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diff --git a/42729.txt b/42729.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 418f68b..0000000 --- a/42729.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6355 +0,0 @@ - STAND FAST, CRAIG-ROYSTON! (VOLUME I) - - - - -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 http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: Stand Fast, Craig-Royston! (Volume I) -Author: William Black -Release Date: May 17, 2013 [EBook #42729] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAND FAST, CRAIG-ROYSTON! -(VOLUME I) *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - STAND FAST, CRAIG-ROYSTON! - - A Novel - - - BY - - WILLIAM BLACK, - - AUTHOR OF - "A DAUGHTER OF HETH," "MACLEOD OF DARE," ETC. - - - - _IN THREE VOLUMES._ - VOL. I. - - - - LONDON: - SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTON, LIMITED - St. Dunstan's House - FETTER LANE, FLEET STREET, E.C. - 1890. - - [_All rights reserved._] - - - - - LONDON: - PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, - STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS. - - - - - CONTENTS OF VOL. I. - -CHAPTER - - I. The Wanderers - II. Neighbours - III. An Approach - IV. Stalled Ox and a Dinner of Herbs - V. Qu' mon Coeur en Mariage - VI. Fairy Land - VII. Claire Fontaine - VIII. An Alarm - - - - - STAND FAST, CRAIG-ROYSTON! - - - - CHAPTER I. - - THE WANDERERS. - - -On a certain sunny afternoon in May, when all the world and his wife -were walking or driving in Piccadilly, two figures appeared there who -clearly did not belong to the fashionable crowd. Indeed, so unusual was -their aspect that many a swift glance, shot from carefully impassive -faces, made furtive scrutiny of them as they passed. One of the -strangers was an old man who might have been a venerable Scandinavian -scald come to life again--a man thick-set and broad-shouldered, with -features at once aquiline and massive, and with flowing hair and beard -almost silver-white. From under his deeply lined forehead and shaggy -eyebrows gleamed a pair of eyes that were alert and confident as with -the audacity of youth; and the heavy white moustache and beard did not -quite conceal the cheerful firmness of the mouth. For the rest, he wore -above his ordinary attire a plaid of shepherd's tartan, the ends loosely -thrown over his shoulders. - -By his side there walked a young girl of about seventeen, whose -singular, if somewhat pensive and delicate beauty, could not but have -struck any passer-by who happened to catch sight of her. But she rarely -raised her eyes from the pavement. What was obvious to every one was, -first of all, the elegance of her walk--which was merely the natural -expression of a perfectly moulded form; and then the glory of her hair, -which hung free and unrestrained down her back, and no doubt added to -the youthfulness of her look. As to the colour of those splendid -masses--well, it was neither flaxen, nor golden, nor brown, nor -golden-brown, but apparently a mixture of all these shades, altering in -tone here and there according to sunshine or shadow, but always showing -a soft and graduated sheen rather than any definite lustre. Her face, -as has been said, was mostly downcast; and one could only see that the -refined and sensitive features were pale; also that there was a touch of -sun-tan over her complexion, that spoke of travel. But when, by -inadvertence, or by some forced overcoming of her native diffidence, she -did raise her eyes, there flashed a revelation upon the world; for these -blue-grey deeps seemed to hold light; a mild-shining light, timid, -mysterious, appealing almost; the unconsciousness of childhood no longer -there, the self-possession of womanhood not yet come: then those -beautiful, limpid, pathetic eyes, thus tremblingly glancing out for a -second, would be withdrawn, and again the dark lashes would veil the -mystic, deep-shining wells. This was Maisrie Bethune; the old man -beside her was her grandfather. - -The young girl seemed rather to linger behind as her companion went up -the steps towards a certain door and rang the bell; and her eyes were -still downcast as she followed him across the hall and into an -ante-room. When the footman came back with the message that his -lordship was disengaged and would see Mr. Bethune, and when he was about -to show the way upstairs, the girl hung back, and said, with almost a -piteous look-- - -"I will stay here, grandfather." - -"Not at all," the old man answered, impatiently. "Not at all. Come -along!" - -There were two persons in this large and lofty room on the first floor; -but just as the visitors arrived at the landing, one of these withdrew -and went and stood at a front window, where he could look down into the -street. The other--a youngish-looking man, with clear eyes and a -pleasant smile--remained to receive his guests; and if he could not help -a little glance of surprise--perhaps at the unusual costume of his chief -visitor, or perhaps because he had not expected the young lady--there -was at all events nothing but good-nature in his face. - -"My granddaughter, Maisrie, Lord Musselburgh," the old man said, by way -of introduction, or explanation. - -The young nobleman begged her to be seated; she merely thanked him, and -moved away a little distance, to a table on which were some illustrated -books; so that the two men were left free to talk as they chose. - -"Well now, that seems a very admirable project of yours, Mr. Bethune," -Lord Musselburgh said, in his frank and off-hand way. "There's plenty -of Scotch blood in my own veins, as you know; and I am glad of any good -turn that can be done to poor old Scotland. I see you are not ashamed -of the national garb." - -"You remember what was said on a famous occasion," the old man made -answer, speaking methodically and emphatically, and with a strong -northern accent, "and I will own that I hoped your lordship's heart -would 'warm to the tartan.' For it is a considerable undertaking, after -all. The men are scattered; and their verses are scattered; but, -scattered or no scattered, there is everywhere and always in them the -same sentiment--the sentiment of loyalty and gratitude and admiration -for the land of the hills and the glens. And surely, as your lordship -says, it is doing a good turn to poor old Scotland to show the world -that wherever her sons may be--in Canada, in Florida, out on the plains, -or along the Californian coast--they do not forget the mother that bore -them--no, but that they are proud of her, and think always of her, and -regard her with an undying affection and devotion." - -He was warming to his work. There was a vibration in his voice, as he -proceeded to repeat the lines-- - - "From the lone shieling on the misty island, - Mountains divide them and a world of seas; - But still their hearts are true, their hearts are Highland, - And they in dreams behold the Hebrides." - - -"Is that by one of your Scotch-American friends?" Lord Musselburgh -asked, with a smile; for he was looking curiously, and not without a -certain sympathetic interest, at this old man. - -"I do not know, your lordship; at the moment I could not tell you," was -the answer. "But this I do know, that a man may be none the less a good -Canadian or American citizen because of his love for the heather hills -that nourished his infancy, and inspired his earliest imagination. He -does not complain of the country that has given him shelter, nor of the -people who have welcomed him and made him one of themselves. He only -says with Crichton's emigrant shepherd-- - - "'Wae's me that fate us twa has twined' - ---'twined' is severed: perhaps your lordship is not so familiar with the -dialect-- - - "'Wae's me that fate us twa has twined; - And I serve strangers ower the sea; - Their hearts are leal, their words are kind, - But, lass, it isna hame to me!' - -Good men they are and true," he went on, in the same exalted strain; -"valued and respected citizens--none more so; but cut their hearts open, -and you will find _Scotland_ written in every fibre. It is through no -ingratitude to their adopted country that a spray of white heather, a -few bluebells, a gowan or two, anything sent across the seas to them to -remind them of the land of their birth, will bring hot tears to their -eyes. As one of them has written-- - - 'What memories dear of that cot ye recall, - Though now there remains neither rooftree nor wall! - Alack-a-day! lintel and threshold are gone, - While cold 'neath the weeds lies the hallowed hearthstone! - 'Twas a straw-roofed cottage, but love abode there, - And peace and contentment aye breathed in its air; - With songs from the mother, and legends from sire, - How blithe were we all round the cheery peat-fire! - --Caledonia's blue-bells, O bonnie blue-bells!'" - - -"You have an excellent memory," Lord Musselburgh said, good-naturedly. -"Those patriotic effusions seem to have impressed you." - -"That was written by the Bard of Amulree, your lordship," continued the -garrulous old man; "and a truer Scotchman does not breathe, though -America has been his home nearly all his life. And there is many -another, both in Canada and the United States. They may be in happier -circumstances than they would have been in the old country; they may -have plenty of friends around them: but still their hearts turn back to - - 'Where I've watched the gloamin' close - The long bright summer days; - And doubted not that fairies dwelt - On Cathkin's bonnie braes; - Auld Ruglin Brig and Cathkin braes - And Clyde's meandering streams, - Ye shall be subject of my lays - As ye are of my dreams.' - -Nor are they ashamed of their Scottish way of speech--ye may observe, my -lord, that I've kept a twang of it myself, even among all my wanderings; -and loth would I be to lose it. But I'm wearying your lordship," the -old man said, in a suddenly altered tone. "I would just say that a -collection of what the Scotch poets in America have written ought to be -interesting to Scotchmen everywhere, and perhaps to others as well; for -patriotism is a virtue that commands respect. I beg your pardon for -encroaching on your lordship's time----" - -"Oh, that's nothing," Lord Musselburgh said, easily; "but we must not -keep the young lady waiting." He glanced in the direction of the girl -who was standing by the table. She was turning over the leaves of a -book. Then he resumed the conversation--but in a much lower key. - -"I quite understand, Mr. Bethune," he said, so that she should not -overhear, "what you wrote to me--that the bringing out of such a volume -will require time, and expense. And--and you must allow me to join in, -in the only way I can. Now what sum----?" - -He hesitated. Mr. Bethune said-- - -"Whatever your lordship pleases." - -The young man went into the front portion of the long apartment (where -his friend was still discreetly standing behind the window curtains) and -opened a despatch-box and sat down. He drew out a cheque for L50, -enclosed it in an envelope, and, coming back, slipped it into the old -man's hands. - -"I hope that will help; and I shall be glad to hear of the progress of -the work." - -"I thank your lordship," Mr. Bethune said, without any obsequiousness, -or profusion of gratitude. - -And then he turned to his granddaughter. - -"Maisrie!" - -The girl came away at once. She bowed to Lord Musselburgh in passing, -without lifting her eyes. He, however, put out his hand, and said -"Good-bye!" Nay, more than that, although he had previously rang the -bell, he accompanied them both downstairs, and stood at the door while a -four-wheeled cab was being called for them. Then, when they had left, he -returned to the room above, and called lightly to his friend who was -still standing at the window: - -"Ready, Vin? Come along, then! Did you hear the old man and his -poetry?--a harmless old maniac, I think. Well, let's be off to -Victoria; we'll get down to the Bungalow in time for a good hour's -lawn-tennis before dinner." - -Meanwhile old George Bethune and his granddaughter were being driven -away eastward in the cab; and he was chatting gaily to her, with the air -of one who had been successful in some enterprise. He had doffed his -Scotch plaid; and, what is more, he had also abandoned the Scotch accent -in which he had addressed 'his loardship.' It was to be a great book, -this collection of Scotch-American poetry. It would enable him to pay a -well-deserved compliment to many an old friend of his in Toronto, in -Montreal, in New York. He was warm in his praises of this young Lord -Musselburgh; and predicted a great future for him. Then he put his head -out of the window and bade the driver stop--opposite the door of a -wine-merchant's office. - -"Grandfather," said the girl, "may I wait for you in the cab?" - -"Certainly not," he answered with decision. "I wish you to see men and -things as part of your education. Live and learn, Maisrie--every moment -of your life." - -Leaving the Scotch plaid in the cab, he crossed the pavement and went -into the office, she meekly following. The wine-merchant was sent for, -and presently he made his appearance. - -"Good afternoon, Mr. Glover," old George Bethune said, with something of -an air of quiet patronage, "I wish to order some claret from you." - -The tall, bald, bland-looking person whom he addressed did not seem to -receive this news with any joy; but the young lady was there, and he was -bound to be courteous; so he asked Mr. Bethune to be kind enough to step -into the back-premises where he could put some samples before him. -Maisrie was for remaining where she stood; but her grandfather bade her -come along; so she also went with them into the back portion of the -establishment, where she was accommodated with a chair. At this table -there were no illustrated books to which she could turn; there were only -bottles, glasses, corkscrews, and a plateful of wine-biscuits; so that -she kept her eyes fixed on the floor--and was forced to listen. - -"Claret, Mr. Glover," said the old man, with a certain sententiousness -and assumption of importance that he had not displayed in speaking to -Lord Musselburgh, "claret was in former days the national drink of -Scotland--owing to the close alliance with France, as you know--and the -old Scotch families naturally preserve the tradition. So that you can -hardly wonder if to one of the name of Bethune a sound claret is -scarcely so much a luxury as a necessity. Why, sir, my ancestor, -Maximilien de Bethune, duc de Sully, had the finest vineyards in the -whole of France; and it was his privilege to furnish the royal -table----" - -"I hope he got paid," the bland wine-merchant said, with a bit of a -laugh; but happening to glance towards the young girl sitting there, and -perceiving that the pale and beautiful face had suddenly grown -surcharged with colour, he, instantly, and with the greatest -embarrassment, proceeded to stumble on-- - -"Oh, yes, of course," he said, hastily: "a great honour--naturally--the -royal table--a great honour indeed--I quite understand--the duc de -Sully, did you say?--oh, yes--a great statesman----" - -"The greatest financier France has ever possessed," the old man said, -grandly. "Though he was by profession a soldier, when he came to tackle -the finances of the country, he paid off two hundred millions of -livres--the whole of the king's debts, in fact--and filled the royal -treasury. It is something to bear his name, surely; I confess I am -proud of it; but our family goes far further back than the duc de Sully -and the sixteenth century. Why, sir," he continued, in his stately -manner, "when the royal Stewarts were known only by their -office--_Dapifer_ or _Seneschallus_ they were called--the Beatons and -Bethunes could boast of their territorial designation. In 1434, when -Magister John Seneschallus, Provost of Methven, was appointed one of the -Lords Auditors, it was Alexander de Beaton who administered the oath to -him--the same Alexander de Beaton who, some two years thereafter, -accompanied Margaret of Scotland to France, on her marriage with the -Dauphin. Yes, sir, I confess I am proud to bear the name; and perhaps -it is the more excusable that it is about the last of our possessions -they have left us. Balloray----" He paused for a second. "Do you see -that child?" he said, pointing with a trembling forefinger to his -granddaughter. "If there were any right or justice, there sits the -heiress of Balloray." - -"It was a famous lawsuit in its time," the wine-merchant observed--but -not looking in Maisrie's direction. - -"It killed my father, and made me a wanderer on the face of the earth," -the old man said; and then he raised his head bravely. "Well, no -matter; they cannot rob me of my name; and I am Bethune of -Balloray--whoever has the wide lands." - -Now perhaps there still dwelt in the breast of the suave-looking -wine-merchant some remorse of conscience over the remark that had caused -this pale and sensitive-looking young creature to flush with conscious -shame; at all events he had quite abandoned the somewhat grudging -coldness with which he had first received his customer; and when various -samples of claret had been brought from the cellar and placed on the -table, it was the more expensive that he frankly and fully recommended. -Nay, he was almost pressing. And again he called to his assistant, and -bade him fetch a particular bottle of champagne; and when that was -opened, he himself poured out a glass and offered it to the young lady, -with a biscuit or two, and seemed concerned and distressed when she -thanked him and declined. The end of this interview was that old George -Bethune ordered a considerable quantity of claret; and carried away with -him, for immediate use, a case of twelve bottles, which was put into the -four-wheeled cab. - -Park Street, Mayfair, occupies a prominent position in the fashionable -quarter of London; but from it, at intervals, run one or two smaller -thoroughfares--sometimes ending in stables--the dwellings in which are -of a quite modest and unpretentious appearance. It was to one of these -smaller thoroughfares that George Bethune and his granddaughter now -drove; and when they had entered the quiet little house, and ascended to -the first floor, they found that dinner was laid on the table, for the -evening was now well advanced. When they were ready, the frugal banquet -was also ready; and the old man, seated at the head of the table, with -Maisrie on his right, soon grew eloquent about the virtues of the bottle -of claret which he had just opened. The girl--who did not take any -wine--seemed hardly to hear. She was more thoughtful even than -usual--perhaps, indeed, there was a trace of sadness in the delicate, -pensive features. When the fresh-coloured servant-lass brought in the -things, and happened to remain in the room for a second or two, Maisrie -made some pretence of answering her grandfather; then, when they were -left alone again, she relapsed into silence, and let him ramble on as he -pleased. And he was in a satisfied and garrulous mood. The evening was -fine and warm--the window behind them they had left open. He approved -of the lodging-house cookery; he emphatically praised the claret, with -the conviction of one who knew. Dinner, in fact, was half way over -before the girl, looking up with her beautiful, clear, limpid -eyes--beautiful although they were so strangely wistful--ventured to say -anything. - -"Grandfather," she asked, with obvious hesitation, "did--did Lord -Musselburgh--give you--something towards the publication of that book?" - -"Why, yes, yes, yes, certainly," the old man said, with much -cheerfulness. "Certainly. Something substantial too. Why not?" - -The hot blood was in her face again--and her eyes downcast. - -"Grandfather," she said, in the same low voice, "when will you set about -writing the book?" - -"Ah, well," he made answer, evasively, but with perfect good humour, "it -is a matter to be thought over. Indeed, I heard in New York of a -similar volume being got together; but I may be first in the field after -all. There is no immediate hurry. A thing of that kind must be thought -over and considered. And indeed, my dear, I cannot go back to America -at present; for my first and foremost intention is that you should begin -to learn something of your native country. You must become familiar -with the hills and the moorlands, with the roaring mountain-torrents, -and the lonely islands amid the grey seas. For of what account is the -accident of your birth? Omaha cannot claim you. There is Scotch blood -in your veins, Maisrie--the oldest in the land; and you must see -Dunfermline town, where the King sate 'drinking the blood-red wine'; and -you must see Stirling Castle, and Edinburgh, and Holyrood, and Melrose -Abbey. Nebraska has no claim over you--you, a Bethune of Balloray. And -you have some Highland blood in your veins too, my dear; for if the -Grants who intermarried with the Bethunes were not of the northern -Grants whose proud motto is 'Stand fast, Craigellachie!' none the less -is Craig-Royston wild and Highland enough, as I hope to show you some -day. And Lowland or Highland, Maisrie, you must wear the snood when you -go north; a young Scotch lass should wear the snood; yes, yes, the bit -of blue ribbon will look well in your hair. Melrose," he rambled on, as -he filled his glass again, "and Maxwellton Braes; Yarrow's Banks; and -fair Kirkconnel Lea: a storied country: romance, pathos, tragic and -deathless music conjured up at every footstep. Instead of the St. -Lawrence, you shall have the murmur of the Tweed: instead of -Brooklyn--the song-haunted shores of Colonsay! But there is one place -that with my will you shall never visit--no, not while there are -strangers and aliens there. You may wander all over Scotland--north, -south, east, and west--but never, never while I am alive, must you ask -to see 'the bonny mill-dams o' Balloray.'" - -She knew what he meant; she did not speak. But presently--perhaps to -draw away his thoughts from that terrible law-suit which had had such -disastrous consequences for him and his--she said-- - -"I hope, grandfather, you won't think of remaining in this country on my -account. Perhaps it is better to read about those beautiful places, and -to dream about them, than to see them--you remember 'Yarrow Unvisited.' -And indeed, grandfather, if you are collecting materials for that book, -why should we not go back at once? It would be dreadful if--if--the -other volume were to come out first--and you indebted to Lord -Musselburgh, or any one else; but if yours were written and -published--if you could show them you had done what you undertook to do, -then it would be all perfectly right. For you know, grandfather," she -continued, in a gently persuasive and winning voice, "no one could do it -as well as you! Who else has such a knowledge of Scotland and Scottish -literature, or such a sympathy with Scottish music and poetry? And then -your personal acquaintance with many of those writers--who used to -welcome you as one of themselves--who else could have that? You could -do it better than any one, grandfather; and you have always said you -would like to do something for the sake of Scotland; and here is the -very thing ready to your hand. Some other time, grandfather," she -pleaded, with those beautiful clear eyes turned beseechingly upon him, -"some other time you will take me to all those beautiful places. It is -not as if I had come back home; I have hardly ever had a home anywhere; -I am as well content in Montreal or Toronto as anywhere else. And then -you could get all the assistance you might need over there--you could go -to your various friends in the newspaper offices, and they would give -you information." - -"Yes, yes; well, well," he said, peevishly; "I am not a literary hack, -to be driven, Maisrie. I must have my own time. I made no promise. -There, now, get me my pipe; and bring your violin; and play some of -those Scotch airs. Yes, yes; you can get at the feeling of them; and -that comes to you through your blood, Maisrie--no matter where you -happen to be born." - -Twilight had fallen. At the open window, with a long clay pipe, as yet -unlit, in his fingers, old George Bethune sate and stared out into the -semi-darkness, where all was quiet now, for the carriages from the -neighbouring mews had long ago been driven away to dinner-parties and -operas and theatres. And in the silence, in the dusky part of the room, -there arose a low sound, a tender-breathing sound of most exquisite -pathos, that seemed to say, as well as any instrument might say-- - - "I'm wearin' awa', Jean, - Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, Jean, - I'm wearin' awa', - To the land o' the leal; - There's nae sorrow there, Jean, - There's neither cauld nor care, Jean, - The day's aye fair - In the land o' the leal." - - -Most tenderly she played, and slowly; and with an absolute simplicity of -tone. - -"There's Scotch blood in your veins, Maisrie--Scotch blood," he said, -approvingly, as the low-vibrating notes ceased. - -And then again in the darkness another plaintive wail arose--it was the -Flowers o' the Forest this time--and here the old man joined in, singing -in a sort of undertone, and with a sufficiently sympathetic voice: - - "I've heard the liltin' at our yowe-milkin', - Lasses a-liltin, before the dawn o' day; - But now there's a moanin' on ilka green loanin'; - The Flowers o' the Forest are a' wede away. - - * * * * * - - "We hear nae mair liltin' at our yowe-milkin', - Women and bairns are dowie and wae; - Sighin' and moanin', on ilka green loanin'-- - The Flowers o' the Forest are a' wede away." - - -"Yes, yes," he said, as he rose and came away from the window, "it is -the Scotch blood that tingles, it is the Scotch heart that throbs. -'Yestreen, when to the trembling strings, the dance gaed through the -lichted ha'----' Who but a Scotchman could have written that? Well, -now, Maisrie, we'll have the gas; and you can get out the spirits; and -we'll try some of the livelier airs. There's plenty of them, too, as -befits a daring and energetic people--a nation of fighters. They were -not always bewailing their losses in the field." And therewith the old -man, pacing up and down before the empty fire-place, began to sing, with -upright head and gallant voice-- - - "London's bonnie woods and braes, - I maun leave them a', lassie; - Wha can thole when Britain's faes - Would gie Briton law, lassie? - Wha would shun the field o' danger? - Wha to fame would live a stranger? - Now when freedom bids avenge her, - Wha would shun her ca', lassie?" - - -Maisrie Bethune had laid aside her violin; but she did not light the -gas. She stood there, in the semi-darkness, in the middle of the room, -timidly regarding her grandfather, and yet apparently afraid to speak. -At last she managed to say-- - -"Grandfather--you will not be angry--?" - -"What's this, now?" he said, wheeling round and staring at her, for the -peculiarity of her tone had caught his ear. - -"Grandfather," she continued, in almost piteous embarrassment. "I--I -wish to say something to you--I have been thinking about it for a long -while back--and yet afraid you mightn't understand--you might be -angry--" - -"Well, well, what is it?" he said, impatiently. "What are you -dissatisfied with? I don't see that you've much to complain of, or I -either. We don't live a life of grandeur; nor is there much excitement -about it; but it is fairly comfortable. I consider we are very well -off." - -"We are too well off, grandfather," she said, sadly. - -He started at this, and stared at her again. - -"What do you mean?" - -"Grandfather," she said, in the same pathetic voice, "don't you see that -I am no longer a child? I am a woman. And I am doing nothing. Why did -you give me so careful an education if I am not to use it? I wish to -earn something--I--I wish to keep you and me, grandfather--" - -The stammering sentences ceased: he replied slowly, and perhaps a trifle -coldly. - -"Why did I have you carefully educated? Well, I should have thought you -might have guessed--might have understood. But I will tell you. I have -given you what education was possible in our circumstances in order to -fit you for the station which some day you may be called upon to fill. -And if not, if it is fated that injustice and iniquity are to be in our -case perpetual, at all events you must be worthy of the name you bear. -But it was not as an implement of trade," he continued, more warmly, -"that I gave you such education as was possible in our wandering lives. -What do you want to do? Teach music? And you would use your trained -hand and ear--and your trained soul, which is of more importance -still--to drum mechanical rudiments into the brats of some bourgeois -household? A fit employment for a Bethune of Balloray!" - -She seemed bewildered--and agonised. - -"Grandfather, I must speak! I must speak! You may be angry or -not--but--but I am no longer a child--I can see how we are -situated--and--and if it is pride that causes me to speak, remember who -it is that has taught me to think of our name. Grandfather, let us begin -a new life! I can work--I am old enough to work--I would slave my -fingers to the bone for you! Grandfather, why should you accept -assistance from any one?--from Lord Musselburgh or any one? No, I do -not blame you--I have always thought that everything you did was -right--and kind and good; but I cannot be a child any longer--I must say -what I think and feel. Grandfather----" - -But here the incoherent appeal broke down; she fell on her knees before -him, and clasped her hands over her face; and in the dark the old -man--stern and immovable--could hear the sound of her violent sobbing. - -"I will work--oh, I will work night and day, grandfather," she -continued, wildly, "if only you will take my money and not from any one -else! I will go on the stage--I will turn dressmaker--I will go -anywhere or do anything--and work hard and hard--if only you will -consent! There would not be so much sacrifice, grandfather--a little, -not much--and don't you think we should be all the happier? I have -spoken at last, grandfather--you will forgive me! I could not keep -silent any longer. It has been weighing on my heart--and now--now you -are going to say yes, grandfather--and to-morrow--to-morrow we begin -differently. We are so much alone--let us live for each other--let us be -independent of every one! Now you are going to say yes, -grandfather--and indeed, indeed I will work for both of us, oh, so -gladly!----" - -"Have you finished?" he asked. - -She rose, and would have seized his hand to enforce her appeal, but he -withdrew a step, and motioned her to be seated. - -"I am glad of this opportunity," he said, in a formal and measured -fashion. "You say you have become a woman; and it is natural you should -begin and think for yourself; hitherto I have treated you as a child, -and you have obeyed and believed implicitly. As for your immediate -wish, I may say at once that is impossible. There is no kind of work -for which you are fitted--even if I were prepared to live on your -earnings, which I am not. The stage? What could you do on the stage! -Do you think an actress is made at a moment's notice? Or a dress-maker -either? How could you turn dressmaker to-morrow?--because you can hem -handkerchiefs? And as for making use of your education, do you know of -the thousands of girls whose French and Italian and music are as good as -yours, and who can barely gain their food by teaching?----" - -He altered his tone; and spoke more proudly. - -"But what I say is this, that you do not understand, you have not yet -understood, my position. When George Bethune condescends to accept -assistance, as you call it, he receives no favour, he confers an honour. -I know my rights, and stand on them; yes, and I know my wrongs--and how -trifling the compensations ever likely to be set against them. You spoke -of Lord Musselburgh; but Lord Musselburgh--a mushroom peer--the -representative of a family dragged from nothingness by James VI.--Lord -Musselburgh knew better than you--well he knew--that he was honouring -himself in receiving into his house a Bethune of Balloray. And as for -his granting me assistance, that was his privilege, his opportunity, his -duty. Should not I have done the like, and gladly, if our positions had -been reversed? _Noblesse oblige_. I belong to his order--and to a -family older by centuries than his. If there was a favour conferred -to-day at Musselburgh House, it was not on my shoulders that it fell." - -He spoke haughtily, and yet without anger; and there was a ring of -sincerity in his tones that could not be mistaken. The girl sate silent -and abashed. - -"No," said he, in the same proud fashion; "during all my troubles, and -they have been more numerous than you know or need ever know, I have -never cowered, or whimpered, or abased myself before any living being. -I have held my head up. My conscience is clear towards all men. 'Stand -fast, Craig-Royston!' it has been with me--and shall be!" - -He went to the window and shut it. - -"Come, light the gas, Maisrie; and let us talk about something else. -What I say is this, that if anyone, recognising the injustice that I and -mine have suffered, should feel it due to himself, due to humanity, to -make some little reparation, why, that is as between man and man--that -ought to be considered his privilege; and I take no shame. I ask for no -compassion. The years that I can hope for now must be few; but they -shall be as those that have gone before. I abase myself before no one. -I hold my head erect. I look the world in the face; and ask which of us -has the greater cause to complain of the other. 'Stand fast, -Craig-Royston!'--that has been my motto; and so, thank God, it shall be -to the end!" - -Maisrie lit the gas, and attended to her grandfather's other wants--in a -mechanical sort of way. But she did not take up the violin again. There -was a strangely absent look on the pale and beautiful and pensive face. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - - NEIGHBOURS. - - -The young man whom Lord Musselburgh had hailed came into the middle of -the room. He was a handsome and well-made young fellow of about three -or four-and-twenty, with finely-cut and intelligent features, and clear -grey eyes that had a curiously straightforward and uncompromising look -in them, albeit his manner was modest enough. At the present moment, -however, he seemed somewhat perturbed. - -"Who were those two?" he said, quickly. - -"Didn't you listen while the old gentleman was declaiming away?" Lord -Musselburgh made answer. "An enthusiastic Scot, if ever there was one! -I suppose you never heard of the great Bethune lawsuit?" - -"But the other--the girl?" - -"His granddaughter, I think he said." - -"She is the most beautiful human creature I ever beheld!" the young man -exclaimed, rather breathlessly. - -His friend looked at him--and laughed. - -"That's not like you, Vin. Take care. The Hope of the Liberal Party -enmeshed at four-and-twenty--that wouldn't do! Pretty--oh, yes, she was -pretty enough, but shy: I hardly saw anything of her. I dare say her -pretty face will have to be her fortune; I suspect the poor old -gentleman is not overburdened with worldly possessions. He has his -name, however; he seems proud enough of that; and I shouldn't wonder if -it had made friends for him abroad. They seem to have travelled a good -deal." - -While he was speaking his companion had mechanically lifted from the -table the card which old George Bethune had sent up. The address in -Mayfair was pencilled on it. And mechanically the young man laid down -the card again. - -"Well, come along, Vin--let's get to Victoria." - -"No, if you don't mind, Musselburgh," said the other, with downcast -eyes, and something of embarrassment, "I would rather--not go down to -the Bungalow to-night. Some other time--it is so good of you to be -always asking me down----" - -"My dear fellow," the young nobleman said, looking at his friend -curiously, "what is the matter with you? Are you in a dream? Are you -asleep? Haven't I told you that ---- is coming down by a late train -to-night; and isn't all the world envying you that the great man should -make such a protege and favourite of you? Indeed you must come down; -you can't afford to lose such a chance. We will sit up for him; and -you'll talk to him during supper; and you'll listen to him for hours -after if he is in the humour for monologues. Then to-morrow morning -you'll take him away bird's-nesting--he is as eager for any new -diversion as a school-boy; and you'll have him all to yourself; and one -of these days, before you know where you are, he'll hand you a Junior -Lordship. Or is it the Under-Secretaryship at the Home Office you're -waiting for? You know, we're all anxious to see how the new experiment -will come off. The young man unspoiled by Oxford or -Cambridge--untainted by landlord sentiment--trained for public life on -first principles: one wants to see how all this will work in practice. -And we never dictate--oh, no, we never dictate to the constituencies; -but when the public notice from time to time in the newspapers that Mr. -Vincent Harris was included in ----'s dinner-party on the previous -evening, then they think; and perhaps they wonder when that lucky young -gentleman is going to take his seat in the House of Commons. So really, -my dear Vin, you can't afford to throw away this chance of having ---- -all to yourself. I suppose he quite understands that you are not -infected with any of your father's Socialistic theories? Of course it's -all very well for an enormously rich man like your father to play with -Communism--it must be an exciting sort of amusement--like stroking a -tiger's tail, and wondering what will happen in consequence; but you -must keep clear of that kind of thing, my boy. Now, come along----" - -"Oh, thank you, Musselburgh," the young man said, in the same -embarrassed fashion, "but if you'll excuse me--I'd rather stay in town -to-night." - -"Oh, very well," the other said, good-naturedly, "I shall be up in a day -or two again. By the way, the Four-in-Hand Club turns out on Saturday. -Shall I give you a lift--and we'll go down to Hurlingham for the polo? -Mrs. Ellison is coming." - -"Oh, thanks--awfully good of you--I shall be delighted," the young man -murmured; and a few seconds thereafter the two friends had separated, -Lord Musselburgh driving off in a hansom to Victoria-station. - -This young Vincent Harris who now walked away along Piccadilly towards -Hyde Park was in a sort of waking trance. He saw nothing of the people -passing by him, nor of the carriages, nor of the crowd assembled at the -corner of the Row, expecting the Princess. He saw a pale and pathetic -face, a dimly-outlined figure standing by a table, a chastened splendour -of girlish hair, an attitude of meekness and diffidence. Once only had -he caught a glimpse of the beautiful, clear, blue-grey eyes--when she -came in at the door, looking startled almost; but surely a man is not -stricken blind and dumb by a single glance from a girl's wondering or -enquiring eyes? Love at first sight?--he would have dismissed the -suggestion with anger, as an impertinence, a profanation. It was not -love at all: it was a strange kind of interest and sympathy she had -inspired--compassionate almost, and yet more reverent than pitiful. -There appeared to be some mysterious and subtle appeal in her very -youth: why should one so young be so solitary, so timid, sheltering -herself, as it were, from the common gaze? Why that touch of pathos -about a mouth that was surely meant to smile?