not stretching feminine curiosity too far--in my case you have +piqued it--might I ask who is the woman?" + +"There isn't one; I assure you there isn't. But I'll tell you all +about it." Mr Coventry fidgeted about the room, then sat down on the +chair he had just vacated. "Have--have you ever heard of a Mrs +Murphy?" + +"Had she anything to do with Mr Murphy?" + +"You mean the iron man? It's his widow. She's--she's stopping at the +Métropole just now." + +"Isn't she rich?" + +"Awfully, horribly rich. In fact my--my uncle wrote to me about her." + +"You mean Sir Frederick?" + +"Yes, old rip! I wrote, asking if he could let me have a few hundreds, +just to help me along. He wrote back saying that he couldn't, but that +he could put me in the way of laying my hands on several hundred +thousands instead. Then he spoke of the widow." + +"I see; go on." + +Mr Coventry had stopped. He seemed to be a little at a loss. + +"Then, somehow or other, I--I got introduced to her." + +"Did you, indeed? How strange!" + +"Don't laugh at me, Miss Hardy. The woman's my aversion. She's old +enough to be my mother, or--or my aunt, at any rate." + +"One's aunt may be younger than oneself." + +"She isn't, by a deal. She's a hideous, vulgar old monstrosity." + +"You appear to have a strong objection to the lady." + +"I have. It--it sounds absurd, but she's always after me. She must +mistake me for her son." + +"For her son? You look twenty-five, and I thought I saw in one of the +papers the other day that Mrs Murphy was in her early thirties." + +"She looks fifty, if a day. She can't have sent me all that money." + +"As to that, you should know better than I. She might, if she took you +for her son." + +"If I thought she had, I--I'd send it back to her." + +Mr Coventry had recommenced fidgeting about the room. Miss Hardy's +suggestions seemed to have seriously disturbed him. That young lady +continued to trifle with the bank-notes. As she trifled she continued +to smile demurely. + +"Hasn't another rich woman been stopping at the Métropole?" + +"You mean the American?" + +"Was she an American?" + +"Rather! Sarah Freemantle. Got five millions--pounds--of her own, in +hard cash." + +"Has she been stopping at the hotel since you've been there?" + +"I believe she has, though I wasn't aware of it till she had gone." + +"Haven't you ever seen her?" + +"Never; which is rather queer, because she's often been at dances +which I've been at. But I hate Americans." + +"Do you, indeed? How liberal-minded!" + +"Don't laugh at me. You--you don't know how worried I am." + +"Some people wouldn't feel worried because £10,000 fell into their lap +from the skies. Here, Mr Coventry, are your precious notes." + +"I'll send them back to her at once." + +"Her? Whom? Mrs Murphy? Don't you think you are rather hasty in +jumping at conclusions? Suppose, after all, they didn't come from Mrs +Murphy?" + +"I'll soon find out, and if they did--" + +"Well, if they did? I thought you mentioned some rather pressing +obligations which you had to meet." + +"Confound it! I know I've been a fool, but I'd rather be posted than +owe my salvation to a woman's money." + +"All men are not of your opinion, Mr Coventry." + +The lady's tone was dry. The young gentleman had a tendency in the +direction of "high-falutin." + +Among his morning's letters on the morrow the first which caught his +eye was a missive enclosed in an envelope which was own brother to the +one which had contained the notes. + +"Another ten thousand pounds," he wailed. + +But he was mistaken. Only a sheet of paper was in the envelope. On the +sheet of paper two words were type-written: + +"Buy Ceruleans." + +Mr Coventry endeavoured to calm himself. Constitutionally, he was of +an excitable temperament. The endeavour required an effort on his +part. When he could trust himself to speak, he delivered himself to +this effect: + +"What in thunder are Ceruleans? And why am I to buy them?" + +He examined the paper; he examined the envelope; he observed that the +postmark was "London, E.C."--that could scarcely be regarded as a +tangible clue. + +The remainder of his correspondence was not of an agreeable tenor. +Everybody seemed to be wanting money; moreover, everybody seemed to be +wanting it at once. He went downstairs with, metaphorically, "his +heart in his boots." On the way down he encountered an acquaintance. +Mr Coventry stopped him. + +"I say, Gainsford, what are Ceruleans?" + +"Ceruleans?" Mr Gainsford fixed his eyeglass into his eye. +"Ceruleans?" Mr Gainsford thrust his hands into his breeches pockets. +"What do you know about Ceruleans?" + +"I don't know anything, only some fool or other has been advising me +to buy them." + +Mr Gainsford eyed Mr Coventry for some moments before he spoke again. + +"Coventry, would you mind stepping into my sitting-room?" Mr Coventry +stepped in. "I should be obliged if you would tell me who has been +advising you to buy Ceruleans. I give you my word that you shall not +suffer through giving me the name of your informant. I don't know if +you are aware that I am a member of the London Stock Exchange." + +"I can't give you the name of my informant, because I don't know it +myself. I have just had that sent me through the post. From whom it +comes I know no more than Adam." + +Mr Coventry handed him the paper on which were the two type-written +words, "Buy Ceruleans." Mr Gainsford eyed this very keenly. Then he +applied an equally keen scrutiny to Mr Coventry himself. + +"Odd! Very odd! Very odd indeed!" + +He paused, then continued with an air of quite judicial gravity,-- + +"Ceruleans, Mr Coventry, is Stock Exchange slang for an American mine +which has just struck oil. The fact of its having done so is known, as +yet, in England, to only one or two persons. Until you showed me that +sheet of paper, I was under the impression that it was known only to +one other person beside myself. Whoever sent you that piece of paper +is in the know. Your correspondent has given you a recipe for a +fortune." + +"What do you mean?" + +"What I say. Get into the market before the rush begins, and--ah! you +might take what some people would call a snug little fortune in less +than a couple of hours. Mr Coventry, I am going up to town at once. +Come with me, and I will put you in the way of doing the best day's +business that ever you did in all your life." + +Mr Coventry went up to town with Mr Gainsford. When the young +gentleman returned that night to Brighton, he was quite a man of +means. On the return journey he just got into the station as the train +was starting. He made a dash at the first carriage he could reach. He +was settling himself in the corner, and the train was rapidly +quickening, when a voice saluted him. + +"Mr Coventry!" + +He turned. At the other end of the compartment was Mrs Murphy. + +"How nice! I was just thinking that I was going to have the carriage +all to myself, and you know that I am not fond of my own society." + +At that moment, Mr Coventry could not have even hinted that he was +fond of hers. The lady went on--her volubility was famous,-- + +"I have been dabbling on the Stock Exchange." + +Mr Coventry did not heed her. He was reflecting that the train did not +stop till it reached its journey's end, and how about a smoke on the +way? Her next words, however, caused him to prick up his ears. + +"I have done wonderfully well. In fact, I have made what to some, less +fortunately circumstanced than myself, would be quite a fortune. I +have been buying Ceruleans. Do you know what Ceruleans are?" + +Did he? Didn't he? + +"Ceruleans! Then--it was you--" + +He stopped, petrified. The lady seemed amused. + +"It was I what?" + +Mr Coventry took out a well-stuffed pocketbook. + +"Mrs Murphy, allow me to return you these." + +A broad smile was upon the lady's face as she took what the gentleman +gave her; but when she perceived what it was she held, the broad smile +vanished. + +"What is it you are returning me? I was not aware--why, they're +bank-notes for a thousand pounds each! Mr Coventry! What do you mean?" + +The expression of her face, the tone of her voice, were alike +expressive of the most unequivocal amazement. But, disregarding these +signs, Mr Coventry pursued a line of his own. + +"It was very good of you to send them me--though I hardly realise what +it was which could have caused you to suppose that I was a fit subject +for your charity. At the same time, I hope it is scarcely necessary +for me to point out that it is quite impossible for me to take +advantage of your generosity." + +"Mr Coventry! What on earth do you mean?" + +The lady's manner was altogether unmistakable, but Mr Coventry rushed +at his fences. + +"I can only say that I hope that you will find a more worthy object of +what I cannot but call your eccentric liberality." + +Mrs Murphy, as she sat, bank-notes in hand, endeavouring to grasp the +gentleman's meaning, would not have made a bad study for a comic +artist. + +"Mr Coventry, will you be so good as to take back your property?" + +The lady held out the notes. The gentleman waved them from him. + +"My property! I presume you mean your property?" + +"Mr Coventry, what do you mean by giving me these bank-notes?" + +"Rather, Mrs Murphy, I think I am entitled to ask what you meant by +giving them to me?" + +"Pray, Mr Coventry, are you mad?" + +"I can only presume that you thought I was mad." + +"Thought you were mad! I am beginning to think so now." + +"You flatter me. And--then there's the tip for Ceruleans. I--I confess +that I have taken advantage of it; but had I known what I know now, I +would sooner first have died. I have not yet received the whole of my +gains--indeed, I have only received a portion as a favour from a +friend. Here, Mrs Murphy, is a cheque for £5,000." + +Mr Coventry thrust another slip of paper into the astonished lady's +hand. She kept her presence of mind admirably upon the whole. + +"I suppose, Mr Coventry, that you are a gentleman?" + +"I suppose I was until you taught me otherwise." + +"Then, as a gentleman, perhaps you will keep silence while a lady +speaks." + +Mr Coventry shrugged his shoulders. + +"I see that I have here ten notes of a thousand pounds each. Am I to +understand that someone has made you a present of £10,000?" + +"Mrs Murphy, pray don't dissemble!" + +"I have not the slightest intention of what you call dissembling. If +you suppose I was the donor, you are under a great delusion. I don't +think I ever gave any living creature even ten thousand pence; I have +far too just a sense of the value of money." + +It was Mr Coventry's turn to look astonished. + +"Then if--if it wasn't you--" + +"Who was it? That I cannot tell you. Someone, I should say, with more +money than sense." + +"But--but the tip for Ceruleans?" + +"I have not the least notion what you're talking about. But I may tell +you this: I myself only received what you call a 'tip' for Ceruleans +this morning." + +"The--the deuce you did!" + +"Possibly you are aware that one of the chief holders of Ceruleans is +a lady?" + +"A lady!" + +"That lady happens to be my friend. This morning she called on me +while I was having breakfast. During that call she gave me the +information on which I acted." + +"Who--who is this lady?" + +"I don't know that it is a secret; the lady is Sarah Freemantle." + +"Sarah Freemantle!" + +"She is staying in Brighton, you know--or perhaps you don't +know--because she has actually gone and hidden herself away in one of +the back streets, as if, as I tell her, she were hiding from her +creditors. Her creditors! Why, she's worth untold millions!" + +Mr Coventry was silent. Mrs Murphy sat and watched him. He was quite +worth looking at. George Coventry has been pronounced by a high +authority to be the handsomest man in England. Oddly enough, he was +not only handsome, but he looked good and honest too; and he was +without an atom of conceit. In the eyes of some people it was an extra +recommendation that he was not exactly wise. + +When Mrs Murphy had looked at the young gentleman quite two minutes, +she moved up to his end of the carriage. + +"Mr Coventry, here is your property. You are fortunate in having such +a friend." + +Without a word Mr Coventry placed the cheque and the notes within his +pocket-book. + +"After all, I am not sure that I would not have liked to have been +that friend myself." + +Mr Coventry fidgeted. + +"You--you are very good." + +"Do you think so? I should like to be good--to you." + +Mr Coventry shivered. Was this woman making love? + +"I married my first husband, Mr Coventry, to please my mother. When I +marry again I mean to please myself." + +"What--what time is this train due in Brighton?" + +"Never mind what time the train is due in Brighton." She smiled. + +Some men, who are about to pop the question, delight in the shyness of +the maiden. Was it possible that she delighted in the shyness of the +youth? + +"George--I may call you George. Mayn't I call you George?" + +"Have you any objection to my smoking a pipe?" + +"Smoke if you please. Do what you please. My only desire is to give +you pleasure." + +She laid her gloved hand softly on his arm. + +"You haven't such a thing as a match about you?" + +"George, before you begin to smoke, turn round and look at me." + +Mr Coventry's head was turned round the other way; he was blowing +through the stem of his pipe. + +"George!" + +If the lady had been a gentleman we should have written that he put +his arm about her waist. + +"Thunder! my pipe won't draw!" + +The gentleman sprang to his feet with startling suddenness; but the +lady was equal to the occasion. Before he knew it she had taken him +with both her hands, and drawn him on to her knee. + +"You silly thing!" + +While Mr Coventry was wondering if the skies had fallen, she had +kissed him on the lips. + +Just then the train reached Brighton. + + + CHAPTER II + +Mr Coventry chartered a fly to the Steyne. He drew up at the house in +which lived the little woman with the foot. The person who opened the +door informed him that Miss Hardy was in. He rushed upstairs without +waiting to be announced. The little woman was seated writing at a +table. At his entrance she rose with a start--as well she might. + +"Miss Hardy, I--I want to speak to you." + +"Mr Coventry." + +As the lady stood facing the gentleman she turned a little pale, or +perhaps it was a curious effect of the lamplight shining in her face. +As for the gentleman's complexion, any suggestion of pallor was +ridiculous. A ripe tomato was the best comparison which could have +been applied to him. + +"I beg ten thousand pardons, but I--I've been with that Murphy woman +in the train!" + +The girl said nothing. Her big brown eyes were fixed upon her +visitor's countenance. In them was a look of not unjustifiable +inquiry. + +"I--I daresay you think that I'm mad; but I'm not. The fact is, Miss +Hardy, I've had a stroke of luck!" + +"I am glad to hear it." + +"Is that all?" + +"What else would you have me say?" + +The intensity of the gaze which the gentleman kept fixed upon the lady +she must have found a little trying. All at once he went forward. He +brought his hand down heavily on the little table at which she was +standing. + +"Dora, I love you!" + +The remark was