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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40611 ***
+
+                             [Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+                             Prince Charlie
+
+                                   BY
+
+                            BURFORD DELANNOY
+
+
+                               AUTHOR OF
+                         "THE MARGATE MYSTERY"
+                         "£19,000," ETC., ETC.
+
+
+                          _WITH FRONTISPIECE_
+
+
+                         R. F. FENNO & COMPANY
+                  18 EAST SEVENTEENTH STREET, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+                                CONTENTS
+
+
+    CHAP.                                                       PAGE
+
+       I  HERO AND HEROINE MEET                                    7
+
+      II  THE CHILD THE WISE MAN, AND THE LADY                    15
+
+     III  SHE DISCOVERS THE AUTHOR                                24
+
+      IV  THE DANGER SIGNAL                                       31
+
+       V  PLAYING WITH FIRE                                       40
+
+      VI  A STRANGE REQUEST                                       48
+
+     VII  READING THE HAND                                        59
+
+    VIII  A SOFT GOOD-NIGHT                                       67
+
+      IX  OVER THE GARDEN WALL                                    76
+
+       X  THE LITTLE WINGED GOD                                   86
+
+      XI  THE VOICE IN THE DARKNESS                               94
+
+     XII  MISUNDERSTANDINGS                                      100
+
+    XIII  FEVERISH SYMPTOMS                                      111
+
+     XIV  TO BEG FOR MERCY                                       123
+
+      XV  ON HER KNEES TO HIM                                    131
+
+     XVI  GOD'S LITTLE BOY                                       141
+
+    XVII  THE PASSING OF THE NIGHT                               150
+
+   XVIII  THE BREAKING OF THE DAY                                159
+
+     XIX  PLAYING THE SPY                                        167
+
+      XX  A HORRIBLE REVELATION                                  176
+
+     XXI  THE ONLY WAY                                           184
+
+    XXII  WHITE LIES                                             192
+
+   XXIII  LOVE'S LABOUR LOST                                     204
+
+    XXIV  RESTORED SIGHT                                         213
+
+     XXV  EJECTED FROM THE CABIN                                 223
+
+    XXVI  AS SOBER AS A JUDGE                                    230
+
+   XXVII  THE FINANCIAL LOADSTONE                                237
+
+  XXVIII  HOMEWARD BOUND                                         244
+
+    XXIX  ACHING HEARTS AND LAUGHING FACES                       252
+
+     XXX  AS FAITHFUL AS A DOG                                   261
+
+    XXXI  A TEACUP STORM                                         269
+
+   XXXII  RESUMPTION OF DICK'S GOOD TEMPER                       277
+
+  XXXIII  A TANGLED TRINITY                                      287
+
+   XXXIV  OUR SEAT                                               298
+
+    XXXV  CHRISTMAS EVE                                          308
+
+   XXXVI  THE CHRISTMAS BOX                                      315
+
+
+
+
+                             PRINCE CHARLIE
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER I
+
+                         HERO AND HEROINE MEET
+
+
+The advent of its regatta is usually the herald of a sea-side season's
+demise. Wivernsea, as yet, is not sufficiently developed to justify
+indulgence in a water festival. So far, its carnival flights have been
+confined within the limits of flower shows and the treats of its Sunday
+school.
+
+The builder--his surname is Jerry--is around with a rule though. His
+conspiracy with the man who plots lands and dispenses free luncheons and
+railway tickets, will possibly wreak a change on that part of the map's
+countenance. Increased population may render the place more famous--or
+infamous. So very much depends on one's viewpoint.
+
+The houses of Wivernsea are built in its bay. Stuck in round the fringe
+of it like teeth in a lower jaw. Picture to yourself the long ago--the
+bay's origin--and the present appearance of the place may come before
+you. If possible to introduce a belief that there were giants in the
+earth in those days it will make realization simpler. Because it looks
+as if a mammoth had snapped at the coast just there and bitten out a
+huge mouthful.
+
+If your imagination is sufficiently elastic to give play to it, conceive
+houses being dropped into the marks left by the giant's teeth--a sort of
+dental stopping. So may be garnered a fair idea of the presentment of
+this particular indentation in the land.
+
+When the goose of Michaelmas is shaking in its scales, Wivernsea lodging
+letters encroach on the farmer's privilege. The closing time of their
+harvest is near enough to be grumbled at. It is painful knowledge to
+them that visitors scuttle away as September ends. The exodus is due to
+some absurd belief that the weather then--like a school at the advent of
+the holidays--breaks up.
+
+In the ears of one man--William Masters by name,
+binder-together-of-sensational-incidents in-book-form by
+profession--such grumbles tingled pleasantly. Because the usual October
+Wivernsea weather is mild and bright and rainless. Being a
+non-gregarious man, the place shaped before his eyes as a land flowing
+with milk and honey. He knew it to be good then.
+
+Knowledge is the wing on which we fly to heaven. In this instance, the
+author's flight from London was via the London and South Western Railway
+Company's terminus. Later on he told himself that it was
+proving--veritably--his Waterloo.
+
+Wivernsea's sea wall is known locally as the Esplanade.
+Euphemisms--sacrifices to vanity at the expense of truth--are not
+uncommon objects of the seashore. The walk terminated eastwards with the
+abruptness of a cinematograph view. A private owner claimed the land
+there.
+
+It was not an undisputed claim. Opposition made the owner handle the
+matter with mailed fist. To make his position stronger he erected a high
+wall. If it did not prevent his opponents going further with their
+labial opposition, it effectually prevented them from going further
+along the parade.
+
+The embellishments of the wall were, apparently, the outcome of deep
+thought. Its top was artistically embroidered with spikes and broken
+bottles. This sharply jagged crown was known locally as a
+shivery-freeze. Give the average man an opportunity to mispronounce a
+word and his success may be counted on every time.
+
+Warnings to trespassers and threats of prosecution garnished the wall's
+face with the liberality of almonds in a piece of French rock. The
+everyday man might well be excused a fear that there was danger in
+letting an unguarded eye rest on it.
+
+Amongst others, the wall barred the easterly progress of William
+Masters. In his instance no chagrin resulted. It was a boast of his that
+he possessed views of his own: the things which other people smile at
+unpleasantly and label eccentricities. The owner of the wall was a man
+after his own heart. Undoubtedly a fellow-feeling makes us wondrous
+kind.
+
+It is not good that man should be alone. But the author had not yet
+realized the greatness of that truth. He had been heard to voice the
+nature of his Ultima Thule: undisturbed existence in a cot. Not beside
+the hill, but in the centre of a big field. The situation to be enhanced
+by possession of a shot gun, wherewith to pepper trespassers on his
+solitude.
+
+Strangers who heard Masters speak so, felt inclination to move away a
+pace; were prompted to thoughts of Hanwell and Colney Hatch. His
+friends--another boast of his was the poverty of their number--smiled.
+The idea of Masters hurting a fly appealed to the humour in them.
+
+But, as the blackest hat may have a silver-paper lining, so the wall
+served a good purpose. It acted as a shelter from the one thing which
+disturbed the enjoyment of October in Wivernsea: that wind which is said
+to be good for neither man nor beast. Thoughtful hands had placed a
+comfortable seat within the wall's shelter.
+
+Knowledge of these things had inspired Masters' journey to Wivernsea.
+Where he had stayed before the landlady had rooms vacant. She knew his
+requirements and, hitherto, had suited him admirably. Had even acquired
+the knowledge that his visits to Wivernsea were not prompted solely by a
+desire to hear her talk!
+
+Having done justice to a hastily prepared luncheon, Masters slipped a
+note book into his pocket and sallied forth. His route was easterly, its
+termination his favourite seat at the end of the Parade. There were some
+hours left of warmth and sunshine: the author's intent was to avail
+himself of them.
+
+Seated, he for a time succumbed to the charm of the water as it stole
+out and away. Listened to its lapping as it broadened the ribbon of sand
+at each receding wave. Then, turning a deaf ear to the charm and his
+eyes on to his note book, he buried himself in the particular chapter on
+which he was engaged.
+
+The writer's concentration was not of the plumbless kind. Sound of a
+girl's voice roused him from his depth of thought. It should not be
+gathered from that that the sex had any extraordinary influence over
+him--save when it was very young.
+
+He loved children. Loved them best before the rubbing off of what is
+called their corners: the sweetness of what is actually the innocence we
+all come into the world with--which it seems the business of the world
+to destroy.
+
+Masters guessed from the voice that it belonged to a very little girl.
+Looking up, saw standing in front of him proof of the correctness of his
+guess. A blue-eyed--wide-open-eyed-with-astonishment too at seeing him
+there--little maid. She had turned the parade corner, and in doing so
+came on him unexpectedly. It was plain that she had pulled up suddenly
+at seeing him there. Just as suddenly called out in her clear, childish
+treble:
+
+"Oh! There's someone on your seat, Miss Mivvins!"
+
+The young lady so addressed came into view at that moment, round the
+bushes planted at the corner--the little one having, as usual, run on
+ahead.
+
+Miss Mivvins flushed a little. Becomingly, for otherwise the face might
+have been considered a trifle too pale. The possibility of the child's
+speech being considered rude induced her to say in an undertone:
+
+"Hush, Gracie, dear!"
+
+The speech reached Masters' ears. He was at once struck with the
+governess's singularly sweet voice. When he looked at the place whence
+the voice issued, he thought it the prettiest mouth he had ever set eyes
+on. The little droop of sadness at its corners mellowed rather than took
+away from the sweetness of it.
+
+The lips--ripe red in colour, Cupid's bowed in shape--enchanting as they
+were, did not hold his attention in iron bonds. His glance wandered to
+her eyes and hair. From that inspection was formed an opinion--one which
+he never changed.
+
+The features were the most beautiful and womanly ones he had ever seen.
+Just as sweet a face as a woman with golden hair--that peculiar tint of
+gold which the sun ever seems anxious to search amongst--and
+forget-me-not eyes, can possess at the age of three-and twenty. She was
+good to look upon.
+
+Observation was a trick of Masters' trade. The practice of it enabled
+him to paint a picture in a paragraph. What he saw in one glimpse of
+Miss Mivvins' face was eloquence itself. But of that gentle,
+outward-going radiance in her eyes the merest layman would have been
+sentient. It was the kind of which one felt even a blind man must be
+conscious.
+
+Details appealed to Masters just then. He happened to be engaged at the
+moment on the description of a heroine. When he saw Miss Mivvins his
+difficulty about shaping the book-woman vanished. In flesh and blood she
+stood before him. All he needed was to describe what he saw: she would
+fit in all respects.
+
+Save her name. He was not particularly struck with that.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER II
+
+                 THE CHILD, THE WISE MAN, AND THE LADY
+
+
+Proverbially women love men's approbation. Something of the feeling
+within him must have evidenced itself in Masters' eyes. His attentive
+scrutiny--despite all there was of respect in it--did not, apparently,
+please Miss Mivvins. Possibly, she was inclined to consider his
+admiration rudeness. Anyway she called:
+
+"Come, Gracie!"
+
+Taking the child's little hand in her own neatly gloved one as she
+spoke, the woman turned, evidently intent on walking back in the
+direction whence she had come.
+
+That brought Masters to his feet in a moment--cap in hand, and apology
+in mouth. Full of crudities as was his character, he possessed an
+instinctive courtesy. In all the arraignments for his breaches of
+Society's unwritten laws, impoliteness had never figured. He spoke;
+said:
+
+"Pray do not let me drive you away! Possession may be nine points of the
+law, but we may consider ourselves beyond the pale of its practice here.
+If, as I hear--from lips the truth of which it would be absurd to
+doubt--that this is considered your seat," his smile was not an
+unpleasing one, "I should never forgive myself if trespass of mine
+interfered with the owner's use of it."
+
+"Is that pen you are using," inquired Gracie suddenly, à propos of
+nothing, "one of those you put the ink in at the wrong end, and trickle
+it out of the other?"
+
+A softness blended with the smile on Masters' face and merged into that
+kindly expression of the strong for the weak. It was the successful
+catching of just such tenderness which made Landseer's name figure so
+prominently in the world of Art. As the author looked down at the mite
+from his six-feet altitude, the look on his face was an irresistible
+reminder of a St. Bernard's kindness to a toy terrier.
+
+"You have accurately described it, little woman," he answered. "But it
+does not always trickle when you want it to--though it generally does
+when you don't."
+
+The child looked mystified; evidently deemed further explanation
+necessary. Miss Mivvins was still standing, waiting to go. Masters
+hesitated; looked from one to the other. Politeness made him say:
+
+"I am leaving--pray be seated."
+
+But the woman saw through that. Would have been very high up the fool
+grade indeed had she failed to do so. It really was quite too
+transparent an artifice. When truth is sacrificed on the altar of
+politeness the ceremony needs skill, otherwise the lie becomes even more
+offensive than the act it was to cover.
+
+His little speech induced her to take a step forward; made her say:
+
+"Oh, no! Do not let me drive you away!"
+
+She spoke impulsively; hurriedly. Masters thought with everything in the
+tone that was desirable in a woman's voice. He smiled as he
+expostulated:
+
+"But you remember, surely--it is not many moments ago--you were quite
+willing to allow me to drive you away."
+
+Then she smiled too. Smiles which brought into play mouth and eyes and
+the dimples in her cheeks. From his own face the gravity--some people
+called it Austerity--had already departed. There was a peculiarly
+softening influence about Miss Mivvins. Perhaps his own relaxing was the
+result of that.
+
+"It is a long seat."
+
+He indicated its measurement with a sweep of his hand as he spoke;
+continued:
+
+"Let its length be our way out of the difficulty--it is a long lane that
+has no turning. How will it be if we make it large enough for both?"
+
+It was a tentative sort of invitation. An invisible olive branch to
+which her hand went out. Again she smiled. A moment's hesitation ...
+then seated herself.
+
+From the bag depending by silken cords from her wrist she drew a book.
+Having given the little girl sundry directions as to the assumption of
+preternatural virtue, the woman commenced to read.
+
+Masters resumed his place at the other end of the seat. Had book in hand
+too: manuscript book. He had come out with intent to write; told himself
+that fulfilment was necessary. But he had Gracie to reckon with.
+
+The sharp eyes of that four-year-old little maid were furtively fixed on
+the magic pen. She was trying hard to fulfil the injunction: Be
+good--from the adult standpoint. But gradually the admonition was fading
+from her mind--she was very human.
+
+After a while--a courage-summoning period--the little hands were laced
+behind her, and boldly facing the owner of the attraction, the little
+one addressed him, in a kind of I Dare You voice:
+
+"I could write with a pen like that!"
+
+For a second time the child's voice brought the man's attention away
+from his work.
+
+"Could you?"
+
+He smiled as he spoke. Looked up from his book as he did so. Then,
+infusing a note of doubt in his voice, enquired:
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Y--yes. Quite!"
+
+Then, as an afterthought, possibly by way of redemption of the
+hesitation, the child continued:
+
+"I could if I had one!"
+
+Finding her first venture had not roused the lion, but fearing him a
+little still, she went on defiantly:
+
+"I saw a man fill one once!"
+
+Such a statement as that surely could not fail to crush a mere user of
+the pen! Seeing that astonishment was expected of him, Masters assumed
+an appropriate look of surprise. His wearing of it pleased her mightily.
+
+"Perhaps," he said, "you would like to make quite sure you could write
+with one, eh? Would you like to try with this?"
+
+The blue eyes brightened; she was at his side in a moment. Shyness is
+readily overcome when our summers have not numbered five. Trustfulness
+at that age has rarely been shocked.
+
+Therein, perhaps, lay the secret of the attraction children had for
+Masters: the sweetness of their suspicionless existence. Viewed from the
+standpoint of the after life, when--if we act up to the axioms of the
+world we live in--we trust no man, it is apt to brush across us as
+refreshingly as a gust of country air.
+
+Turning the leaves of his book till he came to a blank page, Masters
+twisted and rested the cover on his knee. So the open leaf was level
+with the intending--eyes-sparkling-with-excitement--writer. Then he gave
+the child his pen.
+
+She drew a capital G--a bright little point of tongue protruding the
+while. The head, too, seemed to follow the movements of the hand. Her
+intent was plain: to write her own name.
+
+That was compassed. It took a little time--entailed a huge expenditure
+of concentrated energy--but she got through with it at last. There
+figured on the paper the words:
+
+                          _Gracie Seton-Carr._
+
+The child's glance came off the page; she moved away a pace. Looked up
+into his eyes, her own flashing like diamonds. Such little things
+please--in that time of happiness when we are little ourselves. After
+drawing a long breath she ejaculated triumphantly:
+
+"There!"
+
+Once more Masters gladdened the little one, by acting as he was expected
+to act. No man on that coast could have worn a larger-sized look of
+astonishment. He cried:
+
+"Won--der--ful!"
+
+A clapping of hands in her glee, and the child danced merrily along to
+the other end of the seat.
+
+"I've written my name with one of those funny squirter pens, Miss
+Mivvins! What do you think of that?"
+
+"I think you have a funny way of keeping your word, Gracie. You
+professed anxiety to finish your castle on the sands, yet you are
+spending your time on the wall!"
+
+"Oh-h-h!"--prolonged and drawn out--"I had forgotten all about it!"
+
+Attention diverted from the pen, the child ran down the steps on to the
+beach. A few minutes after, Masters, looking up, saw her busily at work
+with a spade and pail. The implements had evidently been left there in
+the morning.
+
+That rather proved the excellence of the estimate the author had made of
+Wivernsea out of the season. Castle builders could leave their tools
+uncared for and find them when they returned. Not because of a
+superabundance of honesty around; rather because of the lack of thieves.
+
+The castle creator continued her work; the pail-shaped battlements
+increased in number. She handled bucket and spade with the same
+earnestness, eagerness and engrossment with which she had fingered the
+pen.
+
+Those were methods which appealed to the story-creator. But just now he
+was not working with his own accustomed engrossment, eagerness and
+earnestness. A disturbing element had crept in.
+
+From time to time he glanced towards the other end of the seat. There
+the disturbing element lay: or rather sat. It seemed that there was
+something magnetic about that presence there. He experienced a
+difficulty in keeping his eyes away. Noting the neatness of the dress
+worn by the woman, he could not fail to note too its sombre hue:
+mourning evidently. His lively imagination was busily at work in a
+moment.
+
+For him to weave a complete story with such material, was an easy task.
+A pretty girl occupied the stellar part in it. He portrayed her as a
+motherless one forced to face a hard, cold world. Depicted her seeking a
+living in it as a governess.
+
+That imagination of his had a habit of running away with him. Perhaps
+that was a reason why his fiction had so good a run. His books were
+mostly all of the many-editioned kind. So, neglecting his own story for
+fiction of another kind, the time came of the going down of the sun. The
+tint of the vasty-deep changed: the sea grew greyer. His
+heroine-presumptive closed her book and rose; cried:
+
+"Gracie!"
+
+Seeing that the child's attention had been attracted, she turned, and
+bowing slightly, smilingly wished Masters:
+
+"Good-day!"
+
+From the sands, the little girl waved a vigorous
+cumbered-with-bucket-and-spade good-bye to him. She evidently preferred
+jumping the breakwaters on the way home to the more easy path of the sea
+wall. The two passed altogether from the author's sight. Not altogether
+from his mind.
+
+Good-day! Yes, he felt it had been--distinctly good. Till he looked at
+clean pages, where writing should have been. Even then, despite the
+unfinished chapter, he made no alteration in his verdict.
+
+It had been a good day.
+
+
+
+
+                                CHAPTER III
+
+                          SHE DISCOVERS THE AUTHOR
+
+
+For nearly a week--before and after noon--they met. It was a sheltered
+spot Miss Mivvins walked out to each day. She had selected it on account
+of its freedom from cold winds: there was a seat on which to sit and
+read. At the same time a watchful eye could be kept on her
+playing-on-the-sands charge.
+
+Masters had always used it. Neither now gave it up because of the other.
+Each would have scornfully repudiated a suggestion that the regular
+seeking of it arose from any other reason. For instance, that it could
+be ascribed to the other's presence.
+
+But would the repudiation have been honestly grounded? Cupid alone
+knows. The love-god is a deity enshrined in mystery. He never reveals
+the secrets of the wonders he performs. Were it possible to see the hand
+which lets loose the arrow, probably there would be many a stepping
+aside to avoid it. The sudden striking of the dart makes it so
+deadly--wounds to the heart.
+
+Gracie and the author became fast friends. She was a winsome little
+soul, and children have their own methods of creating friendships.
+Masters met her advances more than half-way: was as fond of children as
+he was of flowers.
+
+His friends--the nice friends who feel privileged to say nasty
+things--by reason of that fondness, professed to see in it a chance of
+his redemption. They admitted a possibility of his becoming humanized
+some day: said there was at least hope for him.
+
+Beyond a Good Morning, and occasionally a remark on one of the tenses of
+the weather--past, present or future--the meetings were bare of
+conversation, so far as the adults were concerned.
+
+Masters would have been more than glad to talk. Perhaps natural
+nervousness prevented his setting the conversational ball rolling. For
+he admired his companion of the seat with a fervent admiration--unable
+to label the feeling, as yet, by any other name.
+
+Her presence did not disturb him now in his seclusion. She seemed to be
+in keeping with his thoughts. His thoughts of her harmonized with the
+surroundings--she belonged to them.
+
+A vague sort of wonder took possession of him; how it was that he had
+never missed her--never known what was lacking. The more he saw of her,
+the more deep his admiration grew.
+
+Admiration is the kind of thing which develops rapidly, once it
+germinates. In this instance the seed had thrown deep roots. Masters'
+heart seemed likely to prove fruitful soil.
+
+With Gracie he stood well. That, he felt, was a making of headway; for
+the governess unquestionably loved her charge. On the principle of love
+me, love my dog, he was acting wisely--apart from the pleasure it gave
+him--in this cultivation of the little one's affection.
+
+When the child discovered his ability to manufacture stories she
+instantly--the exacting nature of her sex in its dealings with man
+manifested itself even at that early age--demanded to be told one.
+
+That was the introduction of the wedge's thin end: brought about a
+little change in the current of the elders' conversation. The lady in
+black came out of the ice-bound silence--fringed by a frigid Good
+Morning and Good Afternoon; saying:
+
+"You must not let Gracie worry you."
+
+The lashes went up as she spoke and he got a good view of those lovely
+eyes of hers. They held him spellbound. The evident admiration in his
+glance caused the lashes to fall, and he, released from the momentary
+thraldom, exclaimed:
+
+"Worry! How could she?"
+
+"She is a perfect little glutton for stories. Once you indulge her, she
+will do her best to make your life unbearable with her clamour for more.
+With food of that sort within reach she is a regular Oliver Twist."
+
+A gratified little laugh--he thought he saw the door to Friendship
+opening a little wider--accompanied his answer:
+
+"Oh, story-telling is in my particular line! I am full of fiction to the
+brim!"
+
+She reciprocated his laugh, and as she picked up, to resume, her book,
+said:
+
+"Well, I have warned you! The consequences be on your own head."
+
+"I am moved to disregard your warning! Gracie is so excellent a
+listener. That is so flattering, you know." Then turning to the child,
+he continued: "Now, run on to the sands and finish your castle, little
+woman, before the tide reaches it. When it can no longer withstand Old
+Ocean's assaults and is washed away, come back. Then I will tell you
+what became of Jack after the fairy had rescued him from the
+three-headed giant."
+
+The child was sitting on his knee with her arms round his neck. Between
+the kisses she was giving him, said:
+
+"You dear old thing! You are the very nicest, delightfullest,
+beautifullest story-teller I ever met."
+
+"I am dethroned then?" The observation from Miss Mivvins. "I used to be
+told that."
+
+"Y-y-yes. But you never told me tales like Prince Charlie's."
+
+Prince Charlie was a character in one of the stories Masters had told
+the child. A prince who had rescued innumerable princesses from giants,
+ogres and demons. Instantly it had pleased the listener to christen the
+narrator after the hero.
+
+All her people, she informed him gravely, she christened out of stories.
+It was much nicer than calling them by their real names. They were so
+much prettier and lots easier to remember--didn't he think so?
+
+Yes, he had made answer. He quite thought that Prince Charlie was an
+improvement on his own name. But Gracie betrayed no anxiety to know what
+that was. To her henceforth he was Prince Charlie. That was quite
+sufficient--she was a godmother of the most self-satisfied type.
+
+Turning to Miss Mivvins the child continued, with a trace of reproach in
+her voice--she felt she had been defrauded:
+
+"Besides, your giants never had three heads!"
+
+A trinity of that description--unity is strength--appeared an
+unanswerable argument; seemed to her to clinch the matter. She climbed
+down from Masters' knee, and jumped her way down the steps to the sands,
+with bucket and spade rattling in her little hand.
+
+As she disappeared, Masters took his courage in both hands; a trifle
+nervously continued the conversation:
+
+"I shall have to prescribe a course of Grimm's _Fairy Tales_, if you
+wish to resume your position as story-teller-in-chief."
+
+His speech was at random. The ice was broken; they had spoken; he did
+not want the coldness of silence to freeze it all over again. Having got
+in the thin edge of the wedge he proposed to drive it right home--if
+possible. Hence his speech.
+
+Miss Mivvins laughed. The child liked him--so did she. Fearful of
+driving her away, he had not attempted to force conversation. She had
+curled up a trifle because of his reserve--hence they had spoken but
+little. Unknown to themselves their communication had been more subtle
+than that of words, perhaps had paved the way for them. They came easily
+enough now.
+
+"You also," he said, "seem to have a taste for fiction of a pronounced
+type. I see you are reading one of my books."
+
+"Your books?" Her query was uttered in a tone of surprise. "Oh, no! This
+came down from Mudie's with other volumes yesterday."
+
+"Oh, I don't doubt that."
+
+He laughed openly at her concern--a hearty, resounding laugh, a trifle
+loud, but with a pleasant honest ring in it; continued:
+
+"I don't doubt that the library people acquired it honestly. My claim
+was not made in a possessory sense. I meant that my name figures on the
+title page."
+
+She looked at him blankly for a moment, so great was her surprise. Then,
+the truth dawning on her, she said:
+
+"You! You--are the author?"
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER IV
+
+                           THE DANGER SIGNAL
+
+
+That she should meet a real live author, the writer of the book she was
+reading, was a coincidence strange enough to take Miss Mivvins' breath
+away. Masters saw her wonderment, smiled at it.
+
+"Is the fact," he asked, "so difficult a thing to reconcile with my
+appearance?"
+
+"Oh, no, no! How awfully rude you must think me! I meant--I mean--that I
+expected the author of this book to be----"
+
+Then she paused. Did not quite know what she expected or how to express
+herself; added lamely:
+
+"To be much older."
+
+"Really! I am sorry I don't come up to your age standard. Age has its
+privileges, but wisdom is not always its perquisite. Why should an
+author be necessarily old? Surely youth is pardonable?"
+
+She--a woman famous in her own particular circle for the coolness of her
+tongue--could have kicked herself. Was saying, in her unwonted
+nervousness, all the things she would rather have left unsaid. Angry
+with herself, she blurted out:
+
+"There is not, of course, any earthly reason why. It was purely my utter
+stupidity."
+
+He smiled at the flush on her cheek; a smile conjured up by his
+admiration of it; said merrily:
+
+"Here have I been peacocking around, with a sort of metaphorical feather
+in my cap. Pampering my vanity, applying the flattering unction to my
+soul--rubbing it in several times per diem--that no author of my age has
+turned out so many volumes. Lo! with one breath you blow that feather
+clean away."
+
+She could not resist laughing at his mock despair. Became at her ease
+once more; said:
+
+"Indeed not! I don't know what prompted me to say what I did. As to this
+book----"
+
+"No! Don't! Please don't give me your opinion of it!"
+
+His interruption was a continuance of his burlesque melodramatic style.
+She did not quite know how to take him; said:
+
+"You mean you would not value my opinion?"
+
+That was disconcerting. Sobered him in a minute. He knew quite well the
+kind of value he would be likely to put on any opinion of
+hers--concerning himself.
+
+"Oh, no!" His answer was spoken earnestly. "I do not mea----"
+
+But she interrupted him. In her nervousness felt that whilst her tongue
+was in action it would help to keep the helm the right way; said:
+
+"Why should you? A stranger's opinion would necessarily be valueless.
+You know nothing of me."
+
+The deafness of those who will not hear is proverbial. The underlying
+earnestness in the tone of his reply should have warned her.
+
+"Aren't you going just a trifle too far?" he asked. "We are not quite
+strangers. True, I know nothing of you--except that you are Miss
+Mivvins."
+
+An irresistible smile accompanied his words. His smile--and his laugh
+too--were capable of creating many friends. But he did not allow them
+to. His views on the subject of friendship were cynical in the extreme.
+
+His smile was infectious. Once more those alluring dimples which he had
+noticed at their first meeting deepened in her face.
+
+"It is distinctly more my misfortune than my fault," he continued, "that
+I know so little of you. May I say--with an absence of fear of your
+thinking me impertinent--that I should like, much like, to know more of
+you?"
+
+The flush, that becoming flush, on her cheek again. The eyes were
+fringed over by those long lashes of hers as she cast them groundwards.
+Just a blend of trouble in her look as she queried:
+
+"Really?"
+
+He liked the pink showing on the white. Colours inspire some men.
+Perhaps the combination in her face inspired him. Anyway, there was more
+vigour and determination in his voice as he answered:
+
+"Yes."
+
+She, dallying, as a woman will, quite well knew that there was a spark.
+That it would burst into flame, chose she to fan it; gained time by
+asking:
+
+"Why?"
+
+He vaulted on to his hobby horse. The question was a stirrup helping him
+to the saddle.
+
+"Because I--may I say it?--hail you in a measure as a kindred soul."
+
+She lifted her eyes; he could not fail to read the astonishment filling
+them; continued:
+
+"You are here in October, and you don't look bored; don't look as if
+life held no further charm for you. You do not follow the fashionable
+decrying of the place simply because it is out of fashion--_because_ it
+is October."
+
+She smiled. Encouraged by it, he continued, in the same strain:
+
+"You are always alone, yet you create the impression that you are happy.
+You don't seem to sigh for bands of music, to hanker after a crowded
+promenade. You find existence possible without a shoal of people to help
+you pass your time."
+
+Her smile broadened into a laugh. This time at herself--at his
+description of her; she asked:
+
+"And those--shall I call them unusual?--characteristics in a woman
+interest you?"
+
+"Amazingly!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+She put the question with a little nervousness, bred of that eagerness
+of his.
+
+"Because--well, let me say by sheer force of contrast. In those
+respects, Heaven be thanked, you are not as other women."
+
+The amused look had not left her face. It lingered in the upward curve
+of the corners of her eyes.
+
+"So you prefer eccentric women, then?"
+
+She could not resist just a trace of mischief in the tone of her query.
+He answered:
+
+"Heaven forefend! I see nothing eccentric in the attributes I have
+allotted to you. They are refreshingly good to a thirsty soul."
+
+The amusement and mischief tones left her voice. She asked demurely:
+
+"Are you thirsty?"
+
+"Parched! I confess I am. I have just escaped from the dead level of dry
+conventionality. That arid desert: the Sahara of Society. Its womenkind
+are my abomination."
+
+She looked a little annoyed. As if not appreciating his description.
+
+"I have heard it rumoured, Mr. Masters, that you fly from London to
+escape Society's attentions."
+
+"And for once the many-tongued is not a lying jade. I suppose all of us,
+every man and woman, are more or less eccentric."
+
+"Put it that we, most of us, have bees in our bonnets."
+
+"Precisely. The buzzing of my particular insect is the artificial life
+of modern Society. I just loathe it; never go out for that reason. Fly
+from London? Yes; I own up; I do. As fast as an express can wing me. Fly
+to escape the inanities with which the cup of social life is
+overflowing."
+
+"Balls, parties----"
+
+"And things of that sort are my pet horrors."
+
+She smiled at the expression of his disgust; his manner of expressing
+it; said:
+
+"I seem to be shaking a red rag at a bull!"
+
+"If," he continued, "Society is the product of civilization I am an
+untutored savage. Not an ungrateful one, mark you, but one thankful for
+his savagery. Afternoon teas, flower shows, and the hundred and one
+idiotic things which go to make up the ordinary every-day life in London
+ought to be abolished by a drastic Act of Parliament."
+
+Her smile merged into laughter. She had gauged his capacity for
+exaggeration by this time. The beginning of her understanding of him was
+setting in. Her laugh over, she said:
+
+"I think you are very drastic."
+
+"I hope not!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because if you think so, I have been mistaken. I have formed a wrong
+estimate of your character if you care for those things."
+
+"And supposing I did? Would it be, think you--unwomanly?"
+
+"As the world wags? No. On the contrary. The absolute quintessence of
+womanliness in nine hundred and ninety-nine women out of a possible
+thousand."
+
+"But----"
+
+"Ah! that is it!"
+
+"But if I did care for all and singular the things you object to so
+much?"
+
+"I should be sorry--really sorry--that I had spoken as I have done."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because it would, must, savour of impertinence. We, each of us, have a
+right to our own opinions. I should just hate to think that I have been
+forcing mine on any one; it would be a painful thing. Opinions, like
+boots, should fit the wearer--neither too narrow nor too wide, and
+possibly an allowance for stretching a point. To force an opinion would
+be a modernized version of the iron boot the torturers used to handle in
+the Inquisition days."
+
+"But you expressed yourself"--she smiled at the recollection of
+it--"very strongly just now."
+
+"Because I thought we were more or less on the same plane; were thinking
+in common. I hoped so."
+
+"Tell me, will you, why you thought me different from other women:
+thought as you did of me?"
+
+"Oh, come! Isn't that now--don't you think that rather hard on me?"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"To put such a question as that. Calling on me to tell you why I think."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Think! If I could bring myself to lie you would not like it. Yet,
+supposing I said something to offend you?"
+
+"Why should you?"
+
+"Because of my ignorance. I would not for worlds--knowingly. You would
+know that I should not mean to."
+
+"Very well, then. Why should I take offence where none is intended?"
+
+He hesitated a moment. Plainly saw the danger-signal flying; then he
+spoke:
+
+"You are a woman."
+
+She tossed her head at that. There was no mistaking the tone in which
+she said:
+
+"Thank you!"
+
+"There!... Proof positive! I won't speak; I won't risk it. I am most
+anxious not to offend you, and you shan't force my hand."
+
+She tapped impatiently with the toe of her shoe.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER V
+
+                           PLAYING WITH FIRE
+
+
+Miss Mivvins was annoyed; the impatient tapping was evidence of it. Not
+that a little exhibition of temper in any way detracted from her
+personal appearance. On the contrary, the air of petulance heightened
+her charms.
+
+"You are just like a man!"
+
+Her speech was accompanied by another toss of her shapely head.
+
+"Isn't that twisting things round? You mean that he never gives a reason
+for what he says or does?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Resumption of tattoo with her foot on the ground. It made him exclaim:
+
+"I knew I was right! What if I tell you that I am a mind reader?"
+
+"I would not be a bit surprised!"
+
+He was: greatly. Could not understand what she meant; queried:
+
+"You wouldn't?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I am--to hear you say it. Why?"
+
+"Because in this book of yours I am reading"--she held it up--"I see you
+believe in palmistry."
+
+"Come, come!" He was genuine in his expostulation. "I make one of my
+characters believe in it."
+
+"Then you do not?"
+
+She had him in a corner; was merciless. He tried to wriggle out; said:
+
+"I did not say so."
+
+It was an infecund effort on his part. She pinned him in still further;
+was that kind of woman.
+
+"What does that mean? That you do and you do not?"
+
+There was nothing for him but to fence; he answered:
+
+"Yes and No."
+
+It did not in any way extricate him from his difficulty. She continued:
+
+"You are a complete enigma."
+
+"There is no prize offered for the solution."
+
+He endeavoured to speak lightly, to bring the conversation back to the
+humorous line it had left; continued:
+
+"I have known people take quite an interest in enigmas. Do you?"
+
+She changed the subject. Kept away from where there was a treading on
+dangerous ground; felt the ice getting thin; said:
+
+"I gather that this palmist character of yours professes to read the
+past, but does not venture on prophecy?"
+
+"I venture on prophecy now!"
+
+He spoke suddenly, rising as he did so. Picking up his books, and--for
+the first time--quietly possessing himself of her bag, continued:
+
+"That rapidly travelling cloud, at present looking very little larger
+than a man's hand, coming from the south, is full of rain. It will burst
+before we are back in the town, unless we hurry. Gracie! Gracie!"
+
+The little girl came running in response to his call. All three, for the
+first time, walked homewards together. A student of human nature might
+have seen in it a beginning of things.
+
+"I am living in Marine Terrace."
+
+He was describing the situation of his lodgings. Waited for her to
+respond, and then asked:
+
+"Have you far to go?"
+
+"Oh, not so far as you have; little more than half-way. Ivy Cottage; on
+the front. Do you know----"
+
+"That pretty little bungalow with the creeper over the porch? Before we
+reach the big houses?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+He cast an eye over his shoulder at the still distant cloud, gauging the
+time of its breaking; said:
+
+"When the rain comes it will last, I fear. That will mean confinement to
+the house."
+
+"I fancy so, too. The local weatherwise are predicting it also. You are
+not the only prophet. 'Corns are shooting and roomatiz is bad.'"
+
+He laughed at her excellent imitation of the dialect ruling the language
+of the people; then said:
+
+"May I be personal? How are you off for reading matter?"
+
+"Oh, Mudie's have sent me down an absolutely abominable selection.
+With"--a twinkle escaped from the corner of her eye--"with the exception
+of that one of yours."
