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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Eve's Ransom, by George Gissing
+#3 in our series by George Gissing
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+Title: Eve's Ransom
+
+Author: George Gissing
+
+Release Date: July, 2003 [Etext# 4297]
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+[This file was first posted on January 1, 2002]
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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Eve's Ransom, by George Gissing
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+Edited by Charles Aldarondo Aldarondo@yahoo.com
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+edited by:
+Charles Aldarondo
+Aldarondo@yahoo.com
+
+George Gissing
+
+EVE'S RANSOM
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+On the station platform at Dudley Port, in the dusk of a February
+afternoon, half-a-dozen people waited for the train to Birmingham. A
+south-west wind had loaded the air with moisture, which dripped at
+moments, thinly and sluggishly, from a featureless sky. The lamps,
+just lighted, cast upon wet wood and metal a pale yellow shimmer;
+voices sounded with peculiar clearness; so did the rumble of a
+porter's barrow laden with luggage. From a foundry hard by came the
+muffled, rhythmic thunder of mighty blows; this and the long note of
+an engine-whistle wailing far off seemed to intensify the stillness
+of the air as gloomy day passed into gloomier night.
+
+In clear daylight the high, uncovered platform would have offered an
+outlook over the surrounding country, but at this hour no horizon
+was discernible. Buildings near at hand, rude masses of grimy brick,
+stood out against a grey confused background; among them rose a
+turret which vomited crimson flame. This fierce, infernal glare
+seemed to lack the irradiating quality of earthly fires; with hard,
+though fluctuating outline, it leapt towards the kindred night, and
+diffused a blotchy darkness. In the opposite direction, over towards
+Dudley Town, appeared spots of lurid glow. But on the scarred and
+barren plain which extends to Birmingham there had settled so thick
+an obscurity, vapours from above blending with earthly reek, that
+all tile beacons of fiery toil were wrapped and hidden.
+
+Of the waiting travellers, two kept apart from the rest, pacing this
+way and that, but independently of each other. They were men of
+dissimilar appearance; the one comfortably and expensively dressed,
+his age about fifty, his visage bearing the stamp of commerce; the
+other, younger by more than twenty years, habited in a way which
+made it; difficult to as certain his social standing, and looking
+about him with eyes suggestive of anything but prudence or content.
+Now and then they exchanged a glance: he of the high hat and caped
+ulster betrayed an interest in the younger man, who, in his turn,
+took occasion to observe the other from a distance, with show of
+dubious recognition.
+
+The trill of an electric signal, followed by a clanging bell,
+brought them both to a pause, and they stood only two or three yards
+apart. Presently a light flashed through the thickening dusk; there
+was roaring, grinding, creaking and a final yell of brake-tortured
+wheels. Making at once for the nearest third-class carriage, the man
+in the seedy overcoat sprang to a place, and threw himself
+carelessly back; a moment, and he was followed by the second
+passenger, who seated himself on the opposite side of the
+compartment. Once more they looked at each other, but without change
+of countenance.
+
+Tickets were collected, for there would be no stoppage before
+Birmingham: then the door slammed, and the two men were alone
+together.
+
+Two or three minutes after the train had started, the elder man
+leaned forward, moved slightly, and spoke.
+
+"Excuse me, I think your name must be Hilliard."
+
+"What then?" was the brusque reply.
+
+"You don't remember me?"
+
+"Scoundrels are common enough," returned the other, crossing his
+legs, "but I remember you for all that."
+
+The insult was thrown out with a peculiarly reckless air; it
+astounded the hearer, who sat for an instant with staring eyes and
+lips apart; then the blood rushed to his cheeks.
+
+"If I hadn't just about twice your muscle, my lad," he answered
+angrily, "I'd make you repent that, and be more careful with your
+tongue in future. Now, mind what you say! We've a quiet quarter of
+an hour before us, and I might alter my mind."
+
+The young man laughed contemptuously. He was tall, but slightly
+built, and had delicate hands.
+
+"So you've turned out a blackguard, have you?" pursued his
+companion, whose name was Dengate. "I heard something about that."
+
+"From whom?"
+
+"You drink, I am told. I suppose that's your condition now."
+
+"Well, no; not just now," answered Hilliard. He spoke the language
+of an educated man, but with a trace of the Midland accent.
+Dengate's speech had less refinement.
+
+"What do you mean by your insulting talk, then? I spoke to you
+civilly."
+
+"And I answered as I thought fit."
+
+The respectable citizen sat with his hands on his knees, and
+scrutinised the other's sallow features.
+
+"You've been drinking, I can see. I had something to say to you, but
+I'd better leave it for another time."
+
+Hilliard flashed a look of scorn, and said sternly--
+
+"I am as sober as you are."
+
+"Then just give me civil answers to civil questions."
+
+"Questions? What right have you to question me?"
+
+"It's for your own advantage. You called me scoundrel. What did you
+mean by that?"
+
+"That's the name I give to fellows who go bankrupt to get rid of
+their debts."
+
+"Is it!" said Dengate, with a superior smile. "That only shows how
+little you know of the world, my lad. You got it from your father, I
+daresay; he had a rough way of talking."
+
+"A disagreeable habit of telling the truth."
+
+"I know all about it. Your father wasn't a man of business, and
+couldn't see things from a business point of view. Now, what I just
+want to say to you is this: there's all the difference in the world
+between commercial failure and rascality. If you go down to
+Liverpool, and ask men of credit for their opinion about Charles
+Edward Dengate, you'll have a lesson that would profit you. I can
+see you're one of the young chaps who think a precious deal of
+themselves; I'm often coming across them nowadays, and I generally
+give them a piece of my mind."
+
+Hilliard smiled.
+
+"If you gave them the whole, it would be no great generosity."
+
+"Eh? Yes, I see you've had a glass or two, and it makes you witty.
+But wait a bit I was devilish near thrashing you a few minutes ago;
+but I sha'n't do it, say what you like. I don't like vulgar rows."
+
+"No more do I," remarked Hilliard; "and I haven't fought since I was
+a boy. But for your own satisfaction, I can tell you it's a wise
+resolve not to interfere with me. The temptation to rid the world of
+one such man as you might prove too strong."
+
+There was a force of meaning in these words, quietly as they were
+uttered, which impressed the listener.
+
+"You'll come to a bad end, my lad."
+
+"Hardly. It's unlikely that I shall ever be rich."
+
+"Oh! you're one of that sort, are you? I've come across Socialistic
+fellows. But look here. I'm talking civilly, and I say again it's
+for your advantage. I had a respect for your father, and I liked
+your brother--I'm sorry to hear he's dead."
+
+"Please keep your sorrow to yourself."
+
+"All right, all right! I understand you're a draughtsman at Kenn and
+Bodditch's?"
+
+"I daresay you are capable of understanding that."
+
+Hilliard planted his elbow in the window of the carriage and propped
+his cheek on his hand.
+
+"Yes; and a few other things," rejoined the well-dressed man. "How
+to make money, for instance.--Well, haven't you any insult ready?"
+
+The other looked out at a row of flaring chimneys, which the train
+was rushing past: he kept silence.
+
+"Go down to Liverpool," pursued Dengate, "and make inquiries about
+me. You'll find I have as good a reputation as any man living."
+
+He laboured this point. It was evident that he seriously desired to
+establish his probity and importance in the young man's eyes. Nor
+did anything in his look or speech conflict with such claims. He had
+hard, but not disagreeable features, and gave proof of an easy
+temper.
+
+"Paying one's debts," said Hilliard, "is fatal to reputation."
+
+"You use words you don't understand. There's no such thing as a
+debt, except what's recognised by the laws."
+
+"I shouldn't wonder if you think of going into Parliament. You are
+just the man to make laws."
+
+"Well, who knows? What I want you to understand is, that if your
+father were alive at this moment, I shouldn't admit that he had
+claim upon me for one penny."
+
+"It was because I understood it already that I called you a
+scoundrel."
+
+"Now be careful, my lad," exclaimed Dengate, as again he winced
+under the epithet. "My temper may get the better of me, and I should
+be sorry for it. I got into this carriage with you (of course I had
+a first-class ticket) because I wanted to form an opinion of your
+character. I've been told you drink, and I see that you do, and I'm
+sorry for it. You'll be losing your place before long, and you'll go
+down. Now look here; you've called me foul names, and you've done
+your best to rile me. Now I'm going to make you ashamed of
+yourself."
+
+Hilliard fixed the speaker with his scornful eyes; the last words
+had moved him to curiosity.
+
+"I can excuse a good deal in a man with an empty pocket," pursued
+the other. "I've been there myself; I know how it makes you feel--
+how much do you earn, by the bye?"
+
+"Mind you own business."
+
+"All right. I suppose it's about two pounds a week. Would you like
+to know what _my_ in come is? Well, something like two pounds an
+hour, reckoning eight hours as the working day. There's a
+difference, isn't there? It comes of minding my business, you see.
+You'll never make anything like it; you find it easier to abuse
+people who work than to work yourself. Now if you go down to
+Liverpool, and ask how I got to my present position, you'll find
+it's the result of hard and honest work. Understand that: honest
+work."
+
+"And forgetting to pay your debts," threw in the young man.
+
+"It's eight years since I owed any man a penny. The people I _did_
+owe money to were sensible men of business--all except your
+father, and he never could see things in the right light. I went
+through the bankruptcy court, and I made arrangements that satisfied
+my creditors. I should have satisfied your father too, only he
+died."
+
+"You paid tuppence ha'penny in the pound."
+
+"No, it was five shillings, and my creditors--sensible men of
+business--were satisfied. Now look here. I owed your father four
+hundred and thirty-six pounds, but he didn't rank as an ordinary
+creditor, and if I had paid him after my bankruptcy it would have
+been just because I felt a respect for him--not because he had any
+legal claim. I _meant_ to pay him--understand that."
+
+Hilliard smiled. Just then a block signal caused the train to
+slacken speed. Darkness had fallen, and lights glimmered from some
+cottages by the line.
+
+"You don't believe me," added Dengate.
+
+"I don't."
+
+The prosperous man bit his lower lip, and sat gazing at the lamp in
+the carriage. The train came to a standstill; there was no sound but
+the throbbing of the engine.
+
+"Well, listen to me," Dengate resumed. You're turning out badly, and
+any money you get you're pretty sure to make a bad use of. But"--
+he assumed an air of great solemnity--"all the same--now listen
+----"
+
+"I'm listening."
+
+"Just to show you the kind of a man I am, and to make you feel
+ashamed of yourself, I'm going to pay you the money."
+
+For a few seconds there was unbroken stillness. The men gazed at
+each other, Dengate superbly triumphant, Hilliard incredulous but
+betraying excitement.
+
+"I'm going to pay you four hundred and thirty-six pounds," Dengate
+repeated. "No less and no more. It isn't a legal debt, so I shall
+pay no interest. But go with me when we get to Birmingham, and you
+shall have my cheque for four hundred and thirty-six pounds."
+
+The train began to move on. Hilliard had uncrossed his legs, and sat
+bending forward, his eyes on vacancy.
+
+"Does that alter your opinion of me?" asked the other.
+
+"I sha'n't believe it till I have cashed the cheque."
+
+"You're one of those young fellows who think so much of themselves
+they've no good opinion to spare for anyone else. And what's more,
+I've still half a mind to give you a good thrashing before I give
+you the cheque. There's just about time, and I shouldn't wonder if
+it did you good. You want some of the conceit taken out of you, my
+lad."
+
+Hilliard seemed not to hear this. Again he fixed his eyes on the
+other's countenance.
+
+"Do you say you are going to pay me four hundred pounds?" he asked
+slowly.
+
+"Four hundred and thirty-six. You'll go to the devil with it, but
+that's no business of mine."
+
+"There's just one thing I must tell you. If this is a joke, keep out
+of my way after you've played it out, that's all."
+
+"It isn't a joke. And one thing I have to tell _you_. I reserve to
+myself the right of thrashing you, if I feel in the humour for it."
+
+Hilliard gave a laugh, then threw himself back into the corner, and
+did not speak again until the train pulled up at New Street station.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+An hour later he was at Old Square, waiting for the tram to Aston.
+Huge steam-driven vehicles came and went, whirling about the open
+space with monitory bell-clang. Amid a press of homeward-going
+workfolk, Hilliard clambered to a place on the top and lit his pipe.
+He did not look the same man who had waited gloomily at Dudley Port;
+his eyes gleamed with life; answering a remark addressed to him by a
+neighbour on the car, he spoke jovially.
+
+No rain was falling, but the streets shone wet and muddy under lurid
+lamp-lights. Just above the house-tops appeared the full moon, a
+reddish disk, blurred athwart floating vapour. The car drove
+northward, speedily passing from the region of main streets and
+great edifices into a squalid district of factories and workshops
+and crowded by-ways. At Aston Church the young man alighted, and
+walked rapidly for five minutes, till he reached a row of small
+modern houses. Socially they represented a step or two upwards in
+the gradation which, at Birmingham, begins with the numbered court
+and culminates in the mansions of Edgbaston.
+
+He knocked at a door, and was answered by a girl, who nodded
+recognition.
+
+"Mrs. Hilliard in? Just tell her I'm here."
+
+There was a natural abruptness in his voice, but it had a kindly
+note, and a pleasant smile accompanied it. After a brief delay he
+received permission to go upstairs, where the door of a sitting-room
+stood open. Within was a young woman, slight, pale, and pretty, who
+showed something of embarrassment, though her face made him welcome.
+
+"I expected you sooner."
+
+"Business kept me back. Well, little girl?"
+
+The table was spread for tea, and at one end of it, on a high chair,
+sat a child of four years old. Hilliard kissed her, and stroked her
+curly hair, and talked with playful affection. This little girl was
+his niece, the child of his elder brother, who had died three years
+ago. The poorly furnished room and her own attire proved that Mrs.
+Hilliard had but narrow resources in her widowhood. Nor did she
+appear a woman of much courage; tears had thinned her cheeks, and
+her delicate hands had suffered noticeably from unwonted household
+work.
+
+Hilliard remarked something unusual in her behaviour this evening.
+She was restless, and kept regarding him askance, as if in
+apprehension. A letter from her, in which she merely said she wished
+to speak to him, had summoned him hither from Dudley. As a rule,
+they saw each other but once a month.
+
+"No bad news, I hope!" he remarked aside to her, as he took his
+place at the table.
+
+"Oh, no. I'll tell you afterwards."
+
+Very soon after the meal Mrs. Hilliard took the child away and put
+her to bed. During her absence the visitor sat brooding, a peculiar
+half-smile on his face. She came back, drew a chair up to the fire,
+but did not sit down.
+
+"Well, what is it?" asked her brother-in-law, much as he might have
+spoken to the little girl.
+
+"I have something very serious to talk about, Maurice."
+
+"Have you? All right; go ahead."
+
+"I--I am so very much afraid I shall offend you."
+
+The young man laughed.
+
+"Not very likely. I can take a good deal from you."
+
+She stood with her hands on the back of the chair, and as he looked
+at her, Hilliard saw her pale cheeks grow warm.
+
+"It'll seem very strange to you, Maurice."
+
+"Nothing will seem strange after an adventure I've had this
+afternoon. You shall hear about it presently."
+
+"Tell me your story first."
+
+"That's like a woman. All right, I'll tell you. I met that scoundrel
+Dengate, and--he's paid me the money he owed my father."
+
+"He has _paid_ it? Oh! really?"
+
+"See, here's a cheque, and I think it likely I can turn it into
+cash. The blackguard has been doing well at Liverpool. I'm not quite
+sure that I understand the reptile, but he seems to have given me
+this because I abused him. I hurt his vanity, and he couldn't resist
+the temptation to astonish me. He thinks I shall go about
+proclaiming him a noble fellow. Four hundred and thirty-six pounds;
+there it is."
+
+He tossed the piece of paper into the air with boyish glee, and only
+just caught it as it was fluttering into the fire.
+
+"Oh, be careful!" cried Mrs. Hilliard.
+
+"I told him he was a scoundrel, and he began by threatening to
+thrash me. I'm very glad he didn't try. It was in the train, and I
+know very well I should have strangled him. It would have been
+awkward, you know."
+
+"Oh, Maurice, how _can_ you----?"
+
+"Well, here's the money; and half of it is yours."
+
+"Mine? Oh, no! After all you have given me. Besides, I sha'n't want
+it."
+
+"How's that?"
+
+Their eyes mete Hilliard again saw the flush in her cheeks, and
+began to guess its explanation. He looked puzzled, interested.
+
+"Do I know him?" was his next inquiry.
+
+"Should you think it very wrong of me?" She moved aside from the
+line of his gaze. "I couldn't imagine how you would take it."
+
+"It all depends. Who is the man?"
+
+Still shrinking towards a position where Hilliard could not easily
+observe her, the young widow told her story. She had consented to
+marry a man of whom her brother-in-law knew little but the name, one
+Ezra Marr; he was turned forty, a widower without children, and
+belonged to a class of small employers of labour known in Birmingham
+as "little masters." The contrast between such a man and Maurice
+Hilliard's brother was sufficiently pronounced; but the widow
+nervously did her best to show Ezra Marr in a favourable light.
+
+"And then," she added after a pause, while Hilliard was reflecting,
+"I couldn't go on being a burden on you. How very few men would have
+done what you have----"
+
+"Stop a minute. Is _that_ the real reason? If so----"
+
+Hurriedly she interposed.
+
+"That was only one of the reasons--only one."
+
+Hilliard knew very well that her marriage had not been entirely
+successful; it seemed to him very probable that with a husband of
+the artisan class, a vigorous and go-ahead fellow, she would be
+better mated than in the former instance. He felt sorry for his
+little niece, but there again sentiment doubtless conflicted with
+common-sense. A few more questions, and it became clear to him that
+he had no ground of resistance.
+
+"Very well. Most likely you are doing a wise thing. And half this
+money is yours; you'll find it useful."
+
+The discussion of this point was interrupted by a tap at the door.
+Mrs. Hilliard, after leaving the room for a moment, returned with
+rosy countenance.
+
+"He is here," she murmured. "I thought I should like you to meet him
+this evening. Do you mind?"
+
+Mr. Marr entered; a favourable specimen of his kind; strong, comely,
+frank of look and speech. Hilliard marvelled somewhat at his choice
+of the frail and timid little widow, and hoped upon marriage would
+follow no repentance. A friendly conversation between the two men
+confirmed them in mutual good opinion. At length Mrs. Hilliard spoke
+of the offer of money made by her brother-in-law.
+
+"I don't feel I've any right to it," she said, after explaining the
+circumstances. "You know what Maurice has done for me. I've always
+felt I was robbing him----"
+
+"I wanted to say something about that," put in the bass-voiced Ezra.
+"I want to tell you, Mr. Hilliard, that you're a man I'm proud to
+know, and proud to shake hands with. And if my view goes for
+anything, Emily won't take a penny of what you're offering her. I
+should think it wrong and mean. It is about time--that's my way of
+thinking--that you looked after your own interests. Emily has no
+claim to a share in this money, and what's more, I don't wish her to
+take it."
+
+"Very well," said Hilliard. "I tell you what we'll do. A couple of
+hundred pounds shall be put aside for the little girl. You can't
+make any objection to that."
+
+The mother glanced doubtfully at her future husband, but Marr again
+spoke with emphasis.
+
+"Yes, I do object. If you don't mind me saying it, I'm quite able to
+look after the little girl; and the fact is, I want her to grow up
+looking to me as her father, and getting all she has from me only.
+Of course, I mean nothing but what's friendly: but there it is; I'd
+rather Winnie didn't have the money."
+
+This man was in the habit of speaking his mind; Hilliard understood
+that any insistence would only disturb the harmony of the occasion.
+He waved a hand, smiled good-naturedly, and said no more.
+
+About nine o'clock he left the house and walked to Aston Church.
+While he stood there, waiting for the tram, a voice fell upon his
+ear that caused him to look round. Crouched by the entrance to the
+churchyard was a beggar in filthy rags, his face hideously bandaged,
+before him on the pavement a little heap of matchboxes; this
+creature kept uttering a meaningless sing-song, either idiot jabber,
+or calculated to excite attention and pity; it sounded something
+like "A-pah-pahky; pah-pahky; pah"; repeated a score of times, and
+resumed after a pause. Hilliard gazed and listened, then placed a
+copper in the wretch's extended palm, and turned away muttering,
+"What a cursed world!"
+
+He was again on the tram-car before he observed that the full moon,
+risen into a sky now clear of grosser vapours, gleamed brilliant
+silver above the mean lights of earth. And round about it, in so
+vast a circumference that it was only detected by the wandering eye,
+spread a softly radiant halo. This vision did not long occupy his
+thoughts, but at intervals he again looked upward, to dream for a
+moment on the silvery splendour and on that wide halo dim-glimmering
+athwart the track of stars.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+Instead of making for the railway station, to take a train back to
+Dudley, he crossed from the northern to the southern extremity of
+the town, and by ten o'clock was in one of the streets which lead
+out of Moseley Road. Here, at a house such as lodges young men in
+business, he made inquiry for "Mr. Narramore," and was forthwith
+admitted.
+
+Robert Narramore, a long-stemmed pipe at his lips, sat by the
+fireside; on the table lay the materials of a satisfactory supper--
+a cold fowl, a ham, a Stilton cheese, and a bottle of wine.
+
+"Hollo! You?" he exclaimed, without rising. "I was going to write to
+you; thanks for saving me the trouble. Have something to eat?"
+
+"Yes, and to drink likewise."
+
+"Do you mind ringing the bell? I believe there's a bottle of
+Burgundy left. If not, plenty of Bass."
+
+He stretched forth a languid hand, smiling amiably. Narramore was
+the image of luxurious indolence; he had pleasant features, dark
+hair inclined to curliness, a well-built frame set off by good
+tailoring. His income from the commercial house in which he held a
+post of responsibility would have permitted him to occupy better
+quarters than these; but here he had lived for ten years, and he
+preferred a few inconveniences to the trouble of moving. Trouble of
+any kind was Robert's bugbear. His progress up the commercial ladder
+seemed due rather to the luck which favours amiable and good-looking
+young fellows than to any special ability or effort of his own. The
+very sound of his voice had a drowsiness which soothed--if it did
+not irritate--the listener.
+
+"Tell them to lay out the truckle-bed," said Hilliard, when he had
+pulled the bell. "I shall stay here to-night."
+
+"Good!"
+
+Their talk was merely interjectional, until the visitor had begun to
+appease his hunger and had drawn the cork of a second bottle of
+bitter ale.
+
+"This is a great day," Hilliard then exclaimed. "I left Dudley this
+afternoon feeling ready to cut my throat. Now I'm a free man, with
+the world before me."
+
+"How's that?"
+
+"Emily's going to take a second husband--that's one thing."
+
+"Heaven be praised! Better than one could have looked for."
+
+Hilliard related the circumstances. Then he drew from his pocket an
+oblong slip of paper, and held it out.
+
+"Dengate?" cried his friend. "How the deuce did you get hold of
+this?"
+
+Explanation followed. They debated Dengate's character and motives.
+
+"I can understand it," said Narramore. "When I was a boy of twelve I
+once cheated an apple-woman out of three-halfpence. At the age of
+sixteen I encountered the old woman again, and felt immense
+satisfaction in giving her a shilling. But then, you see, I had done
+with petty cheating; I wished to clear my conscience, and look my
+fellow-woman in the face."
+
+"That's it, no doubt. He seems to have got some sort of position in
+Liverpool society, and he didn't like the thought that there was a
+poor devil at Dudley who went about calling him a scoundrel.
+By-the-bye, someone told him that I had taken to liquor, and was on
+my way to destruction generally. I don't know who it could be."
+
+"Oh, we all have candid friends that talk about us.
+
+"It's true I have been drunk now and then of late. There's much to
+be said for getting drunk."
+
+"Much," assented Narramore, philosophically.
+
+Hilliard went on with his supper; his friend puffed tobacco, and
+idly regarded the cheque he was still holding.
+
+"And what are you going to do?" he asked at length.
+
+There came no reply, and several minutes passed in silence. Then
+Hilliard rose from the table, paced the floor once or twice,
+selected a cigar from a box that caught his eye, and, in cutting off
+the end, observed quietly--
+
+"I'm going to live."
+
+"Wait a minute. We'll have the table cleared, and a kettle on the
+fire."
+
+While the servant was busy, Hilliard stood with an elbow on the
+mantelpiece, thoughtfully smoking his cigar. At Narramore's request,
+he mixed two tumblers of whisky toddy, then took a draught from his
+own, and returned to his former position.
+
+"Can't you sit down?" said Narramore.
+
+"No, I can't."
+
+"What a fellow you are! With nerves like yours, I should have been
+in my grave years ago. You're going to live, eh?"
+
+"Going to be a machine no longer. Can I call myself a man? There's
+precious little difference between a fellow like me and the damned
+grinding mechanism that I spend my days in drawing--that roars all
+day in my ears and deafens me. I'll put an end to that. Here's four
+hundred pounds. It shall mean four hundred pounds'-worth of life.
+While this money lasts, I'll feel that I'm a human being."
+
+"Something to be said for that," commented the listener, in his tone
+of drowsy impartiality.
+
+"I offered Emily half of it. She didn't want to take it, and the man
+Marr wouldn't let her. I offered to lay it aside for the child, but
+Marr wouldn't have that either, It's fairly mine."
+
+"Undoubtedly."
+
+"Think! The first time in my life that I've had money on which no
+one else had a claim. When the poor old father died, Will and I had
+to go shares in keeping up the home. Our sister couldn't earn
+anything; she had her work set in attending to her mother. When
+mother died, and Marian married, it looked as if I had only myself
+to look after: then came Will's death, and half my income went to
+keep his wife and child from the workhouse. You know very well I've
+never grudged it. It's my faith that we do what we do because
+anything else would be less agreeable. It was more to my liking to
+live on a pound a week than to see Emily and the little lass suffer
+want. I've no right to any thanks or praise for it. But the change
+has come none too soon. There'd have been a paragraph in the Dudley
+paper some rainy morning."
+
+"Yes, I was rather afraid of that," said Narramore musingly.
+
+He let a minute elapse, whilst his friend paced the room; then added
+in the same voice:
+
+"We're in luck at the same tune. My uncle Sol was found dead this
+morning."
+
+"Do you come in for much?"
+
+"We don't know what he's left, but I'm down for a substantial
+fraction in a will he made three years ago. Nobody knew it, but he's
+been stark mad for the last six months. He took a bed-room out
+Bordesley way, in a false name, and stored it with a ton or two of
+tinned meats and vegetables. There the landlady found him lying dead
+this morning; she learnt who he was from the papers in his pocket.
+It's come out that he had made friends with some old boozer of that
+neighbourhood; he told him that England was on the point of a grand
+financial smash, and that half the population would die of hunger.
+To secure himself, he began to lay in the stock of tinned
+provisions. One can't help laughing, poor old chap! That's the
+result, you see, of a life spent in sweating for money. As a young
+man he had hard times, and when his invention succeeded, it put him
+off balance a bit. I've often thought he had a crazy look in his
+eye. He may have thrown away a lot of his money in mad tricks: who
+knows?"
+
+"That's the end the human race will come to," said Hilliard. "It'll
+be driven mad and killed off by machinery. Before long there'll be
+machines for washing and dressing people--machines for feeding
+them--machines for----"
+
+His wrathful imagination led him to grotesque ideas which ended in
+laughter.
+
+"Well, I have a year or two before me. I'll know what enjoyment
+means. And afterwards----"
+
+"Yes; what afterwards?"
+
+"I don't know. I may choose to come back; I may prefer to make an
+end. Impossible to foresee my state of mind after living humanly for
+a year or two. And what shall _you_ do if you come in for a lot of
+money?"
+
+"It's not likely to be more than a few thousands," replied
+Narramore. "And the chances are I shall go on in the old way. What's
+the good of a few thousands? I haven't the energy to go off and
+enjoy myself in your fashion. One of these days I may think of
+getting married, and marriage, you know, is devilish expensive. I
+should like to have three or four thousand a year; you can't start
+housekeeping on less, if you're not to be bored to death with
+worries. Perhaps I may get a partnership in our house. I began life
+in the brass bedstead line, and I may as well stick to brass
+bedsteads to the end the demand isn't likely to fall off. Please
+fill my glass again."
+
+Hilliard, the while, had tossed off his second tumbler. He began to
+talk at random.