sudden. The girl for a moment was silent, as if she +could scarcely believe her ears. Then a wave of vivid red went up all +over her, so that it even dyed the roots of her hair. In her eyes were +tears. + +"Mr Coventry!" + +"Dora, I love you!" If she had had eyes to see, which may be doubted, +she might have seen that he was trembling. His words came from him +like a flood. "I don't ask you to say that you love me; I know you +can't; but I do ask you to say that one day you will try!" + +The girl was trembling too. + +"Mr Coventry, I--I cannot think you are in earnest." + +"You know I am." + +As she looked into his eyes--and she did look, as though there was +fascination in his glance--she could scarcely doubt that at least he +thought he was. She tried to smile; the effort was a failure. + +"But it's--it's so absurd. You know nothing of me. We are strangers. +You only saw me the day before yesterday for the first time in your +life." + +"What does that matter? I know a man who met a girl upon the Friday +and married her upon the Monday." + +"Absurd!" + +"Some men would be able to do this sort of thing in style; I can't. I +know that this sort of thing comes to a man once in his life, and then +in an instant. I know that I love you; I know that there will never be +another woman to me like you. Some men do not take long to find out +these things, you see!" + +There was a pause. Then she at last looked down. + +"I thought you mentioned something about pecuniary complications." + +"This morning I had a hint from a friend; it has brought me in a +fortune! There will be enough to settle up with, and something over to +start again. And, Dora, I can work." + +"Mr Coventry, do you clearly understand that I am a nameless nobody, +who has to give music lessons for a living?" + +"I understand that you are the woman whom I love!" + +She turned her back to him. She moved across the room; she stood +trifling with the fringe of the curtains. + +"This is the maddest thing of which ever yet I heard." + +He could hear that her voice was trembling. + +"You know, Dora, I'm not asking you to say at once that you will be my +wife. I daren't, and that's the fact; but I'm asking you one day to +try to say you will. I want something to keep me going. I want +something to save me from that woman Murphy." + +"I believe 'that woman Murphy,' as you politely term the lady, is at +the bottom of the compliment--I suppose I must call it so--which you +have paid to me." + +There was a curious intonation in the voice from the curtains. + +"She has been making love to me. I couldn't stand that when I loved +you, Dora!" The gentleman was creeping round the table. "Say that you +will try!" + +"Suppose I do?" + +"Dora!" + + +She would not let him stay. They parted, this queer pair! He dined, +not at his hotel, but at a restaurant on the Front; dined well! When +he left it was with that good digestion which waits on appetite. He +walked as if he walked on air. He certainly had the gift of making +history quickly. + +When he reached the hotel, an acquaintance stopped him at the door. + +"The great Sarah is here." + +"The great who?" + +"Sarah! Miss Freemantle! The five-times millionaire." + +Mr Coventry looked a trifle bored. + +"I'm not interested in the lady." + +"The deuce you aren't! I am; and, by Jove, I wish she were in me!" + +"I'm sorry for you. Come in and have a smoke." + +As they crossed the hall, someone was coming down the stairs. The +acquaintance drew Mr Coventry a little aside. + +"Here she is!" Mr Coventry glanced up. "That's Miss Freemantle, the +little woman in black. She's not a bad-looking little thing." + +Mr Coventry looked at the lady referred to. It was Dora Hardy! As she +descended the staircase, she leant on Mr Gainsford's arm. On the +gentleman's other side was Mrs Murphy. As he saw her, she saw him. The +young lady dropped the gentleman's arm. She ran down the stairs with +her hand stretched out. + +"Mr Coventry!" + +"Dora!" + +She laughed--and blushed. She turned to her companions. + +"I don't think I need trouble you after all, Mr Coventry will see me +home." + +Before Mr Coventry had realised the situation he found himself in the +open air with the lady. They turned, perhaps instinctively, towards +Hove. It happened, that night, that that part of the Front was almost +deserted. They walked some little distance before the gentleman +recovered the use of his tongue. + +"Dora--what--what cock-and-bull story was that fool telling me?" + +"I really cannot say." + +"He--he said that you--you were the great Sarah." + +"So I am. Don't I look it?" + +The gentleman stopped dead. He groaned. + +"What--what a fool I've been!" + +"You flatter me." + +They resumed their promenade. Her hand stole towards his. + +"George, are you sorry you said you loved me?" + +"Dora, is--is it a joke?" + +"No, George, it's not a joke, it's a romance." + +"What--what have I done?" + +"Made me happy. Isn't that enough to do?" + +They stopped again, under a gas-lamp. It was fortunate so few persons +were about. + +"George, I have a confession to make. It was not you who fell in love +with me, it was I who fell in love with you." + +"Dora!" + +"It is true. It was at Lady Brentford's ball. I saw you there for the +first time. I fell in love with you--at sight. You see, when your turn +came, you did not make up your mind more rapidly than I had done. It +was a case of Goethe's mutual affinity! I saw you at other houses. I +went to them on purpose to see you, but I took care never to be +introduced to you." + +"Why?" + +"You know that I am the great Sarah, George. But when I found that you +had come to the very hotel at which I was stopping, I formed a little +plot. I changed my quarters, I dropped the Freemantle, and became Miss +Hardy. Then--_then_ I thrust myself right into your path, and--and it +was all soon over. Are you sorry, George?" + +"Sorry! But--but about those notes?" + +"You goose! They came from me. I knew you had been betting, and I knew +that you had lost. I didn't want to lose you for a pound or two. But +when you told me that you would not owe your salvation to a woman's +money--not knowing who the woman was--why, then I sent you the 'tip' +for Ceruleans instead. It was the best thing that I ever did, for it +brought me you." + +Mr Coventry took off his hat. He wiped his brow. He seemed to be +turning matters over in his mind. + +"I shall always call you Dora." + +"Call me what you please." + +"Darling!" + + + + + XII + + MAGICAL MUSIC + + + CHAPTER I--APOSTLE SPOONS + +Miss Macleod passed the newspaper to her nephew. "Look at that," she +said. She had her finger on an advertisement. He looked at it. This is +what he read:-- + +"A clergyman, having a large family entirely dependent on him, is +compelled to sacrifice a unique set of apostle spoons. Twelve large, +twelve small, silver-gilt, in handsome case. Being in urgent want of +money, a trifle will be accepted. Quite new. Would make a handsome +present. Approval willingly. Letters only, Pomona Villa, Ladbroke +Grove, W." + +"What do you think of it?" inquired the lady. + +The Rev. Alan smoothed the paper with his hand. + +"Not much," he ventured to remark. + +"Put on your hat and come with me. I'm going to buy them." + +"My dear aunt!" + +"They will do for a wedding present for Clara Leach. Other people can +marry, if you can't." + +The Rev. Alan sighed. He had been having a bad quarter of an hour. He +was a little, freckled, sandy-haired, short-sighted man: one of those +short-sighted men whose spectacles require continually settling in +their place on the bridge of the nose. Such as he was, he was the only +hope of an ancient race--the only male hope, that is. + +The Macleods of Pittenquhair predated the first of the Scottish kings. +Fortunately for themselves they postdated them as well. + +For a considerable portion of their history, the members of that +time-honoured family had been compelled, in the Sidney-Smithian +phrase, to cultivate their greatness on a little oatmeal--for want of +cash to enable them to indulge in any other form of cultivation. But +in these latter days they had grown rich, owing to a fortunate +matrimonial speculation with a Chicago young lady whose father had +something to do with hogs. The lady's name was Biggins--Cornelia P. +Biggins--the P. stood for Pollie, which was her mother's name, the +"front" name came from history. The particular Macleod who had married +her had been christened David. He devoted a considerable portion of +his wife's fortune to buying up the ancient lands of the Macleods, in +the neighbourhood of Pittenquhair and thereabouts. In his person he +resolved that the ancient family glories should reappear--and more. +But in these cases it is notorious that man only proposes--his wife +never bore him a child. To make matters worse, he only outlived Mrs +Macleod six months, so that he never had a decent chance to try his +luck again. + +David had a brother. Being a childless man, and desirous to restore +the ancestral grandeur, one would have thought that he would have left +his wealth to his brother, who wanted it if ever a man did yet. But, +unfortunately, Alan was not only an irredeemable scamp--which might +have been forgiven him, for David was by no means spotless--but also +the two brothers hated each other with a truly enduring brotherly +hatred. Nor had Alan improved matters by making public and unpleasant +allusions to hogs and swine, not only on the occasion of David's +marriage, but on many occasions afterwards. So it came to pass that +when David was gathered to his fathers, his brother's name was not +even mentioned in his will. All his wealth was left to his sister +Janet. + +In course of time Alan died abroad--very much abroad, and in more +senses than one. Then, for the first time, Janet appeared upon the +scene. She paid for her brother's funeral, and took his only child, a +boy, back with her to England. The child's mother, who was nothing +and nobody, had died--charitable people said, murdered by her +husband--soon after her infant's birth. So his aunt was the only +relation the youngster had. + +Janet was a spinster. She had ideas of her own, and plenty of them. +Her dominant idea was that in her nephew the family sun should rise +again in splendour. But alas for the perversity of fate! The boy +passed from a public school to the university, and from the +university--after a struggle, in which he showed himself, in a +lymphatic sort of way, as obstinate as one of Mrs David's father's +pigs--into the church. This was bad enough for a son of his father, +and the heir to Pittenquhair and ten thousand pounds a year, but what +followed was infinitely worse. He became a ritualist of the +ritualists--more Roman than the Romans--and the motto which he nailed +to the mast was "Celibacy of the clergy"! + +Her nephew's conduct almost drove Miss Janet mad. Two wives she might +have forgiven--but none! In season and out of season she preached to +him the duty of marriage; but what she regarded as a duty he regarded +as a crime. She spoke of an heir for Pittenquhair; his thoughts were +of something very different indeed. To speak of disinheriting him was +to pander to his tastes. The income from his curacy was seventy pounds +a year--and he lived on it. The money sent him by his aunt he +surrendered to the Church and to the poor. What availed it to preach +of disinheritance to a man who behaved like that? + +And yet, in his own peculiar way, he was a good nephew to his aunt. He +was the meekest, ugliest, shyest, awkwardest of men. His curacy was at +a place on the Suffolk coast called Swaffham-on-Sea. From these +wilds he was perpetually being summoned by his aunt to attend on her +in her house in town. Although--possibly because he was that kind of +man--these visits were anything but occasions of pleasure, he +generally obeyed the summons. On the present occasion it was the +second day of his stay under his aunt's hospitable roof in Cadogan +Place. From the moment of his arrival she had continually reviled him. +She had suggested as wives some two-score eligible young women, from +earls' daughters to confectioners' assistants. She had arrived at that +state of mind in which, if he would only marry, she would have +welcomed a cook. In his awkward, stammering way, he had vetoed them +all. Then she had rated him for an hour and three-quarters by the +clock. Finally, exhausted by her efforts, she had caught up the paper +in a rage. The Rev. Alan watched her in silence as she read it, +fingering a little book of prayers he had in his waistcoat pocket. + +All at once she had thrust the advertisement sheet of the paper +underneath his nose, with the exclamation-- + +"Look at that!" + +He looked at it, and had read the advertisement reproduced above. + +"Don't sit there like a stuck dummy," observed Miss Macleod, whose +English, in her moments of excitement, was more than peculiar. "Go and +get the thing that you call a hat! Hat!" Miss Macleod sniffed; "if you +had appeared in the streets in _my_ days with such a thing on your +head, people would have thought that Guy Fawkes's day was come again." + +The Rev. Alan was still studying the paper. + +"But, my dear aunt, you are not seriously thinking of paying any +attention to such an advertisement as that?" + +"And why not? Isn't the man a clergyman?" + +"I can't think that a priest--" + +"A priest!" cried Miss Macleod, to whom the word was as a red rag to a +bull. "Who spoke about a priest?" + +The Rev. Alan went placidly on-- + +"--under any circumstances would advertise apostle spoons for sale." + +"Who asks you what you think? Put on your hat and come with me." + +"There is another point. The advertisement says 'letters only'; there +is evidently an objection to a personal call." + +As Miss Macleod grasped her nephew by the shoulder with a sufficiently +muscular grasp, the Rev. Alan put on his hat and went with her. + + + CHAPTER II--UNDER THE SPELL + +They walked all the way--it is some distance from Cadogan Place to +Ladbroke Grove. There was not much conversation--what there was was +not of a particularly cheerful kind. The day was warm. The lady was +tall, the gentleman short. Miss Macleod was a first-rate pedestrian; +the Rev. Alan was not good at any kind of exercise. By the time they +reached their journey's end he was in quite a pitiable plight. He was +bedewed with perspiration, and agitated beyond measure by the rather +better than four miles-an-hour pace which his aunt would persist in +keeping up. + +Pomona Villa proved to be a little house which stood back at some +distance from the road. Just as they reached it the door was opened, +shut again with a bang, and a gentleman came hastening out of the +house as though he were pressed for time. He was a tall, portly +person, with very red whiskers, and a complexion which was even more +vivid than his whiskers. He was attired in what might be called +recollections of clerical costume, and was without a hat. He appeared +to be very much distressed either in body or in mind. Just as he laid +his hand on the handle on one side of the gate, Miss Macleod grasped +it on the other. Brought in this way unexpectedly face to face, he +stared at the lady, and the lady stared at