+
+"I won't gratify you with even a smile of approval at so callous a
+joke," he said coolly. "To trample on my feelings so is positively
+inhuman. Still, that 'exception' emboldens me."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"That finding you interested in one of my books, I want you to let me--I
+want you to favour me by accepting from me a set?"
+
+"A set?"
+
+"I have been guilty of five others." Mock despair was in his tone.
+"Accept my contrite apologies."
+
+"Five others!"
+
+"I have to plead guilty to that number. Heinous, isn't it?"
+
+"Oh, I did not mean that."
+
+"And so young too!"
+
+"Really, Mr. Masters!" The flush was being worn again. "You are, really,
+too bad; raking up old grievances!"
+
+"I would like you to try and think there is a substratum of good."
+
+She ignored his speech, rather the significance in the tone of its
+delivery; said:
+
+"I did not know--I confess openly, you see. This makes but the third of
+yours I have read."
+
+"Then there is a possibility of interest being left in the three you
+have not read. Let the weather be my excuse for forcing them on you."
+
+"As if an excuse were needed! Pray do not speak of your kindness so!"
+
+"Then--I have some work I must finish this afternoon for the post--may I
+bring them to you this evening?"
+
+She hesitated a moment. Induced to do so by a thought of the unwisdom of
+playing with fire. His hyper-sensitive nature made him shrink from that
+hesitation, to nervously say:
+
+"I beg your pardon. I mean I will make a parcel of them and send them up
+to you."
+
+The note of pain in his voice was so plain that any question of her
+wisdom--or want of it--vanished. She was moved to put her hand on his
+arm; to say:
+
+"Don't deprive me of half the pleasure of the gift. Please bring them
+yourself."
+
+It was a pretty little speech. Prettily spoken. No answering word came
+to his lips, but the look of gladness in his eyes was eloquent. Eloquent
+enough to make her mentally pause again and ask herself: was she acting
+altogether wisely?
+
+Miss Mivvins was sailing under false colours. Was not in a position to
+haul them down, or fly her own. But she found him entertaining
+and--and--and very pleasant to talk to. She left it at that.
+
+She could not afterwards remember much of what they talked about on
+their walk along the wall homewards. But she was conscious of spending a
+very pleasant afternoon; that it had passed away all too quickly. The
+most entertaining conversations are usually those which flow so smoothly
+that we forget to note the landmarks and stepping-stones on the way.
+
+She was in a quandary: dared not reveal to him her true self. She had
+learnt enough of him to know that if she ran up her own flag, one glance
+at the masthead would mean his sheering right away.
+
+She was not at all anxious that that should happen; did not want to lose
+him. She had grown to--to--to more than like him. Why, she asked herself
+petulantly, why could he not be as other men?
+
+The rain held off till they reached her gate. There they said good-bye,
+shaking hands for the first time. The touch thrilled them both. As an
+outcome he saw possibilities; felt what their meeting might possibly
+lead to. It was a pleasant feeling. Things were coloured by it--colour
+of the rose.
+
+Her good-bye was spoken lightly. Instinctively she tried to counteract
+that thrill. Yet there was a lingering tone in her voice as she said,
+finally:
+
+"Till eight o'clock."
+
+Then came Gracie's turn. He stooped down, lifted and kissed her. She
+said--
+
+"Good-bye, Prince Charlie. I shan't see you in the evening because I go
+to bed at half-past seven."
+
+"My word! Half-past seven! How late for a little girl to sit up!"
+
+She exclaimed indignantly at so gross an insult:
+
+"I'm not a little girl! I'm nearly five!"
+
+Her indignation was a fleeting one. He held her away; threw her up in
+the air till she screamed with the delight of the pleasant fear. Then
+caught and kissed her and set the mite on her feet again.
+
+So he dealt with the child. Then, raising his hat, gave a final kindly
+smile in the direction of the governess; nodded and said a final
+good-bye.
+
+Such was their parting. Each was full of thoughts of the other. He
+walked home wonderingly, thinking, why--for what reason--she had said
+eight o'clock. It sounded so--then he laughed at his stupid thought.
+
+So life touches life a moment, thrills and bids it stay--as two drops of
+water in a peaceful stream may touch for an instant and in the next be
+parted by the waving reeds.
+
+What of after meetings? Would they be guided to one another by that
+strange fate that we call Destiny?
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER VI
+
+                           A STRANGE REQUEST
+
+
+As a weather prophet Masters proved more reliable than those who fill a
+like mission on the daily papers.
+
+It rained heavily all the afternoon. His landlady when she brought in
+his tea remarked that it was pouring cats and dogs--the latter,
+presumably, of the Skye terrier breed.
+
+A temporary clearance of the weather came about in the evening. Masters
+was glad; he went to Ivy Cottage. The bungalow-like building was
+curiously situate in its own square piece of grass land, fronting the
+sea. The back of the house looked on to the road leading to the railway
+station a little distance away. Admission to the cottage was gained by
+doors at back and front of it.
+
+The house agent entrusted with the letting of the place had described it
+as possessed of advantages not to be passed over lightly. There was
+one--an unsurpassed convenience in the matter of not missing a
+train--that certainly was undeniable and evident.
+
+So close was the back of the house to the railway that from the windows
+an approaching train could be seen in time enough to allow of easy
+walking to catch it. Masters walked up the gravel path to the front
+door. Touched the push of the bell.... A trim maid-servant responded. He
+enquired:
+
+"Miss Mivvins--is she within?"
+
+The girl started. Hesitated as she looked at him
+closely--doubtfully--for a moment. Then opened a side door in the hall,
+requesting him to enter and be seated.
+
+It was a charmingly arranged room to which he was thus introduced.
+Evidenced woman in every insignificant little detail; her gentle touch
+was visible in all things. He thought of the touch of one woman in
+particular.
+
+Miss Mivvins' spirit seemed to have impressed itself in every fold of
+the curtains; in all the quiet harmony of colouring; in the inexpensive
+simplicity of the whole--as distinct from cheapness.
+
+Expensive simplicity often stamps the quality of a room; it was not to
+be seen here. There was nothing cheap about the furnishing; nothing
+meretricious; nothing to catch the eye. Nothing of the enamel paint and
+varnish description; all in that apartment was plainly and simply what
+it represented itself to be; its keynote: truth.
+
+Masters was astonished. Because he had no idea that such signs of
+refinement existed in Wivernsea. But then he knew its lodging houses
+only--where the great god is Aspinall and an uneasy chair the only
+attempt at comfort.
+
+He sat some moments waiting. Whilst doing so, he thought again of the
+curious way in which the maid had looked at him. Perhaps Miss Mivvins
+was in a less comfortable place than he had thought. He had judged by
+the freedom she enjoyed, that no possible harm could result from his
+visit to her. Was he wrong?
+
+Perhaps that accounted for her hesitation, when he had suggested calling
+with the books. What a fool he had been, not to think of that! Perhaps
+she would get into trouble by reason of his visit to her employer's
+house.
+
+The more he thought of this the more uncomfortable he became. As a
+result of his deliberations, determined that he would make his stay a
+short and formal one. There could surely be no harm accrue to her from
+that.
+
+The rustle of a woman's dress warned him of her approach. Presently she
+entered. The moment his eyes rested on her he was amazed: she was
+dressed so perfectly. No scrap of colour; no scintillation of a jewel.
+
+He had a mere man's eye for woman's dress--sensible of the tout
+ensemble, not of detail--but he did not despise it. It seemed fitting to
+him that graceful women should be gracefully attired.
+
+All harmony was grateful to his soul; it did not seem unnatural for Miss
+Mivvins to be gowned in accordance with her beauty. Still he experienced
+astonishment, grave astonishment, when she entered.
+
+For the life of him he could not have defined the impression which took
+hold of him. But he knew that her gown was of some soft, rich, silken,
+costly texture. Resultant upon that was the belief that her place must
+be an easier one than he had begun to think it.
+
+The extension of her hand to him. Once more with it in his own, he felt
+thrilled. That feeling and his previous resolve to hurry away did not
+blend well. The thrill remained; the resolve faded.
+
+He produced the books he had promised to bring with him. On the fly-leaf
+of each he had written her name; beneath it had appended his signature.
+So many people bothered him for autograph copies of his books, that it
+was a pardonable vanity if he had begun to think there was something
+around his signature which enhanced the value of his works. So he had
+penned the words, _With kindest regards, from the Author_, between her
+name and his own.
+
+At sight of what he had written she laughed. At first, gently; a
+gentleness which passed into real hearty mirth. Then, catching sight of
+his face, the laugh died away ashamedly! Had she whipped him he could
+not have looked more hurt. His hyper-sensitive nature was suffering.
+
+That laughter acted on Masters as if the ceiling had opened and a shower
+of cold water had fallen--his face showed it. To be the subject of mirth
+was a novelty to him. He was glad that that was so. Felt that it was not
+a pleasant sensation to experience. That a very little of it went an
+extremely long way.
+
+She flushed with annoyance at her own rudeness; with shame for having
+wounded the feelings of her visitor. He had not the faintest idea why
+she laughed, of course; want of knowledge so often leads to
+misunderstanding. She said hurriedly:
+
+"I hope you do not--oh, how can I explain what I was laughing at? Mr.
+Masters, don't, pray don't--I beg of you--think I was rude--intended to
+be rude--or that I was laughing at anything even remotely connected with
+these books, which, believe me, I shall always value, always prize."
+
+That earnest humble little speech of hers did not sponge away the look
+from his face. In her eagerness to acquit herself she placed her hand on
+his arm--it was for the second time that day. It was a habit of hers
+when moved. Was quite an innocent gesture; but there was--in his
+estimation, anyway--a distinct piquancy about its naturalness.
+
+"Oh--Mr. Masters!"
+
+She got as far as that. Then stood at a loss for words. She had spoken
+in such dead earnest tones that it would have been absurd to think her
+lying. Finding her tongue again, she continued:
+
+"Pray, pray believe me! I was stupid, I know, but don't be so hard as to
+think me capable of insulting you. Don't! Please, don't!"
+
+His forgiveness was hers that moment. The wonder remained what she could
+have laughed at--but all else was forgotten. She had looked into his
+eyes--a pretty woman's trick, mostly always successful. When performed
+with such eyes as Miss Mivvins' failure was absolutely impossible.
+
+"I don't think you rude. Don't think you insulting. I could not think
+any ill thing of you if I tried."
+
+She had badly wanted to hear just some such thing. But there was that in
+the tone in which he spoke it that made her flush again. She drew in her
+breath; drew back a little.
+
+"I am so glad!"
+
+Miss Mivvins spoke impetuously--nervously. She to be nervous! And that,
+too, in speaking to such a boyish, ingenuous individual as was Masters!
+It was quite too absurd! She continued:
+
+"I--I should not like you to think badly of me."
+
+She was obviously ill at ease--the obviousness was the worst part of it.
+She knew that herself; knew quite well. It was because he believed in
+her! Because he trusted her so implicitly; had an almost childlike faith
+in her.
+
+With all the other men she had known, on whom she had exerted the power
+of her fascination, her woman's ways and wiles had seemed fair and
+fitting. They were but part of the game, and understood by both sides of
+it. The men had been men of the world--her world--armed and armoured
+against her coquetry and charm.
+
+Flirtation in those instances had been carried to the point of a fine
+art--it was part of the life she lived. But it had been flirtation, pure
+and simple. Though it was amusing enough while it lasted, it had been
+fencing with blunt points.
+
+No one had any wounds--not a scratch. Experience had taught them all to
+play the game skilfully. No one had been deceived into taking things
+seriously. No soul was a scrap the worse.
+
+But Masters was of another world than hers. Superficiality seemed
+unknown to him; he put his heart into what he said and did. Playing with
+life was evidently a thing unknown to him; he was in earnest; always
+would be; that was his temperament. Honest himself, he believed her to
+be likewise.
+
+What a character! Of course it appealed to her--she would not have been
+a woman if it had not. He would face her woman's weapons--even her most
+innocent little deceptions--unsuspecting; unarmed. To shower on him the
+full force of her artillery would be grossly unfair.
+
+She was constrained to throw off the conventional. To don the mantle of
+guilelessness--such as he wore himself. He made it impossible for her to
+act otherwise. But the experience was quite a new one to her; it was the
+novelty that made her nervous. To be trusted--implicitly--was
+delightfully disconcerting.
+
+Her manner filled Masters with wonder. The key to the mysterious
+nervousness was not in his possession. Again there flitted across his
+mind the idea that it arose from his visit to her employer's house.
+
+His resolution to stay but a little time occurred to him. It would be
+best to go. Yet he abhorred the idea of so speedy a parting; if only he
+could----He paused. Thought a moment. Risked it; said tentatively:
+
+"The rain has ceased. It is damp below but bright above."
+
+A pause. His reference to the weather seemed out of place. She did not
+know the difficulty he was experiencing in screwing his courage to the
+sticking place. He continued:
+
+"I am walking to the end of the parade and back."
+
+Having voiced as much, his conversational powers failed him. He somehow
+hoped that she would suggest joining him in his walk. That his ignorance
+of women was of vast magnitude was evidenced by the nature of that hope.
+
+He was very transparent--so much so that there was no difficulty in
+guessing his thoughts. She smiled. Ingenuousness was scarcely the word
+for him! He should have known the impossibility of her offering to
+accompany him, however much she might desire to do so. As she did not
+speak he went even further, saying, with nervous awkwardness:
+
+"It is a warm evening--will you walk with me?"
+
+The smile left her face and her eyes opened wide. She was startled at
+the suddenness of his request. Still more at the nature of it. Then
+remembered the nature of the man. Felt too that there was owing to him
+something for that unkind laugh of hers. Then there was the trend of her
+own feelings! After a moment she tossed discretion to the winds; said:
+
+"I shall be glad to--if you wish it!"
+
+The words spoken, she was amazed at their utterance. Her ready
+acquiescence pleased him. It voiced that honesty he thought so precious
+in her, which was so sadly lacking in other women. He suspected that
+another member of her sex would have raised scruples, merely that he
+might flatter himself that he had overcome them.
+
+The absence of such coquetry in Miss Mivvins was refreshing--refreshing
+as the rays of the sun after electric light. So he likened her womanhood
+to other women's. He little knew what a whited sepulchre she felt
+herself to be. His admiration of what she did not possess positively
+hurt her.
+
+Leaving the room for outdoor covering, she presently returned with a
+long warm cloak and her hat. Had got them from the hall; came back with
+them over her arm. Having agreed to accompany him, she lost no time.
+
+He assisted her to put on the cloak: an expensive, fur-lined wrap. He
+could not but notice that as, with trembling fingers--a nervousness born
+of his touch of her--he helped to button the garment down the front.
+
+Microbes multiply in darkness; sunlight kills them. Her natural manner,
+open as day, crushed the germ of suspicion. They left the house and
+walked along the parade: in the direction of the seat at the end of it.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VII
+
+                            READING THE HAND
+
+
+The moon was now shining, now obscured. A capricious, gusty wind played
+fantastic tricks with dark clouds across its face. But by the time the
+eastern end of the sea wall was reached the Goddess of Night had risen
+clear; was shining brightly. She silvered and lighted up the rippling
+waters: jewelling it as only the moon can.
+
+"Shall we rest for a few minutes?"
+
+The suggestion was Masters'. Not that he was tired. But he had that on
+his mind to unload, which he felt would be easier of utterance sitting
+down.
+
+They sat. After an awkward interval--she was afraid to help him--he
+spoke again. Not without difficulty. Love-making in his novels he had
+found the easiest part of his writing. He was finding reality a steed of
+a totally different colour.
+
+In an imaginative man it is possible for imagination to be more real
+than reality; just as a painting may give a truer impression than a
+photograph. To Masters, just now, reality seemed frigid and limited. He
+felt himself bound; tied down to--and by--hard-and-fast lines.
+
+Then again there was the horrible uncertainty: he was not sure. It was
+necessary to feel his way. He had heard her laugh once. He did not need
+a second edition of that--with himself filling the rôle of laughee. He
+had no desire to figure as a larger-sized ass than was possible. Putting
+stripes on a donkey does not make a zebra of it. He said slowly:
+
+"I have been here, to Wivernsea, regularly for years past. Have sat on
+this seat scores and scores of times. Now--I shall never forget
+Wivernsea or this seat."
+
+That was his heavily-shod method of feeling his way; of nearly putting
+his foot into it. She afforded him no fragment of assistance; being a
+woman, of course help was not to be expected of her. Woman is an enigma;
+sympathetic to the point of soft-as-silk, heart bleeding; yet there are
+times when she finds pleasure in a man's agony. Masters' speech simply
+elicited the query:
+
+"Why?"
+
+He gathered boldness from the sheer impudence of her question. Felt that
+it was impossible that she could have misunderstood; said:
+
+"I shall always link the place--and the seat--with thoughts of you."
+
+Her impudence had limits. She could not affect to misunderstand that.
+Besides, the accelerated beating of her heart warned her. She must
+change the subject.
+
+"The last time we were sitting here, Mr. Masters, you hurriedly broke
+into the subject of palmistry, with wise prophecies of bad weather."
+
+"Realized prophecies! Give me that credit!"
+
+"Certainly; you deserve it! But tell me now--quite seriously--do you
+believe in palmistry?"
+
+The dexterous turning of the subject annoyed him. He was, however,
+compelled to reply to her question; said:
+
+"Seriously? Well, to an extent--yes."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Oh, don't think I go too far! Don't for a moment suppose that I am
+pretending that the geography of the future, mountains, plains--the ups
+and downs of life--can be studied from the map of the hand."
+
+"And yet I have heard----"
+
+"Charlatans profess to do so? Oh, yes; scores of them. I can understand
+a nimble-witted, half-a-guinea--or a guinea if she can get it--Regent
+Street sibyl professing so. That is fraud; absolute downright fraud. But
+I believe that much of a man's or woman's temperament, disposition, call
+it what you will, can be plainly read from the lines of the hand."
+
+"Read mine."
+
+She spoke impulsively. Persuasively too, the while she pulled off her
+glove. Palmistry, if it does not truly predict fate, is ofttimes
+responsible for much of its direction.
+
+To hold her warm little hand in his--she had kept it close within the
+recesses of her muff--was much too good an opportunity to let slip. He
+bent over; spent quite a time on the study of the lines on her palm. He
+had only the light of the moon to work by; perhaps that accounted for
+the time expenditure; or perhaps he--well, anyway, he was holding her
+hand all the while.
+
+During the task--it was a silent one--he was tempted, sore, to put his
+lips in the warm centre of what he held. Possibly she divined that;
+gathered it perhaps from the trembling of his fingers as they grasped
+her own. Stiffening a little, she queried:
+
+"Well?"
+
+Her voice was as the application of a brake; pulled him up. Tightening
+his hold on himself he loosened his tongue.
+
+"Temperament first," he answered.
+"Passionate--wilful--affectionate--hasty----"
+
+The reading was wound up at that point. The cataloguer paused, as it
+were, in the middle of his list. In astonishment she asked:
+
+"Why do you stop? Is that all you can read?"
+
+"No--no. But my belief--my faith--is shaken!"
+
+Just a faint tremor in the voice--it was not unnoticed by him--as she
+asked:
+
+"Faith? In what?"
+
+He fenced. Did not like to shape words around what he thought he read.
+The truth is not always pleasant. So it was that he answered:
+
+"Palmistry as a science."
+
+The woman's voice was steadied again. There was a ring of merriment in
+it, ridiculing his seriousness, as she said--
+
+"Why this shaken faith? Because of what you read in my hand?"
+
+"M'yes."
+
+"Tell me----"
+
+"No. What I have read--the indications--I know to be wrong. This is a
+rude shock to my credence! I shall never again believe in palmistry's
+infallibility!"
+
+"Tell me?"
+
+She spoke impatiently; her curiosity was well aroused. Scrutinizing her
+hand with interest; wholly disbelieving him, she said imperatively:
+
+"What do you read?"
+
+"There seemed to be indicated characteristics there, the exact opposite
+of those you possess."
+
+"Tell me?"
+
+"No."
+
+She drew her hand away a trifle angrily: obstinacy opposed to curiosity
+is as flint to steel. Fingers, trembling a little, began putting on her
+glove. The look in her eyes could not be truthfully described as
+softness; all the same it was very becoming.
+
+He was not insensible of her feeling, for the birth of which he was
+responsible. Just restrained her: put his hand out on to hers. A simple
+act, but one he performed more gravely than the occasion warranted;
+said:
+
+"Don't be angry."
+
+Then hesitated; conscious, now he had spoken, that the admonition--by
+presupposing cause for it--was not likely to improve matters. Felt that
+he had put a large-sized foot into it.
+
+"Angry!"
+
+The glitter in her eyes, as she repeated his word, warned him that his
+intuition was correct; made him say:
+
+"Well--annoyed."
+
+"You are so--so provoking!"
+
+"I am sorry----"
+
+"No, you are not! You are not sorry a little bit!"
+
+"Believe me----"
+
+"If you were sorry for your rudeness----"
+
+"Rudeness!"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+She spoke with a certain tone of defiance; her anger blinding her to the
+fitness of things--he was really but an acquaintance; continued:
+
+"I think so. Tell me, what did you read?"
+
+His silence incensed her more. Tapping her foot impatiently at his
+manifest reluctance to answer, she went on:
+
+"What does it matter? You say you read the exact opposite of the truth."
+
+"If you insist----"
+
+She was in buckram in a moment; pride stiffened her. Drawing herself up,
+she interrupted him; spoke with an imperious little gesture:
+
+"Oh, no! I have no right to do that. I merely asked."
+
+Miss Mivvins rose to her feet: a woman's way of terminating an
+interview. In his sorrow--disappointment--once more he touched her hand
+restrainingly.
+
+"Please sit down."
+
+The note of pleading sounded in his voice. Then--surely his good angel
+whispered him which line to strike out--he added:
+
+"Don't go yet. You are right--I was wrong."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VIII
+
+                           A SOFT GOOD NIGHT
+
+
+Masters took his stand on that apology and made capital out of it. Miss
+Mivvins resumed her seat. With all his ignorance of the treatment women
+expected--out of books--he had acted in strict consonance with the sex's
+idea of the fitness of things.
+
+To own up to the rightness of the woman you are talking with, and your
+own wrong, is as oil to machinery. It is an almost infallible way of
+worming yourself into the woman's good graces; rarely fails. Its lack of
+truth is compensated for by its success: the Jesuitical theory that the
+end justifies the means.
+
+"Why I said the exact opposite, was because in your hand there are
+lines"--he was holding her hand in his now; holding it tightly as if he
+did not want it to slip away again--"which signify love of
+admiration--society--entertainment--jewels--riches--luxury--noise--
+bustle and excitement."
+
+She listened to the catalogue in silence--save for the eloquence of the
+lashes of her eyes.
+
+"And if," she queried after a moment, "if I confessed to all that--that
+you had read correctly--what then?"
+
+He smiled, so certain was he of the falsity of his catalogue: that her
+character was very different from his delineation.
+
+"At the risk of your again calling me rude," he answered, "I should say
+you were speaking falsely."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because in Nature's library there is a more truthful book to read than
+that of the hand--the face."
+
+She started; he had commenced the perusal of what he referred to. Her
+slight blush was hidden; a kindly cloud passed over the moon at the
+moment.
+
+"I have read that face of yours--read it again and again. I read it each
+time I see you, I read it even when I do not see you; your face is never
+away from me now."
+
+His voice had grown very soft. Having taken his courage in both hands he
+made the first real movement in their little comedy. There followed on
+his speech a slight pause--an interval filled in, as it were, by the
+provision of accompanying music: the rippling surge.
+
+She essayed to draw her hand away--not putting too much heart in the
+attempt. He needed to make no superhuman effort to be successful in its
+retention.
+
+"Do you know that you are the cause of my destruction of three-fourths
+of a story I have written?"
+
+Her astonishment at his utterance was due to the fact that she did not
+at all understand him.
+
+"I? Why?"
+
+"The day we met here--a red-letter day in the calendar of my life--when
+first we sat together on this seat, I was dissatisfied with the heroine
+I was creating: she was not good enough. You came; I put you in my book;
+put you in the place of the creation I had been dissatisfied with--the
+study from life was so much better. And it was so simple; I never had to
+wander or imagine things about her. She was always--is always--before
+me."
+
+She persisted in her affected disregard--a poor sort of performance--of
+the meaning in his voice; asked:
+
+"How have you painted her--me?"
+
+"Unsophisticated, ingenuous, frank, guileless. She comes into the life
+of a man who has lived away from women, who has never believed in them,
+never wanted to. She makes the man see the error of his ways; leads him
+out of the darkness and blackness of his night into the brightness of
+her day. She becomes his sun."
+
+His words, the manner of their utterance, made her bosom rise and fall.
+The deep earnestness in his voice would have moved a much harder heart
+than hers.
+
+"And he?"
+
+His eyes lighted up as, in reply to that question, he began a sort of
+description of himself.
+
+"He thanks God for the light! Lives! Lives! Sees things in life he never
+saw before. She has thrown a searchlight on the barrenness of his
+solitude: shown him its poverty. He realizes that it is not good for man
+to live alone."
+
+An onlooker just then would have imagined her sole object in life to be
+the boring of a hole in the tarred path. She was watching her toe at
+work with an engrossment of the most, apparently, intense kind.
+
+"And all this--these ideas--were born of my--our--chance meetings?"
+
+"Yes! My work became easier; there was no labour. Your face was as a
+book to me; an open book. I just seemed to copy from it what was written
+there. But as for chance--who can say? Chance is but unseen direction."
+
+The caress in his voice made itself felt. Ignoring the latter part of
+his speech she made hurried reply:
+
+"And you read all this in my face? My face which contradicts my hand
+so?"
+
+So earnest was he, that he grew almost petulant over the wilful
+misunderstanding, her changing of the subject; said:
+
+"Let the reading of the hand go. I am content with the face."
+
+Looking up, she realized that his eager eyes were fixed earnestly on
+her. Saw in them the smouldering fire waiting for the smallest draught
+to lick it into flame.
+
+"Are you reading it now? Don't you know"--with a nervous little
+laugh--"that it is very rude to stare so?"
+
+He felt reminded of the action of an engine's piston: his heart was
+pumping so furiously.
+
+"Don't," he urged. "Please don't say so. It would wipe out half the
+happiness of your presence if----"
+
+That eagerness of his must be checked! There was no knowing how far it
+would lead! She stepped behind the lattice of conventionality.
+
+"It is growing late." She was on her feet; used the interview terminator
+again. "We must be returning."
+
+He drew in his breath; was so afraid. Struggled in vain to control his
+rebellious pulse; fancied he had gone too far. Tried to retrace his
+steps and found--as most of us do--walking backwards gracefully to be a
+matter difficult of performance.
+
+"I have not offended you by speaking as I have done, the truth?"
+
+"Offended!"
+
+She spoke shortly. Just repeated his word, not being in a mood for the
+making of long speeches; added:
+
+"Oh no!... Now let us be going."
+
+They went. Homeward bound the conversation perched on stilts; seemed
+artificially out of reach; a reserve had sprung up between them. Both
+were making obvious efforts to be natural. Masters was appreciative of
+the fact that his own were a sickly failure.
+
+At her gate she assumed merriment; a transparent, fraudulent kind of
+mirth. Said laughingly, one hand on the latch, the other ready to place
+in his:
+
+"And now, Mr. Prophet, what of the morrow? Think you will it hail, rain,
+wind or snow?"
+
+It was not infectious, that merriment of hers. She had fallen on the
+first subject in Valapuk: the weather. Staple of English intercourse,
+how many can deny it a debt of gratitude? Common ground--a national
+heritage whereon we can disport ourselves at ease.
+
+"Rain, I am afraid." He looked round. "Those banks of clouds augur
+badly."
+
+"You are not a comforting sort of prophet! Assumption of your
+correctness means confinement to the house all day."
+
+"Yes."
+
+He looked at her as he answered. The glance made it hardly a laconic
+reply.... She stretched out her hand. With the light in her
+forget-me-not eyes full on, said:
+
+"Good-bye."
+
+Taking her hand--his retention of it was for a period considerably
+longer than is considered quite good form in Mayfair--he asked:
+
+"If a wet day--to-morrow, you know--I shall not see you at all, shall
+I?"
+
+Those eloquent lashes of hers helped her speech as she replied:
+
+"It may clear in the evening, as it did to-day. I may not take Gracie
+out in the damp. But, unless it rains, I shall take my own walk in the
+evening."
+
+Even a smaller mercy would have made him thankful. He enquired eagerly:
+
+"At eight o'clock?"
+
+The fringes lifted, giving him what he extravagantly labelled a glimpse
+of Heaven. In the moonlight he saw all the glory of her eyes, as she
+answered:
+
+"Yes."
+
+He had never thought it possible that room could be found for so
+delightful a tone in a woman's voice, as was in Miss Mivvins' utterance
+of that one-syllable word.
+
+"If you should find me walking on the parade at that time," he
+suggested, "you--you would not be displeased?"
+
+She looked at him again. What she read prompted her to think him
+deserving some little reward. Casting her eyes down to her hand, which
+he was still holding, and lowering her voice too, till it was almost a
+half-whisper, she said:
+
+"What--what would you think if I said that----"
+
+She hesitated--stopped. Quite eagerly he endeavoured to help her on;
+interjected:
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"That I might be disappointed if I did not see you?"
+
+The sigh he drew was of a plumbless nature. He answered, his soul in his
+utterance:
+
+"You will not be disappointed."
+
+The sweetest of sweet tones, speaking in the low, tremulous voice which
+may say so little but mean so much:
+
+"Good-night!"
+
+A grip of her hand that almost hurt her; a light in his eyes which had
+never found place there before, and he echoed her final words:
+
+"Good-night!"
+
+Softness in both their voices, in their whole manner. A reciprocated
+hand pressure.
+
+So they parted.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER IX
+
+                          OVER THE GARDEN WALL
+
+
+Miss Mivvins was very full of thought of the man who had left her; he
+was full to the point of over-brimming of thought of her. They were
+soulful thoughts, which lasted them both till sleep closed the windows
+of their souls.
+
+In the case of the man the eyelids remained wide open till the grey dawn
+flushed rosily before the rising sun. Even then he dreamt: of her.
+
+Later, when he awoke, it was evident that a halo of success would
+surround his weather prophecy. His prediction of wet turned out correct:
+it rained nearly all day. But Cupid must have bribed Pluvius; the rain
+ceased to fall as the grey of evening closed down on the day.
+
+Then they met again. It was a walk only; a walk up and down the front.
+She did not feel equal to trusting herself on that seat again. Did not
+trust him--or herself.
+
+A moonlight night, a murmuring sea and a man with eyes of greater
+eloquence than his tongue possessed--decidedly she thought it was best
+to avoid sitting down.
+
+Miss Mivvins did not altogether seem herself; was nothing like so bright
+as she had been before. The sweet mouth never parted in laughter once
+during all the walk. It was a new mood to him; one in which he could
+find no pleasantness.
+
+He taxed her with it; something was worrying her. He would have liked to
+plainly ask what, that he might lighten or at least share the trouble.
+She, not admitting it, endeavoured to shake off the depression.
+
+As their good-byes were uttered, he exhibited a surprising fertility in
+the invention of hints of meetings again. She, for reasons known to
+herself, did not take them.
+
+The weather afforded her a shield; she switched the conversation on to
+that. Clouds were shaping ominously; there was a prospect of more foul
+weather on the breaking of the morrow. So was avoided any open reference
+to another evening walk when they parted.
+
+Clouds, of another kind, seemed to envelop him. He had counted so on the
+meeting; had watched the ticking away of the hours till the fall of
+eventide: and after, till eight o'clock came.
+
+All the warmth of the previous evening, all his delicious anticipation,
+was eclipsed by the frigidity of to-night. He felt like one for whom the
+sun has set while it is yet day.
+
+He worried himself to the point of haggardness: being a man possessed of
+strong emotions. Walked home mind-laden with fear that he had done or
+said something to offend her. Racking his brain, yet failed to find a
+record; could not imagine what had been his sin.
+
+His slumber was not of the peaceful kind. Although his dreams were of
+her--the woman his waking thoughts were so full of--they were not of the
+pleasant kind of yesternight. Again, too, he saw the red fringe in the
+east grow into dawn before he slept.
+
+A warm, drizzling rainy day; so he found the weather on awaking. So warm
+that at breakfast he had his window open; his landlady referred to the
+condition of things as being muggy. That was not the only speech of hers
+he heard that morning.
+
+The proverb about listeners and the good things they hear occurred to
+him. By reason of the open window he was unable to avoid overhearing a
+conversation. It was carried on between the next door landlady and his
+own.
+
+Masters would have scorned a suggestion of eavesdropping. He was aroused
+from the depths of the morning paper, in the columns of which he was
+immersed, by hearing his own name spoken. That is usually a call to
+attention to most of us. The voice of the neighbour reached him:
+
+"Yes. My Liza saw 'em walking together, so to speak. Lord, 'e don't look
+a gent like that, do 'e? But you never know, do you? As I was only
+sayin' to Mrs. Robinson this very mornin', quiet ones is always the
+wust. She's a 'ot lot, and no mistake!"
+
+"Are you sure it was my lodger?"
+
+The inquiry was from his own landlady. He recognized her voice, low
+pitched as it was: there were top notes in it she could never eliminate.
+The answer came over the garden wall:
+
+"My Liza ain't a fool, I give you my word! There, as I says, you never
+know, do you? It don't always do to judge by 'pearances. Your ground
+floor looks as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, as the sayin' is.
+But she--there! You can tell with 'alf-an-eye what she is."
+
+"Yes. I s'pose there ain't no mistake about that. Fine feathers don't
+always make fine birds."
+
+"She's going about, in a manner of speaking, plainly dressed too, just
+now. Ev you noticed it? I see her with my own eyes in Juggins' shop
+without a single ring on her finger! She as used to ev a 'alf-dozen
+sparkling di'monds on each 'and."
+
+"Pawned 'em, perhaps."
+
+"No fear! She knows your lodger's well-to-do, and she's working 'im for
+all 'es wuth, as the sayin' is. Lor! She's up to snuff, I can tell you.
+As I was sayin' to Mrs. Smith, them kind of women is up to every thing."
+
+A voice, presumably the tones of the afore-mentioned Liza, broke in. The
+next door neighbour was being called; some one was enquiring about
+lodgings. The conversation ended with the suddenness of an eye's
+twinkling.
+
+Little as Masters had heard, he was the whole day trying to digest it.
+Material for thought was there: a pregnancy of horrible suggestions.
+
+As to his work, he did not write a line; could not read a paragraph.
+After the manner of a caged beast walked up and down the room. When at
+last he sat, sheer exhaustion was the compelling force.
+
+His mid-day meal was turned over on his plate; any idea of eating it was
+out of the question; it was taken away practically untouched. He had no
+room for physical food; he was so very full just then of mental
+provender. One dominating thought reigned over all others. What
+should--what could he do?
+
+His habit was to drink a cup of tea in the early afternoon. His landlady
+entered bearing a little tray. Whilst she was spreading its contents,
+the thoughts consuming him found vent. He said:
+
+"Don't go away--for a moment. I want to ask you something."
+
+"Yes, sir?"
+
+"You know Ivy Cottage--on the front? Do you know who lives there?"
+
+She looked at him for a moment before answering. An autumn bird needs
+careful handling; if it takes flight the nest remains empty till the
+following summer. She passed her tongue over the thin lips which framed
+it; said warily:
+
+"No, sir. That is to say, not their present names."
+
+Memory's finger pointed out the conversation of the morning over the
+garden wall; this woman's share in it. He knew she was lying. His anger
+against things in general was smouldering; something to let it loose on
+would be a relief. Why this deceit and mystery?
+
+The wisdom of keeping his foot on the brake was known to him. He was
+wise enough, too, to grasp the fact that a man in a temper weakens his
+armour. There was battle to be done; he meant having it out before the
+woman left his room.
+
+"Is that altogether correct?" he inquired. "Surely you must, living in
+this place, have heard?"
+
+"Oh!"
+
+Exclamation with a vinegary shake of her head. She was standing now with
+her mittened hands crossed, prepared evidently for a long talk;
+continued:
+
+"We hear plenty about them, sir!"
+
+"You know the master of the house?"
+
+"Not the present one, sir--if there is one just now!"
+
+In shaping the deep lines round her mouth his satanic majesty had surely
+held the graver! Masters thought the meaning smile with which she let
+loose the innuendo positively hideous in its suggestiveness. His
+inflammable emotions rendered it difficult for him to get proper control
+of his voice as he enquired:
+
+"The mistress, then?"
+
+Impatience in the tone of his voice. He had hoped to elicit replies
+without this direct inquiry. Felt ashamed of himself the while he
+probed. It was not a feeling the woman shared. She answered:
+
+"Oh, yes, sir."
+
+The readiness of her answer was apparent. She was the kind of woman to
+whom slander was a dainty morsel to be tongue-rolled. Her own tongue
+became as the pen of a ready writer. It sickened the questioner, but he
+continued:
+
+"And the governess?"
+
+Vigorous shaking of the woman's head again. In the same
+redolent-of-sourness style, too, as she answered:
+
+"There is no governess there, sir. The only servints is the cook and
+'ousemaid and the odd boy."
+
+He knew that to be a lie! Hope, that he had thought entombed, rose
+again. One thing incorrect, why not all? He said sharply:
+
+"You are mistaken!"
+
+"I don't think so, sir."
+
+Again that hideous smile. Accompanied this time by a pitying expression;
+pity for his simplicity! He was like the generality of men--writhed
+under pity. It acted on him with the irritation of a rasp. He, however,
+controlled himself sufficiently to enquire:
+
+"A tall, fair, blue-eyed young lady?"