+
+"I shall go to London first of all. I may go abroad. Reckon a pound
+a day. Three hundred and--how many days are there in a year? Three
+hundred and sixty-five. That doesn't allow me two years. I want two
+years of life. Half a sovereign a day, then. One can do a good deal
+with half a sovereign a day--don't you think?"
+
+"Not very much, if you're particular about your wine."
+
+"Wine doesn't matter. Honest ale and Scotch whisky will serve well
+enough. Understand me; I'm not going in for debauchery, and I'm not
+going to play the third-rate swell. There's no enjoyment in making a
+beast of oneself, and none for me in strutting about the streets
+like an animated figure out of a tailor's window. I want to know the
+taste of free life, human life. I want to forget that I ever sat at
+a desk, drawing to scale--drawing damned machines. I want to----"
+
+He checked himself. Narramore looked at him with curiosity.
+
+"It's a queer thing to me, Hilliard," he remarked, when his friend
+turned away, "that you've kept so clear of women. Now, anyone would
+think you were just the fellow to get hobbled in that way."
+
+"I daresay," muttered the other. "Yes, it _is_ a queer thing. I have
+been saved, I suppose, by the necessity of supporting my relatives.
+I've seen so much of women suffering from poverty that it has got me
+into the habit of thinking of them as nothing but burdens to a man."
+
+"As they nearly always are."
+
+"Yes, nearly always."
+
+Narramore pondered with his amiable smile; the other, after a
+moment's gloom, shook himself free again, and talked with growing
+exhilaration of the new life that had dawned before him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+Hilliard's lodgings--they were represented by a single room--
+commanded a prospect which, to him a weariness and a disgust, would
+have seemed impressive enough to eyes beholding it for the first
+time. On the afternoon of his last day at Dudley he stood by the
+window and looked forth, congratulating himself, with a fierceness
+of emotion which defied misgiving, that he would gaze no more on
+this scene of his servitude.
+
+The house was one of a row situated on a terrace, above a muddy
+declivity marked with footpaths. It looked over a wide expanse of
+waste ground, covered in places with coarse herbage, but for the
+most part undulating in bare tracts of slag and cinder. Opposite,
+some quarter of a mile away, rose a lofty dome-shaped hill,
+tree-clad from base to summit, and rearing above the bare branches
+of its topmost trees the ruined keep of Dudley Castle. Along the
+foot of this hill ran the highway which descends from Dudley town--
+hidden by rising ground on the left--to the low-lying
+railway-station; there, beyond, the eye traversed a great plain, its
+limit the blending of earth and sky in lurid cloud. A ray of yellow
+sunset touched the height and its crowning ruin; at the zenith shone
+a space of pure pale blue save for these points of relief the
+picture was colourless and uniformly sombre. Far and near,
+innumerable chimneys sent forth fumes of various density broad-flung
+jets of steam, coldly white against the murky distance; wan smoke
+from lime-kilns, wafted in long trails; reek of solid blackness from
+pits and forges, voluming aloft and far-floated by the sluggish
+wind.
+
+Born at Birmingham, the son of a teacher of drawing, Maurice
+Hilliard had spent most of his life in the Midland capital; to its
+grammar school he owed an education just sufficiently prolonged to
+unfit him for the tasks of an underling, yet not thorough enough to
+qualify him for professional life. In boyhood he aspired to the
+career of an artist, but his father, himself the wreck of a would-be
+painter, rudely discouraged this ambition; by way of compromise
+between the money-earning craft and the beggarly art, he became a
+mechanical-draughtsman. Of late years he had developed a strong
+taste for the study of architecture; much of his leisure was given
+to this subject, and what money he could spare went in the purchase
+of books and prints which helped him to extend his architectural
+knowledge. In moods of hope, he had asked himself whether it might
+not be possible to escape from bondage to the gods of iron, and earn
+a living in an architect's office. That desire was now forgotten in
+his passionate resolve to enjoy liberty without regard for the
+future.
+
+All his possessions, save the articles of clothing which he would
+carry with him, were packed in a couple of trunks, to be sent on the
+morrow to Birmingham, where they would lie in the care of his friend
+Narramore. Kinsfolk he had none whom he cared to remember, except
+his sister; she lived at Wolverhampton, a wife and mother, in narrow
+but not oppressive circumstances, and Hilliard had taken leave of
+her in a short visit some days ago. He would not wait for the
+wedding of his sister-in-law enough that she was provided for, and
+that his conscience would always be at ease on her account.
+
+For he was troubled with a conscience--even with one unusually
+poignant. An anecdote from his twentieth year depicts this feature
+of the man. He and Narramore were walking one night in a very poor
+part of Birmingham, and for some reason they chanced to pause by a
+shop-window--a small window, lighted with one gas-jet, and laid
+out with a miserable handful of paltry wares; the shop, however, was
+newly opened, and showed a pathetic attempt at cleanliness and
+neatness. The friends asked each other how it could possibly benefit
+anyone to embark in such a business as that, and laughed over the
+display. While he was laughing, Hilliard became aware of a woman in
+the doorway, evidently the shopkeeper; she had heard their remarks
+and looked distressed. Infinitely keener was the pang which Maurice
+experienced; he could not forgive himself, kept exclaiming how
+brutally he had behaved, and sank into gloominess. Not very long
+after, he took Narramore to walk in the same direction; they came
+again to the little shop, and Hilliard surprised his companion with
+a triumphant shout. The window was now laid out in a much more
+promising way, with goods of modest value. "You remember?" said the
+young man. "I couldn't rest till I had sent her something. She'll
+wonder to the end of her life who the money came from. But she's
+made use of it, poor creature, and it'll bring her luck."
+
+Only the hopeless suppression of natural desires, the conflict
+through years of ardent youth with sordid circumstances, could have
+brought him to the pass he had now reached--one of desperation
+centred in self. Every suggestion of native suavity and prudence was
+swept away in tumultuous revolt. Another twelvemonth of his slavery
+and he would have yielded to brutalising influences which rarely
+relax their hold upon a man. To-day he was prompted by the instinct
+of flight from peril threatening all that was worthy in him.
+
+Just as the last glimmer of daylight vanished from his room there
+sounded a knock at the door.
+
+"Your tea's ready, Mr. Hilliard," called a woman's voice.
+
+He took his meals downstairs in the landlady's parlour. Appetite at
+present lie had none, but the pretence of eating was a way of
+passing the time; so he descended and sat down at the prepared
+table.
+
+His wandering eyes fell on one of the ornaments of the room--Mrs.
+Brewer's album. On first coming to live in the house, two years ago,
+he had examined this collection of domestic portraits, and
+subsequently, from time to time, had taken up the album to look at
+one photograph which interested him. Among an assemblage of types
+excelling in ugliness of feature and hideousness of costume--types
+of toil-worn age, of ungainly middle life, and of youth lacking
+every grace, such as are exhibited in the albums of the poor--
+there was discoverable one female portrait in which, the longer he
+gazed at it, Hilliard found an ever-increasing suggestiveness of
+those qualities he desired in woman. Unclasping the volume, he
+opened immediately at this familiar face. A month or two had elapsed
+since he last regarded it, and the countenance took possession of
+him with the same force as ever.
+
+It was that of a young woman probably past her twentieth year.
+Unlike her neighbours in the album, she had not bedizened herself
+before sitting to be portrayed. The abundant hair was parted simply
+and smoothly from her forehead and tightly plaited behind; she wore
+a linen collar, and, so far as could be judged from the portion
+included in the picture, a homely cloth gown. Her features were
+comely and intelligent, and exhibited a gentleness, almost a
+meekness of expression which was as far as possible from seeming
+affected. Whether she smiled or looked sad Hilliard had striven
+vainly to determine. Her lips appeared to smile, but in so slight a
+degree that perchance it was merely an effect of natural line;
+whereas, if the mouth were concealed, a profound melancholy at once
+ruled the visage.
+
+Who she was Hilliard had no idea. More than once he had been on the
+point of asking his landlady, but characteristic delicacies
+restrained him: he feared Mrs. Brewer's mental comment, and dreaded
+the possible disclosure that he had admired a housemaid or someone
+of yet lower condition. Nor could he trust his judgment of the face:
+perhaps it shone only by contrast with so much ugliness on either
+side of it; perhaps, in the starved condition of his senses, he was
+ready to find perfection in any female countenance not frankly
+repulsive.
+
+Yet, no; it was a beautiful face. Beautiful, at all events, in the
+sense of being deeply interesting, in the strength of its appeal to
+his emotions. Another man might pass it slightingly; to him it spoke
+as no other face had ever spoken. It awakened in him a consciousness
+of profound sympathy.
+
+While he still sat at table his landlady came in. She was a worthy
+woman of her class, not given to vulgar gossip. Her purpose in
+entering the room at this moment was to ask Hilliard whether he had
+a likeness of himself which he could spare her, as a memento.
+
+"I'm sorry I don't possess such a thing," he answered, laughing,
+surprised that the woman should care enough about him to make the
+request. "But, talking of photographs, would you tell me who this
+is?"
+
+The album lay beside him, and a feeling of embarrassment, as he saw
+Mrs. Brewer's look rest upon it, impelled him to the decisive
+question.
+
+"That? Oh! that's a friend of my daughter Martha's--Eve Madeley. I
+m sure I don't wonder at you noticing her. But it doesn't do her
+justice; she's better looking than that. It was took better than two
+years ago--why, just before you came to me, Mr. Hilliard. She was
+going away--to London."
+
+"Eve Madeley." He repeated the name to himself, and liked it.
+
+"She's had a deal of trouble, poor thing," pursued the landlady. "We
+was sorry to lose sight of her, but glad, I'm sure, that she went
+away to do better for herself. She hasn't been home since then, and
+we don't hear of her coming, and I'm sure nobody can be surprised.
+But our Martha heard from her not so long ago--why, it was about
+Christmas-time."
+
+"Is she"--he was about to add, "in service?" but could not voice
+the words. "She has an engagement in London?"
+
+"Yes; she's a bookkeeper, and earns her pound a week. She was always
+clever at figures. She got on so well at the school that they wanted
+her to be a teacher, but she didn't like it. Then Mr. Reckitt, the
+ironmonger, a friend of her father's, got her to help him with his
+books and bills of an evening, and when she was seventeen, because
+his business was growing and he hadn't much of a head for figures
+himself, he took her regular into the shop. And glad she was to give
+up the school-teaching, for she could never abear it."
+
+"You say she had a lot of trouble?"
+
+"Ah, that indeed she had! And all her father's fault. But for him,
+foolish man, they might have been a well-to-do family. But he's had
+to suffer for it himself, too. He lives up here on the hill, in a
+poor cottage, and takes wages as a timekeeper at Robinson's when he
+ought to have been paying men of his own. The drink--that's what
+it was. When our Martha first knew them they were living at Walsall,
+and if it hadn't a' been for Eve they'd have had no home at all.
+Martha got to know her at the Sunday-school; Eve used to teach a
+class. That's seven or eight years ago; she was only a girl of
+sixteen, but she had the ways of a grown-up woman, and very lucky it
+was for them belonging to her. Often and often they've gone for days
+with nothing but a dry loaf, and the father spending all he got at
+the public."
+
+"Was it a large family?" Hilliard inquired.
+
+"Well, let me see; at that time there was Eve's two sisters and her
+brother. Two other children had died, and the mother was dead, too.
+I don't know much about _her_, but they say she was a very good sort
+of woman, and it's likely the eldest girl took after her. A quieter
+and modester girl than Eve there never was. Our Martha lived with
+her aunt at Walsall--that's my only sister, and she was bed-rid,
+poor thing, and had Martha to look after her. And when she died, and
+Martha came back here to us, the Madeley family came here as well,
+'cause the father got some kind of work. But he couldn't keep it,
+and he went off I don't know where, and Eve had the children to keep
+and look after. We used to do what we could to help her, but it was
+a cruel life for a poor thing of her age--just when she ought to
+have been enjoying her life, as you may say."
+
+Hilliard's interest waxed.
+
+"Then," pursued Mrs. Brewer, "the next sister to Eve, Laura her name
+was, went to Birmingham, into a sweetstuff shop, and that was the
+last ever seen or heard of her. She wasn't a girl to be depended
+upon, and I never thought she'd come to good, and whether she's
+alive or dead there's no knowing. Eve took it to heart, that she
+did. And not six months after, the other girl had the 'sipelas, and
+she died, and just as they was carrying her coffin out of the house,
+who should come up but her father! He'd been away for nearly two
+years, just sending a little money now and then, and he didn't even
+know the girl had been ailing. And when he saw the coffin, it took
+him so that he fell down just like a dead man. You wouldn't have
+thought it, but there's no knowing what goes on in people's minds.
+Well, if you'll believe it, from that day he was so changed we
+didn't seem to know him. He turned quite religious, and went regular
+to chapel, and has done ever since; and he wouldn't touch a drop of
+anything, tempt him who might. It was a case of conversion, if ever
+there was one.
+
+"So there remained only Eve and her brother?"
+
+"Yes. He was a steady lad, Tom Madeley, and never gave his sister
+much trouble. He earns his thirty shillings a week now. Well, and
+soon after she saw her father going on all right, Eve left home. I
+don't wonder at it; it wasn't to be expected she could forgive him
+for all the harm and sorrows he'd caused. She went to Birmingham for
+a few months, and then she came back one day to tell us she'd got a
+place in London. And she brought that photo to give us to remember
+her by. But, as I said, it isn't good enough."
+
+"Does she seem to be happier now?"
+
+"She hasn't wrote more than once or twice, but she's doing well, and
+whatever happens she's not the one to complain. It's a blessing
+she's always had her health. No doubt she's made friends in London,
+but we haven't heard about them. Martha was hoping she'd have come
+for Christmas, but it seems she couldn't get away for long enough
+from business. I'd tell you her address, but I don't remember it.
+I've never been in London myself. Martha knows it, of course. She
+might look in to-night, and if she does I'll ask her."
+
+Hilliard allowed this suggestion to pass without remark. He was not
+quite sure that he desired to know Miss Madeley's address.
+
+But later in the evening, when, after walking for two or three hours
+about the cold, dark roads, he came in to have his supper and go to
+bed, Mrs. Brewer smilingly offered him a scrap of paper.
+
+"There," she said, "that's where she's living. London's a big place,
+and you mayn't be anywhere near, but if you happened to walk that
+way, we should take it kindly if you'd just leave word that we're
+always glad to hear from her, and hope she's well."
+
+With a mixture of reluctance and satisfaction the young man took the
+paper, glanced at it, and folded it to put in his pocket. Mrs.
+Brewer was regarding him, and he felt that his silence must seem
+ungracious.
+
+"I will certainly call and leave your message," he said.
+
+Up in his bed-room lie sat for a long time with the paper lying open
+before him. And when he slept his rest was troubled with dreams of
+an anxious search about the highways and byways of London for that
+half-sad, half-smiling face which had so wrought upon his
+imagination.
+
+Long before daylight he awoke at the sound of bells, and hootings,
+and whistlings, which summoned the Dudley workfolk to their labour.
+For the first time in his life he heard these hideous noises with
+pleasure: they told him that the day of his escape had come. Unable
+to lie still, he rose at once, and went out into the chill dawn.
+Thoughts of Eve Madeley no longer possessed him; a glorious sense of
+freedom excluded every recollection of his past life, and he
+wandered aimlessly with a song in his heart.
+
+At breakfast, the sight of Mrs. Brewer's album tempted him to look
+once more at the portrait, but he did not yield.
+
+"Shall we ever see you again, I wonder?" asked his landlady, when
+the moment arrived for leave-taking.
+
+"If I am ever again in Dudley, I shall come here," he answered
+kindly.
+
+But on his way to the station he felt a joyful assurance that fate
+would have no power to draw him back again into this circle of fiery
+torments.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+Two months later, on a brilliant morning of May, Hilliard again
+awoke from troubled dreams, but the sounds about him had no
+association with bygone miseries. From the courtyard upon which his
+window looked there came a ringing of gay laughter followed by
+shrill, merry gossip in a foreign tongue. Somewhere in the
+neighbourhood a church bell was pealing. Presently footsteps hurried
+along the corridor, and an impatient voice shouted repeatedly,
+"Alphonse! Alphonse!"
+
+He was in Paris; had been there for six weeks, and now awoke with a
+sense of loneliness, a desire to be back among his own people.
+
+In London he had spent only a fortnight. It was not a time that he
+cared to reflect upon. No sooner had he found himself in the
+metropolis, alone and free, with a pocketful of money, than a
+delirium possessed him. Every resolution notwithstanding, he yielded
+to London's grossest lures. All he could remember, was a succession
+of extravagances, beneath a sunless sky, with chance companions
+whose faces he had forgotten five minutes after parting with them.
+Sovereign after sovereign melted out of his hand; the end of the
+second week found his capital diminished by some five-and-twenty
+pounds. In an hour of physical and moral nausea, he packed his
+travelling-bag. journeyed to Newhaven, and as a sort of penance,
+crossed the Channel by third-class passage. Arrived in Paris, he
+felt himself secure, and soon recovered sanity.
+
+Thanks to his studious habits, he was equipped with book-French;
+now, both for economy's sake and for his mental advantage, he
+struggled with the spoken language, and so far succeeded as to lodge
+very cheaply in a rather disreputable hotel, and to eat at
+restaurants where dinner of several courses cost two francs and a
+half. His life was irreproachable; he studied the Paris of art and
+history. But perforce he remained companionless, and solitude had
+begun to weigh upon him.
+
+This morning, whilst he sat over his bowl of coffee and _petit
+pain_, a certain recollection haunted him persistently. Yesterday,
+in turning out his pockets, he had come upon a scrap of paper,
+whereon was written:
+
+"93, Belmont Street, Chalk Farm Road, London, N.W."
+
+This formula it was which now kept running through his mind, like a
+refrain which will not be dismissed.
+
+He reproached himself for neglect of his promise to Mrs. Brewer.
+More than that, he charged himself with foolish disregard of a
+possibility which might have boundless significance for him. Here,
+it seemed, was sufficient motive for a return to London. The
+alternative was to wander on, and see more of foreign countries; a
+tempting suggestion, but marred by the prospect of loneliness. He
+would go back among his own people and make friends. Without
+comradeship, liberty had little savour.
+
+Still travelling with as small expense as might be, he reached
+London in the forenoon, left his luggage at Victoria Station, and,
+after a meal, betook himself in the northerly direction. It was a
+rainy and uncomfortable day, but this did not much affect his
+spirits; he felt like a man new risen from illness, seemed to have
+cast off something that had threatened his very existence, and
+marvelled at the state of mind in which it had been possible for him
+to inhabit London without turning his steps towards the address of
+Eve Madeley.
+
+He discovered Belmont Street. It consisted of humble houses, and was
+dreary enough to look upon. As he sought for No. 93, a sudden
+nervousness attacked him; he became conscious all at once of the
+strangeness of his position. At his hour it. was unlikely that Eve
+would be at home an inquiry at the house and the leaving of a verbal
+message would discharge his obligation; but he proposed more than
+that. It was his resolve to see Eve herself, to behold the face
+which, in a picture, had grown so familiar to him. Yet till this
+moment he had overlooked the difficulties of the enterprise. Could
+he, on the strength of an acquaintance with Mrs. Brewer, claim the
+friendly regards of this girl who had never heard his name? If he
+saw her once, on what pretext could he seek for a second meeting?
+
+Possibly he would not desire it. Eve in her own person might
+disenchant him.
+
+Meanwhile he had discovered the house, and without further debate he
+knocked. The door was opened by a woman of ordinary type,
+slatternly, and with suspicious eye.
+
+"Miss Madeley _did_ live here," she said, "but she's been gone a
+month or more."
+
+"Can you tell me where she is living now?"
+
+After a searching look the woman replied that she could not. In the
+manner of her kind, she was anxious to dismiss the inquirer and get
+the door shut. Gravely disappointed, Hilliard felt unable to turn
+away without a further question.
+
+"Perhaps you know where she is, or was, employed?"
+
+But no information whatever was forthcoming. It very rarely is under
+such circumstances, for a London landlady, compounded in general of
+craft and caution, tends naturally to reticence on the score of her
+former lodgers. If she has parted with them on amicable terms, her
+instinct is to shield them against the menace presumed in every
+inquiry; if her mood is one of ill-will, she refuses information
+lest the departed should reap advantage. And then, in the great
+majority of cases she has really no information to give.
+
+The door closed with that severity of exclusion in which London
+doors excel, and Hilliard turned despondently away. He was just
+consoling himself with the thought that Eve would probably, before
+long, communicate her new address to the friends at Dudley, and by
+that means he might hear of it, when a dirty-faced little girl, who
+had stood within earshot while he was talking, and who had followed
+him to the end of the street, approached him with an abrupt inquiry.
+
+"Was you asking for Miss Madeley, Sir?"
+
+"Yes, I was; do you know anything of her?"
+
+"My mother did washing for her, and when she moved I had to take
+some things of hers to the new address."
+
+"Then you remember it?"
+
+"It's a goodish way from 'ere, Sir. Shall I go with you?"
+
+Hilliard understood. Like the good Samaritan of old, he took out
+twopence. The face of the dirty little girl brightened wonderfully.
+
+"Tell me the address; that will be enough."
+
+"Do you know Gower Place, Sir?"
+
+"Somewhere near Gower Street, I suppose?"
+
+His supposition was confirmed, and he learnt the number of the house
+to which Miss Madeley had transferred herself. In that direction he
+at once bent his steps.
+
+Gower Place is in the close neighbourhood of Euston Road; Hilliard
+remembered that he had passed the end of it on his first arrival in
+London, when he set forth from Euston Station to look for a lodging.
+It was a mere chance that he had not turned into this very street,
+instead of going further. Several windows displayed lodging-cards.
+On the whole, it looked a better locality than Belmont Street. Eve's
+removal hither might signify an improvement of circumstances.
+
+The house which he sought had a clean doorstep and unusually bright
+windows. His knock was answered quickly, and by a young, sprightly
+woman, who smiled upon him.
+
+"I believe Miss Madeley lives here?"
+
+"Yes, she does."
+
+"She is not at home just now?"
+
+"No. She went out after breakfast, and I'm sure I can't say when
+she'll be back."
+
+Hilliard felt a slight wonder at this uncertainty. The young woman,
+observing his expression, added with vivacious friendliness:
+
+"Do you want to see her on business?"
+
+"No; a private matter."
+
+This occasioned a smirk.
+
+"Well, she hasn't any regular hours at present. Sometimes she comes
+to dinner, sometimes she doesn't. Sometimes she comes to tea, but
+just as often she isn't 'ome till late. P'r'aps you'd like to leave
+your name?"
+
+"I think I'll call again."
+
+"Did you expect to find her at 'ome now?" asked the young woman,
+whose curiosity grew more eager as she watched Hilliard's
+countenance.
+
+"Perhaps," he replied, neglecting the question, "I should find her
+here to-morrow morning?"
+
+"Well, I can say as someone's going to call, you know."
+
+"Please do so."
+
+Therewith he turned away, anxious to escape a volley of
+interrogation for which the landlady's tongue was primed.
+
+He walked into Gower Street, and pondered the awkward interview that
+now lay before him. On his calling to-morrow, Miss Madeley would
+doubtless come to speak with him at the door; even supposing she had
+a parlour at her disposal, she was not likely to invite a perfect
+stranger into the house. How could he make her acquaintance on the
+doorstep? To be sure, he brought a message, but this commission had
+been so long delayed that he felt some shame about discharging it.
+In any case, his delivery of the message would sound odd; there
+would be embarrassment on both sides.
+
+Why was Eve so uncertain in her comings and goings? Necessity of
+business, perhaps. Yet he had expected quite the opposite state of
+things. From Mrs. Brewer's description of the girl's character, he
+had imagined her leading a life of clockwork regularity. The point
+was very trivial, but it somehow caused a disturbance of his
+thoughts, which tended to misgiving.
+
+In the meantime he had to find quarters for himself. Why not seek
+them in Gower Place?
+
+After ten minutes' sauntering, he retraced his steps, and walked
+down the side of the street opposite to that on which Eve's lodgings
+were situated. Nearly over against that particular house was a
+window with a card. Carelessly he approached the door, and
+carelessly asked to see the rooms that were to let. They were
+comfortless, but would suit his purpose for a time. He engaged a
+sitting-room on the ground-floor, and a bed-room above, and went to
+fetch his luggage from Victoria Station.
+
+On the steamer last night he had not slept, and now that he was once
+more housed, an overpowering fatigue constrained him to lie down and
+close his eyes. Almost immediately lie fell into oblivion, and lay
+sleeping on the cranky sofa, until the entrance of a girl with
+tea-things awakened him.
+
+From his parlour window he could very well observe the houses
+opposite without fear of drawing attention from any one on that
+side; and so it happened that, without deliberate purpose of espial,
+he watched the door of Eve Madeley's residence for a long time;
+till, in fact, he grew weary of the occupation. No one had entered;
+no one had come forth. At half-past seven he took his hat and left
+the house.
+
+Scarcely had he closed the door behind him when he became aware that
+a lightly tripping and rather showily dressed girl, who was coming
+down the other side of the way, had turned off the pavement and was
+plying the knocker at the house which interested him. He gazed
+eagerly. Impossible that a young person of that garb and deportment
+should be Eve Madeley. Her face was hidden from him, and at this
+distance he could not have recognised the features, even presuming
+that his familiarity with the portrait, taken more than two years
+ago, would enable him to identify Eve when he saw her. The door
+opened; the girl was admitted. Afraid of being noticed, he walked
+on.
+
+The distance to the head of the street was not more than thirty
+yards; there lay Gower Street, on the right hand the Metropolitan
+station, to the left a long perspective southwards. Delaying in
+doubt as to his course, Hilliard glanced back. From the house which
+attracted his eyes he saw come forth the girl who had recently
+entered, and close following her another young woman. They began to
+walk sharply towards where he stood.
+
+He did not stir, and the couple drew so near that he could observe
+their faces. In the second girl he recognised--or believed that he
+recognised--Eve Madeley.
+
+She wore a costume in decidedly better taste than her companion's;
+for all that, her appearance struck him as quite unlike that he
+would have expected Eve Madeley to present. He had thought of her as
+very plainly, perhaps poorly, clad; but this attire was ornate, and
+looked rather expensive; it might be in the mode of the new season.
+In figure, she was altogether a more imposing young woman than he
+had pictured to himself. His pulses were sensibly quickened as he
+looked at her.
+
+The examination was of necessity hurried. Walking at a sharp pace,
+they rapidly came close to where he stood. He drew aside to let them
+pass, and at that moment caught a few words of their conversation.
+
+"I told you we should be late," exclaimed the unknown girl, in
+friendly remonstrance.
+
+"What does it matter?" replied Eve--if Eve it were. "I hate
+standing at the doors. We shall find seats somewhere."
+
+Her gay, careless tones astonished the listener. Involuntarily he
+began to follow; but at the edge of the pavement in Gower Street
+they stopped, and by advancing another step or two he distinctly
+overheard the continuation of their talk.
+
+"The 'bus will take a long time."
+
+"Bother the 'bus!" This was Eve Madeley again--if Eve it could
+really be. "We'll have a cab. Look, there's a crawler in Euston
+Road. I've stopped him!"
+
+"I say, Eve, you _are_ going it!"
+
+This exclamation from the other girl was the last sentence that fell
+on Hilliard's ear. They both tripped off towards the cab which Eve's
+gesture had summoned. He saw them jump in and drive away.
+
+"I say, Eve, you _are_ going it!" Why, there his doubt was settled;
+the name confirmed him in his identification. But he stood
+motionless with astonishment.
+
+They were going to a theatre, of course. And Eve spoke as if money
+were of no consequence to her. She had the look, the tones, of one
+bent on enjoying herself, of one who habitually pursued pleasure,
+and that in its most urban forms.
+
+Her companion had a voice of thinner quality, of higher note, which
+proclaimed a subordinate character. It sounded, moreover, with the
+London accent, while Eve's struck a more familiar note to the man of
+the Midlands. Eve seemed to be the elder of the two; it could not be
+thought for a moment that her will was guided by that of the more
+trivial girl.
+
+Eve Madeley--the meek, the melancholy, the long-suffering, the
+pious--what did it all mean?
+
+Utterly bewildered, the young man walked on without thought of
+direction, and rambled dreamily about the streets for an hour or
+two. He could not make up his mind whether or not to fulfil the
+promise of calling to see Miss Madeley to-morrow morning. At one
+moment he regretted having taken lodgings in Gower Place; at another
+he determined to make use of his advantage, and play the spy upon
+Eve's movements without scruple. The interest she had hitherto
+excited in him was faint indeed compared with emotions such as this
+first glimpse of her had kindled and fanned. A sense of peril warned
+him to hold aloof; tumult of his senses rendered the warning
+useless.