--why the lowered -eyelashes?--was it because she knew she was alone in this great -wilderness of strangers, in this teeming town? And he felt in his heart -that this was not the place for her at all. She ought to have been away -in sunny meadows golden with buttercups, with the laughter of young -children echoing around her, with the wide air fragrant with the -new-mown hay, with thrushes and blackbirds piping clear from amidst the -hawthorn boughs. Who had imprisoned this beautiful child, and made a -white slave of her, and brought her into this great roaring market of -the world? And was there no one to help? - -But it was all a perplexity to him; even as was this indefinable concern -and anxiety about one to whom he had never even spoken a word. What was -there in that pensive beauty that should so strangely trouble him? She -had made no appeal to him; their eyes could scarcely be said to have -met, even in that brief moment; her cruel fate, the tyranny of her -surroundings, her pathetic resignation, were all part and parcel of a -distracted reverie, that seemed to tear his heart asunder with fears, -and indignation, and vows of succour. And then--somehow--amidst this -chaos and bewilderment--his one desire was that she should know he -wished to be her friend--that some day--oh, some wild white day of -joy!--he should be permitted to take her hand and say "Do not be so sad! -You are not so much alone. Let me be by your side for a little -while--until you speak--until you tell me what I can do--until you say -'Yes, I take you for my friend!'" - -He had wandered away from the fashionable crowd--pacing aimlessly along -the unfrequented roadways of the Park, and little recking of the true -cause of the unrest that reigned in his bosom. For one thing, -speculations about love or marriage had so far concerned him but -slightly; these things were too remote; his aspirations and ambitions -were of another sort. Then again he was familiar with feminine society. -While other lads were at college, their thoughts intent on cricket, or -boating, or golf, he had been kept at home with masters and teachers to -fit him for the practical career which had been designed for him; and -part of the curriculum was that he should mix freely with his kind, and -get to know what people of our own day were thinking, not what people of -two thousand years ago had been thinking. One consequence of this was -that 'Vin' Harris, as he was universally called, if he did not know -everything, appeared to know everybody; and of course he was acquainted -with scores on scores of pretty girls--whom he liked to look at when, -for example, they wore a smart lawn tennis costume, and who interested -him most perhaps when they were saucy; and also he was acquainted with a -considerable number of young married ladies, who were inclined to pet -him, for he was good-natured, and easy-mannered, and it may be just a -little careless of their favour. But as for falling seriously in love -(if there were such a thing) or perplexing himself with dreams of -marriage--that was far from his scheme of life. His morning companions -were Spencer, Bain, John Mill, Delolme, Hallam, Freeman, and the like; -during the day he was busy with questions relating to food supply, to -the influence of climate on character, the effect of religious creeds on -mental development, the protection and cultivation of new industries, -and so forth; then in the evening he was down at the House of Commons a -good deal, especially when any well-known orator was expected to speak; -and again he went to all kinds of social festivities, particularly when -these were of a political cast, or likely to be attended by political -people. For Vin Harris was known to be a young man of great promise and -prospects; he was received everywhere; and granted a consideration by -his elders which was hardly justified by his years. That he remained -unspoiled--and even modest in a degree unusual at his age--may be put -down to his credit, or more strictly to the fortunate accident of his -temperament and disposition. - -How long he walked, and whither he walked, on this particular evening, -he hardly knew; but as daylight waned he found himself in Oxford-street, -and over there was Park-street. Well enough he remembered the address -pencilled on the visiting-card; and yet he was timorous about seeking it -out; he passed and went on--came back again--glanced nervously down the -long thoroughfare--and then resumed his aimless stroll, slowly and -reluctantly. To these indecisions and hesitations there came the -inevitable climax: with eyes lowered, but yet seeming to see everything -around him and far ahead of him, he went down Park-street until he came -to the smaller thoroughfare named on the card; and there, with still -greater shamefacedness, he paused and ventured to look at the house that -he guessed to be the abode of the old man and his granddaughter. Well, -it was a sufficiently humble dwelling; but it was neat and clean; and in -the little balcony outside the first floor were a number of pots of -flowers--lobelias, ox-eye daisies, and musk. The window was open, but -he could hear nothing. He glanced up and down the small street. By this -time the carriages had all been driven away to dinner-party and theatre; -a perfect silence prevailed everywhere; there was not a single -passer-by. It was a quiet corner, a restful haven, these two lonely -creatures had found, after their varied buffetings about the world. And -to this young man, who had just come away from the roar of Oxford-street -and its surging stream of human life, there seemed something singularly -fascinating and soothing in the stillness. He began to think that he, -too, would like to escape into this retreat. They would not object to a -solitary companion?--to a neighbour who would be content to see them, -from the other side of the way, at the window now and again, or perhaps -to say "Good morning!" or "Good evening!" as they passed him on the -pavement? He could bring his books; here would be ample opportunity for -study; there were far too many distractions and interruptions at his -father's house. And then--after weeks and weeks of patient -waiting--then perhaps--some still evening--he might be invited to cross -over? In the hushed little parlour he would take his seat--and--oh! the -wonder and enhancement of it--be privileged to sit and listen, and hear -what the wanderers, at rest at last, had to say of the far and outer -world they had left behind them. He did not know what she was called; -but he thought of several names; and each one grew beautiful--became -possessed of a curious interest--when he guessed that it might be hers. - -Suddenly the silence sprung into life; some one seemed to speak to him; -and then he knew that it was a violin--being played in that very room. -He glanced up towards the open window; he could just make out that the -old man was sitting there, within the shadow; therefore it must be the -girl herself who was playing, in the recess of the chamber. And in a -sort of dream he stood and listened to the plaintive melody--hardly -breathing--haunted by the feeling that he was intruding on some sacred -privacy. Then, when the beautiful, pathetic notes ceased, he -noiselessly withdrew with bowed head. She had been speaking to him, but -he was bewildered; he hardly could tell what that trembling, infinitely -sad voice had said. - -He walked quickly now; for in place of those vague anticipations and -reveries, a more definite purpose was forming in his brain; and there -was a certain joyousness in the prospect. The very next morning he -would come up to this little thoroughfare, and see if he could secure -lodgings for himself, perhaps opposite the house where the old man and -his granddaughter lived. It was time he was devoting himself more -vigorously to study; there were too many people calling at the big -mansion in Grosvenor Place; the frivolities of the fashionable world -were too seductive. But in the seclusion of that quiet little quarter -he could give himself up to his books; and he would know that he had -neighbours; he might get a glimpse of them from time to time; that would -lighten his toil. Then when Mary Bethune--he had come to the conclusion -that Mary was her name, and had made not such a bad guess, after -all--when Mary Bethune played one of those pathetic Scotch airs, he -would have a better right to listen; he would contentedly put down -Seaman's "Progress of Nations," and go to the open window, and sit -there, till the violin had ceased to speak. It was a most excellent -scheme; he convinced himself that it would work right well--because it -was based on common sense. - -When he arrived at the great house in Grosvenor Place, he went at once -into the dining-room, and found, though not to his surprise, that dinner -was just about over. There were only three persons seated at the long -table, which was sumptuously furnished with fruit, flowers, and silver. -At the bead was Vin Harris's father, Mr. Harland Harris, a stout, -square-set, somewhat bourgeois-looking man, with a stiff, pedantic, and -pompous manner, who nevertheless showed his scorn of conventionalities -by wearing a suit of grey tweed; on his right sate his sister-in-law, -Mrs. Ellison, a remarkably pretty young widow, tall and elegant of -figure, with wavy brown hair, shrewd blue eyes, and a most charming -smile that she could use with effect; the third member of the group -being Mr. Ogden, the great electioneerer of the north, a big and heavy -man, with Yorkshire-looking shoulders, a bald head, and small, piggish -eyes set in a wide extent of face. Mr. Ogden was resplendent in evening -dress, if his shining shirt-front was somewhat billowy. - -"What's this now?" said the pretty Mrs. Ellison to the young man, as he -came and pulled in a chair and sate down by her. "Haven't you had any -dinner?" - -"Good little children come in with dessert," said he, as he carelessly -helped himself to some olives and a glass of claret. "It's too hot to -eat food--unusual for May, isn't it? Besides I had a late luncheon with -Lord Musselburgh." - -"Lord Musselburgh?" put in Mr. Ogden. "I wonder when his lordship is -going to tell us what he means to be--an owner of racehorses, or a -yachtsman, or a statesman? It seems to me he can't make up his own -mind; and the public don't know whether to take him seriously or not." - -"Lord Musselburgh," said Vincent, firing up in defence of his friend, -"is an English gentleman, who thinks he ought to support English -institutions:--and I dare say that is why he does not find saving grace -in the caucus." - -Perhaps there was more rudeness than point in this remark; but Mrs. -Ellison's eyes laughed--decorously and unobserved. She said aloud-- - -"For my part, I consider Lord Musselburgh a very admirable young man: he -has offered me the box-seat on his coach at the next Meet of the -Four-in-Hand Club." - -"And are you going, aunt?" her nephew asked. - -"Yes, certainly." - -"Rather rash of Musselburgh, isn't it?" he observed, in a casual sort of -way. - -"Why?" - -"What attention is he likely to pay to his team, if you are sitting -beside him?" - -"None of your impertinence, sir," said she (but she was pleased all the -same). "Boys must not say such things to their grandmothers." - -Now the advent of Master Vin was opportune; for Mr. Harris, finding that -his sister-in-law had now some one of like mind to talk to, left those -two frivolous persons alone, and addressed himself exclusively to his -bulky friend from the north. And his discourse took the form of pointing -out what were the practical and definite aims that Socialism had to -place before itself. As to general principles, all thinking men were -agreed. Every one who had remarked the signs of the times knew that the -next great movement in modern life must be the emancipation of the -wage-slave. The tyranny of the capitalist--worse than any tyranny that -existed under the feudal system--must be cribbed and confined: too long -had he gorged himself with the fruits of the labours of his -fellow-creatures. The most despicable of tyrants, he; not only robbing -and plundering the hapless beings at his mercy, but debasing their -lives, depriving them of their individualism, of the self-respect which -was the birthright of the humblest handicraftsman of the middle ages, -and making of them mere machines for the purpose of filling his pockets -with useless and inordinate wealth. What was to be done, then?--what -were the immediate steps to be taken in order to alter this system of -monstrous and abominable plunder. It was all very well to make -processions to Pere Lachaise, and wave red flags, and wax eloquent over -the graves of the Communists; but there was wanted something more than -talk, something more than a tribute to the memory of the martyrs, -something actual to engage our own efforts, if the poor man was not to -be for ever ground to the dust, himself and his starving family, by the -relentless plutocrat and his convenient freedom of contract. Let the -State, then--that engine of oppression which had been invented by the -rich--now see whether it could not do something for all classes under -its care: let it consider the proletariat as well as the unscrupulous -landlords and the sordid and selfish bourgeoisie. Already it was -working the Telegraphs, the Post Office, the Parcels Post, the -Dockyards, and Savings Banks; and if it regulated the wages it paid by -the wage-rate of the outside market, that was because it followed the -wicked old system of unequal distribution of profit that was soon to be -destroyed. That would speedily be amended. What further, then? The -land for the people, first of all. As clear as daylight was the right -of the people to the land: let the State assume possession, and manage -it--its mines and minerals, its agriculture, its public grounds and -parks--for the benefit of all, not for the profit of a pampered few. -The State must buy and own the railways, must establish Communal centres -of distribution for the purchase and exchange of goods, must establish -systems of credit, must break down monopoly everywhere, and the iron -power of commercialism that was crushing the life out of the masses of -the population. The State must organise production, so that each man -shall do his share of work demanded by the community, and no more---- - -But here Mrs. Ellison, who had doubtless heard or read all this before, -turned away altogether. She asked her nephew to give her some more -strawberries. - -"I say, Vin," she remarked, incidentally, "what very beautiful -dessert-plates these are. I don't remember them. Where did you get -them?" - -"I thought you would admire them," said he. "They are my father's own -design." - -"Really! I call them very handsome--and so quaint and unusual. He must -tell me where I can get some of them: when I go back to Brighton I -should like to take a few with me for my small establishment." - -"But you can't, aunt," he said. - -"Why?" - -"Because my father had the moulds broken." - -She looked at him for a moment and then sniggered--yes, sniggered, but -discreetly, so that the two perfervid politicians should not see. - -"That is pretty well," she observed in an undertone, "for a Socialist -and Communist--to have the moulds broken so that nobody else should have -any!" - -Presently she said, in the same undertone-- - -"I'm going to catch your eye in a minute, Vin. Are you coming upstairs -to the drawing-room with me?" - -"Yes, of course, aunt," said he, instantly. "Get up now, and let's be -off." - -She rose: so did her brother-in-law. Mr. Ogden remained in his -chair--perhaps through inattention, or perhaps he was bewildered by the -consciousness that he ought to make, as a relic of his ancient worship -of _laissez faire_, some protest against this wholesale intervention of -the State. Then Vincent opened the door for the tall and bright-eyed -young widow; and he and she passed out and went upstairs together. - -When they entered the spacious and richly-furnished room, the atmosphere -of which was heavy with the scent of flowers, Mrs. Ellison seated -herself in a low lounging-chair, while her nephew stood some little way -off, his hands behind his back, his eyes absently staring into a -rose-shaded lamp as if he could see pictures there. When she spoke, no -doubt he heard; but he did not answer or interrupt: he allowed her to -ramble on. And she was in a talkative and vivacious mood. - -"I'm going to the Drawing Room to-morrow, Vin," said she, "to present -Louie Drexel; and if you were kind and civil you would come down to St. -James's Park and find out our brougham and talk to us while we are -waiting. I do so want you to get to know Miss Drexel well; it would be -worth your while, I can tell you. You see, those American girls have -such excellent good sense. This evening, before you came in, your -father was treating us to a dissertation on the iniquity of riches--or -rather the absurdity of people revelling in wealth, and at the same time -professing to be Christians. He asked--and I'm sure I couldn't answer -him--how a Bishop can reconcile his enjoyment of L10,000 a year with -Christ's plain injunction, 'Sell all that thou hast and distribute unto -the poor.' And while I was listening to the sermon, I was thinking of -you, Vin. I don't know how far you have accepted your father's -theories--which he himself takes precious good care not to put into -practice. But some day--for young men are so impulsive and wilful and -uncertain--you might suddenly take it into your head to do some wild -thing of that kind; and then don't you see how well it would be for you -to be married to a sensible American girl; for if you were to sell all -that you have and give to the poor, she would make pretty certain you -didn't sell all that she had--so long as the Married Women's Property -Act was in force. There's no mad Quixotism about a girl like -that--level-headed, isn't that what they call it over there? Then think -what a help such a wife as that would be to you in public life. Think -of an election, for example--why, Louie Drexel could talk the voters out -of their five senses--bamboozle the women, and laugh the men into good -humour. I wonder you didn't pick up one of those bright American girls -when you were over in the States: I suppose you were too busy examining -the political machine, and the machinists. But I'm glad you didn't; I -couldn't trust you; and I'm going to do it for you myself. You are my -boy: I'm going to provide for you. And I haven't fixed on Louie Drexel -yet; but at the same time you might come down to-morrow to St. James's -Park and talk to her." - -He withdrew his eyes from the crimson lamp, and came and took a chair -near her. - -"I am thinking of making a little change in my arrangements," said he. -"There is too much distraction here; especially at this time of the -year, when everybody's in town. I am going to take rooms elsewhere." - -"Oh, ho!" exclaimed the pretty young widow, with a smile. "Is that it? -The restraint of home has been found too much at last--we must have -freedom, and wine-parties, and cards? Well, who can wonder at it? I -warned your father years ago of the folly of not sending you to college; -you would have had all that over by this time, like other young men; but -no, the future Champion of the Proletariat was not to have his mind -contaminated by the sons of squires. Well, and where have the princely -apartments been chosen? In Piccadilly, of course--yellow satin and -golden goblets." - -"You are quite mistaken, aunt," he said, simply. "The rooms I hope to -get to-morrow are in a quiet little street that I dare say you never -heard of: if you saw it, you might probably call it shimmy." - -"Oh, is that it?" she said again, for her brain was nimble and swift in -the construction of theories. "Then you are really going to put some of -your father's principles into practice, and to consort with the masses? -I've often wondered when he was going to begin himself. You know how he -declares it to be monstrous that there should be people of your own -race, and colour, and religion, whom you would hesitate to ask to sit -down at the same table as yourself; but I have not heard him as yet -invite Jack the crossing-sweeper or Tom from the stable-yard to come in -and dine with him. And if they came in without an invitation, taking -him at his word, as it were, I'm afraid their reception wouldn't be -warm--yes, it would be remarkably warm--they'd be thrown out of the -front-door in a couple of seconds. So you are going slumming, is that -it? You want to understand the great heart of the people--before you -lead them on to anarchy and universal plunder?" - -"Aunt," said he, with a smile, "you mustn't say such things to me; you -mustn't pour reactionary poison into my young mind. No; I am going to -retire into that quiet little corner of London simply to get on with my -books; and as I shan't let anybody know where it is, I can't be -disturbed." - -"Do you mean to live there altogether?" she asked, glancing quickly at -him. "Shall you sleep there?" - -"Oh, no. I shall come home here each evening." - -"To dinner? But it is no use asking you that; for you never seem to -care where you dine, or whether you dine at all. Have you told your -father of this scheme?" - -"No, not yet," he made answer; and he could say nothing further just -then, for at this moment Harland Harris and his guest came upstairs from -the dining-room, and Mr. Ogden proceeded to engage the young widow in -ponderous conversation. - -As good luck would have it, when Vincent went up next morning to the -little thoroughfare leading from Park-street, he found exactly the rooms -he wanted, and engaged them there and then, paying a fortnight's rent in -advance in order to calm the good landlady's mind, for he had not a -scrap of luggage with him. The sitting-room was all he really required, -to be sure; but he did not wish to be disturbed by having the adjoining -bedroom occupied; so he took that too, money not being of much -consequence to this young man. And then, when the landlady left, he sate -down to look at his new possessions. The apartments must have looked -poorly furnished to eyes familiar with the splendour of Grosvenor Place; -but at all events they seemed clean. Cheap German lithographs adorned -the walls; the fireplace was gay with strips of pink paper. But when he -approached the window--which he did stealthily--there was more to -interest him: the opposite two windows, behind the balcony filled with -flowers, were both open: at any moment a figure might appear -there--perhaps looking out absently and vaguely with those beautiful and -wistful eyes. Or perchance he might hear the tender strains of the -unseen violin? He remained there for some time, rather breathless and -nervous, until he recollected that he had come hither for the purposes -of study; and then he thought he would go away down to Grosvenor Place -and seek out such books and writing-materials as he might want, and -bring them along forthwith. - -He went downstairs and was just about to step outside when he caught -sight of something across the way which caused him instantly to shrink -back and shelter himself within the shadow of the door--his heart -beating quickly. He had nearly been face-to-face with the pensive-eyed -young girl, for she had come forth from the opposite house, and was -waiting for her grandfather to follow. He remained concealed--fearful -of being seen, and yet scarcely knowing why. Then, when he heard the -door on the other side shut, and when he had allowed them a few seconds' -grace, he stepped forth from his hiding, and saw that they were just -turning the corner into Park-street. - -Why this perturbation that caused his hands to tremble, that caused his -eyeballs to throb, as he looked and looked, and yet hardly dared to -look? He was doing no harm--he was thinking no harm. These thoroughfares -were open to all; the May morning was warm and fine and clear; why -should not he take his way to Hyde Park as well as another? Even in -furtively watching whither they went--in keeping a certain distance -between them and him--there was no sort of sacrilege or outrage. If -they had turned and confronted him, they could not have recognised him: -it was almost impossible they could have observed the young man who was -half concealed by the curtains of the room in Musselburgh House. And -yet--yet--there was some kind of tremulous wonder in his being so near -her--in his being allowed, without let or hindrance, to gaze upon the -long-flowing masses of hair, that caught a sheen of light here and -there, and stirred with the stirring of the wind. And then the simple -grace and ease of her carriage: she held her head more erect in these -quiet thoroughfares; sometimes she turned a little to address the old -man, and then her refined and sensitive profile became visible, and also -the mysterious charm of the long and drooping lashes. He noticed that -she never looked at any passer-by; but she did not seem so sad on this -fresh morning; she was talking a good deal--and cheerfully, as he hoped. -He wished for more sunlight--that the day might brighten all around -her--that the warm airs might be sweet with the blossoms of the opening -summer. - -For now they were nearing Hyde Park; and away before them stretched the -pale blue vistas of atmosphere under the wide-swaying branches of the -maples. They crossed to Grosvenor Gate; they left the dull roar of Park -Lane behind them; they passed beneath the trees; and emerged upon the -open breadths of verdure, intersected by pale pink roads. Though summer -had come prematurely, this was almost an April-like day: there was a -south-west wind blowing, and flattening the feathery grasses; there were -shafts of misty sunlight striking here and there; while a confusion of -clouds, purple and grey and silver, floated heavily through the -surcharged sky. The newly-shorn sheep were quite white--for London. A -smart young maidservant idly shoving a perambulator had a glory of -Spring flowers in her bonnet. The mild air blowing about brought -grateful odours--was it from the green-sward all around, or from the -more distant masses of hawthorn white and red? - -The old man, marching with uplifted head, and sometimes swinging the -stick that he carried, was singing aloud in the gaiety of his heart, -though Vincent, carefully keeping at a certain distance, could not make -out either the words or the air. The young girl, on the other hand, was -simply looking at the various objects, animate and inanimate, around -her--at the birds picking up straws or shreds of wool for the building -of their nests, at the wind shivering through the grey spikelets of the -grass, at the ever-changing conformation of the clouds, at the swaying -of the branches of the trees; while from time to time there came -floating over from Knightsbridge the sound of a military band. No, she -did not appear so sad as she had done the day before; and there was -something cheerful, too, about her costume--about the simple dress of -dark blue-and-white-striped linen and the sailor's hat of cream-white -with a dark blue band. Mary, he made sure her name was--Mary Bethune. -Only a name to him; nothing more: a strange, indefinable, immeasurable -distance lay between them; not for him was it to draw near to her, to -breathe the same air with her, to listen to the low tones of her voice, -to wait for the uplifting of the mysteriously shaded eyes. And as for -fancies become more wildly audacious?--what would be the joy of any -human being who should be allowed to touch--with trembling -fingertips--with reverent and almost reluctant fingertips--the soft -splendour of that shining and beautiful hair? - -George Bethune and his granddaughter made their way down to the -Serpentine, and took their places on a bench there, while the old man -proceeded to draw from his pocket a newspaper, which he leisurely began -to read. The girl had nothing to do but sit placidly there and look -around her--at the shimmering stretch of water, at the small boys -sailing their mimic yachts, at the quacking ducks and yelping dogs, at -the ever-rustling and murmuring trees. Vincent Harris had now dared to -draw a little nearer; but still he felt that she was worlds and worlds -away. How many yards were there between him and her?--not yards at all, -but infinities of space! They were strangers to each other; no spoken -word was possible between them; they might go through to the end of life -with this impalpable barrier for ever dividing them. And yet it seemed -a sort of miraculous thing that he was allowed to come so close--that he -could almost tell the individual threads of that soft-shining hair. -Then, more than once, too, he had caught a glimpse of her raised eyes, -as she turned to address her grandfather; and that was a startling and -bewildering experience. It was not their mere beauty; though, to be -sure, their clear and limpid deeps seemed all the more clear and limpid -because of the touch of sun-tan on her complexion; it was rather that -they were full of all ineffable things--simplicity, submission, -gratitude, affection, and even, as he rejoiced to think, some measure of -mild enjoyment. For the moment there was little of that pensive and -resigned look that had struck him in the figure standing with bowed head -at Lord Musselburgh's table. She appeared to be pleased with the -various life around her and its little incidents; she regarded the -sailing of the miniature yachts with interest. When a brace of duck went -whirring by overhead, she followed their flight until they were lost to -view; she watched two small urchins furtively fishing for minnows, with -an eye on the distant park-keeper. There was a universal rustling of -leaves in the silence; and sometimes, when the wind blew straight -across, the music of the military band became more distinct. - -How long they remained there, the young man did not know; it was a -golden morning, and all too brief. But when at last they did rise to go -he was very nearly caught; for instead of returning by the way they had -come, they struck westward; and he suddenly saw with alarm that there -was no time for him to get behind one of the elms. All he could do was -to turn aside, and lower his eyes. They passed within a few yards of -him; he could distinctly hear the old man singing, with a fine note of -bravado in his voice, "The standard on the braes o' Mar, is up and -streaming rarely"; then, when he was sure they were some way off, he -made bold to raise his eyes again. Had she taken any notice of him? He -hoped not. He did not wish her to think him a spy; he did not wish to -be known to her at all. He should be her constant neighbour, her -companion almost, without any consciousness on her part. And again and -again he marvelled that the landlady in the little thoroughfare should -have given him those treasures of rooms--should have put such happiness -within his reach--for so trivial a sum. Seventeen shillings a -week!--when each moment would be a diamond, and each evening hour a -string of diamonds! - -But nevertheless there were his studies to be thought of; so now he -walked away down to Grosvenor Place, gathered his books together, and -took them up in a hansom to his newly-acquired lodgings. That afternoon -he did loyally stick to his work--or tried to do so, though, in fact, -his ears were alert for any sound coming from the other side of the way. -He had left his window open; one of the windows of the opposite house -was also left open. Occasionally he would lay down Draper's Civil War in -America, and get up and stretch his legs, and from a convenient shelter -send a swift glance of scrutiny across the street. There was no sign. -Perhaps they had gone out again, shopping, or visiting, or, as likely as -not, to look at the people riding and driving in the Park. He returned -to Draper, and to President Jackson's Proclamation--but with less of -interest: his annotations became fewer. He was listening as well as -reading. - -Then all of a sudden there flashed into his brain a suggestion--a -suggestion that had little to do with Clay's Compromise, or the project -to arrest Mr. Calhoun. On the previous evening it had seemed to him as -though the unseen violinist were speaking to him: why, then, should he -not answer, in the same language? There could be no offence in that--no -impertinence: it would be merely one vague voice responding to the -other, the unknown communicating in this fleshless and bloodless way -with the unknown. And now he was abundantly grateful to his aunt for -having insisted on his including music among his various studies and -accomplishments: a use had come for his slight proficiency at last: most -modern languages he knew, but he had never expected to be called upon to -speak in this one. And yet what more simple, as between neighbours? He -was not thrusting his society on any one; he was invading no privacy; he -was demanding no concession of friendship or even acquaintance. But at -least the dreadful gulf of silence would be bridged over by this mystic -means. - -It was nearly six o'clock; London was busy when he went out on this hot -evening. He walked along to a music-publisher's place in Regent-street; -and hired a piano on the express stipulation that it was to be in his -rooms within one hour. Then, as he had only had a biscuit for lunch, -and wished to leave himself untrammelled later on, he turned into a -restaurant, and dined there, simply enough, and had a cigarette and a -look at the evening papers. Thereafter he strolled back to his lodgings, -and took to his book, though his thoughts were inclined to wander now -and again. - -Twilight had fallen; but he did not light the gas. Once, for a brief -second or two, he had quietly run his fingers over the keys of the -piano, to learn if it was tolerably in tune; then the room relapsed into -silence again. And was there to be silence on the other side as well? -He waited and listened, and waited and listened, in vain. Perhaps, -while he was idling away his time in the Regent-street restaurant, they -had come out from the house and gone off to some theatre. The street -was so still now that he could almost have heard any one speaking in -that room on the other side; but there was no sound. - -Then his heart leapt and his brain grew giddy. Here was that -low-breathing and vibrating wail again:--and was she alone now?--in the -gathering darkness? He recognised the air; it was "Auld Robin Gray;" -but never before had he known that it was so beautiful and so ineffably -sad as well. Slowly she played and simply; it was almost like a human -voice; only that the trembling strings had a penetrating note of their -own. And when she ceased, it seemed to him that it would be profanation -to break in upon the hushed and sacred stillness. - -And yet was he not to answer her, in the only speech that could not -offend? Was he to act the coward, when there offered a chance of his -establishing some subtle link with, her, of sending a message, of -declaring his presence in this surely unobtrusive fashion? Quickly he -sat down to the piano; and, in rather a nervous and anxious fashion, -began. He was not a brilliant performer--anything but that; but he had -a light touch and a sensitive ear; and he played with feeling and grace. -It was "Kathleen Mavourneen"--and a sort of appeal in its way, did she -but remember the words. He played the melody over only once, slowly and -as sympathetically as he could; then he rose and retired from the piano; -and stood in the darkness, listening. - -Alas! there was no response. What had he done? He waited, wondering; -but all was still in the little street. It was as if some bird, some -mellow-throated thrush or nightingale, had been warbling to itself in -the dim security of the leaves, and been suddenly startled and silenced -by an alien sound, not knowing what that might portend. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - - AN APPROACH. - - -There was a knock at the door. - -"Come in!" called out old George Bethune. - -There appeared a middle-aged man, of medium height, who looked like a -butler out of employment; he was pale and flabby of face, with nervous -eyes expressive of a sort of imbecile amiability. - -"Ah, Hobson!" said Mr. Bethune, in his lofty manner. "Well?" - -The landlady's husband came forward in the humblest possible fashion; -and his big, prominent, vacuous eyes seemed to be asking for a little -consideration and goodwill. - -"I beg your pardon, sir," said he, in the most deplorable of Cockney -accents, "I 'umbly beg your pardon for making so bold; but knowing as -you was so fond of everything Scotch, I took the liberty of bringing you -a sample of something very special--a friend of mine, sir, recommended -it--and then says I to him, 'Lor bless ye, I don't know nothing about -Highland whiskey; but there's a gentleman in our 'ouse who is sure to be -a judge, and if I can persuade him to try it, he'll be able to say if -it's the real sort.'" - -"All right, Hobson," said George Bethune, in his grand way. "Some other -time I will see what it is like." - -"Thank you, sir, thank you!" said the ex-butler, with earnest gratitude; -and he went and placed the bottle on the sideboard. Then he came back, -and hesitatingly took out an envelope from his pocket. "And if I might -ask another favour, sir. You see, sir, in this 'ot weather people won't -go to the theatres; and they're not doing much; and my brother-in-law, -the theatrical agent, he's glad to get the places filled up, to make a -show, sir, as you might say. And I've got two dress-circle seats, if -you and the young lady was thinking of going to the theatre to-morrow -night. It's a great favour, sir, as my brother-in-law said to me as he -was a-giving me the tickets and arsking me to get 'em used." - -He lied; for there was no brother-in-law and no theatrical agent in the -case. He himself had that very afternoon honestly and straightforwardly -purchased the tickets at the box-office, as he had done on more than one -occasion before, out of the money allowed him for personal expenses by -his wife; so that he had to look forward to a severe curtailment of his -gin and tobacco for weeks to come. - -"Thanks--thanks!" said George Bethune, as he lit his long clay pipe. "I -will see what my granddaughter says when she comes in--unless you would -like to use the tickets yourself." - -"Oh, no, sir, begging your pardon, sir," was the instant rejoinder. -"When I 'ave a evening out I go to the Oxbridge music-'all--perhaps it's -vanity, sir--but when Charley Coldstream gets a hangcore, I do like to -hear some on 'em call out, 'Says Wolseley, says he!' Ah, sir, that was -the proudest moment of my life when I see Charley Coldstream come on the -stage and begin to sing verse after verse, and the people cheering; and -I owed it all to you, sir; it was you, sir, as advised me to send it to -him----" - -"A catching refrain--a catching refrain," said the old gentleman, -encouragingly. "Just fitted to get hold of the public ear." - -"Why, sir," said Hobson, with a fatuous little chuckle of delight, "this -werry afternoon, as I was coming down Park-street, I 'eard a butcher's -boy a-singing it--I did indeed, sir--as clear as could be I 'eard the -words, - - 'Says Wolseley, says he, - To Arabi, - You can fight other chaps, but you can't fight me.' - ---every word I 'eard. But would you believe it, sir, when I was in the -Oxbridge music-'all I could 'ardly listen, I was so frightened, and my -ears a-buzzin, and me 'ardly able to breathe. Lor, sir, that was a -experience! Nobody looked at me, and that was a mercy--I couldn't ha' -stood it. Even the chairman, as was not more than six yards from me, 'e -didn't know who I was, and not being acquainted with him, I couldn't -offer him somethink, which I should have considered it a proud honour so -to do on sich an occasion. And if I might make so bold, sir----" - -He was fumbling in his breast-pocket. - -"What--more verses?" said Mr. Bethune, good-naturedly. "Well, let's see -them. But take a seat, man, take a seat." - -Rather timidly he drew a chair in to the table; and then he said with -appealing eyes: - -"But wouldn't you allow me, sir, to fetch you a little drop of the -whiskey--I assure you it's the best!" - -"Oh, very well--very well; but bring two tumblers; single drinking is -slow work." - -In a few seconds those two curiously-assorted companions--the one -massive and strong-built, impressive in manner, measured and emphatic of -speech, the other feeble and fawning, at once eager and vacuous, his -face ever ready to break into a maudlin smile--were seated in -confabulation together, with some sheets of scribbled paper between. - -"And if you will excuse my being so bold, sir," continued Hobson, with -great humility, "but I 'ave been reading the little volume of Scotch -songs you lent me, and--and----" - -"Trying your hand at that, too?" - -"Only a verse, sir." - -Mr. Bethune took up the scrap of paper; and read aloud: - - "O leese me on the toddy, - the toddy, - the toddy, - O leese me on the toddy, - We'll hae a willie-waught!" - - -"Well, yes," he said, with rather a doubtful air, "you've got the -phrases all right--except the willie-waught, and that is a common error. -To tell you the truth, my friend, there is no such thing as a -willie-waught. _Waught_ is a hearty drink; a richt gude-willie waught -is a drink with right good will. _Willie-waught_ is nothing--a -misconception--a printer's blunder. However, phrases do not count for -much. Scotch phrases do not make Scotch song. It is not the provincial -dialect--it is the breathing spirit that is the life"--and therewith he -repeated, in a proud manner, as if to crush this poor anxious poet by -the comparison, - - "I see her in the dewy flower, - Sae lovely, sweet, and fair; - I hear her voice in ilka bird - Wi' music charm the air; - There's not a bonnie flower that springs - By fountain, shaw, or green, - Nor yet a bonnie bird that sings - But minds me o' my Jean." - - -"Beg pardon, sir--Miss Bethune?" said Hobson, enquiringly; for he -evidently thought these lines were of the old gentleman's own -composition. And then, as he received no answer, for Mr. Bethune had -turned to his pipe, he resumed, "Ah, I see, sir, I 'ave not been -successful. Too ambitious--too ambitious. It was you yourself, sir, as -advised me to write about what I knew; and--and in fact, sir, what I see -is that there is nothing like patriotism. Lor, sir, you should see them -young fellers at the Oxbridge--they're as brave as lions--especially -when they've 'ad a glass. Talk about the French! The French ain't in -it, when we've got our spirit up. We can stand a lot, sir, yes, we can; -but don't let them push us too far. Not _too_ far. It will be a bad -day for them when they do. An Englishman ain't given to boasting; but -he's a terror when his back's up--and a Scotchman too, sir, I beg your -pardon--I did not mean anything--I intended to include the Scotchman -too, I assure you, sir. There's a little thing here, sir," he continued -modestly, "that I should like to read to you, if I may make so bold. I -thought of sending it to Mr. Coldstream--I'm sure it would take--for -there's some fight in the Englishman yet--and in the Scotchman too, -sir," he instantly added. - -"A patriotic poem?--Well?" - -Thus encouraged the pleased poet moistened his lips with the whiskey and -water he had brought for himself and began-- - - "_Where's the man would turn and fly?_ - _Where's the man afraid to die?_ - _It isn't you, it isn't I._ - _No, my lads, no, no!_" - -Then his voice had a more valiant ring in it still: - - "_Who will lead us to the fray?_ - _Who will sweep the foe away?_ - _Who will win the glorious day?_ - _Of England's chivalry?_" - -It is true he said, "Oo will sweep the foe awye?" but these little -peculiarities were lost in the fervour of his enthusiasm. - - "_Roberts--Graham--Buller--Wood--_" - -He paused after each name as if listening for the thunderous cheering of -the imaginary audience. - - "And many another 'most as good: - They're the men to shed their blood - For their country!" - -Then there was a touch of pathos: - - "_Fare thee well, love, and adieu!_" - -But that was immediately dismissed: - - "_Fiercer thoughts I have than you;_ - _We will drive the dastard crew_ - _Into slavery!_" - -And then he stretched forth his right arm, and declaimed in loud and -portentous tones-- - - "_See the bloody tented-field;_ - _Look the foe--they yield!--they yield!_ - _Hurrah! hurrah! our glory's sealed!_ - _Three cheers for victory!_" - - -Suddenly his face blanched. For at this moment the door opened: a tall -woman appeared--with astonishment and indignation only too legible in -her angular features. - -"Hobson!" she exclaimed; and at this awful sound the bold warrior seemed -to collapse into a limp rag. "I am surprised--I am _indeed_ surprised! -Really, sir, how can you encourage him in such impudence? Seated at -your own table and drinking too, I declare," she went on, as she lifted -up the deserted tumbler--for her bellicose husband had hastily picked up -his MSS. and vanished from the room. "Really, sir, such familiarity!" - -"In the republic of letters, my good Mrs. Hobson," said Mr. Bethune with -a smile, "all men are equal. I have been much interested in some of -your husband's writings." - -"Oh, sir, don't put sich things in his 'ead!" she said, as she proceeded -to lay the cloth for dinner. "He's a fool, and that's bad enough; but if -so be as you put things in his 'ead, and he giving of hisself airs, -it'll be hawful! What good he is to anybody, I don't know. He won't -clean a winder or black a boot even." - -"How can you expect it?" George Bethune said, in perfect good humour. -"Manual labour would be a degradation. Men of genius ought to be -supported by the State." - -"In the workus, I suppose," she said, sharply--but here Maisrie Bethune -came upstairs and into the room, carrying some parcels in her hand, and -instantly the landlady's face changed its expression, and became as -amiable and smiling as the gaunt features would allow. - -At dinner the old man told his granddaughter that he had procured (he -did not say how) places at the ---- Theatre for the following evening, -and seemed to be pleased about this little break in their quiet lives. - -"But why did you go to such expense, grandfather?" Maisrie said. "You -know I am quite happy enough in spending the evening at home with you. -And every day now I ask myself when I am to begin copying the poems--for -the volume, you know. You have sent for them to America, haven't you? -But really you have such a wonderful memory, grandfather, I believe you -could repeat them all--and I could write them down--and let the printers -have them. I was so glad when you let me help you with the book you -published in Montreal; and you know my writing is clear enough; you -remember what the foreman printer said? Don't you think we could begin -to-night, grandfather? It pleases you to repeat those beautiful -verses--you are so fond of them--and proud of them because they are -written by Scotchmen--and I am sure it would be a delight to me to write -them out for you." - -"Oh, yes, yes," he said, fretfully, "but not to-night. You're always in -such a hurry, Maisrie." And then he added, in a gentler way, "Well, it -is a wonderful blessing, a good memory. I never want for a companion, -when I've a Scotch air or a Scotch song humming through my brain. On -the darkest and wettest day, here in this big city, what have you to do -but think of - - 'The broom, the yellow, yellow broom, - The broom o' the Cowdenknowes,' - -and at once you have before you golden banks, and meadows, and June -skies, and all else is forgotten. Indeed, lass, Scotland has become for -me such a storehouse of beautiful things--in imagination--that I am -almost afraid to return to it, in case the reality might disappoint me. -No, no, it could not disappoint me: I treasure every inch of the sacred -soil: but sometimes I wonder if you will recognise the magic and -witchery of hill and glen. As for me, there is naught else I fear now; -there are no human ties I shall have to take up again; I shall not have -to mourn the 'Bourocks o' Bargeny.'" - -"What is that, grandfather?" - -"If you had been brought up in Scotland, Maisrie, you would know what -the bigging o' bourocks is among children--play-houses in the sand. But -sometimes the word is applied to huts or cottages, as it is in the title -of Hugh Ainslie's poem. That poem is one that I shall be proud to give -a place to in my collection," he continued, with an air of importance. -"Hugh Ainslie is no more with us; but his countrymen, whether in America -or at home, are not likely to forget the 'Bourocks o' Bargeny.'" - -"Can you remember it, grandfather?" - -"Can I not?" said he; and therewith he repeated the lines, never -faltering once for a phrase-- - - "I left ye, Jeanie, blooming fair - 'Mang the bourocks o' Bargeny; - I've found ye on the banks o' Ayr, - But sair ye're altered, Jeanie. - I left ye like the wanton lamb - That plays 'mang Hadyed's heather; - I've found ye noo a sober dame-- - A wife and eke a mither. - - I left ye 'mang the leaves sae green - In rustic weed befittin'; - I've found ye buskit like a queen, - In painted chaumer sittin'. - Ye're fairer, statelier, I can see, - Ye're wiser, nae doubt, Jeanie; - But oh! I'd rather met wi' thee - 'Mang the bourocks of Bargeny!" - - -"It's very sad, grandfather," she said, wistfully. - -"The way of the world--the way of the world," said he; and observing -that she had finished and was waiting for him, he forthwith rose and -went to the mantelpiece for his pipe. "There's many a true story of -that kind. Well, Maisrie, you'll just get your violin, and we'll have -the 'Broom o' the Cowdenknowes?'" And while she went to fetch the -violin, and as he cut his tobacco, he sang in a quavering voice-- - - "O the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom, - The broom o' the Cowdenknowes, - I wish I were at hame again - Where the broom sae sweetly grows!" - -And then he went to the window, to smoke his pipe in peace and quiet, -while Maisrie, seated further back in the shadow of the room, played for -him the well-known air. Did she guess--and fear--that she might have an -audience of more than one? At all events her doubts were soon resolved: -when she had ceased, and after a second or so of silence, there came -another sound into the prevailing hush--it was one of the Songs without -Words, and it was being played with considerable delicacy and charm. - -"Hallo," said Mr. Bethune, when he heard the first low-rippling notes, -"have we a musical neighbour now?" - -"Yes, grandfather," Maisrie replied, rather timidly. "Last night, when -you were out, some one played." - -"Ah, a music-mistress, I dare say. Poor thing--perhaps all alone--and -wishing to be friendly in this sort of fashion." - -They listened without further speech until the last notes had gradually -died away. - -"Now, Maisrie, it is your turn!" - -"Oh, no, grandfather!" she said, hastily. - -"Why not?" - -"It would be like answering--to a stranger." - -"And are we not all strangers?" he said, gently. "I think it is a very -pretty idea, if that is what is meant. We'll soon see. Come, Maisrie; -something more than the plashing of a southern fountain--something with -northern fire in it. Why not 'Helen of Kirkconnell'?" - -The girl was very obedient; she took up her violin; and presently she -was playing that strangely simple air that nevertheless is about as -proud and passionate and piteous as the tragic story to which it is -wedded. Perhaps the stranger over there did not know the ballad; but -George Bethune knew it only too well; and his voice almost broke into a -sob as he said, when she had finished-- - -"Ah, Maisrie, it was no music-master taught you that; it was born in -your nature. Sometimes I wonder if a capacity for intense sympathy -means an equal capacity for suffering; it is sad if it should be so; a -thick skin would be wholesomer--as far as I have seen the world; and few -have seen more of it. Well, what has our neighbour to say?" - -Their unseen companion on the other side of the little thoroughfare -responded with a waltz of Chopin's--a mysterious, elusive sort of a -thing, that seemed to fade away into the dark rather than to cease. -Maisrie appeared disinclined to continue this _do ut des_ programme; but -her grandfather overruled her; and named the airs for her to play, one -by one, in alternation with those coming from the open window opposite. -At last she said she was tired. It was time for the gas to be lit, and -the hot water brought up for her grandfather's toddy. So she closed the -window and pulled down the blind; lit up the room; rang the bell for the -hot water; and then placidly sate down to her knitting, whilst her -grandfather, brewing himself an unmistakable gude-willie waught, and -lighting another pipe, proceeded to entertain her with a rambling -disquisition upon the world at large, but especially upon his own -travels and experiences therein, his philosophical theories, and his -reminiscences of the Scotch countryside ballads of his youth. - -That mystic and enigmatic conversation with their neighbour over the way -was not continued on the following evening, for the old man and his -granddaughter went to the theatre; but on the next night again it was -resumed; and thereafter, on almost every evening, the two windows -replied to each other, as the twilight deepened into dusk. And Maisrie -was less reluctant now--she almost took this little concert _a deux_ as -a matter of course. For one thing, the stranger, whoever he or she -might be, did not seem in any way anxious to push the acquaintance any -further; no one ever appeared at that open window; nor had she ever -encountered any one coming out as she stood on the doorstep waiting for -her grandfather. As for him, he still maintained that the new occupant -of those rooms must be a woman--perhaps some shy creature, willing to -think that she had friendly neighbours, and yet afraid to show herself. -Besides, the music that came in response to Maisrie's Scotch airs was -hardly what a man would have chosen. The stranger over there seemed -chiefly fond of Mendelssohn, Chopin, and Mozart; though occasionally -there was an excursion into the _Volkslieder_ domain--"_Zu Strassburg -auf der Schanz_," "_Es ritten drei Reiter zum Thore hinaus_," "_Von -meinetn Bergli muss i scheiden_," or something of that kind; whereas, if -it had been a man who occupied those rooms, surely they would have -heard--during the day, for example--a fine bold ditty like "Simon the -Cellarer," "The Bay of Biscay," or "The Friar of Orders Gray," with a -strident voice outroaring the accompaniment? Maisrie answered nothing -to these arguments; but in spite of herself, when she had to cross the -room for something or other, her eyes would seek that mysteriously -vacant window, with however rapid and circumspect a glance. And always -in vain. Moreover, the piano was never touched during the day: the -stranger invariably waited for the twilight before seeking to resume -that subtle link of communication. - -Of course this state of things could not go on for ever--unless the -person over there possessed the gift of invisibility. One morning as -Maisrie and her grandfather were going out as usual for a stroll in the -Park, she went downstairs first, and along the lobby, and opened the -door, to wait for him. At the very same instant the door opposite was -opened, and there, suddenly presented to her view, was a young man. He -was looking straight across; she was looking straight across; their eyes -met without the slightest chance of equivocation or denial; and each -knew that this was recognition. They regarded each other but for a -swift second; but as plainly as possible he had said to her "Do you -guess? Are you angry? No, do not be angry!"--and then his glance was -averted; he shut the door behind him; and slowly proceeded on his way. -Was she surprised? No. Perhaps she was startled by the unexpectedness -of the meeting; perhaps her heart was beating a little more quickly than -usual; but a profound instinct had already told her that it was no woman -who had spoken to her in those dusky twilights, evening after evening. -A woman would not have wrapped herself up in that mysterious secrecy. A -woman who wished to make friends with her neighbours over the way would -have come to the window, would have smiled, would have made some excuse -for calling. Maisrie did not ostensibly look after the young man--but -she could see him all the same, until he turned the corner. She was -vaguely troubled. The brief glance she had met had in it a kind of -appeal. And she wished to say in return that she was not offended; -that, being strangers, they must remain strangers; but that she had not -taken his boldness ill. She wished to say--she did not know what. Then -her grandfather came down; and they went away together; but she uttered -not a syllable as to what had just occurred. It was all a bewilderment -to her--that left her a little breathless when she tried to think of it. - -That night, when the customary time arrived, she refused to take up her -violin; and when her grandfather remonstrated, she had no definite -excuse. She hesitated and stammered--said they had not played chess for -ever so long--or would he rather have a game of draughts?--anything but -the violin. - -"Are you forgetting your good-natured neighbour over there?" her -grandfather asked. "It will be quite a disappointment for her. Poor -thing, it appears to be the only society she has; we never hear a sound -otherwise; there seems to be no one ever come to talk to her during the -day, or we should hear a voice now and again." - -"Yes, but, grandfather," said Maisrie, who seemed much embarrassed, -"don't you think it a little imprudent to--to encourage this kind of--of -answering each other--without knowing who the other person is?" - -"Why, what can be more harmless!" he protested, cheerfully, and then he -went on: "More harmless than music?--nothing, nothing! Song is the -solace of human life; in joy it is the natural expression of our -happiness--in times of trouble it refreshes the heart with thoughts of -other and brighter days. A light heart--a heart that can sing to -itself--that is the thing to carry you through life, Maisrie!" And he -himself, as he crossed the room to fetch a box of matches, was trolling -gaily, with a fine bravura execution-- - - "The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith, - Fu' loud the wind blows frae the ferry; - The ship rides by the Berwick Law, - And I maun leave my bonnie Mary." - - -Maisrie was not to be moved; but she appeared down-hearted a little. As -time went on the silence in the little street seemed somehow to accuse -her; she knew she was responsible. She was playing draughts with her -grandfather, in a perfunctory sort of way. She remembered that glance -of appeal--she could not forget it--and this had been her answer. Then -all of a sudden her hand that hovered over the board trembled, and she -had almost dropped the piece that was in her fingers: for there had -sprang into the stillness a half-hushed sound--it was an air she knew -well enough--she could almost recognise the words-- - - "_Nachtigall, ich hoer' dich singen;_ - _S'Herz thut mir im Leibe springen,_ - _Komm nur bald und sag mir's wohl,_ - _Wie ich mich verhalten soll._" - - -Her grandfather stopped the game to listen; and when the soft-toned -melody had ceased, he said---- - -"There, now, Maisrie, that is an invitation: you must answer." - -"No, no, grandfather," she said, almost in distress. "I would rather -not--you don't know--you must find out something about--about whoever it -is that plays. I am sure it will be better. Of course it is quite -harmless, as you say--oh, yes, quite harmless--but I should like you to -get to know first--quite harmless, of course--but I am frightened--about -a stranger--not frightened, of course--but--don't ask me, grandfather!" - -Well, it was not of much concern to him; and as he was winning all along -the line, he willingly returned to the game. It had grown so dark, -however, that Maisrie had to go and light the gas--having drawn down the -blinds first, as was her invariable habit. When she came back to the -table she seemed to breathe more freely; though she was thoughtful and -pre-occupied--not with the game. The music on the other side of the way -was not resumed that evening, as far as they could hear. - -Several days passed; and each evening now was silent. Maisrie saw -nothing more of the young man; indeed, she studiously refrained from -glancing across to the other side of the street--except when she was -going out, and wanted to make sure there was no one there. But -something was now about to happen that entirely altered this disposition -of affairs. - -One morning George Bethune and his granddaughter had gone for their -accustomed stroll in Hyde Park, and in course of time had taken their -places on a bench near the Serpentine, while the old man had pulled out -a newspaper and began to read it. The day was sultry, despite an -occasional stirring of wind; and Maisrie sitting there, and having -nothing to do but look at the water, and the trees, and the sky, -observed that all the world around them was gradually growing darker. -In the south, especially, the heavens were of a curious metallic hue--a -livid grey, as it were; while across that hung two horizontal belts of -deepest purple that remained motionless, while other and lighter tags of -vapour were inter-twisting with each other or melting away into -nothingness. Those two clouds were not of the usual cloud-form at -all--they were rather like two enormous torpedoes lying one above the -other; and there was a sombre deadness of hue about them that looked -ominous. Suddenly, as she was thus vaguely regarding those long purple -swathes, there ran across them--springing vertically upwards--a -quivering line of yellow flame--so thin it was, it appeared like a -thread of golden wire--and when that had vanished, there was a second or -two of silence, followed by a dull, low, rumbling noise that seemed to -come from a considerable distance. She was not much alarmed. There -were no signs of a terrific thunderstorm; probably a few more flashes -would serve to loosen and disperse those lowering clouds, and allow the -day to clear. - -It was at this moment that a young man came up and addressed Mr. -Bethune--with a certain courteous hesitation, and yet in frank and -ingenuous tones. - -"I beg your pardon, sir," said he, "but may I claim the privilege of a -neighbour to offer you this umbrella--I'm afraid there's a shower -coming--and the young lady may get wet." - -It was a pleasant voice; George Bethune looked up well-disposed towards -the stranger, whoever he might be. And the face of the young man was -also prepossessing; it was something more than handsome; it was -intelligent and refined; and the honest and straightforward eyes had a -certain confidence in them, as if they were not used to having their -friendly advances repulsed. - -"I thank you--I thank you," said George Bethune, with much dignity. "I -had not observed. But you will want the umbrella for yourself--we can -get shelter under one of the trees." - -"Would that be wise, sir, in a thunderstorm?" said the young man. "Oh, -no, let me give you the umbrella--I don't mind a shower--and it won't be -more than that, I fancy." - -George Bethune accepted the proffered courtesy. - -"Here, Maisrie, since this young gentleman is so kind; you'd better be -prepared. A neighbour did you say, sir?" he continued. - -"A very near neighbour," answered the young man, with a smile, and he -seated himself by the side of Mr. Bethune without more ado. "I have -often thought of speaking to you, and asking to be allowed to make your -acquaintance; for you seem to have very few visitors--you will pardon my -curiosity--while I have none at all." - -"Oh, really, really," the old man said, somewhat vaguely; perhaps he was -wondering how so faultlessly attired a young gentleman (his -patent-leather boots, for example, were of the most approved pattern) -should have chosen lodgings in so humble a thoroughfare. - -"It is a very quiet little corner, is it not?" the young man -said--almost as if answering that unspoken question. "That is why it -suits me so well; I can get on with my books without interruption. The -street is so small that it isn't worth an organ-grinder's while to waste -time in it." - -"Music is a sad thing for interrupting study; I know that," the old -gentleman observed. "By the way, I hope we do not disturb you--my -granddaughter plays the violin sometimes--" - -"I could listen to that kind of music all day long," was the response. -"I never heard such violin-playing--most beautiful!--most beautiful!" - -"Then you are not far away from us?" - -"Right opposite," was the straightforward answer. - -George Bethune glanced at the young man with a look of quiet amusement; -he was thinking of the pale music-mistress--the solitary widow of his -imagination. - -"And you--you also play a little in the evenings sometimes?" - -"I hope you didn't think it rude, sir," the young man said, humbly. "I -thought it permissible, as between neighbours." - -"Oh, they were pretty little concerts," said George Bethune, -good-naturedly. "Very pretty little concerts. I don't know why they -were stopped. I suppose Maisrie had some fancy about them--my -granddaughter Maisrie--" - -It was a kind of introduction. The young man, modestly veiling the -quick flash of delight in his eyes at this unexpected happiness, -respectfully bowed. Maisrie, with her beautiful pale face suffused with -unusual colour, made some brief inclination also; then she seemed to -retire again from this conversation--though she could not but overhear. - -"My name is Harris," the young man said, as though these confidences -were all as a matter of course between neighbours. "It isn't a very -distinguished name; but one has to take what is given one. It is not of -much consequence." - -"I am not so sure about that," the older man rejoined, somewhat -sententiously. "A good name is a good thing; it is an honour not to be -purchased. It may be the only one of your possessions remaining to you; -but of that they cannot rob you." - -"Oh, of course, of course," Vincent said, quickly, for he perceived the -mistake he had made. "An old historic name is certainly something to be -proud of. By the way, sir, did your family originally take their name -from Bethon on the Sarthe or from Bethune in the Department of Calais?" - -"Bethune--Bethune," said the old man, who appeared to be pleased by this -question, which spoke of previous enquiries; and then he added, with a -lofty air: "The Duc de Sully, Marquis de Rosny, Sovereign Prince of -Enrichemont and Boisbel, Grand Master of the Artillery and Marshal of -France, was Maximilien de Bethune--Maximilien de Bethune." - -"Oh, really," said the young man, who seemed much impressed. - -"The name," continued old George Bethune, in the same oracular vein, -"was often spelt Beaton and Beton--especially in Scotland--as everybody -knows. Whether James, Archbishop of Glasgow, and his nephew David, -Archbishop of St. Andrews, had any immediate relationship with -France--beyond that David was consecrated Bishop of Mirepoix when he was -negotiating the marriage of James V. at the French Court--I cannot at -the moment precisely say; but of this there can be no doubt, that from -Bethune in the north came the original territorial designation of the -family, not from Bethon in the west. Maximilien de Bethune--Bethune in -the Department of the Straits of Calais." - -"Oh really," the young man said again, quite humbly. - -Now by this time it had become manifest that there was to be no -thunderstorm at all. There had been a few more of those quivering -strokes of yellow fire (that dwelt longer on the retina than in the -clouds) accompanied by some distant mutterings and rumblings; and at one -point it seemed as if the dreaded shower were coming on; but all passed -off gradually and quietly; the sky slowly brightened; a pale sunshine -began here and there to touch the greensward and the shivering elms. -This young man had no excuse for remaining here; but he seemed to -forget; he was so busy talking--and talking in a very pleased and -half-excited fashion, with an occasional glance across at the young -lady. - -"Grandfather," said Maisrie Bethune, presently, handing him the umbrella -as a sort of hint. - -But even when Vincent received his property back, he appeared to take no -heed. He had observed that the newspaper lying on the old man's knee -was the _Toronto Globe_; he drew attention to the circumstance; and now -all his conversation was of Queen's Park, Lake Ontario, of King Street, -Queen Street, Church Street, of the Exhibition Grounds, of Park Island, -and Block House Bay, and the Royal Canadian Yacht Club. So he had been -there too? Oh, yes, he had been all over Canada and America. He was as -familiar with Idaho as with Brooklyn. He had fished in the Adirondacks -and shot mountain sheep in the Rockies. - -"You have been to Omaha, then?" the old man asked. - -"Oh, yes, of course." - -"For my granddaughter here," he continued, with a smile, "is an Omaha -girl." - -"Oh, indeed," said Vincent, rather breathlessly, and again he ventured -to look across to Maisrie Bethune and her downcast eyes. - -"Yes, but only by the accident of birth," said George Bethune, -instantly, as if he must needs guard against any misapprehension. -"Every drop of blood in her veins is Scotch--and of a right good quality -too. Well, you have heard--you have heard. Do you think any one could -understand those old Scotch airs who was not herself Scotch in heart and -soul?" - -"I never heard anything so beautiful," the young man answered, in an -undertone; indeed, he seemed hardly capable of talking about her, any -more than he could fix his eyes steadily on her face. His forced -glances were timorous and fugitive. There was something sacred--that -kept him at a distance. It was enough to be conscious that she was -there; his only prayer was that she should remain; that he and she -should be together, if a little way apart, looking at the same skies and -water and trees, breathing the same air, hearkening to the same sounds. -So he kept on talking to the old man, in rather a nervous and eager -fashion, fearful all the time that either of them should propose to go. - -And thus it came about that Vincent Harris seemed to have a good deal to -say for himself; he appeared to forget that he was speaking to two -strangers; rather he was chatting with two neighbours, whom he wished to -be his friends. And the old man, in his self-sufficient and dignified -way, was quite content to encourage this new acquaintance. His -conversation was something to pass the time withal; he was modest, -well-mannered, intelligent; there was an air of distinction about him -that showed good up-bringing as well as some decision of character. No -doubt he was of a wealthy family, or he could not have spent so much of -his time in travel; by accident he had mentioned one or two well-known -people as though he were in the habit of familiarly meeting with them; -from some passing hint as to the nature of his studies, Mr. Bethune -gathered that this pleasant-spoken, pleasant-smiling neighbour was -destined for a public career. There was even something interesting, to -one who had grown old and callous of the world's shows, in noting the -bright enthusiasm of the young man, the clear light in his eyes, the -general air of strength and ease and courage that sate lightly on him, -as befitting one who was in the very May-morn of his youth. - -But at last, for shame's sake, Vincent had himself to rise and break up -this all too-attractive companionship. He said, with great humility: - -"I am sure I ought to apologise to Miss Bethune for having taken up so -much of your time. Rather an unwarrantable intrusion; but I don't think -there is any chance of the rain coming now--and--and--so I will say -good-bye." - -"Good-bye--glad to have made your acquaintance," said old George -Bethune, with a grave courtesy. - -And Maisrie made him a little bow--for he was looking at her rather -supplicatingly--as he raised his hat and withdrew. Their eyes had met -once more: she could not well have avoided that. And of course she saw -him as he walked away southward, across the bridge, until he -disappeared. - -"A very agreeable young man, that," said Mr. Bethune, with decision, as -he rose to his feet and intimated to his granddaughter that they had -better set forth again. "Frank in manner, gentle, courteous, -intelligent, too--very different from most of the young men of the day." - -His granddaughter was silent as she walked by his side. - -"What--don't you think so, Maisrie?" he said, with a touch of -impatience, for he was used to her assent. - -"I think," she answered, a little proudly, "that he showed a good deal -of confidence in coming to speak to you without knowing you; and as for -his playing those airs in the evening, and in such a way--well, I don't -like to use the word impertinence--but still----" - -He was surprised; perhaps a trifle vexed. - -"Impertinence? Nonsense! Nonsense! Frankness and -neighbourliness--that was all; no intrusion, none: a more modest young -man I have never met. And as for his coming up to speak to me, why, -bless my life, that merely shows the humanizing effects of travel. It -is like people meeting at a table d'hote; and what is the world but a -big table d'hote, where you speak with your neighbour for a little -while, and go your way, and forget him? -Confidence?--impertinence?--nonsense! He was natural, unaffected, -outspoken, as a young man should be: in fact, I found myself on such -friendly terms with him that I forgot to thank him for the little -service he did us--did you, I should say. Bashfulness, Maisrie," he -continued, in his more sententious manner, "bashfulness and stiffness -are among the worst characteristics of the untravelled and untaught. -Who are we--whatever may be our lineage and pride of birth--that we -should fence ourselves round with a palisade of suspicion or disdain?" - -And thus he went on; but he met with no response. And he did not like -it; he grew all the more emphatic about this young man; and even hinted -that women were curiously perverse creatures, who evinced no toleration, -or sympathy, or good nature in their judgment of their fellow beings. -What was her objection? To his appearance?--he was remarkably -good-looking, and refined in aspect, without a trace of effeminacy. To -his manner?--he was almost humble in his anxiety to please. To his -talk?--but he had shown himself most bright, good-humoured, alert, and -well-informed. - -"He had no right to come up and speak to you, grandfather," was all she -would say, and that with a quite unusual firmness. - -In the evening, after dinner, when the time came at which Maisrie was -accustomed to take up her violin, there was obviously a little -embarrassment. But George Bethune tried to break through that by a -forced display of geniality. - -"Come, now, Maisrie," said he, in a gay fashion, "our neighbour over the -way was straightforward enough to come up and offer us his hand; and we -must return the compliment. One good turn deserves another. Get your -violin, and play something: he will understand." - -"Grandfather, how can you ask me?" she said, almost indignantly; and -there was that in the tone of her voice that forbade him to press her -further. - -But perhaps the universal stillness that prevailed thereafter conveyed -some kind of reproach to her; or perhaps her heart softened a little; at -all events she presently said, in rather a low voice, and with a -diffident manner-- - -"Grandfather, if you--if you really think the young gentleman wished to -be kind and obliging--and--and if you would like to show him some little -politeness in return--couldn't you step across the way--and--and see -him, and talk to him for a few minutes? Perhaps he would be glad of -that, if he is quite alone." - -"A capital idea, Maisrie," the old man said, rising at once. "A capital -idea." And then he added, with an air of lofty complacency and -condescension, as he selected a couple of volumes from a heap of books -on the sideboard: "Perhaps I might as well take over the _Memoires_ with -me; it is not at all unlikely he may wish to know something further -about Maximilien de Bethune. I am not surprised--not at all -surprised--that a young man called Harris should perceive that there is -something in the grandeur of an old historical name." - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - - STALLED OX AND A DINNER OF HERBS. - - -But on this particular evening, as it happened, Vincent had promised to -dine at home; for his aunt was returning to Brighton on the following -day; and there was to be a little farewell banquet given in her honour. -Of course aunt and nephew sate together; Mrs. Ellison had arranged that; -knowing that at these semi-political dinner-parties the company was -frequently a trifle mixed, she took care that on one side at least she -should have a pleasant neighbour. And indeed when the guests had taken -their places--there were about thirty in all--the table presented a -pretty sight. From end to end it was a mass of flowers; at intervals -there were pyramids of ice, draped with roses, blush-red and yellow; but -the candles in the tall candelabra were not lit--the softly-tinted -globes of the electric light shed a sufficient and diffused lustre. It -was a sumptuous entertainment; and yet there prevailed an air of -elegance and refinement. When soup was served, it was not the -aldermanic turtle, but a clear golden fluid with gems of crimson and -green; and it was handed round in silver dishes. No one thought of a -thick soup on this hot June night. - -As soon as the hum of conversation became general, the tall and handsome -young widow turned to her companion--who was only a year or two her -junior, by the way--and with her demure and mischievous eyes grown full -of meaning she said-- - -"Vin, what has happened to you to-day?" - -"What do you mean, aunt?" he answered, with some surprise. - -"Something has happened to you to-day," she went on, confidently. "You -can't hoodwink me. Why have you been so radiant, so complaisant, this -afternoon--why are you here, for example--when you haven't shown up at -this dinner-table for weeks past?" - -"And you going away to-morrow, aunt!" he exclaimed. - -"No use, Vin. All of a sudden you want to be magnanimous to the whole -human race; your amiability becomes almost burdensome; your eyes are -full of pride and joy; and you think you can hide the transformation -from me! Well, then, I will tell you, since you won't tell me: to-day -you were introduced to her." - -He was startled--and no wonder: had his aunt, by some extraordinary -chance, witnessed that interview in Hyde Park? Mrs. Ellison's shrewd, -quick eyes noticed his alarm, and laughed. - -"The story is as clear as noonday," she continued, in the same -undertone. "You come home every night between nine and ten. Why? -Because she is an actress, playing in the first piece only; and of -course the theatre loses its attraction for you the moment she has left. -Now, my dear Vin, that is not the kind of thing for you at all! You'd -better stop it--even although you have experienced the wild joy of being -introduced to her. What do you know about her? You have been investing -her with all the charming qualities of her stage heroines; you haven't -learnt yet that she is a little slatternly in her dress, that her tastes -in eating and drinking are rather coarse, that her tastes in literature -and art aren't any--worse still, that she is already provided with a -husband, a lounger about Strand public-houses, only too ready to accept -your patronage and the price of a glass of gin--" - -He was immensely relieved. - -"Oh, you're all wrong, aunt!" he said, cheerfully. "I haven't been -inside a theatre for six months!" - -"You haven't?" she said, glancing at him with a kind of amused -suspicion. "You are really playing the good boy with Parliamentary -reports and blue books? A very admirable diligence. Other young men -would be strolling in the Park, in this hot weather." And then all of a -sudden she asked: "What subject were you studying to-day, Vin?" - -"Thompson's Distribution of Wealth," he made answer, with equal -promptitude. - -"Oh. What does he say?" - -"You don't want to know, aunt!" - -"Yes, I do: I'm used to hearing all sorts of theories at this -table--though I seldom see them put in practice." - -Well, he on his side was glad enough to get away from that other and -dangerous topic; and whether or not he believed in her innocent desire -for knowledge, he began to discourse on the possibility of universal -human happiness being reached by a voluntary equality in the -distribution of the products of labour. - -"Voluntary, do you see, aunt?