+
+The description elicited a second edition of the pity--third of the head
+shaking--as the woman answered:
+
+"That's the mistress, sir."
+
+It is difficult to keep a watchful eye ever on the safety valve. The
+indignation within him was seething to boiling point. He was getting up
+steam so rapidly as to create the impression that his emotions were
+arranged on the principle of the tubular boiler. He blurted out:
+
+"I tell you, you are wrong! Her name is Miss Mivvins!"
+
+Combination of every unpleasant wrinkle that the human face is capable
+of assuming, as she replied, with the incisiveness of a knife cut:
+
+"Very likely that's one of her names, sir! Now I come to remember, I did
+once in a shop 'ear her called so--called so by her own child."
+
+That was the last straw! the safety valve was discarded. He blurted out:
+
+"Her--own--child!"
+
+"Yes. The little girl who's always with her. The one with the carity
+'air as some people calls orebin."
+
+Amazement! Consternation! Disappointment! A combination of these
+feelings, and many other indescribable ones, made him break out with:
+
+"Then--then she is married?"
+
+All the subtle devilish suggestions in her came to the surface. To
+emphasize the point of her answer, slow head-shaking was necessary:
+
+"I couldn't say as to that, sir."
+
+She smiled too that horrible smile again! The desire to speak evil of
+others assails some natures irresistibly. She really could not
+resist--October lodger or no lodger.
+
+"Thank you. That will do."
+
+He managed to dismiss her so, and the landlady left the room. She was
+fearful of having gone a little too far; yet was filled with the
+complacency with which such utterances--to such natures--is fruitful.
+
+Yes, he was alone--but such a loneliness!
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER X
+
+                         THE LITTLE WINGED GOD
+
+
+The closing of the door behind his landlady was unheard by Masters. He
+did not move from the position in which the woman had left him for many,
+very many minutes.
+
+When at last he rose, lifting his head, he caught sight of his own
+reflection in the mirror. Started back, almost cried out: there was such
+a deathly pallor covering his face.
+
+His mouth felt as parched as Sahara. Mechanically he mixed a whisky and
+soda: drank it off. Then laughed. Not a pleasant mirth; one of those
+built up on a sob.
+
+Then self-raillery: the old, old, ever sought useless salve. What a
+fool! What a fool he was to care! A woman! Just as he had always
+pictured them--always till the book he was now engaged on. When he
+thought how chaste and good and pure his last heroine was, on paper, he
+laughed again. The same laugh; with the same choking painful little
+catch-in-the-throat in it too.
+
+He thought he had lost his ideals long ago; we are apt to flatter
+ourselves so. But their death is hard; they live on--unknown even to
+ourselves--to appear before us like some new star of whose existence we
+know nothing. Make it our guiding star, and we are--when it sinks below
+the horizon of fate--as children crying in the night.
+
+The mantel clock chimed seven times. Masters' attention was thereby
+drawn to the fact that it was half-past that hour. Lodging-house clocks
+are not without their peculiarities; the fulfilled ambition of this
+particular one was to be half-an-hour behind time.
+
+Masters started, too, at the sound. Memory of his neglected work came to
+him. Lying on his desk was a bundle of corrected galley proofs, which
+should have been posted to his publisher. Now it was too late: the post
+bag would be made up.
+
+He was annoyed that he had allowed the incident--he was miserably
+failing in trying to label it so to himself--to interrupt the routine of
+his work. Another glance at the clock and he kicked off his slippers and
+horned on his shoes.
+
+Putting on a cap, fastening his greatcoat as he went, he hurried railway
+stationwards. For all the thickness of his coat he was not warm. There
+was a coldness around his heart as if it were icebound.
+
+The last up-train left at eight o'clock. In October the passengers made
+no great demand on the guard's attention; in the season he might have
+been, with justness, likened to a sardine packer. Entrustment of the
+bundle of proofs, to be posted by the railway man on arrival in London,
+was an easily arranged matter.
+
+Crossing the hand with a piece of silver is as effective with the
+average guard as it is with a gipsy: the oracle is worked thereby. The
+proofs would reach the publisher by first post in the morning.
+
+Masters had effected this arrangement by five minutes to eight; five
+minutes before the scheduled time for the train's departure for London.
+Having lighted a cigar in the shelter of the waiting-room doorway, he
+buttoned up his coat, prepared for his return walk home.
+
+As--buttoned up, cigar in mouth--he emerged from the station's
+precincts, he could not fail to observe the lights in the back windows
+of Ivy Cottage. The bungalow stood not three minutes' walk away.
+
+That he should have avoided, he knew; but the night was dark; he would
+not be seen. Moreover, he was in no way different from other moths who
+ever flutter round candles.
+
+So, more or less unconsciously, he was attracted; slowly walked in the
+direction of the light. The little god with wings is as experienced in
+the use of the magnet as the dart.
+
+The corner of the road, which the rear of the house faced, was reached.
+Suddenly the back door of the house was opened. By the light in the
+passage behind he saw a man and a woman silhouetted in the door-frame,
+evidently engaged in actions of a farewell.
+
+The woman had her arms lovingly round the man's neck. She fervently
+kissed him--his lips--again and again. Her sorrow at the parting was
+apparently of the deepest kind; at times she applied her handkerchief to
+her eyes. Not a detail of the incident escaped the attention of the man
+in the road.
+
+Masters stood quite still watching them. Not an act due to ill-breeding:
+he was for the moment simply incapable of movement. Had his existence
+depended on a forward step, Death would have added another name to his
+list.
+
+The couple came out in the garden; walked towards the gate. The path led
+straight from the door; the hall lamp still showed him the positions:
+the woman's arms clinging around the man.
+
+It was well he stood in the shadow on that road; well that they were so
+occupied as to prevent their noticing him. Perhaps the iron that had
+entered into his soul travelled viâ his face. That would account for the
+seared look on it. It was as the face of the dead.
+
+So different. Ah! So different had he thought her. Had linked up, in his
+mind, the purity of the snow in connexion with her. This was the woman
+he had pictured; who was ever so before him that his pen seemed animated
+when he handled it to describe her.
+
+His thoughts--edged with keen bitterness and self-contempt--went back to
+the pure, guileless heroine in his book. Had he been capable of laughter
+at himself, for being a fool, his mirth would have been of the greatest
+heartiness just then.
+
+The couple at the gate parted; the watcher was not very clear how. What
+followed being--by reason of a sort of indescribable veil or mist which
+enveloped him--blurred, almost hidden from him. Dazed as was his
+condition, he was cognizant that the man crossed the road, ran past up
+the pathway to the station. Then came the sound of a whistle, followed
+by the rumbling of the departing train.
+
+Footsteps! He knew them--short as had been his acquaintance with
+them--along the gravel path; then the door of Ivy Cottage was shut. The
+blackness of the night could not have been heavier than the thoughts he
+was alone with. Ideas of things seemed to grow more entangled and
+confused every instant.
+
+From the moment that he had despatched his parcel, he had been mentally
+accusing himself of folly of the highest class. Did so whilst lighting
+his cigar and on the way from the booking office--with the back of Ivy
+Cottage fronting him. Why had he believed those wretched over-the-wall
+gossips, when there was the face--those soulful eyes--of the woman
+herself to look into?
+
+That he had listened to and questioned his landlady was an insult to the
+woman of whom his mind was so full. He knew how those glorious,
+plumbless blue eyes of hers would flash contempt for him did she but
+know: she must never know! Standing there--near the house which
+enshrined what he thought the dearest and best in the world--he almost
+cursed himself. For his folly in doubting her. His future faith should
+obliterate the memory of that moment.
+
+Then--then the back door had opened! It was a shock; a horrible shock.
+But there was confirmation of what he had been told. The scales fell
+from his eyes.
+
+Minutes--they seemed to him centuries--passed. The mist before his eyes
+cleared away; the veiling disappeared. But he felt that it would not be
+a display of wisdom to turn homewards, just yet.
+
+Masters was a sensitive--hyper-sensitive is perhaps a better word--man.
+To rub up against inquiries from a garrulous landlady as to his health
+would prove more irritating than sand paper. He knew that his appearance
+would provoke comment; felt how he looked; determined to try and walk
+the look off.
+
+By setting his face eastward, continuing on the station road for a mile
+or so, he would come out on the shore at what was known as The Gap. By
+walking along the sands therefrom, past the private owner's wall, he
+would be able to mount to the parade by the steps which faced his seat.
+
+Lips tightened and his fingers clenched when he remembered the reference
+to this as "our" seat. The walk would do him good; he laughed a little
+at that last idea. As if, he thought, anything in the whole world would
+ever do him any good again!
+
+Shaken faith is a wound that smarts acutely; the only surgeon able to
+apply a salve is Time.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XI
+
+                       THE VOICE IN THE DARKNESS
+
+
+It was a fitful night; one on which the clouds travelled swiftly. One
+moment the brightness of a silvering moon; the next comparative
+darkness. When the extinguishers hid the lamp of night, the illumination
+of the heavens was left to the stars.
+
+There was sufficient light for Masters to find his way over the
+breakwaters without stumbling. At times, though, despite the brightness
+of the moon, his eyes saw dimly. With a swiftness bred of anger he
+knuckled the dimness away, cursing his own irrepressible folly the
+while.
+
+His heart--soul--was full to bursting point. If he could only laugh, he
+thought; only laugh at himself! What an immense, great big thing it
+would be!
+
+Walking, smart walking, was the only relief he experienced; physical
+exertion was reputedly an antidote to mental excitement. He felt
+sufficient energy to have moved on indefinitely. Wished he could walk on
+till he fell from exhaustion. In that there would have been
+satisfaction; rest, at any rate. Rest from that tumultuous tide of
+recrimination surging in his brain.
+
+His anger was directed against himself; no one else. It upsprung from
+the fact that he had been such a fool, such an utter, absolute fool, as
+to be gulled by a woman! Scoffingly he told himself that anger against
+her would be unfair; that her behaviour had been merely typical of her
+sex!
+
+He, who had ever with his pen written against womankind--until at last
+reviewers had spoken of his work as being that of a woman-hater--to have
+fallen such an easy victim to the first siren who spread her snare for
+him! The thought was fuel to the maddening fever in possession of him.
+
+Then came before him her face; those sweet, eloquent, soulful eyes!
+Well, he endeavoured to comfort himself with the thought that any man
+would have fallen a victim as he had done. The amount of comfort in it,
+though, would have found resting-place on a needle's point.
+
+There was an underlying reason for the failure. Granted that his ideal
+was shattered, he still loved its ruins. Therein lay the hopelessness of
+it all--and he knew it. Striding on, he savagely kicked out of his way,
+now and then, a stone. Poor sort of relief again.
+
+The configuration of the coast line brought him to an abrupt standstill.
+The cliff, jutting out, was met by a barrier of high rocks. These latter
+were overgrown with seaweed of the slipperiest sort: defiance bidding.
+Nature's sudden intervention in his proceedings produced a corresponding
+interruption in his thoughts.
+
+Why should he think about this woman any longer? She was not worth
+wasting thought over. He had been happy enough without her--before he
+knew her. So he would be happy without her still.
+
+Cut the thought of her clean out of his mind; out of his heart. That, he
+told himself, was the correct thing to do. Life should be for him as if
+he had never seen her, never looked into the unfathomable depths of
+those forget-me-not eyes. It would be quite easy; a little effort of
+will was needed--that was all.
+
+All that he meant; every word of it. Framed a resolution that he looked
+on as adamantine. But he ignored an important factor; made no allowance
+for the strange vitality of that prolific pure white flower: Love.
+
+The axe of common sense may be laid to the root of the tree; may cut it
+down root and branch. Still one small remaining tendril, hidden from the
+sight, will work its way into the heart; spread and grow until in its
+magnitude it overshadows every other thought. Such is love.
+
+Masters reached the steps which led up from the sands to the seat.
+Standing at their base, he looked away in the direction of the sea. It
+was easy to mark the spot where Gracie had worked so hard with spade and
+pail.
+
+He thought of the child with a pang of pity. For his heart had gone out
+to her; he had been captivated by her loving, winsome ways. Even now his
+eyes rested on where Gracie had built her last castle. He could mentally
+see her gleesomely watching the waters overflowing the moat and
+gradually sweeping down the castle's inverted pail-shaped turrets.
+
+Gracie! Poor little soul! And so she, whom he had mistaken for the
+governess--this woman--was the mother of that incarnation of innocence
+and purity! What of the child's future? He shuddered to think of it; it
+was horrible; all horrible in the extreme.
+
+Well, he would go home to his lodgings. First he would look again--for
+the last time--on that portion of the sands. For he felt that he would
+never be able to come there again. He would have been thankful for a
+breeze just then: his brow was feeling so fevered.
+
+Perhaps there was more air on the seawall; he would test it, pass up the
+steps. There was the seat to avoid looking at; the seat whereon they had
+both sat reading--heart reading heart. Where had been born to him the
+happiest moment in life: love's awakening.
+
+There was other history about the seat too: pencil created. Thereon,
+before that meeting, had been born heroes and heroines, wicked men and
+wicked women. All to be bound together and pressed between covers later
+on, to gladden or sadden readers' hearts.
+
+Living a romance is less alluring than writing one: Masters found it so.
+He had been wont to believe in the parts he cast his characters for. He
+was learning!
+
+Stumbling up the steps on to the wall, he started to walk home. But he
+halted, suddenly, before he had taken half-a-dozen paces. No drill
+sergeant's command ever brought up an absent-minded beggar on parade as
+did the words which fell on his ear.
+
+"I thought that was you, Mr. Masters!"
+
+Her voice! The voice of his shattered idol! The same voice: just as
+fresh and soft and kind as ever! Her voice, speaking to him! Could it
+be? Or was it a dream simply, a chimera of his brain? Or was this
+voice--this voice ringing, singing in his ears now--the result of his
+highly fevered imagination only?
+
+He feared to turn his head to see. To know whether it was in reality the
+woman for whom he had been ready to lay down his life--whom he had
+considered a princess among women; chaste, pure, modest; whose
+dethronation had been so recent. Whom he had come to think of as soiled.
+
+Yes! She was there before him in the flesh! This perfidious parody of
+perfection, this transmuted ideal. He waited for a moment motionless;
+then raised his cap--a merely mechanical act.
+
+Besides, being a woman, whatever else she might be, she was exempt from
+rudeness at his hands.
+
+Her sex protected her.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XII
+
+                           MISUNDERSTANDINGS
+
+
+"Aren't you going to sit on Our Seat? Or don't you need a rest?"
+
+It was said archly; the significant reference to Our Seat, subtly
+conveyed. She seemed to have shaken off the depression of yesterday. Was
+herself; her own blithe, bright self again.
+
+Mechanically Masters accepted the implied invitation; sat. There ensued
+silence; a silence which told more than speech. Not the silence which
+breathes of sweet accord between two understanding hearts.
+
+She, on her part, was filled with wonder--expectancy--an undefined sense
+of something being wrong. He was not insensible of the fact that the
+plumage of his dove was rustling. No woman could, of course, endure such
+treatment.
+
+The need for speech on his part was plain: but, somehow, he was at a
+loss for words. Was yet alive to the fact that she would read his
+speechlessness her own way: would set him down as guilty of caddish
+behaviour. The silence became tense: the strain was fast becoming
+unbearable.
+
+But little time passed; she got to her feet--being the kind of woman
+quick to take offence. The insult was felt the more acutely because, she
+told herself, she was alone to blame: had simply courted it, brought it
+on herself.
+
+She had wanted to meet this man. Had hurried on to the parade with the
+feeling in her heart that it would be good to meet him. Had sat on the
+seat for a minute's rest and a faint sense of grief that she had not
+encountered him on her walk. Had been thinking disconsolately of walking
+home, when she was rendered joyful by his presence.
+
+And then--to be treated like that! Had she offended him? Such a
+possibility passed rapidly through her mind; was as rapidly rejected as
+a theory untenable. Did he disapprove of her coming there alone, at that
+time?
+
+She knew that some men were punctilious in regard to such matters. But
+he--natural, unconventional as he was himself--surely it could not be
+that. His voice interrupted her reflections. In a husky, strained tone,
+looking neither right nor left, but aimlessly in front of him, he said:
+
+"Nice, fine evening, isn't it?"
+
+Another credit note to our fickle climate! But the utter incongruity of
+the remark, the exceedingly strange tone of his voice, caused her to
+wheel round and look at him. Then she saw. The moon chanced to be free
+from clouds just then; its pale beams accentuated the lividity of
+Masters' face.
+
+"Oh, my God! you are ill! What has happened--an accident? What can I do
+for you?"
+
+As she was quick of thought so she was quick of movement. In a moment
+was kneeling beside him--all the annoyance and hastily-aroused temper
+gone to the winds. Only her helpful woman's instinct aching to be of
+service to him: to the man she loved.
+
+"It is nothing. Don't--please. Don't worry yourself."
+
+Impulsively her arms went up to his shoulders in sheer sympathy and
+kindliness. All the stiffness, all the resentment, left her. She was
+only just plainly and simply a woman.
+
+That being the case, her womanly pride was relegated to a back seat. Her
+precious dignity went down in value; right down to nil. It was not in
+the question at all--that question she asked as she gave herself to the
+needs of the moment; asked with real anxiety:
+
+"Tell me--what to do?"
+
+The light was there on her face, in her eyes! Oh, unmistakably there!
+The light which yesterday he had prayed he might see; that he had
+yearned for with his heart and soul. Her soft beautiful radiant eyes
+were looking with eager, tearful anxiety into his own.
+
+For a moment--the influence of the moment and forgetfulness in
+combination--he felt that he must grasp, grip, strain her to him. Hold
+her in one long, lasting embrace. Then--he remembered! That an hour back
+she had been clinging to, looking into another man's face with the same
+tearful eyes! Oh, the excellence, super-excellence, of her acting! He
+would have given a king's ransom for the ability to laugh just then--at
+himself.
+
+Could it be--could it? For a brief instant he doubted. The next moment
+blamed himself for being a fool. But not a blind fool--oh, no! He had
+the evidence of his own eyes: the evidence for the prosecution.
+
+Most of us, under such circumstances, willingly take upon ourselves the
+threefold responsibility of witness, jury and judge. It is instinctive
+in most men: the desire to ladle out justice. But the appeal court
+sometimes oversets the decisions; Justice is not infallible--perhaps her
+blindness has something to do with it.
+
+Few of us betray modesty when wearing the ermine. The more rigorously we
+silence the opposing counsel--the evidence of our own hearts--the more
+we pride ourselves on our impartiality, our exemplary Roman-fatherly
+administration of justice. We are apt to ignore any talk of a Court of
+Appeal; arrogate to ourselves supreme wisdom.
+
+Curiously enough, the more severe the sentence we pronounce, the more we
+rise in our own estimation. The rise may not be permanent--seldom is;
+but while we are at the high water mark of self-assurance we generally
+make the most of the tide. The sailing along on it is helped by the wind
+of serene self-complacency; we sun ourselves in vanity of our prowess.
+Forgetfulness is there; that the tide--like the proverbial lane or
+worm--has a knack of turning.
+
+The dominant note in Masters at the moment was anger. That such a woman
+should have power over men. He mentally thanked God that her power over
+him was of the past. Laid the flattering unction to his soul that
+perhaps he was cleaner-minded than his fellows. Man applies curious
+ointments to his wounds!
+
+But that thankfulness did not arrest his anger; made it the greater
+perhaps. He was hardly in a state of that judicial calm which should
+characterize dispassionate inquiry. Being angry, he spoke--after the
+manner of the angry man--foolishly; said brutally:
+
+"This has been a busy evening with you. Don't you get tired of hugging
+men? I am the second in one hour."
+
+For a moment she made no movement, no sound--save of the quick indrawing
+of her breath. It was as if some icy blast had suddenly assailed and
+frozen her to the spot. Her face retained the same look; she was too
+amazed--not understanding--too astonished to do more than look. He went
+on mercilessly:
+
+"I saw the parting at your back door; I was passing. Saw you slobbering
+over a man there as you seem inclined to slobber over me."
+
+It was as if he had struck her! She drew in her breath so that it
+sounded whistle-like. Fell back; extending her arms, seemed as if she
+would push him from her as something unclean. In colourlessness her face
+rivalled his.
+
+"How dare you----"
+
+Those words were shaped on her white lips. Then she stopped. The lips
+trembled, tightened. Rising to her feet, the indignation in her eyes as
+she looked down at him completed the sentence.
+
+He laughed; that laugh with the underlying sobbing catch in it, for his
+laughter was not born of merriment. Said, righteous indignation shining
+in his own eyes too:
+
+"Dare! What do you mean? The witnessing of it, or telling you of it?"
+
+She scorned reply; he was really too contemptible! Yet the woman in her
+bubbled to the surface; she could not resist an effort to hurt him:
+
+"And you--you played the spy!"
+
+A raising of his shoulders, a lowering of his eyes, as he answered:
+
+"Call it so if you wish."
+
+He really did not care what she thought of him; plainly showed that. The
+indifference roused her; she tried again. Spoke with forced
+quietness--standing a little way from him--her voice full of contempt:
+
+"There is a man bearing your name in the High Street: a blacksmith. I
+could understand such behaviour on his part. But--a--gentleman!"
+
+Her satisfaction came then: she had hurt. A deep flush streamed over his
+face, then faded altogether away, except for two red streaks.
+
+"Am I not behaving as one?"
+
+Keenly sensitive to her rebuke, he spoke half-apologetically. The
+bitterness of the incident was making him more himself. Brought home to
+him, forcefully, the irony of things.
+
+"Pray pardon me." He rose and stepped towards her. "Will you allow me to
+see you home?"
+
+"Don't touch me!"
+
+There seemed an absolute fire burning in her eyes, so intense was her
+scorn. She could not have shrunk from him, or found him more repellent,
+had he been a leper. Her eyes seemed to scorch him.
+
+He knew himself to be in the right; knew it perfectly well; beyond the
+shadow of a doubt. But standing before that searing indignation, it was
+he who appeared to be in the wrong, even to himself--his inmost self.
+
+Such treatment hurt. Thought of the gross unfairness of it too was
+positively stinging. He who was suffering--the victim--to be put in the
+wrong! To be arraigned by the victimiser!
+
+His blood, his forehead, seemed to be burning hot, the while he was
+conscious of cold shivers running through him. Was this--he despised
+himself as he questioned--carrying out his intention? Was he plucking up
+his love by the roots?
+
+It was weakness--he labelled it so--weakness on his part that her words,
+her presence, had still such power to move him. He would be
+strong--strong and just. But he realized the hardness of the task he set
+himself. It was man's work; he would prove himself worthy of it.
+
+She did not deign him another word; the wound to her pride was too
+severe for that. Her blue eyes blazed, as perhaps only blue eyes can.
+She would have given worlds for tears to soften their burning heat, but
+no tears came. Without another glance at him she turned and walked
+away--assumed an every-day gait; he should not think she was excited.
+
+He did not attempt to stop her. Why should he? It was better so. Better
+that the sharp severing blow had been struck then than later: clean cuts
+heal quickest. He would let her get well on her way home before he
+moved. She must not think he was trying to follow.
+
+Standing on the edge of the wall he looked out to sea. The water wore an
+appearance of invitation: that dangerous aspect which has proved
+irresistibly attractive to so many. Right out too, it looked so--so--so
+away from everything.
+
+The tide was receding; was going out and away--to the Great Beyond. He
+knew that if he chose he could go with it. It would be so easy an act,
+if he stepped off the rocks further down--into the water that was always
+deep.
+
+Then he pulled himself up with a jerk. Pride came to the rescue. Was he
+to cave in, go under, just because of a woman? What a fool he was! What
+an unmitigated, arrant fool! Was there a woman in the world--the whole
+world--worth caring so much for? No. Not one!
+
+But his heart contradicted. He remembered that anxious look on her face,
+the loving attitude, the feel of her arms as they rested on his breast,
+his shoulders. His, too, was the remembrance of the warmth of the sweet
+human breath; her eyes that had looked into his. Then he looked out to
+sea again; mentally out to the Great Beyond. Asked himself the old, old
+question: Was life worth living?
+
+Bathos saved the situation. He remembered that a character in one of his
+stories had asked the same question: Was life worth living? The comic
+doctor had replied that it depended--depended on the liver!
+
+He walked home.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIII
+
+                           FEVERISH SYMPTOMS
+
+
+Masters did not leave Wivernsea. The obstinacy of his character came
+into play there; he had come down for a month, and he stopped.
+
+He had come for a purpose too--business purpose--had his book to finish.
+Was a trifling incident, the accident common to men's lives, to disturb
+the current of his life? To turn him from his prearranged plan in the
+smallest degree? Perish the thought!
+
+All he altered was the direction of his walks; he thought that wisdom.
+Because, like other wise men, he left the east and went west. It was
+Cliffland there; sheltered spots innumerable were easily found.
+
+She, yet more proud than he, altered nothing; took her walks with Gracie
+as usual. Sat on the seat at the far end of the walk; read novels there
+with stoic fortitude--except for an occasional long look across the
+waters.
+
+Looking across the wide sea seems to afford scope for, to encourage,
+limitless, aimless reflections. At any rate hers were aimless; she knew
+that. But a woman dearly loves the memories of the past, to bring them
+before her: to pet and fondle and keep them alive with the warmth of her
+heart.
+
+Being at opposite poles, east and west, their daily meetings ended. Once
+he met her in the post office; he was leaving as she was entering. He
+raised his hat, and would--from mere courtesy--have said: Good Morning.
+But the unframed words wilted on his lips.
+
+Her eyes, as they fell on him, lighted up with indignation; a second
+edition of what he had seen before. As they for a moment rested on him
+they seemed to scorch up what he would have said. His raised-to-hat hand
+trembled and fell: he passed out.
+
+Reaching home she found that she had carried with her a recollection of
+his face. By the seat he had said things to her that no woman could
+forgive. She told herself that an average hundred times a day--to say
+nothing of the sleepless nights she passed with thoughts full of him.
+But she was sorry to see the haggard, worn look he was wearing as he
+left the post office.
+
+He had appeared ill. His, she had told him, was a face which had borne
+no worry lines; lines of thought but not of trouble. The absence of the
+latter had made him appear younger than he really was.
+
+With a smile she thought back on the time--it seemed quite a long while
+ago--when she had fancied that she had almost come to love that eager,
+enthusiastic face; boyish, but still with an air of manly determination
+about it, set in a manly frame.
+
+Masters' shoulders were quite abnormally broad and square; accentuated
+the impression of strength made by the broad bronzed forehead. How
+foolish women were, she thought. Well, she had learnt a lesson; she
+would profit by it. Experience had taught her; she would prove herself a
+grateful pupil.
+
+She had deceived herself for the first time and the last. Of course it
+was painful--the awakening. Waking up to the perception of unvarnished
+facts generally is unpleasant. But she could look at her own foolishness
+without wincing, indulgently--her foolishness of a week ago. Just an
+error of judgment that there was no scrap of likelihood of her
+repeating.
+
+Still--she admitted it to herself--he was undeniably attractive. Hardly
+less so because he looked older in the post office than he had done
+formerly. The worry lines, whose absence she had remarked, were there
+now.
+
+One hasty glance had shown them to her; they were so apparent. She
+wondered--a kindly feeling stealing over her--whether she had anything
+to do with it: the change. Then memory came and withered up the
+softness; pointed out what had been said to her that night when she
+knelt by the seat! The memory was a blasting breath; her softness fell
+away.
+
+The mere remembrance of it made her feel hot all over. She--she to kneel
+to a man! Because she had fancied he was ill--full of kind feelings
+towards him, she had knelt; and he had talked of hugging and slobbering!
+To have her kindness, so well meant, recoil on her, thrown back on her
+hands as it were, with gratuitous, unwarranted insult instead of thanks!
+
+It is galling to have a gift returned; the gall is greater when the gift
+is of the heart's kindness; more galling still when the ungracious
+recipient vacates a place in that heart itself. The return then savours
+of brutality.
+
+Fury, too, came to her at the mere memory of his speech. She was almost
+as angry as when the words rang freshly in her ears. But with all the
+temper there was mingled wonder. Surely he could not be a man to whom
+brutality came easily. Why--why--why--had he behaved so?
+
+Fool? No. She told herself that she was not that. She had read in his
+eyes that he loved her; indeed, had more than once checked his telling
+her so. What could be the cause?
+
+He had spoken of seeing her in the back garden that night--but that was
+a mere incident--there were a thousand-and-one explanations of that. He
+would know that; there must have been something else.
+
+But why should she worry herself about the matter--about the man?
+Plainly he was not worthy a second thought. Ready to misjudge her as he
+had been--well let him! She did not care; not a scrap. She was quite
+capable of fighting her way alone.
+
+Then she picked up one of the books of his he had given her. On the fly
+leaf she read:
+
+    _Miss Mivvins; to remind her of Our Seat, on which so many of
+    these pages were written._
+                                                  _William Masters._
+
+She stood with her eyes on the writing, the book in her hand, for many
+minutes. Then put the volume down with a sigh. After all, she thought,
+real friends are as rare as Christian charity.
+
+Crunching sounds--boot pressure of gravel, made her look out of the
+window on to the path leading to the gate. The doctor was coming up it
+to the house. She went out to meet him.
+
+Gracie was not well--restless and feverish--was now lying on her bed
+sleeping. The doctor, on his previous visit, had thought it a cold
+merely, but there were faint symptoms which made him promise to come
+again. He was there in fulfilment of that promise now.
+
+She was waiting for him at the door when he reached it. Nodding to her,
+in an informal, friendly way, he questioned cheerily:
+
+"And how is the little one this morning?"
+
+"Much better, I think, doctor. She is sleeping peacefully now."
+
+"Sleeping? Still? Is she drowsy?... Let me see her."
+
+They walked into the bedroom together. The noise of their entrance
+roused the child. She looked up and around her, with the frightened eyes
+of one suddenly awakened from alarming dreams.
+
+"Well, little girlie!"
+
+The doctor spoke merrily. He was of that type; did not carry the
+undertaker with him when visiting a patient. He advanced to take the
+child's hand lying on the coverlet; continued:
+
+"This is a nice idea of yours, upon my word! Going to sleep in the
+day----"
+
+His intent in the adoption of a reassuring tone was to change the
+current of her thoughts: the wild thoughts evidently surging in that
+active little brain. But when he clasped the child's hand in his own,
+the merriment left his voice, the smile his face. His other hand he
+placed on her forehead, then turning, said:
+
+"Why did you not send for me?"
+
+The mother was standing close beside the child, stooping so that her
+face was on a level with the terror-stricken little one's bright eyes.
+She was speaking loving words, in the loving way that appeals to
+children. Words which read so foolishly, yet sound so sweetly. She
+turned round suddenly, startled by the gravity in the doctor's voice.
+
+"Send!" she cried. "Why? She--she is not--oh, don't tell me----"
+
+"Hush!"
+
+She became quiet at once. Another phase of the doctor's character
+showed: his will power. The loving anxiety was suppressed. The practical
+woman was to the fore, intent on the doctor's instructions:
+
+"She must be undressed and put to bed. Have a fire here; it must be kept
+going night and day. Send one of your maids"--he was writing on a leaf
+of his note-book as he spoke, and finishing, tore it out--"with this
+prescription at once."
+
+Gracie was fever-stricken! Tossed in delirium all that night and the
+next day. All the next day and night--and the mother sat by the bedside,
+tending, never leaving the little one.
+
+The doctor came three and four times a day. Each time he looked grave.
+There was no sign of improvement in the child's condition. The mother,
+worn out with watching, ever looking to him for comfort, read none.
+
+Did ever--during all those hours of wearing, waiting, anxious
+watching--the thought of Masters cross her mind? She had shut him
+resolutely out of her heart, turned the key of consciousness upon him.
+But even bolts and bars are proverbially of small efficacy in such
+cases.
+
+In those long hours, the only silence breaking sounds were the
+monotonous ticking of the clock and the short, quick breathing of the
+little white-robed, white-faced form on the white pillows. Sometimes,
+then, the woman's resolution broke down; thoughts of The Man crept in
+upon her all unbidden. Gentler thoughts than she had harboured in the
+previous days: troubles' softening influence was around.
+
+Their first meeting! She thought of that. Of his affection for Gracie;
+of the child's love for him. Surely a child's instinctive love and trust
+went for something. Perhaps, after all--and then those horrible words of
+his rang in her ears, and she hid her hot face in the white coverlet.
+Never, never--they were unforgivable. Besides, he did not seek
+forgiveness.
+
+Strange that, by the bedside of the panting child, with Life and Death
+fighting for possession of the fragile little form, her ears ever
+straining to catch the sound of that softer breathing which she knew
+would signal Life's victory--strange, that with fear and hope surging in
+her bosom, even while her gentle hand restrained her dear one's restless
+tossing to and fro and cooled the burning forehead and feverish,
+clinging little fingers; strange that there should seem no wrong,
+nothing incongruous in the thought of an almost stranger--of William
+Masters. Perhaps it was because Gracie loved him so dearly: that must
+have been the reason.
+
+Poor little Gracie! She little knew what manner of man it was to whom
+she had offered her affectionate, trusting little heart. Yet he had been
+kind to her, more than kind. There was pleasantness in the memory of
+that.
+
+Fugitive thoughts were these; stealing in under cover of the night.
+Those hours when that watchful keeper of the heart--a woman's pride--is
+prone to forsake his trust; to leave the secret of that heart revealed
+before its Maker, and herself. A moment, and the watchful sentinel is
+back again at his post; repentant for his lapse, guarding his treasure
+more jealously than ever.
+
+The white soul of the child stood at the entrance of the Valley of the
+Shadow. Hour by hour the watching woman seemed to see the Shadow
+deepening, growing. Hour by hour she strove with all the power that in
+her lay to lead that white soul back into life's sunshine.
+
+The watching and anxiety told on her. The doctor, noting her sunken
+eyes, had to speak firmly:
+
+"You must take rest. You need it as much as your patient."
+
+"Rest!"
+
+"Don't be foolish! You have a good woman; this woman who is helping
+you."
+
+"She has been a nurse."
+
+"I see she understands. You must take rest or you will be ill. Ill, too,
+at a time when you are most needed."
+
+"Tell me, doctor. Oh! For God's sake, tell me--you don't know what she
+is to me! Tell me----"
+
+"My dear madam, I can tell you nothing. As it nears midnight, will come
+a crucial time. Humour her; whatever she wants, no matter how
+extravagant it may seem, let her have it. She has an excitable nature, a
+nervous temperament. Do all you can to soothe her. She must not worry
+for anything: it might prove her death. Gratify her desires and she may
+sleep--sleep will be her salvation. You understand?"
+
+"Yes, doctor."
+
+"Whatever she asks for, gratify her."
+
+"Yes, doctor."
+
+"She is needing sleep; rest for that active little brain of hers. She is
+full of ideas of triple-headed giants, fairies and stories of that sort.
+Don't contradict her, get her into a state of contentment if possible.
+Who is this Prince Charlie she was asking for just now?"
+
+"A friend--a casual friend--some one we know."
+
+"She is inexplainably anxious to see him. Soothe, by letting her do so
+if possible. She has intervals when she is as rational as you or I; it
+is well to prolong those by letting her talk to people she knows and
+wants to see. Does he live far away--this Prince Charlie?"
+
+"In--in the town."
+
+"Then, by all means, if she asks again, send for him."
+
+"Yes, doctor."
+
+"Fretting and excitement are to be avoided. Soothe her in every possible
+way; gentleness and firmness combined go a long way. But this Prince
+Charlie--from the hold he seems to have on her--may go a longer way
+still. Of course she may not ask for him again--maybe it is a mere
+delirious fancy--but if she does, you will know how to act."
+
+But Gracie did ask again. Asked persistently, petulantly, pleadingly.
+The watcher with the breaking heart allowed the mother in her nature to
+smother the mere woman. She resolved to humble herself in the dirt: to
+send for him; he who had so grossly insulted her.
+
+She would not write, she would not see him herself: she could not. She
+would send a verbal message. Late as it was there was no fear of not
+finding him up, she knew. He had told her that he always wrote till one
+in the morning.
+
+The midnight oil phrase was one he was ever using.
+
+
+
+
+                          CHAPTER XIV
+
+                        TO BEG FOR MERCY
+
+
+An upward glance at the clock on the mantel. It was late: within an hour
+of midnight. The servants had already gone to bed. Going to their rooms
+she gently knocked at the door; called to one of them by name:
+
+"Ellen!"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+The reply in a frightened, startled voice. The tone betrayed the maid's
+fear that she was to hear bad news. The next words were a relief:
+
+"You know where Mr. Masters lives?"
+
+The possibility of a want of knowledge on the part of the servants never
+occurred to her. She was not in the least surprised when an affirmative
+answer was returned to her:
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"I want you to get up at once, Ellen--I am sure you will not mind--and
+dress yourself quickly. Go to Mr. Masters, give him my compliments, and
+ask him--ask him to come here--to be kind enough to come here at once."
+
+"Yes, ma'am. Certainly."
+
+The girl had listened in astonishment, but obediently set about the task
+set her. She was fond of children, was Ellen; was thankful too that she
+had not, as she had feared at first, been called to hear bad news about
+Miss Gracie.
+
+The maid had no thought of grumbling at the late service demanded of
+her, although greatly wondering at the message she was to deliver. The
+over-wrought, tired woman returned to the sick room and waited.
+Presently the little lips--for the hundredth time--shaped the question:
+
+"I want Prince Charlie; won't he come and tell me about the fairy and
+Jack?"