+
+At eleven o'clock he was sitting by his bedroom window, in darkness,
+watching the house across the way.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+It was just upon midnight when Eve returned. She came at a quick
+walk, and alone; the light of the street-lamps showed her figure
+distinctly enough to leave the watcher in no doubt. A latchkey
+admitted her to the house. Presently there appeared a light at an
+upper window, and a shadow kept moving across the blind. When the
+light was extinguished Hilliard went to bed, but that night he slept
+little.
+
+The next morning passed in restless debate with himself. He did not
+cross the way to call upon Eve: the thought of speaking with her on
+the doorstep of a lodging-house proved intolerable. All day long he
+kept his post of observation. Other persons he saw leave and enter
+the house, but Miss Madeley did not come forth. That he could have
+missed her seemed impossible, for even while eating his meals he
+remained by the window. Perchance she had left home very early in
+the morning, but it was unlikely.
+
+Through the afternoon it rained: the gloomy sky intensified his
+fatigue and despondence. About six o'clock, exhausted in mind and
+body, he had allowed his attention to stray, when the sudden clang
+of a street organ startled him. His eyes turned in the wonted
+direction--and instantly he sprang up. To clutch his hat, to rush
+from the room and from the house, occupied but a moment. There,
+walking away on the other side, was Eve. Her fawn-coloured mantle,
+her hat with the yellow flowers, were the same as yesterday. The
+rain had ceased; in the western sky appeared promise of a fair
+evening.
+
+Hilliard pursued her in a parallel line. At the top of the street
+she crossed towards him; he let her pass by and followed closely.
+She entered the booking-office of Gower Street station; he drew as
+near as possible and heard her ask for a ticket--
+
+"Healtheries; third return."
+
+The slang term for the Health Exhibition at Kensington was familiar
+to him from the English papers he had seen in Paris. As soon as Eve
+had passed on he obtained a like ticket and hastened down the steps
+in pursuit. A minute or two and he was sitting face to face with her
+in the railway carriage.
+
+He could now observe her at his leisure and compare her features
+with those represented in the photograph. Mrs. Brewer had said truly
+that the portrait did not do her justice; he saw the resemblance,
+yet what a difference between the face he had brooded over at Dudley
+and that which lived before him! A difference not to be accounted
+for by mere lapse of time. She could not, he thought, have changed
+greatly in the last two or three years, for her age at the time of
+sitting for the photograph must have been at least one-and-twenty.
+She did not look older than he had expected: it was still a young
+face, but--and herein he found its strangeness--that of a woman
+who views life without embarrassment, without anxiety. She sat at
+her ease, casting careless glances this way and that. When her eyes
+fell upon him he winced, yet she paid no more heed to him than to
+the other passengers.
+
+Presently she became lost in thought; her eyes fell. Ah! now the
+resemblance to the portrait came out more distinctly. Her lips
+shaped themselves to that expression which he knew so well, the
+half-smile telling of habitual sadness.
+
+His fixed gaze recalled her to herself, and immediately the
+countenance changed beyond recognition. Her eyes wandered past him
+with a look of cold if not defiant reserve; the lips lost all their
+sweetness. He was chilled with vague distrust, and once again asked
+himself whether this could be the Eve Madeley whose history he had
+heard.
+
+Again she fell into abstraction, and some trouble seemed to grow
+upon her mind. It was difficult now to identify her with the girl
+who had talked and laughed so gaily last evening. Towards the end of
+the journey a nervous restlessness began to appear in her looks and
+movements. Hilliard felt that he had annoyed her by the persistency
+of his observation, and tried to keep his eyes averted. But no; the
+disturbance she betrayed was due to some other cause; probably she
+paid not the least regard to him.
+
+At Earl's Court she alighted hurriedly. By this time Hilliard had
+begun to feel shame in the ignoble part he was playing, but choice
+he had none--the girl drew him irresistibly to follow and watch
+her. Among the crowd entering the Exhibition he could easily keep
+her in sight without risk of his espial being detected. That Eve had
+come to keep an appointment with some acquaintance he felt sure, and
+at any cost he must discover who the person was.
+
+The event justified him with unexpected suddenness. No sooner had
+she passed the turnstile than a man stepped forward, saluting her in
+form. Eve shook hands with him, and they walked on.
+
+Uncontrollable wrath seized on Hilliard and shook him from head to
+foot. A meeting of this kind was precisely what he had foreseen, and
+he resented it violently.
+
+Eve's acquaintance had the external attributes of a gentleman. One
+could not easily imagine him a clerk or a shop-assistant smartened
+up for the occasion. He was plain of feature, but wore a pleasant,
+honest look, and his demeanour to the girl showed not only good
+breeding but unmistakable interest of the warmest kind. His age
+might perhaps be thirty; he was dressed well, and in all respects
+conventionally.
+
+In Eve's behaviour there appeared a very noticeable reserve; she
+rarely turned her face to him while he spoke, and seemed to make
+only the briefest remarks. Her attention was given to the objects
+they passed.
+
+Totally unconscious of the scenes through which he was moving,
+Hilliard tracked the couple for more than an hour. He noticed that
+the man once took out his watch, and from this trifling incident he
+sought to derive a hope; perhaps Eve would be quit ere long of the
+detested companionship. They came at length to where a band was
+playing, and sat down on chairs; the pursuer succeeded in obtaining
+a seat behind them, but the clamour of instruments overpowered their
+voices, or rather the man's voice, for Eve seemed not to speak at
+all. One moment, when her neighbour's head approached nearer than
+usual to hers, she drew slightly away.
+
+The music ceased, whereupon Eve's companion again consulted his
+watch.
+
+"It's a most unfortunate thing." He was audible now. "I can't
+possibly stay longer."
+
+Eve moved on her chair, as if in readiness to take leave of him, but
+she did not speak.
+
+"You think it likely you will meet Miss Ringrose?"
+
+Eve answered, but the listener could not catch her words.
+
+"I'm so very sorry. If there had been any----"
+
+The voice sank, and Hilliard could only gather from observance of
+the man's face that he was excusing himself in fervent tones for the
+necessity of departure. Then they both rose and walked a few yards
+together. Finally, with a sense of angry exultation, Hilliard saw
+them part.
+
+For a little while Eve stood watching the musicians, who were making
+ready to play a new piece. As soon as the first note sounded she
+moved slowly, her eyes cast down. With fiercely throbbing heart,
+thinking and desiring and hoping he knew not what, Hilliard once
+more followed her. Night had now fallen; the grounds of the
+Exhibition shone with many-coloured illumination; the throng grew
+dense. It was both easy and necessary to keep very near to the
+object of his interest.
+
+There sounded a clinking of plates, cups, and glasses. People were
+sitting at tables in the open air, supplied with refreshments by the
+waiters who hurried hither and thither. Eve, after a show of
+hesitation, took a seat by a little round table which stood apart;
+her pursuer found a place whence he could keep watch. She gave an
+order, and presently there was brought to her a glass of wine with a
+sandwich.
+
+Hilliard called for a bottle of ale: he was consumed with thirst.
+
+"Dare I approach her?" he asked himself. "Is it possible? And, if
+possible, is it any use?"
+
+The difficulty was to explain his recognition of her. But for that,
+he might justify himself in addressing her.
+
+She had finished her wine and was looking round. Her glance fell
+upon him, and for a moment rested. With a courage not his own,
+Hilliard rose, advanced, and respectfully doffed his hat.
+
+"Miss Madeley----"
+
+The note was half interrogative, but his voice failed before he
+could add another syllable. Eve drew herself up, rigid in the alarm
+of female instinct.
+
+"I am a stranger to you," Hilliard managed to say. "But I come from
+Dudley; I know some of your friends----"
+
+His hurried words fell into coherence. At the name "Dudley" Eve's
+features relaxed.
+
+"Was it you who called at my lodgings the day before yesterday?"
+
+"I did. Your address was given me by Mrs. Brewer, in whose house I
+have lived for a long time. She wished me to call and to give you a
+kind message--to say how glad they would be to hear from you----"
+
+"But you _didn't_ leave the message."
+
+The smile put Hilliard at his ease, it was so gentle and friendly.
+
+"I wasn't able to come at the time I mentioned. I should have called
+to-morrow."
+
+"But how is it that you knew me? I think," she added, without
+waiting for a reply, "that I have seen you somewhere. But I can't
+remember where."
+
+"Perhaps in the train this evening?"
+
+"Yes so it was You knew me then?"
+
+"I thought I did, for I happened to come out from my lodgings at the
+moment you were leaving yours, just opposite, and we walked almost
+together to Gower Street station. I must explain that I have taken
+rooms in Gower Place. I didn't like to speak to you in the street;
+but now that I have again chanced to see you----"
+
+"I still don't understand," said Eve, who was speaking with the most
+perfect ease of manner. "I am not the only person living in that
+house. Why should you take it for granted that I was Miss Madeley?"
+
+Hilliard had not ventured to seat himself; he stood before her, head
+respectfully bent.
+
+"At Mrs. Brewer's I saw your portrait."
+
+Her eyes fell.
+
+"My portrait. You really could recognise me from that?"
+
+"Oh, readily! Will you allow me to sit down?"
+
+"Of course. I shall be glad to hear the news you have brought. I
+couldn't imagine who it was had called and wanted to see me. But
+there's another thing. I didn't think Mrs. Brewer knew my address. I
+have moved since I wrote to her daughter."
+
+"No; it was the old address she gave me. I ought to have mentioned
+that: it escaped my mind. First of all I went to Belmont Street."
+
+"Mysteries still!" exclaimed Eve. "The people _there_ couldn't know
+where I had gone to."
+
+"A child who had carried some parcel for you to Gower Place
+volunteered information."
+
+Outwardly amused, and bearing herself as though no incident could
+easily disconcert her, Eve did not succeed in suppressing every sign
+of nervousness. Constrained by his wonder to study her with critical
+attention, the young man began to feel assured that she was
+consciously acting a part. That she should be able to carry it off
+so well, therein lay the marvel. Of course, London had done much for
+her. Possessing no common gifts, she must have developed remarkably
+under changed conditions, and must, indeed, have become a very
+different person from the country girl who toiled to support her
+drunken father's family. Hilliard remembered the mention of her
+sister who had gone to Birmingham disappeared; it suggested a
+characteristic of the Madeley blood, which possibly must be borne in
+mind if he would interpret Eve.
+
+She rested her arms on the little round table.
+
+"So Mrs. Brewer asked you to come and find me?"
+
+"It was only a suggestion, and I may as well tell you how it came
+about. I used to have my meals in Mrs. Brewer's parlour, and to
+amuse myself I looked over her album. There I found your portrait,
+and--well, it interested me, and I asked the name of the
+original."
+
+Hilliard was now in command of himself; he spoke with simple
+directness, as his desires dictated.
+
+"And Mrs. Brewer," said Eve, with averted eyes, "told you about me?"
+
+"She spoke of you as her daughter's friend," was the evasive answer.
+Eve seemed to accept it as sufficient, and there was a long silence.
+
+"My name is Hilliard," the young man resumed. "I am taking the first
+holiday, worth speaking of, that I have known for a good many years.
+At Dudley my business was to make mechanical drawings, and I can't
+say that I enjoyed the occupation."
+
+"Are you going back to it?"
+
+"Not just yet. I have been in France, and I may go abroad again
+before long."
+
+"For your pleasure?" Eve asked, with interest.
+
+"To answer 'Yes' wouldn't quite express what I mean. I am learning
+to live."
+
+She hastily searched his face for the interpretation of these words,
+then looked away, with grave, thoughtful countenance.
+
+"By good fortune," Hilliard pursued. "I have become possessed of
+money enough to live upon for a year or two. At the end of it I may
+find myself in the old position, and have to be a living machine
+once more. But I shall be able to remember that I was once a man."
+
+Eve regarded him strangely, with wide, in tent eyes, as though his
+speech had made a peculiar impression upon her.
+
+"Can you see any sense in that?" he asked, smiling.
+
+"Yes. I think I understand you."
+
+She spoke slowly, and Hilliard, watching her, saw in her face more
+of the expression of her portrait than he had yet discovered. Her
+soft tone was much more like what he had expected to hear than her
+utterances hitherto.
+
+"Have you always lived at Dudley?" she asked.
+
+He sketched rapidly the course of his life, without reference to
+domestic circumstances. Before he had ceased speaking he saw that
+Eve's look was directed towards something at a distance behind him;
+she smiled, and at length nodded, in recognition of some person who
+approached. Then a voice caused him to look round.
+
+"Oh, there you are! I have been hunting for you ever so long."
+
+As soon as Hilliard saw the speaker, he had no difficulty in
+remembering her. It was Eve's companion of the day before yesterday,
+with whom she had started for the theatre. The girl evidently felt
+some surprise at discovering her friend in conversation with a man
+she did not know; but Eve was equal to the situation, and spoke
+calmly.
+
+"This gentleman is from my part of the world--from Dudley. Mr.
+Hilliard--Miss Ringrose."
+
+Hilliard stood up. Miss Ringrose, after attempting a bow of formal
+dignity, jerked out her hand, gave a shy little laugh, and said with
+amusing abruptness--
+
+"Do you really come from Dudley?"
+
+"I do really, Miss Ringrose. Why does it sound strange to you?"
+
+"Oh, I don't mean that it sounds strange." She spoke in a high but
+not unmusical note, very quickly, and with timid glances to either
+side of her collocutor. "But Eve--Miss Madeley--gave me the idea
+that Dudley people must be great, rough, sooty men. Don't laugh at
+me, please. You know very well, Eve, that you always talk in that
+way. Of course, I knew that there must be people of a different
+kind, but--there now, you're making me confused, and I don't know
+what I meant to say."
+
+She was a thin-faced, but rather pretty girl, with auburn hair.
+Belonging to a class which, especially in its women, has little
+intelligence to boast of, she yet redeemed herself from the charge
+of commonness by a certain vivacity of feature and an agreeable
+suggestion of good feeling in her would-be frank but nervous manner.
+Hilliard laughed merrily at the vision in her mind of "great, rough,
+sooty men."
+
+"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Miss Ringrose."
+
+"No, but really--what sort of a place is Dudley? Is it true that
+they call it the Black Country?"
+
+"Let us walk about," interposed Eve. "Mr. Hilliard will tell you all
+he can about the Black Country."
+
+She moved on, and they rambled aimlessly; among cigar-smoking clerks
+and shopmen, each with the female of his kind in wondrous hat and
+drapery; among domestic groups from the middle-class suburbs, and
+from regions of the artisan; among the frankly rowdy and the
+solemnly superior; here and there a man in evening dress, generally
+conscious of his white tie and starched shirt, and a sprinkling of
+unattached young women with roving eyes. Hilliard, excited by the
+success of his advances, and by companionship after long solitude,
+became very unlike himself, talking and jesting freely. Most of the
+conversation passed between him and Miss Ringrose; Eve had fallen
+into an absent mood, answered carelessly when addressed, laughed
+without genuine amusement, and sometimes wore the look of trouble
+which Hilliard had observed whilst in the train.
+
+Before long she declared that it was time to go home.
+
+"What's the hurry?" said her friend. "It's nothing like ten o'clock
+yet--is it, Mr. Hilliard?"
+
+"I don't wish to stay any longer. Of course you needn't go unless
+you like, Patty."
+
+Hilliard had counted on travelling back with her; to his great
+disappointment, Eve answered his request to be allowed to do so with
+a coldly civil refusal which there was no misunderstanding.
+
+"But I hope you will let me see you again?"
+
+"As you live so near me," she answered, "we are pretty sure to meet.
+Are you coming or not, Patty?"
+
+"Oh, of course I shall go if you do."
+
+The young man shook hands with them; rather formally with Eve, with
+Patty Ringrose as cordially as if they were old friends. And then he
+lost sight of them amid the throng.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+How did Eve Madeley contrive to lead this life of leisure and
+amusement? The question occupied Hilliard well on into the small
+hours; he could hit upon no explanation which had the least
+plausibility.
+
+Was she engaged to be married to the man who met her at the
+Exhibition? Her behaviour in his company by no means supported such
+a surmise; yet there must be something more than ordinary
+acquaintance between the two.
+
+Might not Patty Ringrose be able and willing to solve for him the
+riddle of Eve's existence? But he had no idea where Patty lived. He
+recalled her words in Gower Street: "You _are_ going it, Eve!" and
+they stirred miserable doubts; yet something more than mere hope
+inclined him to believe that the girl's life was innocent. Her look,
+her talk reassured him; so did her friendship with such a person as
+the ingenuous Patty. On learning that he dwelt close by her she gave
+no sign of an uneasy conscience.
+
+In any case, the contrast between her actual life and that suggested
+by Mrs. Brewer's talk about her was singular enough. It supplied him
+with a problem of which the interest would not easily be exhausted.
+But he must pursue the study with due regard to honour and delicacy;
+he would act the spy no more. As Eve had said, they were pretty sure
+to meet before long; if his patience failed it was always possible
+for him to write a letter.
+
+Four days went by and he saw nothing of her. On the fifth, as he was
+walking homeward in the afternoon, he came face to face with Miss
+Madeley in Gower Street. She stopped at once, and offered a friendly
+hand.
+
+"Will you let me walk a little way with you?" he asked.
+
+"Certainly. I'm just going to change a book at Mudie's." She carried
+a little handbag. "I suppose you have been going about London a
+great deal? Don't the streets look beautiful at this time of the
+year?"
+
+"Beautiful? I'm not sure that I see much beauty."
+
+"Oh, don't you? I delight in London. I had dreamt of it all my life
+before I came here. I always said to myself I should some day live
+in London."
+
+Her voice to-day had a vibrant quality which seemed to result from
+some agreeable emotion. Hilliard remarked a gleam in her eyes and a
+colour in her cheeks which gave her an appearance of better health
+than a few days ago.
+
+"You never go into the country?" he said, feeling unable to join in
+her praise of London, though it was intelligible enough to him.
+
+"I go now and then as far as Hampstead Heath," Eve answered with a
+smile. "If it's fine I shall be there next Sunday with Patty
+Ringrose."
+
+Hilliard grasped the opportunity. Would she permit him to meet her
+and Miss Ringrose at Hampstead? Without shadow of constraint or
+affectation, Eve replied that such a meeting would give her
+pleasure: she mentioned place and time at which they might
+conveniently encounter.
+
+He walked with her all the way to the library, and attended her back
+to Gower Place. The result of this conversation was merely to
+intensify the conflict of feelings. which Eve had excited in him.
+Her friendliness gave him no genuine satisfaction; her animated
+mood, in spite of the charm to which he submitted, disturbed him
+with mistrust. Nothing she said sounded quite sincere, yet it was
+more difficult than ever to imagine that she played a part quite
+alien to her disposition.
+
+No word had fallen from her which threw light upon her present
+circumstances, and he feared to ask any direct question. It had
+surprised him to learn that she subscribed to Mudie's. The book she
+brought away with her was a newly published novel, and in the few
+words they exchanged on the subject while standing at the library
+counter she seemed to him to exhibit a surprising acquaintance with
+the literature of the day. Of his own shortcomings in this respect
+he was but too sensible, and he began to feel himself an
+intellectual inferior, where every probability had prepared him for
+the reverse.
+
+The next morning he went to Mudie's on his own account, and came
+away with volumes chosen from those which lay on the counter. He was
+tired of wandering about the town, and might as well pass his time
+in reading.
+
+When Sunday came, he sought the appointed spot at Hampstead, and
+there, after an hour's waiting, met the two friends. Eve was no
+longer in her vivacious mood; brilliant sunshine, and the breeze
+upon the heath, had no power to inspirit her; spoke in
+monosyllables, and behaved with unaccountable reserve. Hilliard had
+no choice but to converse with Patty, who was as gay and
+entertaining as ever. In the course of their gossip he learnt that
+Miss Ringrose was employed at a music-shop, kept by her uncle, where
+she sold the latest songs and dances, and "tried over" on a piano
+any unfamiliar piece which a customer might think of purchasing. It
+was not easy to understand how these two girls came to be so
+intimate, for they seemed to have very little in common. Compared
+with Eve Madeley, Patty was an insignificant little person; but of
+her moral uprightness Hilliard felt only the more assured the longer
+he talked with her, and this still had a favourable effect upon his
+estimate of Eve.
+
+Again there passed a few days without event. But about nine o'clock
+on Wednesday evening, as he sat at home over a book, his landlady
+entered the room with a surprising announcement.
+
+"There's a young lady wishes to see you, Sir. Miss Ringrose is the
+name."
+
+Hilliard sprang up.
+
+"Please ask her to come in."
+
+The woman eyed him in a manner he was too excited to understand.
+
+"She would like to speak to you at the door, Sir, if you wouldn't
+mind going out."
+
+He hastened thither. The front door stood open, and a light from the
+passage shone on Patty's face. In the girl's look he saw at once
+that something was wrong.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Hilliard--I didn't know your number--I've been to a lot
+of houses asking for you----"
+
+"What is it?" he inquired, going out on to the doorstep.
+
+"I called to see Eve, and--I don't know what it meant, but she's
+gone away. The landlady says she left this morning with her luggage
+--went away for good. And it's so strange that she hasn't let me
+know anything. I can't understand it. I wanted to ask if you know
+----"
+
+Hilliard stared at the house opposite.
+
+"I? I know nothing whatever about it. Come in and tell me----"
+
+"If you wouldn't mind coming out----"
+
+"Yes, yes. One moment; I'll get my hat."
+
+He rejoined the girl, and they turned in the direction of Euston
+Square, where people were few.
+
+"I couldn't help coming to see you, Mr. Hilliard," said Patty, whose
+manner indicated the gravest concern. "It has put me in such a
+fright. I haven't seen her since Sunday. I came to-night, as soon as
+I could get away from the shop, because I didn't feel easy in my
+mind about her."
+
+"Why did you feel anxious? What has been going on?"
+
+He search her face. Patty turned away, kept silence for a moment, al
+at length, with one of her wonted outbursts of confidence, said
+nervously:
+
+"It's something I can't explain. But as you were a friend of hers
+----"
+
+A man came by, and Patty broke off.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+Hilliard waited for her to continue, but Patty kept her eyes down
+and said no more.
+
+"Did you think," he asked, "that I was likely to be in Miss
+Madeley's confidence?"
+
+"You've known her a long time, haven't you?"
+
+This proof of reticence, or perhaps of deliberate misleading, on
+Eve's part astonished Hilliard. He replied evasively that he had
+very little acquaintance with Miss Madeley's affairs, and added:
+
+"May she not simply have changed her lodgings?"
+
+"Why should she go so suddenly, and without letting me know?"
+
+"What had the landlady to say?"
+
+"She heard her tell the cab to drive to Mudie's--the library, you
+know."
+
+"Why," said Hilliard; "that meant, perhaps, that she wanted to
+return a book before leaving London. Is there any chance that she
+has gone home--to Dudley? Perhaps her father is ill, and she was
+sent for."
+
+Patty admitted this possibility, but with every sign of doubt.
+
+"The landlady said she had a letter this morning."
+
+"Did she? Then it may have been from Dudley. But you know her so
+much better than I do. Of course, you mustn't tell me anything you
+don't feel it right to speak of; still, did it occur to you that I
+could be of any use?"
+
+"No, I didn't think; I only came because I was so upset when I found
+her gone. I knew you lived in Gower Place somewhere, and I thought
+you might have seen her since Sunday."
+
+"I have not. But surely you will hear from her very soon. You may
+even get a letter tonight, or to-morrow morning."
+
+Patty gave a little spring of hopefulness.
+
+"Yes; a letter might come by the last post to-night. I'll go home at
+once."
+
+"And I will come with you," said Hilliard. "Then you can tell me
+whether you have any news."
+
+They turned and walked towards the foot of Hampstead Road, whence
+they could go by tram-car to Patty's abode in High Street, Camden
+Town. Supported by the hope of finding a letter when she arrived,
+Miss Ringrose grew more like herself.
+
+"You must have wondered what _ever_ I meant by calling to see you,
+Mr. Hilliard. I went to five or six houses before I hit on the right
+one. I do wish now that I'd waited a little, but I'm always doing
+things in that way and being sorry for them directly after. Eve is
+my best friend, you know, and that makes me so anxious about her."
+
+"How long have you known her?"
+
+"Oh, ever so long--about a year."
+
+The temptation to make another inquiry was too strong for Hilliard.
+
+"Where has she been employed of late?"
+
+Patty looked up at him with surprise.
+
+"Oh, don't you know? She isn't doing anything now. The people where
+she was went bankrupt, and she's been out of a place for more than a
+month."
+
+"Can't find another engagement?"
+
+"She hasn't tried yet. She's taking a holiday. It isn't very nice
+work, adding up money all day. I'm sure it would drive me out of my
+senses very soon. I think she might find something better than
+that."
+
+Miss Ringrose continued to talk of her friend all the way to Camden
+Town, but the information he gathered did not serve to advance
+Hilliard in his understanding of Eve's character. That she was
+keeping back something of grave import the girl had already
+confessed, and in her chatter she frequently checked herself on the
+verge of an indiscretion. Hilliard took for granted that the mystery
+had to do with the man he had seen at Earl's Court. If Eve actually
+disappeared, he would not scruple to extract from Patty all that she
+knew; but he must see first whether Eve would communicate with her
+friend.
+
+In High Street Patty entered a small shop which was on the point of
+being closed for the night.
+
+Hilliard waited for her a few yards away; on her return he saw at
+once that she was disappointed.
+
+"There's nothing!"
+
+"It may come in the morning. I should like to know whether you hear
+or not."
+
+"Would this be out of your way?" asked Patty. "I'm generally alone
+in the shop from half-past one to half-past two. There's very seldom
+any business going on then."
+
+"Then I will come to-morrow at that time."
+
+"Do, please? If I haven't heard anything I shall be that nervous."
+
+They talked to no purpose for a few minutes, and bade each other
+good-night.
+
+Next day, at the hour Patty had appointed, Hilliard was again in
+High Street. As he approached the shop he heard from within the
+jingle of a piano. A survey through the closed glass door showed him
+Miss Ringrose playing for her own amusement. He entered, and Patty
+jumped up with a smile of welcome.
+
+"It's all right! I had a letter this morning. She _has_ gone to
+Dudley."
+
+"Ah! I am glad to hear it. Any reason given?"
+
+"Nothing particular," answered the girl, striking a note on the
+piano with her forefinger. "She thought she might as well go home
+for a week or two before taking another place. She has heard of
+something in Holborn."
+
+"So your alarm was groundless."
+
+"Oh--I didn't really feel alarmed, Mr. Hilliard. You mustn't think
+that. I often do silly things."
+
+Patty's look and tone were far from reassuring. Evidently she had
+been relieved from her suspense, but no less plainly did she seek to
+avoid an explanation of it. Hilliard began to glance about the shop.
+
+"My uncle," resumed Patty, turning with her wonted sprightliness to
+another subject, "always goes out for an hour or two in the middle
+of the day to play billiards. I can tell by his face when he comes
+back whether he's lost or won; he does so take it to heart, silly
+man! Do _you_ play billiards?"
+
+The other shook his head.
+
+"I thought not. You have a serious look."
+
+Hilliard did not relish this compliment. He imagined he had cast
+away his gloom; he desired to look like the men who take life with
+easy courage. As he gazed through the glass door into the street, a
+figure suddenly blocked his prospect, and a face looked in. Then the
+door opened, and there entered a young man of clerkly appearance,
+who glanced from Miss Ringrose to her companion with an air of
+severity. Patty had reddened a little.
+
+"What are _you_ doing here at this time of day?" she asked
+familiarly.
+
+"Oh--business--had to look up a man over here. Thought I'd speak
+a word as I passed."
+
+Hilliard drew aside.
+
+"Who has opened this new shop opposite?" added the young man,
+beckoning from the doorway.
+
+A more transparent pretext for drawing Patty away could not have
+been conceived; but she readily lent herself to it, and followed.
+The door closed behind them. In a few minutes Patty returned alone,
+with rosy cheeks and mutinous lips.
+
+"I'm very sorry to have been in the way," said Hilliard, smiling.
+
+"Oh, not you. It's all right. Someone I know. He can be sensible
+enough when he likes, but sometimes he's such a silly there's no
+putting up with him. Have you heard the new waltz--the Ballroom
+Queen?"
+
+She sat down and rattled over this exhilarating masterpiece.
