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diff --git a/40354-8.txt b/40354-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 02ae3c9..0000000 --- a/40354-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11483 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Confessions of a Young Lady, by Richard Marsh - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Confessions of a Young Lady - Her Doings and Misdoings - -Author: Richard Marsh - -Release Date: July 27, 2012 [EBook #40354] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONFESSIONS OF A YOUNG LADY *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive - - - - - - - - - - - 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. 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