him. + +"She's at it again!" he cried. + +"Sir!" exclaimed Miss Macleod. She drew herself up. + +"I beg your pardon." The gentleman on the other side of the gate +produced a very dirty pocket-handkerchief, and mopped his head and +face with it. "I thought it was a friend of mine." + +"Is this Pomona Villa?" asked Miss Macleod. + +The bare-headed man looked up and down, and round about, and seemed as +though he were more than half disposed to say it wasn't. But as the +name was painted over the top bar of the wooden gate, within twelve +inches of the lady's nose, he perhaps deemed it wiser to dissemble. + +"What--what name?" he stammered. + +"I've come about the apostle spoons." + +"The apostle spoons! Oh!" The bare-headed man looked blank. He added +in a sort of stage aside--"Letters only." + +"Perhaps you will allow me to enter." + +Miss Macleod did not wait for the required permission, but pushed +the gate open, and entered. Her nephew followed at her heels. The +bare-headed man stared at the Rev. Alan, and the Rev. Alan at +him--one seemed quite as confused as the other. + +"Can I see the spoons?" continued Miss Macleod. + +"Eh--the fact is--eh--owing to distressing family +circumstances--eh--it is impossible--" + +What was impossible will never be known, for at that moment the door +was opened, and a woman appeared. + +"If you please, mum, Miss Vesey says, will you walk in? She's +upstairs." + +Miss Macleod walked in, her nephew always at her heels. The +bare-headed man stared after them, as though he did not understand +this mode of procedure in the least. + +"Up the stairs, first door to the right," continued the woman who had +bade them enter. As, in accordance with these directions, Miss Macleod +proceeded to mount the stairs, the woman, who still stood at the open +door, addressed herself to the bare-headed man at the gate. Her words +were sufficiently audible. + +"You brute!" she said, and banged the door in his face. + +Seemingly unconscious of there being anything peculiar about the house +or its inhabitants, Miss Macleod strode up the stairs. The Rev. Alan, +conscious for himself and his aunt as well, crept uncomfortably after. +The first door on the right stood wide open. Miss Macleod +unceremoniously entered the room. Her nephew followed sheepishly in +the rear. + +The room was a good-sized one, and was scantily furnished. One +striking piece of furniture, however, it did contain, and that was a +grand piano. At the moment of their entrance the instrument stood wide +open, and at the keyboard was seated a young lady. + +"I am Miss Vesey," she observed, without troubling herself to rise as +the visitors entered. + +Miss Macleod bowed. She appeared about to make some remark, possibly +with reference to the apostle spoons; but before she could speak, Miss +Vesey went on,-- + +"That is my father you saw outside--the Rev. George Vesey. He's a +dipsomaniac." + +Miss Macleod started, which, under the circumstances, was not +unnatural. Her nephew stared with all his eyes and spectacles. Miss +Vesey was a fine young woman, about nineteen years of age. The most +prominent feature in her really intellectual countenance was a pair of +large and radiant black eyes. + +"I'm engaged in his cure," she added. + +"I have called," remarked Miss Macleod, perhaps deeming it wiser to +ignore the young lady's candid allusion to her father's weakness, +"with reference to an advertisement about some apostle spoons." + +Miss Vesey, still seated on the music-stool, clasped her hands behind +her head. + +"Oh, that's one of his swindles," she said. + +"One of his swindles!" echoed Miss Macleod. + +"He's agent for a Birmingham firm. He finds it a good dodge to put in +advertisements like that. Each person who buys thinks she gets the +only set he has to sell; but he sells dozens every week. It's drink +has brought him to it. But I'm engaged in curing him all round. The +worst of it is that when I begin to cure him, he runs away. He was +just going to run away when you came to the gate." + +"If what you say is correct," said Miss Macleod grimly, "I should say +the case was incurable--save by the police." + +"Ah, that's because you don't understand my means of cure: I'm a +magician." + +"A magician!" + +There was a pause. Miss Macleod eyed Miss Vesey keenly, Miss Vesey +returning the compliment by eyeing her. + +Miss Macleod was a woman of the day. Openly expressing unbelief in all +the faiths that are old, she was continually on the look-out for a +faith that was new. She had tried spiritualism and theosophy. She had +sworn by all sorts of rogues and humbugs--until she found them out to +be rogues and humbugs, which, to her credit be it said, it did not +take her long to do. Just at that moment she was without a fetish. So +that when Miss Vesey calmly announced that she was a magician, she did +not do what, for instance, that very much more weak-minded person than +herself, her nephew, would have done--she did not promptly laugh her +to scorn. + +"What do you mean by saying you're a magician?" she inquired. + +"I mean what I say. I have my magic here." + +Miss Vesey laid her hand on the piano. + +"I suppose you mean that you're a fine pianist." + +"More than that. With my music I can do with men and women what I +will. I can drive the desire for drink out of my father for days +together; I can make him keep sober against his will." + +Miss Macleod turned towards her nephew. + +"This is my nephew. Exercise your power upon him." + +"Aunt!" cried the Rev. Alan. + +Miss Vesey laughed. + +"Shall I?" she asked. + +"You have my permission. You say you can do with men and women what +you will. He will be a rich man one of these fine days. Make him marry +you." + +The curate's distress was piteous. + +"Aunt! Have you any sense of shame?" + +"Suppose I try," observed Miss Vesey, her face alive with laughter. +"I'm sure I'm poor enough, and I'm already connected with the clergy." + +"Aunt, I entreat you, come away. If you will not come, then I must go +alone. I cannot stay to see the Church insulted." + +Miss Macleod turned to Miss Vesey. + +"Will you let him go?" + +"Certainly not," laughed the young lady. "If only to pay him out for +being so ungallant." + +The Rev. Alan--literally--wrung his hands. + +"This--this is intolerable. Aunt, it is impossible for me to stay. +You--you'll find me there when you get home." + +The Rev. Alan, in a state of quite indescribable confusion, turned +towards the door. But before he could move a step, Miss Vesey struck a +chord on the piano. + +"Stay!" she said. + +The curate seemed to hesitate for a moment, then turned to her again. +He seemed to be under the impression that he owed an apology to the +pianist. "I--I must apologise for--for my seeming rudeness. I know +that my--my aunt only meant what she said as--as a joke; but, at the +same time, my respect for my sacred office"--at this point the little +man drew himself up--"compels me, after what has passed, to go." + +Miss Vesey struck a second chord. + +"Stay!" she said again. + +Before the agitated believer in the propriety of the unmarried state +for clergymen could say her yea or nay, she cast her spells--and her +hands--upon the keyboard of the instrument, so that it burst out into +a concourse of sweet sounds. The Rev. Alan was, in his way a born +musician. The only dissipation he allowed himself was music. The soul +of the mean-looking, wrong-headed little man was attuned to harmony. +Good music had on him the effect which Orpheus with his lute had on +more stubborn materials than curates--it bewitched him. Miss Vesey had +not played ten seconds before he realised that here was a dispenser of +the food which his soul loved--a mistress of melody. What it was she +played he did not know--it seemed to him an improvisation. He stood +listening--entranced. Suddenly the musician's mood changed. The notes +of triumph ceased, and there came instead a strain of languorous music +which set all the curate's pulses throbbing. + +"Come here!" + +Miss Vesey whispered. The curate settled his spectacles upon his nose. +He looked around him as though he were not sure that he had heard +aright. And the command was uttered in such half-tones that he might +be excused for supposing that his ears had played him false. + +"Come here!" + +The command again. Again the Rev. Alan settled his spectacles upon his +nose. He gazed at the musician as if still in doubt. + +"I--I beg your pardon? Did you speak to me?" + +"Come here!" + +A third time the command--this time clearer and louder too. As if +unconsciously he advanced towards the pianist, hat in one hand, +handkerchief in another, his whole bearing eloquent of a state of +mental indecision. He went quite close to her--so close that there +would be no excuse for saying that he could not hear her if she +whispered again. + +Again the musician's theme was changed. The languorous melody faded. +There came a succession of wild sounds, as of souls in pain. The +curate's organisation was a sensitive one--the cries were almost more +than he could bear. + +"Pity me!" + +The voice was corporal enough. It was Miss Vesey, once more indulging +in a whisper. Again the curate was at a nonplus. Again he went through +the mechanical action of settling his spectacles upon his nose. + +"I--I beg your pardon?" It seemed to be a stereotyped form of words +with him. + +"Pity me! Pity me! Do!" + +The words were a cry of anguish--quite as anguished as the music was. +The Rev. Alan looked round the room, perhaps for succour and relief. +He saw his aunt, but at that moment her face happened to be turned +another way. + +"If you need my pity, it is yours." + +The words, like the lady's, were spoken, doubtless unintentionally, in +a whisper. + +"If you pity me, then help me too!" + +"If I can, I--I will!" + +"You promise?" + +"Certainly." + +Although the word was a tolerably bold one, it was by no means boldly +spoken; probably that was owing to the state of confusion existing in +the speaker's mind. + +The theme was changed again. The piano ceased to wail. A tumult of +sound came from it which was positively deafening. The effect was most +bewildering, especially as it concerned the Rev. Alan. For in the +midst of all the tumult he was conscious of these words being +addressed to him by Miss Vesey. + +"Help me with your love!" + +The instant the words were spoken the tumult died away, there was the +languorous strain again. The curate was speechless, which, all things +considered, was perhaps excusable. An idea was taking root in his +brain that the musician was mad, at least mad enough to be +irresponsible for the words she used. If that were so, then, unlike +the generality of lunatics, she had a curious aptitude for sticking to +the point. + +"Love me, or I die!" + +"My--my dear young lady!" stammered the curate. + +"You will be my murderer!" + +The accent with which these words were spoken was indescribable, as +indescribable as the music which accompanied them. It may be doubted +if, as he heard them, it was not the Rev. Alan himself who was going +mad. The heat and agitation brought on by the pace at which his aunt +had marched him from Cadogan Place, the extraordinary manner of his +reception at Pomona Villa, the still more extraordinary things which +had happened to him since he had got inside; all these, put together, +were quite enough to make him uncertain as to whether he were standing +on his head or his heels. And then, for him, a staunch believer in the +theory, and the practice, of the celibate priest, to have such +language addressed to him, after five minutes' acquaintance, by a +total stranger! and such a pianist! and a fine young woman! No wonder +the Rev. Alan put his hand up to his head under the impression that +that portion of his frame was leaving him. + +"If you do not marry me," continued this extraordinary young woman, in +tones which harrowed his heart--and yet which were not so harrowing as +her music, by a very great deal, "I shall die before your eyes." + +The Rev. Alan still had his hand to his head. He looked round him with +bewildered, short-sighted eyes. Curiously enough his aunt still had +her face turned in the opposite direction. + +"I--I'm sure--" he stammered. + +"Of what?" + +"I--I shall be happy--" + +"Happy!" + +The music ceased, and that for the sufficiently good reason that the +pianist rose from her seat and flung her arms about the curate's neck. +He said something, but what it was was lost in the ample expanses of +Miss Vesey's breast. + +"Madam," she cried, addressing Miss Macleod, "your nephew has promised +to marry me! He has said that he will be happy." + +Miss Macleod, who did not happen just then to be looking in the +opposite direction, smiled grimly. Owing to the peculiarity of her +physical configuration everything about her was grim--even her smile. + +"I am glad to hear it," she observed. + +The Rev. Alan struggled himself free from the lady's powerful embrace. +His distress was tragic in its intensity. + +"This--this is some extraordinary--" + +"Happiness!" cried the lady, and again she clasped him in her arms. +"Your happiness is mine! It has been my life-long dream to be married +to a clergyman; is not my father one already?" + +At that moment the father referred to entered the room. + +"What's this?" he cried, as a father naturally would cry on seeing his +daughter with a stranger in her arms. + +The young lady, however, promptly relieved his mind. + +"Father, let me present to you my future husband." + +"I--I do protest," screamed the frenzied curate. + +"You do protest, sir! What do you protest?" The father's voice was +terrible, so was his manner. Apparently all his paternal instincts had +not been destroyed by dipsomania. "You come to this house, sir, a +perfect stranger, sir; you assault my daughter, sir; you take her in +your arms." + +This was, perhaps, strictly speaking, a perversion of the truth; but +at this moment Miss Macleod offered her interposition. + +"You need be under no concern. My nephew is a gentleman. I was a +witness of his proposal. If he behaves as a dastard to your daughter, +I will deliver him to your righteous vengeance then. In the meantime, +perhaps you and your daughter will accompany us home to luncheon. We +can arrange the preliminaries of the marriage during the course of the +meal." + + + CHAPTER III.--A CURIOUS COURTSHIP + +"Miss Bayley, I am in a position of the extremest difficulty." + +Miss Bayley was not only the Rev. Alan Macleod's parishioner; she was, +so to speak, his co-curate, at Swaffham-on-Sea. That delightful +village boasted of a rector who found that the local air did not agree +with him, so he spent most of his time in the South of France. The +Rev. Alan was, therefore, to all intents and purposes, the head and +front of all Church matters in the neighbourhood. Unfortunately the +greater part of the population--what there was of it--was dissenting, +and that part of it which was not dissenting was even worse--it was +Episcopalian!