+
+"Thank you," said Hilliard. "You play very cleverly."
+
+"Oh, so can anybody--that's nothing."
+
+"Does Miss Madeley play at all?"
+
+"No. She's always saying she wishes she could but I tell her, what
+does it matter? She knows no end of things that I don't, and I'd a
+good deal rather have that."
+
+"She reads a good deal, I suppose?"
+
+"Oh, I should think she does, just! And she can speak French."
+
+"Indeed? How did she learn?"
+
+"At the place where she was bookkeeper there was a young lady from
+Paris, and they shared lodgings, and Eve learnt it from her. Then
+her friend went to Paris again, and Eve wanted very much to go with
+her, but she didn't see how to manage it. Eve," she added, with a
+laugh, "is always wanting to do something that's impossible."
+
+A week later, Hilliard again called at the music-shop, and talked
+for half an hour with Miss Ringrose, who had no fresh news from Eve.
+His visits were repeated at intervals of a few days, and at length,
+towards the end of June, he learnt that Miss Madeley was about to
+return to London; she had obtained a new engagement, at the
+establishment in Holborn of which Patty had spoken.
+
+"And will she come back to her old lodgings?" he inquired.
+
+Patty shook her head.
+
+"She'll stay with me. I wanted her to come here before, but she
+didn't care about it. Now she's altered her mind, and I'm very
+glad."
+
+Hilliard hesitated in putting the next question.
+
+"Do you still feel anxious about her?"
+
+The girl met his eyes for an instant.
+
+"No. It's all right now."
+
+"There's one thing I should like you to tell me--if you can."
+
+"About Miss Madeley?"
+
+"I don't think there can be any harm in your saying yes or no. Is
+she engaged to be married?"
+
+Patty replied with a certain eagerness.
+
+"No! Indeed she isn't. And she never has been."
+
+"Thank you." Hilliard gave a sigh of relief. "I'm very glad to know
+that."
+
+"Of course you are," Patty answered, with a laugh.
+
+As usual, after one of her frank remarks, she turned away and struck
+chords on the piano. Hilliard meditated the while, until his
+companion spoke again.
+
+"You'll see her before long, I dare say?"
+
+"Perhaps. I don't know."
+
+"At all events, you'll _want_ to see her."
+
+"Most likely."
+
+"Will you promise me something?"
+
+"If it's in my power to keep the promise."
+
+"It's only--I should be so glad if you wouldn't mention anything
+about my coming to see you that night in Gower Place."
+
+"I won't speak of it."
+
+"Quite sure?"
+
+"You may depend upon me. Would you rather she didn't know that I
+have seen you at all?"
+
+"Oh, there's no harm in that. I should be sure to let it out. I
+shall say we met by chance somewhere."
+
+"Very well. I feel tempted to ask a promise iii return."
+
+Patty stood with her hands behind her, eyes wide and lips slightly
+apart.
+
+"It is this," he continued, lowering his voice. "If ever you should
+begin to feel anxious again about her will you let me know?"
+
+Her reply was delayed; it came at length in the form of an
+embarrassed nod. Thereupon Hilliard pressed her hand and departed.
+
+He knew the day on which Eve would arrive in London; from morning to
+night a feverish unrest drove him about the streets. On the morrow
+he was scarcely more at ease, and for several days he lived totally
+without occupation, save in his harassing thoughts. He paced and
+repaced the length of Holborn, wondering where it was that Eve had
+found employment; but from Camden Town he held aloof.
+
+One morning there arrived for him a postcard on which was scribbled:
+"We are going to the Savoy on Saturday night. Gallery." No
+signature, no address; but of course the writer must be Patty
+Ringrose. Mentally, he thanked her with much fervour. And on the
+stated evening, nearly an hour before the opening of the doors, he
+climbed the stone steps leading to the gallery entrance of the Savoy
+Theatre. At the summit two or three persons were already waiting--
+strangers to him. He leaned against the wall, and read an evening
+paper. At every sound of approaching feet his eyes watched with
+covert eagerness. Presently he heard a laugh, echoing from below,
+and recognised Patty's voice; then Miss Ringrose appeared round the
+winding in the staircase, and was followed by Eve Madeley. Patty
+glanced up, and smiled consciously as she discovered the face she
+had expected to see; but Eve remained for some minutes unaware of
+her acquaintance's proximity. Scrutinising her appearance, as he
+could at his ease, Hilliard thought she looked far from well: she
+had a tired, dispirited expression, and paid no heed to the people
+about her. Her dress was much plainer than that she wore a month
+ago.
+
+He saw Patty whispering to her companion, and, as a result, Eve's
+eyes turned in his direction. He met her look, and had no difficulty
+in making his way down two or three steps, to join her. The
+reception she gave him was one of civil indifference. Hilliard made
+no remark on what seemed the chance of their encounter, nor did he
+speak of her absence from London; they talked, as far as talk was
+possible under the circumstances, of theatrical and kindred
+subjects. He could not perceive that the girl was either glad or
+sorry to have met him again; but by degrees her mood brightened a
+little, and she exclaimed with pleasure when the opening of the door
+caused an upward movement.
+
+"You have been away," he said, when they were in their places, he at
+one side of Eve, Patty on the other.
+
+"Yes. At Dudley."
+
+"Did you see Mrs. Brewer?"
+
+"Several times. She hasn't got another lodger yet, and wishes you
+would go back again. A most excellent character she gave you."
+
+This sounded satirical.
+
+"I deserved the best she could say of me," Hilliard answered.
+
+Eve glanced at him, smiled doubtfully, and turned to talk with Patty
+Ringrose. Through the evening there was no further mention of
+Dudley. Eve could with difficulty be induced to converse at all, and
+when the entertainment was over she pointedly took leave of him
+within the theatre. But while shaking hands with Patty, he saw
+something in that young lady's face which caused him to nod and
+smile.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+There came an afternoon early in July when Hilliard, tired with a
+long ramble in search of old City churches--his architectural
+interests never failed--sought rest and coolness in a Fleet Street
+tavern of time-honoured name. It was long since he had yielded to
+any extravagance; to-day his palate demanded wine, and with wine he
+solaced it. When he went forth again into the roaring highway things
+glowed before him in a mellow light: the sounds of Fleet Street made
+music to his ears; he looked with joyous benignity into the faces of
+men and women, and nowhere discovered a countenance inharmonious
+with his gallant mood.
+
+No longer weary, he strolled westward, content with the
+satisfactions of each passing moment. "This," he said to himself,
+"is the joy of life. Past and future are alike powerless over me; I
+live in the glorious sunlight of this summer day, under the
+benediction of a greathearted wine. Noble wine! Friend of the
+friendless, companion of the solitary, lifter-up of hearts that are
+oppressed, inspirer of brave thoughts in them that fail beneath the
+burden of being. Thanks to thee, O priceless wine!"
+
+A bookseller's window arrested him. There, open to the gaze of every
+pedestrian, stood a volume of which the sight made him thrill with
+rapture; a finely illustrated folio, a treatise on the Cathedrals of
+France. Five guineas was the price it bore. A moment's lingering,
+restrained by some ignoble spirit of thrift which the wine had not
+utterly overcome, and he entered the shop. He purchased the volume.
+It would have pleased him to carry it away, but in mere good-nature
+he allowed the shopman's suggestion to prevail, and gave his address
+that the great tome might be sent to him.
+
+How cheap it was--five guineas for so much instant delight and
+such boundless joy of anticipation!
+
+On one of the benches in Trafalgar Square he sat for a long time
+watching the fountains, and ever and anon letting them lead his eyes
+upwards to the great snowy clouds that gleamed upon the profound
+blue. Some ragged children were at play near him; he searched his
+pocket, collected coppers and small silver, and with a friendly cry
+of "Holloa, you ragamuffins!" scattered amazement and delight.
+
+St. Martin's Church told him that the hour was turned of six. Then a
+purpose that had hung vaguely in his mind like a golden mist took
+form and substance. He set off to walk northward, came out into
+Holborn, and loitered in the neighbourhood of a certain place of
+business, which of late he had many times observed. It was not long
+that he had to wait. Presently there came forth someone whom he
+knew, and with quick steps he gained her side.
+
+Eve Madeley perceived him without surprise.
+
+"Yes," he said, "I am here again. If it's disagreeable to you, tell
+me, and I will go my own way at once."
+
+"I have no wish to send you away," she answered, with a smile of
+self-possession. "But all the same, I think it would be wiser if you
+did go."
+
+"Ah, then, if you leave me to judge for myself----! You look tired
+this evening. I have something to say to you; let us turn for a
+moment up this byway."
+
+"No, let us walk straight on."
+
+"I beg of you!--Now you are kind. I am going to dine at a
+restaurant. Usually, I eat my dinner at home--a bad dinner and a
+cheerless room. On such an evening as this I can't go back and
+appease hunger in that animal way. But when I sit down in the
+restaurant I shall be alone. It's miserable to see the groups of
+people enjoying themselves all round and to sit lonely. I can't tell
+you how long it is since I had a meal in company. Will you come and
+dine with me?"
+
+"I can't do that."
+
+"Where's the impossibility?"
+
+"I shouldn't like to do it."
+
+"But would it be so very disagreeable to sit and talk? Or, I won't
+ask you to talk; only to let me talk to you. Give me an hour or two
+of your time--that's what I ask. It means so much to me, and to
+you, what does it matter?"
+
+Eve walked on in silence; his entreaties kept pace with her. At
+length she stopped.
+
+"It's all the same to me--if you wish it----"
+
+"Thank you a thousand times!"
+
+They walked back into Holborn, and Hilliard, talking merely of
+trifles, led the way to a great hall, where some scores of people
+were already dining. He selected a nook which gave assurance of
+privacy, sketched to the waiter a modest but carefully chosen
+repast, and from his seat on the opposite side of the table laughed
+silently at Eve as she leaned back on the plush cushions. In no way
+disconcerted by the show of luxury about her, Eve seemed to be
+reflecting, not without enjoyment.
+
+"You would rather be here than going home in the Camden Town 'bus?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"That's what I like in you. You have courage to tell the truth. When
+you said that you couldn't come, it was what you really thought Now
+that you have learnt your mistake, you confess it."
+
+"I couldn't have done it if I hadn't made up my mind that it was all
+the same, whether I came or refused."
+
+"All the same to you. Yes; I'm quite willing that you should think
+it so. It puts me at my ease. I have nothing to reproach myself
+with. Ah, but how good it is to sit here and talk!"
+
+"Don't you know anyone else who would come with you? Haven't you
+made any friends?"
+
+"Not one. You and Miss Ringrose are the only persons I know in
+London."
+
+"I can't understand why you live in that way."
+
+"How should I make friends--among men? Why, it's harder than
+making money--which I have never done yet, and never shall, I'm
+afraid."
+
+Eve averted her eyes, and again seemed to meditate.
+
+"I'll tell you," pursued the young man "how the money came to me
+that I am living on now. It'll fill up the few moments while we are
+waiting."
+
+He made of it an entertaining narrative, which he concluded just as
+the soup was laid before them. Eve listened with frank curiosity,
+with an amused smile. Then came a lull in the conversation. Hilliard
+began his dinner with appetite and gusto; the girl, after a few
+sips, neglected her soup and glanced about the neighboring tables.
+
+"In my position," said Hilliard at length, "what would you have
+done?"
+
+"It's a difficult thing to put myself in your position."
+
+"Is it, really? Why, then, I will tell you something more of myself.
+You say that Mrs. Brewer gave me an excellent character?"
+
+"I certainly shouldn't have known you from her description."
+
+Hilliard laughed.
+
+"I seem to you so disreputable?"
+
+"Not exactly that," replied Eve thoughtfully. "But you seem
+altogether a different person from what you seemed to her."
+
+"Yes, I can understand that. And it gives me an opportunity for
+saying that you, Miss Madeley, are as different as possible from the
+idea I formed of you when I heard Mrs. Brewer's description."
+
+"She described me? I should so like to hear what she said."
+
+The changing of plates imposed a brief silence. Hilliard drank a
+glass of wine and saw that Eve just touched hers with her lips.
+
+"You shall hear that--but not now. I want to enable you to judge
+me, and if I let you know the facts while dinner goes on it won't be
+so tiresome as if I began solemnly to tell you my life, as people do
+in novels."
+
+He erred, if anything, on the side of brevity, but in the succeeding
+quarter of an hour Eve was able to gather from his careless talk,
+which sedulously avoided the pathetic note, a fair notion of what
+his existence had been from boyhood upward. It supplemented the
+account of himself she had received from him when they met for the
+first time. As he proceeded she grew more attentive, and
+occasionally allowed her eyes to encounter his.
+
+"There's only one other person who has heard all this from me," he
+said at length. "That's a friend of mine at Birmingham--a man
+called Narramore. When I got Dengate's money I went to Narramore,
+and I told him what use I was going to make of it."
+
+"That's what you haven't told me," remarked the listener.
+
+"I will, now that you can understand me. I resolved to go right away
+from all the sights and sounds that I hated, and to live a man's
+life, for just as long as the money would last."
+
+"What do you mean by a man's life?"
+
+"Why, a life of enjoyment, instead of a life not worthy to be called
+life at all. This is part of it, this evening. I have had enjoyable
+hours since I left Dudley, but never yet one like this. And because
+I owe it to you, I shall remember you with gratitude as long as I
+remember any. thing at all."
+
+"That's a mistake," said Eve. "You owe the enjoyment, whatever it
+is, to your money, not to me."
+
+"You prefer to look at it in that way. Be it so. I had a delightful
+month in Paris, but I was driven back to England by loneliness. Now,
+if _you_ had been there! If I could have seen you each evening for
+an hour or two, had dinner with you at the restaurant, talked with
+you about what I had seen in the day--but that would have been
+perfection, and I have never hoped for more than moderate, average
+pleasure--such as ordinary well-to-do men take as their right."
+
+"What did you do in Paris?"
+
+"Saw things I have longed to see any time the last fifteen years or
+so. Learned to talk a little French. Got to feel a better educated
+man than I was before."
+
+"Didn't Dudley seem a long way off when you were there?" asked Eve
+half absently.
+
+"In another planet.--You thought once of going to Paris; Miss
+Ringrose told me."
+
+Eve knitted her brows, and made no answer.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+When fruit had been set before them--and as he was peeling a
+banana:
+
+"What a vast difference," said Hilliard, "between the life of people
+who dine, and of those who don't! It isn't the mere pleasure of
+eating, the quality of the food--though that must have a great
+influence on mind and character. But to sit for an hour or two each
+evening in quiet, orderly enjoyment, with graceful things about one,
+talking of whatever is pleasant--how it civilises! Until three
+months ago I never dined in my life, and I know well what a change
+it has made in me."
+
+"I never dined till this evening," said Eve.
+
+"Never? This is the first time you have been at a restaurant?"
+
+"For dinner--yes."
+
+Hilliard heard the avowal with surprise and delight. After all,
+there could not have been much intimacy between her and the man she
+met at the Exhibition.
+
+"When I go back to slavery," he continued, "I shall bear it more
+philosophically. It was making me a brute, but I think there'll be
+no more danger of that. The memory of civilisation will abide with
+me. I shall remind myself that I was once a free man, and that will
+support me."
+
+Eve regarded him with curiosity.
+
+"Is there no choice?" she asked. "While you have money, couldn't you
+find some better way of earning a living?"
+
+"I have given it a thought now and then, but it's very doubtful.
+There's only one thing at which I might have done well, and that's
+architecture. From studying it just for my own pleasure, I believe I
+know more about architecture than most men who are not in the
+profession; but it would take a long time before I could earn money
+by it. I could prepare myself to be an architectural draughtsman, no
+doubt, and might do as well that way as drawing machinery. But----"
+
+"Then why don't you go to work! It would save you from living in
+hideous places."
+
+"After all, does it matter much? If I had anything else to gain.
+Suppose I had any hope of marriage, for instance----"
+
+He said it playfully. Eve turned her eyes away, but gave no other
+sign of self-consciousness.
+
+"I have no such hope. I have seen too much of marriage in poverty."
+
+"So have I," said his companion, with quiet emphasis.
+
+"And when a man's absolutely sure that he will never have an income
+of more than a hundred and fifty pounds----"
+
+"It's a crime if he asks a woman to share it," Eve added coldly.
+
+"I agree with you. It's well to understand each other on that point.
+--Talking of architecture, I bought a grand book this afternoon."
+
+He described the purchase, and mentioned what it cost.
+
+"But at that rate," said Eve, "your days of slavery will come again
+very soon."
+
+"Oh! it's so rarely that I spend a large sum. On most days I satisfy
+myself with the feeling of freedom, and live as poorly as ever I
+did. Still, don't suppose that I am bent on making my money last a
+very long time. I can imagine myself spending it all in a week or
+two, and feeling I had its worth. The only question is, how can I
+get most enjoyment? The very best of a lifetime may come within a
+single day. Indeed, I believe it very often does."
+
+"I doubt that--at least, I know that it couldn't be so with me."
+
+"Well, what do you aim at?" Hilliard asked disinterestedly.
+
+"Safety," was the prompt reply.
+
+"Safety? From what?"
+
+"From years of struggle to keep myself alive, and a miserable old
+age."
+
+"Then you might have said--a safety-match."
+
+The jest, and its unexpectedness, struck sudden laughter from Eve.
+Hilliard joined in her mirth.
+
+After that she suggested, "Hadn't we better go?"
+
+"Yes. Let us walk quietly on. The streets are pleasant after
+sunset."
+
+On rising, after he had paid the bill, Hilliard chanced to see
+himself in a mirror. He had flushed cheeks, and his hair was
+somewhat disorderly. In contrast with Eve's colourless composure,
+his appearance was decidedly bacchanalian; but the thought merely
+amused him.
+
+They crossed Holborn, and took their way up Southampton Row, neither
+speaking until they were within sight of Russell Square.
+
+"I like this part of London," said Hilliard at length, pointing
+before him. "I often walk about the squares late at night. It's
+quiet, and the trees make the air taste fresh."
+
+"I did the same, sometimes, when I lived in Gower Place."
+
+"Doesn't it strike you that we are rather like each other in some
+things?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" Eve replied frankly. "I have noticed that."
+
+"You have? Even in the lives we have led there's a sort of
+resemblance, isn't there?"
+
+"Yes, I see now that there is."
+
+In Russell Square they turned from the pavement, and walked along
+the edge of the enclosure.
+
+"I wish Patty had been with us," said Eve all at once. "She would
+have enjoyed it so thoroughly."
+
+"To be sure she would. Well, we can dine again, and have Patty with
+us. But, after all, dining in London can't be quite what it is in
+Paris. I wish you hadn't gone back to work again. Do you know what I
+should have proposed?"
+
+She glanced inquiringly at him.
+
+"Why shouldn't we all have gone to Paris for a holiday? You and
+Patty could have lived together, and I should have seen you every
+day."
+
+Eve laughed.
+
+"Why not? Patty and I have both so much more money than we know what
+to do with," she answered.
+
+"Money? Oh, what of that! I have money."
+
+She laughed again.
+
+Hilliard was startled.
+
+"You are talking rather wildly. Leaving myself out of the question,
+what would Mr. Dally say to such a proposal?"
+
+"Who's Mr. Dally?"
+
+"Don't you know? Hasn't Patty told you that she is engaged?"
+
+"Ah! No; she hasn't spoken of it. But I think I must have seen him
+at the music-shop one day. Is she likely to marry him?"
+
+"It isn't the wisest thing she could do, but that may be the end of
+it. He's in an auctioneer's office, and may have a pretty good
+income some day."
+
+A long silence followed. They passed out of Russell into Woburn
+Square. Night was now darkening the latest tints of the sky, and the
+lamps shone golden against dusty green. At one of the houses in the
+narrow square festivities were toward; carriages drew up before the
+entrance, from which a red carpet was laid down across the pavement;
+within sounded music.
+
+"Does this kind of thing excite any ambition in you?" Hilliard
+asked, coming to a pause a few yards away from the carriage which
+was discharging its occupants.
+
+"Yes, I suppose it does. At all events, it makes me feel
+discontented."
+
+"I have settled all that with myself. I am content to look on as if
+it were a play. Those people have an idea of life quite different
+from mine. I shouldn't enjoy myself among them. You, perhaps,
+would."
+
+"I might," Eve replied absently. And she turned away to the other
+side of the square.
+
+"By-the-bye, you _have_ a friend in Paris. Do you ever hear from
+her?"
+
+"She wrote once or twice after she went back; but it has come to an
+end."
+
+"Still, you might find her again, if you were there."
+
+Eve delayed her reply a little, then spoke impatiently.
+
+"What is the use of setting my thoughts upon such things? Day after
+day I try to forget what I most wish for. Talk about yourself, and I
+will listen with pleasure; but never talk about me."
+
+"It's very hard to lay that rule upon me. I want to hear you speak
+of yourself. As yet, I hardly know you, and I never shall unless you
+----"
+
+"Why should you know me?" she interrupted, in a voice of irritation.
+
+"Only because I wish it more than anything else, I have wished it
+from the day when I first saw your portrait."
+
+"Oh! that wretched portrait! I should be sorry if I thought it was
+at all like me."
+
+"It is both like and unlike," said Hilliard. "What I see of it in
+your face is the part of you that most pleases me."
+
+"And that isn't my real self at all."
+
+"Perhaps not. And yet, perhaps, you are mistaken. That is what I
+want to learn. From the portrait, I formed an idea of you. When I
+met you, it seemed to me that I was hopelessly astray; yet now I
+don't feel sure of it."
+
+"You would like to know what has changed me from the kind of girl I
+was at Dudley?"
+
+"_Are_ you changed?"
+
+"In some ways, no doubt. You, at all events, seem to think so."
+
+"I can wait. You will tell me all about it some day."
+
+"You mustn't take that for granted. We have made friends in a sort
+of way just because we happened to come from the same place, and
+know the same people. But----"
+
+He waited.
+
+"Well, I was going to say that there's no use in our thinking much
+about each other."
+
+"I don't ask you to think of me. But I shall think a great deal
+about you for long enough to come."
+
+"That's what I want to prevent."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because, in the end, it might be troublesome to me."
+
+Hilliard kept silence awhile, then laughed. When he spoke again, it
+was of things indifferent natures.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+Laziest of men and worst of correspondents, Robert Narramore had as
+yet sent no reply to the letters in which Hilliard acquainted him
+with his adventures in London and abroad; but at the end of July he
+vouchsafed a perfunctory scrawl. "Too bad not to write before, but
+I've been floored every evening after business in this furious heat.
+You may like to hear that my uncle's property didn't make a bad
+show. I have come in for a round five thousand, and am putting it
+into brass bedsteads. Sha'n't be able to get away until the end of
+August. May see you then." Hilliard mused enviously on the brass
+bedstead business.
+
+On looking in at the Camden Town music-shop about this time he found
+Patty Ringrose flurried and vexed by an event which disturbed her
+prospects. Her uncle the shopkeeper, a widower of about fifty, had
+announced his intention of marrying again, and, worse still, of
+giving up his business.
+
+"It's the landlady of the public-house where he goes to play
+billiards," said Patty with scornful mirth; "a great fat woman! Oh!
+And he's going to turn publican. And my aunt and me will have to
+look out for ourselves."
+
+This aunt was the shopkeeper's maiden sister who had hitherto kept
+house for him. "She had been promised an allowance," said Patty,
+"but a very mean one."
+
+"I don't care much for myself," the girl went on; "there's plenty of
+shops where I can get an engagement, but of course it won't be the
+same as here, which has been home for me ever since I was a child.
+There! the things that men will do! I've told him plain to his face
+that he ought to be ashamed of himself, and so has aunt. And he _is_
+ashamed, what's more. Don't you call it disgusting, such a marriage
+as that?"
+
+Hilliard avoided the delicate question.
+
+"I shouldn't wonder if it hastens another marriage," he said with a
+smile.
+
+"I know what you mean, but the chances are that marriage won't come
+off at all. I'm getting tired of men; they're so selfish and
+unreasonable. Of course I don't mean you, Mr. Hilliard, but--oh!
+you know what I mean."
+
+"Mr. Dally has fallen under your displeasure?"
+
+"Please don't talk about him. If he thinks he's going to lay down
+the law to me he'll find his mistake; and it's better he should find
+it out before it's too late."
+
+They were interrupted by the entrance of Patty's amorous uncle, who
+returned from his billiards earlier than usual to-day. He scowled at
+the stranger, but passed into the house without speaking. Hilliard
+spoke a hurried word or two about Eve and went his way.
+
+Something less than a week after this he chanced to be away from
+home throughout the whole day, and on returning he was surprised to
+see a telegram upon his table. It came from Patty Ringrose, and
+asked him to call at the shop without fail between one and two that
+day. The hour was now nearly ten; the despatch had arrived at eleven
+in the morning.
+
+Without a minute's delay he ran out in search of a cab, and was
+driven to High Street. Here, of course, he found the shop closed,
+but it was much too early for the household to have retired to rest;
+risking an indiscretion, he was about to ring the house bell when
+the door opened, and Patty showed herself.
+
+"Oh, is it _you_, Mr. Hilliard!" she exclaimed, in a flurried voice.
+"I heard the cab stop, and I thought it might be----You'd better
+come in--quick!"
+
+He followed her along the passage and into the shop, where one
+gas-jet was burning low.
+
+"Listen!" she resumed, whispering hurriedly. "If Eve comes--she'll
+let herself in with the latchkey--you must stand quiet here. I
+shall turn out the gas, and I'll let you out after she's gone
+upstairs? Couldn't you come before?"
+
+Hilliard explained, and begged her to tell him what was the matter.
+But Patty kept him in suspense.
+
+"Uncle won't be in till after twelve, so there's no fear. Aunt has
+gone to bed--she's upset with quarrelling about this marriage.
+Mind! You won't stir if Eve comes in. Don't talk loud; I must keep
+listening for the door."
+
+"But what is it? Where is Eve?"
+
+"I don't know. She didn't come home till very late last night, and I
+don't know where she was. You remember what you asked me to
+promise?"
+
+"To let me know if you were anxious about her."
+
+"Yes, and I am. She's in danger I only hope----"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I don't like to tell you all I know. It doesn't seem right. But I'm
+so afraid for Eve."
+
+"I can only imagine one kind of danger----"
+
+"Yes--of course, it's that--you know what I mean. But there's
+more than you could fancy."
+
+"Tell me, then, what has alarmed you?"
+
+"When did you see her last?" Patty inquired.
+
+"More than a week ago. Two or three days before I came here."
+
+"Had you noticed anything?"
+
+"Nothing unusual."
+
+"No more did I, till last Monday night. Then I saw that something
+was wrong. Hush!"
+
+She gripped his arm, and they listened. But no sound could be heard.
+
+"And since then," Patty pursued, with tremulous eagerness, "she's
+been very queer. I know she doesn't sleep at night, and she's
+getting ill, and she's had letters from--someone she oughtn't to
+have anything to do with."
+
+"Having told so much, you had better tell me all," said Hilliard
+impatiently. There was a cold sweat on his forehead, and his heart
+beat painfully.
+
+"No. I can't. I can only give you a warning."
+
+"But what's the use of that? What can I do? How can I interfere?"
+
+"I don't know," replied the girl, with a help. less sigh. "She's in
+danger, that's all I call tell you."
+
+"Patty, don't be a fool! Out with it! Who is the man? Is it some one
+you know?"
+
+"I don't exactly know him I've seen him."
+
+"Is he--a sort of gentleman?"
+
+"Oh, yes, he's a gentleman. And you'd never think to look at him
+that he could do anything that wasn't right."
+
+"Very well. What reason have you for supposing that he's doing
+wrong?"
+
+Patty kept silence. A band of rowdy fellows just then came shouting
+along the street, and one of them crashed up against the shop door,
+making Patty jump and scream. Oaths and foul language followed; and
+then the uproar passed away.
+
+"Look here," said Hilliard. "You'll drive me out of my senses. Eve
+is in love with this man, is she?"
+
+"I'm afraid so. She was."
+
+"Before she went away, you mean. And, of course, her going away had
+something to do with it?"
+
+"Yes, it had."
+
+Hilliard laid his hands on the girl's shoulders.
+
+"You've got to tell me the plain truth, and be quick about it. I
+suppose you haven't any idea of the torments I'm suffering. I shall
+begin to think you're making a fool of me, and that there's nothing
+but--though that's bad enough for me."
+
+"Very well, I'll tell you. She went away because it came out that
+the man was married."
+
+"Oh, that's it?" He spoke from a dry throat. "She told you
+herself?"