+
+The mother's heart was full of thankfulness that she had sent; that she
+had humbled herself to do so. She was able to bend over and whisper:
+
+"Yes, darling. Mother has sent for him. He will be here directly."
+
+She was without fear in making the promise; felt so sure he would come.
+He was a gentleman, he would understand. He would know how urgent must
+be the need which could demand his presence at that late hour--indeed,
+to send for him at all. Or would he think--No! The thought was too
+horrible! She stifled it.
+
+Waiting, waiting, waiting--weary waiting! At last she heard the maid's
+returning steps on the path without; ran to the door and opened it. The
+girl spoke reluctantly; what she had to say made the mother turn sick at
+heart.
+
+"Said, ma'am, it was too late to come out to-night. He would come round
+in the morning."
+
+The mother's mind failed to grasp it: that message. The callous cruelty
+of it. It seemed too--too impossible. Had he misunderstood--misjudged
+her? Could it be? Had she fallen so low in his estimation? A crimson
+flood overspread her face.... After a pause, as if clutching at a straw,
+she inquired:
+
+"Did you see him yourself?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am. He seemed to wonder what you could want with him. Said it
+would keep, whatever it was, till the morning."
+
+"Keep--till--the--morning!"
+
+Gracie's pleading, her own promise, rang in her ears! Keep till the
+morning. The irony of it! She staggered against the wall, passed her
+hand across her brow--loath to believe that the author, fond of
+children, could behave so--asked again--
+
+"You are quite sure you saw him yourself?"
+
+"Oh, yes, ma'am. I know Mr. Masters quite well by sight." She
+did--Masters, the blacksmith! She had been to his shop in the High
+Street, and in response to her ringing of his house bell, he had put his
+head out of his bedroom window and spoken to her. Not in any very
+pleasant tone; he was not pleased that his beauty sleep had been broken
+into.
+
+He was an early-to-bed and early-to-rise old man. He could see no sense
+in turning out at past eleven o'clock at night for any one. Not even for
+a sick child or for the finest lady in the land.
+
+As he went grumbling back to his bed the blacksmith muttered that some
+of them fine ladies seemed to think it was a nonner to be at their beck
+and call; summat to be proud of, it was, for a poor man like hisself.
+None of their airs for him--he wasn't having any, this time. Such was
+his grumble; weighted with a plethora of adjectives--of a quite
+unprintable kind.
+
+The mother staggered back into the bedroom, to the child's side.
+White-faced, trembling in every limb, supported herself by the bed rail.
+Noted the hour: past eleven o'clock. The crucial time the doctor had
+spoken of was approaching.
+
+Gracie was in a quite rational mood. Her brightly burning eyes were
+fixed on her mother as she entered the room, and she spoke at once,
+eagerly--as eagerly as the feeble little lips could frame
+words--stuttering in her eagerness:
+
+"Has Pr--Prince Charlie come yet, mamma?"
+
+Right down into the depths of despair sank the mother's heart. She took
+the child's hot hand in her own; gently brushed the curls away from the
+little forehead with the other. As she did so the hot dryness of that
+brow was brought to her notice afresh. It was necessary to answer the
+child; the reply was gently given. Yet the utterance of each word was as
+a stab to her:
+
+"Not--not yet, darling."
+
+A little whimpering, plaintive voice uprose from amongst the pillows:
+
+"I want him, mamma--won't he come?"
+
+How was she to gratify the little one's desire: to get Prince Charlie
+there? The doctor had warned her that at this stage the child's demands
+were to be granted if possible. If possible. She had sent and he had
+refused to come. The doctor's words rang in her ears. If Possible.
+
+She thought of the man sitting--as she knew he would be--shaping with
+his pen, fictional pathetic pictures, intended to draw tears from the
+tender-hearted. She thought of the real pathos of this child, perhaps
+dying, to whom he might bring life and hope by his mere immediate
+presence. And he had returned the message: That It Would Keep.
+
+The child tossed uneasily from side to side. The corners of the arched
+little mouth went down threateningly. If Possible! Was it possible to
+bring him--by any means? Was it possible for her to sink her womanhood
+even deeper? To humble herself to Beg of him to come? Would he come even
+if she did?
+
+Then the direction came from the little form tossing restlessly from
+side to side; the weak voice whispered:
+
+"You said he would come, mamma. Won't you fetch him? He will come if you
+fetch him."
+
+Would he? Was that the possibility? Was the little one wise in saying
+that? She remembered that out of the mouths of babes and----Well, she
+could but try. The mother in her was mighty, stronger than all else:
+prevailed.
+
+There was no mental balance used in her decision. No conscious weighing
+of pros and cons. The duty--if aught prompted by love is duty--stood
+clear before her. Something greater than her own will impelled her
+decision. She would at once go to him herself.
+
+Glancing at the clock again, she saw that the recorded time was
+half-past eleven. She would go to him. Go on her knees to him: would not
+spare herself further. Would beg him, for God's sake, to be more
+merciful than he had shown himself in his message. Entreat him not to
+put off till to-morrow--when it might be too late--that which could be
+done to-night.
+
+Self-blame just then she was very full of; bitterness for not having
+gone to him in the first instance herself. Tortured herself with the
+thought that it might now be too late. Wondered if God would forgive her
+obstinate pride. Still be merciful to her: still let her keep her child.
+
+She bent over the bed and spoke close into the little ear. Made
+spasmodic but unavailing attempts to control her emotion: could not
+bring herself to utter the words more than just audibly:
+
+"You'll be quite still, darling, won't you, whilst mother goes to fetch
+him?"
+
+The face turned upwards. The mother kissed it passionately, tenderly,
+again and again. The wasted little arms went round her neck and clung
+there gratefully. Mother was going to fetch Prince Charlie!
+
+From the adjoining room the woman who assisted in the child's nursing
+came; posted herself by the bedside. Then the mother--staggering as if
+the unknown gaped before her--left the room. In the hall slipped on the
+cloak which, she remembered, he had buttoned.
+
+She spent no time in seeking a hat. Swung the hood up from behind over
+her head. So hurried out of the house.
+
+So, into the night.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XV
+
+                          ON HER KNEES TO HIM
+
+
+Wivernsea was asleep. Like its blacksmith, it believed in the theory of
+early rising. Not a light was to be seen in one of the windows she
+passed. Not until she came to the end of the Marine Terrace. There she
+saw an illuminated window: her beacon.
+
+It was but a short distance from her own place; not ten minutes' walk.
+She seems to have spent as many hours in covering it. Despite the
+proverb, time does not always fly.
+
+The house which Masters lodged in was known to her. He had described the
+quaintness of its old-fashioned bay window; the only one in the row. She
+would have known it as his place without even the beacon light for
+identification. He was a slave of the lamp: consumed the midnight oil.
+
+As she made towards the light she prayed, almost aloud. Prayed for a
+conquering power--over her pride. That she might be humble. For the
+framing of words to move this man when she besought him to come.
+Soulfully prayed that God would incline his heart to hear her prayer.
+
+Three steps--she faltered up them; proximity to her goal rendered her
+invertebrate--brought her to the level of the door. If she put her hand
+over the rails she could tap at the window. It would be better so than
+disturbing the household by knocking. She tapped.
+
+Her actions elicited no response! She waited, with a hard-beating heart.
+Still no reply: dead silence! Had he expected this--this visit of
+hers--and resolved to remain obdurate?
+
+The window blind was not pulled down to its full length. Through the
+lace edging she could see the man calmly writing; writing as if
+thoroughly engrossed in his work. Evidently the thought of his cruelty
+did not trouble him in the least.
+
+In desperation, there seemed nothing else to do, she used her fingers
+again: loudly. Masters looked up; started in astonishment. Heard a
+distinct tapping on the glass of his window!
+
+He walked to the casement; pulled the cord attached to a spring roller,
+and in a moment the blind had shot up. Outside all was moonlight
+brightness. At first he looked straight away; saw only the sea with the
+intervening roadway. Then, suddenly, at the side, on the steps, saw a
+woman with a ghastly white, haggard face looking at him! The Woman He
+Loved!
+
+Start? He almost jumped in his amazement! Was he dreaming? Was it his
+phantasy? Then he came plump to earth; lost no further time in surmises;
+went to the door.
+
+The room opened on to the hall; the street door was but a couple of
+yards away. He had gripped its handle and opened it in a moment. The
+woman was there--no phantasy--flesh and blood, clinging to the railings.
+
+"My God! What has happened to bring you at this hour?"
+
+"Just--a--moment!"
+
+The answer given weakly; breathlessly. A swerve, and she would have
+fallen, but for an almost nerveless clutch at the railings--but that he
+was by her side in a moment, with a strong upholding arm round her
+waist.
+
+There was unconsciousness of his clasp; things were all going round with
+her.... She had a feeling of being lifted; then set down again.
+Then--then a blankness: consciousness left her.
+
+For a brief moment Masters held her in his arms; her whole weight. For a
+brief moment the blood coursed wildly through his veins; surged
+brainwards. A wild, mad impulse seized him: to press his lips to hers,
+helpless, passive as she lay there.
+
+With difficulty he restrained himself. Laid down his burden reverently;
+her angel's face seemed eloquent of innocence. Once, surely once on a
+time, it had spoken truth. Ah! What Might Have Been.
+
+She opened her eyes. Found herself lying on a sofa. Masters standing by
+her side, holding brandy. She tried, feebly, to push it away; but his
+now full-of-authority voice commanded:
+
+"Drink!"
+
+She was constrained to do so by reason of a hand which went under and
+lifted her head; another which placed the glass to her lips....
+Struggling to a sitting position, passing her hand across her eyes, with
+a pitiful little drooping at the corners of her mouth, she said:
+
+"I beg your pardon for--for--Was I silly? Did I--I felt a little faint."
+
+He remained watching her. His own face had grown almost the colour of
+hers. He had touched her, had had her hand in his, had felt the softness
+of her hair! It seemed to him as if the noise of the beating of his
+heart drowned the ticking of the clock.
+
+"Tell me," he inquired, still supporting her, "what brings you here so
+late?"
+
+She shook her head. Womanlike, answered his question by another:
+
+"Didn't the girl tell you?"
+
+"What girl?" He asked in surprise. "Didn't the girl tell me what?"
+
+"About Gracie. I--I sent to you half-an-hour ago. She--they tell me--I
+think--Oh, my God!--I am so--so afraid!--is dying. She asked for you
+again and again. You sent a message that you would come tomorrow."
+
+"I!"
+
+His astonished look, the blaze of suddenly aroused anger in his eyes,
+frightened her. Could he be even now deceiving her? His kindness--was it
+falsity? She hurried on with her explanation; in her embarrassment the
+words tumbled from her lips.
+
+"Yes. You did--did you not? Ah! Don't tell me there was any mistake--the
+girl saw you herself! I ought to be with Gracie now, but you wouldn't
+come when I sent for you. She--I--thought if I came for you, you
+wouldn't be so hard. You could not--oh, you could not--if you knew that
+perhaps her very life depended on you."
+
+In speaking she had fallen on her knees; knelt to him in her entreaty.
+It hurt; he could not bear to see her--a woman--in this attitude of
+supplication to him. Almost roughly he raised her to her feet.
+
+When erect, not seeing through her tear-streaming eyes, choked with her
+emotion, she plucked at his coat sleeve. The action horrified him;
+recalled the night he had stood beside his mother's death-bed; the dying
+woman had plucked at the counterpane in just such a way. Roughly--to
+hide his aroused emotion--he shook himself free.
+
+Then she seized on and took his hand in her own burning hot shaking
+ones. Continued to plead, sobs breaking her utterance:
+
+"It is a child; a little child dying! She wanted to see you so much! The
+doctor said we were to gratify her, soothe her, and perhaps get her to a
+sleep which will save her life. You will come back with me--oh, you
+will, will you not? She knows I have come to fetch you. She was so
+confident you would come! I--I have annoyed you, or done something to
+displease you, I know that, but I am all humility now, Mr. Masters;
+humble, oh, so humble!"
+
+She had slid to her knees again before he could stop her; continued;
+
+"Humbly begging your pardon for whatever I have done. Praying you, for
+my little child's sake, to come back with me, please.... Please....
+Please!"
+
+For a second time he stooped and raised the sobbing woman; bodily picked
+her up. He was naturally a strong man, and the feeling filling him just
+then lent additional strength.
+
+He was so much moved by the present that he lost sight of all he had
+heard, all he had seen in the past. Only knew that this woman, whom he
+loved with all his heart and soul, whose shoes he would have kissed,
+knelt to him.
+
+"How dare you?"
+
+His question was put fiercely, as in that moment of lifting, he held her
+tightly to him. He repeated it:
+
+"How dare you kneel to me? How dare you beg of me to do what the most
+inhuman wretch in the world would do?"
+
+For a moment he left her side; inside that time had slipped into his
+overcoat and drawn a cap from his pocket.
+
+"Finish that brandy."
+
+There was that in his voice which commanded obedience; she never thought
+of disobeying.
+
+"You will come?"
+
+She put the question tremblingly; holding the glass to her lips as she
+did so with a shaking hand.
+
+"At once."
+
+A feeling of anger took possession of him: that she could put such a
+question; he continued:
+
+"How can you ask?"
+
+Her only answer was a soulful, grateful cry; a cry from her heart:
+
+"Thank God!"
+
+He was feeling himself considerably less of a hero than on the last
+occasion of their meeting. But this was not a time for thought; as he
+opened the door he said, speaking almost gruffly:
+
+"You can see your way?"
+
+There was quite light enough shed by the moon for that; and there was
+light ahead too! She knew she could rely on him; the very sound of his
+voice told her that; was an inspiration in itself. Making her way to the
+hall door she staggered out; down the little stone flight to the
+pavement.
+
+Ere she reached the bottom step, he had turned down the lamp, closed the
+house door and joined her.
+
+"Take my arm.... Cling to me tightly. You are not fit to walk alone."
+
+And she clung. Forgot all he had said to her. Just had something strong
+and powerful to cling to in her time of trouble, and she clung. Her
+heart beat so as to pain her. She heard him speak and spoke to him in
+reply. But all the while her heart was full of prayers of gratitude. God
+had been very good to her.
+
+Every step they took brought them nearer the bungalow. Nearer the
+realization of hopes upon which she had almost erected a monument. She
+knew--felt rather--for certain that he would save Gracie. Faith was
+strong in her.
+
+He kept her talking all the way they walked. Thought to divert her mind
+from thoughts of the sick chamber they were coming to. But she wanted to
+think of it; there was happiness in the thought. Her companion's voice
+rang so cheerily--it gave her hope. There seemed magic in it; power to
+dispel doubts and fears.
+
+"What did you mean by a girl and a message you sent half-an-hour ago? My
+landlady went to bed about nine o'clock. There has not been a soul near
+the house since."
+
+"A mistake evidently."
+
+She answered feebly. Was too fatigued to seek explanation. He was there,
+going home with her--that was enough.
+
+"In some way, yes. But there was no mistake in your thinking me capable
+of such brutality as----"
+
+He stopped. Recollected the words he had himself used to her in his
+anger at their last meeting. She was entitled to judge him so; was fully
+justified. The reflection was bitter as gall.
+
+She had no suspicion why he paused. Had she known, her answer might have
+been different. As it was she said meekly:
+
+"Please don't be angry with me."
+
+It would have been impossible for her to choose words more likely to
+touch him in his present mood of self-reproach. She spoke too with such
+an appeal in her tremulous voice, that retention of his anger would have
+meant changing his whole nature.
+
+He strode on. It was all she could do to keep up with him. His anxiety
+was to get where he might be of help. He forgot; he had had so little to
+do with women.
+
+They reached the bungalow. Divested themselves of their outdoor garments
+in the hall. The house was so quiet, Death himself might have been in
+possession. It struck an unpleasant chill to the new comer.
+
+Then he followed her to the sick room.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVI
+
+                            GOD'S LITTLE BOY
+
+
+Gracie was sitting up in bed, propped up by the pillows. Masters gave a
+sigh of relief: they were not too late. Death might be knocking at the
+door, but had not yet been admitted.
+
+The child looked expectantly at the door as her mother opened it. Her
+cheeks and eyes were bright with the fever in them. Then the expectant
+look mellowed into a smile. She had seen the man behind!
+
+"I knew you would come, Prince Charlie!"
+
+"Of course you did! Knew I should come when I knew you wanted me. I
+shouldn't have been much of a Prince Charlie if I hadn't, should I?"
+
+Masters sat on the bed with his back against the headrail. Put his arm
+round the little one and snuggled her to him. She nestled up to him with
+a croon--a little grunting ejaculation of content--as he tucked the
+clothes closely round her. Did not seem to desire to talk, was just
+simply happy in having him there. He inquired:
+
+"Comfy?"
+
+"Awful."
+
+He was grieved to feel how she had fallen away. How, in a few days, she
+had grown so thin. For the mother's and child's sakes, he made no
+outward manifestation of his grief: expressed no surprise. He felt that
+his mission just then was to brighten, not to shed gloom. Spoke
+jestingly:
+
+"Now that Prince Charlie is here, what have you to say to his royal
+highness? Nothing?"
+
+"I dreamed a dream, Prince Charlie!"
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Yes. That you were married to me; that you were my husband."
+
+"Did you? Now that was something like a dream! What sort of husband did
+I make?"
+
+"I don't know. You see the dream didn't last long enough."
+
+"That was a bad job! Because if you had liked me in the dream, you might
+have married me later on."
+
+"I thought that." She spoke quite gravely. "But you see I know I should
+like you as a husband."
+
+"I am glad you think that."
+
+"Who asks? Do you say to me 'marry me,' or do I say to you 'marry me'?"
+
+"M'well, that depends. I really don't think it would matter much; which
+ever way you like best."
+
+"Of course, you would marry me if I asked you? What do I have to
+do--kneel down, like the Prince in Cinderella?"
+
+"That is the really proper way, of course. But if you have a very pretty
+pinafore on it would be a pity, wouldn't it? Then I think you could
+manage without kneeling."
+
+"I see. I could put on my black dress, though. It's got some sticky
+stuff I spilt down the front."
+
+"But I am afraid before this marriage takes place you will have to grow
+a little older."
+
+"Of course!"
+
+She essayed a laugh. The mother pricked up her ears: it was the first
+time the sound of laughter had come from those lips for many an hour;
+the child continued:
+
+"You don't think I am so silly as to think I can be married in short
+frocks, do you? What an old goose you are! Of course, I mean when I am
+bigger and wear a train."
+
+"I see. Do you think the black dress will grow too?"
+
+"N--no. I forgot that--that's my fault. But you promised."
+
+"Why certainly. I most cheerfully promise that I will marry you, if you
+ask me when you are a big girl."
+
+"A real, real promise?"
+
+"A most really, real, realiest of real promises. If you ask me when you
+are a big girl, to marry you, I promise you I will."
+
+She sighed contentedly. Nestling to him, closed her eyelids as she said:
+
+"People go away for honey-dews, don't they?"
+
+He smiled. Gathered that she had confused names by reading the label on
+his tobacco packet. She had seen him fill his pouch, and clamoured for
+the silver paper to make impressions of coins on. To her huge
+satisfaction had more than once induced him to pick up her coinage in
+the belief that they were real.
+
+"Yes," he answered. "It is usual for married persons to go away. We must
+consider where we will spend our honeymoon. You have been to the
+Hippodrome, haven't you?"
+
+Her eyes opened; sparkled at the recollection. The dustmen were banished
+for a moment as she answered:
+
+"Twice! That's where I saw Cinderella!"
+
+"That wouldn't be altogether a bad place for a honeymoon, would it? Then
+there's the Zoo--how about that?"
+
+"Lovely! You are a very dear old Prince Charlie. I think if I couldn't
+marry you I wouldn't marry anybody. I am sorry for all the other little
+girls that can't marry you. You know lots of little girls, don't you?"
+
+"Yes. But then you are my real sweetheart, you know."
+
+"I'm glad. 'Cos you can't marry more than one, can you? I hope the other
+little girls won't cry, all the same."
+
+"I don't think they will. Some of them are bigger than you; have given
+up crying."
+
+"Oh, big little girls cry! But they don't make a noise, and they don't
+like you to see. I've seen mamma cry!"
+
+Prince Charlie was silent; he too had seen the mother's tears. The child
+prattled on:
+
+"We shall have to go all the way to Heaven when we are married, shan't
+we?"
+
+He wondered what childish idea could prompt such a question; asked:
+
+"What makes you think that, darling?"
+
+"When we went to church last Sunday--no, it was the Sunday before; the
+man in the white dress said so."
+
+"Did he?"
+
+"Yes; he did really. I heard him quite plainly. He said 'marriages are
+made in heaven.' Is heaven very, very beautiful, Prince Charlie?"
+
+"Much more beautiful than we can even think it is, darling."
+
+"All the good little girls go there, don't they?"
+
+"Yes. Most certainly."
+
+"When doctors come to people they are ill, aren't they? And they die
+sometimes when they are ill, don't they?... If I die now shall I go
+right straight to heaven, Prince Charlie?"
+
+The woman kneeling by the bedside turned away her head. The trembling
+hand found her throat and helped to stifle the sob bursting there. Life
+and death were fighting for conquest. Contemplation of the battle is
+ever sad; sadder because the watchers can do nought to turn the tide of
+victory. Time was arbiter; yet the little one was speaking as if the
+Grim One's victory were assured.
+
+There was a little quaver, just a little huskiness, in Masters' voice,
+as he said:
+
+"Don't talk of dying, Gracie."
+
+"Oh, I am not going to die yet."
+
+The child's attempt at a laugh was pitiful, by reason of the lack of
+mirth in it; she continued:
+
+"I shouldn't be able to marry you till you got to heaven if I did,
+should I? How full it must be up there of little boys and girls, Prince
+Charlie."
+
+"Yes, darling."
+
+He acquiesced aloud; truthfully. Then added, under his breath:
+
+"Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven."
+
+"God is very fond of children, isn't He?"
+
+"Very fond."
+
+Again there came to him a suggestion; to himself he quoted:
+
+"Suffer little children to come unto Me."
+
+"You are very fond of little children too, aren't you?" She nestled, if
+possible, a little closer. "Mamma says she knows you are."
+
+"Mamma is right, darling. Very fond."
+
+"But you don't love any of them better than you do me, do you?"
+
+Her blue eyes were fixed on his face as she looked up, eager to hear his
+reply; quite truthfully he answered:
+
+"Not one. Not one."
+
+"I forgot." A little sigh of content. "You told me that before. You
+haven't any children of your real own, have you?"
+
+"No dear."
+
+"I'm glad of that."
+
+She sighed in the same way again. Pillowed her head more deeply on his
+arm; inquired suddenly:
+
+"God has a Child of his real own, hasn't He?"
+
+"Yes, love."
+
+"A little boy?"
+
+"Was a little boy; yes, darling."
+
+"I know. Because we keep His birthday; same as we keep mine. Only mine
+comes with the roses, His with the holly. You know--it is on Christmas
+day."
+
+"Yes; we all of us keep it, dear."
+
+"Prince Charlie?"
+
+"Yes, darling?"
+
+"Do you know any stories about God's Little Boy?"
+
+"Yes, dear; some."
+
+"Tell me--a nice story about Him--will you? No giants or bears in it,
+because I feel so sleepy--and I am too tired.... So tired.... I would
+like to go to sleep--just like this--in your arms."
+
+He bent his head. Kissed the flushed, sweet little face he was cradling
+in the hollow of his arm. Then told the story of the birth of God's
+Little Boy; in a manner adapted to the little ears listening to it.
+
+Her sleepiness grew; the blue eyes opened each time more reluctantly. As
+the little body lost its stiffness, he blue-pencilled the story down to
+the stage where God's Little Boy was lying asleep in the manger. And the
+watching angels--even as the narrator was--were continually saying:
+
+"Hus-s-h!"
+
+The fact that he repeated this part of the story again and again to
+bring in the soothing "Hus-s-sh" passed unnoticed by Gracie. Her eyes
+had closed; she was asleep. The doctor had said sleep would be her
+salvation.
+
+The crucial time--midnight--and she slept!
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVII
+
+                        THE PASSING OF THE NIGHT
+
+
+The tone of the story-teller's voice had grown softer and softer; had
+dropped lower and lower; then stopped altogether.
+
+The silence caused the woman, whose pent-up emotion had been finding
+vent in silent tears, to uplift her head. Her very soul was gladdened by
+the picture upon which her eyes rested.
+
+The man had drawn the coverlet up so that it shielded the wearied little
+eyes from the light. Her child was asleep! Peacefully sleeping in the
+arms of Prince Charlie.
+
+She had been kneeling with her face buried in her hands, on the same
+side of the bed as he sat. Now she had but to bend to reach his
+disengaged hand. The burning, feverish lips were pressed to it, with all
+the heartfelt fervour inspired by a mother's gratitude: surely the very
+strongest inspiration in the world.
+
+Ere she took her lips away he felt, drop--drop--drop. Three tears on his
+hand! Tears from the eyes of the woman to whom, in her grief, his heart
+opened. Despite the fact that he had thought it closed against her for
+ever.
+
+His heart was very full just then. A veritable agony of love was in his
+eyes as he looked at her. Passionate words were framed in his thoughts;
+rose to his lips and were choked back.
+
+Except for that strained expression in his eyes, his face was calm as
+stone; the pallor likened it to marble. But the woman's head was bent;
+his suffering was unseen by her.
+
+It pained him--her gratitude. He had done so little to deserve it.
+Indeed would have been a brute had he done less. No thanks were due to
+him; acceptance of them made him feel himself in a false position. But
+he could do nothing to restrain her--for fear of waking Gracie.
+
+She moved a little away, glancing again at the sleeping child with a
+deep sigh of thankfulness. A slight movement of his head, a look in his
+eyes, beckoned her to come closer.
+
+She understood. Noiselessly walked behind him; stood so, leaning over
+the bed rail. Her head was close to his, as he asked in an undertone:
+
+"The medicine?"
+
+"She should take it in two hours."
+
+"She must."
+
+He said that in a whisper, with a meaning glance at the child's flushed
+face.
+
+"Will it be wise to awaken her?"
+
+"Distinctly; in case of fever. Besides, at this stage, the more she
+sleeps the more easily she will go to sleep again. Poor little mite!
+This is not half so comfortable a position for her as if she were lying
+down, but I can't move her till the slumber feeling gets a tighter hold
+on her. I shall awaken her at medicine time, and she will go to sleep
+quickly enough by then in any position. Drink?"
+
+"Milk. There is some."
+
+She pointed to a jug standing on a table near by. His eyes followed the
+direction of her hand; he nodded.
+
+"Good. Now, lie you down on the sofa. Try and get some sleep yourself."
+
+She drew back in astonishment at his suggestion. Shook her head; then
+expostulated:
+
+"I could not!"
+
+"You must!"
+
+"I cou--"
+
+"You don't want to annoy--to seriously annoy me, do you?"
+
+The voice was very earnest; that voice which she found so wonderfully
+deep and thrilling. Even in its whisper there was, for her, all the
+power of great music; even in the lightest words he spoke.
+
+She brushed a tear from her eyes. Once more impulsively bent and kissed
+the hand which was resting on the rail. He whispered:
+
+"Let me ask you to lie down--to oblige me. Will you do that? You have
+not slept for long. I, as you know, am a veritable owl; a complete
+night-bird. My consumption of midnight oil is a standing joke. It is
+easier for me to keep awake than to go to sleep--oblige me."
+
+All the boy in him had departed for the time. Yet there was no effort,
+no conscious assumption of manly dignity. On the contrary, it suited him
+well. Seemed merely another phase of his character.
+
+Her answer was in as earnest a tone as he himself used; strangely
+earnest considering the smallness of his request; she said:
+
+"I would do anything--anything in the world you asked me."
+
+"Then lie down. Remember that the greatest pleasure you can give me will
+be to see you asleep. That is not very complimentary to you, is it?"
+
+That was said in an endeavour to make her smile. He was sorry he had
+spoken so when he saw how the lips curved. Sad smiles are not pretty
+things; he continued hastily:
+
+"And you may sleep in peace. Your fears may be at rest; Gracie is doing
+well. Short as has been her sleep, so far, I feel the temperature is
+lower--her breathing to be more regular. Now go."
+
+Dutifully, obediently, she went. There are some men who must be obeyed
+without question. Masters was of those--when he chose. That was not
+often. He was of so kindly a nature that he never cared to press his
+authority: unless occasion rendered that course absolutely necessary.
+
+The sofa was on the other side of the room. He furtively watched her for
+a long time, as she lay there with her eyes wide open. Watched her
+unavailing fight against sleep; smiled when at last she succumbed, when
+Nature conquered. She went to sleep: a sound sleep bred of that previous
+wakefulness and anxiety.
+
+Time passed. The hands of the clock on the mantel crept round slowly
+minute by minute, twice. Then, very quietly, very gently, he woke the
+child. She was so sleepy and drowsy that his heart smote him; it seemed
+almost cruel to rouse her.
+
+The eyes opened widely for a minute in surprise at seeing him there.
+Then she remembered; the lids half closed again. She stretched her hand
+a little higher up his shoulder and said:
+
+"You're still here, Prince Charlie."
+
+"Yes, darling. I am going to stop all night. We must not speak loudly;
+Mamma is asleep; and she is so tired."
+
+"So am I, Prince Charlie. Peepy and thirsty. Will you give me some
+milk?"
+
+"After this medicine, dear.... There. Now the milk.... My! What a
+thirsty little girlie. What? More!... We shall have to buy another cow!"
+
+He smoothed her pillow, laid her comfortably down and stroked her brow.
+Was glad to note how fast the feverishness was leaving her; she was
+distinctly cooler. In less than a minute she was peacefully asleep
+again.
+
+A good nurse, was Masters. Many trained to the calling might have taken
+hints from him. Some men are born that way.
+
+He had in his composition just the right proportions of firmness,
+kindness, and that constant thoughtfulness for others which go to make
+up the ideal attendant.
+
+Moreover, he had a way, through some subtle influence of his
+personality, of making his will felt without irritating by its actual
+expression. He rarely raised opposition; rather it fell away before him.
+
+Gracie was not the only being who succumbed to this man's latent force
+of character. Most people with whom he came in contact felt its power,
+wholly unaware of it as he was himself.
+
+Yet another satisfied glance at the sleeping figure, then he made
+preparations for the night. Quietly drawing off his boots, walked across
+the room to the fireplace. Converted his fingers into tongs, and so from
+the coalbox noiselessly replenished the fire. Then he sat down to watch;
+to watch and think.
+
+For hours he sat there without stirring. Made no movement lest he should
+disturb the sleepers. He was over-anxious perhaps--afraid to make the
+smallest sound.
+
+His reflections were not altogether in the groove they had followed
+hitherto. He had felt certainty where now he felt doubt. There were,
+too, throbbing moments when he doubted not the woman, but himself.
+
+But ever the truth, the bitter truth, rose up before him, like a great
+black veil. In it was no loophole for charity. Besides, love asks for
+love--not for compassion. Could she know what was in his mind, she would
+scornfully refuse his pity. He knew that; had no doubt of it, low as he
+deemed her to have fallen.
+
+She would reject so poor a substitute for love, and she would be right.
+There would be no hesitation; he knew that instinctively. He had once
+seen the blaze of anger in those now closed eyes; the memory remained
+with him. Yet that substitute was all he had to offer her; all he felt
+for her now--so he told himself.
+
+Was it? Was it in very truth? He asked himself the question, and his
+throbbing heart made answer. But his lips formed another reply, although
+unspoken. They were tightly shut, firmly set. The tenseness was the
+reply itself.
+
+Yet--he could not help it--he wondered whether it could be possible.
+That the woman, from whose face he scarcely took his eyes, was what he
+thought her. Whose emotion and love for her child had been so real and
+earnest, whose gratitude had shown itself in her humility to him. To
+him! He who had so grossly insulted her that night on the seat.
+
+Even in sleep, tell-tale sleep, when that watchful control which we may
+keep on our waking expression is no longer possible, even then the lines
+of her face were all of purity and gentleness.
+
+The lips were closed in sweet soft curves; a faint flush was on her pale
+cheeks; her white brow was wholly serene. It was surely as innocent a
+face as the little one's to which--he saw it now for the first time--it
+bore so striking a likeness. Was it possible that a woman could sin, or
+be sinned against, and remain unsullied?
+
+When the time for medicine came round again, he gently touched the child
+with intent to waken her. Then drew away his hand. He felt that she was
+so much cooler, the flush had almost gone from her face, that he
+determined not to disturb her. To let her awaken of her own accord....
+So the night passed.
+
+During all those long hours, Masters might have applied wisdom to a
+grasping of the situation. But it has been well said that wisdom does
+not pour knowledge from above as the clouds let down rain. It is to be
+delved for patiently and with hard toil, at the cost of flinty hands
+and, mayhap, of skinned knuckles.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVIII
+
+                        THE BREAKING OF THE DAY
+
+
+The eastern sky was painted rosier and rosier; day broke. Still the
+sleepers slept, and the watcher watched. Never moved he except when need
+arose to feed the fire.
+
+Seven o'clock. Eight o'clock. Then Gracie woke. Gracie, save for
+weakness, her own bright, clear-headed, intelligent little self. He was
+once more making up the fire. Turned round at the sound of her voice, to
+find her sitting up in bed laughing at him.
+
+"Prince Charlie! I'm ashamed of you! You dir-ty boy! Don't you know what
+tongs are made for?"
+
+Then she laughed at him again! A faint little laugh though, and so
+exhausting that after it she fell back on the pillows, scant of breath.
+
+The laugh aroused the mother, trained by love to awaken at the least
+sound. She sprang to her feet and hastened to the bedside. When she saw
+the change for the better in her child, the smile on the little face,
+thankfulness overwhelmed her.
+
+Never had waking moments been more sweet. It was less like waking than
+like a dream itself. She hugged Gracie to her bosom; just escaped crying
+over her.
+
+Masters smilingly humoured the child--a little tyranny is a welcome sign
+in a patient; said, suiting the action to the word:
+
+"Well, I'll use the coal scoop, as you object so to my hands."
+
+"Look at your fingers! Isn't he a dirty boy, mamma? I mustn't let him
+touch my clean nightgown, must I?"
+
+It was a challenge! Masters saw through the ruse. Her desire was that he
+should make pretence he wanted to catch hold of her. Then she would
+struggle to escape him. It was a game she was very fond of--he was to
+catch her after a long while--and then the romp would begin all over
+again. Fearing to excite her, he took no notice of the thrown-down
+glove; merely remarked:
+
+"Well, you look all the better for your sleep." Added, with a smile:
+"Both of you, I mean."
+
+The mother's heart was too full to speak. Her child was hers once more.
+Had come back to her from out the Valley of the Shadow of Death. After a
+long pause she managed to look up at him, tears bedewing her eyes, and
+inquire:
+
+"And you?"
+
+"Don't worry about me! I am as right as right can be. Just let me go to
+your bath-room, will you? I shall emerge from it as fresh as the
+proverbial lark."
+
+"You will stop to breakfast--"
+
+Gracie caught the suggestion in a moment; interposed eagerly:
+
+"Oh, yes, Prince Charlie! You will! Won't you? Have breakfast with
+me--out of my own tea service."
+
+"Very well. I'll have a bath, and then come and breakfast with you,
+Gracie--out of your very own cups and saucers and plates. That's
+understood."
+
+He went to the bath-room. His matutinal cold water sponge was a thing he
+would have missed dreadfully. During his absence, the doctor paid an
+early morning visit.
+
+Masters was pleased when he returned to the sick room to see the happy
+look on the mother's face. Gracie was out of danger the doctor had said.
+Was going on splendidly--thanks, she said, to----
+
+"To Prince Charlie, mamma! I heard the doctor say so. He's a fairy
+prince who comes and saves little girls."
+
+Gracie held Prince Charlie with one hand; her mother's with the other,
+as she spoke:
+
+"Prince Charlie, I want to kiss you."
+
+He submitted to the wish of the little autocrat. Both her arms went
+round his neck as she gave him what she called her extra nicest.
+
+After that there was a happy breakfast party. The cups were very small;
+Gracie, propped up with pillows, had to fill them many times. But that
+was just as well; the greater demand, the greater her pleasure.
+
+The plates, too, were not quite large enough to hold ordinary slices of
+bread and butter. But then, as Gracie explained, you could hold your
+bread in your hands, couldn't you?
+
+As for the cups, small cups were very fashionable--mamma had told her
+so. It wasn't good manners to eat and drink too much; even if you were
+ever so hungry. But it was quite good form to say the tea was hot even
+if it was quite cold. That was part of the game.
+
+The child's daily improvement was of the rapid kind. In less than a week
+she was skipping about the room. In ten days, well wrapped up, was
+playing--literally skipping--on the sun-lit sands.
+
+And during the ten days? The author and the mother drifted apart! As the
+child's convalescence became assured his visits grew less in number;
+shorter in length.
+
+From visiting three times a day his calls came down to once. His usual
+hour's visits were curtailed. He stayed but a quarter of that time.
+
+When the child asked a reason, he was busy, he said. But the mother,
+listening, was not for a moment deceived. Read in his eyes that there
+had been no removal of his doubt of her. Her pride rose--rose higher and
+higher and higher day by day.
+
+Her struggle was a hard one, to keep the bitter resentful feeling down.
+She endeavoured to stifle it with thought of the gratitude she owed him.
+But it was hard, terribly hard. She was not of a lachrymose temperament
+at all, but her eyes often tear-filled when she thought of him.
+
+He was cold to her; grew more so; coldly courteous and reserved.
+Instinctively he feared his own weakness. Kept so close a guard upon
+himself, so firm a brake upon his feelings, that intercourse with him
+became depressing and wearying.