--the lowest of the low! The curate, therefore, found +himself in the position of the sower who sows his seed in barren soil. +His congregation not unfrequently consisted of two--the verger and +Miss Bayley. + +The curate had returned to Swaffham, and it was this faithful feminine +flower of his flock he was addressing now. + +"Oh, Mr Macleod, I am so sorry! Can I help you? Is it spiritual?" + +The curate shook his head. He had not fallen quite so low as that. The +idea of his coming to a person in petticoats for help in spiritual +matters struck him as too absurd. He could scarcely excuse Miss +Bayley. + +"Can you think that I, your priest, should come to learn of you?" + +Miss Bayley looked down. + +"I was wrong," she murmured. She told herself that she ought to have +remembered that none of the curates ever was half so cocksure about +that kind of thing as the Rev. Alan. But then, she was so anxious to +lend him a hand in anything. + +"An error owned is half atoned." + +He meant this for a little pleasantry--but he was an awkward man, even +when he trifled. He hesitated. He was conscious that he had come for +assistance in a matter quite as delicate as anything which appertained +to Church government. + +"Miss Bayley." He cleared his throat. "I--I have an aunt." The +abashed Miss Bayley signified that she had heard him mention that fact +before--which she had, about half a dozen times a day. "She is not one +of us." Miss Bayley sighed; she felt that she was expected to sigh. +"She is of the world worldly. Her thoughts are fixed on temporalities. +Being possessed of great riches, to which I am the natural heir, the +continual desire of her life is that I--I should marry." + +The Rev. Alan stammered a little at the end. Miss Bayley perceptibly +started. That was the continual desire of her life too. She wondered +if it was going to be gratified at last. + +"That you should marry? Oh, Mr Macleod!" + +"I need not tell you that, in such a matter, her desire would not +weigh with me in the least. The true priest is celibate." + +Miss Bayley's heart fluttered--she did not go with him so far as that. + +"But--if she were to disinherit you?" + +"Do you know me so little as that? Nothing would please me better than +that she should." + +He clasped his hands in a kind of ecstasy. The lady, whose father was +the parish doctor, and who knew what it was to have to dress on +nothing a year, was almost tempted to think that the curate was a +fool. But as she could scarcely express the thought aloud, she was +wise enough to hold her peace. The gentleman went on rather awkwardly. +The travelling was getting difficult, in fact. + +"To--eh--such lengths has--eh--she--she--allowed her desire +to--eh--carry her, that--eh--it--it has resulted in--eh--involving me +in--eh--complications of an excessively disagreeable kind." + +Miss Bayley's imagination realised the worst at once. + +"Are you engaged?" she cried. + +"She--she says I am." + +"She says you are!" The lady was on the verge of tears--the blow was +sudden. "Mr Macleod, I have something which I have to do upstairs." + +She felt that if she stayed in the room she might disgrace herself by +crying before his face. The Rev. Alan was dismayed at the idea of her +leaving him. + +"Miss Bayley, I do entreat you not to go. You do not understand me in +the least. _I_ do not say I am engaged; quite--quite the other way." + +"Oh, Mr Macleod!" + +The affair might have its comic side for a looker-on, but it was +tragic enough for her. If she did not get this man, whom could she +get? At Swaffham-on-Sea eligible bachelors were as rare as snow in +summer. Besides--women attach themselves to poodle dogs!--she really +liked the man. + +The curate continued: + +"The--the circumstances really are, I think, the most extraordinary I +ever heard of. I should be almost induced to believe that it had all +happened in a dream were it not for a letter that I have in my +pocket." + +"From whom is the letter?" + +"From--from Miss Vesey." + +"Is that the lady you are engaged to?" + +"En--engaged to? I hadn't made her acquaintance ten minutes before she +said I had proposed to her." + +"She would not have said so unless you had." + +"Miss Bayley, do you not know me better than that? Nothing was further +from my mind! The proposal came from her." + +"I have heard of women proposing to men! And I suppose you accepted +her?" She was strongly tempted to add, "You are imbecile enough for +anything!" But even in that hour of her trial she refrained. + +"I can only assure you that I had no such intention in any words. I +may have used words which came from me unawares, owing to the state of +confusion I was in on receiving such a proposition from a total +stranger." + +Miss Bayley turned away. She thought she saw exactly how it was. + +"I can only offer you my congratulations. I do not know why you enter +into all these details. When is the marriage to be?" + +"Marriage!" + +"Yes, marriage! I hope you will send me a piece of cake! Oh, Mr +Macleod, I never thought you would behave to me like this!" + +Miss Bayley fairly succumbed. She buried her face in her hands and ran +crying from the room. Mr Macleod, left behind, was thunderstruck. He +realised what any man, with even a little knowledge of the world, +would have seen from the first. + +"She loves me! What have I done?" He sank in a chair and he too buried +his face in his hands. Presently he rose again. "Poor, pure soul! She +is the best woman in the world!" He twisted his hands together with a +nervousness which was peculiarly his. "I have done wrong in the sight +of God and man!" + +How he got out of the house he never knew; but he did get out, and +through the front door too. He set off walking towards the rectory, +where in the absence of the rector, he lived rent free. He had not +gone twenty yards from the house when a gloved hand slapped him +smartly on the shoulder. + +"Alan!" + +He turned. There was Miss Vesey and her father. He could hardly +believe that it was, but it was. The lady was brilliantly attired, +perhaps as a set-off to her father. That worthy gentleman resembled +nothing so much as what, in former days, they would have called a +broken-down hedge parson. He was evidently meant for a clergyman, +sartorially. That is, the conception was clear enough, it was the +result which was unsatisfactory. + +"Your hand, my son!" + +He held out his hand after the manner of the fathers in old comedy. +But unfortunately he did not wait for the curate to give him his hand, +he seized it, and shook it up and down--pump-handle fashion. And while +the father was engaged in this edifying performance, the daughter +flung her arms about the curate's neck. + +"My beloved!" she cried. + +If there was any there to behold, they beheld what they had never seen +before--the curate embraced as a curate never had been embraced in +public, at Swaffham-on-Sea. + +"Let me go!" he stammered. + +And in due time the lady let him go. Under the circumstances he kept +his presence of mind very well--for him. + +"You--you'll find the rectory about a quarter of a mile in front of +you, just round the bend in the road. If--if you'll excuse me, I have +a most important visit I must make." + +Miss Vesey's father slapped him heartily--too heartily!--upon the +back, again after the fashion of the comedy fathers. + +"Don't put yourself out for us, my boy! Don't neglect your duties, as +is too often the case with the young. Tell us where the bottles are, +and we'll make ourselves snug till you come in." + +The curate did not tell them where the bottles were; in fact, there +was only a solitary bottle of cod-liver oil in the house, and probably +the speaker's thoughts did not incline that way; but they went on to +the rectory alone. Miss Vesey waved her parasol, and kissed her glove +to him so long as she was in sight. He stood watching them till they +were round the bend in the road, then he re-entered the doctor's +house. + +This time he passed through the back door, straight into the kitchen. +"Lauk, sir!" cried the maid-of-all-work; "who'd a thought of seeing +you?" + +The Rev. Alan addressed her in a fever of excitement. + +"Tell Miss Ellen I must speak to her at once." + +He went into the parlour, and the maid-of-all-work went upstairs. +Presently she returned with a message. + +"If you please, sir, Miss Ellen's compliments, and she's got a +headache." + +Mr Macleod was pacing up and down the room, very much in the manner of +the carnivora about feeding time at the Zoo. + +"A headache!" + +He took his note-book from his pocket. Tearing out a page he scribbled +on it these two or three strongly-worded lines. + + +"I entreat you to see me, if you ever called yourself my friend. It is +a matter of life or death; almost, I would venture to say, of heaven +or hell.--A. M." + + +The maid-of-all-work bore these winged words above. The result was +presently visible in the form of the lady herself. She entered with +the air of a martyr, conscious of her crown. + +"You are my priest. I have come." + +"It is not as a priest I have summoned you, Ellen, but as a friend." + +The use of the Christian name was perhaps unintentional, but the lady +marked her sense of the familiarity at once. + +"Sir!" + +Her lip curled, possibly with scorn. His answer was sufficiently +startling. "Ellen, I entreat you to be my wife." + +"Your wife, Mr Macleod! Are you mad?" + +"I am--nearly! I shall be quite if you don't accede to my request at +once." + +"I think you are mad now. How dare you insult me! when from my bedroom +window I just saw you kissing that creature in the street." + +"I kissed her!--She kissed me." + +"It's the same thing." + +"It's not!" Which was true enough--it was a different thing entirely. +"Ellen, can you not see that I was never more in earnest in my life. +If you do not marry me, something tells me that that woman will, and +for all I know that wretched parent of hers may be the occupant of a +dissenting pulpit; he looks disreputable enough for anything. What +with her and her father, and my aunt, I am as a reed in their hands. I +do entreat you--be my wife." + +The offer was not put in the most flattering form. Still, it was an +offer. + +"If you really want me--" began Miss Bayley. + +"Want you! I want nothing so much in all the world." + +"And if you think I can be of use to you in the parish--" + +"Parish! it's not the parish I'm thinking of, it's--it's that wretched +woman." + +Miss Bayley did not like this way of putting it at all. + +"I will consider what you say, Mr Macleod, and will let you have an +answer--say in a month." + +"In a month!" the curate was aghast. "I want your answer now. Ellen, I +do entreat you, if you do not wish to see me disgraced in the face of +all the world, promise to be my wife." + +"But, Mr Macleod, you do not even pretend to care for me." + +"Care for you! I care for you more than I ever cared for any woman +yet." + +"Then in that case"--the lady was a little coy--"it shall be just as +you will." + +At this point the ordinary lover would have taken her in his arms, and +here would follow a number of crosses denoting what we have seen +termed "osculatory concussions." But the Rev. Alan was not an ordinary +lover at all. He continued his frenzied pacing round the room. + +"It is not enough to promise to be my wife, you must be my wife." + +"Mr Macleod, what do you mean?" + +"Miss Bayley--Ellen--those two persons are at the rectory, awaiting my +arrival at this moment. She is a disreputable woman, he is a ruffianly +man. They are quite capable of coercing me into some dreadful +entanglement from which I may find it impossible to release myself. My +only hope lies in an immediate marriage." + +"I do not understand you in the least." + +"Then let me endeavour to make myself quite plain. I will not return +to the rectory; you will put on your hat and jacket and come up at +once with me to town. I will get a special licence. And we will be +married before anyone has an inkling of what it is that we intend." + +"Mr Macleod, is it an elopement you propose?" + +"Ellen, it is." + +The little man was shaking like a leaf. + +"I never heard of such a thing in my life." + +"Nor did I dream that I should make such a proposition to a living +woman--but needs must when the devil drives." + +The lady began to cry. + +"Alan, I must say you have not a flattering way of putting things." + +"What avails flattery at such a moment as this. For Heaven's sake, +don't cry. I have heard you say yourself that you don't believe in +long engagements." + +"Yes--but when one has not been engaged five minutes!" + +"What matters five minutes or five years, when one has once resolved? +It seems to me that when there is nothing to gain by waiting--but +everything to lose--the sooner one marries the better." + +There was something in this; she told herself that he was not such a +nincompoop after all when he was driven to bay--poor, dear little man! +Amidst her tears she thought of other things. A regular marriage would +involve a trousseau. She was quite sure that she should get no money +out of her father for that--for the best of reasons, he had none to +give. And then she knew her curate. She thought it quite possible that +if that other woman--the brazen hussy!--did once get him in her hands, +he might at any rate be lost to her. Better a good deal than to run +the risk of such an end to all her hopes as that! + +The end of it was that the Rev. Alan Macleod and Miss Bayley went up +together by the next train which left the neighbouring station--eight +miles off--for town. + + + CHAPTER IV.