--that is the very essence of the scheme," -he rambled on, while she appeared to be listening gravely. "Thompson -will have nothing to do with force; he himself points out that if you -once bring in force to redress the inequalities of wealth, you leave it -open for every succeeding majority to employ the same means, so that -industry would be annihilated: the capitalists would not lend, the -workers would not work. No, it is all to be done by mutual consent. -Those who have wealth at present are not to be disturbed; what they have -amassed is but a trifle compared with what the millions can produce; and -it is this product of universal co-operation that is to constitute the -real wealth of the world. Well, I suppose it is only a dream," he -proceeded. "On the other hand, take my father's way of looking at it. -He is all for State interference; the State is to appropriate everything -and manage everything; and to keep on managing it, I suppose, or else -things would revert to their former condition. That's where the trouble -comes in, of course. The moment you allow anything like freedom of -contract, how can you prevent the former condition of affairs coming -into existence again? You know, after all, aunt, there is generally a -reason for the institutions and social arrangements of any country; they -don't spring out of nothing; they grow, and their growth is a -necessity--" - -"Vincent Harris," said the young widow, solemnly, "I perceive the seeds -of a rabid Toryism beginning to sprout in your young mind. Wouldn't -your father say that the reason for the monstrous condition of affairs -now existing--I don't consider them monstrous; not I; I'm pretty well -content, thank you--but wouldn't he say the reason was simply the -ignorance of the people who produce and the unscrupulous greed of the -other people who take the lion's share of the profits? Of course he -would; and so he wants to educate the producer; and protect him by the -State; and see that he isn't swindled. Go to; thou art Didymus, and an -unbeliever; I suspect Lord Musselburgh has been corrupting you. Tell -me," she said, irrelevantly, "who is the woman with the black curls--I -did not catch her name when she was introduced to me--" - -He was delighted that she showed no sign of returning to that awkward -topic. - -"Goodness gracious me, aunt," said he, glancing in the direction -indicated, where sat an elderly lady, thin and gaunt and pale, with -large lustrous black eyes, and black hair clone up in the fashion of a -generation ago, "do you mean to say you don't know Madame Mikucsek?" - -"Who is Madame--What-is-it?" - -"You never even heard of her!" he exclaimed, in affected astonishment. -"Madame Mikucsek--the discoverer of the Mystery of the East--the -Prophetess of the New Religion--who has her followers and disciples all -over the world--from Syria to the Himalayas--from New York to -Sacramento. Really, aunt, you surprise me: you will be saying next you -never heard of _Bo_." - -"What is Bo--or who is he?" she demanded, impatiently. - -"_Bo_," he repeated, as if he were too puzzled by her appalling -ignorance to be able to explain, "why, _Bo_--_Bo_ is the equivalent of -the Chinese _Ta_. It is the principle of life; it is the beginning and -the end of all things; it is the condition of the soul--and yet not -quite the condition of the soul, for the soul can live outside _Bo_ -until the miracle of initiation happens. Then the soul is received into -_Bo_, and finds that the present is non-existent, and that only the past -and the future exist, the future being really the past, when once the -soul has entered _Bo_--" - -"Vin, I believe you are making a fool of me," the pretty Mrs. Ellison -said, severely. - -"Oh, I assure you, aunt," he said, with eyes innocent of guile, "it is -the great discovery of the age--the great discovery of all time--the -Sacred--the Ineffable. When you enter into _Bo_ you lose your -individuality--or rather, you never had any individuality--for -individuality was a confusion of thought, a product of the present, and -the present, as I have explained to you, my dear aunt, ceases to exist -when you have entered _Bo_. Did I tell you that _Bo_ is sentient? Yes, -but yet not a being; though there are manifestations, mysterious and -ecstatic; and the disciples write to each other on the first day of each -month, and tell each other what trances they have been in, and what -spiritual joy they have received. These reports are sent to Madame -Mikucsek; and they are published in a journal that circulates among the -initiated; but the phraseology is hieratic, the outside world could make -nothing of it. As for her, she is not expected to reveal anything--what -she experiences transcends human speech, and even human thought--" - -"I saw the woman mopping up gravy with a piece of bread," said Mrs. -Ellison, with frowning eyebrows. - -"_Bo_," continued the young man, very seriously, "as far as I have been -able to make it out, consists of a vast sphere; elliptical, however: the -zenith containing all human aspiration, the base consisting of forgotten -evil. When you once enter this magic circle, you are lost, you are -transformed, you are here and yet not here; to be does not signify to be -but not to be; and not to be is the highest good except not to have -been. _Bo_, when once you have received the consecration, and bathed in -the light, and perceived the altitudes and the essential deeps and -cognisances--" - -"Ought to be written Bosh," said she, briefly. "I will not hear any more -of that nonsense. And I believe you are only humbugging me: Madame -What's-her-name looks more like the widow of a French Communist. Now -listen to me, Vin, for I am going away to-morrow. I am glad I was -mistaken about the actress; but take care; don't get into scrapes. I -shan't be happy till I see you married. Ordinarily a man should not -marry until he is thirty or five-and-thirty--if he is five-and-forty so -much the better--but even at five-and-thirty, he may have acquired a -little judgment; he may be able to tell how much honesty there is in the -extreme amiability and unselfishness and simplicity that a young woman -can assume, or whether she is likely to turn out an ill-conditioned, -cross-grained, and sulking brute. Oh, you needn't laugh: it's no -laughing matter, as you'll find out, my young friend. But you--you are -different; you are no schoolboy; you've seen the world--too much of it, -for you've learnt disrespect for your elders, and try to bamboozle them -with accounts of sham systems of philosophy or religion or whatever it -is. I say you ought to marry young; but not an elderly woman, as many a -young man does, for money or position. Good gracious, no! You'll have -plenty of money; your father isn't just yet going to sell this silver -dinner-service--which I detest, for it always looks more greasy than -china, and besides you feel as if you were scoring it with the edge of -your knife all the time--I say he isn't going to sell his silver and -distribute unto the poor just yet. As for position, you've got to make -that for yourself: would you owe it to your wife? Very well," proceeded -his pretty monitress, in her easy and prattling fashion; "come down to -Brighton for a week or two. I will ask the Drexel girls; you will have -them all to yourself, to pick and choose from, but Louie is my -favourite. You have no idea how delightful Brighton is in June--the -inland drives are perfect, so cool and shaded with trees, when you know -where to go, that is. If you come down I'll make up a party and take -you all to Ascot: Mrs. Bourke has offered me her house for the -week--isn't that good-natured, when she could easily have let it?--and I -have to telegraph yes or no to-morrow. I hadn't intended going myself; -but if you say you will come down, I will accept; and I know I can get -the Drexel girls." - -"It is so kind of you, aunt; so very kind," he said; "but I really can't -get away. You know I don't care much about racing-- - -"But Louie Drexel isn't racing." - -"I'm very sorry, but you must excuse me, aunt," he said contritely. - -"Oh--distribution of wealth--supply and demand--sugar-bounties and -blue-books--is that it? Well, well, what the young men of the present -day are coming to--" - -She could say no more; for at this moment her neighbour, an elderly and -learned gentleman from Oxford, addressed her. He had not hitherto -uttered a word, having paid strict attention to every dish and every -wine (albeit he was a lean and famished-looking person); but now he -remarked that the evenings were hot for the middle of June. He spoke of -the danger of having recourse to iced fluids. Then he went on to -compare the bathing of the Greeks and Romans with the ablutions of the -English--until he was offered strawberries, whereupon, having helped -himself largely, he fell into a business-like silence again. - -When at length the ladies had gone upstairs, Lord Musselburgh came and -took the seat just vacated by Mrs. Ellison. - -"I have a commission from your father, Vin," said he. "I am to persuade -you of the sweet reasonableness of his project--that you should for a -time become the private secretary of Mr. Ogden." - -"The private secretary of a man who hasn't an _h_!" retorted Master Vin, -with scorn. - -"What has that to do with it?" the young nobleman said, coolly. "No. -After all, there is something in what your father says. He believes -that the next great political and social movement will be the -emancipation of the wage-earner--the securing to the producer his fair -share of the products of his labour. If that is so, it will be a big -thing. It will be years before it comes off, no doubt; but then there -will be a great wave of public opinion; and if you are prepared--if you -are there--if you are identified with this tremendous social revolution, -why, that magnificent wave will peacefully and calmly lift you into the -Cabinet. I think that's about his notion. Very well. If you are -willing to take up this work, how could you begin better than by -becoming private secretary to Josiah Ogden? There you would come into -direct touch with the masses; you would get to know at first hand what -they are thinking of, what they are hoping for; subsequently, you could -speak with authority. Then there's another thing, Vin. If you want to -become a figure in public life in England, if you want to build a -splendid monument for yourself, you should begin at the base. Capture -the multitude; be as red-hot a Radical as they can desire; and they -won't mind what you do afterwards. You may accept office; you may be -petted by Royalty; but they will rather like it--they will look on it as -a compliment paid to one of themselves. And that is where Ogden would -come in. He, too, is one of themselves--though he has his hired -brougham when he comes to town, and his big dinners at the Menagerie -Club. What have you got to do with his _h_'s? If I want to back a -horse, or order a pair of boots, or have my hair cut, what does it -matter to me whether the man has an _h_, or a superfluity of _h_'s? You -make him useful to you; you get what you want; isn't that enough?" - -"Oh, no, it is not," Vincent rejoined--but respectfully, for he never -forgot that Lord Musselburgh was his senior by very nearly five years. -"You see, you don't go into partnership with your hairdresser, and you -don't put your name over the bootmaker's shop. And I shouldn't learn -much from Mr. Ogden, for I don't believe in his machine-made -politics--everything to be done by committees, and resolutions, and -majorities. I expect to find him starting a Society for the Suppression -of Punch and Judy Shows, so that the infantile mind of England may not -be corrupted by exhibitions of brutality." - -"He is a very able man, let me tell you that," said Musselburgh, with -decision. "And a capital speaker--a slogger, of course, but that is -wanted for big crowds. And sometimes he turns out a neat thing. Did -you notice what he said at Sheffield the other day--telling the working -men not to be too grateful for rich men's charities--for recreation -grounds, drinking fountains, and the like? What he said was this--'When -the capitalist has robbed Peter, it is easy for him to salve his -conscience by throwing a crust to Paul'--not bad. I think you might do -worse, Vin, than become Ogden's private secretary. Pretty hard work, of -course; but the modern young man, in politics, is supposed to be -thoroughly in earnest: if he isn't he will have to reckon with the -evening papers, for they don't like to be trifled with." - -The subject was not a grateful one, apparently; Vincent changed it. - -"Do you remember," he said, with some little diffidence, "that--that I -was in your house one afternoon a few weeks ago when an old gentleman -called--and--and his granddaughter--" - -"The perfervid old Scotchman--yes!" - -"How did you come to know him?" the young man asked, with downcast eyes. - -"I hardly recollect. Let me see. I think he first of all wrote to me, -enclosing a note of introduction he had brought from a friend of mine in -New York--a brother Scot. Then, as you saw, he called, and told me -something further about a book he is going to bring out; and I gave him -some little assistance--I don't think he is above accepting a few -sovereigns from any one to help him on his way through the world." - -Vin Harris flushed hotly--and he raised his head and looked his friend -straight in the face as he put the next question. - -"But--but he is a gentleman!--his name--his family--even his bearing--" - -"Oh, yes, yes, I suppose so," Lord Musselburgh said, lightly. "Poor old -fellow, I was glad to lend him a helping hand. I think his enthusiasm, -his patriotism, was genuine; and it is a thing you don't often meet with -nowadays." - -"Yes--but--but---" Vincent said, with a good deal of embarrassment, and -yet with some touch of half-indignant remonstrance, "the money you gave -him--that was to aid him in bringing out the book, wasn't it?" - -"Certainly, certainly!" the other made answer--he did not happen to -notice the expression on his friend's face. "Something about -Scotland--Scotch poetry--I think when he wrote he said something about a -dedication, but that is an honour I hardly covet." - -"In any case," observed the young man, "you have no right to say he -would accept money from--from anyone--from a stranger." - -Then Lord Musselburgh did look up--struck by something in his -companion's tone. - -"Did I say that? I'm sure I don't know. Of course it was on account of -the book that I ventured to give him some little help--oh, yes, -certainly--I should not have ventured otherwise. If he had been -offended, I dare say he would have said so; but I fancy the old -gentleman has had to overcome his pride before now. He seems to have -led a curious, wandering life. By the way, Vin, weren't you very much -impressed by the young lady--I remember your saying something--" - -Fortunately there was no need for Vincent to answer this question; for -now there began a general movement on the part of the remaining guests -to go upstairs to the drawing-room; and in this little bit of a bustle -he escaped from further cross-examination. - -When at the end of the evening all the people had gone away, and when -Harland Harris had shut himself up in his study to finish his -correspondence--for he was going down the next morning to a Congress of -Co-operative Societies at Ipswich--Mrs. Ellison and her nephew found -themselves alone in the drawing-room; and the fair young widow must -needs return to the subject she had been discoursing upon at -dinner--namely, that this young man, in order to guard against pitfalls -and embroilments, should get married forthwith. - -"You seem anxious that I should marry," said he, bluntly; "why don't you -get married yourself?" - -"Oh, no, thank you!" she replied, with promptitude. "I know when I have -had--" Apparently she was on the point of saying that she knew when she -had had enough; but that would not have been complimentary to the memory -of the deceased; so she abruptly broke off--and then resumed. "It isn't -necessary for me to make any further experiments in life; but for you, -with such a splendid future before you, it is a necessity. As for me, I -mean to let well alone. And it is well--very well. I do believe, Vin, -that I am the only woman on this earth--" - -"What?" he said. - -"--who is really contented. I am too happy. Sometimes I'm afraid; it -seems as if I had no right to it. Why, when I come downstairs in the -morning, and draw an easy-chair to the open windows--especially when -there is a breeze coming off the sea, and the sun-blinds are out, and -the balcony nicely shaded, you know--I mean at home, in Brunswick -Terrace--well, when I take up the newspaper and begin to read about -what's going on--as if it was all some kind of a distant thing--I feel -so satisfied with the quiet and the coolness and the sea-air that I am -bound to do a little kindness to somebody, and so I turn to the columns -where appeals are made for charity. I don't care what it is; I'm so -well content that I must give something to somebody--distressed Irish -widows, sailors' libraries, days in the country, anything. I dare say I -sometimes give money where I shouldn't; but how am I to know?--and at -any rate it pleases me." - -"But why shouldn't you be happy, aunt?" said the young man. "You are so -good-humoured, and so kind, and so nice to look at, that it is no wonder -you are such a favourite, with men especially." - -"Oh, yes," she said, frankly. "Men are always nice to you--except the -one you happen to marry; and I'm not going to spoil the situation. At -present they're all sweetness, and that suits me: I'm not going to give -any one of them the chance of showing himself an ungrateful brute. When -I come downstairs at Brighton, I like to see only one cup on the -breakfast-table, and to feel that I have the whole room to myself. -Selfish?--then you can make amends by sending something to the -Children's Hospital or the People's Palace or something of that kind." - -"Do you know, aunt," he observed, gravely, "what Mr. Ogden says of you? -He says that, having robbed Peter, you try to salve your conscience by -throwing a crust to Paul." - -"When did I rob Peter?--what Peter?" she said, indignantly. - -"You are a capitalist--you have more than your own share--you possess -what you do not work for--therefore you are a robber and a plunderer. I -am sorry for you, aunt; but Mr. Ogden has pronounced your doom-- - -"Mr. Ogden----!" she said, with angry brows--and then she stopped. - -"Yes, aunt?" he said, encouragingly. - -"Oh, nothing. But I tell you this, Vin. You were talking of the proper -distribution of wealth. Well, when you come to marry, and if I approve -of the girl, I mean to distribute a little of my plunder--of my -ill-gotten gains--in that direction: she shan't come empty-handed. That -is, if I approve of her, you understand. And the best thing you can do -is to alter your mind and come down to Brighton for a week or two; and -I'll send for the Drexel girls and perhaps one or two more. If you -can't just at present, you may later on. Now I'm going off to my room; -and I'll say good-bye as well as good-night; for I don't suppose I shall -see you in the morning. - -"Good-night, then, and good-bye, aunt!" said he, as he held her hand for -a second; and that was the last that he saw of her for some considerable -time. - -For a great change was about to take place in this young man's position -and circumstances, in his interests, and ambitions, and trembling hopes. -He was about to enter wonderland--that so many have entered, stealthily -and almost fearing--that so many remember, and perhaps would fain -forget. Do any remain in that mystic and rose-hued region? Some, at -least, have never even approached it; for its portals are not easily -discoverable, are not discoverable at all, indeed, except by the twin -torches of imagination and abolition of self. - -When he went up to his chambers the next morning he was surprised to -find a card lying on the table; he had not expected a visitor in this -secluded retreat. And when he glanced at the name, he was still more -perturbed. What an opportunity he had missed! Perhaps Mr. Bethune had -brought an informal little invitation for him--the first overture of -friendliness? He might have spent the evening in the hushed, small -parlour over the way, with those violin strains vibrating through the -dusk; or, with the lights ablaze, he might have sate and listened to the -old man's tales of travel, while Maisrie Bethune would be sitting at her -needle-work, but looking up from time to time--each glance a world's -wonder! And what had he had in exchange?--a vapid dinner-party; some -talk about socialism; an invitation that he should descend into the -catacombs of North of England politics and labour mole-like there to no -apparent end; finally, a promise that if he would only marry the young -lady of Mrs. Ellison's choice--presumably one of her American -friends--his bride should have some additional dowry to recommend her. -What were all those distant schemes, and even the brilliant future that -everybody seemed to prophesy for him, to the bewildering possibilities -that were almost within his reach? He went to the window. The pots of -musk, and lobelia, and ox-eye daisies, in the little balcony over there, -and also the Virginia creeper intertwisting its sprays through the iron -bars, seemed fresh: no doubt she had sprinkled them with water before -leaving with her grandfather. And had they gone to Hyde Park as usual? -He was sorely tempted to go in search; but something told him this might -provoke suspicions; so he resolutely hauled in a chair to the table and -set to work with his books and annotations--though sometimes there came -before his eyes a nebulous vision, as of a sheet of silver-grey water -and a shimmering of elms. - -In the afternoon he went out and bought a clothes-brush, a couple of -hair-brushes, some scented soap, and other toilet requisites--of which -he had not hitherto known the need in these chambers; and about five -o'clock or a little thereafter, having carefully removed the last speck -from his coat-sleeve, he crossed the way, and rather timidly knocked at -the door. It was opened by the landlady's daughter, who appeared at -once surprised and pleased on finding who this visitor was. - -"Is Mr. Bethune at home?" he demanded--with some vaguely uncomfortable -feeling that this damsel's eyes looked too friendly. She seemed to -understand everything--to have been expecting him. - -"Oh, yes, sir." - -"May I go upstairs?" - -He gave no name; but she did not hesitate for a moment. She led the way -upstairs; she tapped lightly; and in answer to Mr. Bethune's loud "Come -in!" she opened the door, and said-- - -"The young gentleman, sir,"--a form of announcement that might have -struck Vincent as peculiar if he had not been much too occupied to -notice. - -"Ah, how do you do--how do you do?" old George Bethune (who was alone) -called out, and he pushed aside his book and came forward with extended -hand. "Nothing like being neighbourly; solitary units in the great sea -of London life have naturally some interest in each other: you would -gather that I looked in on you last night--" - -"Yes," said the young man, as he took the proffered chair. "I am very -sorry I happened to be out--I had to dine at home last evening--" - -"At home?" repeated Mr. Bethune, looking for the moment just a trifle -puzzled. - -"Oh, yes," said his visitor, rather nervously. "Perhaps I didn't -explain. I don't _live_ over there, you know. I only have the rooms -for purposes of study; the place is so quiet I can get on better than at -home; there are no interruptions--" - -"Except a little violin-playing?" the old man suggested, good-naturedly. - -"I wish there were more of that, sir," Vincent observed, respectfully. -"That was only in the evenings; and I used to wait for it, to tell you -the truth, as a kind of unintentional reward after my day's work. But -of late I have heard nothing; I hope that Miss Bethune was not offended -that I ventured to--to open my piano at the same time--" - -"Oh, not at all--I can hardly think so," her grandfather said, airily. -"She also has been busy with her books of late--it is Dante, I believe, -at present--and as I insist on her always reading aloud, whatever the -language is, she goes upstairs to her own room; so that I haven't seen -much of her in the evenings. Now may I offer you a cigar?" - -"No, thank you." - -"Or a glass of claret?" - -"No, thanks." - -"Then tell me what your studies are, that we may become better -acquainted." - -And Vincent was about to do that when the door behind him opened. -Instinctively he rose and turned. The next instant Maisrie Bethune was -before him--looking taller, he thought, than he had, in Hyde Park, -imagined her to be. She saluted him gravely and without embarrassment; -perhaps she had been told of his arrival; it was he who was, for the -moment, somewhat confused, and anxious to apologise and explain. But, -curiously enough, that was only a passing phase. When once he had -realised that she also was in the room--not paying much attention, -perhaps, but listening when she chose, as she attended to some flowers -she had brought for the central table--all his embarrassment fled, and -his natural buoyancy and confidence came to his aid. She, on her side, -seemed to consider that she was of no account; that she was not called -upon to interfere in this conversation between her grandfather and his -guest. When she had finished with the flowers, she went to the open -window, and took her seat, opening out some needlework she had carried -thither. The young man could see she had beautiful hands--rather long, -perhaps, but exquisitely formed: another wonder! But the truly -extraordinary thing--the enchantment--was that here he was in the same -room with her, likely to become her friend, and already privileged to -speak so that she could hear! - -For of course he was aware that he had an audience of two; and very well -he talked, in his half-excited mood. There was no more timidity; there -was a gay self-assertion--a desire to excel and shine; sometimes he -laughed, and his laugh was musical. He had skillfully drawn from the -old man a confession of political faith (of course he was a -Conservative, as became one of the Bethunes of Balloray), so all chance -of collision was avoided on that point; and indeed Vin Harris was ready -to have sworn that black was white, so eager was he to make an -impression, on this his first, and wondrous visit. - -The time went by all too quickly; but the young man had become -intoxicated by this unexpected joy; instead of getting up and -apologising, and taking his hat, and going away, he boldly threw out the -suggestion that these three--these solitary units in the great sea of -London life, as George Bethune had called them--should determine to -spend the evening together. He did not seem to be aware of the audacity -of his proposal; he was carrying everything before him in a high-handed -fashion; the touch of colour that rose to Maisrie Bethune's cheek--what -of that? Oh, yes, maiden shyness, no doubt; but of little consequence; -here were the golden moments--here the golden opportunity: why should -they separate? - -"You see," said he, "I don't care to inconvenience our people at home by -my uncertain hours; and so of late I have taken to dining at a -restaurant, just when I felt inclined; and I have got to know something -of the different places. I think we might go out for a little stroll, -as the evening will be cooler now, and wander on until we see a quiet -and snug-looking corner. There is something in freedom of choice; and -you may catch sight of a bay window, or of a recess with flowers in it, -and a bit of a fountain that tempts the eye--" - -"What do you say, Maisrie?" the old gentleman inquired. - -"You go, grandfather," the girl replied at once, but without raising her -head. "It will be a pleasant change for you. I would rather remain at -home." - -"Oh, but I should never have proposed such a thing," Vincent interposed, -hastily, "if it meant that Miss Bethune was to be left here alone, -certainly not! I--I decline to be a party to any such arrangement--oh, -I could not think of such a thing!" - -"You'd better come, Maisrie," said the old man, with some air of -authority. - -"Very well, grandfather," she said, obediently; and straightway she rose -and left the room. - -Master Vin's heart beat high; here were wonders upon wonders; in a short -space he would be walking along the pavements of London town with -Maisrie Bethune by his side (or practically so) and thereafter he and -she would be seated at the same table, almost within touch of each -other. Would the wide world get to hear of this marvellous thing? -Would the men and women whom they encountered in Oxford-street observe -and conjecture, and perhaps pass on with some faint vision of that -beautiful and pensive face imprinted on their memory? By what magic -freak of fortune had he came to be so favoured? Those people in -Oxford-street were all strangers to her, and would remain strangers; he -alone would be admitted to the sacred privacies of her companionship and -society; but a few minutes more, and he would be instructing himself in -her little ways and preferences, each one a happy secret to be kept -wholly to himself. But the entranced young man was hardly prepared for -what now followed. When the door opened again, and Maisrie Bethune -reappeared (her eyes were averted from him, and there was a -self-conscious tinge of colour in her pale and thoughtful face) she -seemed to have undergone some sudden transformation. The youthful look -lent to her appearance by the long and loose-flowing locks and by her -plain dress of blue and white linen had gone; and here was a young lady -apparently about twenty, tall, self-possessed (notwithstanding that -tinge of colour) and grave in manner. A miracle had been wrought!--and -yet she had only plaited up her hair, tying it with a bit of blue -ribbon, and donned a simple costume of cream-coloured cashmere. She was -putting on her gloves now; and he thought that long hands were by far -the most beautiful of any. - -Well, it was all a bewilderment--this walking along the London streets -under the pale saffron of the evening sky, listening to the old man's -emphatic monologue, but far more intent on warning Miss Bethune of the -approach of a cab, when she was about to cross this or the other -thoroughfare. Once he touched her arm in his anxiety to check her; he -had not intended to do so; and it was he who was thunderstruck and -ashamed; she did not appear to have noticed. And then again he was -afraid lest she should be tired before they reached the particular -restaurant he had in mind; to which old George Bethune replied that his -granddaughter did not know what fatigue was; he and she could walk for a -whole day, strolling through the parks or along the streets, with -absolute ease and comfort, as became vagrants and world-wanderers. - -"Though I am not so sure it is altogether good for Maisrie here," he -continued. "It may be that that has kept her thin--she is too thin for -a young lass. She is all spirit; she has no more body than a daddy -long-legs." - -Vincent instantly offered to call a cab--which they refused; but he was -not beset by wild alarms; he knew that, however slight she might be, the -natural grace and elegance of her carriage could only be the outcome of -a symmetrical form in conjunction with elastic health. That conclusion -he had arrived at in the Park; but now he noticed another thing--that, -as she walked, the slightly-swaying arms had the elbow well in to the -waist, and the wrist turned out, and that quite obviously without set -purpose. It was a pretty movement; but it was more than merely -graceful; it was one mark of a well-balanced figure, even as was her -confident step. For her step could be confident enough, and the set of -her head proud enough--if she mostly kept her eyes to the ground. - -It was an Italian restaurant they entered at last; and Vincent was so -fortunate as to find a recess-compartment, which he knew of, vacant. -They were practically dining in a private room; but all the same they -could when they chose glance out upon the large saloon, with its little -white tables, and its various groups of olive-complexioned or -English-complexioned guests. The young man assumed the management of -this small festivity from the outset. He ordered a flask of Chianti for -Mr. Bethune and himself; and then he would have got something -lighter--some sparkling beverage--for the young lady, but that she told -him that she drank no wine. Why, he said to himself, he might have -known!-- - - 'for in her veins - Ran blood as pure and cool as summer rains.' - -And as this modest little repast went on, perhaps Vincent was comparing -it with the banquet of the night before. Ah, there had been no -enhancement, no enthralling ecstacy and delight, about that -entertainment, sumptuous as it was. Here was some food--he hardly -looked at it--he did not know what it was, and did not care--which would -have to be paid for at the rate of 3/6 per head; but as compared with -this frugal festivity, the splendours of the preceding evening--the -masses of roses, the pyramids of ice, the silver candelabra, and all the -rest--shrank into insignificance. 'Here there was a nameless glamour -filling all the air; a palpitation of hope, and a curious dumb sense of -gratitude as if for favours unexpected and undeserved; all the coming -years of his life seemed to be shining there in her eyes--so that he -hardly dared to look, so full of fear, and yet of a breathless joy and -wonder, was the revelation, when she happened to glance towards him. -And on her side, she appeared to be a little less reserved and distant -than she had hitherto been. She seemed grateful for the trouble the -young man had taken on behalf of her grandfather and herself; sometimes, -when in his eager talk he said something that interested her, she raised -her head, with a smile in her eyes. A wonderful banquet, truly, though -not so imposing as that of the previous night. He learned that she was -immensely fond of propelling a gondola (the forward oar only; she wanted -another oar astern to steer) and here was another amazingly interesting -fact, to be for ever and ever remembered. - -As for the old man (for the world was not created solely for young folk) -he was at once gay and oracular. - -"These little breaks and diversions," he was saying, as he stirred his -coffee--the time of cigarettes having now arrived, "are useful -things--useful things; an affair of the moment, truly; but the wise man -makes of the passing moment as much as he possibly can. Why, the real -curse of modern life--the ineradicable disease--is the habit of -continually looking before and after. We none of us think enough of the -present moment; we are anxiously speculating as to the future; or, what -is worse still, fretting over the memory of past injuries and past -mistakes. That is where the uneducated, the unimaginative, have their -consolation; we are not half so happy and content as the stolid -ploughman or the phlegmatic bricklayer who thinks only of the present -heat, or the present cold, or, at furthest, of the next pint of beer, -and of the prospect of getting to bed, with the knowledge that he will -sleep sound. The actual and immediate things before them are the things -that interest them; not the unknown future, or the useless past. But I -have schooled myself, thanks in a great measure to Horace--and my -granddaughter knows her Horace too--and I think I keep as stout a heart -as most. _Dum loquimur_, of course, _fugerit invida aetas_; but even -while I know that the night presses down upon me, and the shadowy -fathers, and the empty halls of Pluto, I put the knowledge away from me; -I am content with the present moment; I am more than content, for -example, with this very excellent cigarette--" - -"Would you allow me to send you a few boxes?" interposed Vincent, at -once and eagerly. "I think the cork mouthpiece is a great improvement. -I know where they are to be got. May I send you some?" - -"I thank you; but they are not much in my way," the old man said, with a -certain loftiness of demeanour. "As I was remarking, the time has gone -by for unavailing regrets over what has been done to me and mine. I -think I may say that throughout we have shown a bold front. '_Stand -fast, Craig-Royston!_' has not been our watchword for nothing. And as -for the future--why, 'to the gods belongs to-morrow!' The anticipation -of evil will not remove it: the recalling of bygone injuries provides no -compensation. 