+
+"Yes, not long after she came back. She said, of course, she could
+have no more to do with him. She used to meet him pretty often----"
+
+"Stay, how did she get to know him first?"
+
+"Just by chance--somewhere."
+
+"I understand," said Hilliard grimly. "Go on."
+
+"And his wife got someone to spy on him, and they found out he was
+meeting Eve, and she jumped out on them when they were walking
+somewhere together, and told Eve everything. He wasn't living with
+his wife, and hasn't been for a long time."
+
+"What's his position?"
+
+"He's in business, and seems to have lots of money; but I don't
+exactly know what it is he does."
+
+"You are afraid, then, that Eve is being drawn back to him?"
+
+"I feel sure she is--and it's dreadful."
+
+"What I should like to know," said Hilliard, harshly, "is whether
+she really cares for him, or only for his money."
+
+"Oh! How horrid you are! I never thought you could say such a
+thing!"
+
+"Perhaps you didn't. All the same, it's a question. I don't pretend
+to understand Eve Madeley, and I'm afraid you are just as far from
+knowing her."
+
+"I don't know her? Why, what are you talking about, Mr. Hilliard?"
+
+"What do you think of her, then? Is she a good-hearted girl or----"
+
+"Or what? Of course she's good-hearted. The things that men do say!
+They seem to be all alike."
+
+"Women are so far from being all alike that one may think she
+understands another, and be utterly deceived. Eve has shown her best
+side to you, no doubt. With me, she hasn't taken any trouble to do
+so. And if----"
+
+"Hush!"
+
+This time the alarm was justified. A latchkey rattled at the
+house-door, the door opened, and in the same moment Patty turned out
+the light.
+
+"It's my uncle," she whispered, terror-stricken. "Don't stir."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+A heavy footstep sounded in the passage, and Hilliard, to whose
+emotions was now added a sense of ludicrous indignity, heard talk
+between Patty and her uncle.
+
+"You mustn't lock up yet," said the girl, "Eve is out."
+
+"What's she doing?"
+
+"I don't know. At the theatre with friends, I dare say."
+
+"If we'd been staying on here, that young woman would have had to
+look out for another lodging. There's something I don't like about
+her, and if you take my advice, Patty, you'll shake her off. She'll
+do you no good, my girl."
+
+They passed together into the room behind the shop, and though their
+voices were still audible, Hilliard could no longer follow the
+conversation. He stood motionless, just where Patty had left him,
+with a hand resting on the top of the piano, and it seemed to him
+that at least half an hour went by. Then a sound close by made him
+start; it was the snapping of a violin string; the note reverberated
+through the silent shop. But by this time the murmur of conversation
+had ceased, and Hilliard hoped that Patty's uncle had gone upstairs
+to bed.
+
+As proved to be the case. Presently the door opened, and a voice
+called to him in a whisper. He obeyed the summons, and, not without
+stumbling, followed Patty into the open air.
+
+"She hasn't come yet."
+
+"What's the time?"
+
+"Half-past eleven. I shall sit up for her. Did you hear what my
+uncle said? You mustn't think anything of that; he's always finding
+fault with people."
+
+"Do you think she will come at all?" asked Hilliard.
+
+"Oh, of course she will!"
+
+"I shall wait about. Don't stand here. Good-night."
+
+"You won't let her know what I've told you?" said Patty, retaining
+his hand.
+
+"No, I won't. If she doesn't come back at all, I'll see you
+to-morrow."
+
+He moved away, and the door closed.
+
+Many people were still passing along the street. In his uncertainty
+as to the direction by which Eve would return--if return she did
+--Hilliard ventured only a few yards away. He had waited for about
+a quarter of an hour, when his eye distinguished a well-known figure
+quickly approaching. He hurried forward, and Eve stopped before he
+had quite come up to her.
+
+"Where have you been to-night?" were his first words, sounding more
+roughly than he in tended.
+
+"I wanted to see you, I passed your lodgings and saw there was no
+light in the windows, else I should have asked for you."
+
+She spoke in so strange a voice, with such show of agitation, that
+Hilliard stood gazing at her till she again broke silence,
+
+"Have you been waiting here for me?"
+
+"Yes. Patty told me you weren't back."
+
+"Why did you come?"
+
+"Why do I ever come to meet you?"
+
+"We can't talk here," said Eve, turning away. "Come into a quieter
+place."
+
+They walked in silence to the foot of High Street, and there turned
+aside into the shadowed solitude of Mornington Crescent. Eve checked
+her steps and said abruptly--
+
+"I want to ask you for something."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Now that it comes to saying it, I--I'm afraid. And yet if I had
+asked you that evening when we were at the restaurant----"
+
+"What is it?" Hilliard repeated gruffly.
+
+"That isn't your usual way of speaking to me."
+
+"Will you tell me where you have been tonight?"
+
+"Nowhere--walking about----"
+
+"Do you often walk about the streets till midnight?"
+
+"Indeed I don't."
+
+The reply surprised him by its humility. Her voice all but broke on
+the words. As well as the dim light would allow, he searched her
+face, and it seemed to him that her eyes had a redness, as if from
+shedding tears.
+
+"You haven't been alone?"
+
+"No--I've been with a friend."
+
+"Well, I have no claim upon you. It's nothing to me what friends you
+go about with. What were you going to ask of me?"
+
+"You have changed so all at once. I thought you would never talk in
+this way."
+
+"I didn't mean to," said Hilliard. "I have lost control of myself,
+that's all. But you can say whatever you meant to say--just as you
+would have done at the restaurant. I'm the same man I was then."
+
+Eve moved a few steps, but he did not follow her, and she returned.
+A policeman passing threw a glance at them.
+
+"It's no use asking what I meant to ask," she said, with her eyes on
+the ground. "You won't grant it me."
+
+"How can I say till I know what it is? There are not many things in
+my power that I wouldn't do for you."
+
+"I was going to ask for money."
+
+"Money? Why, it depends what you are going to do with it. If it will
+do you any good, all the money I have is yours, as you know well
+enough. But I must understand why you want it."
+
+"I can't tell you that. I don't want you to give me money--only to
+lend it. You shall have it back again, though I can't promise the
+exact time. If you hadn't changed so, I should have found it easy
+enough to ask. Hut I don't know you to-night; it's like talking to a
+stranger. What has happened to make you so different?"
+
+"I have been waiting a long time for you, that's all," Hilliard
+replied, endeavouring to use the tone of frank friendliness in which
+he had been wont to address her. "I got nervous and irritable. I
+felt uneasy about you. It's all right now: Let us walk on a little.
+You want money. Well, I have three hundred pounds and more. Call it
+mine, call it yours. But I must know that you're not going to do
+anything foolish. Of course, you don't tell me everything; I have no
+right to expect it. You haven't misled me; I knew from the first
+that--well, a girl of your age, and with your face, doesn't live
+alone in London without adventures. I shouldn't think of telling you
+all mine, and I don't ask to know yours--unless I begin to have a
+part in them. There's something wrong: of course, I can see that. I
+think you've been crying, and you don't shed tears for a trifle. Now
+you come and ask me for money. If it will do you good, take all you
+want. But I've an uncomfortable suspicion that harm may come of it."
+
+"Why not treat me just like a man-friend? I'm old enough to take
+care of myself."
+
+"You think so, but I know better. Wait a moment. How much money do
+you want?"
+
+"Thirty-five pounds."
+
+"Exactly thirty-five? And it isn't for your own use?"
+
+"I can't tell you any more. I am in very great need of the money,
+and if you will lend it me I shall feel very grateful."
+
+"I want no gratitude, I want nothing from you, Eve, except what you
+can't give me. I can imagine a man in my position giving you money
+in the hope that it might be your ruin just to see you brought down,
+humiliated. There's so much of the brute in us all. But I don't feel
+that desire."
+
+"Why should you?" she asked, with a change to coldness. "What harm
+have I done you?"
+
+"No harm at all, and perhaps a great deal of good. I say that I wish
+you nothing but well. Suppose a gift of all the money I have would
+smooth your whole life before you, and make you the happy wife of
+some other man. I would give it you gladly. That kind of thing has
+often been said, when it meant nothing: it isn't so with me. It has
+always been more pleasure to me to give than to receive. No merit of
+mine; I have it from my father. Make clear to me that you are to
+benefit by this money, and you shall have the cheque as soon as you
+please."
+
+"I shall benefit by it, because it will relieve me from a dreadful
+anxiety."
+
+"Or, in other words, will relieve someone else?"
+
+"I can speak only of myself. The kindness will be done to me."
+
+"I must know more than that. Come now, we assume that there's
+someone in the background. A friend of yours, let us say. I can't
+Imagine why this friend of yours wants money, but so it is. You
+don't contradict me?"
+
+Eve remained mute, her head bent.
+
+"What about your friend and you in the future? Are you bound to this
+friend in any irredeemable way?"
+
+"No--I am not," she answered, with emotion.
+
+"There's nothing between you but--let us call it mere friendship."
+
+"Nothing--nothing!"
+
+"So far, so good." He looked keenly into her face. "But how about
+the future?"
+
+"There will never be anything more--there can't be."
+
+"Let us say that you think so at present. Perhaps I don't feel quite
+so sure of it. I say again, it's nothing to me, unless I get drawn
+into it by you yourself. I am not your guardian. If I tell you to be
+careful, it's an impertinence. But the money; that's another affair.
+I won't help you to misery."
+
+"You will be helping me _out_ of misery!" Eve exclaimed.
+
+"Yes, for the present. I will make a bargain with you."
+
+She looked at him with startled eyes.
+
+"You shall have your thirty-five pounds on condition that you go to
+live, for as long as I choose, in Paris. You are to leave London in
+a day or two. Patty shall go with you; her uncle doesn't want her,
+and she seems to have quarrelled with the man she was engaged to.
+The expenses are my affair. I shall go to Paris myself, and be there
+while you are, but you need see no more of me than you like. Those
+are the terms."
+
+"I can't think you are serious," said Eve.
+
+"Then I'll explain why I wish you to do this. I've thought about you
+a great deal; in fact, since we first met, my chief occupation has
+been thinking about you. And I have come to the conclusion that you
+are suffering from an illness, the result of years of hardship and
+misery. We have agreed, you remember, that there are a good many
+points of resemblance between your life and mine, and perhaps
+between your character and mine. Now I myself, when I escaped from
+Dudley, was thoroughly ill--body and soul. The only hope for me
+was a complete change of circumstances--to throw off the weight of
+my past life, and learn the meaning of repose, satisfaction,
+enjoyment. I prescribe the same for you. I am your physician; I
+undertake your cure. If you refuse to let me, there's an end of
+everything between us; I shall say good-bye to you tonight, and
+to-morrow set off for some foreign country."
+
+"How can I leave my work at a moment's notice?"
+
+"The devil take your work--for he alone is the originator of such
+accursed toil!"
+
+"How can I live at your expense?"
+
+"That's a paltry obstacle. Oh, if you are too proud, say so, and
+there's an end of it. You know me well enough to feel the absolute
+truth of what I say, when I assure you that you will remain just as
+independent of me as you ever were. I shall be spending my money in
+a way that gives me pleasure; the matter will never appear to me in
+any other light. Why, call it an additional loan, if it will give
+any satisfaction to you. You are to pay me back some time. Here in
+London you perish; across the Channel there, health of body and mind
+is awaiting you; and are we to talk about money? I shall begin to
+swear like a trooper; the thing is too preposterous."
+
+Eve said nothing: she stood half turned from him.
+
+"Of course," he pursued, "you may object to leave London. Perhaps
+the sacrifice is too great. In that case, I should only do right if
+I carried you off by main force; but I'm afraid it can't be; I must
+leave you to perish."
+
+"I am quite willing to go away," said Eve in a low voice. "But the
+shame of it--to be supported by you."
+
+"Why, you don't hate me?"
+
+"You know I do not."
+
+"You even have a certain liking for me. I amuse you; you think me an
+odd sort of fellow, perhaps with more good than bad in me. At all
+events, you can trust me?"
+
+"I can trust you perfectly."
+
+"And it ain't as if I wished you to go alone. Patty will be off her
+head with delight when the thing is proposed to her."
+
+"But how can I explain to her?"
+
+"Don't attempt to. Leave her curiosity a good hard nut to crack.
+Simply say you are off to Paris, and that if she'll go with you, you
+will bear all her expenses."
+
+"It's so difficult to believe that you are in earnest."
+
+"You must somehow bring yourself to believe it. There will be a
+cheque ready for you to-morrow morning, to take or refuse. If you
+take it, you are bound in honour to leave England not later than--
+we'll say Thursday. That you are to be trusted, I believe, just as
+firmly as you believe it of me."
+
+"I can't decide to-night."
+
+"I can give you only till to-morrow morning. If I don't hear from
+you by midday, I am gone."
+
+"You shall hear from me--one way or the other."
+
+"Then don't wait here any longer. It's after midnight, and Patty
+will be alarmed about you. No, we won't shake hands; not that till
+we strike a bargain."
+
+Eve seemed about to walk away, but she hesitated and turned again.
+
+"I will do as you wish--I will go."
+
+"Excellent! Then speak of it to Patty as soon as possible, and tell
+me what she says when we meet to-morrow--where and when you like."
+
+"In this same place, at nine o'clock."
+
+"So be it. I will bring the cheque."
+
+"But I must be able to cash it at once."
+
+"So you can. It will be on a London bank. I'll get the cash myself
+if you like."
+
+Then they shook hands and went in opposite directions.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+On the evening of the next day, just after he had lit his lamp,
+Hilliard's attention was drawn by a sound as of someone tapping at
+the window. He stood to listen, and the sound was repeated--an
+unmistakable tap of fingers on the glass. In a moment he was out in
+the street, where he discovered Patty Ringrose.
+
+"Why didn't you come to see me?" she asked excitedly.
+
+"I was afraid _she_ might be there. Did she go to business, as
+usual?"
+
+"Yes. At least I suppose so. She only got home at the usual time.
+I've left her there: I was bound to see you. Do you know what she
+told me last night when she came in?"
+
+"I dare say I could guess."
+
+Hilliard began to walk down the street. Patty, keeping close at his
+side, regarded him with glances of wonder.
+
+"Is it true that we're going to Paris? I couldn't make out whether
+she meant it, and this morning I couldn't get a word from her."
+
+"Are you willing to go with her?"
+
+"And have all my expenses paid?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"I should think I am! But I daren't let my uncle and aunt know;
+there'd be no end of bother. I shall have to make up some sort of
+tale to satisfy my aunt, and get my things sent to the station while
+uncle's playing billiards. How long is it for?"
+
+"Impossible to say. Three months--half a year--I don't know.
+What about Mr. Daily?"
+
+"Oh, I've done with _him_!"
+
+"And you are perfectly sure that you can get employment whenever you
+need it?"
+
+"Quite sure: no need to trouble about that. I'm very good friends
+with aunt, and she'll take me in for as long as I want when I come
+back. But it's easy enough for anybody like me to get a place. I've
+had two or three offers the last half-year, from good shops where
+they were losing their young ladies. We're always getting married,
+in our business, and places have to be filled up."
+
+"That settles it, then."
+
+"But I want to know--I can't make it out--Eve won't tell me how
+she's managing to go. Are _you_ going to pay for her?"
+
+"We won't talk of that, Patty. She's going; that's enough."
+
+"You persuaded her, last night?"
+
+"Yes, I persuaded her. And I am to hear by the first post in the
+morning whether she will go to-morrow or Thursday. She'll arrange
+things with you to-night, I should think."
+
+"It didn't look like it. She's shut herself in her room."
+
+"I can understand that. She is ill. That's why I'm getting her away
+from London. Wait till we've been in Paris a few weeks, and you'll
+see how she changes. At present she is downright ill--ill enough
+to go to bed and be nursed, if that would do any good. It's your
+part to look after her. I don't want you to be her servant."
+
+"Oh, I don't mind doing anything for her."
+
+"No, because you are a very good sort of girl. You 'Ii live at a
+hotel, and what you have to do is to make her enjoy herself. I
+shouldn't wonder if you find it difficult at first, but we shall get
+her round before long."
+
+"I never thought there was anything the' matter with her."
+
+"Perhaps not, but I understand her better. Of course you won't say a
+word of this to her. You take it as a holiday--as good fun. No
+doubt I shall be able to have a few words in private with you now
+and then. But at other times we must talk as if nothing special had
+passed between us."
+
+Patty mused. The lightness of her step told in what a spirit of
+gaiety she looked forward to the expedition.
+
+"Do you think," she asked presently, "that it'll all come to an end
+--what I told you of?"
+
+"Yes, I think so."
+
+"You didn't let her know that I'd been talking----"
+
+"Of course not. And, as I don't want her to know that you've seen me
+to-night, you had better stay no longer. She's sure to have
+something to tell you to-night or to-morrow morning. Get your
+packing done, and be ready at any moment. When I hear from Eve in
+the morning, I shall send her a telegram. Most likely we sha'n't see
+each other again until we meet at Charing Cross. I hope it may be
+tomorrow; but Thursday is the latest."
+
+So Patty took her departure, tripping briskly homeward. As for
+Hilliard, he returned to his sitting-room, and was busy for some
+time with the pencilling of computations in English and French
+money. Towards midnight, he walked as far as High Street, and looked
+at the windows above the music-shop. All was dark.
+
+He rose very early next morning, and as post-time drew near he
+walked about the street in agonies of suspense. He watched the
+letter-carrier from house to house, followed him up, and saw him
+pass the number at which he felt assured that he would deliver a
+letter. In frenzy of disappointment a fierce oath burst from his
+lips.
+
+"That's what comes of trusting a woman!--she is going to cheat me.
+She has gained her end, and will put me off with excuses."
+
+But perhaps a telegram would come. He made a pretence of
+breakfasting, and paced his room for an hour like a caged animal.
+When the monotony of circulating movement had all but stupefied him,
+he was awakened by a double postman's knock at the front door, the
+signal that announces a telegram.
+
+Again from Patty, and again a request that he would come to the shop
+at mid-day.
+
+"Just as I foresaw--excuses--postponement. What woman ever had
+the sense of honour!"
+
+To get through the morning he drank--an occupation suggested by
+the heat of the day, which blazed cloudless. The liquor did not
+cheer him, but inspired a sullen courage, a reckless resolve. And in
+this frame of mind he presented himself before Patty Ringrose.
+
+"She can't go to-day," said Patty, with an air of concern. "You were
+quite right--she is really ill."
+
+"Has she gone out?"
+
+"No, she's upstairs, lying on the bed. She says she has a dreadful
+headache, and if you saw her you'd believe it. She looks shocking.
+It's the second night she hasn't closed her eyes."
+
+A savage jealousy was burning Hilliard's vitals. He had tried to
+make light of the connection between Eve and that unknown man, even
+after her extraordinary request for money, which all but confessedly
+she wanted on his account. He had blurred the significance of such a
+situation, persuading himself that neither was Eve capable of a
+great passion, nor the man he had seen able to inspire one. Now he
+rushed to the conviction that Eve had fooled him with a falsehood.
+
+"Tell her this." He glared at Patty with eyes which made the girl
+shrink in alarm. "If she isn't at Charing Cross Station by a quarter
+to eleven to-morrow, there's an end of it. I shall be there, and
+shall go on without her. It's her only chance."
+
+"But if she really _can't_----"
+
+"Then it's her misfortune--she must suffer for it. She goes
+to-morrow or not at all. Can you make her understand that?"
+
+"I'll tell her."
+
+"Listen, Patty. If you bring her safe to the station to-morrow you
+shall have a ten-pound note, to buy what you like in Paris."
+
+The girl reddened, half in delight, half in shame.
+
+"I don't want it--she shall come----"
+
+"Very well; good-bye till to-morrow, or for good."
+
+"No, no; she shall come."
+
+He was drenched in perspiration, yet walked for a mile or two at his
+topmost speed. Then a consuming thirst drove him into the nearest
+place where drink was sold. At six o'clock he remembered that he had
+not eaten since breakfast; he dined extravagantly, and afterwards
+fell asleep in the smoking-room of the restaurant. A waiter with
+difficulty aroused him, and persuaded him to try the effect of the
+evening air. An hour later he sank in exhaustion on one of the
+benches near the river, and there slept profoundly until stirred by
+a policeman.
+
+"What's the time?" was his inquiry, as he looked up at the starry
+sky.
+
+He felt for his watch, but no watch was discoverable. Together with
+the gold chain it had disappeared.
+
+"Damnation! someone has robbed me."
+
+The policeman was sympathetic, but reproachful.
+
+"Why do you go to sleep on the Embankment at this time of night?
+Lost any money?"
+
+Yes, his money too had flown; luckily, only a small sum. It was for
+the loss of his watch and chain that he grieved; they had been worn
+for years by his father, and on that account had a far higher value
+for him than was represented by their mere cost.
+
+As a matter of form, he supplied the police with information
+concerning the theft. Of recovery there could be little hope.
+
+Thoroughly awakened and sober, he walked across London to Gower
+Place arriving in the light of dawn. Too spiritless to take off his
+clothing, he lay upon the bed, and through the open window watched a
+great cloud that grew rosy above the opposite houses.
+
+Would Eve be at the place of meeting today? It seemed to him totally
+indifferent whether she came or not; nay, he all but hoped that she
+would not. He had been guilty of prodigious folly. The girl belonged
+to another man; and even had it not been so, what was the use of
+flinging away his money at this rate? Did he look for any reward
+correspondent to the sacrifice? She would never love him, and it was
+not in his power to complete the work he had begun, by freeing her
+completely from harsh circumstances, setting her in a path of secure
+and pleasant life.
+
+But she would not come, and so much the better. With only himself to
+provide for he had still money enough to travel far. He would see
+something of the great world, and leave his future to destiny.
+
+He dozed for an hour or two.
+
+Whilst he was at breakfast a letter arrived for him. He did not know
+the handwriting on the envelope, but it must be Eve's. Yes. She
+wrote a couple of lines: "I will be at the station to-morrow at a
+quarter to eleven.--E. M."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+One travelling bag was all he carried. Some purchases that he had
+made in London--especially the great work on French cathedrals--
+were already despatched to Birmingham, to lie in the care of Robert
+Narramore.
+
+He reached Charing Cross half an hour before train-time, and waited
+at the entrance. Several cabs that drove up stirred his expectation
+only to disappoint him. He was again in an anguish of fear lest Eve
+should not come. A cab arrived, with two boxes of modest appearance.
+He stepped forward and saw the girls' faces.
+
+Between him and Eve not a word passed. They avoided each other's
+look. Patty, excited and confused, shook hands with him.
+
+"Go on to the platform," he said. "I'll see after everything. This
+is all the luggage?"
+
+"Yes. One box is mine, and one Eve's. I had to face it out with the
+people at home," she added, between laughing and crying. "They think
+I'm going to the seaside, to stay with Eve till she gets better. I
+never told so many fibs in my life. Uncle stormed at me, but I don't
+care."
+
+"All right; go on to the platform."
+
+Eve was already walking in that direction. Undeniably she looked
+ill; her step was languid; she did not raise her eyes. Hilliard,
+when he had taken tickets and booked the luggage through to Paris,
+approached his travelling companions. Seeing him, Eve turned away.
+
+"I shall go in a smoking compartment," he said to Patty. "You had
+better take your tickets."
+
+"But when shall we see you again?"
+
+"Oh, at Dover, of course."
+
+"Will it be rough, do you think? I do wish Eve would talk. I can't
+get a word out of her. It makes it all so miserable, when we might
+be enjoying ourselves."
+
+"Don't trouble: leave her to herself. I'll get you some papers."
+
+On returning from the bookstall, he slipped loose silver into
+Patty's hands.
+
+"Use that if you want anything on the journey. And--I haven't
+forgot my promise."
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"Go and take your places now: there's only ten minutes to wait."
+
+He watched them as they passed the harrier. Neither of the girls was
+dressed very suitably for travelling; but Eve's costume resembled
+that of a lady, while Patty's might suggest that she was a
+lady's-maid. As if to confirm this distinction, Patty had burdened
+herself with several small articles, whereas her friend carried only
+a sunshade. They disappeared among people upon the platform. In a
+few minutes Hilliard followed, glanced along the carriages till he
+saw where the girls were seated, and took his own place. He wore a
+suit which had been new on his first arrival in London, good enough
+in quality and cut to give his features the full value of their
+intelligence; a brown felt hat, a russet necktie, a white flannel
+shirt. Finding himself with a talkative neighbour in the carriage,
+he chatted freely. As soon as the train had started, he lit his pipe
+and tasted the tobacco with more relish than for a long time.
+
+On board the steamer Eve kept below from first to last. Patty walked
+the deck with Hilliard, and vastly to her astonishment, achieved the
+voyage without serious discomfort. Hilliard himself, with the sea
+wind in his nostrils, recovered that temper of buoyant satisfaction
+which had accompanied his first escape from London. He despised the
+weak misgivings and sordid calculations of yesterday. Here he was,
+on a Channel steamer, bearing away from disgrace and wretchedness
+the woman whom his heart desired. Wild as the project had seemed to
+him when first he conceived it, he had put it into execution. The
+moment was worth living for. Whatever the future might keep in store
+for him of dreary, toilsome, colourless existence, the retrospect
+would always show him this patch of purple--a memory precious
+beyond all the possible results of prudence and narrow self-regard.
+
+The little she-Cockney by his side entertained him with the flow of
+her chatter; it had the advantage of making him feel a travelled
+man.
+
+"I didn't cross this way when I came before," he explained to her.
+"From Newhaven it's a much longer voyage."
+
+"You like the sea, then?"
+
+"I chose it because it was cheaper--that's all."
+
+"Yet you're so extravagant now," remarked Patty, with eyes that
+confessed admiration of this quality.
+
+"Oh, because I am rich," he answered gaily. "Money is nothing to
+me."
+
+"Are you really rich? Eve said you weren't."
+
+"Did she?"
+
+"I don't mean she said it in a disagreeable way. It was last night.
+She thought you were wasting your money upon us."
+
+"If I choose to waste it, why not? Isn't there a pleasure in doing
+as you like?"
+
+"Oh, of course there is," Patty assented. "I only wish I had the
+chance. But it's awfully jolly, this! Who'd have thought, a week
+ago, that I should be going to Paris? I have a feeling all the time
+that I shall wake up and find I've been dreaming."
+
+"Suppose you go down and see whether Eve wants anything? You needn't
+say I sent you."
+
+From Calais to Paris he again travelled apart from the girls.
+Fatigue overcame him, and for the last hour or two he slept, with
+the result that, on alighting at the Gare du Nord, he experienced a
+decided failure of spirits. Happily, there was nothing before him
+but to carry out a plan already elaborated. With the aid of his
+guide-book he had selected an hotel which seemed suitable for the
+girls, one where English was spoken, and thither he drove with them
+from the station. The choice of their rooms, and the settlement of
+details took only a few minutes; then, for almost the first time
+since leaving Charing Cross, he spoke to Eve.
+
+"Patty will do everything she can for you," he said; "I shall be not
+very far away, and you can always send me a message if you wish.
+To-morrow morning I shall come at about ten to ask how you are--
+nothing more than that--unless you care to go anywhere."
+
+The only reply was "Thank you," in a weary tone. And so, having
+taken his leave he set forth to discover a considerably less
+expensive lodging for himself. In this, after his earlier
+acquaintance with Paris, he had no difficulty; by half-past eight
+his business was done, and he sat down to dinner at a cheap
+restaurant. A headache spoilt his enjoyment of the meal. After a
+brief ramble about the streets, he went home and got into a bed
+which was rather too short for him, but otherwise promised
+sufficient comfort.
+
+The first thing that came into his mind when he awoke next morning
+was that he no longer possessed a watch; the loss cast a gloom upon
+him. But he had slept well, and a flood of sunshine that streamed
+over his scantily carpeted floor, together with gladly remembered
+sounds from the street, soon put him into an excellent humour. He
+sprang tip, partly dressed himself, and unhasped the window. The
+smell of Paris had become associated in his mind with thoughts of
+liberty; a grotesque dance about the bed-room expressed his joy.
+
+As he anticipated, Patty alone received him when he called upon the
+girls. She reported that Eve felt unable to rise.
+
+"What do you think about her?" he asked. "Nothing serious, is it?"
+
+"She can't get rid of her headache."
+
+"Let her rest as long as she likes. Are you comfortable here?"
+
+Patty was in ecstasies with everything, and chattered on
+breathlessly. She wished to go out; Eve had no need of her--indeed
+had told her that above all she wished to be left alone.