+
+There was no longer the old easy flow of talk; words came with
+difficulty; conversation was an effort on both sides. Forced
+conversation is usually a failure.
+
+She saw clearly that but for his love for the child--and that, she knew,
+was genuine--he would not have come to the house at all. She felt that
+all the while he spoke to her courteously and politely, he was
+suspicious of her. She showed nothing of her indignation; that would
+only have been acknowledgment of the hit.
+
+Suspicious of what? She asked herself; asked not once, but a hundred
+times a day. Her pride would not allow her to put the question to him;
+so they drifted further and further apart. To her it seemed as with
+Ichabod: the glory had departed.
+
+Sorry? She was heart-broken over it. She had not learned to love him:
+she had cared for him all along. More even than she had known, more than
+she knew even now. The sweet, helpful gentleness of his care for her
+child when sick, had shown him in a light in which few women would have
+failed to admire--nay, more than that: to love him.
+
+He was a veritable Prince to her; she could have worshipped him. Her
+soul had gone out to him--and his to her--so naturally she had scarce
+noticed its passage. She felt she had known him all her life; so
+perfectly their thoughts and views seemed to dovetail one another.
+
+There had been no shaping and moulding and rubbing off of corners; no
+making of rough edges to fit evenly; all that is usually the work of
+time. It is said that there is no soul but somewhere on this crowded
+earth another soul responds unto its needs. The meeting is still a
+rarity, but kindly old Time goes on with his everlasting pruning and
+polishing and planing down to suit mutual requirements.
+
+He has them--has the man with the scythe and hour glass--in his
+workshop; hundreds and thousands of young couples. He lets them rub
+along together, Fate having joined them, until the roughnesses are all
+worn away and it is scarcely noticeable--certainly not by the young
+people themselves--that they were not expressly made for each other.
+
+The manufactured article produced in that workshop of Old Time is
+durable and generally gives satisfaction. Looks so much like the real
+thing that most people want nothing better. Some people prefer it even,
+take more pride in it.
+
+Besides, the Merchandise Marks Act is not in force in regard to this
+particular class of goods, so there is not much loss. It all bears the
+same label, and there is no penalty for deceiving the public. It is all
+marked--hall marked: Love.
+
+Sometimes, however, it happens that two souls come together whom Nature
+has really designed and moulded each to each. It is fraught with much
+sweetness, such a meeting; sweetness as of music. The harmonies are so
+perfect and so pure, it seems no power in Heaven or Earth could destroy
+the enduring melody by a jarring note.
+
+The swelling tones would rise and fall and echo, long after the
+discordance had subsided. Real love is very rare, rarer than gold and
+diamonds, but it is found sometimes. In out-of-the-way places, too;
+wholly unsought, conjoining the hearts of man and woman by the closeness
+and perfection of their union and coincidence.
+
+She had come to think, and he had thought so, too, that God had framed
+them so, the one to the other. Fight the idea as she would, in her
+woman's weakness she thought so still. He, in his manly strength,
+endeavoured to crush the thought as it rose in his bosom.
+
+But it was there to crush.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIX
+
+                            PLAYING THE SPY
+
+
+When the child had passed all the signposts on the road of
+convalescence, had reached perfect health, Masters ceased his visits to
+the bungalow. His interest in Gracie induced him not to avoid meeting
+her on the front.
+
+The child was all warmth and affection and love for the man she was
+going to marry. The mother hid her aching heart behind a smile: a
+woman's usual veil. It was not what a novelist describes as a sad sweet
+smile; it had degenerated into an hysterical, jerky, clattering, little
+laugh.
+
+The weather continued fine; the author prolonged his stay. For that
+reason--anyway, for his own satisfaction he set down that as the
+cause--he stayed on at Wivernsea.
+
+Not a day passed but he met his little sweetheart. Not a day passed but
+the breach between the man and woman widened. Soon the conventional
+greeting at meeting and parting came to be dreaded by each.
+
+They dared not look into each other's eyes. As hands met for those two
+brief moments, each involuntarily looked away from the other. Fingers
+were clasped limply; fell away awkwardly. Heartiness, even of the
+faintest description, was sadly lacking in the shake.
+
+One morning he had a letter from his lawyers. It called for his
+attendance in London; a question of making an affidavit over some
+copyright infringement. He resolved to catch the fast train up, and so
+be able to get back by the fast evening train down.
+
+He was at the station early, having inquiries to make. A parcel of books
+sent down to him had, by reason of the railway company's vagaries, not
+reached him. Those inquiries made and satisfied, he purchased
+newspapers.
+
+Messrs. Smith and Son occupied a space in the booking office. As he
+dealt with the juvenile representative of the great Strand firm, he was
+standing with his back to the ticket pigeon-hole. He was presently
+startled by hearing a voice he recognized, saying:
+
+"First-class, return, London, please."
+
+He turned round sharply, expecting to see the mistress of Ivy Cottage;
+he could have sworn to her voice anywhere. A woman plainly dressed,
+almost shabbily, with a long thick veil, stood purchasing the ticket.
+She repeated the demand; the ticket seller had not caught the words.
+
+Hearing it a second time, Masters had no shadow of doubt about the
+voice's owner. There were no two voices like it in the world. But the
+costume amazed him; could only be explained one way.
+
+Not a pleasant way, either. It was a disguise! Masters felt certain of
+it. She had always been well, expensively dressed. Now, by reason of
+that, the change was the more striking.
+
+There were three minutes before the train was due; five minutes passed
+before it arrived. The shabbily-dressed woman paced the platform.
+Masters watched her from the waiting-room window; five minutes of utter
+misery.
+
+The station bell rang a second time, the train came in. The veiled woman
+hurried to a first-class carriage in front of the train. The guard
+opened a door and she entered one of its compartments. A moment after
+Masters had entered another.
+
+His purchases at the bookstall lay on the seat beside him all the way to
+London; he did not read a line of them. For two whole hours he sat
+stonily looking out of the window, thinking. Thinking, as well as the
+numb feeling of wretchedness and horror holding him would allow.
+
+It was the first really cold day of the approaching winter. With a view
+to travelling in comfort, Masters had unpacked, and was wearing a long
+heavy ulster. It changed his appearance altogether. He knew that, and,
+bred of the knowledge, there came a desire to track the woman in the
+other compartment.
+
+With his coat-collar up, she would not be likely to recognize him. It
+would be possible to follow her and see what this mysterious disguise
+and flight to London meant; whether she was really as black as his
+suspicion painted her, as appearances represented her.
+
+Was it a gentlemanly thing to do?... He did not pause to answer his own
+question. Curiosity and the desire, the necessity, to either set at rest
+or confirm his fears outweighed everything. Any certainty is better than
+suspense; we always say so and feel it so--until that certainty is
+known.
+
+His mind was quickly made up: to follow her. Besides, how could he tell
+but what she might have need of him; the disguise led to the thought of
+such a possibility. Masters' was a fertile brain; a dozen such
+possibilities entered his mind at once. Disguise very frequently meant
+danger. If that were the case it was his duty, as a man, to shield her.
+
+He would not fail her--so he argued with himself. A desire to do any
+particular thing causes us to find reasons for its justification;
+excellent reason. He had made up his mind to follow her.
+
+At Charing Cross the woman in the front part of the train alighted....
+Got into a hansom cab.... Masters got into another. A disturbing
+recollection came to him of a private detective in one of his own books
+who had acted in similar fashion. But he was not deterred by it.
+
+"Where to, sir?"
+
+Through the trap in the cab roof the inquiry came. Looking up he
+answered the driver:
+
+"Keep that hansom in sight. I want to see, and not be seen--do you
+understand?"
+
+"I'm fly."
+
+As the Jehu answered he shut one eye. Then, as he closed the trap, said
+to himself:
+
+"Man from the Yard--what's she been a-doin' of, I wonder?"
+
+The first cab went over Westminster Bridge, turned into Lambeth, pulled
+up outside a corner public house. The second cab slowed down and passed
+the first at walking pace. The woman was paying her fare. Then she
+entered a door on the glass panels of which were inscribed the words:
+
+                       BOTTLE AND JUG DEPARTMENT
+
+Masters' cabman knew his business; promptly reined in his horse just
+round the corner.
+
+"That do you, sir?"
+
+He put the question as Masters alighted, and was feeling in his trousers
+pocket; the driver continued:
+
+"She's gone into the _Green Dragon_ round the corner, she has. We passed
+the pub a minute agone."
+
+Masters winced. Then reflected that the cabman was only fulfilling his
+duty zealously. Rewarded him with a half-sovereign.
+
+"Going back, sir?"
+
+Golden fares are rare enough to be worth looking after for a return
+journey.
+
+"Perhaps--I don't know."
+
+"I'll be stopping here, sir--here, for half-an-hour if you should want
+me, sir."
+
+Masters nodded.... Passed through a door brass-plated with the words:
+
+                            HOTEL ENTRANCE.
+
+A flight of stairs faced him. To the left was another door,
+glass-lettered with the word:
+
+                                SALLOON.
+
+Into the saloon Masters went. Square panels of bevelled ground glass
+pivoted on their centres along the top of the bar, shielding the
+occupants of the saloon from the gaze of those in the opposite bar.
+
+As he entered, Masters heard the woman he had followed enquiring over
+the bar:
+
+"Mr. Rigby? He is staying here--he expects me."
+
+The hesitation in the enquiring voice made the barman look up.
+Nervousness in women is rather an uncommon thing to find in the bar of a
+Surrey-side public-house.
+
+"Oh, yes. But you've come in the wrong way. Round the corner and in at
+the hotel entrance. You'll find him on the second floor, room 15."
+
+She went out. The bar-tender crossing to him, Masters called for a
+whisky and soda. Tasted, then tilted the glass, and let the contents be
+soaked up by the sawdust on the floor. It was not a drink which he
+thought likely to benefit him. The Lambeth blend of whisky did not
+somehow seem to tickle his palate.
+
+Watching through the saloon door, he presently saw the veiled woman come
+in through the hotel entrance, and ascend the stairs. Allowing
+half-a-minute to elapse, he passed out and followed in her steps. As he
+commenced the ascent of the second flight he heard a door close; guessed
+it to be the door of room No. 15.
+
+Reaching the passage on the second floor he noted that the door of room
+No. 14 was shut. No. 15 was shut too. No. 16 was open. He paused on its
+threshold. Cast an eye round; not a soul was in the passage; entered.
+Then the door of No. 16 was shut too; shut, and the key turned on the
+inside.
+
+A hurried glance satisfied him that it was an unoccupied room. He was
+glad of that; an explanation that he had entered to wash his hands would
+suffice, should need of such excuse arise. All the rooms, he guessed,
+were bedrooms on that floor.
+
+A door was in the dividing wall of Nos. 15 and 16. To that Masters
+applied his ear. A sense of the contemptibility of the action was strong
+upon him; yet he could not refrain from acting so.
+
+Something crossed his mind about the end justifying the means. It was a
+principle he had always violently combated; practice and theory are
+sometimes at variance. Shame was merged into a feeling of gladness: that
+there was no key in the lock; it made hearing easier. And he meant to go
+the whole length; to listen.
+
+As he did so, reflected that such a despicable act as eavesdropping
+would have been impossible to him a month ago. Suggested to himself that
+she had brought him to it.
+
+That is men's way--even the best of them.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XX
+
+                         A HORRIBLE REVELATION
+
+
+The man she had inquired for in the bar, Rigby--he guessed it was
+he--was speaking. A husky-toned voice, but the listener could plainly
+catch the words:
+
+"There! Don't cry, old girl. I have broken my promise to you, I know.
+You thought I had gone out of England, and I haven't. Well, I am
+going--going early to-morrow."
+
+"Dick!"
+
+"Gospel truth, old girl. When I said good-bye last time, I meant it. But
+I got in with the boys and it was the old story. You know; I needn't
+tell you. I don't blame the boys; they think it a lark, that's all.
+First one comes and then the other, and each one doesn't know how far
+I've gone already. I have myself to blame; no one else. I have been
+lying here over a fortnight with the D.T.'s--came out of them two days
+ago. Doctor says I shall be able to go abroad to-morrow. He's a good
+sort; says the Mediterranean cruise will be the thing to set me on my
+legs. You said so; he says so. He has been kind enough to see to things,
+booked my berth, and I am going to-morrow from St. Katharine's dock on
+_La Mascotte_.
+
+"Dick!"
+
+"I am speaking honest, old girl; I am going. I might have gone without
+writing to you to come up and see me, and you would have been spared
+this, but I couldn't. I felt that I wanted to say good-bye, old girl,
+because--because you've been so good to me--more than I deserve.
+Because," there was a quaver in the speaker's voice, "because I believe
+it will be the last time."
+
+"Dick!"
+
+The listener, a fierce pain at his heart, heard the catch in her voice,
+the gasping way in which she ejaculated the name. The man continued:
+
+"It is possible to travel too far on the downward road. So far that you
+get lost for ever and ever in the valley. I have been down a great big
+distance. There is a presentiment in possession of me that, somehow, I
+shall never come back to England. That I shall never come back to worry
+you again!"
+
+"Dick! Dick! Dick!"
+
+The listening man could hear the heart-breaking sound; the woman's sobs
+as she spoke. Despite Rigby, despite all, his heart went out to her.
+Involuntarily he stretched out his arms. They fell to his side again,
+empty. There was the door between.
+
+"Don't cry. After all, it is perhaps for the best. See what a failure I
+am. If I drink myself to death perhaps it would be best. Pity it takes
+so long, that's all. See how like a blackguard I have behaved to you."
+
+The listener could not see, but he knew her actions to be expostulating.
+
+"Ah, it's so; it's so.... I know; I'm sober now. When I come out of it I
+lie thinking, thinking, thinking. Realize then what a foul beast I have
+made of myself. When I think how I have behaved to you--to you, my
+staunch, devoted, dear old pal, the one soul who has stuck to me through
+thick and thin, I hate myself, I hate myself; and I wonder you don't
+hate me too."
+
+"You know I love you, Dick. You know that no soul in the whole world
+loves you as I do."
+
+"Somehow I'd rather see you fly into a rage and call me all the evil
+names you could invent than look at me so lovingly and sadly; I would
+indeed. I should feel more that I had deserved to lose you; it would
+hurt less. But I know you love me; that is one reason why I have
+determined on trying this Mediterranean trip. Do you know, before I sat
+down to write to you yesterday, I made a balance of my hands. Held the
+pen in one and a razor in the other----"
+
+"Dick! Dick! Oh, for God's sake don't talk so!"
+
+"You would never have known, Mab. I am staying here in the name of
+Rigby. You don't read the police intelligence in the papers. If you had,
+you would never have linked an account of a drunkard's suicide in a
+Lambeth hotel with me. You would have thought me on blue water, keeping
+my promise to you."
+
+The man at the door could hear the sounds of her grief still. It was
+agony to him; he ground his teeth. That she should suffer so, and he so
+close, so helpless to help her!
+
+"The pen won the day, Queenie." The speaker was trying to infuse a note
+of cheeriness. "Don't cry, old girl; there is nothing to cry about after
+all. I'm here right enough. I wrote you to come up; to say good-bye to
+the man who has wronged you so. If I live through the trip I shall come
+back a better, sounder, healthier man. With the courage to fight this
+drink devil for life or death, for all I am worth."
+
+"And, please God, conquer him, Dick!"
+
+"And what about yourself, little woman? Have you been ill? You look worn
+out, worn and thinner. You haven't been worrying about me?"
+
+"No, Dick; about Grace. She has been ill; dying once, I thought, but
+thank God she is as well to-day as ever she was."
+
+"Our little Gracie has been as ill as all that? Poor little soul! And
+I've been drinking from morning till night, selfish brute that I am,
+without any thought for you or her. Good God! Why was I born--answer me
+that?"
+
+The listening man had started back, horrified at the speaker's use of
+the word, Our. So stupefied was he that he hardly heard the latter part
+of the man's speech. So, then, this drink-sodden being, posturing under
+the name of Rigby, was the father of Gracie! Of the little girl he had
+helped to nurse back to life.
+
+He shook off the numbness which had gripped him; there was more to hear.
+The thread was taken up again; the mother was speaking:
+
+"----for us to love each other dearly, Dick, all through our lives. Let
+that be reason enough. Banish those presentiments of yours, dearest. Go
+bravely on this voyage. It must benefit you, give you strength--moral
+strength."
+
+"I am a pretty nice sort of beauty to be thinking of moral strength----"
+
+"Don't turn away from me like that; I can't bear it! Pray for strength,
+Dick; pray for it! Oh, come back to me, Dick dear, your old, old self.
+My heart aches for you all the while you are away from me. Come back to
+me, Dick, come back to my loving arms, stronger and better--yourself."
+
+"I'm going to, old girl--going to try hard this time. I can be stronger
+when I am away from the boys. On board _La Mascotte_ there won't be a
+soul I shall know. It will be torture for me to travel in solitude, for
+I don't expect such a wreck as I am will make friends. I carry my story
+written on my face; every man can read it first glance. At the same
+time, there will be safety in it. From the time I set foot on deck till
+the time I come back--if ever I come back----"
+
+"Dick!"
+
+"I'll only take claret; will not touch a drop of spirits; so help me
+God!"
+
+The listener thought he heard a sigh, a despondent sigh, as the man
+uttered this resolution; probably it had been so resolved before. But it
+might have been fancy; the dividing door was too thick for him to hear
+with certainty.
+
+"God will help you, Dick. He must. I believe you, Dick, I believe you.
+You mean well, and you will succeed. You will come back, and we shall be
+happy. My dear, dear old Dick; happy again, I know it."
+
+"We will hope so, Queenie."
+
+"Another man, Dick! A strong, healthy and well man. And what I am
+praying to see, Dick--for I think the tie will help you to keep
+straight--well and able to marry."
+
+There ensued a moment's silence. The listener's imagination supplied the
+gap. What he had seen at the back of the bungalow at Wivernsea helped
+him thereto. He heard the passionate sobbing; the impact of their lips.
+Then he heard no more.
+
+A great blurring veil seemed to come over sight, hearing, even faculty;
+to enshroud him. He staggered away as if physically injured. What he had
+heard hurt so.
+
+On the other side of the door were Gracie's mother, Gracie's father. And
+they were talking of his coming back from a voyage well enough to marry.
+
+His thoughts went away. Were of that sweet, innocent little child down
+at Wivernsea. As she came before him he almost groaned; it was too
+terrible, too horrible. Poor little Gracie!
+
+Trembling fingers unlocked the door; he got downstairs somehow; down to
+the level of the bar. Called for brandy there, and, regardless of its
+quality, swallowed it.
+
+It was a mechanical act. Instinct told him that he needed brandy, and he
+wanted to be doing something; inaction at that moment was maddening.
+
+He walked outside.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXI
+
+                              THE ONLY WAY
+
+
+The cabman was of a speculative nature. Had hung on the chance of
+Masters' needing to return. Half-sovereign fares are not picked up every
+hour in the day; the man who dispensed them was worth waiting for.
+
+"Where to, sir?"
+
+The query called down through the trap in the cab roof. The reply was:
+
+"Back again."
+
+Directions so given, because, for the moment, the fare could think of
+nowhere else.... The cool air blowing on his face gradually brought him
+back to his usual clear perception of things; he remembered.
+
+The woman he loved so, was lost and dead to him; he quite realized that.
+Knew too that he loved her still; would do anything to ensure or bring
+about her happiness. Pity--heart-felt, whole-souled pity--was mingled
+with his feeling for her now.
+
+Pondering over his position, he came to think of her as more sinned
+against than sinning. Almost joined in the prayer that the man she
+loved--whose existence was a bar to his own success--might return well
+enough to marry.
+
+For Gracie's sake too--sweet, winsome little Gracie! If the man returned
+well enough to marry it would silence tongues. Surely it was a good
+prayer.
+
+Then Gracie would grow up knowing nothing of her childhood. No bar
+sinister would, anyway, be apparent on her escutcheon. She could travel
+her road in life without a dark shadow o'erhanging it.
+
+If he returned well enough to marry! Why shouldn't he? Or was he, in the
+solitude which he feared, likely to become despondent again? Was he not
+more liable to be so, in abstinence from those accustomed stimulants?
+Despondent even to the clutching of a razor again?
+
+What manner of man was he that had stolen the heart of Gracie's mother?
+What manner of man was he who could have led astray so pure, so loving a
+soul?
+
+Surely Rigby had spoken rightly; it were best for such a man no longer
+to cumber the earth. And yet--that was not the only consideration. There
+was another. Two: Gracie and her mother.
+
+The man had said that he feared solitude. Had spoken of his personal
+appearance with loathing. Had feared that no soul would wish to speak to
+him; that Drink was written on his face. Even allowing for exaggeration,
+there must be a basis of truth.
+
+Was it wise to let him spend that voyage alone? Was it not possible to
+send with him a companion? One who would interest him; divert his
+thoughts; take him out of himself?
+
+A companion to do this for her sake--for her child's sake. Why not
+himself? What was there in it after all? Not even self-sacrifice.
+Masters felt that a voyage would do him good. That to stop in England
+just then, where he was, would stifle him. Let him go on to the broad
+ocean where he would be able to breathe.
+
+His work he could take with him. Write as well, better, on the ship than
+in his own rooms. Why not? There was a soul to help to save! There was a
+woman to be made happy! A child to be taken out of the range of the
+pointed finger of shame! Why not?
+
+If it were true, as the mother said, that he had saved the child's life,
+was it to be saved only that she should suffer misery thereafter?
+Undeserved misery in all the future years? Should he not prevent that if
+he could?
+
+Himself! Who better fitted? His heart and soul would be in the act. He
+would be working for those he loved! What a triumph if he could restore
+this man to her Well Enough To Marry. Why not?
+
+Resolution: he would go. Yes, he would go on to the boat: it was the
+only way. The cab passed a bill-poster's hoarding. A drama being played
+in London just then was: _The Only Way_. The mind of the man in the cab
+had run in keeping with the theatre announcement. He thought of Sidney
+Carton.
+
+He would go! The hero of that _Tale of Two Cities_ was not the only man
+who had made sacrifices for the woman he loved; although his own
+sacrifice was hardly worth such a name. In his heart he wished it
+greater.
+
+The thought trembled through his mind, result of the years of
+journalistic labour, that his cruise would serve in affording a supply
+of copy. He hated himself for the thought; it seemed to sully the purity
+of his motive, his love. He wanted to give to the woman he loved
+whole-souled service. Yet was weak enough to want an excuse.
+
+Sidney Carton, when his good work was accomplished, died on the
+scaffold. When Masters had accomplished his good work--well, there would
+be time enough to think of that later.
+
+Life was worth living just then: for her sake. It would have little
+value to him after; after its work was over. Then he would be content,
+wishful to rest.
+
+The cab had reached Parliament Street. The fare's hand went through the
+roof trap; the driver reined up.
+
+"There is a passenger--ship's passenger--agent's, somewhere round here,"
+he called up to the bending-down driver, "Cockspur Street, I think; do
+you know it?"
+
+"So many about, sir. Might you happen to know the name, sir?"
+
+"M'no. Yes! I have just remembered it: Sewell and Crowther."
+
+"Oh, yes; I know the place, sir. Do you want to drive there?"
+
+"Please."
+
+"Right, sir."
+
+A few minutes later the cab stopped and he was alighting at the
+passenger agents' door. Entering, he said to the counter clerk:
+
+"You are booking for _La Mascotte_, leaving for the Mediterranean,
+aren't you?"
+
+"Yes, sir; we're the agents."
+
+"Have you any berths left?"
+
+"Oh, yes, sir, a number. It's an off time of the year, and we do not
+fill up from London. We are stopping at coast stations. We shall fill up
+from those."
+
+"Let me see a plan of the ship."
+
+"Yes, sir.... That's it. Which class--which part of the boat do you
+want, sir?"
+
+Masters ignored the question. Pointing to the pen and ink list of names,
+inquired:
+
+"These are the names of those who have already booked their passages?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+Having located what he wanted he turned to the plan of the ship again,
+saying:
+
+"This is a two-berthed cabin. One berth is taken, I see. Is the other
+vacant?"
+
+"Yes, sir. But you can book one in an empty cabin if you like. You will
+have more room, unless we fill up."
+
+"Thank you. I prefer this one. I think I happen to know the Mr. Rigby
+who has the other half."
+
+"Oh, I see, sir--friend of yours--of course, companionship. I beg your
+pardon."
+
+Masters paid his passage money; booked in the name of Charleigh;
+inquired the time of sailing on the morrow.
+
+"Tide serves at noon, sir. The vessel will go out on top of the water."
+
+"From St. Katharine's?"
+
+"Yes, sir.... Good-day, sir, and thank you.... Not that way, sir....
+This door on the left.
+
+"Good-day."
+
+The cabman was waiting. Stooped down from his perch to receive
+instructions.
+
+"The Telegraph Office, Charing Cross."
+
+There the fare despatched a wire to his Wivernsea landlady; telling her
+to pack everything of his in his portmanteaux, and send them up by the
+afternoon train to the care of the Cloak Room, Charing Cross.
+
+Then he drove to his publishers. He would be away some time, and there
+were certain business arrangements to be made.... Then to his flat in
+Shaftesbury Avenue. He slept there the night.
+
+More correctly, he spent the night there. Spent it in pacing to and fro,
+recalling all the events of that long last month. All the happiest days;
+all the most miserable ones.
+
+He was heart-full of pity for the woman, poor soul! Wished he could wipe
+away the bitterness of his words that night on the seat at Wivernsea.
+That was impossible. But he could try to make amends.
+
+In the early morning--dawn just lightening the sky--he wrote a note to
+Gracie's mother: directed it to Ivy Cottage. Just a purely formal little
+letter, saying he was called away on urgent business and would not
+return to Wivernsea again.
+
+As coming from an author it was a disappointing note; there was nothing
+clever in it. Most authors' notes, perhaps because literary fireworks
+are supposed to be contained in them, are disappointing.
+
+He sent his fondest love to his little sweetheart Gracie, and expressed
+a sincere hope for her mother's future happiness. That letter later on
+in the morning he dropped into a post office.
+
+Gracie's mother, who had journeyed home by the previous evening's train,
+read it, dry-eyed.
+
+The dryness which burns.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXII
+
+                               WHITE LIES
+
+
+Masters gathered in his luggage from Charing Cross cloak room; reached
+St. Katharine's Docks with it; got aboard _La Mascotte_.
+
+He was first in the cabin; was arranging his things in an orderly way
+when Mr. Rigby came aboard. The second tenant of the cabin looked every
+bit of the wreck he had painted himself.
+
+The author, quick of observation, gauged him to be a man of twenty-five
+or thereabouts. Younger possibly, but dissipation is an artist who
+graves deep lines; wrinkles are ageing things. Still of fine physique,
+but dull-eyed, heavy, face bluish and swollen.
+
+Masters, sweeping a comprehensive glance round, brushed up the new comer
+with it; said generally:
+
+"I am first to take possession. It seems we are to be close companions
+on this voyage; too close, in one sense."
+
+He referred to the size of the cabin; then stretching out his hand,
+continued:
+
+"Let me introduce myself. William Charleigh, journalist. I sincerely
+hope we shall be very good friends whilst we are together."
+
+The gloom on Dick's face lighted; his colourless horizon seemed
+brightened; it was as if the sun had suddenly popped out. This cheerful,
+strong-looking man making overtures of friendship, dissipated all his
+fearsomeness of solitude on the voyage. Eagerly gripping the hand held
+out, he shook it long and earnestly; saying:
+
+"I reciprocate that! Thanks! My name's Rigby. Nothing by profession and
+very little better by nature. I have just come out of--out of an
+illness. I am taking the trip in the hope of--of getting well."
+
+"No trip like it!" Masters' response was cheerily uttered. "Take my word
+for that. I took the voyage some years ago, and it pulled me off the
+grave's brink."
+
+"Really! You look so strong and well I should not have thought you'd had
+an illness in all the days of your life."
+
+Lies, white lies, came to Masters' lips with the readiness of fiction
+flowing from his pen; he said:
+
+"I went to the dogs and the dogs nearly did for me. That's an unpleasant
+way they have when you get inside the kennel. It's a mere shave I'm here
+talking to you. I pulled up just in time."
+
+"No!"
+
+There were both astonishment and eagerness in Dick's question; both of
+the most intense kind. Masters' lying was very successful. He was acting
+so with a view to drawing his companion out.
+
+If a confession could be got from the sick man it would help. Dick would
+rely for strength and help on the man he had confessed to. That was only
+human nature.
+
+If you tell a man your troubles he is more than likely to want to tell
+you his own. A keen observer was Masters; knew that confidence begets
+confidence. So himself became very confidential.
+
+"It is a fact," he continued. "Like a great number of others, I liked
+society, and cards, and wine, and--well, I am quite cured now, so I
+don't mind confessing it. I sacrificed at the shrine of Bacchus too
+often, and Bacchus resented it. The drink god is an ungrateful sort of
+deity, isn't he? He sent me visions of snakes and other creepy-crawlies.
+When I came out of the land of visions I was the most washed-out wreck
+you ever saw. The doctor gave me up."
+
+"No?"
+
+Dick ejaculated the word almost breathlessly. His own doctor had not
+gone so far as that. There was more than a chance of hope, after all! He
+listened.
+
+"Fact. When I heard that, I was on the verge of suicide. Then they put
+me on a boat doing the Mediterranean trip; just as this one is. This
+brings back old times, and--well, here I am, you see; I am all right
+now."
+
+"And the doctor, you say--but how did you--did you conquer your
+craving?"
+
+"Sheer force of will. I took an oath that whilst I was on the ship I
+wouldn't touch a drop."
+
+"I have done that, too!"
+
+"You?"
+
+Masters started round in astonishment: really a clever piece of acting.
+
+"Yes.... Well, the cat's out of the bag now. Thank God I haven't got a
+temperance crank for a companion on the voyage. I have done what you
+have done, and I am setting out to do now what you did: coming away to
+get shut of it all. To try and break myself free from the curse."
+
+"You'll do it!"
+
+The flushed face flushed still deeper; deepened to purple, at the
+assurance. But the dulled eyes had quite an eager light in them, as the
+speaker pressed his question:
+
+"You think I will? You really think I will? That I have strength
+enough?"
+
+"Of course! It's the despondent times you have to fear; just don't fear
+them. Just hang on to me when you feel them coming. Don't get by
+yourself; it's like taking one's pill uncoated; cling to me like a
+barnacle. I'll help you to kill your blue devils!"
+
+"You will? By God!" He spoke almost breathlessly; the proffered help was
+so sweet: hit him in the face. "You're a brick! And a stranger, too;
+never set eyes on me before!"
+
+"Never. Quite right; never set eyes on you before! But remember, we've
+been burnt in the same fire. A fellow-feeling makes us--you know the
+rest."
+
+"By Jove! You are wondrous kind. Do you know, I funked this voyage;
+funked it believing there was death aboard--overboard--for me. Imagined
+every soul would read the story in my face and shun me. People are so
+apt to judge the quality of a pasture by the length of the grass."
+
+"Rot!"
+
+Masters was shuddering inwardly as he looked at his companion. This
+bloated youth, who looked five-and-twenty, yet spoke with the boyishness
+of eighteen. He dived into his secret apprehension; shuddered to think
+that the woman he loved should be linked to such a drink-sodden wretch.
+Thought of her induced him to lower the sail of his dignity.
+
+There was the hope, the chance, of reformation. When Rigby set foot on
+the vessel it had been with despair at his heart; he had attended the
+funeral of hope long ago. Things were different now. As for Masters, he
+realized that the man was young; might perhaps still meet with
+salvation.
+
+But it was a thin reed on which to rely: his youth; a two-edged fact:
+might cut either way. Masters was quite aware of that as he uttered the
+reassuring monosyllable. Spoke in a forced tone of conviction; there is
+a limit to suffering; none to fear.
+
+The odds, too, are against a drunkard's reformation; all Lombard Street
+to a China orange. Anyway, it was a fact he was going to do his level
+best to turn things to good account. The youngster must be spurred on;
+not to advance is to retreat. Not only is courage needed in facing a
+difficulty, but the ability to grapple with it; if looked in the face
+too long, it is apt to stare us out of countenance.
+
+"I believe you." Rigby spoke with grateful fervour. "Anyway, I am not
+going to face the future gloomily now!"
+
+"That's half the battle. After all, life's only a journey; it's more or
+less our own fault if we don't make a pleasure excursion of it."
+
+"I believe that."
+
+"I know it. Remember, I have been in the battle, and came out upper dog.
+So long as you win the race, what does it matter whether you had a good
+start or not?"
+
+"Anyway, I shall keep you to your word. If I feel that awful thirst
+coming on me; feel, as I have felt, that Hell's got its doors gaping
+wide open for me, I shall worry you."
+
+"You won't; not worry me. Come that moment you hear the hinges start
+creaking, and we'll try, try together, to keep the doors shut."
+
+"That you should take all this trouble----"
+
+"Trouble be hanged! Don't you know how easy it is to poke another man's
+fire?"
+
+Masters' eyes looked honestly into Dick's; he was very honest of
+purpose. Wanted, with all his soul, to keep those doors closed. For the
+sake of the woman whose trust had been betrayed; for the sake of the
+little one. He knew how facile is the descent into Hell. Knew, too, that
+a man ambitious to make a fool of himself never lacks help.
+
+How shines a good deed in this bad world! The goodness of his own was
+illuminating Masters' eyes at that moment. And he had no fear of the
+proverb: that if he conferred a favour he might expect ingratitude.
+Plainly, Rigby was not built on those lines.
+
+Dick was not much of a psychologist or mind reader. Saw only the honest
+eyes bright with enthusiasm; found them inspiriting; knew nothing of the
+inner thought prompting this extraordinary kindness.
+
+His was not an inquiring nature; in his happy-go-lucky way he accepted
+Fate unquestionably. Help had come in his way, and he snapped at it as
+suddenly as if it were a dish of snapdragon. In response to Masters'
+words, he mentally thanked his stars, physically held out his hand. In
+silence, gratefully gripped his companion; was too thankful to speak.
+
+Masters resumed his assumption of cheerfulness. Knew the difficulty he
+had to face before he spoke: putting seed into the ground does not make
+a harvest certain; said:
+
+"Now, there is another thing to discuss: about the grub."
+
+"My dear old chap!" Earnestness, conviction in his tone. "I feel as if I
+shouldn't touch food again for months."
+
+"I know. That's not an unusual symptom." Masters affected to laugh. "I
+felt like that. And if you go to the saloon table you'll feel like it
+for quite a while. Look here now!" He spoke suddenly, as if inspired
+with an idea. "Will you leave your commissariat to me?"
+
+"To you! But why on earth, now, should you be troubled to----"
+
+Masters let a shade of annoyance creep over his face. There was no
+misreading it. Assuming, too, a tone of regret; he said:
+
+"You mean that? That you would rather I did not interfere?"
+
+The facial expression and voice had the desired effect. Cheated the
+younger man--surely he must be very young!--into expostulating:
+
+"My dear old chap! For Heaven's sake don't think I mean anything of that
+sort! I'll do whatever you say."
+
+So he would; that was plainly evident. The strong will had conquered the
+weaker. Masters felt overjoyed at his success. Most hearts have secret
+drawers in them containing some good traits: if we can only find the
+spring.
+
+Moreover, strange as it seemed, Masters was conscious of the birth of a
+liking for his young companion. He was surprised, too, to realize that
+he was but a boy. Had thought him five-and-twenty at first; now imagined
+him to be not much over one-and-twenty years of age--if that.
+
+It was, in a measure, a welcome surprise. His imagination had portrayed
+Rigby as a hardened debauchee; sunken in vice as sodden in drink.
+Mingled with the surprise, too, was a feeling of wonder that Gracie's
+mother should, with one younger than herself----But there, he told
+himself, there was no accounting for these things; there was no logic or
+reason in them.
+
+"Very well, then"--Masters speaking, his face cleared of its
+cloud--"I'll arrange with the steward and the cook. Fresh milk, while it
+lasts, and beef tea right away till you feel you can compass solidity
+little and often; that is my prescription."
+
+"You are a good old chap!"
+
+Almost tears in his eyes as he spoke. He had not counted on making
+friends at all, and here, the moment he set foot on the boat, was one to
+hand. And such a one! A perfect prince of good fellows.
+
+"For some days," Dick continued, "I shall keep almost to this cabin.
+Lying down will rest me. Moreover, I am not anxious to show up to the
+crowd."
+
+Again that purple flush. Masters, considerately, was not looking. Was
+engaged hanging up his belongings and stowing them away in the limited
+space at his disposal. It was work which afforded occasion for a
+considerable display of invention and ingenuity.
+
+The cabin of a three thousand ton vessel, or of an Atlantic liner for
+that matter, offers little luxury in the way of wardrobe accommodation.
+Masters, though his personal luggage did not rival in extent that of
+Beau Brummel, yet found himself in difficulties. He turned to his
+companion; said:
+
+"I shall be inside a lot too. As a matter of fact, I'm finishing a book;
+have a lot of writing to do. So you won't be altogether alone."
+
+"That's jolly!"
+
+"Lend a hand here, old fellow, will you? See if we can shove this
+portmanteau under."
+
+Dick was only too glad to be of service; willingly rendered aid in the
+stowing away of things. Later followed suit with his own stuff. Masters
+was intent on keeping his companion occupied even with the smallest
+matters.
+
+That was the beginning of things. The author felt that he had got the
+bit in his companion's mouth; that it rested with him which road was
+taken; depended on his skill as a rider. Still there was every care and
+caution to be exercised.