'The present moment is our ain; the neist we never saw;' -and so, as we have had a pleasant evening so far, I think we may as well -get away home again; and, Maisrie, you will get out your violin, and -we'll have some Scotch songs, and my young friend and I will taste just -a drop of Scotch whisky; and if there's any better combination than that -in the world, I do not know of it." - -But here a very awkward incident occurred. Old George Bethune, in his -grand manner, called to the waiter to bring the bill. Now Vincent had -intended to steal out and arrange this little matter without allowing -the young lady to have any cognisance of it; but of course the waiter, -when summoned, came up to the table, and proceeded to pencil out the -account. - -"I think, sir," put in the young man, modestly, "you'd better let me -have that. It was my proposal, you know." - -"Oh, very well," said Mr. Bethune, carelessly; and as carelessly he -handed over the slip of paper he had just taken from the waiter. - -But the quick look of pain and humiliation that swept over the girl's -face stabbed the young man to the heart. - -"Grandfather!" she said, with a burning flush. - -"Oh, well," her grandfather said, petulantly; "I have just discovered -that I have left my purse behind. Some other time--it is all the -same--it is immaterial--the next time will be my turn--" - -"Here is my purse, grandfather," she said; and she turned with an air of -quiet firmness to her younger neighbour, and merely said "If you -please!" He was too bewildered to refuse: there was something in her -manner that compelled him to accede without a word of protest. She -pushed her purse and the slip of paper across the table to her -grandfather; and then she rose, and turned to seek her sun-shade, which -Vincent forthwith brought to her. The curious mingling of simplicity -and dignity with which she had interposed impressed him strangely: -perhaps she was not so much of a school-girl as she had seemed when he -first saw her walking through Hyde Park? Then the three of them left -the restaurant together; and quietly made their way home through the -gathering twilight. - -But he would not go in when they arrived at their door, though the old -man again put Scotch music and Scotch whisky before him as an -inducement. Perhaps he dreaded to outstay his welcome. He bade them both -good-night; and Maisrie Bethune, as she parted from him, was so kind as -to say "Thank you so much!" with the briefest, timid glance of her -all-too-eloquent eyes. - -He went across to his own rooms--merely for form's sake. He did not -light the gas when he got upstairs. He carefully shut the window; then -he sate down to the piano; and very gently and quietly he played a -graceful little air. It was "_Dormez, dormez, ma belle!_"; and it was a -kind of farewell message for the night; but he had made sure that she -should not hear. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - - QU' MON COEUR EN MARIAGE. - - -When Maisrie Bethune and her grandfather returned home after the little -dinner at the restaurant she went upstairs to her own room, while he -proceeded to summon the landlady's husband from the lower deeps. -Forthwith the pallid-faced and nervous-eyed Hobson appeared; and he -seemed to be more obsequious than ever towards the great man who had -deigned to patronise his humble literary efforts, and had even got some -of his verses printed in the Edinburgh _Weekly Chronicle_. - -"Very hot evening, sir--yes, sir--would you like me to go and fetch you -a little hice, sir?" said he, in his eager desire to please. "No -trouble, sir, if agreeable to you--remarkably 'ot for June, -sir--theatres doing nothing, sir--only the ballet: you see, sir, the -young ladies have so little on that they look cool and airy-like, and I -suppose, sir, that's why the ballet is so popular--yes, sir, my -brother-in-law, the theatrical agent--" - -"Look here, Hobson," Mr. Bethune observed, as if he had not heard a -word, "you have no doubt noticed a young gentleman who occupies rooms -over the way?" - -"Oh, yes, sir--a very handsome young man," he answered--or rather, what -he actually did say was "a werry ensome young men." - -"I have just made his acquaintance." Mr. Bethune continued, in his -lofty fashion, "and naturally I should like to know something more of -him, though I could not be guilty of the rudeness of asking him -questions about himself. For example, I should be glad to know where he -lives--he only uses those rooms during the day, you understand; and I -presume that would be a simple thing for you to ascertain--discreetly, I -mean, discreetly--without any impertinent intrusion." - -"Oh, yes, sir," said Hobson, his dull face lighting up with pleasure at -the notion of being able to do his patron a service. "Yes, yes, sir; I -can find out; what more simple?" - -At this very moment there was the sound of a door being shut on the -opposite side of the street. Hobson stepped to the open window; and -instantly withdrew his head again. - -"He has just gone out, sir--I will follow him." - -"But discreetly, Hobson, discreetly," was the old gentleman's final -injunction, as his humble and zealous emissary departed. - -When Maisrie Bethune came downstairs again, she was in her ordinary -dress of striped linen; and she seemed pleased with the evening's -adventure; and was more talkative than usual. - -"It will be very pleasant for you, grandfather," said she, "to have so -intelligent and interesting a neighbour--don't you think so? For though -he is young, he seems to know everything, and to have been everywhere; -and I am sure, you and he, grandfather, found plenty of things to talk -about. I have just been wondering whether it is possible he could have -come to Toronto while we were living there. Wouldn't that have been -strange? Perhaps we have passed him while we were walking along -King-street; perhaps he may have come round the corner by the Bank of -Montreal when we were going into Yonge-street--and not a yard between -us! But no," she continued, musingly, "I hardly imagine it could have -been. I think I should have noticed him, and remembered. Don't you -think you would have noticed him, grandfather? He is not like any one -else--I mean he is not the kind of person you would pass in the street -without remarking--I don't think you would forget. Oh, yes, I am very -glad for your sake, grandfather, that you have made his acquaintance; -and I hope you will become good friends--although he is young. You want -some one to talk to--and not that dreadful Hobson--I can't bear your -talking to Hobson, grandfather--" - -"I am no respecter of persons, Maisrie," said the old man, pompously, -"so long as people know their place, and keep it." - -"But that is just the worst of Hobson, grandfather!" she exclaimed. -"His fawning and cringing is so despicable. He is not a man at all. -And you should tell him the truth about those verses of his, -grandfather: I can't imagine how you see anything in them--" - -"There have been worse--there have been worse," said Mr. Bethune, with a -magnanimous toleration. "And on the two occasions on which I got the -_Chronicle_ to let him see himself in print, the gratitude of the poor -creature was quite pathetic. A little act of kindness is never thrown -away, Maisrie, my dear. So now you'll just get out your violin, and for -a little while we will cross the Border, and forget that we are here in -the heart of this stifling London." - -But Maisrie begged to be excused. She said she was rather tired, and -was going back to her own room very soon. And indeed, when she had -brought her grandfather his accustomed hot water, and sugar, and -spirits, and generally made everything comfortable for him, she kissed -him and bade him good night and went away upstairs. - -It was not to go to bed, however. Having lit the gas, she proceeded to -hunt among her books until she discovered a little album entitled "Views -of Toronto;" and having spread that open on her dressing-table, she drew -in a chair, and, with her elbows resting on the table, and her head -between her hands, began to pore over those pictures of the long -thoroughfares and the pavements and the public buildings. She seemed to -find the rather ill-executed lithographs interesting--so interesting -that we may leave her there with her eyes fixed intently on the brown -pages. - -Meanwhile Hobson had fulfilled his mission, and returned with the -address of the house into which he had seen the young man disappear; and -not only that, but he volunteered to gain any further information that -Mr. Bethune might wish; it would be easy for him, he said, to make the -acquaintance of one of the menservants in Grosvenor Place. - -"Not at all--not at all!" the old man made response, with an affectation -of indifference. "I have no wish to pry. Indeed, I cannot say that I -have any particular curiosity in the matter. And you need not mention -to any one that I know even as much as that. I cannot recall now what -made me ask--a momentary impulse--nothing of any consequence--for in -truth it matters little to me where the young man lives. Well, -good-night, Hobson--and thank you." - -"Good-night, sir," said Hobson, with his eyes dwelling lingeringly on -the hot water and whisky. But he received no invitation (for old George -Bethune was more amenable to his granddaughter's remonstrances than he -himself was aware) and so, with another effusive "_Good_-night!" the -landlady's husband humbly withdrew. - -Sometimes, after Maisrie had gone to bed, or, at least, retired to her -own room, her grandfather would wander away out in the streets by -himself. The night air was cool; there were fewer passers-by to impede -his aimless peregrinations; sheltered by the dark and the dull -lamp-light, he could lift up his voice and sing "London's bonnie woods -and braes," or "Cam' ye by Athol," or "There's nae Covenant now, -lassie," when he happened to be in the mood, as he generally was. And -on this particular evening he sallied forth; but the straight-forward -direction of his steps showed that he had an objective point. He went -along Oxford-street, and down Regent-street; and eventually, by way of -Garrick-street, Covent Garden, and the Strand, reached Fleet-street, -where he stopped at a building almost wholly consisting of offices of -country newspapers. At this time of the night the place was at its -busiest--a hive of industry: messengers coming and going, the operators -assiduous at the special wires, the London correspondents constructing -their letters out of the latest news, with a little imagination thrown -in here and there to lend colour. Old George Bethune ascended to the -first floor, passed into the premises owned by the Edinburgh _Chronicle_ -(_Daily_ and _Weekly_) and was admitted to an inner room, where he found -Mr. Courtnay Fox. Now Mr. Fox--a heavy and somewhat ungainly person, -who rolled from side to side as he crossed the room, and whose small -blue eyes twinkled behind his spectacles with a sort of easy and ready -sarcasm--did not like being interrupted; but, on the other hand, Mr. -Bethune was a friend, or at least a favoured acquaintance, of the chief -proprietor of the _Chronicle_, and the London correspondent was -therefore bound to be civil; so he asked the old man what he could do -for him. - -"If you have anything for the _Weekly_," he observed, "you'd much better -send it on direct to Edinburgh, instead of sending it down here. That -will save one postage--a point which I should have thought would occur -to a Scotch mind," he added, with a bit of a half-concealed grin. - -"You are always girding at Scotland, Mr. Fox," George Bethune said, -good-naturedly. - -"I? Oh, not I. I'm sure no one admires the virtues of economy and -frugality more than I do. That is why I am pretty certain Shakespeare -must have lived in Scotland--I don't mean 'The rain it raineth every -day'--but 'a tanner will last you nine year.' Now how could he have -learned that money could be made to go so far but by observation of the -Scotch?" - -"I know this," said the old man, with some dignity, "that few have seen -so much of the world as I have, in various countries and climes; and the -most generous and hospitable people--generous and hospitable to the -point of extravagance--I have ever met with have invariably been the -Scotch. It may suit you to revile the country from which you get your -living--" - -"Oh, I meant nothing so serious, I assure you," the ponderous journalist -said at once. "Come, tell me what I can do for you." - -"I should like to look at the Post Office Directory first, if I may." - -Courtnay Fox waddled across the room and returned with the heavy volume: -Mr. Bethune turned to the street and number that had been furnished him -by his spy, and discovered that the name given was Harland Harris--no -doubt Vincent Harris's father. - -"Ah, yes," the old man said. "Now I can tell you what I want; and I am -certain I have come to the right place for information. For while you -revile my countrymen, Mr. Fox, because you don't know them, I wonder -whom amongst your own countrymen--who have any position at all--you -don't know?" - -This was an adroit piece of flattery: for it was a foible of the fat -correspondent to affect that he knew everybody--and knew no good of -anybody. - -"Of course the man I mean may be a nobody--or a nonentity--and a very -respectable person as well," continued Mr. Bethune, "but his son, whose -acquaintance I have made, talks as if his name were familiar to the -public. Mr. Harland Harris--" - -"Harland Harris!" the journalist exclaimed--but with much complacency, -for he might have been found wanting. "Don't you know Harland -Harris?--or, at least, haven't you heard of him?" - -"I have lived much out of England," the old man said. - -"And you want me to tell you who and what Harland Harris is? Is that -it? Well, then, I will. To begin with," proceeded Mr. Courtnay Fox, -with a baleful light in his small twinkling eyes, "he is a solemn and -portentous ass--a pedantic prig--a combination of a drill sergeant and a -schoolmaster, with the self-sufficiency of--of--I don't know what. He -is an enormously wealthy man--who preaches the Divine Beauty of Poverty; -a socialist--who would abolish the income-tax, and have all taxation -indirect; a Communist--who can eat only off gold plate. This sham Jean -Jacques would not only abandon his children, he would let the whole -human race go to the mischief, as long as you left him on a pinnacle, -with a M.S. lecture in his hand. Harland Harris! Do you want to know -any more? Well, I will tell you this, that long ago his vanity would -have inflated and burst him only that he was defeated in his candidature -for the Lord Rectorship of Edinburgh University--and that let out a -little of the gas. But even now his inconsistencies are -colossal--almost a madness; I think he must be drunk with a sense of his -own superiority, as George Sand says--" - -"He does not seem to have made a very favourable impression on you," -said Mr. Bethune slowly and thoughtfully. - -"Did he ever on any human being?" the other retorted. "Not any one that -ever I heard of!" - -"And his son--do you know anything of him?" - -Mr. Courtnay Fox was not likely to admit that he knew nothing. - -"Oh," said he, scornfully, "the _enfant gate_ of the political world. ----- has made a pet of him; and so people imagine there is something in -him. Of course he'll talk for a few years about universal brotherhood -and the advancement of humanity and that kind of stuff; and then, when -he succeeds to his father's money, he'll make a bid for a peerage, or -else marry a widowed and withered Countess, and subside into a solid, -substantial, beef-headed bulwark of the Tory party. That's the way they -all go!" - -"Well, I'm very much obliged," said old George Bethune, rising. "And -sorry to have interrupted you. Good-night--and thanks." - -"Good-night," said the journalist, curtly, as he turned to his desk -again, and its litter of reports and telegrams. - -Next morning, when they were about to set forth on their accustomed -stroll, Maisrie paused at the door for a second, and said--with a very -curious hesitation, and a face grown rose-red-- - -"Grandfather, what shall I tell Mrs. Hobson you would like for dinner?" - -He did not notice her confusion; he answered, carelessly-- - -"Oh, never mind just now. Later on we will see. Food is not of much -importance in this hot weather." - -Thereafter she was silent for some considerable time. It was not until -they had got down to the Serpentine, and when he was about to take out -his newspaper, that she ventured again to address him. - -"Grandfather," she said, timidly, "do you think--Mr. Harris--expects -us--expects that we should dine together again this evening? He did ask -if we had no engagement--and--and perhaps he may imagine there is some -understanding--" - -"Well, Maisrie," the old man made answer, with a playful irony, "if your -way of it is to be carried out, the arrangement wouldn't last very long. -I don't suppose our little income could comfortably support three for -any great space of time." - -"Oh, but, grandfather," she said, persuasively, "you know it was but -right you should pay; we were two, and he only one; of course, if we -were to dine together again--and he wished it to be his turn--you might -divide--" - -"I think, Maisrie," said he, somewhat sententiously, "it would be better -for you to leave our small financial affairs in my hands. These things -are well understood as between men; it is easy to make an arrangement. -Especially easy if you are the only son of a very wealthy man--what are -a few shillings or a few sovereigns one way or the other to him? And I -wish you to remember that a young lady's purse is not usually produced -at a restaurant." - -"I am sorry if I did anything wrong, grandfather," she said humbly; -"but--but I thought--before a stranger--or almost a stranger--it was a -pity you had forgotten--" - -He had opened the newspaper, so that the subject was dismissed; and -Maisrie was left to her absent dreams and reveries. - -All that day there came no message from the other side of the street; -and likewise the afternoon wore away in silence; while Maisrie, whatever -she hoped or feared, had not again asked her grandfather what -arrangements he proposed for the evening. About six o'clock, however, -there came a rap at the door below. Maisrie was in her room upstairs. -Her grandfather was seated at the little table in the parlour, drawing -out in water-colour a coat of arms; and he had already finished the -Bethune part of it--that is to say, the first and fourth quarters of the -shield were argent, with a fesse between three mascles, or; and likewise -he had surmounted it with the crest--an otter's head, erased, ppr.; but -as the second and third quarters were still vacant it was impossible to -say with which other family he proposed to claim alliance. At this -moment Vincent made his appearance at the door, looking very cheerful -and good-humoured, and modest withal; and he came into the room as if he -already felt quite at home there. - -"I have taken a little liberty," said he, "with regard to this evening. -I understood that you and Miss Bethune had no engagement, and might -think of going to that same restaurant again; but then I thought you -might prefer a change; and so I have ordered dinner at the----" And he -named a well-known hotel in the neighbourhood of Burlington Gardens. - -"Oh, you have ordered dinner?" - -"Yes, sir," said Vincent, respectfully; and then seeing there was no -objection, he went on with a gayer air: "It does seem absurd that when -people want to meet each other, and to talk, and get thoroughly -acquainted, they must needs sit down and eat together; but there is some -sense in it too; for of course we have all of us our different -occupations during the day; and dinner-time is the time at which we all -find ourselves free, so that the meeting is easily arranged. I hope -Miss Bethune wasn't fatigued after her long walk of last evening--" - -"Oh, no, no," said her grandfather, rising and going to the door. "I -must call and tell her we are going out by and bye--" - -"Yes, but of course she is coming too!" the young man said quickly. - -"If she likes--if she likes. I myself should prefer it. I will ask -her." - -And on this occasion also, when she came downstairs, Maisrie Bethune -appeared in that simple dress of cream-coloured cashmere; and again he -was struck by the alteration in her aspect; she was no longer the shy -and timid schoolgirl he had at first imagined her to be, but a young -woman, of quite sufficient self-possession, tall, and elegant of -bearing, and with more than a touch of graceful dignity in her manner. -This time she smiled as she gave him her hand for a moment; and then she -turned away; always she seemed to assume that this newly-found -relationship existed only as between her grandfather and the young man, -that she was outside of it, and only to be called in as an adjunct, now -and again when it happened to suit them. - -Nevertheless, as they by-and-bye walked away down to Burlington Gardens, -she was much more animated and talkative than he had before seen her; -and he observed, too, that her grandfather paid heed to her opinions. -Nay, she addressed the younger of her two companions also, occasionally; -and now she was not afraid to let a smile dwell in her eyes, when she -chanced to turn to him. He was bewildered by it all; it was more, far -more, than he dared have hoped for; in fact he was the last person in -the world to suspect that his own bearing--the buoyant unconscious -audacity, the winning frankness, as well as a certain youthful -modesty--was at the root of the mystery of this sudden friendship. For -one thing, he had told them a good deal about himself and his -circumstances, during that morning in Hyde Park and during the previous -afternoon and evening; and there was something in the position of these -three folk, now brought together after wide wanderings through the -world, that seemed to invite confidence and intimacy. Then old George -Bethune had an excellent fund of good-fellowship, so long as the present -moment was an enjoyable one. - -And, as it turned out, this evening proved to be one of those enjoyable -moments. The small festivity to which Vincent had invited his new -acquaintances was not in the least the haphazard affair he had -half-intimated it to be; he had arranged it with care; they found -themselves in a pretty room, with plenty of flowers on the table; while -the little banquet itself was far more elaborate, both as regards food -and wine, than there was any call for. The old gentleman did not -protest; anything that happened--so long as it was pleasant--was welcome -to him; and he declared the claret to be as excellent as any he had met -with for years back. He could not understand why their youthful host -would not join him (as if it were likely that Vincent was going to drink -wine, now that he discovered that Maisrie Bethune drank only water!) but -he had all the more for himself; and he waxed eloquent and enthusiastic -on his favourite theme. - -"Why sir," said he, with a kind of proud elation in his tone, "I myself -heard Henry Ward Beecher pronounce these words in the City Hall of -Glasgow--'I have been reared in a country whose history is brief. So -vast is it, that one might travel night and day for all the week, and -yet scarcely touch historic ground. Its history is yet to be written; -it is yet to be acted. But I come to this land, which, though small, is -as full of memories as the heaven is full of stars, and almost as -bright. There is not the most insignificant piece of water that does not -make my heart thrill with some story of heroism, or some remembered -poem; for not only has Scotland had the good fortune to have men who -knew how to make heroic history, but she has reared those bards who have -known how to sing their deeds. And every steep and every valley, and -almost every single league on which my feet have trod, have made me feel -as if I were walking in a dream. I never expected to find my eyes -overflow with tears of gladness that I have been permitted, in the prime -of life, to look upon this beloved land.' Well spoken--nobly spoken! -When I take my granddaughter here to visit her native country--for to -that country she belongs, in all the essentials of blood and tradition -and descent--I hope she will be in a similarly receptive mood; and will -see, not the bare hills, not the lonely islands, not the desolate moors, -but a land filled with the magic of association, and consecrated by the -love and devotion of a thousand song-writers, known and unknown. I will -say with Johnson 'That man is little to be envied whose patriotism would -not gain force upon the plain of Bannockburn, or whose piety would not -grow warmer among the ruins of Iona'--" - -"Not Bannockburn: Marathon, wasn't it, grandfather?" said Maisrie, in -her gentle way. - -"Well, well," he said, not heeding the interruption. "'Almost every -single league,' said Ward Beecher; and that is true. I could make a -pilgrimage throughout the length and breadth of Scotland, guided by the -finger of Scottish song. Indeed, I have often thought I should like, if -the years were spared to me, to collect materials for a volume--a -splendid and magnificent volume--on the Scotland of the Scotch songs and -ballads. The words and the music are already there; and I would have -the pencil add its charm; so that Scotland, in her noblest and fairest -aspects, might be placed before the stranger, and might be welcomed once -again by her own sons. I would have the lonely Braes o' Balwhidder, and -Rob Roy's grave in the little churchyard on the hillside; I would have -Tannahill's Arranteenie--that is on Loch Long side, I think; and the -Bonnie House o' Airlie: - - 'It fell on a day, a bonnie summer's day, - When the corn grew green and fairly, - That the great Argyle, wi' a' his men, - Cam' to plunder the bonnie house o' Airlie.' - -Then the Vale of Yarrow--well, perhaps that would have to be a figure -subject--the grief-stricken maiden bending over the body of her slain -lover-- - - 'Pale though thou art, yet best, yet best beloved, - O could my warmth to life restore thee!-- - Ye'd lie all night between my breasts; - No youth lay ever there before thee.' - -And Colonsay--Leyden's Colonsay--the haunted island that mourns like a -sea-shell-- - - 'And ever as the year returns, - The charm-bound sailors know the day; - For sadly still the mermaid mourns - The lovely chief of Colonsay.' - -Gala Water--" the old man continued, in a sort of exalted rhapsody; and -his eyes were absent, as if he were beholding a succession of visions. -"Hunting Tower--Craigie-burn Wood--the solitude sought out by Bessie -Bell and her girl companion when they fled from the plague--Ettrick -Banks--the bush aboon Traquair--in short, an endless series! And where -the pencil may fail, imagination must come in-- - - 'I see--but not by sight alone, - Loved Yarrow, have I won thee; - A ray of fancy still survives-- - Her sunshine plays upon thee!' - -It would be something to do for the sake of 'puir auld Scotland;' and -think what an enchanted wandering that would be for both Maisrie and -myself. Tweed and Teviot--the silver Forth--the stately Clyde: well, -perhaps she would be better pleased to gather a flower or two--a -lucken-gowan or a speedwell--on 'the bonnie banks o' Ayr.'" - -"But, grandfather," Maisrie Bethune interposed, "before you can begin -such a book, or even think of it, you know there is something else to be -done." - -"I suppose it would be an expensive volume to bring out?" Vincent -suggested inquiringly. - -"Oh, yes, yes," the old man said--and now he had relinquished that -rhapsodical strain, and had assumed his usual dignified, not to say -grandiose, demeanour. "The drawings must be done by the first artists; -they must not fall below the poetic pitch of the old ballads and the -still older airs. It would be an expensive book to bring out, no doubt; -but then it would be a noble undertaking; it would be a sumptuous and -valuable work. I should think, now," he went on, reflectively, "that -there ought to be a large paper edition--and perhaps five guineas would -not be too much to charge--quarto, I mean--quarto--and five guineas for -such a handsome volume mightn't be too much--" - -"Five guineas?" repeated Vincent. "Well, sir, if you choose to bring -out the book by subscription, I will undertake to get you fifty -subscribers for that edition." And then he added recklessly, "A -hundred--I will assure you a hundred subscribers!" - -"No, Mr. Harris," said Maisrie, and she addressed herself in a more -direct manner than she had ever yet done to the young man. "It is not -to be thought of. My grandfather has work to do that he must finish -before entertaining any other schemes. It would be simply wasting time -to begin and arrange about another book." - -He felt himself silenced and humbled, he hardly knew why. Had she -construed his proffered assistance into an offer of charity, and -resented it accordingly? But he could find no trace of offended pride -in the refined and gentle features when next he ventured to look at her. -She had said her say; and that was enough. And her grandfather seemed -to know she was in the right; nothing further was mentioned about the -new proposal--at least at this particular time. Dessert had come; and -the business of choosing from among those abundant fruits made a kind of -break. - -When at length they were about to depart, there was no confusion about -the bill, for Vincent intimated to the old man that he had already -arranged about that; and Mr. Bethune seemed satisfied, while Maisrie had -passed on in front and did not hear. She was very light-hearted and -talkative as they walked away home. Her protest against the proposed -publication, if it showed a little firmness at the time, had left no -pained feeling behind it; she was now as blithe as a bird; to Vincent -she seemed to shed a radiance around her, as if she were some -supernatural being, as she passed through those twilight streets. Once -she said something in French--in Canadian French--to her grandfather; -and the young man thought that never in all his life had he heard -anything so sweet and fascinating as the soft and blurred sound of the -_r_'s. He was to hear a little more of that Canadian French on this -evening. When they reached their lodgings, the old gentleman again -asked his young friend to come in for a little while; the temptation was -too great; he yielded; and followed them up into the dusky small -parlour. - -"Now we will have a serious smoke," said George Bethune, with decision, -as he took down his long clay pipe. "A cigarette after dinner is a mere -frivolity. Maisrie, lass, bring over that box of cigars for Mr. -Harris." - -But Mr. Harris firmly declined to smoke, even as he had declined to take -any wine: what was he going to sacrifice next as a subtle tribute to the -exalted character of this young creature? Maisrie Bethune seemed hardly -to understand, and was a little surprised; but now she had to go away -upstairs, to lay aside her things: so the two men were left alone, to -chat about the affairs of the day until her return. - -When she came down again, her grandfather said-- - -"Sing something, Maisrie." - -"You know I can't sing, grandfather, but I never refuse you, for it is -not of any use," said she, contentedly, as she took the violin out of -its case. "But Mr. Harris has had enough of Scotch songs this evening. -I must try something else. And perhaps you may have heard the air in -Canada," she added, addressing the young man from out of the partial -darkness. - -And now what was this new enchantment she was about to disclose and -practise? In plain truth, she had very little voice; but he did not -notice that; it was the curiously naive, and simple, and sincere -expression of tone that thrilled through his heart, as she proceeded to -recite rather than to sing the well-known "_C' etait une fregate,_" the -violin aiding her with its low and plaintive notes: - - _C' etait une fregate_ - _(Mon joli coeur de rose)_ - _Dans la mer a touche_ - _(Joli coeur d' un rosier)._ - -And here again were those softly slurred _r_'s--not sharply trilled, as -in the English fashion--but gentle and half-concealed, as it were. The -simple story proceeded-- - - _Y avait une demoiselle_ - _(Mon joli coeur de rose)_ - _Su' l' bord d' la mer pleurait,_ - _(Joli coeur d' un rosier)._ - - _--Dites-moi donc, la belle,_ - _(Mon joli coeur de rose)_ - _Qu' a' vous a tant pleurer?_ - _(Joli coeur d' un rosier)._ - - _--Je pleur; mon anneau d' or,_ - _(Mon joli coeur de rose)_ - _Dans la mer est tombe,_ - _(Joli coeur d' un rosier)._ - -Then he asks the weeping damsel what she would give to any one who would -find for her her ring of gold that has fallen into the sea. - - _--Je suis trop pauvre fille,_ - _(Mon joli coeur de rose),_ - _Je ne puis rien donner,_ - _(Joli coeur d' un rosier)._ - - _Qu' mon coeur en mariage_ - _(Mon joli coeur de rose)_ - _Pour mon anneau dore_ - _(Joli coeur d' un rosier)._ - -But the young man sitting there in the twilight hardly heard further -than that. The phrase '_qu' mon coeur en mariage_' had something more -beautiful in it than even the soft sound of the _r_'s as she pronounced -them; it dwelt in his heart with a mysterious charm; even as she went on -to tell how the bold gallant who dived for the ring of gold was drowned, -what he still seemed to hear was "_Je ne puis rien donner, qu' mon coeur -en mariage;_" and when she had finished, and there was silence, he did -not speak; there was a kind of bewilderment in the tones of her voice; -and he could not offer her commonplace thanks. - -"Now I am going to light the gas," she said, cheerfully, as she laid -aside her violin, "and, grandfather, you can challenge Mr. Harris to a -game of chess, or draughts, or dominoes, whichever he likes best, so -that I may get to my work, for it cannot always be playtime." - -And so it was that, when the gas had been lit, she returned to her own -corner and to her needlework, while her grandfather and Vincent took to -dominoes, the old man having his hot water and whisky brought to him to -accompany his second pipe. Dominoes is a mechanical game; you can play -well enough even if there is the refrain of a song ringing through your -memory; the young man did not care who won; and, indeed, he had quite -forgotten who was the victor as he shortly thereafter made his way south -through the lamp-lit streets, with his lips half-trying to re-pronounce -that strangely fascinating phrase, "_qu' mon coeur en mariage--qu' mon -coeur en mariage_." - -Well, this was but the beginning of a series of evenings, until it came -to be understood that these three dined together each night, -subsequently returning to old George Bethune's rooms, for a little music -or dominoes before parting. Vincent assumed the management of these -modest little merry-makings; varied the scene of them as much as -possible; and so arranged matters that no financial question came up to -ask for Maisrie Bethune's interference. It is true, she sometimes -seemed inclined to remain at home, so as to leave the two men greater -freedom, perhaps; but he would not hear of that; and his ever increasing -intimacy now lent him a franker authority. He was high-handed in his -ways: she smiled, and yielded. - -At last there came a proposition that was somewhat startling in its -boldness. Cunningly he deferred bringing it forward until the very end -of the evening, for then he knew that the old gentleman would be more -inclined to welcome any gay and audacious scheme, without particularly -weighing pros and cons. Accordingly having chosen his opportunity, he -informed them that he had been offered the use of a house-boat during -the Henley week (which was literally true: he had been offered it--for -the sum of L30) and said that he had a great mind to accept if only he -could persuade Mr. Bethune and his granddaughter to go down as his -guests. - -"I understood you to say," he continued, without giving either of them -time to reply, "that you had never seen Henley at the regatta-time. But -it is a thing you ought to see--it is the prettiest sight in England--it -is perfectly unique--there is nothing else like it in the world. And -then they make those house-boats so comfortable; it is simply a small -floating home; or, on the other hand, you can sit outside, and be in the -very midst of all the fun. There is no scramble--no crowd--no -hustling--so far as we are concerned; and we shall have our own cook and -steward. If you do not care to stay the whole week, we could go down on -Tuesday afternoon--the races begin on Wednesday--and remain for the -illuminations and fireworks on Friday night. It would be awfully -good-natured of you both; of course I could not think of going down and -occupying a house-boat by myself. Now what do you say, Miss Bethune?--I -appeal first to you." - -"Yes, what do you say, Maisrie?" the old man said, seeing that his -granddaughter hesitated; and then he added with a condescending smile: -"A question of dress, is it? I have heard that the costumes at Henley -are rather extravagant." - -"Oh, I assure you, no," the young man protested (he would have sworn -that the sky was pea-green if that would have helped.) "They are quite -simple summer dresses--light in colour, of course--oh, yes--but quite -plain and simple: who would take gorgeous gowns to go boating?" - -"Very well, very well," Mr. Bethune said, with an easy good-nature. "I -will answer for both Maisrie and myself: we shall be delighted. Let us -know the conditions; let us know what may be expected of us; we are old -travellers and ready for anything. And don't you be over particular -about your preparations, my young friend; we can rough it; and indeed -I'm afraid of late we've been falling into somewhat too luxurious ways. -Not that I am an anchorite; no--God forbid; if the present moment -commends itself, I welcome it; I see no wisdom in schooling one's self -to bear hardships that may not arise. Yes, I have heard of Henley--the -Thames in July--the brilliant company--" - -"It is awfully kind of you," said Vincent, rising, and preparing to go. -"I am sure you won't regret it; it is the very prettiest thing in -England. And to-morrow night I will let you know all the arrangements." - -Full of joy was the heart of this young man as he strode away down to -Grosvenor Place; and reckless and extravagant were the projects crowding -in upon his brain as to how he should play the part of host. For one -thing, he had the wherewithal; apart from the allowance given him by his -father, an uncle had died leaving him a considerable sum; while his own -personal habits were of the most inexpensive kind; so that he had plenty -of money--too much money--to spend when any whim entered his head. And -now, for the first time, old George Bethune and the fair Maisrie were to -be openly and ostensibly his guests; and what was he not going to do in -the way of entertaining them? If only he could make sure that Maisrie's -cream-coloured costume would go well with calceolarias?--then with -masses of calceolarias that house-boat would be smothered from stem to -stern! - -Nor did the knowledge that Mrs. Ellison would very likely be at Henley -trouble him one bit. He was not ashamed of this recently-formed -friendship; no; rather he was ready to proclaim it to all the world. -Supposing Mrs. Ellison, shrewd-eyed as she was, were to come and inspect -them, where could she find two more interesting human beings--the old -man with his splendid nerve and proud spirit; amidst all his -misfortunes, and in his old age, too, still holding his head erect; firm -and unyielding as his own Craig-Royston:--the young girl with her -pensive and mysterious beauty, her clear-shining, timid eyes, her -maidenly dignity, her patience with the old man, and persuasive and -affectionate guidance? Ashamed of this friendship?--he was more -inclined to parade it, to boast of it; he would have scorned himself -otherwise. Of course (as he could not hide from himself) Mrs. Ellison -might be inclined to speculate upon ulterior motives, and might begin to -ask what was to come of all this warmth of friendship and constant -association. But any future possibilities Vincent put away even from -himself; they were all too wild and strange as yet; he was content with -the fascination he found in these pleasant little merry-makings, in the -more intimate companionship of the small parlour, in listening, there or -elsewhere and always, to Maisrie Bethune's voice. And perhaps it was -only the sweetness of that voice, and the softly murmured _r_'s, that -had vibrated through his heart when she sang "_Je ne puis rien donner, -qu' mon coeur en mariage?