--HIS AUNT EXPLAINS + +Shortly after his marriage Alan Macleod received the following curious +letter from his aunt,-- + + +"NEPHEW ALAN,--Don't talk fiddlesticks about giving up the Church +because you're married, though _I_ never could understand why you ever +became a parson, unless it was because your father was the devil's +own. + +"I meant all along that you should marry the doctor's daughter. Of +course, as a Macleod of Pittenquhair, you might have had the best in +the land, but then--what a Macleod you are! Have you ever heard of the +Irishman's pig? They pull him by the tail when they want him to follow +his snout. That is what I have done with you. I heard all about the +girl and about your philanderings together, and how you thought it was +the Church she worshipped, when the curate was the object of her +adoration. Don't you ever believe about single young women worshipping +the Church when there's a bachelor inside it! I heard she was a decent +body, so I said that, sooner than leave you, the last of the Macleods +of Pittenquhair, a barren stock, the girl should have you. + +"The thing was how--with you and your 'celibate-priest' stuff and +nonsense. But Providence helps those who help themselves--so 'Miss +Vesey' tumbled from the skies. + +"I saw her first at a thought-reading _séance_. She did some very +funny things, and she plays the piano like an angel. She certainly had +a gift that way, for, with the aid of her music, she played all sorts +of tricks on the fools who were there. I thought to myself, what +tricks she might play on you if you came within her range! Then, all +of a sudden, the whole thing was hatched in my brain. I made her +acquaintance. I took her home to supper. Afterwards, inspired by the +largest quantity of champagne I ever saw a woman drink, she told me +all about herself. She was the most candid young woman I ever met. + +"She was married--to an unfrocked parson. But, according to her own +account, she was more than his match. A perfect limb! And as clever as +she was wicked--one of those wicked women who are born, not made, for +she was not yet twenty-one. I told her all about you. I said that if, +through her, you married the doctor's daughter at Swaffham-on-Sea, she +should have five hundred pounds upon your wedding-day. She came into +the scheme at once. So we arranged it all together. + +"Among other things, her husband was one of those scamps who pose, in +the advertisement sheets, as distressed clergymen whose large families +depend for sustenance on their being able to dispose of some article +or other at one-third of its cost price. Just then his line was +apostle spoons--which he bought for five shillings and sold for +twenty. I was to summon you up to town. I was to bully you about your +marriage. And then, when I had thoroughly upset you--which, I +explained to her, it was the easiest thing in the world to do--I was +to call your attention to his advertisement of the apostle spoons. I +was to march you off then and there to buy them. When I had got you +into her house I was to leave the rest to her. + +"She was to pose as her husband's daughter, which she was young enough +to be--in years, at any rate. She said that if I brought you to her in +a state of agitation and confusion bordering on imbecility--which I +undertook to do--and if you were the sort of man I had described to +her, within half an hour she would induce you to use language which +might be construed into an offer of marriage. Then, with her husband's +aid, she would so drive you to distraction as to send you flying into +Miss Bayley's arms as into a harbour of refuge. + +"I need not describe to you how she succeeded--though we had neither +of us bargained that you would be _quite_ the fool you were. When I +heard of your eloping with the doctor's daughter the instant 'Miss +Vesey' put in an appearance on the scene, I owned that I had at last +attained to one article of faith--an implicit belief in the infinite +capacity for folly to be found in the human animal in trousers. + +"It is unnecessary, under these circumstances, to say that I +congratulate you upon your marriage. I hope that your wife will be a +sensible woman, and present you, without loss of time, with a son--or, +better still, with half a dozen, so that I may have an opportunity of +finding at least _one_ among them who shall not be _quite_ such a fool +as his father.--Your affectionate aunt, + + "JANET MACLEOD (of Pittenquhair)." + + +When Miss Macleod's nephew had finished reading this letter, he wiped +the perspiration from his brow. Then he wiped his glasses. Then he sat +thinking, not too pleasantly. Such a letter was a bitter pill to +swallow. Then, not desirous that his aunt's epistle should be read by +his wife, he tore it into strips, and burned them one by one. He told +himself that he would never forgive his aunt--never! and that, +willingly, he would never look upon her face again. + +But to so resolve was only to add another to his list of follies. +Within twenty-four hours of his marriage--fortunately for him--his +wife had proved that the grey mare was once more the better horse. Now +she had got her man, at last, the strong vein of common sense that was +in her came to the front. When Miss Macleod came to see her, she +received her with open arms; and, as a matter of course, where she led +her husband followed. + +To one thing Alan had been constant--to the doctrine of the "celibate +priest." According to him, a "priest" married was not a "priest" at +all. Immediately after his marriage, therefore, nobody offering the +least objection, he quitted the "priesthood." He is now a gentleman of +leisure. Probably with a view of providing him with some occupation +his wife bids fair to come up to his aunt's standard of a sensible +woman, and to present him with half a dozen sons. + +There is, therefore, no fear of the Macleods of Pittenquhair +becoming--like certain volcanoes--extinct, at least in the present +generation. + + + + + XIII + + A RUNAWAY WIFE + + + CHAPTER I.--FLIGHT + +The quarrel which had begun about nothing, had become a raging storm. +She faced him with clenched fists and flashing eyes. + +"Perhaps you would like me to leave you!--to go, and relieve you of my +presence! Our marriage has been a mistake. If you like, I will do my +best so that the mistake may go no further. You have only to say the +word, and I will go out of this house, never to return to it. Is that +what you wish?" + +He laughed. It was as if he had struck her across the face. + +"Consult your own wishes, as you are in the habit of doing, pay no +regard to mine. I can only say that if you wish to go, you are at +perfect liberty to do so--I shall be content." + +"Do you mean that?" + +"Unlike you, I am in the habit of meaning what I say." + +She drew a deep breath, as if she were choking. + +"Then you wish me to go? To leave your house?" + +"Don't I tell you to have regard only to your own desires--as it is +your usual custom? But if you will have it, I tell you quite frankly +that if you propose to continue to play the _rôle_ of termagant, I +would much rather you did it in some other house than this. If I can +have nothing else in my home, I should like to have peace." + +"Then you shall have it." + +"Thank you. Will you be so good as to let me have it at your earliest +convenience?" + +He turned to leave the room. She stopped him. + +"Understand, Frank, that if you don't withdraw what you have said +before you leave the room, I shall take your words literally, and act +upon them to the letter." + +"I understand that perfectly." + +"I shall go." + +"Then go! I do beg, my dear wife, that you won't stand upon the order +of your going. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, so that it's just the time +for a little excursion. I hope you'll have a happy Christmas." + +"I hope that your Christmas will be happier than mine is likely to +be." + +"That is very good of you, I'm sure." He flared into sudden passion. +"How fond you are of striking an attitude--your life is one continued +pose. Do you suppose that I think you will go? Do you imagine that I +don't know you better. You'll talk, talk, talk! and you'll pose, pose, +pose! but you're as likely to go as I should be likely to fetch you +back if you did go--unluckily for me!" + +He was gone, laughing as he went. His laughter was the final straw. +That was what he thought of her! He set her down as simply a humbug; a +windbag; a spouter of big words, which were all sound and had no +meaning. She might threaten to go; he knew that her threats were but +phrases. And he had laughed at her! Very good, he should see! He +should learn if she was a person to be laughed at! She might have +forgiven him much--everything--but his contempt. He would discover, +quickly, if she was a doll, a puppet, an automaton, who could be made +to gabble anything by pulling a string. + +She did not stop to think--being dimly conscious that if she did she +might be impelled to listen to the whisperings of common sense; but, +while her rage was still hot within her, she tore upstairs; put on +something--she scarcely knew what; rushed to the station, and within a +quarter of an hour was seated in a train which was flying along the +rails to London. Then, when it was too late, and the thing was done, +past undoing, she began to consider what the situation really was. + +She had the compartment to herself. On the seat in front of her was +the copy of the Christmas number of an illustrated paper, which some +passenger had left behind. It lay open at a page which caught her eye. +She took it up. There were two full-page pictures, one was entitled +"The First Christmas." A young husband clasped a young wife to his +breast, while they regarded each other with looks of love. The second +was called "The Last Christmas." The husband, grown old, was seated in +an arm-chair, with bent back, and bowed head. The wife, her hair as +white as snow, knelt on the floor beside him, her arms about his neck. +They were as happy in each other's embrace as in the days of long ago, +and their love was just as young. Edith's eyes filled with tears. That +was how she had meant it should be with Frank and herself; their love +should continue, showing no signs of the wear and tear of age, to the +end. But-- + +What was she doing? Running away from the best husband in the world, +and the home of which she was so proud. Was she mad? or was she +dreaming? She started to her feet in a sudden burst of comprehension. +That instant her passion was gone; her vision was clear; she saw. And, +from what she saw, she put up her hands to veil her eyes. To-morrow +was Christmas Eve. Her mother and sister were coming, and some of +Frank's relations'. There was to be a family gathering, to spend the +first Christmas in the home of the newly-married couple. How she had +looked forward to it, and prepared, and made all sorts of plans. But +there were still many things to do, various arrangements to complete. +There was not a minute to spare, she would be fully occupied up to the +very moment of her guests' arrival. Instead of being busied with the +multitudinous details which awaited her attention she was tearing up +to town. Why? With what purpose in view? On what errand? She alone +could tell; and she had not the remotest idea. + +She looked out of the window, wondering whereabouts she was. She would +get out at the first station at which they stopped; if fortune +favoured her, she might catch a train back at once; she would return +before her flight had been discovered. How the train must have +flown--it was Brentwood they were passing! Why did it fly through the +station? She realised, with a shock, that it was the express which she +had caught. That it did not stop till it reached town. What was she to +do? She endeavoured to collect her thoughts! The train reached +Liverpool Street about six. There was not another back till nine. What +was she to do during the intervening three hours--at night, in London, +all alone? Discovery was inevitable. She would have to make what +explanation she could. She remembered Frank's words--that if she went +he would not want her back again. Was it possible that he had meant +what he had said? The horror of the thought. + +Something else occurred to her. She opened her purse to look for her +ticket. It was there right enough--first, single, to Liverpool Street. +Why had she taken single? She recalled, with a flush of shame, how, +even at the booking-office window, she had told herself that the mere +fact of her requiring a single ticket to London was sufficient +proclamation to the world of what it was she meant to do. She must +have been insane indeed! Well, the only thing that remained for her +was to stultify herself as soon as she reached town, and to get +another single ticket to take her back again. + +All at once a horrible fear assailed her. She shuddered as with cold. +She looked at her purse. Then sank back again against the cushions, a +picture of dismay. All the colour had gone from her cheeks, her hands +trembled. Was it possible that she had been so mad as that? Such an +utter fool? It was incredible. Ridiculous though her conduct had been, +she could not have behaved with quite such blind insanity. + +It was some seconds before she regained sufficient self-control to +enable her to submit her purse to a fresh examination. This time she +went through it slowly, and with method. Only to discover that her +worst fears were realised. It contained one of her visiting +cards--"Mrs Frank Bankes, The Chestnuts, Tuesdays, 4 to 6." Would she +ever be there again on Tuesdays to receive her guests? The bill for +the Christmas present which she had bought for Frank; when he had +discovered her absence would he find that present? Would he dream of +how she had schemed and schemed to buy for him the very thing which +she believed he wanted? Would he realise with what a halo of love she +had meant to enshrine it? + +"Oh, Frank, how I love you! If only you knew." + +But apparently he was not likely to know for some considerable time to +come, for, besides the visiting-card and the bill, the entire contents +of her purse consisted of two postage stamps and a threepenny bit. Her +ticket cost nine shillings and ninepence. She remembered tendering +half a sovereign to the booking-clerk and receiving threepence change; +and now it seemed that that half sovereign had been all the money she +had brought away with her. How was she to return; to purchase even a +third-class ticket to take her back again; to send a telegram advising +her husband of the plight she was in, with threepence for her all? + + + CHAPTER II.--THE WOMAN WHO MET HER + +As she remained in a state of semi-stupefaction, mistily wondering +what sort of nightmare Christmas this was going to be for her--for +whom all the world had been full of the promise of good things only an +hour or two ago!