+
+When you ride a young colt it is well to see that your saddle is well
+girt.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIII
+
+                           LOVE'S LABOUR LOST
+
+
+Prosperity attended the voyage; if that term may be applied to recovery
+of health. The sea-air--genial companionship had something to do with
+it--was pulling Dick round. He said he was a new man; received assurance
+of that fact from inspection of his reflection in the mirror.
+
+Although his story was no longer visible on his face, it was in his
+heart; hidden away perhaps, but there still. He had left the
+stepping-stones of milk and beef-tea a long way behind; was walking
+through square meals as vigorously as any man aboard.
+
+The friendship opened up in the little two-berth cabin had developed
+into the closest kind. On one side it had started garbed in the mantle
+of pretence. That was soon shed; sincerity taking its place.
+
+Dick's fidelity was dog-like; he followed his companion about as if
+loath to lose sight of him. Masters had discovered in him artistic
+tendencies; the ability to draw well. It was long before Dick's hand
+ceased to remind one of a jelly; when it did, Masters asked, would Dick
+oblige him by doing something?
+
+Oblige him? Dick repeated the question. Great Scott! Was there anything
+he could ask which he, Dick, wouldn't jolly well jump at the chance of
+doing. What did Charleigh take him for?
+
+The story Masters was engaged on was to be illustrated; sketches were
+needed of the proposed drawings. So the author said, speaking quite
+casually.
+
+As a matter of fact, he was anxious to find occupation for idle hands.
+Feared the provision, if he did not himself provide it, of less
+profitable work. Remembered a proverb to that effect: Satan filling a
+stellar part in it.
+
+"Let me make them for you, will you?" Dick spoke eagerly. "I can draw
+properly, really; I've had drawings in the _Strand_ and _Windsor_, and
+they're particular, you know. I did it because I loved the work; I had
+to give it up, because my hand----"
+
+Masters interrupted him; was ever anxious to prevent a harking back to
+the old days of failure. Wanted his protégé to look forward, not
+backward: at the brightness ahead, not on the horror which he hoped was
+for ever left behind.
+
+"My dear Dick, a thousand thanks! I shall be only too glad if you will."
+
+That was the commencement of an even closer intercourse; the drawings
+drew them together. The sketches had to be thought out and considered.
+On smooth days were worked at with pencil on paper.
+
+Dick's was really a skilled hand. And that hand of his--he took immense
+pride in the fact--was steady now. The ability is not given to every
+artist to do line work on a boat. The throbbing from the engine room
+usually permeates every part of the vessel.
+
+So the two men would sit on deck, one writing and the other drawing.
+Sometimes the author's pen would suddenly cease work; cease for quite a
+while. Dick respected those pauses; imagined Charleigh to be thinking
+out the details of his work.
+
+He was wrong. Masters was thinking of Miss Mivvins. Remorseful thoughts;
+remorse that he had ever wounded that generous, sweet soul; ever added
+by his harsh words to her burden of sorrow. Vainly regretful thoughts:
+regret that he had not met her earlier in life. A sigh usually marked
+Masters' emergence from dreamland. If he did not directly pick up his
+work again, his companion would open up conversation; one day said:
+
+"I call you Prince, old fellow, because you told me to. Is it a nickname
+or your real name?"
+
+Masters smiled; the sweet innocence of his godmother occurred to him; he
+said:
+
+"Which do you think, now?"
+
+"Well, I can't help thinking that Prince Charleigh seems too happy a
+combination to be the real thing. Real godmothers and godfathers don't
+hit on those things usually."
+
+"Mine did not. Yet all the same I was christened, quite recently,
+Prince."
+
+"Ah!" Dick's eyes sparkled; he fancied himself a discoverer. "I'll bet
+you a new hat I can guess the sex of the christener--a girl?"
+
+"Splendid marksman! A bull's eye! Hit the centre of the target first
+time!"
+
+A merry twinkle found place in the younger man's eyes as he inquired:
+
+"Engaged to her, old fellow?"
+
+"Well----"
+
+Masters paused. Then, with a quiet smile and a long puff at his pipe,
+completed his sentence:
+
+"We have spoken of marriage."
+
+"Soon?"
+
+"M'no. She's very young."
+
+The quiet smile broadened on Masters' face; he remembered how very
+young!
+
+"I have been writing this morning to my girl," said Dick. "We shall
+touch port today for stores, and be able to post letters, the Captain
+says."
+
+"So I gathered."
+
+"Did your ears burn this morning, old chap? My letter was full of you."
+
+"Was it?"
+
+Masters started; was troubled. His pipe was being smoked more vigorously
+than ever; he continued:
+
+"I am sorry for that."
+
+"Why? I told my girl who was responsible for my salvation. You.... Ah,
+don't shake your head, Prince. My living, my being here on this deck
+alive, sane, and, thank God! with a feeling of manhood strong in me, is
+due to you. But for you, I should have gone overboard.... Yes, I know
+it; I want you to know that I know it. I can never repay you, that's out
+of the region of possibility, but you might like to feel that you took a
+fellow-creature out of the slough, even if the fellow isn't worth much.
+You saved my life and you've made it worth living--to me, at any rate."
+
+He spoke with a catch in his voice; gratitude moved him. So earnest was
+his speech of thankfulness that it moved Masters also; Dick went on:
+
+"I came aboard with the knowledge in my heart that I should make a hole
+in the water. I got my girl up to London, the only friend that has stuck
+to me, to say good-bye to her. And I meant it, Prince; meant it for a
+final good-bye, a good-bye for ever. Thanks to you, old chap, that's a
+thing of the past; the shadow has passed away."
+
+"I hope, Dick--nay, more than hope--I am confident, never to return."
+
+"I pray God so, Prince! I do! I do! I say that reverently. I pray God
+so. I'm a bit fearful of when this trip is over; just a bit; that's all
+that's wrong with me. You've been my anchor; I don't know how I shall
+ride on a tempting sea without you. You are not as other men--no, let me
+say it--I have clung to you, Prince, old fellow, like--well, like the
+ivy clings to the oak. I can't help thinking, when the oak's gone what's
+to become of the ivy."
+
+"You'll go back home well, and find other ties."
+
+Then he gave utterance to the phrase which had been persistently ringing
+in his ears so long:
+
+"You will go back well enough to marry."
+
+Dick started; smiled. The memory of that last interview came back to him
+too; he answered:
+
+"That's what my girl says, Prince. But I don't feel at all like
+marrying: I'm not that sort."
+
+"Not--that--sort!"
+
+It seemed to Masters as if all the blood in his body suddenly turning
+scalding hot and black-coloured; filled his veins to bursting point. He
+sat quite still, motionless; fearful that if he moved, loosened for one
+instant his hold on himself, his feelings would be too much for him.
+
+His trip, his care for Dick then, was so much labour thrown away.... He
+must keep that feeling, that desire to rush at the boy's throat and
+choke his worthless life out, keep it down. Nothing would be gained by
+loss of temper. It is the cool hammer which fashions the red-hot iron;
+he knew that, yet did not dare to look at his companion.
+
+His stylographic pen was not of the best make; perhaps resented being
+held down so. The ink ran from it and made a blot on the paper. Although
+conscious of its existence he allowed the size of the blot to increase;
+still he made no movement.... At last he spoke; spoke so huskily that
+Dick looked up from his sketch. The moment he did so, he cried:
+
+"Prince! Good God, old chap, what's the matter? Prince! Prince! You are
+ill!"
+
+"I am quite well. Sit down; I am all right I tell you. I want to talk to
+you."
+
+"Rot!"
+
+The boy scrambled to his feet impatiently, looking in amazement at the
+white, drawn expression on his companion's face; continued:
+
+"You're ill. Think I am blind? Come to the cabin and lie down."
+
+"Sit down."
+
+"Not for half a second!"
+
+As he answered he was cramming the drawing materials into his pocket;
+continued:
+
+"If you want to talk come into the cabin and lie down. I'll talk to you
+there till the doctor comes."
+
+"Doctor! Don't be absurd! I am all right. I want to talk to----"
+
+"Then come right along into the cabin out of this sun; talk there. It's
+my turn to give orders. I'm going."
+
+He moved away as he spoke, throwing a glance over his shoulders: an
+anxious look. He was fearing greatly for the man whom he had grown to
+love.
+
+Masters rose; staggered up really. That hot black blood seemed to rise
+with him, right up to his brain. Had the effect of making things go
+whirling round and round for a minute. Then with an immense effort he
+pulled himself together. Better perhaps in the cabin, out of earshot.
+
+He must have his talk out with Master Dick.
+
+
+
+
+                                  CHAPTER XXIV
+
+                                 RESTORED SIGHT
+
+
+Dick led the way; Masters followed; the cabin was reached. The moment
+they had entered, the author put his back against the door; spoke with a
+gravity which alarmed his companion:
+
+"You and I have got to have a talk. Plain talk."
+
+Dick's anxiety was evidenced in the tone of his voice as he said:
+
+"All right, old son. Cackle for hours if you like. But I wish to
+goodness you'd lie down and see the doctor first."
+
+Masters disregarded this; considered it a flippant, out-of-place remark;
+in inconceivably bad taste. Moreover, he was disgusted by Dick's
+evasion; by reason of it went himself the straighter to the point:
+
+"We left off on deck at where you were talking of your girl. You said
+you were--were not of the marrying kind!"
+
+"Eh? Yes, of course I said so. It is so. But what on earth does it
+matter what I said?"
+
+Dick still looked anxious. Was making all due allowance for the fact
+that literary fellows are inclined to be cranks. Yet was doubtful
+whether the man with his back to the door was not overstepping the
+limits of legitimate and traditional crankiness.
+
+"It matters a deal!"
+
+Masters uttered these words so fiercely that--in no way relieved--Dick
+said:
+
+"Does it? Well then, Prince, old fellow, if you're so anxious about my
+future as all that, I'll relieve your anxiety. I can truthfully tell you
+that I have never set eyes on a girl yet that I should be at all likely
+to marry. Wine's been my trouble, not women."
+
+Once more the black blood surged up; a curtain seemed to come up before
+Masters' eyes; a thick misty curtain blotting things out. But he knew he
+must keep his temper in hand; exhibit only calmness. He would gain more
+that way: for the child's sake--for her sake.
+
+"Dick." He spoke with all the earnestness in him. "Awhile back you spoke
+of being grateful to me. Said you would do anything to--to please me."
+
+"So I would, old fellow; so I would. On my soul I would! But I wish to
+goodness you would lie----"
+
+Dick's hand was placed soothingly on his companion's shoulder, as he
+spoke. Masters bore it, but interrupted expression of the wish that he
+would lie down; said:
+
+"Suppose I put you to the test? If I ask you to marry your girl, will
+you do it?"
+
+"No!"
+
+Dick answered with a laugh. Despite the anxiety of which he was so full,
+he could not resist a feeling of amusement at the request; added
+emphatically:
+
+"I most certainly will not."
+
+Up surged the blood again; anger came into the eyes which flashed so;
+almost blinded their owner. A step forward, and he seized Dick by the
+shoulders; held him so firmly, as in a vice.
+
+"Tell me." He was speaking from a throat the dryness of which made it
+hoarse. "After the way in which you have behaved to her--tell me why you
+refuse to marry her?"
+
+Dick looked at his companion doubtfully; had not a trace of anger in
+doing so. Felt that in dealing with him the truth was the only thing;
+said:
+
+"Refuse to marry her? Why, you confounded old idiot, you! How on earth
+can a fellow marry his own sister?"
+
+"SISTER!"
+
+Just the one word--he almost screamed it--that was all Masters could
+utter. He started away and released his hold. Fell back against the
+door, in the intensity of his astonishment, clutching wildly,
+unfeelingly, at the panels for support.
+
+Dick's anxiety rapidly gained strength; he became more alarmed than
+ever. Formed the idea now that this was no passing faintness, but that
+Masters was seriously ill. Was even afraid to leave him standing there
+against the door, for fear he should fall. Suddenly, flinging off his
+coat, he cried:
+
+"You're stronger than I am, and I guess I'll get the worst of it, but
+here goes."
+
+He stood threateningly in front of the much bigger man, the light of
+determination in his eyes; continued:
+
+"Will you lie down on that bunk and let me fetch you the doctor? Refuse,
+and as sure as I stand here I shall try my hardest to make you."
+
+Masters pressed his hands to his aching, throbbing forehead. His mind
+was whirling so, that it was no wonder he staggered. His brain did not
+seem able to hold the blend: could not contain so much happiness and so
+much condemnation of himself, for his unutterable foolishness. True to
+his threat, Dick advanced; Masters warded him off.
+
+"Don't, Dick! Just a moment, old fellow.... I don't want a doctor. What
+you have just said has done me more good than a syndicate of all the
+doctors in the world could effect."
+
+He laughed weakly, foolishly: by no means a confidence-inspiring laugh.
+The mirth, if such it could be called, and the change of tone were even
+more disturbing to the listener.
+
+"What have I said? Here, Prince, you are going off your nut, old man;
+that's what's the matter with you! I thought it when you began this
+game, but I didn't like to say so; I must now. Sitting in the sun so
+much has given you a mild attack of sunstroke. If you've any feeling
+that you would like to knock me about, now's your time to indulge it;
+for I am going to try to make you come away from that door."
+
+"Dick! My dear boy! I assure you I am all right! All I want is a
+talk----"
+
+"Talk! Great Scott! Have you done anything else? This has been like a
+tabbies' tea-fight! There's been enough chatter to keep a tree-full of
+monkeys going! Talk! Christopher Columbus! It's been a perfect Niagara
+of jaw!"
+
+"There, I'll lie in my bunk if it will please you, Dick."
+
+"It's that, or sudden death from a blow of this ought-to-be brawny arm!
+Money or your life was never uttered more seriously than I am talking.
+The doctor----"
+
+"Don't go for the doctor, Dick, please. I don't need him. I am all right
+now."
+
+"I've only your word for that; I may tell you that your face doesn't
+lend any confirmation! You look as if you'd lost your seven senses and
+couldn't say Bo! to a goose! Are you better?... Really? Honour bright?"
+
+"Yes, yes, yes. Tell me, Dick, if she is your sister, who is Gracie?"
+
+It looked like a turning of the tables! Was Dick's turn to start and
+exhibit surprise. His was the wide-open-eyed-and-mouthed type of
+astonishment; showed plainly in his face; deception was a thing unknown
+to him. A moment's wondering silence; then he inquired:
+
+"Who's Gracie? How the dickens did you know there was any Gracie? Why,
+she's her kid, of course; my little niece!"
+
+At that the man in the bunk laughed. Almost his old hearty ringing laugh
+again. But even yet it retained a tone of wildness; he cried:
+
+"Blind! Blind! Blind! What a crass idiot; what a senseless fool I have
+been!"
+
+Dick scratched his head; these sudden changes of mood were too much for
+him; said:
+
+"Well, you certainly _are_ behaving in first-prize-gold-medal idiotic
+fashion! But the puzzle to me is, how the deuce did you know anything
+about little Gracie?"
+
+"Know about her? I actually know her! Good heavens! How clear it all
+seems now."
+
+"Does it? That's all right! I may be permitted to remark that our ideas
+on opaqueness would be likely to differ!"
+
+"It was she--oh, Dick, Dick, Dick! Don't you understand?"
+
+"How can I help doing so--when you are so lucid! You brainless old
+firework, you; let off some more crackers."
+
+"Dick! Dick! It was she, she who christened me Prince!"
+
+"What! Why, you said it was the girl to whom you had spoken about
+marriage!"
+
+"Quite right."
+
+The idea returned to Dick that there must be something wrong, very
+wrong--as he put it--in Masters' upper storey. Marriage! With Gracie! It
+was simply too absurd for words; he said:
+
+"You jibbering old idiot, you, what do you mean? Gracie isn't five years
+old!"
+
+"I know! I know! I know! And yet a month ago at Wivernsea I promised
+her, if when she grew up she wanted to marry me--which she won't--that I
+would."
+
+"Wivernsea! Why, you know my sister!"
+
+Masters started up. Gripped the boy by both shoulders and shook him.
+Happiness struggled with the tears in his eyes as he said:
+
+"Dick, just a wee while ago--forgive me for it, laddie--I hated you! Now
+I love you! I love you! I love you! You've told me just the best news
+I've heard for years."
+
+"That's all right, old man."
+
+He shook himself free, and ruefully rubbing his shoulders, continued:
+
+"What that news may be I don't know; it's beyond my intellect's horizon.
+However, as it pleases you it's sufficient--so long as it doesn't hurt
+me. Don't make me black and blue in the exuberance of your affection. As
+the poet hath it: It's all very well to dissemble your love, but why do
+you kick me downstairs?"
+
+"I'm sorry, Dick--really sorry. Did I hurt you? I'm so full of happiness
+that I could kick myself for having been such a fool all this horrible
+long time."
+
+"You speak in the past tense. Seems to me the foolishness is only just
+coming to a head!"
+
+"Stop your chaff, there's a good fellow. You can use that later on. Just
+now it's almost life and death with me. What's your sister's full name,
+Dick?"
+
+"Full name? Mabel Seton-Carr, of course!"
+
+"Of course! Of course! Of course! Didn't Gracie write it in full in my
+book?"
+
+"I'll be hanged if I know! I shouldn't think it would add to the book's
+sale if she did--with my remembrance of her pothooks and hangers. You
+don't live at Wivernsea, do you? I never heard that there was a lunatic
+asylum there!"
+
+"Lived there for years!"
+
+"Oh! Then perhaps you knew Mabel's husband, Seton-Carr, when he was
+alive?"
+
+"When--he--was--alive?"
+
+"Yes. Of course! You blithering old idiot, you; what are you looking at
+me like that for? You don't think that I am such an utter egregious ass
+as to suggest that you have known him since his death, do you?"
+
+"How long, Dick--how long--how long has he been dead?"
+
+"Nine--ten months now. Between ourselves, there was not much to regret
+when he added his signature to the big death-roll. Though it's not
+customary to speak truth of a man who can't speak for himself, is it?"
+
+"Blind! Blind! Blind! She's a widow! Of course! What a fool--what a fool
+I have been!"
+
+"Hear, hear--large-sized kind!"
+
+
+
+
+                                  CHAPTER XXV
+
+                             EJECTED FROM THE CABIN
+
+
+Masters remained buried in thought for a few moments. The sudden opening
+of his eyes and the refreshing news were almost overpowering him.
+
+Presently he looked up at his companion, who was watching him closely;
+said:
+
+"You can't think, Dick, my dear boy, what a big fool I have been making
+of myself."
+
+"No--I can't. If it was any foolishness bigger than your present size,
+it must have been simply colossal!"
+
+"You told your sister of me in your letter. Did you mention me as Prince
+Charlie?"
+
+"Of course!"
+
+"She'll know! She'll guess! I am glad. Thanks! Thanks! Thanks!"
+
+He seized and wrung the hand of the amazed Dick, utterly ignoring his
+feelings. Only felt that he must do something to relieve his own. He
+retained just sufficient self-control to keep himself from indulging in
+a wild dance of jubilation.
+
+Dick, affecting to nurse crushed fingers, made an effort to get to the
+bottom of things. Usually he accepted circumstances without inquiry as
+to their source; but suspicion was roused in him now. It was suspicion
+of a kind that he wanted to make into certainty; he said:
+
+"A few minutes ago you expressed regret that I had mentioned you at all
+in the letter."
+
+"I know! But a few minutes ago things were all gloomy and black and
+ugly! Now they are all bright, rose-coloured and lovely. The sun has
+risen! The pulse of day is beginning to beat!"
+
+"I say, old chap--how much a thousand words do you get for that kind of
+thing? You roll it off as naturally as water rolls off a duck's back."
+
+"When do we reach London, Dick?"
+
+"Reach London? Are you mad? Why, we haven't turned round on our homeward
+journey yet!"
+
+"There's some sort of overland route, isn't there? We can get back
+quicker?"
+
+"Quicker? You are mad! It was only this very morning that you were
+expressing regret that the time of the trip wasn't going to be double
+the length!"
+
+"This morning was then! Now is now! Oh, Dick, you stony-hearted, wicked
+villain you!" He sprang laughingly over to the boy as he spoke. "Why
+didn't you say before----"
+
+"Keep off!"
+
+Dick, dodging, picked up the first thing his hands rested on and assumed
+a burlesque attitude of threat as he continued:
+
+"Assault me again with one of your hundred-ton affectionate squeezes,
+and I'll blow your brains out with this telescope. Throw up your hands!"
+
+"I surrender!"
+
+Masters laughingly fell in with the other's burlesque melodramatic
+humour; continued:
+
+"I am a bear, but a tamed one. I haven't a squeeze left in me!"
+
+"Perhaps your Royal Highness is saving them up," suggested Dick, his
+eyes twinkling as he spoke. "I begin to have a grave suspicion--garnered
+from some of your rambling ravings--that you have designs on my sister!"
+
+"I have, Dick, I have!"
+
+"Open confession is good for the soul! But you don't fool me. I should
+be false to every sense of brotherly duty if I failed to warn her
+against your embraces. I shall bear the marks of one of them--on my
+shoulder--to the grave."
+
+"Dear old Dick!" Masters started forward impulsively: "I am ever so
+sorry that----"
+
+"Keep off! Keep off! If you don't I'll scream for help!"
+
+Masters' thoughts went off at a tangent. Love is a leveller. Even
+authors, under the influence of that other circumstance to which all
+flesh is heir, are not superior to a passion for the conjunction of
+octavo sheets and pens. It found expression in Masters' exclamation:
+
+"The letters!"
+
+Dick, inexperienced in such matters, failed to understand. His denseness
+was irritating. He was aware of that, but only with intent to provoke,
+ejaculated:
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"The letters! Don't you understand? We haven't touched port yet--not
+near it."
+
+"Four hours off yet."
+
+"Then I shall have time to write to your sister myself."
+
+"What--in four hours? Bold adventurer! If at first you don't succeed,
+try, try, try, again. Your bravery unmans me! Excuse these tears!"
+
+"Clear out of this cabin, Dick, and leave me to myself. I want to
+write."
+
+"What! For four hours? I'll be hanged if you do! Four hours of letter
+from a man in your condition would prove deadly to the woman receiving
+it. I won't be party to such inhumanity."
+
+"Will you go out?"
+
+"No, I won't! I paid the ship people for half this cabin, and I'm going
+to assert my rights.... Keep off, Prince Charlie. If you put a finger on
+me I'll have you tried by court-martial, and sentenced to walk the
+plank!"
+
+"Will you leave peaceably then?"
+
+"No, I won't; keep off!"
+
+Dick was thoroughly enjoying the situation now; his face was one huge
+beaming grin as he continued:
+
+"Besides, I am going to write a letter myself. To my sister, warning her
+against the introduction of a lunatic into the family. She has been good
+to me, and I shall take this opportunity of making some return for it."
+
+"You wrote your letter to her this morning on deck with the stub of a
+pencil. Go and write the other the same way."
+
+"Shan't! Can't: want ink. Couldn't describe your vile character in
+pencil; such labour necessitates ink: black ink."
+
+"Out you go!"
+
+"Keep off!... If you evict me from my cabin--I believe you are a woild
+Oirish landlord in disguise, you spalpeen--I'll sue you for damages, and
+have you hanged at the yard arm."
+
+"Out you go!"
+
+That time the boy's dodging ended in failure; his laughter rather
+handicapped him. The other, laughing triumphantly, caught, struggled
+with and pushed him out of the cabin. Clapping the door to, bolted it.
+
+Then Masters sought again his berth, intending to indulge in a little
+castle-building: aerial kind. Dick's tattooing on the door-panels with
+his fists eliciting no reply, he bent and shouted through the keyhole:
+
+"You bushranging brigand! You buccaneering bandit! You blood-thirsty old
+skull-and-cross-bones, you! I've just remembered that this is piracy!
+Piracy on the high seas! I'm going straight to the Captain to get the
+handcuffs polished up. I'll make it my business to see you go back to
+England in irons. Put that in your pipe and smoke it."
+
+With that he retired--to the accompaniment of a shrilly whistled Rule
+Britannia and a tramp as of soldiers. Masters was left the opportunity
+of writing his love-letter.
+
+He came out of the land of dreams. Sat down at the table, and drew paper
+and pen towards him, implements of his trade. Spent time in looking at
+the paper, pen in hand, but no words were formed.
+
+It seemed strange that a man who for many years had gained a living by
+dexterous juggling with words should be unable to shape them now. But
+they would not come, to his satisfaction.
+
+"What can I say on paper," he thought, "which will exhibit my awakened
+conscience? Will be sufficiently contrite and penitent to appeal to her?
+Nothing! Half the meaning of a letter lies in the reading of it. She
+would be justified, fully justified, from her present point of view, if
+she were to throw it into the fire without reading it at all."
+
+A look of gloom settled on his countenance; he asked himself:
+
+"What right have I to write to her at all?--after the way in which I
+insulted her? To apologise on paper is the act of a coward. I must go to
+her, and hear her contempt of me. I deserve it."
+
+He did not write his letter after all.
+
+
+
+
+                                  CHAPTER XXVI
+
+                              AS SOBER AS A JUDGE
+
+
+That determination of his, to wait, was a hard thing for Masters to
+adhere to. He knew it was a wholesome resolve; at the same time the pill
+was very bitter: uncoated kind.
+
+It is so much easier to do things on the spur of the moment; courage is
+an unbidden lieutenant then. Later on the aid must consciously be
+gathered together.
+
+Curiously enough, Masters experienced pleasure in making the way hard
+for himself; there was no attempt to boil the peas before putting them
+in his shoe. It seemed more just to her whom he had wronged, this
+penance: a flagellation of his soul, as it were.
+
+"She must witness my utter, abject humility," he reflected. "Must hear
+my prayer for forgiveness of my doubt of her. My sorrow must be seen; I
+can't paint it in pen and ink. Whatever I wrote--oh, the voice is
+mightier than the pen!--she might refuse to forgive me. Besides, if she
+is forewarned, knows I intend seeking her, she may even refuse to see
+me. I won't give her the chance; I won't write at all."
+
+That was his decision; the result of half-an-hour's close thought and
+the consumption of three pipes of tobacco. Then he sought his companion
+on deck. Braced himself up for the interview, rightly guessing the
+manner in which he would be assailed.
+
+"Hullo!" Dick grinned. "What have you come up on deck for--inspiration?
+Think to infuse a sea-kissed salty air in your correspondence? I
+wouldn't lose any of that four hours if I were you. How many quires of
+my superfine cream-laid vellum note paper have you consumed so far? I
+know you haven't got any of your own."
+
+"Not a sheet."
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"I have changed my mind."
+
+"I deny the possibility of that! You haven't a mind to change!"
+
+"I am not going to write a letter at all."
+
+"What! After all this fuss too! Well, I am--there! After those
+absolutely brutal and unprovoked assaults on me too! Truly has the
+mountain laboured!"
+
+"What I have to say shall be uttered orally."
+
+"I doubt that! If my sister takes the advice I have given her in this
+letter, you'll never have a chance of getting within earshot. I have
+told her that you are the most violent, headstrong, ferocious, wrathful
+savage I ever met; that you are coming home. I have advised her to flee
+from the wrath to come."
+
+"You are incorrigible, Dick."
+
+"I like that! For pure and adulterated cheek, that annexes Huntley &
+Palmers' entire factory! I am viciously assaulted by a rabid lunatic. I
+am deprived of the use of ink and paper purchased with my own hard coin.
+I am thrown out of my cabin. And the man guilty of these foul crimes
+coolly stands in front of me with a pipe and a jeering remark in his
+mouth. Incorrigible!"
+
+"My dear old Dick----"
+
+Masters commenced a speech so; putting his hand on the boy's shoulder
+affectionately. He was interrupted by the cry of:
+
+"Hands off!"
+
+Dick assumed an appearance of abject fear, shivering like a calves-foot
+jelly. It was belied by the grin he could not keep off his face as he
+continued:
+
+"No more of your affection! I want to walk ashore. I don't want to be
+carried on a stretcher, maimed for life."
+
+Masters was in earnest: deadly earnest. He wished he could get his
+companion to veer round from his frivolous mood. There was a slight
+frown on his face, as he said:
+
+"Will you be serious, Dick?"
+
+The boy was not insensible to the intonation of the words. Looked up,
+saying:
+
+"Well, what is it?"
+
+"I want to talk to you about your sister."
+
+The opportunity was too good to be missed; appealed irresistibly to the
+humorous side of the listener; frivolity gained the day. Dick's nature
+was such that happiness ever wanted to bubble up, and it was so long
+since he had felt inclined to give it a show. He emitted a groan; leaned
+back in the deck chair and thrust his hands into his pockets.
+
+"I thought that," he said. "I guessed it! Existence aboard this lugger's
+going to be made a curse to me! I am going to have her drummed into my
+ears all the rest of the voyage."
+
+"Dick!"
+
+"Understand, Prince Charleigh, that I know her. Have known her for
+nearly one-and-twenty years. By your own showing, you have known her
+little more than a month. ... Very well, two months then. It's out of
+your power to present her in any light in which I haven't seen her. I
+know the colour of her eyes, hair and teeth; the tilt of her nose and
+the length of it; how she looks when she's doing this, and how she looks
+when she's doing that. You understand? I'm not going to be bored all day
+long with your two-months old description of her."
+
+"My dear Dick!"
+
+Masters could not help laughing. Concluded that it would be best to let
+the boy run on. Necessarily he must reach the end of his tether, and his
+own turn would come then, when, in the natural course of things, the
+other's exuberance had subsided.
+
+"You may laugh! You're infected. The disease is coursing through your
+veins. But you're not going to make a victim of me. When you feel it
+coming on, you just go to the bows--there's never any one there--and
+rhapsodize to the ship's figurehead. Spare me."
+
+"Dick!"
+
+Masters spoke quite patiently, smiling the while. He was giving the
+other his head; it was his best, his only, plan.
+
+"Grin on, you old lunatic! But I warn you, if you seek to make my life a
+misery by pouring lover-like descriptions of my sister into my unwilling
+ear, I'll abandon myself to the mercy of the ocean, and sneak off alone
+in the Captain's gig."
+
+"Well, I do want to talk to you about your sister."
+
+Dick groaned again. He was in great good humour; his feet were beating a
+lively tattoo; Masters continued:
+
+"But I don't propose now, or hereafter, to say one word about her
+appearance, manner or ways."
+
+"Thanks, thanks, kind sir. For this relief much thanks. Excuse this
+emotion; they are tears of relief."
+
+There was a limit; Masters was reaching it. Was forced into saying, half
+seriously, half jokingly:
+
+"You are the most unsympathetic, hard-hearted brute that ever existed."
+
+Dick grinned. It was exactly what he wanted to hear; took the utterance
+as the greatest possible compliment. He was succeeding admirably;
+restraining his delight, he said:
+
+"Your flattery is too subtle. You wrap it up too much: like an American
+caramel. Please remember that my perception is not as delicate as
+yours."
+
+"There is one thing I wanted to ask you, but whilst you are in this
+mood, I won't."
+
+He turned to walk away. Dick realized the possibility of carrying a joke
+too far; in a minute was all repentance. He would not have wounded his
+friend's feelings for worlds; called out:
+
+"Come back.... Orate. I'll be as sober as a judge."
+
+He fully meant that.
+
+
+
+
+                                 CHAPTER XXVII
+
+                            THE FINANCIAL LOADSTONE
+
+
+Masters walked back to where Dick was sitting; stood facing the boy
+again. It was plain that he was really worried; evidently had something
+on his mind. Dick paid as much quiet attention as it was possible for
+him to bestow as the author spoke:
+
+"You will oblige me very much by listening. This business reminds me of
+the boys and the frog, and I am not finding the rôle of frog a pleasant
+one to fill. If you will drop stone throwing and let me croak, I shall
+take it as a particular favour."
+
+"Croak on."
+
+"When I told you that I had lived at Wivernsea for years, I should have
+said only a month in each year. I go down there each October."
+
+"This is of absorbing interest!"
+
+Dick's intentions were good, but his high spirits got the better of him.
+The look on his companion's face induced him to settle for another
+effort of solemnity.
+
+"It was necessary for me to tell you that; by way of explanation of how
+little I know of Ivy Cottage!"
+
+"Croak on."
+
+Masters was leaning against the handrail, his fingers handling the ropes
+which supported the lifeboat. He put both arms through and, resting so,
+spoke on:
+
+"People in Wivernsea--who don't know your sister--don't speak well of
+the place, Dick."
+
+"What do you mean--haunted?"
+
+"No. Worse than that."
+
+The gravity in the speaker's manner was not without its effect on the
+boy. A spasm of pain shot across his face; he sat up soberly enough now.
+The feet ceased their drumming; the hands came out of his pockets; the
+air of nonchalance fell from him like a mask.
+
+"Worse? What?"
+
+"That is what I am anxious to have explained. In a sense, it is no
+business of mine, but I want it cleared up for your sister's sake; and I
+think you ought to know."
+
+"What?"
+
+"This tittle-tattle I am referring to. It goes to the length of saying
+that people living at Ivy Cottage go under false names. That not long
+since, the sheriff was in possession under a warrant of execution and
+the furniture was seized. Of course, I know they are all lies----"
+
+"You're wrong, Prince. There is a basis of truth in it."
+
+Masters started in surprise. Dick's head was bent, to hide the flush of
+shame on his face. He spoke in a troubled voice; then suddenly lifted
+his head; meant to speak honestly, said:
+
+"I am the foundation of that; the miserable cause of that rumour."
+
+"You!"
+
+"Yes. You can't help despising my meanness when I have told you, even if
+you don't already. It is due to you that I should explain how it came
+about. I have had drinking bouts similar to the last one you helped me
+out of----"
+
+"_The_ last one."
+
+"Please God--yes; the last one. At the commencement of one of them,
+about six months ago, I fell an easy victim to some card-sharpers; I was
+a stranger within their gates and they took me in--literally. I had no
+more idea what I was playing than I had of the character of the players.
+A thousand pounds was the amount they said I had lost, and I was too far
+gone to deny it. Of course I had not that money on me. I was made to
+sign a cheque they drew on my bankers on a half-sheet of note paper with
+a penny stamp stuck on it."
+
+"I see."
+
+"I was reaching the shaky stage then, Prince, when the hands need a
+ton-weight pressure to prevent their acting like aspen leaves. The bank
+refused payment on the ground of 'difference of signature.' The
+card-sharping people consulted the six-and-eightpenny fraternity and
+issued a writ for that thousand pounds. Served it on me whilst I was
+lying in bed in a state of mental insensibility."
+
+"Is it possible? I wonder the process-server was allowed to enter your
+room."
+
+"He was the kind that could not be kept out. They had a wily little
+lawyer acting for them--I found this all out afterwards, of course. He
+found out the name of the medical man attending me and presented himself
+as the doctor's assistant; so served me."
+
+"What a beastly trick!"
+
+"Success attended its performance, though. The game was in their own
+hands, and they were playing it by the end-justifying-the-means rule.
+Eight days after service judgment was signed and an execution was put in
+at my sister's house at Wivernsea."
+
+"Why on earth there?"
+
+"Part of the game they were playing. They had made inquiries, and found
+that I was living in London at the time in a furnished flat. I suppose
+they relied on my sister paying the execution out."
+
+"Which she did?"
+
+"She flew up to London, and consulted our family lawyer. He looked into
+the thing at the Law Courts; read the affidavit of service and things of
+that sort; saw that the whole matter was in order. They came on to see
+me, but I was in the snakes-on-the-wall stage at the time; didn't know
+them from Adam and Eve. The family lawyer--one of the best, but rather
+inclined to look on the breath of scandal as a fatal thing--advised a
+settlement. Said that, even if she turned the execution out, they might
+proceed against me in bankruptcy. Pointed out that expenses were piling
+up, and--well, Sis paid the sheriff."
+
+"How ghastly!"
+
+"I used a stronger word. My adjectives were like fireworks, then I came
+round and learnt what had been done: but it was too late. All I could do
+was to give Sis a cheque for what was paid, and ask her to forgive me;
+which, dearest of dear souls, she has done a dozen times in my miserable
+life."
+
+Dick looked the picture of dejection by the time he had finished.
+Masters was not, however, observing him: was following out his own train
+of thought.
+
+"Of course. That explains. News of a thing like that, and in another
+name too, would speedily spread over a small place like Wivernsea."
+
+"As easily as jam is spread on a piece of bread. I never thought of
+that, though. What a beast--what a perfect beast I have been!"
+
+Dick was of an excitable temperament: the alcohol in his
+thermometer--his spirits--was ever at the fever-heat of exuberance or
+deep down at the zero of dejection. But little was needed to carry him
+to either extreme: therein lay his danger. Masters knew it; yet he said:
+
+"If I had only known all this a few weeks ago, I should not be on this
+boat now."
+
+"I am glad you lacked the knowledge, then, Prince. For if you hadn't
+come aboard when you did, I shouldn't be here either."
+
+Masters regretted his reproachful speech the moment it was uttered.
+Instantly changed its tone; put up a warning finger as he cried
+threateningly:
+
+"Dick!"
+
+"I know it, dear old chap; I know what my intent was. But don't let's
+talk about it now."
+
+"Or ever again."
+
+The cloud cleared from the lad's face; he responded heartily:
+
+"Right!"
+
+At the moment the gong sounded in the engine-room. An air of bustle
+pervaded the ship. They looked to discover the cause.
+
+"Hullo! Why, look here! Here we are at Madeira."
+
+They were. So absorbed had they been in conversation as not to notice
+how near they were to land. The usual excitement of a stoppage now
+occupied their attention.