_" What other charm could lie in so simple a -phrase? At all events, he thought he would ask Maisrie to take her -violin down to Henley with her, just in case Mrs. Ellison should some -evening pay a visit to the _White Rose_. - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - - FAIRY LAND. - - -It was a soft summer night, cool and fragrant after the heat of the long -July day; and here, under an awning in the stern of the house-boat -_White Rose_, were George Bethune, his granddaughter Maisrie, and -Vincent Harris, looking out upon the magic scene that stretched away -from them on each hand up and down the river. All the dusk was on fire -with illuminations; the doors and windows of the house-boats sent forth -a dull golden glow; there were coloured lamps, crimson, blue, and -orange; there were strings of Chinese lanterns that scarcely moved in -the faint stirring of wind; and now and again an electric launch would -go by--stealthily and silently--with brilliant festoons of fierce white -lights causing it to look like some gigantic and amazing insect -irradiating the dark. The smooth surface of the stream quivered with -reflections; here and there a rowing boat glided along, with a cool -plash of oars; a gondola came into view and slowly vanished--the -white-clad gondolier visionary as a ghost. Everywhere there was a scent -of flowers; and on board this particular house-boat there was but the -one prevailing perfume; for the sole decoration of the saloon consisted -of deep crimson roses--a heavy splendour against the white and gold -walls. From some neighbouring craft came the tinkle of a banjo; there -was a distant hum of conversation; the unseen reeds and waterlilies -could be imagined to be whispering in the silence. Among the further -woods and meadows there was an occasional moving light; no doubt the -campers-out were preparing to pitch their tents. - -"Mr. Talkative of Prating-row is hardly wanted here to-night," old -George Bethune was saying, unmindful of his own garrulous habits. -"Music is better. What is that they are singing over there, Maisrie?" - -"'The Canadian Boat Song,' grandfather." - -"Oh, yes, of course: I thought it was familiar. And very pretty it -sounds, coming across the water--though I do not know whether the air is -modern or old. What I am certain of," he continued, raising his voice -slightly as he usually did when he was about to discourse, "is that the -finest national airs are ancient beyond the imagination of man to -conceive. No matter when words may have been tacked on to them; the -original melodies, warlike, or pathetic, or joyous, were the voice of -millions of generations that passed away leaving us only these -expressions of what they had felt. And if one could only re-translate -them!--if one could put back into speech all the human suffering that -found expression in such an air as 'The Last Rose of Summer,' wouldn't -that electrify the world? I wonder how many millions of generations -must have suffered and wept and remembered ere that piteous cry could -have been uttered; and when I come to Tom Moore's wretched -trivialities--" - -"Grandfather," interposed Maisrie Bethune, quickly (for there were -certain subjects that angered him beyond endurance) "you must not forget -to show Mr. Harris that old play you found--with the Scotch airs, I -mean--" - -"Yes, that is curious," said the old man, yielding innocently. -"Curious, is it not, that long before either Burns or Scott was born, a -Scotchman named Mitchell should have collected over fifty of the -best-known Scotch airs, and printed them, with words of his own; and -that he should have chosen for the scene of his play the Borders of the -Highlands, so as to contrast the manners and customs of the Highland -chieftains and their fierce clansmen with those of the Lowland lairds -and the soldiery sent to keep the peace between them. The _Highland -Fair_ was produced at Drury Lane about 1730, if I remember aright; but I -cannot gather whether Ewen and Colin, and Alaster and Kenneth, impressed -the Londoners much. To me the book is valuable because of the -airs--though I could wish for the original songs instead of -Mitchell's--" - -Here Maisrie, seeing that her grandfather was started on a safer -subject, quietly rose; and at the first pause she said-- - -"I see some of them are putting out their lights, and that is a hint for -me to be off. I suppose we shall be wakened early enough to-morrow -morning by the boats going by. Good-night, Mr. Harris! Good-night, -grandfather!" - -She shook hands with both, and kissed her grandfather; then she passed -into the glow of that wonderful rose-palace, and made her way along to -the ladies' cabin, into which she disappeared. Vincent now lit a -cigar--the first during this day. - -But when old George Bethune resumed his monologue, it was neither -Highland clans nor Lowland songs that concerned him; it was something -that proved to be a good deal more interesting to his patient listener. -It was of Maisrie's youth that he spoke, and that in a far more simple -and natural way than was his wont. There were no genealogical -vauntings, no exalted visions of what she should be when she came in for -her rights; there were reminiscences of her earlier years, and of his -and her wanderings together; and there was throughout a certain -wistfulness in his tone. For once he talked without striving for -effect, without trying oratorically to convince himself; and it is to be -imagined how entirely Vincent was engrossed by this simple recital. Not -that there was any consecutive narrative. The young man could only -vaguely gather that Maisrie's father had been a railway-engineer; that -he had married a young Scotch lady in Baltimore before going out west; -that Maisrie had been born in Omaha; that shortly thereafter her mother -died; then came the collapse of certain speculations her father had been -led into, so that the widower, broken in heart and fortune, soon -followed his young wife, leaving their child to the care of her only -surviving relative. Whether there were some remains of the shattered -fortune, or whether friends subscribed to make up a small fund for them, -it appeared that the old man and his granddaughter were not quite -penniless; for he took credit to himself that he had spent nearly all -their little income, arising from this unspecified source, on Maisrie's -education. - -"I wish to have her fitted for any sphere to which she might be called," -he went on, in a musing kind of way. "And I hope I have succeeded. She -has had the best masters I could afford; and something of her teaching I -have taken upon myself. But, after all, that is not of the greatest -importance. She has seen the world--far more than most of her years; -and she has not been spoiled by the contact. I could have wished her, -perhaps, to have had more of the companionship of her own sex; but that -was not often practicable, in our wandering life. However, she has an -intuitive sympathy that stands for much; and if in society--which is not -much in our way--she might show herself shy and reserved, well, I, for -one, should not complain: that seems to me more to be coveted than -confidence and self-assertion. As for outward manner she has never -wanted any school-mistress other than her own natural tact and her own -refinement of feeling; she is a gentlewoman at heart; rudeness, -coarseness, presumption would be impossible to her--" - -"The merest stranger can see that," Vincent ventured to say, in rather a -low voice. - -"And thus so far we have come through the world together," the old man -continued, in the same meditative mood. "What I have done I have done -for the best. Perhaps I may have erred: what could I tell about the -uprearing of a young girl? And it may be that what she is now she is in -spite of what I have done for her and with her--who knows such -mysteries? As for the future, perhaps it is better not to look to it. -She is alone; she is sensitive; the world is hard." - -"I know many who would like to be her friends," the young man said, -breathlessly. - -"Sometimes," old George Bethune continued, slowly and thoughtfully, "I -wonder whether I have done my best. I may have built on false -hopes--and taught her to do the same. I see young women better equipped -for the battle of the world, if it is to come to that. Perhaps I have -been selfish too; perhaps I have avoided looking to the time when she -and I must in the natural course of things be separated. We have been -always together; as one, I might say; the same sunlight has shone on us, -we have met the same storms, and not much caring, so long as we were the -one with the other. But then--the years that can be granted me now are -but few; and she has no kinsman to whom she can go, even to glean in the -fields and ask for a pitcher of water. And when I think of -her--alone--among strangers--my Maisrie--" - -His voice choked--but only for a moment. He suddenly sprang to his -feet, and flung his arms in the air, as if he would free himself from -this intolerable burden of despondency and doubt. - -"Why," said he, in accents of scornful impatience, "have I gone mad, or -what pestilent thing is this! _Sursum corda_! We have faced the world -together, she and I, and no one has ever yet found us downhearted. -'We've aye been provided for, and sae will we yet': I do not mean as -regards the common necessities of life--for these are but of small -account--but the deeper necessities of sympathy and hope and confidence. -Stand fast, Craig-Royston!--'this rock shall fly, from its firm base as -soon as I!' Well, my young friend," he continued, quite cheerfully and -bravely, "you have seen me in a mood that is not common with me: you -will say nothing about it--to her, especially. She puts her trust in me; -and so far, I think, I have not failed her. I have said to her 'Come -the three corners of the world in arms, and we shall shock them'; ill -fortune buffets uselessly against 'man's unconquerable mind.' She knows -the race she comes of, and the motto of that race: Craig-Royston holds -its front! Well, well, now, let me thank you for this beautiful -evening; and on her behalf too; she is at the time when the mind should -be stored with pleasant memories. Perhaps I have been -over-communicative, and made you the victim of idle fears; but there -will be no more of that; to-morrow you shall find me in my right mind." - -He held out his hand. The young man did not know what to say--there was -so much to say! He could only make offer of some further little -hospitalities, which Mr. Bethune declined; then the steward was -summoned, to put out the lamps and make other preparations, so that the -_White Rose_ should fold its petals together, for the slumber of the -night. And presently a profound peace reigned from stem to stern; and -the last plashing of the oars outside had died away. - -But it was not to sleep that Vincent devoted the early hours of this -night and morning. His mind was tossed this way and that by all kinds -of moods and projects, the former piteous and the latter wildly -impracticable. He had never before fully realised how curiously -solitary was the lot of these two wanderers, how strange was their -isolation, how uncertain was their future. And while the old man's -courage and bold front provoked his admiration, he could not help -looking at the other side of the shield: what was to become of her, when -her only protector was taken from her? He knew that they were none too -well off, those two; and what would she do when left alone? But if on -the very next day he were to go to Mrs. Ellison and borrow L10,000 from -her, which he would have mysteriously conveyed to old George Bethune? -He could repay the money, partly by the sacrifice of his own small -fortune, and partly by the assigning over of the paternal allowance; -while he could go away to Birmingham, or Sheffield, or wherever the -place was, and earn his living by becoming Mr. Ogden's private -secretary. They need never know from whom this bounty came, and it -would render them secure from all the assaults of fortune. Away up -there in the Black Country he would think of them; and it would lighten -the wearisome toil of the desk if he could imagine that Maisrie Bethune -had left the roar and squalor of London, and was perhaps wandering -through these very Thames-side meadows, or floating in some -white-garnitured boat, under the shade of the willows. There would be -rest for the pilgrims at last, after their world-buffetings. And so he -lay and dreamed and pitied and planned, until in the window of the small -state-room there appeared the first blue-gray of the dawn, about which -time he finally fell asleep. - -But next morning all was briskness and activity around them--flags -flying, coloured awnings being stretched, pale swirls of smoke rising -from the stove-pipes, the pic-nickers in the meadows lighting their -spirit-lamps for the breakfast tea. The sun was shining brightly, but -there was a cool breeze to temper the heat; the surface of the stream -was stirred into silver; the willows and rushes were shivering and -swaying; a scent of new-mown hay was in the air. Already there were -plenty of craft afloat, on business or on pleasure bent; early visits -being paid, or masses of flowers, ferns, and palms being brought along -for purchasers. Maisrie was the first to be up and out; then old George -Bethune could be heard gaily singing in his state-room, as an -accompaniment to his toilet-- - - "Hey, Jonnie Cope, are ye waukin yet, - And are your drums a-beatin yet, - If ye were waukin, I would wait - To meet Jonnie Cope in the morning?" - -Finally when Vincent, with many apologies for being late, made his -appearance outside, he found the old man comfortably seated in the -stern-sheets, under the pink and white awning, reading a newspaper he -had procured somewhere, while Maisrie was on the upper-deck of the -house-boat watering the flowers with a can that she had got from the -steward. - -And indeed to this young man it appeared a truly wonderful thing that -these three, some little while thereafter, in the cool twilight of the -saloon, should be seated at breakfast together; they seemed to form a -little family by themselves, isolated and remote from the rest of the -world. They forgot the crowded Thames outside and the crowded meadows; -here there was quiet, and a charming companionship; a band that was -playing somewhere was so distant as to be hardly audible. Then the -saloon itself was charming; for though the boat was named the _White -Rose_, there was a good deal of pale pink in its decorations: the -flutings and cornice were pink where they were not gold, and pink were -the muslin curtains drawn round the small windows; while the profusion -of deep crimson roses all round the long room, and the masses of grapes -and pineapples on the breakfast-table made up a picture almost typical -of summer, in the height of its luxuriance and shaded coolness. - -"This seems very nice," said the young host, "even supposing there were -no river and no racing. I don't see why a caravan like this shouldn't be -put on wheels and taken away through the country. There is an idea for -you, Mr. Bethune, when you set out on your pilgrimage through Scotland; -wouldn't a moveable house of this kind be the very thing for Miss -Bethune and you?--you could set it afloat if you wanted to go down a -river, or put it on a lorry when you wanted to take the road." - -"I'm afraid all this luxury would be out of place in 'Caledonia, stern -and wild,'" the old man said. "No, no; these things are for the gay -south. When Maisrie and I seek out the misty solitudes of the north, -and the graves of Renwick and Cargill, it will be on foot; and if we -bring away with us some little trifle to remind us of Logan's streams -and Ettrick's shaws, it will be a simple thing--a bluebell or a bit of -yellow broom. I have been thinking that perhaps this autumn we might -begin--" - -"Oh, no, grandfather," Maisrie interposed at once. "That is impossible. -You know you have the American volume to do first. What a pity it would -be," she went on, with an insidious and persuasive gentleness which the -young man had seen her adopt before in humouring her grandfather, "if -some one else were to bring out a book on the same subject before you. -You know no one understands it so thoroughly as you do, grandfather: and -with your extraordinary memory you can say exactly what you require; so -that you could send over and get the materials you want without any -trouble." - -"Very well, very well," the old man said, curtly. "But we need not talk -business at such a time as this." - -Now there was attached to the _White Rose_ a rowing boat; and a very -elegant rowing-boat it was, too, of varnished pine; and by and bye -Vincent proposed to his two guests that they should get into the -stern-sheets, and he would take a short pair of sculls, and pull them up -to the bridge, to show them the other house-boats, and the people, and -the fun of the fair generally. - -"But wouldn't you take the longer oars," said Maisrie, looking down into -the shapely gig, "and let me have one?" - -"Oh, would you like that?" he said, with pleasure in his eyes. "Yes, by -all means, if you care to row. It is a light boat though it's long; you -won't find it hard pulling. By the way, I hunted about everywhere to -get a gondola for you, and I couldn't." - -"But who told you I had ever tried an oar in a gondola?" she asked, with -a smile. - -"Why, you yourself: was I likely to forget it?" he said reproachfully. - -And oh! wasn't he a proud young man when he saw this rare and radiant -creature--clad all in white she was, save for a bunch of yellow -king-cups in her white sailor hat, and a belt of dull gold satin at her -waist--when he saw her step down into the boat, and take her place, and -put out the stroke oar with her prettily shaped hands. Her grandfather -was already in the stern-sheets, in possession of the tiller-ropes. -When they moved off into mid-stream, it was very gently, for the river -was already beginning to swarm; and he observed that she pulled as one -accustomed to pulling, and with ease; while, as he was responsible for -keeping time, they had nothing to be ashamed of as they slowly moved up -the course. Indeed, they were only paddling; sometimes they had to call -a halt altogether, when there was a confusion; and this not unwelcome -leisure they devoted to an observation of the various crews--girls in -the lightest of summer costumes, young men in violent blazers--or to a -covert inspection of the other house-boats, with their parterres and -festoons of flowers, their huge Japanese sun-shades and tinted awnings, -and the brilliant groups of laughing and chatting visitors. - -"Oh, Mr. Harris, do look--isn't that a pretty one!" Maisrie exclaimed, -in an undertone. - -He glanced in the direction indicated, and there beheld a very handsome -house-boat, all of rich-hued mahogany, its chief decoration being -flowerboxes in blue tiles filled with marguerites. At the same instant -he found that a pair of eyes were fixed on him--eyes that were -familiar--and the next moment he knew that Mrs. Ellison, from the upper -deck of that mahogany house-boat, was regarding him and his companions -with an intense curiosity. But so swift was her scrutiny, and so -impassive her face, that ere he could guess at the result of her -investigation she had made him a formal little bow and turned away to -talk to her friends. Of course, with one hand on the oar he raised his -hat with the other: but the effect of this sudden recognition was to -leave him rather breathless and bewildered. It is true, he had half -expected her to be there; but all the same he was not quite prepared; -and--and he was wondering what she was thinking now. However, the -officials were beginning to clear the course for the first race; so the -gig was run in behind one of the tall white poles; and there the small -party of three remained until the rival crews had gone swiftly by, when -it was permitted them to return to the _White Rose_. - -After luncheon he said he would leave his guests to themselves for a -little while, as he wished to pay a visit to a friend he had seen on one -of the other house-boats; then he jumped into the gig, made his way -along to the _Villeggiatura_, got on board, went up the steps, and found -himself among a crowd of people. Mrs. Ellison, noticing him, discreetly -left the group she was with, and came to him, taking him in a measure -apart. - -"Wait a moment, Vin," she said, regarding the young man. "If you wish -it--if you prefer it--I have seen nothing." - -"What do you mean, aunt!" he said, with some haughty inclination to -anger. "Why should I seek any concealment? I want you to come along -that I may introduce to you two friends of mine." - -Instinctively she seemed to draw back a little--almost as if she were -afraid. - -"Oh, no, thanks, Vin. No, thanks. Please leave me out." - -"Why?" he demanded. - -The pretty young widow was embarrassed and troubled; for she knew the -fiery nature of young men; and did not want to provoke any quarrel by an -unguarded expression. - -"Well--it is simply this, you know--they are strangers--I mean--I -suppose that neither your father nor any of the family have met -them--they seemed somehow like strangers--unusual looking--and--and I -shouldn't like to be the first. Leave me out, there's a good boy!" - -"Why?" he demanded again. - -So she was driven to confession. - -"Well, look here, Vin; I may be wrong; but aren't these new friends -somehow connected with your being so much away from home of late--with -your being in those lodgings? Was it there you made their -acquaintance?" - -"If you want to know, I saw them first at Lord Musselburgh's," said he -with an amazing audacity; for although the statement was literally true, -it was entirely misleading. - -And apparently it staggered the pleasant-eyed young widow. - -"Oh, at Lord Musselburgh's?" said she, with a distinct (but cautious) -change of manner. "Oh, really. Lord Musselburgh's. But why should you -want to introduce me to them, Vin?" - -"Because," said he, "they have never met any member of our family: and -as you are the most goodnatured and the prettiest, I want to produce a -favourable impression at the outset." - -She laughed and was not displeased. - -"There are some other qualities that seem to characterise our -family--impudence for one," she observed. "Well, come along, then, Vin: -where are your friends?" - -"In a house-boat down there--the _White Rose_." - -"The _White Rose_? I noticed it yesterday--very pretty--whose is it?" - -"Mine for the present; I rented it for the week," he replied. - -"Who are the other members of your party?" - -"None--only those two." - -But here she paused at the top of the steps; and said in an undertone-- - -"Really, Vin, this is too much! You, a young man entertaining those -two--and no lady chaperon--" - -He turned and looked at her, with straight eyes. - -"Oh, it's quite right," she said, hastily. "It's quite right, of -course--but--but so much _en evidence_--so prominent--people might -talk--" - -"I never try to hinder people from talking," said he, with a certain -scorn. "And if they busy themselves with my small affairs, they are -welcome to ring their discoveries from the tops of the steeples. I did -not ask anybody's permission when I invited two friends of mine, who had -never been to Henley before, to be my guests during the regatta-week." - -"Of course not, of course not," she said, gently; "but you are doing it -in such a marked way--" - -"Come, come, aunt," said he, "it isn't like you to niggle about nothing. -You are not a prude; you have too much goodnature--and too much common -sense. And I don't want you to go on board the _White Rose_ with any -kind of prejudice in your mind." - -They could not get away just then, however, for the course was being -cleared for the next race; so they lingered there until they saw, far -away on the open river, two small objects like water-insects, with -slender quick-moving legs, coming rapidly along. The dull murmur of the -crowd became a roar as the boats drew nearer. Then the needle-like -craft shot by, almost neck and neck; and loud were the shouts that -cheered this one or that; while straining eyes followed them along to -the goal. The sudden wave of enthusiasm almost immediately subsided; -the surface of the river was again being crowded by the boats that had -been confined behind the white poles; and now Vincent got his fair -companion down into the gig and, with some little difficulty and delay, -rowed her along to the _White Rose_. - -He was very anxious as he conducted her on board; but he affected a -splendid carelessness. - -"Mr. Bethune," said he, "let me introduce you to my aunt, Mrs. -Ellison--Miss Bethune, Mrs. Ellison: now come away inside, and we'll get -some tea or strawberries or something--racing isn't everything at -Henley-- - -"It isn't anything at all, as far as I have seen," said Mrs. Ellison, -goodhumouredly, as she followed her nephew into the saloon. "Well, this -is very pretty--very pretty indeed--one of the simplest and -prettiest--so cool-looking. I hear this is your first visit to Henley," -she continued addressing the old man, when they had taken their seats: -Vincent meanwhile, bustling about to get wine and biscuits and fruit, -for the steward had gone ashore. - -"It is," said he, "and I am glad that my granddaughter has seen it in -such favourable circumstances. Although she has travelled much, I doubt -whether she has ever seen anything more charming, more perfect in its -kind. We missed the Student's Serenade at Naples last year; but that -would have been entirely different, no doubt; this is a vast water -picnic, among English meadows, at the fairest time of the year, and with -such a brilliancy of colour that the eye is delighted in every -direction." - -He was self-possessed enough (whatever their eagerly solicitous young -host may have been); and he went on, in a somewhat lofty and sententious -fashion, to describe certain of the great public festivals and -spectacles he had witnessed in various parts of the world. Mrs. Ellison -was apparently listening, as she ate a strawberry or two; but in reality -she was covertly observing the young girl (who sate somewhat apart) and -taking note of every line and lineament of her features, and even every -detail of her dress. Vincent brought Mr. Bethune a tumbler of claret -with a lump of ice in it; he drained a deep draught; and resumed his -story of pageants. Maisrie was silent, her eyes averted: the young man -asked himself whether the beautiful profile, the fine nostrils, the -sensitive mouth, would not plead for favour, even though she did not -speak. It seemed a thousand pities that her grandfather should be in -this garrulous mood. Why did not Mrs. Ellison turn to the girl -direct?--he felt sure there would be an instant sympathy between those -two, if only Maisrie would appeal with her wonderful, true eyes. What -on earth did anyone want to know about the resplendent appearance of the -White Cuirassiers of the Prussian Guard, as they rode into Prague a week -or two after the battle of Koeniggraetz, with their dusty and swarthy -faces and their copper-hued breastplates lit up by the westering sun? - -But, on the other hand, Mrs. Ellison was not displeased by this -one-sided conversation; quite the contrary; she wanted to know all about -these strange people with whom her nephew had taken up; and the more the -old man talked the better she resented the intervention of a race which -Master Vin dragged them all away to see; and as soon as it was -over--they were now seated in the stern-sheets of the boat--she turned -to Mr. Bethune with a question. - -"I understand," she said, in a casual sort of way, "that you know Lord -Musselburgh?" - -At this Maisrie looked up startled. - -"Oh, yes," said her grandfather, in his serene and stately fashion. -"Oh, yes. A most promising young man--a young man who will make his -mark. Perhaps he is riding too many hobbies; and yet it might not be -prudent to interfere and advise; a young man in his position is apt to -be hot-headed--" - -"Mrs. Ellison," interposed Maisrie, "we are only slightly acquainted -with Lord Musselburgh--very slightly indeed. The fact is, he was kind -enough to interest himself in a book, that my grandfather hopes to bring -out shortly." - -"Ob, really," said the pretty widow with a most charming smile (perhaps -she was glad of this opportunity of talking to the young lady herself) -"and may I ask--pardon my curiosity--what the subject is." - -"It is a collection of poems written by Scotchmen living in America and -Canada," answered Maisrie, quite simply. "My grandfather made the -acquaintance of several of them, and heard of others; and he thought -that a volume of extracts, with a few short biographical notices, might -be interesting to the Scotch people over here. For it is about Scotland -that they mostly write, I think, and of their recollections--perhaps -that is only natural." - -"And when may we expect it?" was the next question. - -Maisrie turned to her grandfather. - -"Oh, well," the old man made answer, with an air of magnificent -unconcern, "that is difficult to say. The book is not of such great -importance; it may have to stand aside for a time. For one thing, I -should most likely have to return to the other side to collect -materials; whereas, while we are here in the old country, there are so -many opportunities for research in other and perhaps more valuable -directions, that it would be a thousand pities to neglect them. For -example, now," he continued, seeing that Mrs. Ellison listened meekly, -"I have undertaken to write for my friend Carmichael of the _Edinburgh -Chronicle_ a series of papers on a branch of our own family that -attained to great distinction in the Western Isles during the reign of -the Scotch Jameses--the learned Beatons of Islay and Mull." - -"Oh, indeed," said Mrs. Ellison, affecting much interest. - -"Yes," resumed old George Bethune, with much dignified complacency, "it -will be a singular history if ever I find time to trace it out. The -whole of that family seem to have been regarded with a kind of -superstitious reverence; all their sayings were preserved; and even now, -when a proverb is quoted in the Western Isles, they add, 'as the sage of -Mull said' or 'as the sage of Islay said.' For _ullahm_, I may inform -you, Mrs.--Mrs.--" - -"Ellison," she said, kindly. - -"Mrs. Ellison--I beg your pardon--my hearing is not what it was. -_Ullahm_, in the Gaelic tongue means at once a Doctor of Medicine and a -wise man--" - -"They distinguish between the terms in English," put in Vincent. - -"--and doctors most of them appear to have been," continued the old man, -quite oblivious of interruption: indeed he seemed to be reading -something out of his memory, rather than addressing particularly any one -of his audience. "A certain Hector Beaton, indeed, got a considerable -grant in Islay for having cured one of the Jameses when all the -Edinburgh Faculty had failed; and I myself have seen in the island of -Iona the tombstone of the last of the Mull doctors of the name, who died -so late as 1657. _Hic jacet Johannes Betonus Maclenorum familiae -Medicus_: no doubt there must be some mention of those Beatons in the -archives of the various families of Maclean in Mull. Then I daresay I -could get a drawing of the tombstone--though I can remember the -inscription well enough. The coat of arms, too, has the three mascles of -the Bethunes--" - -"Of the Bethunes?--then you are of the same family?" said Mrs. Ellison, -this time with a little genuine curiosity. - -But the interruption had the effect of rousing him from his historical -reverie. - -"I would rather say," he observed, with some stiffness, "that they were -originally of our family. The Norman de Bethune would easily be changed -into the Scotch Beaton." - -"Then there was Mary Beaton, of the Queen's Maries," Mrs. Ellison -suggested. - -But at this the old man frowned: he did not wish any fictitious -characters brought into these authentic annals. - -"An idle tale--a popular rhyme," said he. "There is no real foundation -for the story of Mary Hamilton that ever I could get hold of. Of course -there may have been a Mary Beaton at Queen Mary's court--what more -likely?--and Mary Beaton would come trippingly to the popular tongue in -conjunction with Mary Seton; but that is all. It is with real people, -and important people, I shall have to deal when I get to the Advocates -Library in Edinburgh." - -"Oh, yes, certainly--of course--I quite understand," she said, humbly. -And then she rose. "Well, I must be getting back to my friends, Vin, or -they will think I have slipped over the side and been drowned." - -"But won't you stay to dinner, aunt?" said he. "I wish you would!" - -"Oh, no, thanks, I really couldn't," she answered with a sudden -earnestness that became more intelligible to him afterwards. "I -couldn't run away from my hosts like that." Then she turned to Mr. -Bethune and his granddaughter. "By the way," she said, "Lord -Musselburgh is coming down to-morrow--merely for the day--and he will be -on board the _Villeggiatura_. Would you all of you like to come along -and have a look over the boat; or shall I send him to pay you a visit -here?" - -It was Maisrie who replied--with perfect self-composure. - -"Our acquaintance with Lord Musselburgh is so very slight, Mrs. -Ellison," said she, "that it would hardly be worth while making either -proposal. I doubt whether he would even remember our names." - -Whereupon the young widow bade good-bye to Maisrie with a pretty little -smile; the old gentleman bowed to her with much dignity; and then she -took her seat in the stern of the gig, while her nephew put out the -sculls. When they were well out of hearing, Mrs. Ellison said--with a -curious look in her eyes of perplexity and half-frightened amusement-- - -"Vin, who is that old man?" - -"Well, you saw, aunt," he made answer. - -"Ob, yes, I saw. I saw. But I am none the wiser. I could not make him -out at all. Sometimes I thought he was a self-conceited old donkey, who -was simply gabbling at random; and again he seemed really to believe -what he was saying, about his connection with those Beatons and de -Bethunes and the Scotch kings. But there's something behind it all, -Vin; I tell you there is; and I can't make it out. There's something -mysterious about him--" - -"There's nothing mysterious at all!" he exclaimed, impatiently. - -"But who is he, then?" she persisted. "What is he? Where is his -family? Where are his relatives?" - -"I don't think he has any, if it comes to that, except his -granddaughter," her nephew replied. - -"What does he do, then? How does he exist?" - -He was beginning to resent this cross-examination; but yet he said -civilly enough-- - -"I am not in the habit of making inquiries about the income of everyone -I meet; but I understand they have some small sum of money between -them--not much: and then he has published books; and he writes for the -_Edinburgh Weekly Chronicle_. Is that enough?" - -"Where does he live?" - -"In Mayfair." - -"I don't believe a word of it!" she said, and she even ventured to laugh -in a half-embarrassed way. "I believe he dwells in a cave--he is a -troglodyte--he comes out at dusk--and wanders about with a lantern and a -pickaxe. Really, when I looked at his shaggy eyebrows, and his piercing -eyes, and his venerable beard, I thought he must be some Druid come to -life again--or perhaps one of those mythical island-doctors surviving -from the fourteenth century--" - -"At all events, aunt," Vincent said, with an ominous distinctness of -tone, "his age and what he has come through might procure for him a -little respect. It isn't like you to jeer and jibe simply because a man -is old--" - -"My dear boy, I am not jibing and jeering!" she protested. "I tell you -I am puzzled. There's something about that old man I can't make out." - -"How could you expect to understand anybody--in half-an-hour's talk at -Henley Regatta!" he said, indignantly. "I gave you the opportunity of -getting to know them both, if only you had come along this evening, and -spent some time with them. I am not aware that either of them wants to -conceal anything. They are not ashamed of their poverty. Perhaps the -old man talks too much: you, at least, pretended to find what he said -interesting. And as for the girl, no doubt she was silent: she isn't -used to be stared at and examined by critical and unsympathetic eyes." - -The young widow elevated her brows: here was something unexpected! - -"Vin Harris," she said, solemnly, "are you quarrelling with me -because--because I am not glamoured? Is it as bad as that? If so, then -I am extremely glad I did not accept your invitation for this evening. -I am compromised far enough already--" - -"What do you mean by compromised?" he demanded. - -But just at this moment she had to call to him to look out, for they had -almost arrived at the _Villeggiatura_. He glanced over his shoulder, -pulled a stroke with his right oar, shipped the other, and then, having -gripped the stern of the house-boat, he affixed the painter of the gig, -and, letting her back fall into the stream, returned to the thwart he -had occupied. - -"I wish to ask you, aunt," said he, in a sufficiently stiff and formal -tone, "how you consider you have been compromised through meeting any -friends of mine." - -"Oh," said she, half inclined to laugh, yet a little bit afraid too, -"don't ask me. It isn't as serious as that--I mean, I didn't think you -would take it seriously. No doubt it's all right, Vin, your choosing -your own friends; and I have nothing to say against them; only I would -rather you left me out, if you don't mind. You see, I don't know your -intentions--" - -"Supposing I have none?" he demanded again. - -"Well, no one can say what may happen," the young widow persisted; "and -I should not like to be appealed to--Now, now, Vin, don't be so -passionate!--have I said a single word against your new friends? Not -one. I only confess that I'm a selfish and comfort-loving woman, and I -don't wish to be drawn into any family strife. There may be no family -strife? Very well; so much the better. But my having no further -acquaintance with Mr. Bethune and Miss Bethune--my having no knowledge -of them whatever, for it practically comes to that--cannot injure them; -and leaves me free from responsibility. Now don't quarrel with me, Vin; -for I will not allow it; I have been talking common sense to you--but I -suppose that is what no man of twenty-five understands." - -He hauled up the gig to the stern of the house-boat, as an intimation -that she could step on board when she chose. - -"There," said she, as she gave him her hand in parting, "I see I have -offended you; but what I have said has been for your sake as well as -mine." - -Well, he was vexed, disappointed, and a little inclined to be angry. -But all that darkness fled from his spirit--he forgot all about Mrs. -Ellison's friendly monitions--he had no care for any speculations as to -the future--when he was back again in the _White Rose_, sitting by -Maisrie Bethune, he and she together looking abroad on the gay crowd, -and the boats, and the trembling willows, and the slow-moving skies now -growing warmer with the afternoon sun. Then, when the last of the races -was over, came dinner; and as twilight stole over the river and the -meadows, the illuminations began, the rows of coloured lanterns showing -one after the other, like so many fire-flies in the dusk. Of course -they were sitting outside now--on this placid summer night--in -fairyland. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - - CLAIRE FONTAINE. - - -But something far more strange and wonderful happened to him the next -morning; and that was his first _tete-a-tete_ conversation with Maisrie -Bethune. It was quite unexpected, and even unsought; nay, when he -stepped outside and found that she was alone on deck, he would have -shrank back, had that been possible, rather than break in upon her -solitude. For even here at Henley, during the regatta-time, which may -be regarded as the High Festival of Joyance and Flirtation, there was no -thought of pretty and insidious love-making in this young man's head or -heart. There was something mysteriously remote and reserved about this -isolated young creature, whose very beauty was of a strangely pensive -and wistful kind. Even the gentle self-possession and the wisdom beyond -her years she showed at times seemed to him a pathetic sort of thing; he -had a fancy that during her childhood she never had had the chance of -playing with young children. - -But it was too late to retreat; and indeed she welcomed him with a -pleasant smile as she bade him good morning. It was he who was -embarrassed. He talked to her about the common things surrounding them, -while anxiously casting about for something better fitting such a rare -opportunity. And at last he said-- - -"Yes, I am sure your grandfather and I get on very well. And I have -been wondering whether, when you and he make that pilgrimage through -Scotland, he would let me accompany you." - -In her beautiful and child-like eyes there was a swift flash of joy that -made his heart leap, so direct and outspoken an expression it was of her -gladness to think of such a thing; but instantly she had altered her -look, and a faint flush of colour had overspread her face--the pale -wild-rose had grown pink. - -"Your way of travelling and ours are so different," the said, gently. - -"Oh, but," said he, with eagerness, "you don't understand how the idea -of a long wandering on foot has fascinated me: why, that would be the -whole charm of it! You don't know me at all yet. You think I care for -the kind of thing that prevails here--that I can't get on without -pine-apples and chairs with gilt backs? Why--but I don't want to talk -about myself at all: if you would let me come with you on that -pilgrimage you would find out a little. And what an opportunity it will -be, to go with your grandfather: history, poetry, and romance all -brought together: Scotland will be a wonderful country for you before -you have done with it. And--and--you see--I have gone on pedestrian -excursions before--I have a pretty broad back--I can carry things. You -might engage me as porter; for even when you send your luggage on, there -will be a few odds and ends to fill a knapsack with; and I can tramp -like any gaberlunzie." - -She smiled a little, and then said more seriously-- - -"I am glad to have the chance of speaking to you about that scheme of my -grandfather's; because, Mr. Harris, you must try to dissuade him from it -as much as possible." - -"Dissuade him?" - -"Yes," said she, quietly. "You must have seen how completely my -grandfather lives in a world of imagination, and how one thing -captivates him after another, especially if it is connected with -Scotland and Scottish song. And I have no doubt he would write a -beautiful book about such a tour as that; for who knows more about all -the places and the legends and ballads? It would be a pleasure for me -too--I have dreamed of it many a time. But it is impossible for the -present; and it will be a kindness to me, Mr. Harris, if you will not -encourage him in it. For the fact is," she continued, with a little -embarrassment, "my grandfather has undertaken to write something -else--and--and he is under personal obligations about it--and he must -not be allowed to forget them." - -"Oh, yes, I quite understand," Vincent said. "I have heard of that -volume about the Scotch poets in America. Well, you know what your -grandfather says, that he would have to go to the other side to collect -materials; while, being here in this country just now, he might as well -take you to those scenes and places that would make up another book, to -be written subsequently. However, I have no doubt you are right. The -possibility of my going along with you two on such an excursion has been -a wonderful thing for me to speculate on; but whatever you wish, that is -enough. I am against the Scotch trip now, so far as I have any right to -speak." - -She was looking at him enquiringly, and yet diffidently, as if she were -asking herself how far she might confide in him. - -"Perhaps you have not noticed it, Mr. Harris," she added, still -regarding him, "but my grandfather has a strange faculty for making -himself believe things. I daresay, if he only planned the American -book, he could convince himself that he had written it, and so got rid -of those--those obligations. Well, you will help me, will you not?--for -I am anxious to see it done; and he may say I am too young and too -ignorant to give advice--as I am--" - -"Why," said Vincent, almost indignantly, "do you think I cannot see how -you guide and lead him always, and with such a tact and wisdom and -gentleness as I never beheld anywhere!" - -Maisrie flashed downright red this time; but she sought to conceal her -confusion by saying quickly-- - -"Then again you must not misunderstand me, Mr. Harris; you must not -think I am saying anything against my grandfather; I am only telling you -of one little peculiarity he has. Saying anything against him!--I think -I could not well do that; for he has been goodness itself to me since -ever I can remember anything. There is nothing he would not sacrifice -for my sake; sometimes it is almost painful to me to see an old man, who -should be the petted one and the cared for, so ready to give up his own -wants and wishes, to please a mere girl who is worthy of no -consideration whatever. And consideration is not the word for what I -have received from my grandfather always and always; and if I could -forget all he has done for me and been to me--if I could be so -ungrateful as to forget all those years of affection and sympathy and -constant kindness--" - -She never finished the sentence. He fancied her eyes were moist as she -turned her head away; anyhow he dared not break in upon the silence; -these confidences had been sacred things. And indeed there was no -opportunity for further speech on this subject; for presently old George -Bethune made his appearance, radiant, buoyant, high-spirited, with a -sonorous stanza from Tannahill to greet the awakening of the new day. - -Now no sooner had Lord Musselburgh arrived on board the _Villeggiatura_ -on the same morning than Mrs. Ellison went to him and told him all her -story, which very much surprised him, and also concerned him not a -little, for it seemed as though he was in a measure responsible for what -had happened to Vincent. - -"My dear Mrs. Ellison," said he, "I can assure you of one thing: it is -quite true that your nephew was in the room when Mr. Bethune and his -granddaughter called on me, but I am positively certain that there was -no introduction and that he did not speak a single word to them there. -How he got to know them I cannot imagine; nor how they could have become -so intimate that he should ask them to be his guests down here at -Henley. And his sole guests, you say?--Yes, I admit, it looks queer. I -hope to goodness there is no kind of entanglement--" - -"Oh," said Mrs. Ellison, in sudden alarm; "don't imagine anything from -what I have told you I There may be nothing in it: he as good as -declared there was nothing in it: and he is so fiery and sensitive--on -this one point--why, that is the most serious feature of it all! He -looks you straight in the face, and dares you to suspect anything. But -really--really--to have those two companions--and no others--on a -house-boat at Henley: it is a challenge to the world!" - -"Looks rather like it," said Lord Musselburgh; and then he added: "Of -course you know that Vin has always been a Quixotic kind of chap--doing -impossible things if he thought them right--and all that sort of thing. -But it's very awkward just at this moment. There must be some powerful -attraction, of one kind or another, to have made him give himself over -so completely to these new friends; for he has not been near me of late; -and yet here I have in my pocket a letter that concerns him very -closely, if only he would pay attention to it. I don't mind telling -you, Mrs. Ellison, for you are discretion itself--" - -"I think you may trust me, Lord Musselburgh," she said, with a smile. - -"Very well, then," said he, lowering his voice. "I hear that there will -be a vacancy at Mendover--certainly at the next General Election, but -more probably much sooner: old Gosford has become such a confirmed -hypochondriac that he will hardly leave his room; and his constituents -are grumbling as much as they dare--for he has got money, you know, and -the public park he gave them wants further laying out, and statues, and -things. Very well; now I have in my pocket a darkly discreet letter -from the Committee of the Mendover Liberal Association asking me to go -down and deliver an address at their next meeting, and hinting that if I -could bring with me an acceptable candidate--" - -He paused, and for a second a cynical but perfectly good-humoured laugh -appeared in his eyes. - -"My dear Mrs. Ellison," said he, "I am deeply grateful. I thought you -might express some astonishment at my being consulted in so important an -affair. But the fact is, I, also, am expected to do something for that -park; and perhaps this invitation was only a little hint to remind me of -my local responsibilities. However, that is how the case stands; and I -had thought of taking your nephew down with me-- - -"A vacancy at Mendover," said Mrs. Ellison, in awe-struck tones, "where -you are simply everybody! Oh, Lord Musselburgh, what a chance for Vin!" - -"And then, you know," continued the young peer, "I want to bring him out -as a Tory Democrat, for that is a fine, bewildering sort of thing, that -provokes curiosity: you call yourself a Tory and can be as revolutionary -as you like, so that you capture votes all round. Why, I've got Vin's -programme all ready for him in my pocket: a graduated income-tax, free -education, leasehold enfranchisement, compulsory insurance, anything and -everything you like except disestablishment--disestablishment won't work -at Mendover. Now, you see, Mrs. Ellison, if I could get Vin properly -coached, he has all the natural fervour that unhappily I lack; and after -I had made my few little jokes which they kindly take for a speech, I -could produce him and say 'Here, now, is the young politician of the new -generation; here's your coming man; this is the kind of member the next -quarter-of-a-century must return to the House of Commons.' But if there -is any Delilah in the way--" - -Mrs. Ellison crimsoned. - -"No, Lord Musselburgh," she said. "No. You need have no fear." - -However, she seemed perturbed--perhaps in her anxiety that her nephew -should not miss this great opportunity. Presently she said-- - -"Tell me, what do you know of this old man?--I can't make him out at -all." - -"I? I know nothing, or next to nothing," he said, lightly, as he gazed -abroad on the busy river. "I remember Vin asking me the same -question--I suppose out of curiosity about the girl. My recollection of -her is that she was extremely pretty--refined-looking--lady-like, in -fact--" - -"She is, indeed," said Mrs. Ellison, with decision, "and that is what -makes the situation all the more dangerous--assuming, of course, that -there is any ground for one's natural suspicions. No, Vin is the last -man in the world to be captured by any vulgar adventuress; he is at once -too fastidious and too proud. But then, you see, he is well known to be -the son of a very wealthy man; and there might be a design--" She -hesitated for a moment: then she said, half impatiently: "Lord -Musselburgh, tell me how you came to know this old man: he could not -have sprung out of the earth all of a sudden." - -He told her, as briefly as might be. - -"That was all?" she repeated, eyeing him shrewdly. - -"Yes." - -"You are sure?" - -"What do you mean? That is really all I know of the old gentleman: -isn't that what you asked?" - -"But was that the whole of the interview, if I may be so impertinent as -to inquire?" she demanded again. - -"Ob, yes, it was," Lord Musselburgh said; and then he added, -indifferently: "Of course I subscribed something towards the publication -of a book he mentioned--he had written to me before about the project." - -"Oh, there was money?" she said. - -A slight tinge on Lord Musselburgh's forehead showed that he had not -intended to make this admission. - -"Oh, nothing--a trifle--it is usual when a book is coming out by -subscription." - -Mrs. Ellison sate silent for a little while: there was plenty going on -on the river to interest her companion. Then by-and-bye she said -slowly-- - -"Well, I had intended to keep clear of these new friends of Vin's. I -thought it would be more prudent for me to know nothing. It is true, I -was introduced to them yesterday afternoon; but I wished that to be all; -I thought I would rather withdraw; and let things take their course. -But I don't know that that would be honest and right. Vin is a young man -with many fine and noble qualities--perhaps a little too fine and noble -for the ordinary work-a-day world; and I think he ought to have the -benefit of my sadly-earned experience and callous nature--" - -Lord Musselburgh laughed: he did not take her too seriously. - -"He is my own boy," she continued, "I would do anything for him. And -I'm not going to let him be entrapped--if that is what all this means. -I know he is very angry with me just now; probably he would not speak to -me if he were to meet me this minute; but that won't prevent my speaking -to him. I'm going to put my pride in my pocket, Lord Musselburgh. I'm -going to find out something more about this picturesque old gentleman, -who talks so grandly about the Beatons, and the de Bethunes, and their -coats of arms, and who accepts a L10 note--or perhaps only a L5 -note?--on account of a book that is not yet published. And if there is -any sort of scheme on foot for getting hold of the son of so notoriously -wealthy a man as Harland Harris, then I want to make a little inquiry. -Yesterday Vin indignantly complained that I was prejudiced, and that I -had no right to form any opinion about those friends of his because I -would not go along and dine with him and them last evening. Very well, -I will go to him, and make up the quarrel, and ask him to repeat the -invitation for this evening--" - -"For this evening?" repeated Lord Musselburgh, in tones of deep -disappointment. "You don't mean you are going to leave all your friends -here and go and dine somewhere else?" - -"If I can procure an invitation. It is my duty. I'm not going to let my -boy be made a fool of, even if I have to sacrifice a little of my own -personal comfort." - -"Yes, that's all very well," said Lord Musselburgh, gloomily, "but I did -not bargain for your going away like that on the only evening I shall be -here. If I had known--" - -He was on the point of saying he would not have come down: but that -would have been too bold an avowal. He suddenly hit upon another happy -suggestion. - -"You said that Vin had only those two on board with him? Well, if he -asks you to dine with him, won't he ask me too?" - -Mrs. Ellison laughed, and shook her head. - -"No, no. Another stranger would put them on their guard. I must manage -my Private Investigation all by myself. But you need not look so -disconsolate. There are some really nice people here, as you'll find -out by-and-bye; and the Drexel girls are driving over from Great -Marlow--they are Americans, so you will be properly appreciated: they -will try their best to make you happy." - -"How late shall you stay on board Vin's boat?" he asked, heedless of -these smaller attractions. - -"I shall be back here by ten--perhaps by half-past nine." - -"Is that a promise?" - -"Yes, it is--ten at latest." - -"Otherwise I should go back to town in the afternoon," said he, frankly. - -"What nonsense!" the young widow exclaimed (but she did not seem -resentful). "Well, now, I must go along to the _White Rose_, and make -my peace, and angle for an invitation; and then, if I get it, I must -concoct my excuses for Mrs. Lawrence. Anyhow I shall be on board the -_Villeggiatura_ all the afternoon; and then I hope to have the pleasure -of introducing you to Louie Drexel--that is the young lady I have -designed for Vin, when he has shaken off those adventurers and come to -his right mind." - -Almost immediately thereafter Mrs. Ellison had secured a boatman to pull -her along to the _White Rose_; and as she drew near, she perceived that -Maisrie Bethune was alone in the stern of the house-boat, standing -upright on the steering-thwart, and with both hands holding a pair of -field-glasses to her eyes--an unconscious attitude that showed the -graceful figure of the girl to the best advantage. - -The observant visitor could also remark that her costume was simplicity -itself: a blouse of white soft stuff, with wide sleeves and tight cuffs; -a belt of white silk round her waist; and a skirt of blue serge. She -wore no head-covering; and her neatly-braided hair caught several -soft-shining hues from the sun--not a wonder and glory of hair, perhaps, -(as Vin Harris would have deemed it) but very attractive all the same to -the feminine eye, and somehow suggestive of girlhood, and making for -sympathy. And then, when a "Good-morning!" brought round a startled -face and a proud, clear look that was nothing abashed or ashamed, Mrs. -Ellison's conscience smote her that she had made use of the word -adventuress, and bade her wait and see. - -"Good-morning!" Maisrie Bethune answered; and there came a touch of -colour to the fine and sensitive features as she knew that the young -matron was regarding her with a continuation of the curiosity of the -preceding afternoon. - -"Have the gentlemen deserted you? Are you all alone?" Mrs. Ellison -said. - -"Oh, no; they are inside," was the response. "Would you like to see Mr. -Harris? Shall I call him?" - -"If you would be so kind!"--and therewith Maisrie disappeared into the -saloon, and did not return. - -It was Vincent that came out--with terrible things written on his brow. - -"Don't look at me like that, Vincent Harris!" Mrs. Ellison exclaimed, -half-laughing and half-annoyed. "What have I done? It is you who are -so hasty and inconsiderate. But I've come to make it all up with you; -and to ask you to ask me to dine with you to-night." - -"No, thank you, aunt," he said, civilly enough. "You are very kind; but -the fact is you would come with a prejudice; and so you'd better not -come at all." - -Well, she had to be circumspect; for not only was her own boatman behind -her, but there was a possibility of some stray sentence penetrating into -the saloon. - -"Come," she said, in a sort of undertone, to him; and she had a pretty, -coaxing, goodnatured way with her when she chose, "I am not going to -allow you to quarrel with me, Vin; and I bring a flag of truce; and -honourable proposals. I saw you were offended with me last evening; and -perhaps I was a little selfish in refusing your invitation; but you see -I confess the error of my ways, for here I am begging you to ask me -again." - -"Oh, if you put it that way, aunt--" - -"Oh, no, I don't put it that way!" she said. "Not if you speak like -that. Come, be amiable! I've just been talking to Lord Musselburgh--" - -"And, of course, you crammed all your wild ideas into his head!" he -exclaimed. - -"Whoever heard of poor me having ideas!" she said, with a winning -good-humour to which he could not but yield. "It isn't for me to have -ideas; but I may have prejudices; and I'm going to leave them, all on -board the _Villeggiatura_ this evening, if you say yes." - -"Of course I say yes--when you are like yourself, aunt," he responded at -once, "and I shall be very glad indeed. And what is more," said he, in -a still lower tone, "when you have really met--certain people--and when -you have to confess that you have been unjust, I don't mean to triumph -over you. Not a bit. If you have done any injustice, you know yourself -how to make it up--to them. Now that's all right and settled: and I'm -really glad you're coming. Seven o'clock; and the dress you've got on." - -"Oh, but, mind you," said she, "you don't seem to appreciate my goodness -in humbling myself so as to pacify your honourable worship. Do you know -what I shall have to do besides? How am I to explain to the Lawrences -my running away from their party? And here is Lord Musselburgh come -down; and the Drexel girls are expected; so you see what I am doing for -you, Vin--" - -"You're always good to me, aunt--when you choose to be reasonable and -exercise your common-sense--" - -"Common-sense!" she retorted, with a malicious laugh in her eyes. Then -she said, quite seriously: "Very well, Vin: seven o'clock: that is an -excellent hour, leaving us all a nice long evening; for I must get back -to the _Villeggiatura_ early." - -And so that was all well and amicably settled. But Master Vin, though -young in years, had not tumbled about the world for nothing; and a -little reflection convinced him that his pretty aunt's change of -purpose--her abandonment of her resolve to remain discreetly aloof--had -not been prompted solely, if at all, by her wish to have that little -misunderstanding between him and her removed. That could have been done -at any time; a few words of apology and appeal, and there an end. This -humble seeking for an invitation which she had definitely refused the -day before meant more than that; it meant that she had resolved to find -out something further about these strangers. Very well, then, she was -welcome: at the same time he was resolved to receive this second visit -not as he had received the first. He was no longer anxious about the -impression these two friends of his might produce on this the first of -his relatives to meet them. She might form any opinion she chose: he -was indifferent. Nay, he would stand by them on every point; and -justify them; and defy criticism. If he had dared he would have gone to -Maisrie and said: "My aunt is coming to dinner to-night; but I will not -allow you to submit yourself to any ordeal of inspection. You shall -dress as you like, as carelessly or as neatly as you like; you shall -wear your hair hanging down your back or braided up, without any thought -of her; you shall be as silent as you wish--and leave her, if she -chooses, to call you stupid, or shy, or sulky, or anything else." And -he would have gone to the old man and said: "Talk as much and as long as -ever you have a mind; you cannot babble o' green fields too discursively -for me; I, at all events, am sufficiently interested in your claims of -proud lineage, in your enthusiasm about Scotland and Scottish song, in -your reminiscences of many lands. Be as self-complacent and pompous as -you please; fear nothing; fear criticism least of all." And perhaps, in -like manner, he would have addressed Mrs. Ellison herself: "My dear -aunt, it is not they who are on their trial, it is you. It is you who -have to show whether you have the courage of honest judgment, or are the -mere slave of social custom and forms." For perhaps he, too, had -imbibed a little of the "Stand Fast, Craig Royston!" spirit? Bravado may -be catching--especially where an innocent and interesting young creature -of eighteen or so is in danger of being exposed to some deadly approach. - -Of course this carelessly defiant attitude did not prevent his being -secretly pleased when, as seven o'clock drew near, he perceived that -Maisrie Bethune had arranged herself in an extremely pretty, if clearly -inexpensive, costume; and also he was in no wise chagrined to find that -Mrs. Ellison, on her arrival, appeared to be in a very amiable mood. -There was no need to ask her "O come ye in peace here, or come ye in -war?": her manner was most bland; in particular she was adroitly -flattering and fascinating towards old George Bethune, who accepted -these little attentions from the charming widow with a grave and -consequential dignity. The young host refused to sit at the head of the -table; he had the places arranged two and two--Mrs. Ellison, of course, -as the greater stranger and the elder woman, on his right, and Maisrie -opposite to him. During the general dinner-talk, which was mostly about -the crowd, and the races, and the dresses, Mrs. Ellison casually -informed her nephew that she had that afternoon won two bets, and also -discovered that she and Lord Musselburgh were to meet at the same house -in Scotland the coming autumn: perhaps this was the explanation of her -extreme and obvious good humour. - -And if any deep and sinister design underlay this excessive amiability -on her part, it was successfully concealed; meantime all was -pleasantness and peace; and the old gentleman, encouraged by her artless -confidences, spoke more freely and frankly about the circumstances of -himself and his granddaughter than was his wont. - -"I see some of the papers are indignant about what they call the vulgar -display of wealth at Henley regatta," the young widow was saying, in a -very unconcerned and easy fashion; "but I wish those gentlemen would -remember that there is such a thing as imputation of motives, and that -imputing motives is a common resource of envy. If I have a house-boat, -and try to make it as pretty as ever I can, both inside and out, why -should that be considered display of wealth--display of any sort? I -like nice things and comfortable things around me; I don't mind -confessing it; I am a selfish woman--" - -"There are some who know better, aunt," her nephew interposed. - -"Young gentleman," said she, promptly, "your evidence isn't worth -anything, for you have expectations. And I am not to be flattered. I -admit that I am a selfish and comfort-loving woman; and I like to see -pretty things around me, and an abundance of them; and if I can only -have these at the cost of being charged with ostentation and display, -very well, I will pay the price. If it comes to that, I never saw -anything beautiful or desirable in poverty. Poverty is not beautiful; -never was, never is, never will be beautiful; it is base and squalid and -sordid; it demeans men's minds, and stunts their bodies. I dare say -poverty is an excellent discipline--for the rich, if they would only -submit to a six mouths' dose of it now and again; but it is not a -discipline at all for the poor; it is a curse; it is the most cruel and -baleful thing in the world, destroying self-respect, destroying hope, -ambition, everything. Oh, I know the heresy I'm talking. There's Master -Vin's papa: he is never done preaching the divine attributes of poverty; -and I have no doubt there are a good many others who would be content to -fall down and worship _la bonne deesse de la pauvrete_--on L30,000 a -year!" - -Master Vin sniggered: he was aware that this was not the only direction -in which the principles of the philosopher of Grosvenor Place were -somewhat inconsistent with his practice. However, it was old George -Bethune who now spoke--as one having experience. - -"I quite agree," said he to Mrs. Ellison. "I can conceive of nothing -more demoralising to the nature of man or woman than harsh and hopeless -poverty, a slavery from which there is no prospect of escape. My -granddaughter and I have known what it is to be poor; we know it now; -but in our case every day brings possibilities--we breathe a wider air, -knowing that at any moment news may come. Then fancy plays her part; -and imagination can brighten the next day for us, if the present be dark -enough. Hopeless poverty--that is the terrible thing; the weary toil -leading to nothing; perhaps the unfortunate wretch sinking deeper and -deeper into the Slough of Despond. Maisrie and I have met with trials; -but we have borne them with a stout heart; and perhaps we have been -cheered--at least I know I have been--by some distant prospect of the -Bonnie Mill-dams o' Balloray, and a happier future for us both." - -"Balloray?" she repeated, inquiringly. - -"Balloray, in Fife. Perhaps you have never heard of the Balloray -law-suit, and I will not inflict any history of it upon you at present," -he continued, with lofty complaisance. "I was merely saying that -poverty is not so hard to bear when there are brighter possibilities -always before you. If, in our case, we are barred in law by the Statute -of Limitations, there is no Statute of Limitations in the chapter of -accidents. And some remarkable instances have occurred. I remember one -in which a father, two sons, and a daughter were all drowned at once by -the sinking of a ship, and the property went bodily over to the younger -branch of the family, who had been penniless for years. It is the -unexpected that happens, according to the saying; and so we move from -day to day towards fresh possibilities; and who can tell what morning -may not bring us a summons to make straight for the Kingdom of Fife? -Not for myself do I care; I am too old now; it is for my granddaughter -here; and I should pass happily away and contented if I could leave her -in sole and undisputed possession of the ancient lands of the Bethunes -of Balloray." - -What pang was this that shot through Vincent's heart? He suddenly saw -Maisrie removed from him--a great heiress--unapproachable--guarded by -this old man with his unconquerable pride of lineage and birth. _She_ -might not forget old friends; but _he_? The Harris family had plenty of -money; but they had nothing to add to the fesse between three mascles, -_or_, and the otter's head; nor had any of their ancestors, so far as -was known, accompanied Margaret of Scotland on her marriage with the -Dauphin of France, or taken arms along with the great Maximilien de -Bethune, duc de Sully. In imagination the young man saw himself a -lonely pedestrian in Fifeshire, regarding from a distance a vast -baronial building set amid black Scotch firs and lighter larches, and -not daring even to draw near the great gate with the otter's head in -stone over the archway. He saw the horses being brought round to the -front entrance--a beautiful white Arab and a sturdy cob: the hall door -opens--the heiress of Balloray descends the wide stone steps--she is -assisted to mount, and pats that beautiful white creature on the neck. -And will she presently come cantering by--her long hair flowing to the -winds, as fair as it used to be in the olden days when the shifting -lights and mists of Hyde Park gave it ever-varying hues? Can he steal -aside somewhere?--he has no desire to claim recognition! She has -forgotten the time when, in the humble lodgings she used to sing "_Je ne -puis rien donner, qu' mon coeur en mariage_"; she has wide domains now; -and wears an ancient historic name. And so she goes along the white -highway, and under the swaying boughs of the beeches, until she is lost -in a confusion of green and gold... - -"And in the meantime," said Mrs. Ellison (Vincent started: had that -bewildering and far-reaching vision been revealed to him all in one -brief, breathless second?) "in the meantime, Mr. Bethune, you must -derive a great deal of comfort and solace from your literary labours." - -"My literary labours," said the old man, slowly and absently, "I am -sorry to say, are mostly perfunctory and mechanical. They occupy -attention and pass the time, however; and that is much. Perhaps I have -written one or two small things which may survive me for a year or two; -but if that should be so, it will be owing, not to any merit of their -own, but to the patriotism of my countrymen. Nay, I have much to be -thankful for,", he continued, in the same resigned fashion. "I have -been spared much. If I had been a famous author in my younger days, I -should now be reading the things I had written then with the knowledge -that I was their only reader. I should be thinking of my contemporaries -and saying 'At one time people spoke of me as now they are speaking of -you.' It is a kind of sad thing for a man to outlive his fame; for the -public is a fickle-minded creature, and must have new distractions; but -now I cannot complain of being forgotten, for I never did anything -deserving of being remembered." - -"Grandfather," said Maisrie, "surely it is unfair of you to talk like -that! Think of the many friends you have made through your writings." - -"Scotch friends, Maisrie, Scotch friends," he said. "I admit that. The -Scotch are not among the forgetful ones of the earth. If you want to be -made much of," he said, turning to Mrs. Ellison, "if you want to be -regarded with a constant affection and gratitude, and to have your -writings remembered and repeated, by the lasses at the kirn, by the -ploughman in the field, by gentle and simple alike, then you must -contrive to be born in Scotland. The Scottish heart beats warm, and is -constant. If there is a bit of heather or a blue-bell placed on my -grave, it will be by the hand of a kindly Scot." - -Dinner over, they went out and sate in the cool twilight and had coffee, -while the steward was clearing away within. Mrs. Ellison, faithful to -her promise to Lord Musselburgh, said she had not long to stay; but her -nephew, having a certain scheme in his mind, would not let her go just -yet; and by and bye, when the saloon had been lit up, he asked her, in a -casual kind of fashion, whether before she went she would not like to -hear Miss Bethune sing something. - -"Oh, I should like it of all things!" she replied instantly, with a -reckless disregard of truth. - -Maisrie glanced at her grandfather. - -"Yes, certainly--why not?" said he. - -"Then," said their young host, "I propose we go in to the saloon again; -it will be quieter." For there was still a plash of oars on the river, -and an echoing call of voices in the meadows beyond. - -When they had returned into the saloon, Maisrie took up her violin; and -Mrs. Ellison bravely endeavoured to assume an air of interested -expectancy. The fact was she disliked the whole proceeding; here would -be some mere exhibition of a schoolgirl's showy accomplishments; she -would have to say nice things; and she hated telling lies--when nothing -was to be gained. Maisrie made some little apology; but said that -perhaps Mrs. Ellison had not heard the _Claire Fontaine_, which is a -favourite song of the Canadians. Then she drew her bow across the -strings. - -Vincent need not have been so anxious. Hardly had Maisrie begun with - - "_A la claire fontaine,_ - _M'en allant promener--_" - -than Mrs. Ellison's air of forced attention instantly vanished; she -seemed surprised; she listened in a wondering kind of way to the low, -clear tones of the girl's voice that were so curiously sincere and -penetrating and simple. Not a schoolgirl's showing off, this; but a -kind of speech, that reached the heart. - - "_Sur la plus haute branche_ - _Le rossignol chantait._ - _Chante, rossignol, chante,_ - _Toi qui as le coeur gai._ - _Lui ya longtemps que je t'aime,_ - _Jamais je ne t'oublierai._" - -Did she notice the soft dwelling on the _r_'s, Vincent asked himself; -and had she ever heard anything so strangely fascinating? Then the -simple pathos of the story--if there was any story-- - - "_Chante, rossignol, chante,_ - _Toi qui as le coeur gai;_ - _Tu as le coeur a rire,_ - _Moi je l'ai-t-a pleurer._ - - _Tu as le coeur a rire,_ - _Moi j'e l'ai-t-a pleurer:_ - _J'ai perdu ma maitresse_ - _Sans l'avoir merite._ - _Lui ya longtemps que je t'aime,_ - _Jamais je ne l'oublierai._" - - -"That is enough," said Maisrie, with a smile, and she laid the violin in -her lap. "It is too long. You never hear it sung altogether in -Canada--only a verse here and there--or perhaps merely the refrain--" - -"But is there more?--oh, please sing the rest of it--it is -delightful--so quaint, and simple, and charming!" Mrs. Ellison -exclaimed; and Master Vin was a proud and glad young man; he knew that -Maisrie had all unaided struck home. - -The girl took up her violin again, and resumed: - - "_J'ai perdu ma maitresse_ - _Sans l'avoir merite._ - _Pour un bouquet de roses_ - _Que je lui refusai._ - - _Pour un bouquet de roses_ - _Que je lui refusai._ - _Je voudrais que la rose_ - _Fut encore au rosier._ - - _Je voudrais que la rose_ - _Fut encore au rosier,_ - _Et moi et ma maitresse_ - _Dans les mem's amities._ - _Lui ya longtemps que je t'aime,_ - _Jamais je ne t'oublierai!_" - - -Well, when the singing, if it could be called singing, was over, Mrs. -Ellison made the usual little compliments, which nobody minded one way -or the other. But presently she had to leave; and while she was being -rowed up the river by her nephew she was silent. When they reached the -_Villeggiatura_ (the people were all outside, amid the confused light of -the lanterns in the dusk) she said to him, in a low voice, as she bade -him good-bye-- - -"Vin, let me whisper something to you--a confession. _Claire Fontaine_ -has done for me. That girl is a good girl. She is all right, any way." - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - - AN ALARM. - - -On a certain still, clear, moonlight night a dog-cart containing two -young men was being driven away from the little town of Mendover, out -into the wide, white, silent country. The driver was Lord Musselburgh, -and he seemed in high spirits, talking to his companion almost -continuously, while he kept the stout little cob going at a rattling -pace. - -"I am more pleased than I can tell you," he was saying. "Quite a -triumph! Why, you took to it as a duck takes to water. Of course -there's something in having a responsive audience; and you can always -get a noble band of patriots to cheer your proposal for a progressive -income-tax when not one in ten of them has any income-tax to pay. I'm -afraid they weren't quite so enthusiastic about your scheme of -compulsory insurance; indeed they seemed a little disappointed and -offended; the Champion of the Proletariat was playing it a little low -down on them; but a heavily increasing income-tax--oh, yes, that was -splendid!