+
+"Get ready, then," said Hilliard, "and we'll have an hour or two."
+
+They walked to the Madeleine and rode thence on the top of a
+tram-car to the Bastille. By this time Patty had come to regard her
+strange companion in a sort of brotherly light; no restraint
+whatever appeared in her conversation with him. Eve, she told him,
+had talked French with the chambermaid.
+
+"And I fancy it was something she didn't want _me_ to understand."
+
+"Why should you think so?"
+
+"Oh, something in the way the girl looked at me."
+
+"No, no; you were mistaken. She only wanted to show that she knew
+some French."
+
+But Hilliard wondered whether Patty could be right. Was it not
+possible that Eve had gratified her vanity by representing her
+friend as a servant--a lady's-maid? Yet why should he attribute
+such a fault to her? It was an odd thing that he constantly regarded
+Eve in the least favourable light, giving weight to all the ill he
+conjectured in her, and minimising those features of her character
+which, at the beginning, he had been prepared to observe with
+sympathy and admiration. For a man in love his reflections followed
+a very unwonted course. And, indeed, he had never regarded his love
+as of very high or pure quality; it was something that possessed him
+and constrained him--by no means a source of elevating emotion.
+
+"Do you like Eve?" he asked abruptly, disregarding some trivial
+question Patty had put to him.
+
+"Like her? Of course I do."
+
+"And _why_ do you like her?"
+
+"Why?--ah--I don't know. Because I do."
+
+And she laughed foolishly.
+
+"Does Eve like _you_?" Hilliard continued.
+
+"I think she does. Else I don't see why she kept up with me."
+
+"Has she ever done you any kindness?"
+
+"I'm sure I don't know. Nothing particular. She never gave anything,
+if you mean that. But she has paid for me at theatres and so on."
+
+Hilliard quitted the subject.
+
+"If you like to go out alone," he told her before they parted,
+"there's no reason why you shouldn't--just as you do in London.
+Remember the way back, that's all, and don't be out late. And you'll
+want some French money."
+
+"But I don't understand it, and how can I buy anything when I can't
+speak a word?"
+
+"All the same, take that and keep it till you are able to make use
+of it. It's what I promised you."
+
+Patty drew back her hand, but her objections were not difficult to
+overcome.
+
+"I dare say," Hilliard continued, "Eve doesn't understand the money
+much better than you do. But she'll soon be well enough to talk, and
+then I shall explain everything to her. On this piece of paper is my
+address; please let Eve have it. I shall call to-morrow morning
+again."
+
+He did so, and this time found Eve, as well as her companion, ready
+to go out. No remark or inquiry concerning her health passed his
+lips; he saw that she was recovering from the crisis she had passed
+through, whatever its real nature. Eve shook hands with him, and
+smiled, though as if discharging an obligation.
+
+"Can you spare time to show us something of Paris?" she asked.
+
+"I am your official guide. Make use of me whenever it pleases you."
+
+"I don't feel able to go very far. Isn't there some place where we
+could sit down in the open air?"
+
+A carriage was summoned, and they drove to the Fields Elysian. Eve
+benefited by the morning thus spent. She left to Patty most of the
+conversation, but occasionally made inquiries, and began to regard
+things with a healthy interest. The next day they all visited the
+Louvre, for a light rain was falling, and here Hilliard found an
+opportunity of private talk with Eve; they sat together whilst
+Patty, who cared little for pictures, looked out of a window at the
+Seine.
+
+"Do you like the hotel I chose?" he began.
+
+"Everything is very nice."
+
+"And you are not sorry to be here?"
+
+"Not in one way. In another I can't understand how I come to be here
+at all."
+
+"Your physician has ordered it."
+
+"Yes--so I suppose it's all right."
+
+"There's one thing I'm obliged to speak of. Do you understand French
+money?"
+
+Eve averted her face, and spoke after a slight delay.
+
+"I can easily learn."
+
+"Yes. You shall take this Paris guide home with you. You'll find all
+information of that sort in it. And I shall give you an envelope
+containing money--just for your private use. You have nothing to
+do with the charges at the hotel."
+
+"I've brought it on myself; but I feel more ashamed than I can tell
+you."
+
+"If you tried to tell me I shouldn't listen. What you have to do now
+is to get well. Very soon you and Patty will be able to find your
+way about together; then I shall only come with you when you choose
+to invite me. You have my address."
+
+He rose and broke off the dialogue.
+
+For a week or more Eve's behaviour in his company underwent little
+change. In health she decidedly improved, but Hilliard always found
+her reserved, coldly amicable, with an occasional suggestion of
+forced humility which he much disliked. From Patty he learnt that
+she went about a good deal and seemed to enjoy herself.
+
+"We don't always go together," said the girl. "Yesterday and the day
+before Eve was away by herself all the afternoon. Of course she can
+get on all right with her French. She takes to Paris as if she'd
+lived here for years."
+
+On the day after, Hilliard received a postcard in which Eve asked
+him to be in a certain room of the Louvre at twelve o'clock. He kept
+the appointment, and found Eve awaiting him alone.
+
+"I wanted to ask whether you would mind if we left the hotel and
+went to live at another place?"
+
+He heard her with surprise.
+
+"You are not comfortable?"
+
+"Quite. But I have been to see my friend Mdlle. Roche--you
+remember. And she has shown me how we can live very comfortably at a
+quarter of what it costs now, in the same house where she has a
+room. I should like to change, if you'll let me."
+
+"Pooh! You're not to think of the cost----"
+
+"Whether I am to or not, I do, and can't help myself. I know the
+hotel is fearfully expensive, and I shall like the other place much
+better. Miss Roche is a very nice girl, and she was glad to see me;
+and if I'm near her, I shall get all sorts of advantages--in
+French, and so on."
+
+Hilliard wondered what accounts of herself Eve had rendered to the
+Parisienne, but he did not venture to ask.
+
+"Will Patty like it as well?"
+
+"Just as well. Miss Roche speaks English, you know, and they'll get
+on very well together."
+
+"Where is the place?"
+
+"Rather far off--towards the Jardin des Plantes. But I don't think
+that would matter, would it?"
+
+"I leave it entirely to you."
+
+"Thank you," she answered, with that intonation he did not like. "Of
+course, if you would like to meet Miss Roche, you can."
+
+"We'll think about it. It's enough that she's an old friend of
+yours."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+When this change had been made Eve seemed to throw off a burden. She
+met Hilliard with something like the ease of manner, the frank
+friendliness, which marked her best moods in their earlier
+intercourse. At a restaurant dinner, to which he persuaded her in
+company with Patty, she was ready in cheerful talk, and an
+expedition to Versailles, some days after, showed her radiant with
+the joy of sunshine and movement. Hilliard could not but wonder at
+the success of his prescription.
+
+He did not visit the girls in their new abode, and nothing more was
+said of his making the acquaintance of Mdlle. Roche. Meetings were
+appointed by post-card--always in Patty's hand if the initiative
+were female; they took place three or four times a week. As it was
+now necessary for Eve to make payments on her own account, Hilliard
+despatched to her by post a remittance in paper money, and of this
+no word passed between them. Three weeks later he again posted the
+same sum. On the morrow they went by river to St. Cloud--it was
+always a trio, Hilliard never making any other proposal--and the
+steam-boat afforded Eve an opportunity of speaking with her generous
+friend apart.
+
+"I don't want this money," she said, giving him an envelope. "What
+you sent before isn't anything like finished. There's enough for a
+month more."
+
+"Keep it all the same. I won't have any pinching."
+
+"There's nothing of the kind. If I don't have my way in this I shall
+go back to London."
+
+He put the envelope in his pocket, and stood silent, with eyes fixed
+on the river bank.
+
+"How long do you intend us to stay?" asked Eve.
+
+"As long as you find pleasure here."
+
+"And--what am I to do afterwards?"
+
+He glanced at her.
+
+"A holiday must come to an end," she added, trying, but without
+success, to meet his look.
+
+"I haven't given any thought to that," said Hilliard, carelessly;
+"there's plenty of time. It will be fine weather for many weeks
+yet."
+
+"But I have been thinking about it. I should be crazy if I didn't."
+
+"Tell me your thoughts, then."
+
+"Should you be satisfied if I got a place at Birmingham?"
+
+There again Was the note of self-abasement. It irritated the
+listener.
+
+"Why do you put it in that way? There's no question of what
+satisfies me, but of what is good for you."
+
+"Then I think it had better be Birmingham."
+
+"Very well. It's understood that when we leave Paris we go there."
+
+A silence. Then Eve asked abruptly:
+
+"You will go as well?"
+
+"Yes, I shall go back."
+
+"And what becomes of your determination to enjoy life as long as you
+can?"
+
+"I'm carrying it out. I shall go back satisfied, at all events."
+
+"And return to your old work?"
+
+"I don't know. It depends on all sorts of things. We won't talk of
+it just yet."
+
+Patty approached, and Hilliard turned to her with a bright, jesting
+face.
+
+Midway in August, on his return home one afternoon, the concierge
+let him know that two English gentlemen had been inquiring for him;
+one of them had left a card. With surprise and pleasure Hilliard
+read the name of Robert Narramore, and beneath it, written in
+pencil, an invitation to dine that evening at a certain hotel in the
+Rue de Provence. As usual, Narramore had neglected the duties of a
+correspondent; this was the first announcement of his intention to
+be in Paris. Who the second man might be Hilliard could not
+conjecture.
+
+He arrived at the hotel, and found Narramore in company with a man
+of about the same age, his name Birching, to Hilliard a stranger.
+They had reached Paris this morning, and would remain only for a day
+or two, as their purpose was towards the Alps.
+
+"I couldn't stand this heat," remarked Narramore, who, in the very
+lightest of tourist garbs, sprawled upon a divan, and drank
+something iced out of a tall tumbler. "We shouldn't have stopped
+here at all if it hadn't been for you. The idea is that you should
+go on with us."
+
+"Can't--impossible----"
+
+"Why, what are you doing here--besides roasting?"
+
+"Eating and drinking just what suits my digestion."
+
+"You look pretty fit--a jolly sight better than when we met last.
+All the same, you will go on with us. We won't argue it now; it's
+dinner-time. Wait till afterwards."
+
+At table, Narramore mentioned that his friend Birching was an
+architect.
+
+"Just what this fellow ought to have been," he said, indicating
+Hilliard. "Architecture is his hobby. I believe he could sit down
+and draw to scale a front elevation of any great cathedral in Europe
+--couldn't you, Hilliard?"
+
+Laughing the joke aside, Hilliard looked with interest at Mr.
+Birching, and began to talk with him. The three young men consumed a
+good deal of wine, and after dinner strolled about the streets,
+until Narramore's fatigue and thirst brought them to a pause at a
+cafe on the Boulevard des Italiens. Birching presently moved
+apart, to reach a newspaper, and remained out of earshot while
+Narramore talked with his other friend.
+
+"What's going on?" he began. "What are you doing here? Seriously, I
+want you to go along with us. Birching is a very good sort of chap,
+but just a trifle heavy--takes things rather solemnly for such hot
+weather. Is it the expense? Hang it! You and I know each other well
+enough, and, thanks to my old uncle----"
+
+"Never mind that, old boy," interposed Hilliard. "How long are you
+going for?"
+
+"I can't very well be away for more than three weeks. The brass
+bedsteads, you know----"
+
+Hilliard agreed to join in the tour.
+
+"That's right: I've been looking forward to it," said his friend
+heartily. "And now, haven't you anything to tell me? Are you alone
+here? Then, what the deuce do you do with yourself?"
+
+"Chiefly meditate."
+
+"You're the rummest fellow I ever knew. I've wanted to write to you,
+but--hang it!--what with hot weather and brass bedsteads, and
+this and that----Now, what _are_ you going to do? Your money won't
+last for ever. Haven't you any projects? It was no good talking
+about it before you left Dudley. I saw that. You were all but fit
+for a lunatic asylum, and no wonder. But you've pulled round, I see.
+Never saw you looking in such condition. What is to be the next
+move?"
+
+"I have no idea."
+
+"Well, now, _I_ have. This fellow Birching is partner with his
+brother, in Brum, and they're tolerably flourishing. I've thought of
+you ever since I came to know him; I think it was chiefly on your
+account that I got thick with him--though there was another reason
+I'll tell you about that some time. Now, why shouldn't you go into
+their office? Could you manage to pay a small premium? I believe I
+could square it with them. I haven't said anything. I never hurry--
+like things to ripen naturally. Suppose you saw your way, in a year
+or two, to make only as much in an architect's office as you did in
+that----machine-shop, wouldn't it be worth while?"
+
+Hilliard mused. Already he had a flush on his cheek, but his eyes
+sensibly brightened.
+
+"Yes," he said at length with deliberation. "It would be worth
+while."
+
+"So I should think. Well, wait till you've got to be a bit chummy
+with Birching. I think you'll suit each other. Let him see that you
+do really know something about architecture--there'll be plenty of
+chances."
+
+Hilliard, still musing, repeated with mechanical emphasis:
+
+"Yes, it would be worth while."
+
+Then Narramore called to Birching, and the talk became general
+again.
+
+The next morning they drove about Paris, all together. Narramore,
+though it was his first visit to the city, declined to see anything
+which demanded exertion, and the necessity for quenching his thirst
+recurred with great frequency. Early in the afternoon he proposed
+that they should leave Paris that very evening.
+
+"I want to see a mountain with snow on it. We're bound to travel by
+night, and another day of this would settle me. Any objection,
+Birching?"
+
+The architect agreed, and time-tables were consulted. Hilliard drove
+home to pack. When this was finished, he sat down and wrote a
+letter:
+
+"DEAR MISS MADELEY,--My friend Narramore is here, and has
+persuaded me to go to Switzerland with him. I shall be away for a
+week or two, and will let you hear from me in the meantime.
+Narramore says I am looking vastly better, and it is you I have to
+thank for this. Without you, my attempts at 'enjoying life' would
+have been a poor business. We start in an hour or two,--Yours
+ever,
+
+"MAURICE HILLIARD."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+He was absent for full three weeks, and arrived with his friends at
+the Gare de Lyon early one morning of September. Narramore and the
+architect delayed only for a meal, and pursued their journey
+homeward; Hilliard returned to his old quarters despatched a
+post-card asking Eve and Patty to dine with him that evening, and
+thereupon went to bed, where for some eight hours he slept the sleep
+of healthy fatigue.
+
+The place he had appointed for meeting with the girls was at the
+foot of the Boulevard St. Michel. Eve came alone.
+
+"And where's Patty?" he asked, grasping her hand heartily in return
+for the smile of unfeigned pleasure with which she welcomed him.
+
+"Ah, where indeed? Getting near to Charing Cross by now, I think."
+
+"She has gone back?"
+
+"Went this very morning, before I had your card--let us get out of
+the way of people. She has been dreadfully home-sick. About a
+fortnight ago a mysterious letter came for her she hid it away from
+me. A few days after another came, and she shut herself up for a
+long time, and when she came out again I saw she had been crying.
+Then we talked it over. She had written to Mr. Dally and got an
+answer that made her miserable; that was the _first_ letter. She
+wrote again, and had a reply that made her still more wretched; and
+that was the _second_. Two or three more came, and yesterday she
+could bear it no longer."
+
+"Then she has gone home to make it up with him?"
+
+"Of course. He declared that she has utterly lost her character and
+that no honest man could have anything more to say to her! I
+shouldn't wonder if they are married in a few weeks' time."
+
+Hilliard laughed light-heartedly.
+
+"I was to beg you on my knees to forgive her," pursued Eve. "But I
+can't very well do that in the middle of the street, can I? Really,
+she thinks she has behaved disgracefully to you. She wouldn't write
+a letter--she was ashamed. 'Tell him to forget all about me!' she
+kept saying."
+
+"Good little girl! And what sort of a husband will this fellow Dally
+make her?"
+
+"No worse than husbands in general, I dare say--but how well you
+look! How you must have been enjoying yourself!"
+
+"I can say exactly the same about you!"
+
+"Oh, but you are sunburnt, and look quite a different man!"
+
+"And you have an exquisite colour in your cheeks, and eyes twice as
+bright as they used to be; and one would think you had never known a
+care."
+
+"I feel almost like that," said Eve, laughing.
+
+He tried to meet her eyes; she eluded him.
+
+"I have an Alpine hunger; where shall we dine?"
+
+The point called for no long discussion, and presently they were
+seated in the cool restaurant. Whilst he nibbled an olive, Hilliard
+ran over the story of his Swiss tour.
+
+"If only _you_ had been there! It was the one thing lacking."
+
+"You wouldn't have enjoyed yourself half so much. You amused me by
+your description of Mr. Narramore, in the letter from Geneva."
+
+"The laziest rascal born! But the best-tempered, the easiest to live
+with. A thoroughly good fellow; I like him better than ever. Of
+course he is improved by coming in for money--who wouldn't be,
+that has any good in him at all? But it amazes me that he can be
+content to go back to Birmingham and his brass bedsteads. Sheer lack
+of energy, I suppose. He'll grow dreadfully fat, I fear, and by when
+he becomes really a rich man--it's awful to think of."
+
+Eve asked many questions about Narramore; his image gave mirthful
+occupation to her fancy. The dinner went merrily on, and when the
+black coffee was set before them:
+
+"Why not have it outside?" said Eve. "You would like to smoke, I
+know."
+
+Hilliard assented, and they seated themselves under the awning. The
+boulevard glowed in a golden light of sunset; the sound of its
+traffic was subdued to a lulling rhythm.
+
+"There's a month yet before the leaves will begin to fall," murmured
+the young man, when he had smoked awhile in silence.
+
+"Yes," was the answer. "I shall be glad to have a little summer
+still in Birmingham."
+
+"Do you wish to go?"
+
+"I shall go to-morrow, or the day after," Eve replied quietly.
+
+Then again there came silence.
+
+"Something has been proposed to me," said Hilliard, at length,
+leaning forward with his elbows upon the table. "I mentioned that
+our friend Birching is an architect. He's in partnership with his
+brother, a much older man. Well, they nave offered to take me into
+their office if I pay a premium of fifty guineas. As soon as I can
+qualify myself to be of use to them, they'll give me a salary. And I
+shall have the chance of eventually doing much better than I ever
+could at the old grind, where, in fact, I had no prospect whatever."
+
+"That's very good news," Eve remarked, gazing across the street.
+
+"You think I ought to accept?"
+
+"I suppose you can pay the fifty guineas, and still leave yourself
+enough to live upon?"
+
+"Enough till I earn something," Hilliard answered with a smile.
+
+"Then I should think there's no doubt."
+
+"The question is this--are you perfectly willing to go back to
+Birmingham?"
+
+"I'm _anxious_ to go."
+
+"You feel quite restored to health?"
+
+"I was never so well in my life."
+
+Hilliard looked into her face, and could easily believe that she
+spoke the truth. His memory would no longer recall the photograph in
+Mrs. Brewer's album; the living Eve, with her progressive changes of
+countenance, had obliterated that pale image of her bygone self. He
+saw her now as a beautiful woman, mysterious to him still in many
+respects, yet familiar as though they had been friends for years.
+
+"Then, whatever life is before me," he said. "I shall have done
+_one_ thing that is worth doing."
+
+"Perhaps--if everyone's life is worth saving," Eve answered in a
+voice just audible.
+
+"Everyone's is not; but yours was."
+
+Two men who had been sitting not far from them rose and walked away.
+As if more at her ease for this secession, Eve looked at her
+companion, and said in a tone of intimacy:
+
+"How I must have puzzled you when you first saw me in London!"
+
+He answered softly:
+
+"To be sure you did. And the thought of it puzzles me still."
+
+"Oh, but can't you understand? No; of course you can't--I have
+told you so little. Just give me an idea of what sort of person you
+expected to find."
+
+"Yes, I will. Judging from your portrait, and from what I was told
+of you, I looked for a sad, solitary, hard-working girl--rather
+poorly dressed--taking no pleasure--going much to chapel--
+shrinking from the ordinary world."
+
+"And you felt disappointed?"
+
+"At first, yes; or, rather, bewildered--utterly unable to
+understand you."
+
+"You are disappointed still?" she asked.
+
+"I wouldn't have you anything but what you are."
+
+"Still, that other girl was the one you _wished_ to meet."
+
+"Yes, before I had seen you. It was the sort of resemblance between
+her life and my own. I thought of sympathy between us. And the face
+of the portrait--but I see better things in the face that is
+looking at me now."
+
+"Don't be quite sure of that--yes, perhaps. It's better to be
+healthy, and enjoy life, than broken-spirited and hopeless. The
+strange thing is that you were right--you fancied me just the kind
+of a girl I was: sad and solitary, and shrinking from people--true
+enough. And I went to chapel, and got comfort from it--as I hope
+to do again. Don't think that I have no religion. But I was so
+unhealthy, and suffered so in every way. Work and anxiety without
+cease, from when I was twelve years old. You know all about my
+father? If I hadn't been clever at figures, what would have become
+of me? I should have drudged at some wretched occupation until the
+work and the misery of everything killed me."
+
+Hilliard listened intently, his eyes never stirring from her face.
+
+"The change in me began when father came back to us, and I began to
+feel my freedom. Then I wanted to get away, and to live by myself. I
+thought of London--I've told you how much I always thought of
+London--but I hadn't the courage to go there. In Birmingham I
+began to change my old habits; but more in what I thought than what
+I did. I wished to enjoy myself like other girls, but I couldn't.
+For one thing, I thought it wicked; and then I was so afraid of
+spending a penny--I had so often known what it was to be in want
+of a copper to buy food. So I lived quite alone; sat in my room
+every evening and read books. You could hardly believe what a number
+of books I read in that year. Sometimes I didn't go to bed till two
+or three o'clock."
+
+"What sort of books?"
+
+"I got them from the Free Library--books of all kinds; not only
+novels. I've never been particularly fond of novels; they always
+made me feel my own lot all the harder. I never could understand
+what people mean when they say that reading novels takes them 'out
+of themselves.' It was never so with me. I liked travels and lives
+of people, and books about the stars. Why do you laugh?"
+
+"You escaped from yourself _there_, at all events."
+
+"At last I saw an advertisement in a newspaper--a London paper in
+the reading-room--which I was tempted to answer; and I got an
+engagement in London. When the time came for starting I was so
+afraid and low-spirited that I all but gave it up. I should have
+done, if I could have known what was before me. The first year in
+London was all loneliness and ill-health. I didn't make a friend,
+and I starved myself, all to save money. Out of my pound a week I
+saved several shillings--just because it was the habit of my whole
+life to pinch and pare and deny myself. I was obliged to dress
+decently, and that came out of my food. It's certain I must have a
+very good constitution to have gone through all that and be as well
+as I am to-day."
+
+"It will never come again," said Hilliard.
+
+"How can I be sure of that? I told you once before that I'm often in
+dread of the future. It would be ever so much worse, after knowing
+what it means to enjoy one's life. How do people feel who are quite
+sure they can never want as long as they live? I have tried to
+imagine it, but I can't; it would b_ too wonderful."
+
+"You may know it some day."
+
+Eve reflected.
+
+"It was Patty Ringrose," she continued, "who taught me to take life
+more easily. I was astonished to find how much enjoyment she could
+get out of an hour or two of liberty, with sixpence to spend. She
+did me good by laughing at me, and in the end I astonished _her_.
+Wasn't it natural that I should be reckless as soon as I got the
+chance?"
+
+"I begin to understand."
+
+"The chance came in this way. One Sunday morning I went by myself to
+Hampstead, and as I was wandering about on the Heath I kicked
+against something. It was a cash-box, which I saw couldn't have been
+lying there very long. I found it had been broken open, and inside
+it were a lot of letters--old letters in envelopes; nothing else.
+The addresses on the envelopes were all the same--to a gentleman
+living at Hampstead. I thought the best I could do was to go and
+inquire for this address; and I found it, and rang the door-bell.
+When I told the servant what I wanted--it was a large house--she
+asked me to come in, and after I had waited a little she took me
+into a library, where a gentleman was sitting. I had to answer a
+good many questions, and the man talked rather gruffly to me. When
+he had made a note of my name and where I lived, he said that I
+should hear from him, and so I went away. Of course I hoped to have
+a reward, but for two or three days I heard nothing; then, when I
+was at business, someone asked to see me--a man I didn't know. He
+said he had come from Mr. So and So, the gentleman at Hampstead, and
+had brought something for me--four five-pound notes. The cash-box
+had been stolen by someone, with other things, the night before I
+found it, and the letters in it, which disappointed the thief, had a
+great value for their owner. All sorts of inquiries had been made
+about me and no doubt I very nearly got into the hands of the
+police, but it was all right, and I had twenty pounds reward. Think!
+twenty pounds!"
+
+Hilliard nodded.
+
+"I told no one about it--not even Patty. And I put the money into
+the Post Office savings bank. I meant it to stay there till I might
+be in need; but I thought of it day and night. And only a fortnight
+after, my employers shut up their place of business, and I had
+nothing to do. All one night I lay awake, and when I got up in the
+morning I felt as if I was no longer my old self. I saw everything
+in a different way--felt altogether changed. I had made up my mind
+not to look for a new place, but to take my money out of the Post
+Office--I had more than twenty-five pounds there altogether--and
+spend it for my pleasure. It was just as if something had enraged
+me, and I was bent on avenging myself. All that day I walked about
+the town, looking at shops, and thinking what I should like to buy:
+but I only spent a shilling or two, for meals. The next day I bought
+some new clothing. The day after that I took Patty to the theatre,
+and astonished her by my extravagance; but I gave her no
+explanation, and to this day she doesn't understand how I got my
+money. In a sort of way, I _did_ enjoy myself. For one thing, I took
+a subscription at Mudie's, and began to read once more. You can't
+think how it pleased me to get my books--new books--where rich
+people do. I changed a volume about every other day--I had so many
+hours I didn't know what to do with. Patty was the only friend I had
+made, so I took her about with me whenever she could get away in the
+evening."
+
+"Yet never once dined at a restaurant," remarked Hilliard, laughing.
+"There's the difference between man and woman."
+
+"My ideas of extravagance were very modest, after all."
+
+Hilliard, fingering his coffee-cup, said in a lower voice:
+
+"Yet you haven't told me everything."
+
+Eve looked away, and kept silence.
+
+"By the time I met you"--he spoke in his ordinary tone--"you had
+begun to grow tired of it."
+
+"Yes--and----" She rose. "We won't sit here any longer."
+
+When they had walked for a few minutes:
+
+"How long shall you stay in Paris?" she asked.
+
+"Won't you let me travel with you?"
+
+"I do whatever you wish," Eve answered simply.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+Her accent of submission did not affect Hilliard as formerly; with a
+nervous thrill, he felt that she spoke as her heart dictated. In his
+absence Eve had come to regard him, if not with the feeling he
+desired, with something that resembled it; he read the change in her
+eyes. As they walked slowly away she kept nearer to him than of
+wont; now and then her arm touched his, and the contact gave him a
+delicious sensation. Askance he observed her figure, its graceful,
+rather languid, movement; to-night she had a new power over him, and
+excited with a passion which made his earlier desires seem
+spiritless.
+
+"One day more of Paris?" he asked softly.
+
+"Wouldn't it be better----?" she hesitated in the objection.
+
+"Do you wish to break the journey in London?"
+
+"No; let us go straight on."
+
+"To-morrow, then?"
+
+"I don't think we ought to put it off. The holiday is over."
+
+Hilliard nodded with satisfaction. An incident of the street
+occupied them for a few minutes, and their serious conversation was
+only resumed when they had crossed to the south side of the river,
+where they turned eastwards and went along the quays.
+
+"Till I can find something to do," Eve said at length, "I shall live
+at Dudley. Father will be very glad to have me there. He wished me
+to stay longer."
+
+"I am wondering whether it is really necessary for you to go back to
+your drudgery."
+
+"Oh, of course it is," she answered quickly. "I mustn't be idle.
+That's the very worst thing for me. And how am I to live?"
+
+"I have still plenty of money," said Hilliard, regarding her.
+
+"No more than you will need."
+
+"But think--how little more it costs for two than for one----"
+
+He spoke in spite of himself, having purposed no such suggestion.
+Eve quickened her step.
+
+"No, no, no! You have a struggle before you; you don't know what
+----"
+
+"And if it would make it easier for me?--there's no real doubt
+about my getting on well enough----"
+
+"Everything is doubtful." She spoke in a voice of agitation. "We
+can't see a day before us. We have arranged everything very well
+----"
+
+Hilliard was looking across the river. He walked more and more
+slowly, and turned at length to stand by the parapet. His companion
+remained apart from him, waiting. But he did not turn towards her
+again, and she moved to his side.