--the train rumbled into Liverpool Street. As she sat +endeavouring to collect her thoughts, so as to decide upon some course +of action, the carriage door was opened, and a woman looked in. + +"From Chelmsford?" + +Perceiving that the question was addressed to her, Mrs Bankes, still +half-dazed, looked up, and answered,-- + +"No, from Colchester." + +"That's right! Be quick, the train's late,--I've been waiting for +you." + +"For me?" + +"Yes, for you. I've had instructions to meet you by this train." + +Edith rose from her seat, instantly conscious that a sense of relief +was being born within her. + +"You've had--instructions? When?" + +"Not half an hour ago. It wasn't certain that you were coming by this +train, but in case you did I was to meet you and see you safe." + +The sensation of relief was almost more than she could bear. How good +he was! Frank had accurately gauged the extent of her folly, and had +taken instant steps to guard her from the consequences of her own +misconduct. How little was she deserving of such a husband? With a +blinding mist before her eyes she got out on to the platform. + +"Come," said the woman. "I've a cab waiting." + +"A cab--shall we want a cab?" + +"Of course we shall,--trust me for knowing what we want. You had +better move yourself, there may be someone else here to meet you, and +someone may see you whose recognition you had rather be without." + +What did the woman mean? There was something in her tone which was not +altogether agreeable. Could tidings of her escapade have already +leaked out, and did she go in fear of the condemnatory glances of +censorious friends? In a state of nervous doubt she pressed after the +woman through the crowd. They reached a four-wheeler. Opening the door +her companion let her enter first. When they had started she put a +question on the subject which was preying on her mind, a little +stammeringly. + +"Does--anyone know of what I've done?" + +Her companion's tone, as she replied, was dry--even grim. + +"Just one or two. More than you perhaps imagine, or would quite care +for if you knew. If you don't keep your eyes wide open this'll be the +worst Christmas ever you spent in all your life." + +Edith began to suspect that this might turn out to be only too true. +Her heart sank lower. Amidst the noise made by the cab her voice was +scarcely audible. + +"Is he--so very--angry?' + +"That's a pretty question to ask! You've made a mess of it--about as +bad a mess as you could make, and then you wonder if folks are angry. +I don't know much about it, I'm not told everything, and I don't want +to be told, sometimes the less I know the better I'm pleased; but from +what I have heard, I should say anger wasn't the word for it; and that +you're in for about as bad a time as ever you had in all your days!" + +Edith did not like her companion's manner,--she liked it less and +less. Her voice was not that of an educated woman; her bearing, from +one in her station, was unpleasantly familiar--at times, almost +threatening. Mrs Bankes wondered why her husband had chosen such an +agent, and how he had chanced on her. + +"Where are you taking me?" she asked. + +"Never mind where I'm taking you. Do as I do, and don't want to know +more than you can help. As I've said, sometimes the less you know the +more comfortable you feel." + +"But I insist on knowing where you are taking me. I don't want to go +too far away from the station; I wish to go back by the nine o'clock +train." + +"The devil you do!" The woman actually swore. Edith shuddered. What a +dreadful creature she seemed. How could Frank have selected such a +being to be her companion even for a fleeting hour. "Then you can take +my word for it that you'll go back by no nine o'clock train--not +much." + +"Then by what train shall I return?" + +"How should I know? Return! I shouldn't have thought that you'd have +been anxious to return after what you've done. I should have thought +that it would have been a little bit too warm for you down there." + +What was the woman insinuating? Why did she use such exaggerated +language? It could hardly have been warranted by any instructions +which she had received from Frank. + +"I think that you hardly understand the situation?" + +The stranger cut her short. + +"You're right there--I don't, and I don't want to. If you take my +advice, so far as I'm concerned, you'll keep your mouth shut tight. +Say what you've got to say to someone else, you'll soon have plenty to +say it to, who'll want to hear all, and perhaps a bit besides. All +I've to do is to see you safe; after I've done that, I don't want to +see no more of you." + +Edith was silent. She was beginning to be conscious of a feeling of +vague distrust; to wonder if, in entering a cab with this woman, she +had not made the biggest of all her mistakes. As she began to think, +she perceived the improbability, to say the least, of Frank's having +communicated with anyone in town. Proposing to take a holiday till +after Christmas, he had intended remaining at the office that evening +unusually late. It was extremely unlikely that he would have returned +home until after seven; before then she had reached her journey's end. +In any case he would hardly have had time to telegraph instructions +for her to be met, even if he had suspected her destination. In any +case, who was this woman? What were the instructions which she claimed +to have received, that she should refuse to vouchsafe any information +as to where she was taking her? + +The more Mrs Bankes thought it over the more she was convinced that +she had been the victim of some extraordinary misunderstanding, and +the more desirous she became of opening the cab door, and jumping +straightway out into the street. With some hazy idea of resorting to +such an extremely desperate measure she leaned over towards the +window. Immediately her companion gripped her by the shoulder. + +"Stop that! What are you up to?" + +"I think there's been some mistake." + +Mrs Bankes spoke faintly. Her companion's voice was anything but faint +as she replied. + +"Don't you try any of your tricks with me. I shouldn't be surprised if +there has been a mistake, and it's just to give you a chance of +explaining how it came about that you're going where you are. My +instructions are to see you safe, and I'm going to see you safe. I +carry out my instructions whatever other folks may do; I've got +something to see you safe with, and if you make any fuss you shall +have a taste of what's inside--see?" + +To Mrs Bankes' petrifaction, a revolver gleamed in the speaker's hand, +the muzzle of which was pointed towards her head. It was a form of +argument with which, at the moment, she felt wholly powerless to cope. +Before she again found courage enough to enable her to speak, the cab +drove up before a house. Her companion favoured her with a further +hint or two. + +"Here we are; and don't you make a sound or try to speak a word to +anyone before we get inside, or--" + +The sentence was not concluded; but the speaker moved the weapon, +which she still held in her hand, in a fashion which, so far as Mrs +Bankes was concerned, rounded it off with more than sufficient point. + + + CHAPTER III.--A HOUSE OF THIEVES + +The house in front of which they had stopped seemed empty. At least, +the hurried, agitated glance which Mrs Bankes cast up and down failed +to discover any sign of a light at either of the windows. She had not, +however, much time allowed her for inspection. Her companion, gripping +her arm with uncomfortable firmness, drew her towards the door, which +she opened with a key held in her other hand. So soon as it was opened +she drew Mrs Bankes inside with a force and suddenness which almost +precipitated that lady headforemost on to the floor. Instantly the +door was slammed, and Mrs Bankes found herself standing with the +stranger in pitchy blackness. Nor did the sound of the other's voice +add to her sense of comfort. + +"Now I've done what I was told to do,--I've brought you safe. You'd +better be on your best behaviour, or you'll quickly find yourself in +worse trouble than you are already. Come this way." The woman dragged +her along what seemed to be a passage. "Here's the stairs--up you go." + +And up Mrs Bankes went, pushed and pulled up the unseen staircase in a +way which was more than a little disconcerting. They reached what was +apparently a landing. The stranger, throwing open a door, disclosed a +room, immediately in front of them. + +"In you go." + +And in Mrs Bankes did go, propelled by a well-directed push from the +rear. When she was in, the door was pulled to behind her. She heard +the key turned in the lock outside. Retreating footsteps were +distinctly audible. In a state of bewilderment, which was unlike +anything she had ever been conscious of before, she glanced about her. +She found herself in a small room, whose entire furniture consisted of +a solitary wooden chair--and the back of that was broken. There was +neither carpet nor table. The dirty, tawdry paper was peeling off the +walls. The sole illumination proceeded from a candle stuck in a +broken, battered tin candlestick, which stood upon the greasy +mantelshelf. + +She seated herself on the solitary chair. Her life was ordinarily +placid and uneventful. So much of the unexpected had been crowded into +the last few hours that her mental faculties were in a state of +seemingly inexplicable confusion. This was running away with a +vengeance! This was indeed playing with dignity the part of outraged +and indignant wife! This was a pleasant prelude to the Christmas +season! Where was she? Of what extraordinary misunderstanding was she +the subject? For whom had she been mistaken? What had the other person +done? What was the fate which was awaiting her? Or was it not possible +that there had been no misunderstanding at all; but that her credulity +had been played upon; that she had been tricked into entering a den of +criminals, where she was destined to be the victim of some horrible +outrage? + +As she asked herself these and similar questions, to which she sought +in vain for answers, she became conscious, all at once, of the sound +of voices. She looked about her, and perceived for the first time that +the apartment had two doors--the one through which she had entered and +another immediately facing it. This second door had been covered with +paper of the same pattern as that which was on the walls; and it was +this peculiarity, probably, which had caused its existence to hitherto +escape Mrs Bankes' notice. A moment's attention made plain the fact +that it was through this door that the sound of voices came. Edith +hesitated. Eavesdropping was not to her taste; but in circumstances +such as hers she was surely entitled to take advantage of anything +which might tend to elucidate the position she was in, or which would +prepare her for whatever danger threatened. She stood close up to the +door. + +Apparently there was a room beyond. There seemed to be several +speakers. They were engaged in an animated discussion. She could +distinguish the tones of at least three voices. Presently distinct +words and phrases began to reach her ears. + +"If I had my way I'd cut the heart clean out of her." + +She shuddered. Could the reference be to her? The expression of +opinion seemingly met with the approbation of its hearers. Another +voice became audible--coarse, rough, threatening, and yet, unless Mrs +Bankes erred, its proprietor was feminine. Indeed to her it appeared +that all the speakers were women. + +"That's what I say. Let's make short work of her. No cackle, and no +beating about the bush. She's done us, we'll do her--and waste no time +about it either!" A third voice followed. "That's right; then let's +have her in and get through with it as soon as possible." + +The proposition seemed to be approved. Steps were heard approaching +the door against which the listener stood. A key was turned. The door +was flung open. + +"Now then!--in here! and look sharp about it too!" + +The words were addressed to Mrs Bankes as if she had been a dog. She +shrank back. The command was repeated. + +"Do you hear? Out you come! Or have I to fetch you? No nonsense, or +it'll be the worse for you!" + +As best she could, Mrs Bankes drew herself together. + +"You are making some mistake," she said, and went into the other room. + +She was conscious that her entry created some emotion which was akin +to surprise. There were four women. They all looked at her with +something very like astonishment; as if this pretty, graceful girl, +every inch of her unmistakably a lady, dressed in such perfect taste, +forming altogether such a pleasant picture for the eye to rest upon, +was hardly the sort of person they had expected to see. And yet she +was conscious that their amazement was not by any means of an +agreeable nature; that it did not tend to make their feeling towards +her one whit more cordial. On the contrary, in the rapid glances which +they exchanged one with the other there was a rancorous gleam which +suggested that a fresh element of personal dislike had been generated +in their bosoms by the mere sight of her. + +Her entrance was followed by an interval of silence, which was broken +by Edith repeating her former assertions with such show of courage as +she was capable of. + +"There has been some mistake. If you will allow me, I think I can +explain quite easily how it has happened. It is all owing to my +foolish hastiness. I am quite willing to admit that the fault has been +in great part mine." + +Her offer to elucidate the situation, or, at any rate, the part which +she had played in it, made with all humility, was not greeted with any +show of heartiness. Rather the faces in front of her hardened, as if +her words added fuel to the fire of their resentment. + +"You're a pretty piece, upon my word! You look a fine lady, and no +error! Anyone would think you were one, to hear you talk. You impudent +cat, to try to carry it off with us. You shut your mouth, and don't +you speak unless you're spoken to, or we'll soon shut it for you, and +don't you make any mistake, my beauty. You forget where you are, and +what you're here for." + +"I assure you--" + +"Catch her a clap over the jaw." + +In obedience to the request, the woman who had bade her enter the room +struck her in the mouth, with her clenched fist, with such violence +that she reeled back, and all but fell to the floor. Her brain seemed +to reel in harmony with her body. Never before in the whole course of +her life had she been struck a blow. No action could have revealed to +her more clearly the sort of company she was in. + +Three of the women into whose presence she had been so unceremoniously +introduced, were seated round a table whose jagged and time-stained +surface was covered with a cloth. The one who had been the instigating +cause of what seemed to Edith such an entirely unprovoked assault, was +a short, thick-set woman of between forty and fifty years of age. She +was dressed with a cheap flashiness which served to emphasise her +natural vulgarity. Her cheeks were red; her eyes were small though +bold; on her upper lip was more than the suggestion of a moustache. +She looked like the not too respectable wife of some disreputable +small publican; a likeness which was rendered the more obvious by the +accident of her having in her hand a glass which was half filled with +the drink of which, plainly enough, her soul was over-fond. On her +left was a tall, scraggy woman, of about the same age, clad in rusty +widow's weeds. She, like her companion, wore a bonnet, but hers was an +emblem of the deepest woe. Even her hands were cased in black. Anyone +seeing her casually would have taken her for the widow of some +struggling tradesman, who, now that she was left alone in the world, +had taken, as a last resource, to letting lodgings. The expression of +her face was not an agreeable one; and no judge of character, who had +once had a good look at it, would willingly have accepted her as a +landlady. She had high cheek-bones; hollow, sallow cheeks, as though +her side teeth had departed from their places; a long, pointed nose; +wide, shapeless mouth, and she kept her thin lips tightly closed. She +was not the sort of woman into whose sympathetic ears one would have +been disposed to pour a tale of woe. And it was surprising, when she +spoke, how disagreeable her voice sounded,--as if her small, mean, +rasping nature had even got the better of her vocal organs. + +But it was on the third person seated at the table that Edith's +attention was, half unconsciously, chiefly centred. This she +instinctively felt was the leading spirit present in the room, the one +in whose hands her fate principally rested. The woman was of so +distinct and even curious a personality that one wondered by what +chance she found herself in such a gallery. She was so small as to be +almost diminutive; but she was both young and pretty. One might wonder +how much her fair hair, and the bloom on her cheeks, owed to artifice; +but there could be no doubt as to the well-shaped mouth, the pouting +lips, the dainty aquiline nose, the big bright eyes, shaded by +unusually long lashes, and piquant, arched eyebrows. Yet it was in her +eyes, charming though they were, that one read most clearly the storm +warnings of her character. There was in them something daring, wild, +relentless, suggestive of the masculine adventurer, to whom the world +is an oyster, to be opened by the sharp blade of his keen wits. + +She was oddly dressed, with a profusion of chiffons which became her +small form peculiarly well. So far, Edith had not heard her voice, +but, as Mrs Bankes reeled before the force of her assailant's blow, +she broke into a peal of hearty laughter, which, under the +circumstances, seemed out of place as proceeding from those pretty +lips. + +"Poor thing! She doesn't seem to like it! Give her another; teach her +how to swallow a tooth or two." + +But even the creature who had struck her seemed to shrink from a +display of such gratuitous brutality. + +"There's plenty more where that came from, and I expect she'll have +'em before I've done with her. But for the present I daresay she'll +find that that's enough--it'll give her a taste of what's to follow." + +Edith, regarding the speaker, realised what a typical virago she was, +almost masculine in build, big and broad, slovenly in her attire; her +draggled bonnet was a little on one side of her head, and her black +serge dress covered with stains. To Mrs Bankes' frightened eyes, the +lust of combat was written largely over her. + +"I've got no time to waste. Let's put the slut through her paces, and +have done with her. The sooner we're shut of her the better I'll be +pleased." + +It was the woman who resembled a publican's wife who spoke. No one +said her nay. She spoke to Edith. + +"First of all, hand over what you've got." + +Edith stared at her bewildered. "Hand over what I've got? I don't +understand. I've got nothing." + +The woman brought down the palm of her hand with a bang upon the +table. + +"No blarney, hand over what you've got, before we take it from you." + +"All I have is in there." + +The young wife held out her purse with a trembling hand. The virago, +snatching it from her, subjected its contents to a rude examination. + +"Here's a card, a bill, two stamps, and a threepenny bit,--and that's +all." + +"That's all I have--every penny. I give you my word it is." + +The four women stared at her, as if the surprise caused by her +statement had deprived them of their power of speech. It was the +publican's wife who was the first to find her tongue. + +"Of all the beauties I ever heard of!