--they saw the Rothschilds caught at last, and had visions of a -land in which there shall be no more poor-rates or police-rates, perhaps -not even water-rates or gas-rates. But it was your confounded coolness -that surprised me--no beating about the bush--walking straight into -it--and without preparation, too--" - -"I knew what I had to say," Vincent interposed, with a becoming modesty, -"and it seemed simple enough to say it." - -"Yes, and so it is--when you have acquired the knack of forgetting -yourself," said the young nobleman, oracularly. "And that appears to -have come naturally to you, my boy. However, this is why I am so -particularly pleased with your successful first appearance," Lord -Musselburgh proceeded, as the dog-cart went bowling along the silent, -white highway, between the black hedges. "I am about to unfold to you a -great idea, Vin--perhaps prematurely, but you will be discreet. The -project is mine; but I want help to carry it through; you and I must -work together; and years and years hence we shill be recognised as the -Great Twin Brethren, who saved the falling fortunes of England." - -Was he in jest or earnest? Vincent, knowing his friend's sub-cynical -habit of speech, listened without interposing a word. - -"We shall earn for ourselves a deathless renown, at very little cost--to -us; it's the other people who will have to pay, and we shall have all -the glory. Now what I propose is briefly this: I propose to give all -those good folk who profess a warm regard for their native country a -chance of showing what their patriotism is worth. I don't want them to -fight; there isn't any fighting going on at present to speak of; and in -any case the rich old merchants, and maiden ladies, and portly bishops, -and ponderous judges--well, they'd make an awkward squad to drill; but I -mean to give them an opportunity of testifying to their affection for -the land of their birth; and you, my blazing young Tory-Democrat, if you -can speak as freely as you spoke to-night, you must carry the fiery -torch north, south, east, and west--till you've secured Westminster -Abbey for both of us, or at least a tablet in St. Paul's. Then look -what a subject for your eloquence you have--the guarding of England from -any possible combination of her foes--the island-citadel made -impregnable--'compass'd by the inviolate sea'--defence not defiance--you -understand the kind of thing. But really, Vin, you know, there is going -to be an awful stramash, as my old nurse used to say, in Europe before -the century is out; and England's safety will lie in her being strong -enough to remain aloof. And how? Why, by trebling her present navy." - -"Trebling her present navy!" Vincent repeated, in a vague sort of way. - -"Yes," Musselburgh went on, coolly. "And it can easily be done, without -involving a single farthing of taxation. I want the people of this -country to show what they can do voluntarily; I want them to make a -tremendous effort to render Great Britain secure from attack for a -century at least; and the manner of doing it is to form a National -Patriotic Fund, to which everybody, man and woman, merchant and -apprentice, millionaire and club-waiter, can subscribe, according to -their means and the genuineness of their patriotism. Here is a chance -for everybody; here is a test of all those professions of love of -country. Why, it would become a point of honour, with the very meanest, -if the nation were thoroughly aroused, and if a splendid example were -set in high places. The Queen, now--who is more directly interested in -the safety of the country than she is?--why should she not head the list -with L100,000? I would call the fund the Queen's Fund; and I should not -wonder if we were to get two or three maniacs--very useful -maniacs--patriots they would have been called in other days--to cut -their possessions in half, and hand the one half bodily over to Her -Majesty: that would be something like an example!" - -"But is it all a wild speculation, Musselburgh?" asked Vincent, who was -puzzled. "Or do you mean it seriously?" - -"Ha and hum," said the young peer, significantly. "That depends. I -should want to sound some of the dukes about it. And first of all I -must have some sort of scheme ready, to get rid of obvious objections. -They might say 'Oh, you want to treble the Navy? Then in twenty years -you'll find yourself with a crowd of obsolete ships, and all your money -gone.' That is not what I mean at all. I mean the formation of an -immense voluntary national fund, which will keep the Navy at double or -treble its present strength, not by a sudden multiplication of ships, -but by gradually adding vessels of the newest construction, as -improvements are invented. An immense fund, doubtless; for of course -there would be maintenance; but what couldn't a rich country like -England do if she chose? And that's what I'm coming to, with regard to -you, my young Demosthenes. It would be infinitely better--it would be -safer--it would be building on securer foundations--if the demand for -such a movement came from the country itself. If the Queen, and the -dukes, and the millionaires were to subscribe as if in answer to an -appeal from the people, the enthusiasm would be tremendous; it would be -such a thing as never happened before in the history of England: talk -about noble ladies flinging their jewels into the public treasury?--why, -every school-girl would bring out her hoarded pocket-money, with her -lips white with patriotic fervour. England can subscribe on all -possible occasions for the benefit of other countries: for once let her -subscribe on her own behalf!" Lord Musselburgh went on, though it might -have been hard to say what half-mocking bravado intermingled with his -apparent enthusiasm. "And that's where you would come in. You would be -the emissary, the apostle, the bearer of the fiery torch. You've done -very well with the grocers' assistants of Mendover; but fancy having to -wake up England, Canada, Australia, and the Cape to the necessity for -making the Mother Country once for all invulnerable, in the interests of -peace and universal freedom. Why, I could become eloquent about it -myself. They cheered your graduated income-tax; but what would they say -to this? Fancy what could be done if every man in this country were to -pledge himself to give a year's income! We don't ask him to go out and -have his legs or his arms amputated, or his head shot off; we only ask -for a year's income--to secure peace and prosperity for himself and his -children and his children's children. If there is any patriotism in the -country at all, who would say no? And then when there is an iron belt -round England, and when there is a floating mass of iron that could be -sent at any moment to form a wall round any of her dependencies, then, I -suppose, there might be a splendid assemblage in Westminster Hall; and -you and I--as the instigators of this great national movement--but my -imagination stops short: I don't know what they will make of us." - -He himself had to stop short, for he was passing through a wide gateway -into the grounds surrounding the Bungalow, and the carriage-drive was -almost invisible under the overshadowing trees. Presently they had drawn -up in front of the long, low, rambling house; and here were lit windows, -and an open door, and servants. The two young men descended, and -entered, and went into the billiard-room, where cigars and soda-water -and similar things had been set out in readiness for them; and here Lord -Musselburgh, lying back in a cane-bottomed chair, proceeded to talk in a -less random fashion about this project of his, until he had almost -persuaded his companion that there was something reasonable and -practicable in it, if only it could be properly initiated. - -"Anyhow," said he to his guest, as they were both retiring for the -night, "it is some big movement like that, Vin, my lad, that you want to -get identified with, if your aim is to make a position in English public -life. You have advantages. You can speak well. You will have plenty -of money. You are beginning with the proletariat--that is laying a -foundation of popularity. You have youth and heaps of strength on your -side. Then ---- is known to be your friend. What more?" - -What more, indeed? The future seemed to smile on this young man; and if -his dreams, waking or sleeping, had been of great achievements and -public triumphs, who could have wondered? But curiously enough, just at -this time, the forecasts that came to him in moments of quiet were apt -to be sombre. He dreaded he hardly knew what. And these vague -forebodings of the day took a more definite shape in the far-reaching -visions of the night; for again and again there recurred to him that -phantasmal picture that had suddenly startled him when old George -Bethune was talking of the possibilities that might be lying in store -for his granddaughter. Vin Harris had never seen Balloray--did not know -where it was, in fact; but night after night he beheld with a strange -distinctness the big baronial building, and the black firs, and the gate -with the otter's head in stone. Had that been all! But as regularly -there came forth the tall young girl with the long-flowing hair; and he -was a poor wanderer, cowering away from recognition; and again she would -ride by, along the white road, until she was lost in the dappled sun and -shadow under the beeches. Then there was a song somewhere--perhaps it -was the trembling leaves that whispered the refrain--but it was all -about separation, and loneliness, and the sadness of remembrance and of -loss. _Chante, rossignol, chante, toi qui as le coeur gai_--this was -what he heard, or seemed to hear, away in that distant land, where he -had been left alone ... _J'ai perdu ma maitresse, sans l'avoir merite_ -... It was strange that no birds sang in these woods, that no lark hung -quivering in those skies: all was silence--save for that continuous -murmur of farewell.... _Lui ya longtemps que je t'aime, jamais je ne -t'oublierai_. And sometimes the murmur rose into a larger monotone; the -big grey building, and the black firs, and the highway, and the beeches, -disappeared; and behold in their stead was a great breadth of sea, -desolate, and rain-swept, and void of all sign of life. And was this -the barrier now between him and her? Not merely that she was the -heiress of Balloray, under the guardianship of her implacably proud old -grandfather, but that she was away in some far land, beyond those -never-ending myriad voices of the deep? ... _Pour un bouquet de roses, -que je lui refusai_ ... What wrong had he done her? What had he denied -her, in the time when they were as boy and girl together--when there was -no thought of her being the heiress of Balloray--when she used to walk -down through Hyde Park, in her simple dress, and sit on the bench, while -her grandfather read his newspaper? Then the grey dawn would come; and -he would awake to the knowledge that he had been tortured by mere -phantasies; and yet these left something in his mind, even during the -actual and practical daylight hours. He begun to wish that there was -some bond--of what nature he had not determined--for it was all a vague -longing and wistful desire--a bond that could so bind Maisrie and him -together that that great width of sea should not intervene. For it was a -sorrowful kind of thing--even when the white hours of the daylight told -him he had only seen it in a dream. - -But apart from all these dim anxieties and this haunting unrest, came -the strictly matter-of-fact consideration that within an appreciable -time old George Bethune and his granddaughter would be returning to the -United States. That was no spectral ocean that would then lie between -Maisrie and him, but three thousand miles of the Atlantic; and who could -tell when the two wanderers might ever see England again? Nay, had not -he himself been implored to help in bringing about this separation? -Maisrie had begged of him to urge upon her grandfather the necessity of -getting the American book done first, before setting out on the poetic -pilgrimage through Scotland which was to yield fruit of another kind; -and, of course, if the old man consented, the first step to be taken was -a voyage to New York. Vincent had drawn many a fancy picture of a little -group of three, wandering away through the rich-hued autumn days, by -"lone St. Mary's silent lake," or by the banks of the silver Tweed; but -now all that was to be sacrificed; and he himself was to do what he -could towards sending the old man back to America, and Maisrie with him. -Then there would be no more of the long, quiet days of study, made happy -by anticipations of the evening; no more of the pleasant little dinners -in this or that restaurant; no more of those wonderful twilights in the -little parlour, with their enchantments of music and happy converse. -London, with Maisrie Bethune three thousand miles away: that would be a -strange thing--that he could even now hardly imagine to himself. - -Nay, it was a thing that he looked forward to with such an unreasoning -dread and dismay that he began to construct all sorts of mad schemes for -defeating any such possibility; and at last he hit upon one that seemed -more or less practicable, while it would in the meantime virtually -absolve him from his promise to Maisrie. On the morning after the -meeting of the Mendover Liberal Association, the two young men were -returning to town by train; and Vincent said to his companion-- - -"You were telling me the other night of the Scotch newspaper-man whom -you got to know in New York: what did you say his name was?" - -"Oh, you mean Hugh Anstruther? I hope I spoke no ill of him; for an -enthusiastic patriotism such as his is really something to admire in -these days. A capital fellow, Hugh; until I fell across him in New York -I did not know that I had one virtue transcending all the other virtues, -and that was simply my being a brother Scot." - -"What did you say was the name of the paper that he edits?" - -"The _Western Scotsman_." - -"And it was he who gave Mr. Bethune a letter of introduction to you?" - -But here Lord Musselburgh's manner instantly changed: he had been -answering these questions in a careless way, looking out of the carriage -window most of the time: now he turned to his companion, and regarded -him with some scrutiny. - -"Why do you ask, Vin?" he said. "Do you want to find out something -further about the old man?" - -Vincent's forehead flushed; and his eyes gloomed dark. - -"I do not," he made answer, in distinct tones. "I thank goodness my -nature is not so suspicious. It seems to me extraordinary that two -human beings who have done nothing in the world to deserve it should be -regarded with a constant mistrust and doubt. Why? Do you suspect -everybody else in the same way?" - -"Oh, don't say that I suspect them," Lord Musselburgh exclaimed at -once--for he was an exceedingly good-natured young man and had no wish -to offend. "I don't know them well enough--don't know anything at all -about them, in fact." - -"You told me yourself that my aunt and you had been talking them over; -and I gathered enough from what you said," was the younger man's retort. - -"Mrs. Ellison is naturally anxious about anything that concerns your -future, Vin--or seems likely to concern it," Musselburgh said. "And you -should be the last to object." - -"But I do object," he said, stiffly. "I object altogether to her -canvassing the character of any friends of mine; and to her putting her -doubts and suspicions and hints about them into any third person's -imaginations. Oh, yes, I could make out quite clearly what she had been -saying. That night at Henley she came on a visit of inspection; it was -perfectly obvious. And what is more, she came with the hope of having -her suspicions confirmed; and I suppose she was horribly disappointed -that Maisrie Bethune did not drop her _h_'s, and that Mr. Bethune did -not beg the loan of a sovereign from her!" - -"Why so passionate, Vin--why so indignant?" his companion put in, -glancing at him curiously. - -"Because I say it is a shame--a monstrous shame," the young man said, -with flaming eyes, "that anyone should be insulted so! Is it their -fault that they have no friends, that they are unknown, that they are -poor? To be wealthy is to be virtuous, of course; if you have a long -balance at your bankers', you are above suspicion then; if you have -house-boats, and four-in-hands, and gold plate, you're all right. I -suppose," said he, altering his tone, "that it was on that very -evening--the evening of her inspection--that my aunt was kind enough to -talk over those two friends of mine with you, and tell you of all the -portentous things she suspected of them. But I presume she did not -repeat to you the very last words she used to me as she said -good-night?" - -"About what?" - -"About Miss Bethune," said Vincent--though it cost him an indescribable -effort to pronounce her name. - -"Well, I believe she did," Lord Musselburgh admitted. "For she had just -come away from hearing Miss Bethune sing some Canadian song or another; -and she was very much struck; and she said she had confessed as much to -you. Oh, more than that--I don't precisely remember the words. But -really, Vin, when you come to think of it, you must acknowledge that -there is not much guidance as to character, or antecedents, or any thing -else, in the mere singing of a song. Mrs. Ellison, who is always posing -as a callous woman of the world, is really very sympathetic and -generous, and warm-hearted; and she was quite taken captive by the charm -and simplicity of this _Claire Fontaine_--is that the name of it?--but -at the same time I should not place too great a value--" - -"I quite agree with you," the younger man said, interrupting without -apology. "I place no more value on my aunt's acquittal and commendation -than on her previous suspicions. And--and--if you don't mind, -Musselburgh, I would rather not have the question discussed further, nor -Miss Bethune's name mentioned in any way whatsoever." - -"Oh, but remember I said nothing against her," Lord Musselburgh finally -added, in perfect good humour. "How could I? I hope your new friends -are all you think them; and as for the young lady, it is difficult to -believe any harm of so refined and sweet a face. But I hope you won't -concern yourself too much with them, Vin; you have other, and perhaps -more serious, interests in life; and it seems to me that everything -promises well for you. Why, at this moment, man, don't you know what -ought to be occupying all your attention?" - -"What?" his companion asked--perhaps glad enough to get away from that -delicate topic. - -"At least I know what I should be thinking of if I were in your shoes. -I should be wondering how much space the editor of the _Mendover Weekly -Guardian_ was going to give me on Saturday morning next." - -It was another editor whom Vincent had in his mind at that moment. As -soon as he got back to London he wrote and despatched the following -letter, which was addressed to "Hugh Anstruther, Esq., _Western -Scotsman_ Office, New York, U.S.A." - -"DEAR SIR, - -"I hope you will be so kind as to consider the contents of this note as -strictly private and confidential. In a recent conversation with Lord -Musselburgh he informed me that it was you who had given a letter of -introduction to him to Mr. George Bethune; and from Mr. Bethune himself -I learn that he, Mr. Bethune, is about to bring out a volume on the -Scottish poets in America, as soon as he can conveniently get the -materials together. But to this end it would appear that he must -revisit the United States and Canada, to obtain particulars of the lives -of the various poets and verse-writers, and perhaps, also, examples of -their work. Now I wish to ask you, as a friend of Mr. Bethune's, -whether all this fatigue and travel might not be spared him, supposing -there were some person or persons in this country willing to defray the -cost of having those materials collected for him. To speak plainly, do -you, sir, know of any writer, connected with the press or otherwise, who -would undertake, for a sufficient consideration, to bring together -biographical memoranda of the authors in question, along with specimens -of their work, which could be sent over here to Mr. Bethune, for him to -put into shape and issue in book-form? Mr. Bethune, as you know, is an -old man, who must surely have had enough of travelling; moreover he has -in mind a leisurely ramble through Scotland which, while also leading to -literary results, would involve much less fatigue than a voyage to the -United States and Canada. I should be greatly obliged if you would tell -me whether you consider it practicable to collect those materials by -deputy; also, if you know of anyone capable of undertaking the task; and -what remuneration he would probably require. I beg you to forgive me, a -stranger, for thus appealing to you; but I know you will not grudge a -little trouble for the sake of a friend and a fellow Scotchman. - -"Yours faithfully and obediently, - "VINCENT HARRIS." - -After sending off that letter the young man's spirits lightened -considerably; he saw there was still a chance that Maisrie Bethune, her -grandfather, and himself might together set out on that coveted -perambulation of the legend-haunted districts of the North. And now he -and they had returned to their ordinary mode of life--which perhaps -pleased him better than the ostentatious festivities of Henley. Here -was no staring crowd, here were no suspicious friends, to break in upon -their close and constant companionship. He rejoiced in this isolation; -he wished for no fourth person at the quiet little dinners in the -restaurants; he had no desire that anyone should share the privacy of -the hushed small parlour where old George Bethune loftily discoursed of -poetry and philosophy, of ancient customs and modern manners, and where -Maisrie played pathetic Scotch airs on the violin, or sang in her low -clear voice of _le pont d'Avignon_ or perhaps of _Marianson, dame -jolie_. Moreover, he could not fail to perceive, and that with an -ever-increasing delight, that her old expression of sad and wistful -resignation was gradually being banished from her eyes; and not only -that, but a quite fresh colour was come into her cheeks, so that the -pale sun-tinge was less perceptible. Perhaps it was the companionship -of one nearer to her own age that had made a difference in her life; at -all events much of her former shyness was gone; she met his look -frankly, sometimes with a touch of gratitude, sometimes with simple -gladness, as if his mere presence was something that pleased her. When -she was watering the flowers in the little balcony, and caught sight of -him over the way, she nodded and smiled: he wondered whether it was that -faint-sun-tinge of the complexion that made her teeth seem so clearly -white. He began to forget those dreams of a wide intervening sea: this -present existence was so peaceable, and contented, and happy. And in -spite of Maisrie's injunction, those dreams of Scotland would recur: he -saw three newly-arrived strangers walking along Princes Street, -Edinburgh, in the silver glare of the morning; and the middle one of the -three--looking away up to the dusky shadows of the Castle rock--was no -other than Maisrie Bethune herself, with light and gladness shining in -her eyes. - -And what had old George Bethune to say to this constant association and -this fast friendship between the two young people? Well, old George -Bethune had an admirable capacity for enjoying the present moment; and -so long as the dinner was fairly cooked and the claret to his taste, so -long as he had a small and faithful audience to listen to his rhapsodies -about Scottish song and Scottish heroism, and so long as Maisrie's -violin was in tune and her hand as sensitive as ever on the trembling -strings, he did not seem to pay much heed to the future. Perhaps it was -but natural that one who had wandered so far and wide should welcome a -little peace at last; and perhaps he intentionally blinded his eyes; at -all events the young people were allowed the utmost freedom of -companionship--it was as if these three formed but one family. - -One night, as Vincent was about to leave, the old gentleman said to -him-- - -"About to-morrow evening: I presume we dine at Mentavisti's?" - -"Oh, yes, certainly: we've tried a good many places, and we can't do -better than Mentavisti's," the young man answered--as if it mattered one -brass farthing to him what sort of dinner there was, or where he got it, -so long as Maisrie was at the same table! - -"Ah, very well. For this is how I am situated," said Mr. Bethune, -gravely and grandly as befitted the seriousness of the theme. "I have -an appointment in Jermyn-street at six o'clock. I may be detained. Now -I can undertake to be at Mentavisti's Restaurant at seven--and when the -dinner-hour is once fixed, to play shilly-shally with it seems to me -abominable--but I am not so sure that I shall have time to return home -first. It will be better, therefore, and everyway safer, for Maisrie to -come down by herself in a cab--" - -"But mayn't I call for her?" the young man suggested at once. "You know -she would much rather walk down than drive." - -"Oh, very well, very well, if you don't mind," said Mr. Bethune, with a -lofty condescension--or indifference; while Maisrie, instead of being in -the least confused by this proposal, looked up with perfectly frank and -pleased eyes, apparently giving him a little message of thanks. - -Nor was she in the least embarrassed on the following evening, when he -was ushered upstairs by the landlady's daughter. Maisrie was alone in -the little parlour, ready-dressed except as regarded her gloves, and she -was putting a final touch to the few flowers with which she had adorned -the table. - -"Good evening," said she, quite placidly. "I will be with you in a -moment, as soon as I have dried my fingers." - -She disappeared for a second, and returned. He hesitated before -accompanying her to the door. - -"Won't you give me one of those flowers?" said he, rather breathlessly. - -She seemed a little surprised. - -"Now that I think of it," she said, "I have never seen you wear a flower -in your coat, as other gentlemen do. And I'm afraid there isn't one -here nearly fine enough--" - -"If you were to give me a flower, I should not destroy it by wearing it -in my coat!" said he. - -"Oh, merely a flower?" she asked. She went to the table. "Will this -one do?" - -It was a white geranium that she handed him, simply enough: he took out -his pocket-book, and carefully placed it between the leaves. For the -briefest instant she regarded him as if in wonder that he should seek to -preserve so worthless a trifle; but she made no remark; and then -unconcernedly and cheerfully she led the way downstairs, and together -they passed out into the open street. - -It was a marvellous and bewildering thing to think that he should be in -sole and complete charge of her, here in the midst of the great and busy -world of London. Did these hurrying people guess at his proud elation, -his new-found sense of guardianship and responsibility, his anxiety that -all things should be pleasant to her; or had they hardly time even to -notice this beautiful young creature, her step light as a fawn, fresh -colour in her fair cheeks, happiness radiant in her eyes? Perhaps they -heeded her and the tall and handsome youth by her side as little as she -heeded them; for indeed she seemed to be entirely engrossed in her -companion, talking, smiling, replying to him without a shadow of -self-consciousness or restraint. To him this new relationship was an -amazing kind of thing: she did not seem even to perceive it. To him it -was an epoch in his life, to be for ever remembered: to her--well, -nearly every evening she walked out in similar fashion with her -grandfather, and she did not appear to notice any difference: at least -she showed no sign. - -But all at once Maisrie altered her manner; and that was when he in the -lightness of his heart informed her that there was still a chance of -their setting out on that long contemplated pilgrimage to the various -poetic shrines of Scotland. - -"Mr. Harris," she said, proudly, "you made me a promise--" - -"Yes, I know I did," he said; "but things have changed, and I'm going to -explain to you; and I think you'll find everything satisfactory. But -first of all, before I begin, I wish you wouldn't call me 'Mr. Harris.' -It sounds detestable. You who are so natural and straightforward in all -your ways--why don't you call me Vincent?" - -"Don't you think that Mr. Vincent might be a fair compromise?" she asked -gently, and with her eyes lowered. - -"I've called you Maisrie once or twice, by accident, and you didn't seem -to mind," he pointed out. - -"I am sure I did not notice," she made answer at once. "How should I? -I am used to nothing else." - -"Then I am to be allowed to call you Maisrie?" said he, clutching -eagerly at this new-found privilege. "And you will call me -Vincent--when you find Mr. Vincent become too formal: is it a compact?" - -"Yes, it is--Mr. Vincent--if you like," said she, with a smile. "But -why do you make it so very serious?" - -"Because," said he, gravely, "when any solemn bargain is completed, -people shake hands to make it secure." - -"Not in the middle of Oxford-street?" she said. - -"We will postpone the ceremony, if you prefer it; and now I will begin -and tell you how it is still possible we may have that long ramble -through Scotland together. You were anxious that before anything of the -kind were attempted, your grandfather should go back to the United -States to get materials for his book on the Scottish poets in America. -Well, now, it seems a pity to make such a long voyage if it can be done -without; and so I have taken the liberty of sending over to New York to -see if there isn't some handy young fellow there--some clerk or -reporter--who would undertake to collect all the necessary materials, -and send them over here for your grandfather to work up. Then we could -go to Scotland all the same--that is, if you will let me accompany you." - -"Someone to collect the materials and send them over?" she repeated; and -then she said: "But would that be fair, Mr. Harris--Mr. Vincent--would -that be honest? Surely not! The book would not be my grandfather's -book at all; properly it would belong to the young man in New York." - -"I beg your pardon," said he, with decision. "He only supplies the -bricks; he does not build the house. When a Chancellor of the Exchequer -produces his budget, of course he claims it as his own; but he has got -his facts from the heads of departments, and most likely his quotations -have been hunted out for him by his private secretary. It would be your -grandfather's book, solely and wholly." - -"But the cost?" she said, after a second. "Supposing it were -practicable, the expense--" - -"Oh, never mind about that," said he, lightly. "It will be next to -nothing--you needn't mind about that. Our deputy in New York will find -very little difficulty in getting the memoranda that he wants. There is -no sort of unnecessary modesty about minor poets; they will be glad -enough to give him specimens of their work, as soon as it is known what -he aims at. And in Scotland," he continued (grown suddenly bold), -"don't you see how it would work? Your grandfather must have an -occasional morning to give to his MSS; then you and I could leave him in -absolute peace and quiet; and we might go away for a stroll up to -Arthur's Seat, or round the ramparts of the Castle, and return to him by -lunch-time. Wouldn't that be an excellent arrangement?" - -"Yes, that would be very nice indeed," said she, with a pleased -expression: she seemed to look forward to this close and constant -companionship as the most natural thing in the world. - -And in fact so sanguine was the young man about the success of his new -scheme that, when the three of them were seated at a small table in -Mentavisti's Restaurant, he ventured to hint to old George Bethune his -fond hope that he might be allowed to join in that prolonged excursion -through Scotland; and the old man at once acquiesced. - -"Yes, yes, why not?" he said; and then he went on, absently: "Yet my -nerve is not what it was. Sometimes I hesitate. It would grieve me more -than I can say if Maisrie here were to be disappointed. It is a long -time since I was in the country; perhaps I remember only the beautiful -things; and it is only of these she has heard me talk. When Sturrock -thinks of the old home, the dappled hills shine for him: you remember, -Maisrie?-- - - 'Oh native land! Oh cherished home, - I've sailed across the sea, - And, though my wandering footsteps roam, - My heart still turns to thee! - My thoughts and dreams are sweet and bright - With dew which love distils; - While every gleam of golden light - Falls on the Scottish hills.' - -He forgets the mists and the rain and the darkened days. And you, -Maisrie, you have been brought up under fair blue skies; you have never -learnt how sombre days and wild and driving clouds stir the imagination; -perhaps, if you stood in the very street where the 'bonnie Earl o' Moray -came sounding through the town,' you would see only the wet pavements -and the dull windows; and you might turn to me and say 'Is this what you -have talked about to me, grandfather?'" Then all of a sudden he seemed -to throw off this despondent fit as by a violent effort. "No, no!" said -he, in quite a different tone. "I will not believe but that there are -still yellow cornfields and silver lakes in bonnie Scotland, and the -lark singing as high in the heavens as when Tannahill, or Hogg, or -Motherwell paused to listen. I will show you the red rowans hanging -from the mountain crag, and the golden bracken down by the side of the -burn; and if we go still further away--to the lonely islands of the -western seas--then you must learn to forget the soft prettiness of the -sunnier south, and to let the mysterious charm of isolation hold you, -and the majesty of the darkened mountains, and the pathetic beauty of -the wandering veils of rain. I would sooner forget the mother that bore -me," he said, with a proud ring in his voice, "than believe that bonnie -Scotland had lost her glamour and wonder and fascination. And you would -be no holiday-tourist, Maisrie; you belong by blood to the 'land of wild -weather'; and imagination is part of the dowry of youth. No, no; I do -not fear. I--I made a mistake when I said I was afraid--I am not afraid -of you, Maisrie--not afraid of you--you have the fine sympathy, the -intelligence, the quick imagination that I can trust--I am not afraid of -you, Maisrie----" - -"You need not be afraid, grandfather," the girl said, gently--for she -saw that he was somewhat disturbed. "Why should you be afraid, -grandfather? I shall be looking with your eyes." - -But the curious thing was that despite all this talking about the -projected pilgrimage, it never seemed to come any nearer. No mention of -a date or even of any approximate time, was ever made. In like manner, -their return to America, though the old gentleman spoke of it now and -again as a fixed and definite and necessary thing, kept receding -backwards and backwards into a perfectly nebulous future. The present -moment was everything to old George Bethune, whether he was engaged with -a roe-deer cutlet at a restaurant in Regent-street, or lighting his pipe -and mixing his toddy on his return home, while he was descanting on -Barbour, and Drummond, and Sir David Lindesay, or Ramsay, and Ferguson, -and Burns. People were beginning to leave town; Vincent had received, -and declined, an invitation to join a big house-party in Argyllshire, -notwithstanding that it was to the same house that Mrs. Ellison and Lord -Musselburgh were going; but old George Bethune and his granddaughter -appeared to pay no heed to the changing times and seasons; their placid, -uneventful life seemed quite enough for them. And was it not enough for -this young man also, who had been admitted to be their constant -associate and friend? Why should he vex himself about literary schemes -that were none of his devising? Day by day he waved a good-morning to -Maisrie as she came to water her flowers, and an answer came from her -smiling eyes; sometimes he walked out into the parks in the afternoon, -with her grandfather and herself, and ever he rejoiced to see that the -fine peach-bloom on her cheek was surmounting the sun-tinge that had -been left there by travel; then in the evening they had all London to -choose from, as to where they should dine, with a quiet stroll homeward -thereafter, to music, and dominoes, and careless talk. What more? The -great outer world might go on its way, and welcome. - -But Master Vin was about to be startled out of this dreamful ease. At -last there came an answer to the communication he had sent to the editor -of the Western Scotsman, with many apologies for unavoidable delay: Mr. -Anstruther, it appeared, had been in Canada, taking his annual holiday -among his kinsmen and countrymen there. - - -"I must say your letter has astonished me beyond measure," the writer -went on, "and I would fain believe that there is some great mistake -somewhere, which is capable of explanation. It is quite true that when -I gave my venerable friend Mr. Bethune a note of introduction to Lord -Musselburgh, I was aware that he had in view various literary -projects--in fact, his brain teems with them as if he were a young man -of five-and-twenty--the _perfervidum ingenium Scotorum_ in his case has -taken hold of his imagination; but I cannot understand how he could have -included in these the publication of a volume on the Scottish poets in -America, for the simple reason that he must have known that such a work -was not only in progress here, but that it was near completion. Why, I -myself showed Mr. Bethune proofs of the early sheets of this volume; for -the author is a particular friend of mine; and as it was being set up, -he used to send me the sheets as they were printed; and Mr. Bethune -being in the habit of calling at my office, I not only showed them to -him, but I fancy I let him take some of them away, that he might read -them at his leisure. How he should now propose to bring out a similar -work--and bespeak Lord Musselburgh's patronage for it, as I presume he -did--passes my comprehension, except on the ground that, being an old -man, he may have suffered from some temporary attack of mental -aberration and forgetfulness. I would rather believe this than that a -man whom I had taken for a thorough Scot, loyal and true to the -backbone, and proud of his country and of his own name and lineage, -should be endeavouring to supplant another worker who is already in -possession of the field. However, no actual harm can be done; for the -volume I speak of is on the eve of publication, and no doubt it will be -issued simultaneously in England. That is all I have to say, on a -subject which at present seems to me to have something of a painful -aspect--though I hope a satisfactory explanation may be forthcoming. In -conclusion may I beg of you to keep this letter private? The facts are -as I have stated; but I would rather Mr. Bethune did not know you had -them from me. - -"Yours faithfully, - "HUGH ANSTRUTHER." - - -For some time Vincent sat with this letter in his hand, in a sort of -stupefaction. Curiously enough his first question to himself was--What -if Mrs. Ellison should get to know?--would she not triumphantly declare -that her worst suspicions had been confirmed? That was but a first -thought. There must be some explanation! He had not associated so -continually with George Bethune--he had not heard the old man's voice -thrill with proud emotion as he spoke of Scotland's hills and dales--he -had not seen his eyes fill with unbidden tears as he talked of his -granddaughter and the loneliness that might be in store for her--all for -nothing: not at once could he be convinced that this old man was a mere -charlatan, a thief, a begging-letter impostor. But he had been -startled; and when he reached his lodgings in that small thoroughfare, -he hardly dared look across the way: he knew not what to think. - - - - - END OF VOL. I. - - - - - LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, - STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS. - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAND FAST, CRAIG-ROYSTON! -(VOLUME I) *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42729 - -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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