+
+The vessel was to stay at Madeira for a time. Stores had to be taken in
+and the passengers allowed a chance of seeing the place before the
+vessel was turned for her homeward voyage.
+
+Masters and Dick spent their whole time on shore; always in each other's
+company. The author explained that he liked sympathy in his admiration
+for the lions of the port. The one made many sketches and the other many
+mental notes.
+
+They were quite good friends again.
+
+
+
+
+                                 CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+                                 HOMEWARD BOUND
+
+
+Two days after; _La Mascotte_ steamed away from Madeira. The list of the
+ship's passengers had been added to. Two new persons were aboard,
+returning to England.
+
+Masters and Dick were seated on deck in their usual places. The one
+writing, the other sketching; suddenly a voice behind them said:
+
+"If it were needed, here is more evidence of the smallness of the
+world."
+
+The voice had that settled Society drawl about it. Particularly
+unwelcome hearing away from its proper setting: the surroundings in
+which it is usually to be heard. In its own sphere it is bad enough; is
+positively jarring in the unconventional atmosphere of aboard-ship life.
+
+At any rate, Dick found it so, if judgment might be framed from his
+expression. He looked the reverse of pleased, but subdued the feeling as
+he turned round and spoke:
+
+"Hullo! I didn't see you come aboard. How do you do, old fellow? How do
+you do, Miss Chantrelle?... Let me introduce Mr. Masters to you." He
+knew his friend's real name now, and was rather proud of it. "Mr.
+William Masters.... Yes, the novelist--Miss Chantrelle... Her brother,
+Percy Chantrelle."
+
+They formed, more or less, a quartette on the voyage home. Dick saw he
+was in for it and could not help himself--easy-going Dick! Occasionally
+they paired off: Miss Chantrelle and Dick and the two men.
+
+Masters prided himself on possession of an ability to read faces; he had
+no liking for the two new ones which had come aboard at Madeira. Miss
+Chantrelle's more especially repelled him. Not because he preferred her
+brother; rather that he set up a higher standard as necessary for women
+than men.
+
+Human nature was a power Masters ever recognized. He could forgive a man
+being hard, calculating and selfish, but not a woman; in Miss
+Chantrelle's face he read all those attributes. Still, they were Dick's
+friends, more or less; so, in a measure, they became his.
+
+Amy Chantrelle was equally quick in facial perusal; speedily read
+distrust in Masters'. She had not lived in the world without acquiring
+its knowledge; was wise enough to appreciate the power in others she
+possessed herself. She was a distinctly clever, shrewd, woman of the
+world.
+
+Nothing would have arisen from all this, but for the rattling of Master
+Dick's tongue. He told of Prince Charlie's matrimonial intent: the
+possibility of friend merging into brother-in-law. At heart he was so
+proud of this possibility that he would have liked to proclaim it from
+the house-tops--masthead would perhaps have been a more suitable word.
+
+Miss Chantrelle listened with interest; scarcely sympathetic interest,
+but the distinction was not obvious. It was unobserved by Dick, and he
+felt himself encouraged to expound the subject he had so much at heart.
+Was led on to so doing by skilfully-put questions such as only a woman
+would know how to frame.
+
+Amy Chantrelle was greatly displeased; all her sympathy was assumed. The
+Chantrelles were poor. Both brother and sister were well-favoured; each
+looked to marriage as a little boat in which the storm of life might be
+weathered.
+
+They inclined to the belief that Percy was a favourite with Mrs.
+Seton-Carr. Now that she was a widow there was hope, a very strong hope
+too, in their hearts that she might be induced to change her name to
+that of Chantrelle.
+
+As a matter of fact, they were coming to England for the very purpose of
+trying to induce her to do so; the Seton-Carr bank balance serving as
+the lodestone.
+
+They had imagined her left fairly well-to-do, but when they saw in the
+newspapers the amount her husband's estate was sworn under, their
+breaths were taken away! They promptly packed and set out for England,
+home and beauty--not forgetting the aforesaid credit balance.
+
+They were greatly disturbed by what they heard on the boat: when Dick
+told of the position Masters was hoping to fill. The disturbance rapidly
+shaped into indignation: they looked on it as an endeavour to take the
+bread from out their mouths. The pleasant voyage they had looked forward
+to was not without its unpleasant moments.
+
+"Never mind, Percy." The sister speaking to her brother one day. "Given
+a clear field, you will go in and win yet."
+
+"The clearness of the field is----"
+
+"Leave that to me; I'll make it my business to see that you have a clear
+field."
+
+The brother shook his head as he responded gloomily:
+
+"Easier said than done, I fancy, Sis. I'm not overbrimming with hope."
+
+"There is no need for despondency. We will arrange to go to Wivernsea
+right off. That young fool Dick is finger-twistable: I can make him do
+anything."
+
+The brother needed more than mere words to convince him; observed
+sneeringly:
+
+"Except propose marriage to you!"
+
+An ugly light came into her eyes. His shaft had gone in up to the
+feather; she spoke bitterly:
+
+"Yes. He is not of the impressionable kind. I don't suppose any woman
+will ever get him."
+
+"Odds on that, Amy, if you fail to bring him up to the scratch."
+
+"But I can make him arrange for us to visit there. His sister thinks
+everything of him.... Masters won't go there."
+
+"Don't be so sure of that."
+
+"I am. He is one of those thin-skinned, sensitive sort of beasts. There
+has been some misunderstanding--probably of his own creation--which he
+counts on being able to wipe away. But he has never stayed there; we
+have. He goes year after year to rooms in the place; he'll put up at the
+same rooms again."
+
+"Think so?"
+
+"Am certain of it. I can read the man as easily--well, as easily as his
+books are read."
+
+"Yes, he's read. A popular writer like that must be earning pots of
+money in royalties. Might be worth setting your cap at, Amy."
+
+He looked at his sister critically. She was a handsome girl. The face a
+trifle hard, perhaps, but not every man goes in for melting beauty; some
+look for character--so thought her brother.
+
+Bitter laughter shaped on her lips at her brother's suggestion; a woman
+ever takes defeat badly; she replied:
+
+"I am not his sort; I am not the kind of woman he writes about! He can
+dissect me, probably has done so, as easily as you can carve a pigeon.
+Besides, he's dead gone on Mabel."
+
+"Curse him!"
+
+"By all means. But whatever you do, don't fear him. Outwardly he is as
+cold as ice; inside there is a raging volcano. Women don't hanker after
+that kind of love, if there's anything more outwardly tempestuous: like
+yourself. They are apt to judge of the surface."
+
+"Thanks!"
+
+"Oh! It's true; we don't want to mince words. That's where the average
+woman makes a fool of herself; where your chance comes in. Masters is
+worth fifty of you, but there are no scales to balance or register
+values of that kind."
+
+"Thanks again!"
+
+"Oh, we know it, you and I. We can speak to each other without putting
+foot on the soft pedal. He has a nature which would make him stick to a
+woman till, literally, death did them part. Yours is of the type which
+would prompt thoughts of a separation the moment the woman's bank
+balance ran out."
+
+"And you?"
+
+He could not resist the sneer; she had fingered a sore place. But he did
+not hurt her this time; she owned up at once:
+
+"Cast in the same mould! I did not mean blame to you. My own glass-house
+prevents stone-throwing. I was merely stating facts; I would not have
+them otherwise. Men like Masters are profitless in this world. When
+virtue is its own reward, the reward is usually too small to be seen
+with the naked eye. I have a distinct preference for qualifications
+which are otherwise."
+
+Percy smiled. Was full of admiration points for his sister. She was the
+stronger of the two: he ever recognized that; she continued bitterly:
+
+"Virtue is all very well for woman: it may serve her purpose. For a man
+it is a useless luxury."
+
+His own non-possession of it made him smile again; she went on:
+
+"As you don't seem inclined to take the initiative I shall do so myself.
+Before we reach Wivernsea, Mabel will have received a letter from me. I
+am going to write it ready to post at the first port we touch. It will
+go by the overland route."
+
+It did.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXIX
+
+                    ACHING HEARTS AND LAUGHING FACES
+
+
+The composition of the letter to Wivernsea needed all the powers Miss
+Chantrelle could bring to bear upon it. They were in no way of a mean
+order.
+
+She did not, however, grudge time or labour; the expenditure was in a
+good cause: Percy had been on the matrimonial stocks too long; his was
+the kind of beauty which age withered rather than ripened.
+
+A little sigh of content escaped her when, at last, she had finished
+writing. Leaning back in her chair, the end of the penholder between her
+lips, she read:
+
+    MY DEAREST MAB,--_Isn't_ it a tiny little world? Just fancy--my
+    brother and I are coming back to England on the same boat your
+    brother is travelling by! Dear old Dick! He looks so strong and
+    well; better I think than I have _ever_ seen him look. With him
+    is Mr. Masters--oh, of course, I ought to congratulate you,
+    oughtn't I?--but I will leave that till I see you. It is a good
+    job you are not of a jealous disposition, Mab, or I am afraid
+    there would be a rough time ahead for you: Mr. Masters is such a
+    _dreadful_ flirt! He has been most popular with all the ladies
+    on board, and made _violent_ love to me within twenty-four hours
+    of meeting me! He did not succeed in _my_ case, though (not
+    because of you, my darling Mab, because I had not heard of your
+    engagement to him then) but I do not like a man who makes love
+    to every woman he meets; whom you run across in odd parts of the
+    boat engrossed in conversation with some pretty girl, generally
+    _a different one each time_. But there, I must not say anything
+    against him, or you will never forgive me. Besides, if you don't
+    mind it, what does it matter? Of course, there's no real harm in
+    what he does--don't think I want to insinuate that, it is the
+    last thing I mean--as the girls must know he is only flirting;
+    perhaps his heart is with you all the time. How beautiful it
+    must be to have such faith as yours--I am afraid I'm not gifted
+    that way. You must be _very_ fond of him if all he says is true:
+    that you dote on the ground he walks on, etc., etc., etc. Asked
+    if the marriage day had been fixed, he replied that that only
+    rested with himself! Fancy that; _Aren't_ the men growing
+    dreadfully cheeky? Your brother has asked us to come down to
+    Wivernsea for Christmas. I _never_ saw a man grow so awfully
+    white as Percy did when he heard of your forthcoming marriage to
+    Mr. Masters. Till then I had had no idea that he--but there,
+    that would be telling tales out of school. We are coming to
+    spend Christmas, _unless_, dear Mabel, you would rather we did
+    not. If for that or _any reason_ you would rather we did not
+    come just now, _wire_ to us, care of Charing Cross cloak room,
+    when you get this. _We shall quite understand_ that it is not
+    convenient just now. You know what a dear, impulsive boy Dick
+    is; he _absolutely insists_ on our coming; says you will be
+    _really_ pleased to see us. I do hope so, darling. I have a
+    recollection of many, _many_ happy days spent with you.
+
+                             With _all_ my love,
+                                Believe me, _dearest_ Mabel,
+                                        Your _ever true_ friend,
+                                                        AMY.
+
+As she folded the letter and directed its envelope she muttered:
+
+"I think this puts a spoke in Prince Charlie's wheel! If I know anything
+of Mabel's pride, this won't ensure open arms and the warmest of
+welcomes for him."
+
+She hesitated a moment, then laughed; continued:
+
+"There is no scrap of fear of my letter ever being produced. Her pride
+would not allow her to do that, and she overruns with it."
+
+Amy Chantrelle was a clever woman; that fact has been recorded. In
+addition to knowing what to say and how to say it, she correctly foresaw
+just the effect it would produce. Her study of womankind was a very
+close one.
+
+The letter sent to Wivernsea carried all its intended evil. The descent
+of a bombshell could not have had a more disturbing effect. After
+perusal of it, Mrs. Seton-Carr was simply furious. Amy had not relied on
+the widow's pride in vain. Moreover, her belief in the proverb was
+justified: throw enough mud, some of it sticks.
+
+The letter was read over and over again. Each time an effort was made to
+disbelieve its contents, each time the bad impression became deeper:
+that there is no smoke without fire.
+
+Laughter would have resulted at the impertinence of Masters' conduct, as
+detailed in the letter, if she had not cared for the man. That was the
+weak point.
+
+Not a day passed without her thoughts being full of him. The letter came
+as a blow; a blow of the severely hurting sort. Wounded pride is hard of
+healing: there is generally some poison in the wound; it is apt to
+spread too, and endanger the hurt.
+
+By the same mail which brought the Chantrelle episode she received a
+letter from her brother Dick. It told her that he was coming down to
+Wivernsea to spend his Christmas; that Prince Charlie was coming too.
+
+Apart from the pleasure of receiving a letter from him written with an
+unshaking hand and the natural joy she felt at his buoyant style of
+writing, what he said was a big annoyance to her.
+
+His letter exuded praise of Masters in every sentence. It was easy to
+read between the lines that he looked upon himself as that gentleman's
+future brother-in-law. This to Mrs. Seton-Carr could only fit as a
+confirmation of her friend Amy's letter.
+
+Pride and a readily aroused temper usually battle together with
+conspicuous success. Mabel worked herself up to such a pitch of
+excitement that she positively cried. To think that this man--she knew
+in her heart of hearts that she loved him--should have the effrontery to
+talk of her so!
+
+Was it to be nothing but insult from him? Could she not--was it not
+possible to--pay him back somehow? What had she done that he should
+single her out for annoyance? Whatever it might be, when was she to feel
+herself free from his cowardly attacks?
+
+If only he were open about the matter; but he was not. Then came
+remembrance of the time of Gracie's convalescence; how he had ever
+treated her with uniform courtesy. She remembered, and sighed. The crown
+of sorrow is the remembrance of happier days.
+
+The inaudible feet of Time continued their never-ending progress. It was
+not a period in which Mrs. Seton-Carr was at ease; the amount of
+patience in which she possessed her soul could have been easily balanced
+on a needle point.
+
+The steamer bringing the quartette reached England. The four passengers
+kept together; travelled down to Wivernsea in the same carriage. Reached
+it early in Christmas week.
+
+Dick's reluctance to allow Masters to go to his old lodgings was
+manifest. There were many spare rooms at Ivy Cottage, he said, so why
+not go there? In his opinion it was simply idiotic to pig in at digs.
+But Masters had ideas of his own; at that moment they did not fit in
+with his friend's.
+
+The Chantrelles went on with Dick to Ivy Cottage. It was arranged that
+Masters should turn up there in the evening in time for dinner.
+
+He had been a trifle reluctant to accept that invitation at Dick's hand,
+but did so. He could have kicked himself, later, for doing so. As for
+Dick, the nearer they drew to the point where separation must come, the
+more full of admiration and real affection he became. He rested uneasily
+whenever his friend was out of his sight.
+
+Masters impatiently ticked off the hours till the arrival of
+dinner-time. He wanted so to see the woman he loved. Wanted a quiet ten
+minutes, that he might pour out his heart to her. He was willing to ask
+her forgiveness on his knees--had she not knelt to him? Had a
+heart-aching, a tongue-itching, to tell her that she was the one woman
+in the world for him.
+
+Things are not always disposed as man proposes; he did not tell her
+that. The quiet ten minutes did not come. When he entered Ivy Cottage
+before dinner it was with a light heart, the happiest man in Wivernsea.
+He left it after, with a heart of lead, the most miserable of men.
+
+Beneath the surface, the dinner party was not a success; yet it cannot
+be said to have flagged. Almost every one was in good spirits, in too
+good spirits, apparently, to trouble about the quiet man who sat next to
+Dick.
+
+Dick was thunderstruck at his friend's reticence. Thought at first that
+he must be, ridiculous as it seemed, suffering from shyness. Mrs.
+Seton-Carr thought she was getting a little of her own back! She got
+more; more than all.
+
+Common decency prevented her cutting Masters dead. But, as nearly as was
+consistent with common politeness, that was what happened. As fuel to
+fire was the open and violent flirtation of the hostess with Percy
+Chantrelle.
+
+Exultant as she was of her success, flushed as was her cheek with
+triumph--she knew Masters was smarting--she feared that she almost
+overdid it. But the pulsations of Percy's heart were accelerated; beat
+fast with hope: so did his sister's.
+
+It was impossible to avoid seeing Mrs. Seton-Carr's flushed excitement.
+Masters noted too the soft glances she shot across the table Percy
+Chantrelle's way; noticed them with a feeling at his heart which was
+more than painful.
+
+The author was in possession of more than his usual keenness. Perhaps it
+out-balanced his power of cool observation. Anyway, he saw not beneath
+the surface. The soundness of his deductions suffered by reason thereof.
+
+They were happy enough, the brother and sister; the only real happiness
+there was around the table. Mabel was playing a part: playing it well;
+wore her mask with success. Her laugh rang out merrily at each of
+Chantrelle's jokes. But just as full as her face and voice were of
+mirth, so was her heart full of ache and pain.
+
+Mrs. Seton-Carr would have given worlds just then to be able to rise
+from her table; she needed so greatly to go to her room for a good cry.
+But a Lucifer-like pride upheld her. Laugh, and the world laughs with
+you; weep, and you weep alone. She knew that.
+
+The men did not remain long in union after the retirement of the ladies.
+To two-thirds of the trinity the cigars seemed flavourless. As a matter
+of fact, their respective elements lacked the power of combination.
+
+The third factor, Chantrelle, was happy enough; triumph made him so. But
+there was no infection in his merriment. As a smoking-room raconteur he
+was usually a big success. But to-night his best stories fizzled out to
+lame and impotent conclusions.
+
+The laugh of approval was conspicuously absent.
+
+
+
+
+                                  CHAPTER XXX
+
+                              AS FAITHFUL AS A DOG
+
+
+The men left the smoke-room; there was no calumet of peace
+there. All Percy's efforts to be entertaining ended in--perhaps
+appropriately--smoke. They joined the ladies, to find harmony and
+concord; music was under way.
+
+Masters was full of thought; deep misery kind. Whatever charm music may
+have to soothe a savage breast, it had none for him. He was ever a
+failure at social functions: was conspicuously so to-night; detested
+them, in fact, with a whole-souled detestation.
+
+As to Dick, the gloom which had fallen on him during dinner seemed too
+thick for penetration. Merry Dick belied his nickname; had no more
+merriment in him than has a mute at a funeral.
+
+In the drawing-room Masters was as miserable as he had been in the
+dining and smokerooms. Turned over photographs; sought in vain for
+something to make him look less of a fool than he felt. At last came to
+the end of his endurance tether; under a plea of some work he had to
+post to a publisher by the early morning's mail, hastily excused
+himself.
+
+"It's a glorious night, old chap." Dick, speaking hoarsely, and getting
+into his great-coat. "I'll walk home with you. We will smoke a cigar
+together."
+
+Masters said good-night; shook hands. Noticed the burning heat of Mrs.
+Seton-Carr's, as for a moment her hand rested in his--but did not accord
+the true reason for it. She was even laughing with Chantrelle at the
+very moment she said good-night; was a natural actress: a woman.
+
+"How quiet Mr. Masters is." The cat purring: Amy speaking, as the door
+closed. "But I suppose, socially, authors are as dull as ditch water.
+Keep all their clever thoughts for their books. It is selfish of them in
+the extreme."
+
+Amy laughed gaily; continued in that strain. Laughter is the allotment
+of those who win; the Chantrelles felt justified in the belief that they
+were in no way losing.
+
+Mrs. Seton-Carr professed accord in the opinion of Masters' dulness; the
+sea voyage had not improved him. Society was not the thing he shone in;
+in fact, she had found him rather depressing; was glad he left so early.
+Lies! Lies--each and every one of the opinions she expressed.
+
+The two men who had left the bungalow walked along the Parade for a time
+without speaking. Each was full of emotion. Dick's found vent first; he
+blurted out:
+
+"I'm--I'm awfully sorry, old man!"
+
+There was a faint tinge of nervousness in Masters' responding laugh; he
+was not a man to assimilate pity very well, even his best friends'.
+Throwing away the cigar, which had gone out, he lighted his pipe; the
+match betrayed a shaking hand.
+
+"Thanks.... Cloudless night; looks like being a fine day to-morrow,
+doesn't it?"
+
+The effort to change the subject proved futile; Dick spoke impulsively:
+
+"Hang the weather!... You don't think I knew anything of this, dear old
+chap----"
+
+"No! No!"
+
+"--or you know I should have----"
+
+"Yes, yes. I know."
+
+"Mab has always professed to positively loathe Percy; tolerated him
+because she liked his sister. He is a bit of a bounder, you know."
+
+"Your sister does not seem to share in that opinion of yours."
+
+He could not quite keep the bitterness out of the way in which he said
+that.
+
+"No!"
+
+The brother admitted it; spoke just as bitterly. When they reached his
+lodgings Masters said:
+
+"Come round, will you?"
+
+"You--you won't come on to the cottage to----"
+
+"Oh, no! No!"
+
+"No. I didn't expect you would. I had counted on things being so
+different! Counted on a merry Christmas."
+
+Dick laughed as he said, thought of, a merry Christmas: the unpleasant,
+ironic laugh of a disappointed man. Just then he was as full of
+disappointment as he could well hold.
+
+"I had gone in for a certain amount of accountancy too."
+
+Masters made the response with a little catch in his voice, which the
+assumed laugh could not disguise. He had stopped and was standing with
+his hand on Dick's shoulder.
+
+"Do you remember that last time I held you like this, dear boy? I was so
+full of joy then, so blinded by it, to what I was doing, that you
+accused me of squeezing you to hurting point." A sigh punctuated his
+speech. "I don't feel like hurting you now."
+
+"Squeeze the life out of me, if it will be any relief to your feelings."
+Dick spoke gruffly. "It's your life. I shouldn't be living at all if it
+were not for you."
+
+He was a good boy was Dick, with a heart in him; a heart in the right
+place. It grieved him to see even the suspicion of a tear in the eye of
+the friend he loved so well.
+
+His own brown eyes looked into the author's with silent, dog-like
+fidelity and sympathy. Masters was not insensible to it. It was an
+eloquent silence; expressed far more to him than words could have done.
+
+"I made a mistake, Dick; that's all. I suppose all of us do; the world
+seems so full of them.... And let this be the last of it, dear old man,
+will you? Don't recur to it ever again; please. The sore is fresh,
+and--and--I don't mind owning to you, it hurts. Please don't let us talk
+about it--ever again--please."
+
+Dick grasped the hand extended to him; held it in a long, tight grip.
+Put his other hand on his companion's shoulder, and was about to speak.
+Then felt that speech would be a failure; simply said gruffly:
+
+"I'll see you in the morning, old man; I'll walk round. Good-night."
+
+Not another word passed between them; a tight hand-grip and they parted.
+Masters to his rooms, Dick homeward bound--a journey he made with the
+blood coursing through his veins at boiling point. He had more than a
+little of his sister's temper.
+
+Dick was simply furious at the manner in which Mabel had treated
+Masters. He dared not trust himself to more talk that night. Just looked
+into the drawing-room at the bungalow, professed weariness, said a
+hurried good-night and retired to his room.
+
+In the morning, Gracie offered strong evidence that she had a tongue in
+her head; was full of the return of Prince Charlie. She had heard of his
+arrival with delight; was running over with anxiety to see him.
+Instinctively she felt that Uncle Dick was the ways and means. When she
+heard that he was going to call on Masters that morning, she emulated
+the limpet; he could not have shaken her off had he tried.
+
+"Get your things on, Puss," said Dick, as the breakfast things were
+being cleared away, "and I'll take you round to see him."
+
+Miss Chantrelle professed the most acute astonishment. Not so much by
+what she said, but the way she acted. Wasn't Mr. Masters coming in to
+lunch?... Nor to dinner? Not at all that day?... Those carefully combed
+eyebrows of hers almost disappeared under her fringe--she was so
+surprised!
+
+Gracie had scampered off and returned in full war-paint: best hat, best
+shoes, best coat and, crowning glory, new muff! She did hope Prince
+Charlie would notice it and ask her all about it. But if he did not, she
+could tell him. That is one of the advantages of being very young.
+
+When Gracie and Dick had gone out, Miss Chantrelle improved the
+opportunity with her hostess. Nearly drove that lady to the brink of
+madness by her anxiety to know if they had quarrelled; what it meant;
+why he wasn't coming, etc.
+
+Mabel did not know; really, the matter was of little interest to her.
+His presence made very little difference; she wondered Amy could bother
+about him.
+
+That was what she was able to bring herself to say. But the effort was a
+big one; she was not a conspicuous success in lies of the top-notch
+kind.
+
+Matters continued in this way. Things are not always what they seem; it
+was by no means a pleasant little party at Ivy Cottage. When at
+home--which was a very rare thing, for he spent most of his time at
+Masters' lodgings--Dick was sulky to the extreme of sullenness.
+
+Affairs wore a different complexion a little later. When the rosy finger
+heralded the dawn of the day before Christmas, it was the precursor of
+brightness of another kind. Two incidents happened which changed the
+current of things.
+
+Miss Chantrelle had the watchful, veiled eyes of the domestic cat. On
+the principle of striking the iron whilst hot, she urged her brother to
+propose marriage to their hostess forthwith. Thought that delays were
+dangerous.
+
+She took him out for a walk to discuss the pros and cons of the
+proposal. Was a wise little woman, and a firm believer in the theory
+that walls have ears. Knowing what she knew, she mapped out the route
+her brother was to travel in his journey to Mrs. Seton-Carr's heart.
+
+But there is such a thing as being too clever: so sharp that one cuts
+oneself. The average brain has a direct way of working; sees no
+by-paths, so wastes no time on them; goes straight to the point.
+
+Amy's cleverness led to her undoing.
+
+
+
+
+                                  CHAPTER XXXI
+
+                                 A TEACUP STORM
+
+
+The coast being clear, Dick's storm-cloud burst. The Chantrelles out for
+their walk, he imagined them to be washing their domestic dirty linen,
+he took the floor.
+
+Being alone, he meant having it out, as he termed it, with his sister.
+Had quite determined on doing it very quietly and calmly. Whistling a
+few bars of Rule Britannia by way of appropriate prelude, he said
+suddenly:
+
+"I am expecting one or two important letters, Mab. I wish directly they
+come you would send them to the post, will you--re-directed to my club?"
+
+"Re-directed--to--your--club!"
+
+"Yes. I have not quite made up my mind where I shall put up, but I am
+bound to go into the club each day. You won't forget, will you?"
+
+He made a pretended movement in the direction of the door. She was on
+her feet in a moment, stopping him; stood by his side in dismay. Seized
+the lapels of his coat and looked at him reproachfully, horror-stricken;
+fear for him tearing at her heart-strings.
+
+"Dick!"
+
+"Hullo!"
+
+"What--do--you--mean?"
+
+"What do I me--. Surely I spoke plainly. I just want you to
+re-direct----"
+
+"Yes, yes, yes. But you are here!"
+
+"Ah! Now. But I am going up to London by the afternoon train."
+
+"To--London!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Mabel's heart sank. She read obstinacy in that frowning face of his;
+knew what sort of thing that was to fight; had had experience of it. She
+played what was usually a trump card.
+
+"And at Christmas time, too! Christmas! You will leave me here alone?"
+
+"Alone? Well--I like that! You have got your dear friends, the
+Chantrelles. There isn't much of a lonely look about you when Percy is
+around."
+
+"Dick!"
+
+"Hullo!"
+
+"Don't be horrid!"
+
+"Why? Do you claim a monopoly of the right to be so?"
+
+"Dick!"
+
+Her eyes were flashing now; her face had gone crimson-coloured, and her
+little foot was tapping the floor. She had emotions which ran up her
+thermometer with the rapidity of a lightning's flash. The altitude of
+their tempers just then was about equally high.
+
+"Don't keep calling me Dick like that," he said. "It's irritating."
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+"With me? Nothing!"
+
+"There is."
+
+"Very well, there is. Have your own way. I know that way--you are like
+the Pears' Soap boy--you won't be happy till you get it."
+
+"Dick!" She almost spat out his name in her fierce emphasis. "You are
+not going--you shall not go to town to-day!"
+
+"All being well," he replied calmly--white heat calm--"I shall catch the
+three-thirty-five up."
+
+She was white too, with annoyance. Managed to choke down some of the
+things she was burning to say; was alive to what their effect would be
+if uttered. She knew Dick; experience had taught her how large was the
+amount of patience needed to cope with his impetuosity. Her foot heavily
+on the pedal of her temper, she gave forth sweet sounds:
+
+"What does this mean? Tell me, Dick. Why are you going?"
+
+The voice was so very gentle that it hurt Dick to hurt her. But he
+persisted--the little wretch, to treat his best friend so!--she deserved
+it. Yawning, he said:
+
+"Oh, I feel like spending a merry Christmas. The kind of thing that
+clings to Christmas cards and Dickens was so full of, you know. I am
+afraid there isn't enough merriment to go round here; not enough to
+satisfy a man with a large appetite for it."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Way it is dished up, I suppose: surroundings. I don't like your
+friends----"
+
+"My friends!"
+
+The foot slipped off the pedal: the note of temper sounded as she blazed
+out indignantly:
+
+"Who asked them here?"
+
+Dick shrugged his shoulders. Otherwise disregarded her interruption as
+he continued:
+
+"--you positively insult mine."
+
+"Insult!"
+
+"I think that's the correct word; I can't find a more expressive one
+lying about."
+
+"Pray who are the friends of mine that you do not like?"
+
+"Refrain from the obvious! You haven't fifty thousand of them staying in
+the house just now!"
+
+"The Chantrelles, you mean. I repeat, who invited them here? Answer me!"
+
+She stamped her foot as she let loose her shaft. It went home this time:
+buried its head, rendering Dick furious. He had cursed himself a hundred
+times for being the cause of their presence. But for that----
+
+"Look here, Mab, you and I don't want to quarrel."
+
+A quarrel just then was the thing he was itching for; if he could have
+hit something or somebody it would have been an immense relief to his
+feelings; he went on:
+
+"I have a friend; a man who saved my life! A man who devoted himself to
+me; but for whom, I should be now at the bottom of the sea."
+
+"Dick!"
+
+She hid her face in her hands. All the memories she had thrust aside,
+grateful memories, rushed back on her. She did not want Dick to see what
+she knew her face would show: horror of her own ingratitude to Masters.
+The recollection of all he had done for her brother flooded her.
+
+"Oh, it's true! I'm not romancing. When I said good-bye to you in that
+Lambeth bedroom, I meant it to be a good-bye. I went on board that boat
+with the full intention of making a hole in the water."
+
+"Dick! Dick! Don't say it!"
+
+"I do say it. I say it emphatically. Life didn't seem worth the living
+to me. Masters shared my cabin; nursed me; tended me; made me see things
+differently. In fact, made a man of me. When I think of him, and all he
+did for me, I cry from my heart: God bless him! God bless him!"
+
+He turned his head that she might not see the tears filling his eyes;
+continued:
+
+"When I think of the debt I owe him, a debt I would pay with my life
+cheerfully if it would help him, I--I--I----"
+
+She interrupted him; was standing close to him again, white-faced,
+dry-eyed, breathing heavily.
+
+"Dick! Dick!" she gasped. "You don't know how you are hurting me!"
+
+"And I bring him here," he spluttered, "to your home. Because it was the
+only place I could bring him to; because I thought my sister loved me,
+that she would stretch out a warm hand of welcome to the man who saved
+me. What happens? What happens? She doesn't throw the plates and dishes
+at him, but, by God! I wish she had! It would have been better than the
+cold, cutting, contemptuous nature of her insults!"
+
+He struggled to get free from her arms; they had found their way round
+his neck, and her head was on his bosom. But she held him too tightly.
+He was unfair; she knew it; not all the wrong was on her side.
+
+"You think nothing of me, Dick!" Her sobbing expostulation: "You ignore
+the things he has done; the way he has behaved to me!"
+
+"Yes," replied Dick grimly. "Perhaps it's just as well I do. Gracie
+tells me that in the dead of night he came, and sat up, and nursed her
+back to life! That's one of the things he did for you and the child you
+profess to love so much! He's good at nursing, is Prince Charlie, poor
+old chap!--I have had some. You have had some. But it seems to have
+struck us in different lights; to have inspired different feelings.
+Personally, I'd lay down my life for him! The grandest fellow I ever
+met; God bless him!"
+
+"Dick! Dick! Dick!"
+
+She covered her face with her hands; the tears were streaming through
+her fingers. He went on pitilessly; his blood was too hot now for
+softness.
+
+"You don't see anything to be grateful for in what he did for you. On
+the contrary, his kindly affection for Gracie is a cause of complaint!
+You coolly tell me I don't know the things he has done, and how he has
+behaved to you! 'Prince Charlie'--yes. Gracie was right in naming him
+so. He is a prince; a Real Prince. The child has more gratitude in her
+little finger than you----"
+
+She stopped him. Would not let him continue. Placed a hand over his
+mouth as she cried:
+
+"Dick, you are breaking my heart!"
+
+
+
+
+                                 CHAPTER XXXII
+
+                        RESUMPTION OF DICK'S GOOD TEMPER
+
+
+Although she had got her arms round him again, Mabel could not stop
+Dick's voice. He had something to say and was determined to say it; felt
+wound up to go.
+
+"Breaking your heart!" he commented contemptuously. "You have already
+broken his; but you will have Percy to mend yours."
+
+"Percy! How dare you suggest such a thing!"
+
+He looked at her astonished; was startled into absolute amazement at the
+indignation in her voice as she broke away from him.
+
+"Dare! Well----"
+
+"Percy!" She repeated the name scornfully. "You know I hate, detest,
+despise, loathe him."
+
+Her face was so very expressive just then that there could be no doubt
+she was saying what she meant. Dick was quick to realize that. Was so
+astonished at the turn matters had taken that he could only ejaculate:
+
+"Eh!"
+
+A small word, but all he felt capable of shaping just then; was his way
+of expressing the unutterable mystification and astonishment which had
+gripped hold of him.
+
+"You _know_ it, Dick!" Boot on floor: tattoo resumed. "Don't stand there
+with that idiotic vacant look on your face, as if you were surprised to
+hear it."
+
+Surprised! It was a feeble description; idiotic was distinctly better.
+He stood as one paralysed, listening whilst she excitedly continued:
+
+"I have told you so dozens, hundreds, thousands, millions of times!"
+
+Trust a woman if she picks up figures to shed them with a lavish hand!
+The blank look on Dick's face intensified. He shook his head in utter
+hopelessness; the mystery was too much for him. He was dealing with a
+woman, and--and--well, he was only an average specimen of a man after
+all!
+
+"Do I sleep?" He found voice at last; quoted: "Do I dream? Or are
+visions about?"
+
+"I felt mad when I got the letter to say you insisted on the Chantrelles
+coming here for Christmas. But I didn't like to disappoint you, Dick,
+the moment of your home-coming, too."
+
+"I insisted?" He was all eagerness as he blurted out the question. "Who
+says I insisted?"
+
+"Amy in her letter said so----"
+
+"The awful liar!"
+
+"Nice way to talk of a lady!"
+
+"Lady be--I mean she's not a lady if she set down such a thing in black
+and white. She so badgered me on the boat with hints for an invitation,
+that at last, in sheer desperation, I did ask them to come."
+
+"Of course you did! And I wish they were a hundred thousand miles away!"
+
+The blank look of astonishment crept on to his face again as he
+stuttered:
+
+"You--wish--they----"
+
+"Yes, yes, yes."
+
+"Well, I'm----Do--you--mean--to--tell--me that you weren't glad to see
+them? When during the whole of the first dinner you did nothing but
+simper and make eyes and laugh with Percy, till the veriest fool in
+Christendom could have seen you were head over ears in love with him?"
+
+"I hate him! I hate him! I Hate Him!"
+
+His sister's vehemence partly cleared the clouds away. Acted as a douche
+on his bad temper, as a tonic to his good one; coolly he said:
+
+"My dear girl, take my advice; you'd better send for the quack! Your
+mind's unhinged; that's what's the matter with you. You're fairly going
+dotty! If you hate him, what the dev--deuce did you want to pretend to
+make love to him for?"
+
+"I d--did it"--she was sobbing in her handkerchief now; all the
+stiffening gone from her back--"to annoy P--Prince Ch--Ch--Charlie."
+
+What there was left of the look of astonishment quite left his face. The
+scales fell; his eyes were fully opened. Thrusting his hands into his
+pockets he said vigorously, characteristically:
+
+"Well--I'm--damned!"
+
+Then hope sprang into his eyes; filled his bosom. There was a tangle
+somewhere, but he was getting his fingers on the ends: he needed to
+unravel it. Walking over to, he sat beside his sister, who was sobbing
+on the sofa.
+
+"Just hold up the water supply, old girl." He spoke with all a brother's
+brutality. "Turn off the tap, and talk coherently, if it isn't too great
+a tax. I've only got a man's brain, so you might make an effort and
+leave off conundruming. The way you women twist up things--well, there!
+You seem to take a positive delight in making troubles for yourselves
+and everybody else; put up obstacles and cry because you can't get over
+them. Why did you want to annoy Masters?"
+
+"He insul--sul--sul--ted me so."
+
+Once more a look of amazement crept on Dick's face as he repeated:
+
+"He--insulted--you--so?"
+
+The idea of Prince Charlie's insulting a woman was--well, he almost
+laughed as he said:
+
+"For many weeks past he had not seen you; for many weeks past I have
+been his close companion. During all that time he has spoken of you to
+me as if you were a goddess, instead of being a little devil with a
+temper vile enough to provoke a saint. He insult you!"
+
+Then he did laugh--heartily. Began to see that there was a path out of
+the difficulty--it only needed finding. Let him find it--that was all!
+
+"He c--c--could not have thought m--m--much of me, or he would not have
+f--f--flirted with every girl on board."