--if you haven't got the cheek of +fifty! Why, you yourself sent word that you'd got about four hundred +pounds' worth!" + +"I sent word? Four hundred pounds' worth of what?" + +The lady became, on a sudden, very angry. "If you try that on with me, +you two-faced cat, I'll smash your face in with my own hands!" + +The little woman poured oil on the troubled waters--in a fashion of +her own. + +"Let's begin calmly, at any rate. Let me deal with this person, we may +arrive at an understanding quicker that way--she seems to require +understanding." She addressed herself to Edith, in a manner which that +lady found sufficiently startling. "We will begin at the beginning. +That will prevent our leaving anything in obscurity. There seems to be +a good deal of obscurity about just now. You will remember that when +you came out of Wandsworth jail--" + +Mrs Bankes stared, and well she might. + +"When I came out of Wandsworth jail!" + +"Yes, when you came out of Wandsworth jail. You seem prepared to deny +a good many things, but I take it that you can hardly be disposed to +deny that you did come out of Wandsworth jail." + +At that moment Mrs Bankes was prepared to deny nothing. Her tongue was +parched and dry. It seemed to her that she must be suffering from +nightmare, and that these things were taking place in some horrible +dream. The speaker went on, as calmly and quietly as if she were +treating of the most ordinary subjects in the most commonplace manner; +yet there was a glitter in her eyes which did not promise well for the +person she was addressing. + +"I say that you will remember that when you came out of Wandsworth +jail, as you have come out of other jails in the course of your not +uneventful career, you were introduced, by a certain individual, to +our society. Our rules and regulations were explained to you; you +expressed yourself as being satisfied; you subscribed to them; you +became a member. Not one of us who is here present has had the +pleasure of meeting you personally before, or I am sure that we should +have congratulated ourselves on securing so promising a recruit to our +little circle. I do not flatter you when I assure you that you look a +really ideal thief, capable of practising your profession to the +utmost advantage in the best of good society." + +Mrs Bankes shivered. + +The speaker smiled. + +The others only glared. + +"When it was proposed to annex the Denyer jewels--" + +"The Denyer jewels?" + +Mrs Bankes gasped. A sudden gleam of light began to glimmer through +the mist--a dreadful gleam. + +"You seem fond of echoing my words! I say that when it was proposed to +annex the Denyer jewels, you immediately volunteered to carry the +business through. Your offer was accepted. You were provided with +every necessary, and, if one may judge from your appearance, with a +few luxuries as well; you were sent down to Colchester--all at our +expense--and a place was found for you in Lady Denyer's household. +Certain persons were associated with you in the enterprise, and among +them, Mary Griffiths." + +"Mary Griffiths?" + +Fresh light was gaining access to the lady's bewildered brain, light +which was growing more and more lurid. + +"You may well start, and look uncomfortable at the mention of Mary +Griffiths' name, especially when you reflect on the position she is +now in, owing to your--shall we call it, discreet behaviour? You +informed us that all was going on well, and yet, on the night on which +you, yourself, had arranged that the _coup_ should be brought off, +almost immediately Mary Griffiths gained access to the house she was +arrested. When we asked you to explain, you were so good as to tell us +that it was absolutely necessary to allow her to be arrested in order +to draw suspicion off yourself, and, by way of solace, you added the +information that you had, at any rate, got hold of four hundred +pounds' worth of her ladyship's jewels. From all we learnt we could +not but suppose that you had made a slight mistake, and that by four +hundred you meant four thousand. Jewels to the value of more than four +thousand pounds appear to have gone; if you have not got them, then +who has? The question is rather a nice one, don't you think?" + +The speaker paused as if for a reply. None came. Mrs Bankes was +trembling in every limb. She perceived, even more clearly than those +in front of her, how close she was standing to the brink of a chasm. + +"When we perceived your reluctance to communicate with us, our doubts +as to your perfect trustworthiness began to amount to something +stronger than suspicion--particularly when we learnt that, not content +with betraying Mary Griffiths, you proposed to betray us too; to slip +away to a quiet little shelter of your own, and there have a good time +on the proceeds of the property which, whosesoever it was, had been +procured, so far as you were concerned, very much at our expense. So, +since it had clearly become a question of diamond cut diamond, we +contrived a little scheme by means of which we hoped to lure you up to +town. Our little scheme has succeeded even beyond our expectations. +You came to town; you came here; and now that we have got you here, +you may take my word for it that we don't mean to let you go till we +have had an opportunity of crying quits. First of all, hand over those +jewels. Not, you understand, four hundred, but four thousand pounds' +worth." + +"But I haven't got them. I assure you--" + +"Silence! We don't want any of your assurances, we don't want words +from you of any sort or kind. I fancy that at talk we should find you +more than a match for us. I'll tell you what we're going to do. We're +going to ask you to hand over those jewels, and if you don't hand them +over at once, to our satisfaction, we're going to strip you. If we +don't find them concealed in your clothing, as, for my part, I think +we probably shall do, we're going to find out where they are +concealed, if we have to kill you to do it. I tell you, frankly, that +I should have as little compunction in killing you as I should have in +killing a snake which had tried to bite me. For such as you, plain +killing is too good. Hand over those jewels." + +"I have no jewels! For God's sake, listen to me! There is some +dreadful mistake." + +"That's enough of that. Penfold, strip her. I daresay you can manage +her single-handed; but if you want assistance, I shall be happy to +give you mine." + +The virago, addressed as Penfold, grinned, not agreeably. + +"I sha'n't want assistance, not with the likes of her. I can handle +her as easy as if she was a baby." + + + CHAPTER IV.--OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN + +Penfold proceeded to put her words to the proof. Without any sort of +warning, she took Edith by the throat, and, advancing her foot, +tripped her over on to the floor with an ease which was positively +ludicrous. And, having got her down, choking her with one huge hand, +while with the other she began to tear her clothes from off her with +as scant formality as she might have plucked the feathers from a fowl, +Edith made not the slightest attempt at resistance. Not only was there +no fight left in her, but she was being throttled. If that iron grasp +about her slender throat was not soon relaxed, she would, ere long, +become a runaway wife indeed, and for ever. Before, however, that +consummation had been achieved, and she was actually and finally +throttled, a diversion was caused by the unceremonious entrance of +still another woman, who was holding a paper in her hand. Without any +sort of prelude she addressed herself to all and sundry. + +"Clara Harvey's been too much for us. She's declined to swallow the +bait we offered her, she saw the hook behind it, as I expected she +would. She's given us the slip, and apparently got clean away, because +she's had the impudence to send me this telegram." + +The new-comer read aloud from the piece of paper she was holding, +which was now seen to be a telegraph form. + + +"So sorry cannot accept kind invitation to come to town. Have business +engagement, which I am now starting to fill. Good-bye, dearest, in +case I should not see you again for very long time, which fear I +sha'n't. Say good-bye for me to the other dears. Hope dear Mary won't +suffer much, but we have all of us to be in trouble in our turn. Best +love.--CLARA." + + +The reading of this curiously and extravagantly-worded telegram, was +followed by a chorus of exclamations. + +"What nonsense are you talking?" "What are you reading from?" "Who's +been kidding you?" "Clara's here!" + +It was the new-comer's turn to exclaim. "Clara's here? Where?" + +"Here!" + +Her attention was directed to the figure of Mrs Bankes, who was still +recumbent on the floor, though fortunately Penfold had somewhat +softened the vigour of her attentions. The new-comer stared at the +prostrate lady. + +"Clara! That's not Clara!" + +"Not Clara? Don't talk rubbish! It's her, right enough!" + +"I don't know who that is, and I don't know what you're playing off on +me, but I do know that's not Clara Harvey. I've known her pretty well +all my life; if I don't know her, I don't know who does, and I tell +you that's no more Clara Harvey than I am." + +On the faces of the four women were looks of stupefied amazement. +Penfold shook the recipient of her tender mercies. + +"Now then, wake up there, you ain't quite dead. Ain't you, Clara?" + +"No!" Mrs Bankes just managed to gasp. + +On the table lay her purse, with its contents displayed to the public +gaze. The new-comer took up the visiting card. + +"What's this? Mrs Frank Bankes, The Chestnuts, Tuesdays, 4 to 6." + +"I'm Mrs Frank Bankes," murmured the owner of that name. + +The new-comer darted forward. + +"Not Mrs Frank Bankes, of Colchester? Not the wife of Frank Bankes, +the solicitor, who's undertaken the prosecution of Mary Griffiths?" + +"I'm his wife." + +The new-comer evinced all the symptoms of mental disturbance. She +stared at Edith as if she were a ghost. Then looked at the others with +eyes in which were both anger and amazement. + +"What--what's the meaning of this? What tomfoolery have you been up +to? How came she here?" + +The little woman advanced to the front. + +"It is for her to explain, not us. She came here with Ricketts as +Clara Harvey; she allowed us to believe she was Clara Harvey. You know +neither of us four has ever seen Clara Harvey; we never supposed, +therefore, that she could be anyone else!" She spoke to Edith. "Why +did you pass yourself off as someone else?" + +"I didn't. I told you there was a mistake. I wanted to explain but you +wouldn't let me." + +"But you came here with Ricketts?" + +"Not of my own free will. I didn't want to come, but she made me. She +threatened to shoot me if I tried to get out of the cab." + +"But how came you to be with Ricketts at all? Do you know her?" + +"If you mean by Ricketts the person who brought me here, I never saw +her before in my life. When she came to me in the railway carriage, I +thought my husband had sent her to meet me. I was in great distress, +or I should have been more cautious." + +"Look here, Mrs Bankes, what has happened has been your fault, not +ours. We certainly were not desirous of your presence, so perhaps you +will just explain by what curious accident you are here." + +Mrs Bankes did explain, lamely enough, and with plentiful lack of +dignity. Her audience listened with all their ears. + +"I am Mrs Bankes, of Colchester. This afternoon I quarrelled with my +husband--I see now that I was altogether in the wrong." If only Frank +could have heard! "I was beside myself with passion. I said that I +would run away, and--I ran away. When I got to London someone came to +me in the train. I thought my husband had sent her to take me back +again, so--I went with her, but--she brought me here instead--you +wouldn't listen to me, so--" + +She stopped short, something seemed to be choking her. But she had +said enough to make her meaning pretty plain. + +"Ricketts is a fool." They were the first words the lady in widow's +weeds had uttered. They seemed to meet with general approval. + +"Rickett's is not the only fool." The addition was the little woman's. +This expression of opinion was also adopted. "For all I know, Mrs +Bankes, you may, on ordinary occasions, be a person remarkable for +common-sense; but you must forgive my saying that, on this occasion, +it is not that quality in your conduct which strikes one most. You are +the wife of a man who is no friend of ours; you have forced yourself +into our confidence; you have tricked us into treating you with +alarming frankness; you have engineered yourself into a position in +which you will be able to do us serious mischief. For us it now +becomes a question of self-preservation. What are we to do with her?" + +"Don't let her go back to her husband." + +This suggestion also came from the lady in weeds. An irrepressible +shudder went all over Mrs Bankes. She would have protested, however +feebly, against so terrible a proposition, had not her tongue refused +its office. Never had she supposed it possible that she would have +been treated with contempt by anyone--and by a gang of thieves! + +The five women drew together at one side of the room. They entered +into agitated discussion, conducted, however, in whispers, so as to be +inaudible to the anxious lady close at hand. The consultation could +not have been carried far before the room door was again thrown open, +and the woman, Ricketts, who had been primarily the cause of all the +mischief, came rushing in. + +"Quick!