+
+"I know how ungrateful I must seem." She spoke without looking at
+him. "I have no right to refuse anything after all you----"
+
+"Don't say that," he interrupted impatiently. "That's the one thing
+I shall never like to think of."
+
+"I shall think of it always, and be glad to remember it----"
+
+"Come nearer--give me your hand----"
+
+Holding it, he drew her against his side, and they stood in silence
+looking upon the Seine, now dark beneath the clouding night.
+
+"I can't feel sure of you," fell at length from Hilliard.
+
+"I promise----"
+
+"Yes; here, now, in Paris. But when you are back in that hell----"
+
+"What difference can it make in me? It can't change what I feel now.
+You have altered all my life, my thoughts about everything. When I
+look back, I don't know myself. You were right; I must have been
+suffering from an illness that affected my mind. It seems impossible
+that I could ever have done such things. I ought to tell you. Do you
+wish me to tell you everything?"
+
+Hilliard spoke no answer, but he pressed her hand more tightly in
+his own.
+
+"You knew it from Patty, didn't you?"
+
+"She told me as much as she knew that night when I waited for you in
+High Street. She said you were in danger, and I compelled her to
+tell all she could."
+
+"I _was_ in danger, though I can't understand now how it went so far
+as that. It was he who came to me with the money, from the gentleman
+at Hampstead. That was how I first met him. The next day he waited
+for me when I came away from business."
+
+"It was the first time that anything of that kind had happened?"
+
+"The first time. And you know what the state of my mind was then.
+But to the end I never felt any--I never really loved him. We met
+and went to places together. After my loneliness--you can
+understand. But I distrusted him. Did Patty tell you why I left
+London so suddenly?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"When that happened I knew my instinct had been right from the
+first. It gave me very little pain, but I was ashamed and disgusted.
+He hadn't tried to deceive me in words; he never spoke of marriage;
+and from what I found out then, I saw that he was very much to be
+pitied."
+
+"You seem to contradict yourself," said Hilliard. "Why were you
+ashamed and disgusted?"
+
+"At finding myself in the power of such a woman. He married her when
+she was very young, and I could imagine the life he had led with her
+until he freed himself. A hateful woman!"
+
+"Hateful to you, I see," muttered the listener, with something tight
+at his heart.
+
+"Not because I felt anything like jealousy. You must believe me. I
+should never have spoken if I hadn't meant to tell you the simple
+truth."
+
+Again he pressed her hand. The warmth of her body had raised his
+blood to fever-heat.
+
+"When we met again, after I came back, it was by chance. I refused
+to speak to him, but he followed me all along the street, and I
+didn't know it till I was nearly home. Then he came up again, and
+implored me to hear what he had to say. I knew he would wait for me
+again in High Street, so I had no choice but to listen, and then
+tell him that there couldn't be anything more between us. And, for
+all that, he followed me another day. And again I had to listen to
+him."
+
+Hilliard fancied that he could feel her heart beat against his arm.
+
+"Be quick!" he said. "Tell all, and have done with it."
+
+"He told me, at last, that he was ruined. His wife had brought him
+into money difficulties; she ran up bills that he was obliged to
+pay, and left him scarcely enough to live upon. And he had used
+money that was not his own--he would have to give an account of it
+in a day or two. He was trying to borrow, but no one would lend him
+half what he needed----"
+
+"That's enough," Hilliard broke in, as her voice became inaudible.
+
+"No, you ought to know more than I have told you. Of course he
+didn't ask me for money; he had no idea that I could lend him even a
+pound. But what I wish you to know is that he hadn't spoken to me
+again in the old way. He said he had done wrong, when he first came
+to know me; he begged me to forgive him that, and only wanted me to
+be his friend."
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Oh, don't be ungenerous: that's so unlike you."
+
+"I didn't mean it ungenerously. In his position I should have done
+exactly as he did"
+
+"Say you believe me. There was not a word of love between us. He
+told me all about the miseries of his life--that was all; and I
+pitied him so. I felt he was so sincere."
+
+"I believe it perfectly."
+
+"There was no excuse for what I did. How I had the courage--the
+shamelessness--is more than I can understand now."
+
+Hilliard stirred himself, and tried to laugh.
+
+"As it turned out, you couldn't have done better. Well, there's an
+end of it. Come."
+
+He walked on, and Eve kept closely beside him, looking up into his
+face.
+
+"I am sure he will pay the money back," she said presently.
+
+"Hang the money!"
+
+Then he stood still.
+
+"How is he to pay it back? I mean, how is he to communicate with
+you?"
+
+"I gave him my address at Dudley."
+
+Again Hilliard moved on.
+
+"Why should it annoy you?" Eve asked. "If ever he writes to me, I
+shall let you know at once: you shall see the letter. It is quite
+certain that he _will_ pay his debt; and I shall be very glad when
+he does."
+
+"What explanation did you give him?"
+
+"The true one. I said I had borrowed from a friend. He was in
+despair, and couldn't refuse what I offered."
+
+"We'll talk no more of it. It was right to tell me. I'm glad now
+it's all over. Look at the moon rising--harvest moon, isn't it?"
+
+Eve turned aside again, and leaned on the parapet. He, lingering
+apart for a moment, at length drew nearer. Of her own accord she put
+her hands in his.
+
+"In future," she said, "you shall know everything I do. You can
+trust me: there will be no more secrets."
+
+"Yet you are afraid----"
+
+"It's for your sake. You must be free for the next year or two. I
+shall be glad to get to work again. I am well and strong and
+cheerful."
+
+Her eyes drew him with the temptation he had ever yet resisted. Eve
+did not refuse her lips.
+
+"You must write to Patty," she said, when they were at the place of
+parting. "I shall have her new address in a day or two."
+
+"Yes, I will write to her."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+By the end of November Hilliard was well at work in the office of
+Messrs. Birching, encouraged by his progress and looking forward as
+hopefully as a not very sanguine temperament would allow. He lived
+penuriously, and toiled at professional study night as well as day.
+Now and then he passed an evening with Robert Narramore, who had
+moved to cozy bachelor quarters a little distance out of town, in
+the Halesowen direction. Once a week, generally on Saturday, he saw
+Eve. Other society he had none, nor greatly desired any.
+
+But Eve had as yet found no employment. Good fortune in this respect
+seemed to have deserted her, and at her meetings with Hilliard she
+grew fretful over repeated disappointments. Of her day-to-day life
+she made no complaint, but Hilliard saw too clearly that her spirits
+were failing beneath a burden of monotonous dulness. That the
+healthy glow she had brought back in her cheeks should give way to
+pallor was no more than he had expected, but he watched with anxiety
+the return of mental symptoms which he had tried to cheat himself
+into believing would not reappear. Eve did not fail in pleasant
+smiles, in hopeful words; but they cost her an effort which she
+lacked the art to conceal. He felt a coldness in her, divined a
+struggle between conscience and inclination. However, for this also
+he was prepared; all the more need for vigour and animation on his
+own part.
+
+Hilliard had read of the woman who, in the strength of her love and
+loyalty, heartens a man through all the labours he must front he
+believed in her existence, but had never encountered her--as
+indeed very few men have. From Eve he looked for nothing of the
+kind. If she would permit herself to rest upon his sinews, that was
+all he desired. The mood of their last night in Paris might
+perchance return, but only with like conditions. Of his workaday
+passion she knew nothing; habit of familiarity and sense of
+obligation must supply its place with her until a brightening future
+once more set her emotions to the gladsome tune.
+
+Now that the days of sun and warmth were past, it was difficult to
+arrange for a meeting under circumstances that allowed of free
+comfortable colloquy. Eve declared that her father's house offered
+no sort of convenience; it was only a poor cottage, and Hilliard
+would be altogether out of place there. To his lodgings she could
+not come. Of necessity they had recourse to public places in
+Birmingham, where an hour or two of talk under shelter might make
+Eve's journey hither worth while. As Hilliard lived at the north end
+of the town, he suggested Aston Hall as a possible rendezvous, and
+here they met, early one Saturday afternoon in December.
+
+From the eminence which late years have encompassed with a
+proletarian suburb, its once noble domain narrowed to the bare acres
+of a stinted breathing ground, Aston Hall looks forth upon joyless
+streets and fuming chimneys, a wide welter of squalid strife. Its
+walls, which bear the dints of Roundhead cannonade, are blackened
+with ever-driving smoke; its crumbling gateway, opening aforetime
+upon a stately avenue of chestnuts, shakes as the steam-tram rushes
+by. Hilliard's imagination was both attracted and repelled by this
+relic of what he deemed a better age. He enjoyed the antique
+chambers, the winding staircases, the lordly gallery, with its dark
+old portraits and vast fireplaces, the dim-lighted nooks where one
+could hide alone and dream away the present; but in the end, reality
+threw scorn upon such pleasure. Aston Hall was a mere architectural
+relic, incongruous and meaning. less amid its surroundings; the
+pathos of its desecrated dignity made him wish that it might be
+destroyed, and its place fittingly occupied by some People's Palace,
+brand new, aglare with electric light, ringing to the latest
+melodies of the street. When he had long gazed at its gloomy front,
+the old champion of royalism seemed to shrink together, humiliated
+by Time's insults.
+
+It was raining when he met Eve at the entrance.
+
+"This won't do," were his first words. "You can't come over in such
+weather as this. If it hadn't seemed to be clearing tip an hour or
+two ago, I should have telegraphed to stop you."
+
+"Oh, the weather is nothing to me," Eve answered, with resolute
+gaiety. "I'm only too glad of the change. Besides, it won't go on
+much longer. I shall get a place."
+
+Hilliard never questioned her about her attempts to obtain an
+engagement; the subject was too disagreeable to him.
+
+"Nothing yet," she continued, as they walked up the muddy roadway to
+the Hall. "But I know you don't like to talk about it."
+
+"I have something to propose. How if I take a couple of cheap rooms
+in some building let out for offices, and put in a few sticks of
+furniture? Would you come to see me there?"
+
+He watched her face as she listened to the suggestion, and his
+timidity seemed justified by her expression.
+
+"You would be so uncomfortable in such a place. Don't trouble. We
+shall manage to meet somehow. I am certain to be living here before
+long."
+
+"Even when you are," he persisted, "we shall only be able to see
+each other in places like this. I can't talk--can't say half the
+things I wish to----"
+
+"We'll think about it. Ah, it's warm in here!"
+
+This afternoon the guardians of the Hall were likely to be troubled
+with few visitors. Eve at once led the way upstairs to a certain
+suite of rooms, hung with uninteresting pictures, where she and
+Hilliard had before this spent an hour safe from disturbance. She
+placed herself in the recess of a window: her companion took a few
+steps backward and forward.
+
+"Let me do what I wish," he urged. "There's a whole long winter
+before us. I am sure I could find a couple of rooms at a very low
+rent, and some old woman would come in to do all that's necessary."
+
+"If you like."
+
+"I may? You would come there?" he asked eagerly.
+
+"Of course I would come. But I sha'n't like to see you in a bare,
+comfortless place."
+
+"It needn't be that. A few pounds will make a decent sort of
+sitting-room."
+
+"Anything to tell me?" Eve asked, abruptly quitting the subject.
+
+She seemed to be in better spirits than of late, notwithstanding the
+evil sky; and Hilliard smiled with pleasure as he regarded her.
+
+"Nothing unusual. Oh, yes; I'm forgetting. I had a letter from
+Emily, and went to see her."
+
+Hilliard had scarcely seen his quondam sister-in-law since she
+became Mrs. Marr. On the one occasion of his paying a call, after
+his return from Paris, it struck him that her husband offered no
+very genial welcome. He had expected this, and willingly kept aloof.
+
+"Read the letter."
+
+Eve did so. It began, "My dear Maurice," and ended, "Ever
+affectionately and gratefully yours." The rest of its contents ran
+thus:
+
+"I am in great trouble--dreadfully unhappy. It would be such a
+kindness if you would let me see you. I can't put in a letter what I
+want to say, and I do hope you won't refuse to come. Friday
+afternoon, at three, would do, if you can get away from business for
+once. How I look back on the days when you used to come over from
+Dudley and have tea with us in the dear little room. Do come!"
+
+"Of course," said Hilliard, laughing as he met Eve's surprised look.
+"I knew what _that_ meant. I would much rather have got out of it,
+but it would have seemed brutal. So I went. The poor simpleton has
+begun to find that marriage with one man isn't necessarily the same
+thing as marriage with another. In Ezra Marr she has caught a
+Tartar."
+
+"Surely he doesn't ill-use her?"
+
+"Not a bit of it. He is simply a man with a will, and finds it
+necessary to teach his wife her duties. Emily knows no more about
+the duties of life than her little five-year-old girl. She thought
+she could play with a second husband as she did with the first, and
+she was gravely mistaken. She complained to me of a thousand acts of
+tyranny--every one of them, I could see, merely a piece of rude
+commonsense. The man must be calling himself an idiot for marrying
+her. I could only listen with a long face. Argument with Emily is
+out of the question. And I shall take good care not to go there
+again."
+
+Eve asked many questions, and approved his resolve.
+
+"You are not the person to console and instruct her. But she must
+look upon you as the best and wisest of men. I can understand that."
+
+"You can understand poor, foolish Emily thinking so----"
+
+"Put all the meaning you like into my words," said Eve, with her
+pleasantest smile. "Well, I too have had a letter. From Patty. She
+isn't going to be married, after all."
+
+"Why, I thought it was over by now."
+
+"She broke it off less than a week before the day. I wish I could
+show you her letter, but, of course, I mustn't. It's very amusing.
+They had quarrelled about every conceivable thing--all but one,
+and this came up at last. They were talking about meals, and Mr.
+Dally said that he liked a bloater for breakfast every morning. 'A
+bloater!' cried Patty. 'Then I hope you won't ask me to cook it for
+you. I can't bear them.' 'Oh, very well: if you can't cook a
+bloater, you're not the wife for me.' And there they broke off, for
+good and all."
+
+"Which means for a month or two, I suppose."
+
+"Impossible to say. But I have advised her as strongly as I could
+not to marry until she knows her own mind better. It is too bad of
+her to have gone so far. The poor man had taken rooms, and all but
+furnished them. Patty's a silly girl, I'm afraid."
+
+"Wants a strong man to take her in hand--like a good many other
+girls."
+
+Eve paid no attention to the smile.
+
+"Paris spoilt her for such a man as Mr. Dally. She got all sorts of
+new ideas, and can't settle down to the things that satisfied her
+before. It isn't nice to think that perhaps we did her a great deal
+of harm."
+
+"Nonsense! Nobody was ever harmed by healthy enjoyment."
+
+"Was it healthy--for _her_? That's the question."
+
+Hilliard mused, and felt disinclined to discuss the matter.
+
+"That isn't the only news I have for you," said Eve presently. "I've
+had another letter."
+
+Her voice arrested Hilliard's step as he paced near her.
+
+"I had rather not have told you anything about it, but I promised.
+And I have to give you something."
+
+She held out to him a ten-pound note.
+
+"What's this?"
+
+"He has sent it. He says he shall be able to pay something every
+three months until he has paid the whole debt. Please to take it."
+
+After a short struggle with himself, Hilliard recovered a manly
+bearing.
+
+"It's quite right he should return the money, Eve, but you mustn't
+ask me to have anything to do with it. Use it for your own expenses.
+I gave it to you, and I can't take it back."
+
+She hesitated, her eyes cast down,
+
+"He has written a long letter. There's not a word in it I should be
+afraid to show you. Will you read it--just to satisfy me? Do read
+it!"
+
+Hilliard steadily refused, with perfect self-command.
+
+"I trust you--that's enough. I have absolute faith in you. Answer
+his letter in the way you think best, and never speak to me of the
+money again. It's yours; make what use of it you like."
+
+"Then I shall use it," said Eve, after a pause, "to pay for a
+lodging in Birmingham. I couldn't live much longer at home. If I'm
+here, I can get books out of the library, and time won't drag so.
+And I shall be near you."
+
+"Do so, by all means."
+
+As if more completely to dismiss the unpleasant subject, they walked
+into another room. Hilliard began to speak again of his scheme for
+providing a place where they could meet and talk at their ease. Eve
+now entered into it with frank satisfaction.
+
+"Have you said anything yet to Mr. Narramore?" she asked at length.
+
+"No. I have never felt inclined to tell him. Of course I shall some
+day. But it isn't natural to me to talk of this kind of thing, even
+with so intimate a friend. Some men couldn't keep it to themselves:
+for me the difficulty is to speak."
+
+"I asked again, because I have been thinking--mightn't Mr.
+Narramore be able to help me to get work?"
+
+Hilliard repelled the suggestion with strong distaste. On no account
+would he seek his friend's help in such a matter. And Eve said no
+more of it.
+
+On her return journey to Dudley, between eight and nine o'clock, she
+looked cold and spiritless. Her eyelids dropped wearily as she sat
+in the corner of the carriage with some papers on her lap, which
+Hilliard had given her. Rain had ceased, and the weather seemed
+turning to frost. From Dudley station she had a walk of nearly half
+an hour, to the top of Kate's Hill.
+
+Kate's Hill is covered with an irregular assemblage of old red-tiled
+cottages, grimy without, but sometimes, as could be seen through an
+open door admitting into the chief room, clean and homely-looking
+within. The steep, narrow alleys leading upward were scarce lighted;
+here and there glimmered a pale corner-lamp, but on a black night
+such as this the oil-lit windows of a little shop, and the
+occasional gleam from doors, proved very serviceable as a help in
+picking one's path. Towards the top of the hill there was no paving,
+and mud lay thick. Indescribable the confusion of this toilers'
+settlement--houses and workshops tumbled together as if by chance,
+the ways climbing and winding into all manner of pitch-dark
+recesses, where eats prowled stealthily. In one spot silence and not
+a hint of life; in another, children noisily at play amid piles of
+old metal or miscellaneous rubbish. From the labyrinth which was so
+familiar to her, Eve issued of a sudden on to a sort of terrace,
+where the air blew shrewdly: beneath lay cottage roofs, and in front
+a limitless gloom, which by daylight would have been an extensive
+northward view, comprising the towns of Bilston and Wolverhampton.
+It was now a black gulf, without form and void, sputtering fire.
+Flames that leapt out of nothing, and as suddenly disappeared;
+tongues of yellow or of crimson, quivering, lambent, seeming to
+snatch and devour and then fall back in satiety. When a cluster of
+these fires shot forth together, the sky above became illumined with
+a broad glare, which throbbed and pulsed in the manner of
+sheet-lightning, though more lurid, and in a few seconds was gone.
+
+She paused here for a moment, rather to rest after her climb than to
+look at what she had seen so often, then directed her steps to one
+of the houses within sight. She pushed the door, and entered a
+little parlour, where a fire and a lamp made cheery welcome. By the
+hearth, in a round-backed wooden chair, sat a grizzle-headed man,
+whose hard features proclaimed his relation to Eve, otherwise
+seeming so improbable. He looked up from the volume open on his knee
+--a Bible--and said in a rough, kind voice:
+
+"I was thinkin' it 'ud be about toime for you. You look starved, my
+lass."
+
+"Yes; it has turned very cold."
+
+"I've got a bit o' supper ready for you. I don't want none myself;
+there's food enough for me _here_." He laid his hand on the book.
+"D'you call to mind the eighteenth of Ezekiel, lass?--'But if the
+wicked will turn from all his sins that he hath committed----'"
+
+Eve stood motionless till he had read the verse, then nodded and
+began to take off her out-of-door garments. She was unable to talk,
+and her eyes wandered absently.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+After a week's inquiry, Hilliard discovered the lodging that would
+suit his purpose. It was Camp Hill; two small rooms at the top of a
+house, the ground-floor of which was occupied as a corn-dealer's
+shop, and the story above that tenanted by a working optician with a
+blind wife. On condition of papering the rooms and doing a few
+repairs necessary to make them habitable, he secured them at the low
+rent of four shillings a week.
+
+Eve paid her first visit to this delectable abode on a Sunday
+afternoon; she saw only the sitting-room, which would bear
+inspection; the appearance of the bed-room was happily left to her
+surmise. Less than a five-pound note had paid for the whole
+furnishing. Notwithstanding the reckless invitation to Eve to share
+his fortunes straightway, Hilliard, after paving his premium of
+fifty guineas to the Birching Brothers, found but a very small
+remnant in hand of the money with which he had set forth from Dudley
+some nine months ago. Yet not for a moment did he repine; he had the
+value of his outlay; his mind was stored with memories and his heart
+strengthened with hope.
+
+At her second coming--she herself now occupied a poor little
+lodging not very far away--Eve beheld sundry improvements. By the
+fireside stood a great leather chair, deep, high-backed, wondrously
+self-assertive over against the creaky cane seat which before had
+dominated the room. Against the wall was a high bookcase, where
+Hilliard's volumes, previously piled on the floor, stood in loose
+array; and above the mantelpiece hung a framed engraving of the
+Parthenon.
+
+"This is dreadful extravagance!" she exclaimed, pausing at the
+threshold, and eying her welcomer with mock reproof.
+
+"It is, but not on my part. The things came a day or two ago, simply
+addressed to me from shops."
+
+"Who was the giver, then?"
+
+"Must be Narramore, of course. He was here not long ago, and growled
+a good deal because I hadn't a decent chair for his lazy bones."
+
+"I am much obliged to him," said Eve, as she sank back in the seat
+of luxurious repose. "You ought to hang his portrait in the room.
+Haven't you a photograph?" she added carelessly.
+
+"Such a thing doesn't exist. Like myself, he hasn't had a portrait
+taken since he was a child. A curious thing, by-the-bye, that you
+should have had yours taken just when you did. Of course it was
+because you were going far away for the first time; but it marked a
+point in your life, and put on record the Eve Madeley whom no one
+would see again If I can't get that photograph in any other way I
+shall go and buy, beg, or steal it from Mrs. Brewer."
+
+"Oh, you shall have one if you insist upon it."
+
+"Why did you refuse it before?"
+
+"I hardly know--a fancy--I thought you would keep looking at it,
+and regretting that I had changed so."
+
+As on her previous visit, she soon ceased to talk, and, in listening
+to Hilliard, showed unconsciously a tired, despondent face.
+
+"Nothing yet," fell from her lips, when he had watched her silently.
+
+"Never mind; I hate the mention of it."
+
+"By-the-bye," he resumed, "Narramore astounded me by hinting at
+marriage. It's Miss Birching, the sister of my man. It hasn't come
+to an engagement yet, and if it ever does I shall give Miss Birching
+the credit for it. It would have amused you to hear him talking
+about her, with a pipe in his mouth and half asleep. I understand
+now why he took young Birching with him to Switzerland. He'll never
+carry it through; unless, as I said, Miss Birching takes the
+decisive step."
+
+"Is she the kind of girl to do that?" asked Eve, waking to
+curiosity.
+
+"I know nothing about her, except from Narramore's sleepy talk.
+Rather an arrogant beauty, according to him. He told me a story of
+how, when he was calling upon her, she begged him to ring the bell
+for something or other, and he was so slow in getting up that she
+went and rang it herself. 'Her own fault,' he said; 'she asked me to
+sit on a chair with a seat some six inches above the ground, and how
+can a man hurry up from a thing of that sort?'"
+
+"He must be a strange man. Of course he doesn't care anything about
+Miss Birching."
+
+"But I think he does, in his way."
+
+"How did he ever get on at all in business?"
+
+"Oh, he's one of the lucky men." Hilliard replied, with a touch of
+good-natured bitterness. "He never exerted himself; good things fell
+into his mouth. People got to like him--that's one explanation, no
+doubt."
+
+"Don't you think he may have more energy than you imagine?"
+
+"It's possible. I have sometimes wondered."
+
+"What sort of life does he lead? Has he many friends I mean?"
+
+"Very few. I should doubt whether there's anyone he talks with as he
+does with me. He'll never get much good out of his money; but if he
+fell into real poverty--poverty like mine--it would kill him. I
+know he looks at me as an astonishing creature, and marvels that I
+don't buy a good dose of chloral and have done with it."
+
+Eve did not join in his laugh.
+
+"I can't bear to hear you speak of your poverty," she said in an
+undertone. "You remind me that I am the cause of it."
+
+"Good Heavens! As if I should mention it if I were capable of such a
+thought!"
+
+"But it's the fact," she persisted, with something like irritation.
+"But for me, you would have gone into the architect's office with
+enough to live upon comfortably for a time."
+
+"That's altogether unlikely," Hilliard declared. "But for you, it's
+improbable that I should have gone to Birching's at all. At this
+moment I should be spending my money in idleness, and, in the end,
+should have gone back to what I did before. You have given me a
+start in a new life."
+
+This, and much more of the same tenor, failed to bring a light upon
+Eve's countenance. At length she asked suddenly, with a defiant
+bluntness----
+
+"Have you ever thought what sort of a wife I am likely to make?"
+
+Hilliard tried to laugh, but was disagreeably impressed by her words
+and the look that accompanied them.
+
+"I have thought about it, to be sure," he answered carelessly
+
+"And don't you feel a need of courage?"
+
+"Of course. And not only the need but the courage itself."
+
+"Tell me the real, honest truth." She bent forward, and gazed at him
+with eyes one might have thought hostile. "I demand the truth of
+you: I have a right to know it. Don't you often wish you had never
+seen me?"
+
+"You 're in a strange mood."
+
+"Don't put me off. Answer!"
+
+"To ask such a question," he replied quietly, "is to charge me with
+a great deal of hypocrisy. I did _once_ all but wish I had never
+seen you. If I lost you now I should lose what seems to me the
+strongest desire of my life. Do you suppose I sit down and meditate
+on your capacity as cook or housemaid? It would be very prudent and
+laudable, but I have other thoughts--that give me trouble enough."
+
+"What thoughts?"
+
+"Such as one doesn't talk about--if you insist on frankness."
+
+Her eyes wandered.
+
+"It's only right to tell you," she said, after silence, "that I
+dread poverty as much as ever I did. And I think poverty in marriage
+a thousand times worse than when one is alone."
+
+"Well, we agree in that. But why do you insist upon it just now? Are
+_you_ beginning to be sorry that we ever met?"
+
+"Not a day passes but I feel sorry for it."
+
+"I suppose you are harping on the old scruple. Why will you plague
+me about it?"
+
+"I mean," said Eve, with eyes down, "that you are the worse off for
+having met me, but I mean something else as well. Do you think it
+possible that anyone can owe too much gratitude, even to a person
+one likes?"
+
+He regarded her attentively.
+
+"You feel the burden?"
+
+She delayed her answer, glancing at him with a new expression--a
+deprecating tenderness.
+
+"It's better to tell you. I _do_ feel it, and have always felt it."
+
+"Confound this infernal atmosphere!" Hilliard broke out wrathfully.
+"It's making you morbid again. Come here to me! Eve--come!"
+
+As she sat motionless, he caught her hands and drew her forward, and
+sat down again with her passive body resting upon his knees. She was
+pale, and looked frightened.
+
+"Your gratitude be hanged! Pay me back with your lips--so--and
+so! Can't you understand that when my lips touch yours, I have a
+delight that would be well purchased with years of semi-starvation?
+What is it to me how I won you? You are mine for good and all--
+that's enough."
+
+She drew herself half away, and stood brightly flushed, touching her
+hair to set it in order again. Hilliard, with difficulty controlling
+himself, said in a husky voice--
+
+"Is the mood gone?"
+
+Eve nodded, and sighed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+At the time appointed for their next meeting, Hilliard waited in
+vain. An hour passed, and Eve, who had the uncommon virtue of
+punctuality, still did not come. The weather was miserable--rain,
+fog, and slush--but this had heretofore proved no obstacle, for
+her lodgings were situated less than half a mile away. Afraid of
+missing her if he went out, he fretted through another hour, and was
+at length relieved by the arrival of a letter of explanation. Eve
+wrote that she had been summoned to Dudley; her father was stricken
+with alarming illness, and her brother had telegraphed.
+
+For two days he heard nothing; then came a few lines which told him
+that Mr. Madeley could not live many more hours. On the morrow Eve
+wrote that her father was dead.
+
+To the letter which he thereupon despatched Hilliard had no reply
+for nearly a week. When Eve wrote, it was from a new address at
+Dudley. After thanking him for the kind words with which he had
+sought to comfort her, she continued--
+
+"I have at last found something to do, and it was quite time, for I
+have been very miserable, and work is the best thing for me. Mr.
