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diff --git a/40611-8.txt b/40611-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1939adb..0000000 --- a/40611-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8599 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Prince Charlie, by Burford Delannoy - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Prince Charlie - -Author: Burford Delannoy - -Release Date: August 30, 2012 [EBook #40611] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRINCE CHARLIE *** - - - - -Produced by Suzanne Shell, Ernest Schaal, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - [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 THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRINCE CHARLIE *** - -***** This file should be named 40611-8.txt or 40611-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/6/1/40611/ - -Produced by Suzanne Shell, Ernest Schaal, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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