--the coppers! they're at the door!--the other way." + +The woman was a picture of excitement and alarm. As soon as she had +spoken she turned and fled as rapidly as she had come. Her words fell +like a bombshell amidst the little group of women. Without an attempt +at comment they rushed after her, bustling each other in their panic +flight. Almost before she learned what had happened, and certainly +before she could guess what was about to happen, Mrs Bankes found +herself alone. Suddenly there was the sound of violent knocking at the +street door; a loud crash; heavy footsteps were heard ascending the +stairs. Three or four men came into the room. One of them, advancing, +laid his hand upon her shoulder. He turned to a man behind him. + +"They've had the office and done a bolt. I daresay they are trying the +roof; go up and see. Take somebody with you." The man addressed walked +quickly from the room, two others going with him. + +"You are my prisoner." + + + CHAPTER V.--INTO THE FIRE + +Mrs Bankes looked up at the speaker with ashen cheeks. + +"Your prisoner? What do you mean? Who are you?" + +"You know very well who I am, though, since you ask, I don't mind +telling you that I'm a detective officer of police, named Macarthy, +which, no doubt, is all quite news to you. How comes it that you +weren't so nimble on your pins as those friends of yours?" + +"Friends of mine?" + +"They are friends of yours, I take it. You're a regular happy family, +aren't you? And a nice little lot you seem to be. You, at anyrate, +will be separated from them for a time. Hold out your hands." + +He did not wait for her to hold out her hands, he held them out for +her. In an instant handcuffs were girdling her dainty wrists. This did +seem to be the most terrible catastrophe of all, that she, Edith +Bankes, should be arrested at Christmas-time, as a common thief, and +handcuffed! + +"You are making a horrible mistake, I am not the person you take me +for." + +"I don't see how you can make that out, since I haven't said who I do +take you for as yet. Of course you can cheek it out if you like, but +don't you think it would seem too thin? Do you expect us to believe +that only ladies of first-class character are to be found in a house +like this--the foulest den in London?" + +"I assure you, officer, that it is only owing to the most +extraordinary misapprehension." + +"Of course--not a doubt of it; it always is like that. Take my advice +and keep a still tongue--anything you say 'll be used against you. +Sorry to have to use the bracelets, we don't generally, with a lady, +but, in a place like this, we take no chances. Jones, take her off, +and let Wright go with you. I'm going over this place, and then I'll +come straight on." + +"But I implore you to listen to me. I am Mrs Bankes--" + +"Very pleased to meet you, Mrs Bankes; hope to see you again a little +later on. Now off you go; don't be silly. You don't want us to carry +you, I suppose--it might spoil your pretty clothes!" + +He gave her what was meant as a good-natured push; but to her, +unaccustomed to come into physical contact with policemen, it was as +if the heavens were falling. A younger man took her by the arm. + +"Now then. Downstairs!" + +She went downstairs, the officer gripping her firmly. The house seemed +full of men. In the street were half a dozen more. Her companion +called one of them to her. Presently she found herself walking between +two constables, each having hold of an arm, handcuffed, to the station +house. And even then she was unable to adequately realise the +situation. It did seem incredible that she, a woman of position, the +wife of a man of reputation, could be hauled off to jail without even +knowing with what crime she was charged. She made still another effort +to induce her captors to hear reason. + +"I do assure you that you are making a dreadful mistake. I am Mrs +Bankes--" + +Sergeant Jones interrupted her. + +"All right, you've said that before. We've been ordered to take you to +the station, and if you're a duchess it makes no difference to us, +we're going to take you. You can explain all about it when you're +there." + +What was the use of attempting to argue with such impossible +creatures? Fate was hard on her. Her heart was sinking down into her +shoes. Was she actually to spend a night in a police cell, after +undergoing goodness only knew what indignities? What an inauguration +of the Christmas season? What would be her husband's feelings? What +would her relations think? What would her acquaintances say? What a +tale to be told against her throughout the whole remainder of her +life! The horror of it all! + +As they passed out of the narrow street in which stood that house of +ill omen, just as they had turned the corner, six or seven figures +appeared out of the darkness, and without uttering a sound, or word of +warning, precipitated themselves upon the advancing trio. Before Mrs +Bankes had an inkling of their purpose she found herself being torn +from the clutches of her captors, each of whom, with what seemed to be +a cloth thrown over his head, was being dragged backward on to the +ground. In what appeared little more than an instant she was freed at +the expense of her arms being torn nearly out of their sockets, and +was being hurried along the pavement under the guidance of a tall +individual in a long dark overcoat, who continually urged her, by word +and action, to use her utmost speed. + +"Who are you? Where are you taking me?" she managed to articulate. Her +conductor's reply was not entirely satisfactory. + +"Move yourself. It's all right, coast's clear, only don't stop +talking. I've got a cab round the corner, this way." + +He whirled her round into an alley which she would hardly have noticed +if it had not been for him. In the dim light a hansom stood waiting. +He lifted her in without a with-your-leave or by-your-leave, sprang in +after her, and in a moment the horse, urged by its driver, tore off at +the top of its speed. So soon as they had started the man at her side +broke into a peal of laughter, which, despite its heartiness, had +about it a peculiar quality of silence, beginning at the same time to +talk with surprising volubility. + +"Neat, wasn't it? Did you ever see anything neater? I fancy I scored +off those infernal coppers that time, what do you think? I heard you +were going to be raided, in fact I saw them starting, so I whipped up +a few trusty pals, boys who wouldn't stick at a trifle, and I've got +you away from them at any rate; it'll be your own fault, my dear, if, +after this, you're buckled again. I should like to see Macarthy's face +when he hears what's happened to those chaps of his. Aren't you very +much obliged to me?" + +Edith was not by any means certain. She ventured on an inquiry. + +"Who are you?" + +"I'm Captain Jim." + +"Captain Jim?" + +"Yes, you must be a raw hand if you've never heard of Captain Jim. +Why, it's only a week or two since I came out from doing my last five +years, and I've made things move since I've been out, I tell you. A +word to the wise--I've got the biggest thing in my eye ever you heard +of. Some of that lot in your gang have got grit, that I do know, and +if you're the sort of girl I take you for, you're just the one I +want--we'll bring it off between us, just me and you together. What do +you say to that?" + +"Thank you, but I--I'm afraid you've made a mistake--" + +"Oh, blow your mistakes, I don't believe it! You wouldn't have been +where you were if you hadn't got the right stuff in you. Let me take +those darbies off, they can't feel comfortable on those nice little +wrists of yours; darn their eyes for putting them on you." + +The handcuffs did gall her. She offered no objection to his removing +them with the aid of a key which he took from his pocket. When they +were off he tossed them up into the air, catching them as they came +down. + +"You beauties! you've buckled many a good man; wouldn't I like to +buckle a copper with you for a change? I'd make him look funny!" + +The cab had been dashing along without any diminution of speed. It +turned round still another corner. Captain Jim looked out. "Keep your +eyes skinned. My place is along here. Bill--that's the cabman, he's a +pal of mine--don't want to stop any longer than he can help, for fear +of being spotted,--you never know who's looking; so when I give the +word jump out like lightning." + +"But I want to explain to you--" + +"Stow your explanations till we get inside. Then you and me'll have a +good old palaver. Now then." + +The cab drew up. Somehow, she herself scarcely knew how, Edith found +herself standing on the pavement with Captain Jim. Almost before she +felt the ground beneath her feet the cab was off. + +"Pretty smart that. Bill can move when he wants to, trust him to get +the right sort of cattle. Now then, here we are at home." He turned +towards the house behind them. She made a further attempt at +expostulation--but she was too far gone to do so with effect. + +"It's all a mistake, I want to tell you it's all a mistake." + +"Tell me all about it when we get inside. You're not up to the mark, I +can see. A pick-me-up will put you to rights." + +He had been opening the door with a latchkey while he had been +speaking. He hustled her through it, in spite of her feeble effort at +resistance, leading the way into an apartment which appeared to be +used as a sitting-room. The man looked round with an air of pride. + +"Not a bad kind of crib, is it? And I have got a bedroom what is +better than this,--you trust me to get the proper sort of place. +There's some as would give a hundred pounds, and more, to find me in +here--but they've got to find someone who'll give them the office. I +don't think you will, what do you think? By George, you're a ripper! +You look like glass, you do, I'd no idea you were such a beauty. Why, +you'd look well in any company, I know what I'm talking about, I do. +You mark my words! I'm going in for a clean hundred thousand pounds, +and I'm going to touch it too, and you're the very sort I want to come +in with me. We'll go shares, fifty thousand pounds a-piece! What do +you say to that? You wait a minute, and I'll tell you all about it, I +want to say a word to my old landlady." + +He left the room. She was afraid that he would lock the door behind +him, but he was evidently too wholly unsuspicious of the true state of +the case to think of doing anything of the kind. In a moment her +resolution was formed, with such strength as was left to her. She +waited till she heard that his footsteps had receded along the +passage. Then she too stole from the room. She crept along the passage +with as little noise as possible. She reached the front door. The hall +was in darkness; she fumbled with the latch, the sound reaching the +keen ears of Captain Jim. + +"What's that? Who's there?" + +She found the handle; the door was open. Captain Jim came running +along the passage. But with all his haste, he was too late. She was +through the door, half a dozen paces away. The street was a mean one, +dark and deserted. But, some hundred yards off, there was the gleam of +lights, the roar of traffic, and evidently close at hand was some +big thoroughfare. If she could only reach it she might be safe. +Despair--the consciousness that it was now or never--lent her wings. +She ran as she had never run before. Yet the man behind her ran faster +still. She knew he gained. Another effort--still she might be at the +corner first. As she reached it, he caught her by the shoulder. His +voice was hoarse with rage. + +"What the devil does this mean? What little game do you think you're +up to?" + +"Help! Help!" she screamed. + +Just as the man was beginning to draw her back into the side street +someone came hurrying towards her across the pavement. Someone, who, +without the slightest hesitation, struck Captain Jim full in the face, +with such force and such science, that that gentleman went down like a +ninepin. + +"You villain!" exclaimed a voice--which sounded to the girl like a +voice from heaven. "What are you doing to this lady?" + +"Frank!" she cried. + +"Edith? Great heavens! is it you?" + +In another moment the wife was crying in her husband's arms. + +"Oh, Frank, take me away, before they kill me." + +Captain Jim had regained his feet. He seemed disposed to +bluster--though evidently not completely at his ease. + +"What did you hit me for? Who do you think you're knocking about? What +do you mean by interfering between my wife and me?" + +"Your wife--you hound? Think yourself lucky if I let you go. Say +another word and I'll call that constable, and give you into custody." + +As it chanced, at that moment a policeman was seen approaching. At +sight of him, Captain Jim, apparently completely at a loss to +understand the situation, slunk off, muttering curses beneath his +breath. Mr Bankes hailed a passing hansom. When he got into it he +found that his wife had fainted. + + + CHAPTER VI--AFTERWARDS + +They returned by the nine o'clock train. The strange happenings herein +set forth took place in a very much shorter time than it has taken to +tell of them. She told her tale of wonder as they travelled homewards, +he listening with open-mouthed amazement, interpolating occasional +suggestions as to what he would like to do to some of the characters +treated of in the lady's narrative. + +When the Christmas guests arrived upon the morrow they little guessed +what was the real inspiration of the exceeding warmth with which their +hostess greeted them. Never was there a happier Christmas gathering, +"a more united family." Everything went off without a hitch. + +Mary Griffiths was tried for her share in the robbery of the Denyer +jewels, and Frank Bankes was solicitor for the prosecution. She was +found guilty. Previous convictions having been proved against her, she +was sentenced to a term of penal servitude. + +Mr and Mrs Bankes have heard nothing of that gang of dreadful women +who got the lady in their clutches owing to such a very singular +misunderstanding. Nor of Captain Jim. Truth to tell they have made no +enquiries with a view of hearing, being desirous that no one but +themselves should know that Mrs Bankes was ever--even for so short a +space of time--a runaway wife. + +She has never felt disposed to run away since, and come what may, she +is absolutely convinced that she never will. + + + + THE END + + + + + + + EDINBURGH + COLSTON AND CO. LIMITED + PRINTERS + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Confessions of a Young Lady, by Richard Marsh + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40354 *** |