+
+"Flirted! Prince Ch----" His laugh broke out again; into a roar this
+time. "Why, he was the most taciturn beggar on the boat, to everyone but
+me! Flirt! That's good. Beyond a 'Good morning,' I never heard him
+address a woman. If one at table asked him for the water-bottle, he
+acted as if she had done him a deadly wrong in speaking to him! He was
+not even on pass-the-salt-and-pepper terms with a lady on board. Flirt!
+This is really too rich!"
+
+The laughter rang out again. His anger was all gone; his face was all
+sunshine. There was a comedy side to the affair, after all! That was the
+side of things Dick was sure to reach sooner or later; his nature tended
+that way. It served to detect the merest trace of humour in things.
+
+"Dick!"
+
+A misgiving was seizing her. She was putting two and two together and
+making a decidedly unpleasant four of it; said:
+
+"Isn't it true that he made violent love to Amy directly she came on
+board?"
+
+"To Amy! To Amy! If there was one woman he avoided--positively
+avoided--more than another, it was Amy. He seemed to take a dislike to
+her directly she was introduced; and in justice to her, I am bound to
+say that she reciprocated. From her point of view, I suppose that was
+showing proper feeling. She was for ever trying to poison my mind
+against him. But I knew him, and I knew her. She preached to the winds!"
+
+Dick had to pause. Having got hold of the offending root, his
+indignation was rising, getting the better of him.
+
+"Make love to her!" he repeated. "Good Heavens! Beyond 'Good morning'
+and 'Good night' I don't suppose he spoke a hundred words to her on the
+whole voyage home."
+
+"Then--I--I--have been made a fool----"
+
+"Rather an easy task, I should imagine," interjected Dick, with truly
+brotherly contempt. "But who is responsible for the job? Whoever it was,
+couldn't have been killed with the hard work!"
+
+"Wait."
+
+She ran out of the room to her bedroom. Quickly opening a drawer, made a
+moment's search therein. Then returned with a letter in her
+hand--triumphant.
+
+"It is not altogether correct form for a woman to show a man another
+woman's letter, but read that."
+
+Dick sat down at the table and she smoothed the document out before him
+with a degree of gusto. It was her warrant of justification; the only
+title-deed she possessed to the behaviour of which she had been guilty.
+
+He read it. His face became worth watching as he did so. Amusement,
+loathing, astonishment, all held sway on it at odd times. Despite his
+disgust though, there was big hope in the sediment. As he concluded he
+whistled his favourite "Rule Britannia."
+
+"Well?"
+
+She had been eagerly watching him. Read the answer in his face, but
+woman-like asked what she already knew:
+
+"Isn't it true?"
+
+"True!" He tossed the letter back to her as he answered. "From beginning
+to end it is a tissue of deliberate lies."
+
+She heard rapturously. The moral worth of her friend Amy and the
+ultimate destination of Amy's soul, were matters for future
+commiseration. They sank into insignificance before the resuscitation of
+her faith in Masters. That mighty edifice had been obscured by clouds;
+the clouds were clearing and the proud summit was peeping through.
+
+So glad was she, that she positively revelled in the admission of her
+own gullibility; said joyously:
+
+"Lies! And I believed them!"
+
+"That doesn't astonish me! I used to think you were a sensible girl, but
+now--well, there! But there's more than mere lies in that letter."
+
+"What?"
+
+"You can't see it? And you think yourself cute! Can't you read between
+the lines?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I told Amy of Prince Charlie's love for you; that started the ball.
+What does she set herself to do? Poison your mind against him. Why? Note
+the lie about Percy's turning white when----Good Lord, you can see
+through it now, can't you? You don't want spectacles for that? Your own
+common sense will tell you--though you certainly don't seem to have a
+large supply on hand."
+
+"I--she wanted me--wanted her brother to----"
+
+"That's it! You've got the hammer on the nail head at last! That
+accounts for her questioning me as to how you were left under the will;
+whether the money was settled on you or not."
+
+"What a perfect pair of beasts!"
+
+"Hear, hear!"
+
+"And you invited them here! How could you? They are not fit people to
+have in the house!"
+
+"I like that! Upon my word! See how gone you were on Percy at din----"
+
+"Dick! If you ever dare to say----"
+
+"Well, I must see about packing up----"
+
+"Packing up! Don't let me think you quite a complete idiot, Dick!"
+
+"The train goes at three-thir----"
+
+"Dick!" She stamped her foot in anger. "Why do you want to make it worse
+for me than it need be by your stupidity. You perfect horror, you!"
+
+"Stupidity runs in the family, I suppose. You have been mighty wise,
+haven't you? Um--you don't want me to go, then?"
+
+"And leave me in this hopeless muddle alone? It wouldn't be commonly
+human--to say nothing of brotherly!"
+
+"Oh, well." He affected a resigned air to hide his smiles. "I suppose
+I'll have to stop if you put it like that. I'll just walk up to Prince
+Charlie's place and tell him I shan't be able to go up with him."
+
+"To--go--up--with--him?"
+
+Dismay caused her to voice the question in instalments. Dick stooped,
+pretended to tie up his shoe-lace, some act was necessary to hide from
+her the amused look in his eyes.
+
+"Yes. I'd like to say good-bye to the dear old chap. He'll probably go
+abroad and stop there. Maybe I shall never see him again."
+
+"Abroad! Never--see----"
+
+Then she stopped dead in the middle of what she was saying; stood as one
+dumbfounded. Dick's eyes in his averted head were twinkling and his
+mouth twitching. She certainly had some ground for the opinion she
+expressed of him.
+
+He was a brute of a brother.
+
+
+
+
+                                 CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+                               A TANGLED TRINITY
+
+
+An observer might have imagined Dick possessed of a just grievance
+against his tailor; it took him such a while to get into his coat. He
+was doing so to the accompaniment of "Rule, Britannia," pursed-up lips
+fashioning it. The difficulty with his coat was one of his own creation;
+he was thoroughly enjoying the situation and prolonging it as long as
+possible. The whistling served as a sort of slow music to his little
+drama.
+
+There was not even a whisper of Masters' leaving England. Indeed, it was
+pretty certain that had he been going abroad, Dick would have been on
+hand as his travelling companion. He was, as he termed it, rubbing it
+in. Brothers are awful brutes at times.
+
+"Dick! Dear Dick!"
+
+She had come to him affectionately; had put her arms round his neck.
+
+"Hold on there! Don't go slobbering on my front again; it is all limp
+and wet now. I don't want to get inflammation of the lungs through
+wearing a damp shirt! You are too liberal with your grief, Sis; keep
+some of it for your handkerchief."
+
+"I'm not crying. Dick--Dick--dear, dear old Dick." She was whispering in
+his ear in an artful way that she had never known him able to resist.
+"You know you would not like to make me miserable--your own loving
+sister----"
+
+He was grinning from ear to ear. The humour of the situation appealed to
+him as he interrupted:
+
+"None of your blarney; none of your soft sawder! What's the meaning of
+this sudden overflowing, spring-up-in-a-moment affection? I was an
+idiot, fool, stupid, a few minutes ago."
+
+"Dear Dick!"
+
+"Yes, that's all very well. But what is it? This sudden discovery of my
+value means you want something."
+
+She put her mouth close to his ear and whispered again. A very low
+whisper; he only just caught it:
+
+"Don't let him go, Dick."
+
+"Let who go?"
+
+She knew that to be an evasion; that he was wilfully misunderstanding
+her. Just shook him and whispered earnestly:
+
+"Please!"
+
+Dick was magnanimous; he could afford to be. His deep-laid scheme had
+proved successful.
+
+"Well, I'll see what I can do. But what are you going to do about the
+Chantrelles?"
+
+A change came over her face; every scrap of softness seemed to fade out
+of it. In a voice full of determination she said:
+
+"The Chantrelles will leave here before the day is over!"
+
+"Rule, Britannia" once more thrilled the air as the whistler caught his
+sister in his arms.
+
+"You're a brick, old girl." He kissed her. "Things will pan out all
+right after all. Now, shall I stay and bear a hand, or would you rather
+handle the precious couple all by yourself?"
+
+There was a steely glitter in her eye--it boded ill for the absent
+ones--as she answered vindictively:
+
+"I think I can manage alone!"
+
+"I think you can, old girl!... Do you know," he added with mock
+severity, "when you look a little demon like that, I don't somehow fancy
+trusting my friend into your keeping. One good turn----; you know the
+rest. I believe I should be carrying that out by preventing his marrying
+you."
+
+"He hasn't asked me yet!"
+
+She spoke saucily with sparkling eyes; yet with a rosy blush on her
+face.
+
+"That's true; perhaps he won't! There's hope for the poor beggar after
+all! He came all the way from the Mediterranean framing words how he
+should ask you to marry him, and he had a narrow escape on the dinner
+party night. Perhaps you killed him then by your nice behaviour; killed
+any desire he might have had to marry you." Then he added maliciously:
+"Let's hope so, for his sake."
+
+"Dick! You are a perfect horror!"
+
+"It was 'Dear Dick' a minute ago! But there--you're as uncertain as the
+weather."
+
+The shot went home; told in the flushed, shamefaced look; Dick inquired:
+
+"What are you going to say to the Chantrelles?"
+
+"That is my business. They will travel up by the afternoon train. Your
+business is to go to Prince Charlie, and see that he comes here to-night
+to dinner."
+
+He sobered down in a moment at that; answered seriously:
+
+"No, old girl, that is out of the question. Nothing I could say would
+induce him to that. He simply hates the Chantrelles."
+
+"I have told you--they won't be here."
+
+"Even the knowledge of their absence wouldn't make him come to your
+house, after the way in which you behaved to him last time."
+
+"All the same," she said defiantly, "a place shall be set for him at
+table."
+
+"Look here, old girl, I'm willing to help you, but don't make a pocket
+idiot of yourself. I tell you nothing I could say would induce him
+to----"
+
+"Well, you can get him to go for a walk, I suppose, can't you?"
+
+"You know we always go for a walk late every afternoon--weather
+permitting or otherwise."
+
+"Very well; this afternoon walk eastwards. You know the seat at the end
+of the Parade?"
+
+"You mean, that one by the wall, which Gracie calls Our Seat?"
+
+"Yes. Make your way there; walk to that, sit down and wait--till I
+come."
+
+It dawned on him then: her intent. Admiration of her diplomacy found
+vent in the strains of "Rule, Britannia."
+
+"Don't say anything, Dick. Promise me that. Not a word to Prince Charlie
+about--about--anything."
+
+"But when you turn up at the seat, what am I to do? I suppose it will be
+a case of two's company, three's none?"
+
+"Oh, you can go and pick shells and seaweed on the beach!"
+
+"What! In the dark? Is thy brother a dog that he should do these things?
+I'll find my way back by myself. You think he'll see you home?"
+
+"You can rely on it he will."
+
+Mrs. Seton-Carr had confidence in herself. Perhaps it was as well; few
+things are won without that.
+
+"All right. We shall be there about five o'clock."
+
+"So shall I."
+
+"Right.... There are the Chantrelles coming up the road; I'll clear out
+the back way. If they are going, I'd rather be spared saying farewells.
+I might introduce some choice expressions of my opinion of them."
+
+"Leave that to me!"
+
+Mabel spoke with bitter sweetness. One glance at her face convinced Dick
+that he could do so with safety.
+
+"Right!"
+
+He disappeared through the back as the Chantrelles entered by the front
+door. Mrs. Seton-Carr was waiting for them. She smiled pleasantly, iced
+pleasantry, and invited them into the drawing-room. Seated, she faced
+them. There, wasted no time in preliminaries; struck out:
+
+"There is something I want to clear up, Mr. Chantrelle."
+
+She fixed that gentleman with her eyes. On her face was a pleasant
+smile; it never faded once during the interview.
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"About Mr. Masters," she continued. "There has been something
+unpleasant--so far as he is concerned--said of the voyage home you all
+made from the Mediterranean. Did you ever see him attempt to make love
+to your sister?"
+
+"Great Scott! No. He seemed to like her about as little as Amy liked
+him."
+
+From the corner of her eye, Mrs. Seton-Carr could see that her dear
+friend Amy had grown very white--Amy had a quicker brain than had her
+brother--but she never lost her hold on Percy's face; went on:
+
+"Did he bear the reputation of a lady-killer? Of making love to every
+woman on board?"
+
+"My dear Mrs. Carr!" Percy laughed heartily as he replied, "I never saw
+him talk to a woman! He had the reputation on board of being a
+woman-hater. He was a perfect bear!"
+
+Amy glanced at her brother reproachfully, meaningly--too late. Besides,
+he was looking at his hostess and not at her; her telegraphic
+communication was without effect. It was a pity, a thousand pities, from
+Amy's point of view. She had to sit quiet and listen.
+
+"Thanks so much," Mrs. Seton-Carr was saying sweetly. "You see, I was
+told all that, and it was not a pleasant thing to be told. You must
+understand that I am engaged to be married to Mr. Masters shortly--but I
+think you knew that?"
+
+Percy's face fell; all the merriment dropped out of it. A moment's
+silence ensued; not what could fairly be labelled a dull moment. Then
+Percy broke it; said slowly:
+
+"No; I had not the slightest idea of such a thing."
+
+"Is that possible? Surely your sister told you! She says in this letter
+that when you heard of my forthcoming marriage to Mr. Masters you grew
+white. Although why," she laughed, "you should grow white, I cannot
+conceive. Our pleasant intercourse has always been quite platonic,
+hasn't it? That was its charm; one has so few friends. You know that?"
+
+"I--yes. Now I know it."
+
+"I am sorry to say it, Mr. Chantrelle, to you; you always have behaved
+as a gentleman to me; but this letter," she held it out to him, "written
+by your sister whilst on the boat, is a tissue of lies from beginning to
+end. The work of a woman absolutely unfitted--in my opinion--for decent
+society!"
+
+Brother and sister were on their feet in a moment. The atmosphere seemed
+red-hot to them. They had had unpleasant moments in their somewhat
+adventurous career, but this was the worst. Their hostess's words were
+as the lashes of a whip.
+
+Chantrelle muttered something about breaking the laws of hospitality; a
+weak effort to stand up for his sister. It failed half-way. Then he
+abandoned her to her fate.
+
+"Take me away, Percy," his sister gasped. "I will not stay to be further
+insulted."
+
+"Miss Chantrelle has forestalled me." Mrs. Seton-Carr still spoke
+quietly, still retained her seat. "That is precisely what I was about to
+ask you to do, Mr. Chantrelle. One can lock up from a thief, but a
+liar--a deliberate, scheming, unscrupulous liar--there is no guarding
+against. Your sister, by her trickery, came near separating me from the
+man who loves me, the man I love. I should not forgive it in fifty
+lifetimes."
+
+Miss Chantrelle made an effort to speak. Her lips moved, but for once in
+her life she was unable to fashion words. She was a woman who trusted to
+a well-oiled tongue for squeezing out of the tightest places. It failed
+her now; the effort ended in a gasp.
+
+"Go and pack your things, Amy."
+
+Her brother spoke sternly. The white-faced woman almost staggered out of
+the room without a word. She was terribly upset; none of us like to be
+found out in our little lapses.
+
+"Read the letter, Mr. Chantrelle; I request you to. It will convince you
+that I am not more than necessarily bitter----"
+
+"There is no need. Your word is sufficient."
+
+Mr. Chantrelle bowed; had changed his tactics and was making the best of
+his position. His sister had led him into this; he would stand by her up
+to a point, but at the same time he would do what he could to save his
+own skin. There was no sense in needless sacrifice.
+
+"I know you well enough, know you could only behave as you are doing
+with good reason," he continued. "I am heartily sorry. Amy is my sister;
+I am bound to remember that whatever she has done." He held out his
+hand. "Good-bye. I can only ask you to acquit me personally of any--but
+there; explanations are perhaps better left alone. Good-bye--it will be
+well for us not to meet again."
+
+A note of feeling vibrated in his voice. A mere listener to the actual
+words would have detected no false ring in them. Would, perhaps, have
+admired him for the staunchness he exhibited towards his misguided
+sister.
+
+But his hostess stood face to face with him, and she saw that in his
+eye--lack of sincerity--which discounted the ingenuousness of his
+speech. Still Mrs. Seton-Carr agreed with it--in substance.
+
+"Good-bye. Yes, it is certainly better so.... My maid shall go across to
+the station for a porter and truck. They will be here by the time you
+have packed."
+
+They were. The Chantrelles left. Journeyed to London by the train Dick
+had mentioned; the most crestfallen couple travelling in it.
+
+It was the last of them.
+
+
+
+
+                                 CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+                                    OUR SEAT
+
+
+The Chantrelles gone, with the whistle of their departing train
+shrilling in her ears, Mabel sighed contentedly, gathered all there was
+of her together and spent a full two minutes in inspecting its
+reflection in the mirror.
+
+The sound of the closing of the door on them as they left had been sweet
+music in her ears. The warning shriek of the engine as it started out of
+the station, drawing them every moment further and further away from
+her, was sweeter still.
+
+Then she entered into consultation with her cook; set about ordering the
+most appetising little dinner she could devise. There was entailed an
+expenditure of anxious thought; the function was an important one. Mrs.
+Seton-Carr was not a woman to despise details of that kind.
+
+She had laughed once at a cynic's belief that, if you cannot make sure
+of retaining a man's love, you can, by securing the services of a good
+cook, make sure of his respect. Despite her laughter she was not without
+faith in the proverb that the road to a man's heart lies through his
+stomach.
+
+The last time Prince Charlie had dined at Ivy Cottage he had not enjoyed
+himself; she remembered why with a little flush of shame. There was
+determination that he should do so this time. And she rather thought she
+would enjoy herself too; anyway, it would not be her fault if they
+failed to do so.
+
+The shades of evening began their descent soon after half-past four
+o'clock. It was not too dark then for her to see her brother and Prince
+Charlie go by on the Parade--eastwards. The author's broad, square
+shoulders were unmistakable. She herself was hidden by the bedroom
+curtain she was behind.
+
+They had gone in the direction of the seat. A smile found place on her
+face; so far all was well. Then she tried on two or three hats. Was
+anxious to look her best; she knew that she could talk so much better
+when sure of her appearance. Sadness tinged her reflection; the beauty
+of her millinery would be wasted in the darkness.
+
+Then, with a sigh--she was a woman, with all a woman's belief in
+millinery's power--she hoped that not much talking would be needed.
+Silence and a good profile were more reliable. She looked at the clock:
+the minutes dragged slowly.
+
+At a quarter to five she left the cottage. Before the hour reached the
+end of the Parade. An east wind was blowing. As she neared the seat the
+odour of cigars came to her, borne on the wind from which the smokers
+were sheltered. Then she advanced.
+
+"Hullo, Sis!"
+
+Dick started to his feet as if she were an apparition, spoke in an
+exaggerated tone of surprise; continuing:
+
+"Who on earth would have thought of seeing you here?"
+
+She could have soundly boxed his ears for him--well-meaning Dick--for so
+overdoing it. He could not have exhibited more surprise had he thought
+her dropped from the clouds. Brothers really are terribly trying at
+times.
+
+Perhaps it was as well for him that he slowly moved away. Apparently he
+evinced a judicious, if sudden, interest in moonlight conchology.
+Anyway, he devoted his attention to some of the common objects of the
+sea-shore.
+
+That Dick did move off was the essential point. She saw, with relief,
+that he had sense enough for that. The sound of the whistling of "Rule
+Britannia" gradually died away in the distance.
+
+Masters had risen to his feet the moment his eyes fell on her. Stood
+there doubtful what he should do. She did not leave him in doubt long;
+advanced towards him, and stretching out her hand, said:
+
+"Prince Charlie, I am--oh, I am so sorry! Please forgive me!"
+
+It was a lame speech. She was surprised at, ashamed of, herself. She had
+rehearsed what she had intended saying all the afternoon. Now it came to
+the point she could not remember a word.
+
+Whatever she might think of her own words they were an immense surprise
+to Masters. He took her extended hand, common courtesy compelled him to
+that, and said gently:
+
+"Forgive? You are surely--oh, I have nothing to forgive!"
+
+"You have!"
+
+She insisted with a charming insistence. Somehow her eyes got to need
+mopping with her handkerchief--a lace handkerchief with a singularly
+pretty border, by the way.
+
+"I have b-behaved"--she mopped on--"like a wicked wretch t-to you."
+
+Of course, with a man of Masters' temperament it was most effective; she
+was playing an ideal game. Some men are used to tears; come to look upon
+them as an unavoidable factor in their dealings with women. The author
+had not reached that stage: probably never would.
+
+A woman crying, or in distress, never failed to appeal to him. Perhaps
+Mrs. Seton-Carr knew that. Women are very subtle; their intuition is no
+mythical possession. Any way, she played that handkerchief of hers for
+all it was worth.
+
+Masters still stood hesitating; was genuinely anxious and full of
+wonder: what he ought to do. Thoughts of eau de Cologne occurred to him.
+He knew women found relief in that kind of thing; but he bent over her
+and said:
+
+"I beg you--oh, I beg, earnestly, you will not distress yourself."
+
+He really meant it; her distress distressed him. The more she saw that
+the more tears she shed. Artful little crocodile!
+
+"You w-won't f-f-forgive me!"
+
+She knew all the time that he would.
+
+"Pray, Mrs.--you--I--I--have nothing to forgive. But if you think I
+have, I forgive you freely, fully."
+
+The road was getting smooth, she thought, but it was not safe to drop
+the handkerchief yet; plainly that was a strong weapon.
+
+"You m-m-must think me such an awful b-b-brute!"
+
+Wretched little prevaricator! She knew quite well that he thought
+nothing of the kind.
+
+"Believe me, I can never think of you in any way but the kindliest."
+
+True; every word of it. His heart was like a photographic plate, capable
+only of bearing one clear picture.
+
+"I d-daresay you wish me dead, or at the bottom of the s-sea--and I
+d-deserve it."
+
+Really she did. It was most unfair--this present performance of hers. It
+distressed him beyond measure; he said:
+
+"I wish you nothing but the greatest happiness it is possible for you to
+enjoy; wish it from my heart."
+
+"And I--I--have behaved so--s-s-so ungratefully to you."
+
+She uttered truth; perhaps for a change. But he denied what she said;
+answered:
+
+"Not at all! You behaved rightly; as your heart dictated."
+
+She had to flare up at that; could not help it. As a matter of fact all
+her actions had been in direct opposition to her heart's promptings.
+
+"I did nothing of the sort! My behaviour was quite wrong!"
+
+The handkerchief shifted a little to enable her to look up at him out of
+the corner of her eye, as she continued:
+
+"Just the reverse of the way my h-h-heart dictated."
+
+His own heart beat a little quicker at that, in expectation, as he asked
+eagerly:
+
+"When was that?"
+
+"At that wr-r-retched dinner."
+
+He sat down; somehow they both sat--apparently it was a simultaneous
+act. He was, however, to windward of her; she engineered that. The faint
+perfume of the hair of her bent head came to him. It has been already
+mentioned that Mrs. Seton-Carr devoted attention to details. No wonder
+the elder Weller warned his son against widows!
+
+"You have said either not enough or too much." He spoke hoarsely, in
+tense tones. "Tell me--more."
+
+"You want to make it h-h-hard for me; to humble me m-m-more."
+
+She sobbed out the words, the while her disengaged hand, curiously, fell
+on his. Naturally, his hand closed on hers, and--quite easily--he
+frustrated her efforts to take it away. He moved closer to her.
+
+She turned the back of her head to him. Was not unaware of the fact that
+her hair grew very prettily there; fell in soft little golden curls at
+the nape of her neck. Of course the movement was quite an unconscious
+one! Perhaps, too, it was pure accident that the moon just then had
+popped from behind a cloud, so lighting up things; she went on:
+
+"I t-think you are very h-hard to me."
+
+He moved closer still; every fibre in his being thrilled by contact with
+the woman he loved. Had he bent down, his lips would have touched her
+head. The blood was racing through his veins as he wondered--should he
+dare? Then he thought of the dinner party--remembered Chantrelle. The
+thought acted as the descent of iced water might have done: she was
+another man's property! He took his hand away.
+
+That alarmed her--dreadfully! She had thought all was going along so
+nicely; was actually getting ready for the union of lips; the final
+drying of her eyes. What could possibly have frozen him up like that?
+
+"I am sorry," he said, "you should think unpleasant things of me. But is
+there need?"
+
+The coldness of his tone struck a horrible chill to her heart. But it
+was not a moment for despair, rather for a marshalling of all her
+forces. She redoubled her efforts; fell on her knees by his side, and
+cried:
+
+"You are cruel! I am kneeling to you, asking you to forgive me, and you
+won't! I knelt to you once before--here on this spot--and you were cruel
+to me then----"
+
+"Ah, yes!"
+
+He interrupted her; the memory of his brutality then--he called it
+so--returned to him; his words came hurriedly:
+
+"For that I need your forgiveness; I ought to abjectly apologise. What I
+did, said, then was wholly under a misapprehension----"
+
+She seized on that: it gave her a chance. Moreover, it was now or
+never--so she thought. Metaphorically she set her teeth and said--Now.
+Actually she whispered:
+
+"Isn't it possible perhaps, that you may be under a misapprehension
+now?"
+
+She boldly raised her head and looked him straight in the face as she
+spoke. Tears had not in the least, strange to say, disfigured hers; her
+grief had not been that kind! She continued:
+
+"Don't do as you did then; don't push me away from you!"
+
+That was a rubbing of it in with a vengeance. Had the effect of making
+him speak with a strange quiver in his voice.
+
+"Please--please get up! I don't like--I can't bear--to see you----"
+
+Her disobedience was of the studied kind. She got so close to him that
+he felt the warmth of her body, the up-creep of her hands on his breast,
+the sweet warm breath from her lips. So holding him--holding in every
+sense of the word--she said with a spice of defiance in her voice:
+
+"I won't get up till you tell me you forgive me everything!"
+
+She had him at such a disadvantage! It was really grossly unfair. The
+poor wretch did not know whether he was on his head or his heels. Then,
+almost before he knew what he was doing, his arms were about her; he
+could not help it. He gripped her to him so closely that she could have
+cried out--but it was too sweet a pain to ask relief from.
+
+"Tell me." His voice was raucous in its hoarseness. "You do not--do not
+belong to Chantrelle?"
+
+A laugh came to her lips. A tinge of jealousy in the man she loves
+pleases a woman, spices things as it were. Besides, looked at from the
+right view-point, it is the subtlest of flattery.
+
+Hence her laughter.
+
+
+
+
+                                  CHAPTER XXXV
+
+                                 CHRISTMAS EVE
+
+
+Mrs. Seton Carr seemed in no hurry to withdraw herself from the author's
+tightly clasping arms. Seriously, it was really very disgraceful
+behaviour of hers. She excused herself with the knowledge that there was
+no audience: save the moon and the sea. After subsidence of her laugh
+she said:
+
+"I have said good-bye for ever to the Chantrelles. They have left Ivy
+Cottage. I shall never see them again----"
+
+"I thought----"
+
+"I loved him?" she interrupted gleefully. "I didn't--I just hated
+him----"
+
+"Yet you----"
+
+"Pretended I did because I wanted to annoy you! There! I wanted to annoy
+you because--I.... Don't, Prince Charlie! You're making me look so
+untidy.... Yes do--I don't mind.... They'll think it was the wind."
+
+Thoughts of other people and of dinner came to them at last. But it was
+half-past seven before they started to walk back home. What they said
+during all the time they were on the seat is a matter of concern to
+themselves only.
+
+Besides which, when people are in love, their conversation is not
+remarkable for originality and general interest. Even authors get out of
+the stirrups--off their high horse--and talk like other people.
+
+She explained to him that she had loved him from the first. He,
+wondering how he could have been blind to the fact, hugged her close
+again. Thereupon, she complained that he hurt her, and then contradicted
+herself; in fact behaved like a true woman.
+
+She confessed why she had not told him she was Mrs. Seton-Carr at first:
+because she was a leader of London fashion, and she knew he hated London
+Society and everything connected therewith. The newspaper people
+chronicled her movements and she was much talked about; she had thought
+he would not fail to recognize her name.
+
+But she need not have feared; he would not have done so. Fashionable
+Intelligence, and all columns captioned in kindred fashion, he never
+read. Had an idea of his own that in the study of mankind his society
+papers were not very suitable textbooks.
+
+It would naturally be supposed that seeing how late it was they would
+have hurried home. Not they! It was nearly eight o'clock when they
+reached Ivy Cottage. Dick was waiting for them.
+
+"This is a pretty idea, upon my soul!" His greeting. "A nice way to
+treat your brother! Dinner has been waiting hours!"
+
+"Never mind, Dick dear," replied his sister, pecking at his lips as she
+removed the pins from her hat. "It doesn't matter, it really doesn't
+matter in the least."
+
+"Doesn't it! It matters to me! Am I supposed to be a fasting man, giving
+a seaside exhibition of myself? There's been no midday meal, because I
+had to bolt whilst you were turning people out of the house neck and
+crop. I did think I was going to get some dinner! I don't even get an
+apology. You're flouncing around grinning all over your face as if you'd
+picked up sixpence. What have you been doing?"
+
+"There--sit down--like a good boy. Here's the soup coming. Now start and
+try to make up for lost time."
+
+She ran to her room and threw off her hat and mantle. Laughed at her
+reflection in the glass--a laugh inspired by sheer happiness. Then she
+crept softly into Gracie's room; the child was not yet asleep, though
+sleepy. Bending over the cot she kissed the little rosy face, and
+Gracie's arms went up and around the neck of her Dear Miss Mivvins.
+
+Mrs. Seton-Carr had not been away from the dining room more than two
+minutes; when she returned to take her place at table mischievous Dick
+was ready waiting for her, said:
+
+"What I want to know is, what the deuce you two have been sitting out on
+that blessed seat all night for? Why couldn't you come in like rational
+beings and sit in chairs and talk?"
+
+"Never you mind, Dick; don't ask questions. Have some more soup?"
+
+"Oh, you can't stop my mouth with soup! I have been kept without food
+for so long that I'm afraid to eat much! I expect it was some of that
+tommy-rot Prince Charlie was always flooding my ears with. About your
+eyes and hair and----"
+
+"Now, Dick," interrupted Masters, "drop that please. It is a forbidden
+subject."
+
+"Is it? I am not to talk about what you said?" He turned to his sister
+and continued: "What have you had to say then, Sis? Been telling him how
+you begged and prayed of me not to let him----"
+
+"Dick! If you don't be quiet, I'll never forgive you!"
+
+"Now, look here." Dick assumed an aggrieved tone. "Am I supposed not to
+talk at all? Is this house run on the silent system? I might just as
+well be having dinner in a deaf and dumb asylum."
+
+"Talk sensibly then," said his sister patronisingly, "and we'll listen
+to you with pleasure."
+
+"We! Oh, it's reached that stage, has it: plural! 'M very well. Let's
+take up a serious subject: horribly serious. Have you lunatics decided
+when your two throbbing hearts are going to be merged into one; when you
+are to be married?"
+
+"Dick! Don't you want--let me pass you some more vegetables!"
+
+"Don't stop his thirst for information," interposed Masters quietly.
+"He's got to be best man, so he may as well know. It is settled that we
+are to be married by special licence on New Year's Day."
+
+"Oh, Prince Charlie!" she cried. "I never said--indeed I didn't----"
+
+"No, dear," he replied calmly. "I know you did not. But you said that
+that woman I made love to on the boat--what was her name?--Amy--pass the
+sauce, Dick--alleged that I said it rested with me, so far as the naming
+of the day was concerned."
+
+"How can you----"
+
+"It occurred to me that that was a capital idea. I am not one of those
+superior persons; am never above taking a hint. I know I have
+had--thanks to you--the most unhappy end of a year. By way of
+compensation I am going--thanks to you again--to have a most happy
+beginning of one."
+
+Dick viewed the consternation displayed on his sister's face to the
+accompaniment of a broad grin on his own, said:
+
+"That's right! Start quarrelling now, even before you are tied up!
+Goodness knows what it will be like after, when you are sentenced to--I
+mean when you are linked for life. Miserable wretches! You have my
+sincerest sympathy; all my pity."
+
+"It takes two to make a quarrel."
+
+Prince Charlie uttering the aphorism. Then with a smile, holding out his
+hand to Mabel, he continued:
+
+"You agree with me, don't you, darling? Just by your action convince
+this beardless youth that we are in accord about the first of
+January--if we are to be married on that day, put your hand in mine."
+
+She hesitated a moment, perhaps her brother's derisive laugh helped to
+her action: she put it right there.
+
+"There's one thing about this affair--having long been an acute sufferer
+from my headstrong sister's temper," said Dick, grinning all over his
+face--"about which I am distinctly displeased."
+
+"You are going to make one of your terrible jokes, Dick!" she said. "I
+can see it in your face!"
+
+"Oh, let him run loose," interposed Masters. "It's Christmas time, you
+know. What's the joke? If it's going to give us pain, out with it--as
+the boy said to the dentist."
+
+"If you labour over one of your usual atrocious puns, Dick," warned his
+sister, "I'll throw you down and pummel you black and blue!"
+
+"I was merely going to observe," said her brother, regardless of the
+threat, "that I was glad that at length you had found your master!"
+
+He had to howl for mercy before she let him go.
+
+
+
+
+                                 CHAPTER XXXVI
+
+                               THE CHRISTMAS BOX
+
+
+Gracie had to be reckoned with. Prince Charlie was looked on as her
+exclusive property. Considerable diplomacy and tact would have to be
+brought to bear; that exacting atom of humanity needed careful handling.
+
+Uncle Dick, with a thoughtfulness which earned from his sister and
+prospective brother-in-law grateful thanks, went out, late as it was,
+and routed round the few shops of which Wivernsea boasted. The shops
+were full of people and empty of wares. By diligent search he ran to
+earth in a grocer's shop a box of crackers, packed by Tom Smith, as he
+needed to find it packed: labelled Pantomime. He thought that would
+answer the purpose of conciliating his niece.
+
+He was not disappointed. On the morrow, with a harlequin's cap and mask,
+a wand, and conjured up recollections of last year's pantomime all went
+well. Promise of a visit that week to another pantomime completed the
+matter. There was no breach.
+
+Gracie gave up all rights in Prince Charlie. Indeed, viewed his changing
+into the character of a new papa with curious equanimity. Curious, that
+is to say, to any one ignorant of her knowledge of the doings of
+fairies. The literature upon which she fed was of the divided syllable
+type. A story without a fairy in it was beneath her contempt.
+
+So it was that on Christmas morning she viewed the matter complacently.
+Having disposed of Prince Charlie to her mother, she gave him Miss
+Mivvins as a Christmas box. Borrowed his fountain pen, and in a large
+round hand wrote:
+
+"_With best wishes for a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year._"
+
+Dancing up to, and putting this into Miss Mivvins' hand, she gracefully
+led that lady to her former prince; was rejoiced when she saw how glad
+he was to accept her gift!
+
+And the wish was realized too: their Christmas was of the merriest.
+Gracie said she had never spent so happy a one in all the years of her
+life; was of opinion that the harlequin had been at work with Uncle
+Dick; he was so different from what he used to be.
+
+Uncle Dick was, and he knew it. Looked back at his past with eyes full
+of horror, at his prospective brother-in-law with love in them, because
+he felt, knew, to whom his reformation was due.
+
+Gracie's other wish was granted: the new year was a happy one. It
+commenced with the actual transformation of Prince Charlie into Gracie's
+new papa. The child said she had never made a change which pleased her
+so much.
+
+As Gracie wisely observed, it was not now a matter of occasional calls,
+he was always there. So much better, wasn't it? She really thought they
+had all been quite foolish not to think of arranging it so before.
+
+As to Uncle Dick--well, as Gracie said, he was changed. And it was a
+permanent change, too; he feared no relapse. Just sometimes the memory
+of the old evil times would return, and a suspicious moisture come into
+his eyes. He could not help thinking of what might have been, and what
+was. Thanked God from his heart for his present condition.
+
+As to Miss Mivvins--well, of course she no longer exists. She merged
+into Mrs. Masters on the first day of the new year.
+
+Another change which had Gracie's full approval.
+
+
+                                    THE END.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber Notes:
+
+Passages in italics were indicated by _underscores_.
+
+Small caps were replaced with ALL CAPS.
+
+Throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of
+the speakers. Those words were retained as-is.
+
+The illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up
+paragraphs and so that they are next to the text they illustrate. Thus
+the page number of the illustration might not match the page number in
+the List of Illustrations, and the order of illustrations may not be the
+same in the List of Illustrations and in the book.
+
+Errors in punctuations and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected
+unless otherwise noted.
+
+On page 15, a single quotation mark was replaced with a double quotation
+mark.
+
+On page 85, "thet" was replaced with "that".
+
+On page 86, a period was added after "face".
+
+On page 125, "overspead" was replaced with "overspread".
+
+On page 132, a period was added after "husband".
+
+On page 163, "convalesence" was replaced with "convalescence".
+
+On page 179, a single quotation mark was replaced with a double
+quotation mark.
+
+On page 189, a period was added after "morrow".
+
+On page 193, a double quotation mark was added after "getting well.".
+
+On page 205, "protègè" was replaced with "protégé".
+
+On page 207, a single quotation mark was deleted before a double
+quotation mark.
+
+On page 227, a single quotation mark was replaced with a double
+quotation mark.
+
+On page 257, a period was replaced with a question mark.
+
+On page 264, a single quotation mark was deleted before a double
+quotation mark.
+
+On page 296, a period was added after "fashion words".
+
+On page 304, a hyphen was added before "r-retched dinner".
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Prince Charlie, by Burford Delannoy
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40611 ***