+Welland, my first employer, when I was twelve years old, has asked
+me to come and keep his books for him, and I am to live in his
+house. My brother has gone into lodgings, and we see no more of the
+cottage on Kate's Hill. It's a pity I have to be so far from you
+again, but there seems to be no hope of getting anything to do in
+Birmingham, and here I shall be comfortable enough, as far as mere
+living goes. On Sunday I shall be quite free, and will come over as
+often as possible; but I have caught a bad cold, and must be content
+to keep in the house until this dreadful weather changes. Be more
+careful of yourself than you generally are, and let me hear often.
+In a few months' time we shall be able to spend pleasant hours on
+the Castle Hill. I have heard from Patty, and want to tell you about
+her letter, but this cold makes me feel too stupid Will write again
+soon."
+
+It happened that Hilliard himself was just now blind and voiceless
+with a catarrh. The news from Dudley by no means solaced him. He
+crouched over his fire through the long, black day, tormented with
+many miseries, and at eventide drank half a bottle of whisky, piping
+hot, which at least assured him of a night's sleep.
+
+Just to see what would be the result of his silence, he wrote no
+reply to this letter. A fortnight elapsed; he strengthened himself
+in stubbornness, aided by the catarrh, which many bottles of whisky
+would not overcome. When his solitary confinement grew at length
+insufferable, he sent for Narramore, and had not long to wait before
+his friend appeared. Narramore was rosy as ever: satisfaction with
+life beamed from his countenance.
+
+"I've ordered you in some wine," he exclaimed genially, sinking into
+the easy-chair which Hilliard had vacated for him--an instance of
+selfishness in small things which did not affect his generosity in
+greater. "It isn't easy to get good port nowadays, but they tell me
+that this is not injurious. Hasn't young Birching been to see you?
+No, I suppose he would think it _infra dig_. to come to this
+neighbourhood. There's a damnable self-conceit in that family: you
+must have noticed it, eh? It comes out very strongly in the girl.
+By-the-bye I've done with her--haven't been there for three weeks,
+and don't think I shall go again, unless it's for the pleasure of
+saying or doing something that'll irritate her royal highness."
+
+"Did you quarrel?"
+
+"Quarrel? I never quarrel with anyone; it's bad for one's nerves."
+
+"Did you get as far as proposing?"
+
+"Oh, I left _her_ to do that. Women are making such a row about
+their rights nowadays, that it's as well to show you grant them
+perfect equality. I gave her every chance of saying something
+definite. I maintain that she trifled with my affections. She asked
+me what my views in life were. Ah, thought I, now it's coming; and I
+answered modestly that everything depended on circumstances. I might
+have said it depended on the demand for brass bedsteads; but perhaps
+that would have verged on indelicacy--you know that I am delicacy
+personified. 'I thought,' said Miss Birching, 'that a man of any
+energy made his own circumstances?' 'Energy!' I shouted. 'Do you
+look for energy in _me_? It's the greatest compliment anyone ever
+paid me.' At that she seemed desperately annoyed, and wouldn't
+pursue the subject. That's how it always was, just when the
+conversation grew interesting."
+
+"I'm sorry to see you so cut up about it," remarked Hilliard.
+
+"None of your irony, old fellow. Well, the truth is, I've seen
+someone I like better."
+
+"Not surprised."
+
+"It's a queer story; I'll tell it you some day, if it comes to
+anything. I'm not at all sure that it will, as there seems to be a
+sort of lurking danger that I may make a damned fool of myself."
+
+"Improbable?" commented the listener. "Your blood is too temperate."
+
+"So I thought; but one never knows. Unexpected feelings crop up in a
+fellow. We won't talk about it just now. How have things been going
+in the architectural line?"
+
+"Not amiss. Steadily, I think."
+
+Narramore lay back at full length, his face turned to the ceiling.
+
+"Since I've been living out yonder, I've got a taste for the
+country. I have a notion that, if brass bedsteads keep firm, I shall
+some day build a little house of my own; an inexpensive little
+house, with a tree or two about it. Just make me a few sketches,
+will you? When you've nothing better to do, you know."
+
+He played with the idea, till it took strong hold of him, and he
+began to talk with most unwonted animation.
+
+"Five or six thousand pounds--I ought to be able to sink that in a
+few years. Not enough, eh? But I don't want a mansion. I'm quite
+serious about this, Hilliard. When you re feeling ready to start on
+your own account, you shall have the job."
+
+Hilliard laughed grimly at the supposition that he would ever attain
+professional independence, but his friend talked on, and overleaped
+difficulties with a buoyancy of spirit which ultimately had its
+effect upon the listener. When he was alone again, Hilliard felt
+better, both in body and mind, and that evening, over the first
+bottle of Narramore's port, he amused himself with sketching ideal
+cottages.
+
+"The fellow's in love, at last. When a man thinks of pleasant little
+country houses, 'with a tree or two' about them----"
+
+He sighed, and ground his teeth, and sketched on.
+
+Before bedtime, a sudden and profound shame possessed him. Was he
+not behaving outrageously in neglecting to answer Eve's letter? For
+all he knew the cold of which she complained might have caused her
+more suffering than he himself had gone through from the like cause,
+and that was bad enough. He seized paper and wrote to her as he had
+never written before, borne on the very high flood of passionate
+longing. Without regard to prudence he left the house at midnight
+and posted his letter.
+
+"It never occurred to me to blame you for not writing," Eve quickly
+replied; "I'm afraid you are more sensitive than I am, and, to tell
+the truth, I believe men generally _are_ more sensitive than women
+in things of this kind. It pleased me very much to hear of the visit
+you had had from Mr. Narramore, and that he had cheered you. I do so
+wish I could have come, but I have really been quite ill, and I must
+not think of risking a journey till the weather improves. Don't
+trouble about it; I will write often."
+
+"I told you about a letter I had had from poor Patty, and I want to
+ask you to do something. Will you write to her? Just a nice,
+friendly little letter. She would be so delighted, she would indeed.
+There's no harm in copying a line or two from what she sent me. 'Has
+Mr. Hilliard forgotten all about me?' she says. 'I would write to
+him, but I feel afraid. Not afraid of _you_, dear Eve, but he might
+feel I was impertinent. What do you think? We had such delicious
+times together, he and you and I, and I really don't want him to
+forget me altogether?' Now I have told her that there is no fear
+whatever of your forgetting her, and that we often speak of her. I
+begin to think that I have been unjust to Patty in calling her
+silly, and making fun of her. She was anything but foolish in
+breaking off with that absurd Mr. Dally, and I can see now that she
+will never give a thought to him again. What I fear is that the poor
+girl will never find any one good enough for her. The men she meets
+are very vulgar, and vulgar Patty is _not_--as you once said to
+me, you remember. So, if you can spare a minute, write her a few
+lines, to show that you still think of her. Her address is----,
+etc."
+
+To Hilliard all this seemed merely a pleasant proof of Eve's
+amiability, of her freedom from that acrid monopolism which
+characterises the ignoble female in her love relations. Straightway
+he did as he was requested, and penned to Miss Ringrose a chatty
+epistle, with which she could not but be satisfied. A day or two
+brought him an answer. Patty's handwriting lacked distinction, and
+in the matter of orthography she was not beyond reproach, but her
+letter chirped with a prettily expressed gratitude. "I am living
+with my aunt, and am likely to for a long time. And I get on very
+well at my new shop, which I have no wish to leave." This was her
+only allusion to the shattered matrimonial project: "I wish there
+was any chance of you and Eve coming to live in London, but I
+suppose that's too good to hope for. We don't get many things as we
+wish them in this world. And yet I oughtn't to say that either, for
+if it hadn't been for you I should never have seen Paris, which was
+so awfully jolly! But you'll be coming for a holiday, won't you? I
+should so like just to see you, if ever you do. It isn't like it was
+at the old shop. There's a great deal of business done here, and
+very little time to talk to anyone in the shop. But many girls have
+worse things to put up with than I have, and I won't make you think
+I'm a grumbler."
+
+The whole of January went by before Hilliard and Eve again saw each
+other. The lover wrote at length that he could bear it no longer,
+that he was coming to Dudley, if only for the mere sight of Eve's
+face; she must meet him in the waiting-room at the railway station.
+She answered by return of post, "I will come over next Sunday, and
+be with you at twelve o'clock, but I must leave very early, as I am
+afraid to be out after nightfall." And this engagement was kept.
+
+The dress of mourning became her well; it heightened her always
+noticeable air of refinement, and would have constrained to a
+reverential tenderness even had not Hilliard naturally checked
+himself from any bolder demonstration of joy. She spoke in a low,
+soft voice, seldom raised her eyes, and manifested a new gentleness
+very touching to Hilliard, though at the same time, and he knew not
+how or why, it did not answer to his desire. A midday meal was in
+readiness for her; she pretended to eat, but in reality scarce
+touched the food.
+
+"You must taste old Narramore's port wine," said her entertainer.
+"The fellow actually sent a couple of dozen."
+
+She was not to be persuaded; her refusal puzzled and annoyed
+Hilliard, and there followed a long silence. Indeed, it surprised
+him to find how little they could say to each other to-day. An
+unknown restraint had come between them.
+
+"Well," he exclaimed at length, "I wrote to Patty, and she
+answered."
+
+"May I see the letter?"
+
+"Of course. Here it is."
+
+Eve read it, and smiled with pleasure.
+
+"Doesn't she write nicely! Poor girl!"
+
+"Why have you taken so to commiserating her all at once?" Hilliard
+asked. "She's no worse off than she ever was. Rather better, I
+think."
+
+"Life isn't the same for her since she was in Paris," said Eve, with
+peculiar softness.
+
+"Well, perhaps it improved her."
+
+"Oh, it certainly did! But it gave her a feeling of discontent for
+the old life and the people about her."
+
+"A good many of us have to suffer that. She's nothing like as badly
+off as you are, my dear girl."
+
+Eve coloured, and kept silence.
+
+"We shall hear of her getting married before long," resumed the
+other. "She told me herself that marriage was the scourge of
+music-shops--it carries off their young women at such a rate."
+
+"She told you that? It was in one of your long talks together in
+London? Patty and you got on capitally together. It was very natural
+she shouldn't care much for men like Mr. Dally afterwards."
+
+Hilliard puzzled over this remark, and was on the point of making
+some impatient reply, but discretion restrained him. He turned to
+Eve's own affairs, questioned her closely about her life in the
+tradesman's house, and so their conversation followed a smoother
+course. Presently, half in jest, Hilliard mentioned Narramore's
+building projects.
+
+"But who knows? It _might_ come to something of importance for me.
+In two or three years, if all goes well, such a thing might possibly
+give me a start."
+
+A singular solemnity had settled upon Eve's countenance. She spoke
+not a word, and seemed unaccountably ill at ease.
+
+"Do you think I am in the clouds?" said Hilliard.
+
+"Oh, no! Why shouldn't you get on--as other men do?"
+
+But she would not dwell upon the hope, and Hilliard, not a little
+vexed, again became silent.
+
+Her next visit was after a lapse of three weeks. She had again been
+suffering from a slight illness, and her pallor alarmed Hilliard.
+Again she began with talk of Patty Ringrose.
+
+"Do you know, there's really a chance that we may see her before
+long! She'll have a holiday at Easter, from the Thursday night to
+Monday night, and I have all but got her to promise that she'll come
+over here. Wouldn't it be fun to let her see the Black Country? You
+remember her talk about it. I could get her a room, and if it's at
+all bearable weather, we would all have a day somewhere. Wouldn't
+you like that?"
+
+"Yes; but I should greatly prefer a day with you alone."
+
+"Oh, of course, the time is coming for that, Would you let us come
+here one day?"
+
+With a persistence not to be mistaken Eve avoided all intimate
+topics; at the same time her manner grew more cordial. Through
+February and March, she decidedly improved in health. Hilliard saw
+her seldom, but she wrote frequent letters, and their note was as
+that of her conversation, lively, all but sportive. Once again she
+had become a mystery to her lover; he pondered over her very much as
+in the days when they were newly acquainted. Of one thing he felt
+but too well assured. She did not love him as he desired to be
+loved. Constant she might be, but it was the constancy of a woman
+unaffected with ardent emotion. If she granted him her lips they had
+no fervour respondent to his own; she made a sport of it, forgot it
+as soon as possible. Upon Hilliard's vehement nature this acted
+provocatively; at times he was all but frenzied with the violence of
+his sensual impulses. Yet Eve's control of him grew more assured the
+less she granted of herself; a look, a motion of her lips, and he
+drew apart, quivering but subdued. At one such moment he exclaimed:
+
+"You had better not come here at all. I love you too insanely."
+
+Eve looked at him, and silently began to shed tears. He implored her
+pardon, prostrated himself, behaved in a manner that justified his
+warning. But Eve stifled the serious drama of the situation, and
+forced him to laugh. with her.
+
+In these days architectural study made little way.
+
+Patty Ringrose was coming for the Easter holidays. She would arrive
+on Good Friday. "As the weather is so very bad still," wrote Eve to
+Hilliard, "will you let us come to see you on Saturday? Sunday may
+be better for an excursion of some sort."
+
+And thus it was arranged. Hilliard made ready his room to receive
+the fair visitors, who would come at about eleven in the morning. As
+usual nowadays, he felt discontented, but, after all, Patty's
+influence might be a help to him, as it had been in worse straits.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+To-day he had the house to himself. The corn-dealers shop was
+closed, as on a Sunday; the optician and his blind wife had locked
+up their rooms and were spending Easter-tide, it might be hoped,
+amid more cheerful surroundings. Hilliard sat with his door open,
+that he might easily hear the knock which announced his guests at
+the entrance below.
+
+It sounded, at length, but timidly. Had he not been listening, he
+would not have perceived it. Eve's handling of the knocker was
+firmer than that, and in a different rhythm. Apprehensive of
+disappointment, he hurried downstairs and opened the door to Patty
+Ringrose--Patty alone.
+
+With a shy but pleased laugh, her cheeks warm and her eyes bright,
+she jerked out her hand to him as in the old days.
+
+"I know you won't be glad to see me. I'm so sorry. I said I had
+better not come."
+
+"Of course I am glad to see you. But where's Eve?"
+
+"It's so unfortunate--she has such a bad headache!" panted the
+girl. "She couldn't possibly come, and I wanted to stay with her, I
+said. I should only disappoint you."
+
+"It's a pity, of course; but I'm glad you came, for all that."
+Hilliard stifled his dissatisfaction and misgivings. "You'll think
+this a queer sort of place. I'm quite alone here to-day. But after
+you have rested a little we can go somewhere else."
+
+"Yes. Eve told me you would be so kind as to take me to see things.
+I'm not tired. I won't come in, if you'd rather----"
+
+"Oh, you may as well see what sort of a den I've made for myself."
+
+He led the way upstairs. When she reached the top, Patty was again
+breathless, the result of excitement more than exertion. She
+exclaimed at sight of the sitting-room. How cosy it was! What a
+scent from the flowers! Did he always buy flowers for his room? No
+doubt it was to please Eve. What a comfortable chair! Of course Eve
+always sat in this chair?
+
+Then her babbling ceased, and she looked up at Hilliard, who stood
+over against her, with nervous delight. He could perceive no change
+whatever in her, except that she was better dressed than formerly.
+Not a day seemed to have been added to her age; her voice had
+precisely the intonations that he remembered. After all, it was
+little more than half a year since they were together in Paris; but
+to Hilliard the winter had seemed of interminable length, and he
+expected to find Miss Ringrose a much altered person.
+
+"When did this headache begin?" he inquired, trying to speak without
+over-much concern.
+
+"She had a little yesterday, when she met me at the station. I
+didn't think she was looking at all well."
+
+"I'm surprised to hear that. She looked particularly well when I saw
+her last. Had you any trouble in making your way here?"
+
+"Oh, not a bit. I found the tram, just as Eve told me. But I'm so
+sorry! And a fine day too! You don't often have fine days here, do
+you, Mr. Hilliard?"
+
+"Now and then. So you've seen Dudley at last. What do you think of
+it?"
+
+"Oh, I like it! I shouldn't mind living there a bit. But of course I
+like Birmingham better."
+
+"Almost as fine as Paris, isn't it?"
+
+"You don't mean that, of course. But I've only seen a few of the
+streets, and most of the shops are shut up to-day. Isn't it a pity
+Eve has to live so far off? Though, of course, it isn't really very
+far--and I suppose you see each other often?"
+
+Hilliard took a seat, crossed his legs, and grasped his knee. The
+girl appeared to wait for an answer to her last words, but he said
+nothing, and stared at the floor.
+
+"If it's fine to-morrow," Patty continued, after observing him
+furtively, "are you coming to Dudley?"
+
+"Yes, I shall come over. Did she send any message?"
+
+"No--nothing particular----"
+
+Patty looked confused, stroked her dress, and gave a little cough.
+
+"But if it rains--as it very likely will--there's no use in my
+coming"
+
+"No, she said not."
+
+"Or if her headache is still troubling her----"
+
+"Let's hope it will be better. But--in any case, she'll be able to
+come with me to Birmingham on Monday, when I go back I must be home
+again on Monday night."
+
+"Don't you think," said Hilliard carelessly, "that Eve would rather
+have you to herself, just for the short time you are here?"
+
+Patty made vigorous objection.
+
+"I don't think that at all. It's quite settled that you are to come
+over to-morrow, if it's fine. Oh, and I _do_ hope it will be! It
+would be so dreadful to be shut up in the house all day at Dudley.
+How very awkward that there's no place where she can have you there!
+If it rains, hadn't we better come here? I'm sure it would be better
+for Eve. She seems to get into such low spirits--just like she was
+sometimes in London."
+
+"That's quite news to me," said the listener gravely.
+
+"Doesn't she let you know? Then I'm so sorry I mentioned it. You
+won't tell her I said anything?"
+
+"Wait a moment. Does she say that she is often in low spirits?"
+
+Patty faltered, stroking her dress with the movement of increasing
+nervousness.
+
+"It's better I should know," Hilliard added, "I'm afraid she keeps
+all this from me. For several weeks I have thought her in
+particularly good health."
+
+"But she tells me just the opposite. She says----"
+
+"Says what?"
+
+"Perhaps it's only the place that doesn't agree with her. I don't
+think Dudley is _very_ healthy, do you?"
+
+"I never heard of doctors sending convalescents there. But Eve must
+be suffering from some other cause, I think. Does it strike you that
+she is at all like what she used to be when--when you felt so
+anxious about her?"
+
+He met the girl's eyes, and saw them expand in alarm.
+
+"I didn't think--I didn't mean----" she stammered.
+
+"No, but I have a reason for asking. Is it so or not?"
+
+"Don't frighten me, Mr. Hilliard! I do so wish I hadn't said
+anything. She isn't in good health, that's all. How can you think
+----? That was all over long ago. And she would never--I'm _sure_
+she wouldn't, after all you've done for her."
+
+Hilliard ground the carpet with his foot, and all but uttered a
+violent ejaculation.
+
+"I know she is all gratitude," were the words that became audible.
+
+"She is indeed!" urged Patty. "She says that--even if she wished
+--she could never break off with you; as I am _sure_ she would
+never wish!"
+
+"Ah! that's what she says," murmured the other. And abruptly he
+rose. "There's no use in talking about this. You are here for a
+holiday, and not to be bored with other people's troubles. The sun
+is trying to shine. Let us go and see the town, and then--yes,
+I'll go back with you to Dudley, just to hear whether Eve is feeling
+any better. You could see her, and then come out and tell me."
+
+"Mr. Hilliard, I'm quite sure you are worrying without any cause--
+you are, indeed!"
+
+"I know I am. It's all nonsense. Come along, and let us enjoy the
+sunshine."
+
+They spent three or four hours together, Hilliard resolute in his
+discharge of hospitable duties, and Miss Ringrose, after a brief
+spell of unnatural gravity, allowing no reflection to interfere with
+her holiday mood. Hilliard had never felt quite sure as to the
+limits of Patty's intelligence; he could not take her seriously, and
+yet felt unable to treat her altogether as a child or an imbecile.
+To-day, because of his preoccupied thoughts, and the effort it cost
+him to be jocose, he talked for the most part in a vein of irony
+which impressed, but did not much enlighten, his hearer.
+
+"This," said he, when they had reached the centre of things, "is the
+Acropolis of Birmingham. Here are our great buildings, of which we
+boast to the world. They signify the triumph of Democracy--and of
+money. In front of you stands the Town Hall. Here, to the left, is
+the Midland Institute, where a great deal of lecturing goes on, and
+the big free library, where you can either read or go to sleep. I
+have done both in my time. Behind yonder you catch a glimpse of the
+fountain that plays to the glory of Joseph Chamberlain--did you
+ever hear of him? And further back still is Mason College, where
+young men are taught a variety of things, including discontent with
+a small income. To the right there, that's the Council Hall--
+splendid, isn't it! We bring our little boys to look at it, and tell
+them if they make money enough they may some day go in and out as if
+it were their own house. Behind it you see the Art Gallery. We don't
+really care for pictures; a great big machine is our genuine
+delight; but it wouldn't be nice to tell everybody that."
+
+"What a lot I have learnt from you!" exclaimed the girl ingenuously,
+when at length they turned their steps towards the railway station.
+"I shall always remember Birmingham. You like it much better than
+London, don't you?"
+
+"I glory in the place!"
+
+Hilliard was tired out. He repented of his proposal to make the
+journey to Dudley and back, but his companion did not suspect this.
+
+"I'm sure Eve will come out and have a little walk with us," she
+said comfortingly. "And she'll think it so kind of you."
+
+At Dudley station there were crowds of people; Patty asked leave to
+hold by her companion's arm as they made their way to the exit. Just
+outside Hilliard heard himself hailed in a familiar voice; he turned
+and saw Narramore.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said his friend, coming near. "I didn't notice
+--I thought you were alone, or, of course I shouldn't have shouted.
+Shall you be at home to-morrow afternoon?"
+
+"If it rains."
+
+"It's sure to rain. I shall look in about four."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+With a glance at Miss Ringrose, he raised his hat and passed on.
+Hilliard, confused by the rapid rencontre, half annoyed at having
+been seen with Patty, and half wishing he had not granted the
+appointment for tomorrow, as it might interfere with a visit from
+the girls, walked forward in silence.
+
+"So we really sha'n't see you if it's wet tomorrow," said Patty.
+
+"Better not. Eve would be afraid to come, she catches cold so
+easily."
+
+"It may be fine, like to-day. I do hope----"
+
+She broke off and added:
+
+"Why, isn't that Eve in front?"
+
+Eve it certainly was, walking slowly away from the station, a few
+yards in advance of them. They quickened their pace, and Patty
+caught her friend by the arm. Eve, startled out of abstraction,
+stared at her with eyes of dismay and bloodless cheeks.
+
+"Did I frighten you? Mr. Hilliard has come back with me to ask how
+you are. Is your head better?"
+
+"I've just been down to the station--for something to do," said
+Eve, her look fixed on Hilliard with what seemed to him a very
+strange intensity. "The afternoon was so fine."
+
+"We've had a splendid time," cried Patty. "Mr. Hilliard has shown me
+everything."
+
+"I'm so glad. I should only have spoilt it if I had been with you.
+It's wretched going about with a headache, and I can't make believe
+to enjoy Birmingham."
+
+Eve spoke hurriedly, still regarding Hilliard, who looked upon the
+ground.
+
+"Have you been alone all day?" he asked, taking the outer place at
+her side, as they walked on.
+
+"Of course--except for the people in the house," was her offhand
+reply.
+
+"I met Narramore down at the station; he must have passed you. What
+has brought him here to-day, I wonder?"
+
+Appearing not to heed the remark, Eve glanced across at Patty, and
+said with a laugh:
+
+"It's like Paris again, isn't it--we three? You ought to come and
+live here, Patty. Don't you think you could get a place in
+Birmingham? Mr. Hilliard would get a piano for his room, and you
+could let him have some music. I'm too old to learn."
+
+"I'm sure he wouldn't want _me_ jingling there."
+
+"Wouldn't he? He's very fond of music indeed."
+
+Hilliard stopped.
+
+"Well, I don't think I'll go any further," he said mechanically.
+"You're quite well again, Eve, and that's all I wanted to know."
+
+"What about to-morrow?" Eve asked.
+
+The sun had set, and in the westward sky rose a mountain of menacing
+cloud. Hilliard gave a glance in that direction before replying.
+
+"Don't count upon me. Patty and you will enjoy the day together, in
+any case. Yes, I had rather have it so. Narramore said just now he
+might look in to see me in the after' noon. But come over on Monday.
+When does Patty's train go from New Street?"
+
+Eve was mute, gazing at the speaker as if she did not catch what he
+had said. Patty answered for herself.
+
+"Then you can either come to my place," he continued, "or I'll meet
+you at the station."
+
+Patty's desire was evident in her face; she looked at Eve.
+
+"We'll come to you early in the afternoon," said the latter,
+speaking like one aroused from reverie. "Yes, we'll come whatever
+the weather is."
+
+The young man shook hands with them, raised his hat, and walked away
+without further speech. It occurred to him that he might overtake
+Narramore at the station, and in that hope he hastened; but
+Narramore must have left by a London and North-Western train which
+had just started; he was nowhere discoverable. Hilliard travelled
+back by the Great Western, after waiting about an hour; he had for
+companions half-a-dozen beer-muddled lads, who roared hymns and
+costers' catches impartially.
+
+His mind was haunted with deadly suspicions: he felt sick at heart.
+
+Eve's headache, undoubtedly, was a mere pretence for not
+accompanying Patty to-day. She had desired to be alone, and--this
+he discovered no less clearly--she wished the friendship between
+him and Patty to be fostered. With what foolish hope? Was she so
+shallow-natured as to imagine that he might transfer his affections
+to Patty Ringrose? it proved how strong her desire had grown to be
+free from him.
+
+The innocent Patty (_was_ she so innocent?) seemed not to suspect
+the meaning of her friend's talk. Yet Eve must have all but told her
+in so many words that she was weary of her lover. That hateful
+harping on "gratitude"! Well, one cannot purchase a woman's love. He
+had missed the right, the generous, line of conduct. That would have
+been to rescue Eve from manifest peril, and then to ask nothing of
+her. Could he but have held his passions in leash, something like
+friendship--rarest of all relations between man and woman--might
+have come about between him and Eve. She, too, certainly had never
+got beyond the stage of liking him as a companion; her senses had
+never answered to his appeal He looked back upon the evening when
+they had dined together at the restaurant in Holborn. Could he but
+have stopped at _that_ point! There would have been no harm in such
+avowals as then escaped him, for he recognised without bitterness
+that the warmth of feeling was all on one side, and Eve, in the
+manner of her sex, could like him better for his love without a
+dream of returning it. His error was to have taken advantage--
+perhaps a mean advantage--of the strange events that followed. If
+he restrained himself before, how much more he should have done so
+when the girl had put herself at his mercy, when to demand her love
+was the obvious, commonplace, vulgar outcome of the situation? Of
+course she harped on "gratitude." What but a sense of obligation had
+constrained her?
+
+Something had taken place to-day; he felt it as a miserable
+certainty. The man from London had been with her. She expected him,
+and had elaborately planned for a day of freedom. Perhaps her
+invitation of Patty had no other motive.
+
+That Patty was a conspirator against him he could not believe. No!
+She was merely an instrument of Eve's subtlety. And his suspicion
+had not gone beyond the truth. Eve entertained the hope that Patty
+might take her place. Perchance the silly, good-natured girl would
+feel no objection; though it was not very likely that she foresaw or
+schemed for such an issue.
+
+At Snow Hill station it cost him an effort to rise and leave the
+carriage. His mood was sluggish; he wished to sit still and think
+idly over the course of events.
+
+He went byway of St. Philip's Church, which stands amid a wide
+graveyard, enclosed with iron railings, and crossed by paved walks.
+The locality was all but forsaken; the church rose black against the
+grey sky, and the lofty places of business round about were darkly
+silent. A man's footstep sounded in front of him, and a figure
+approached along the narrow path between the high bars. Hilliard
+would have passed without attention, but the man stopped his way.
+
+"Hollo! Here we are again!"
+
+He stared at the speaker, and recognised Mr. Dengate.
+
+"So you've come back?"
+
+"Where from?" said Hilliard. "What do you know of me?"
+
+"As much as I care to," replied the other with a laugh. "So you
+haven't quite gone to the devil yet? I gave you six months. I've
+been watching the police news in the London papers."
+
+In a maddening access of rage, Hilliard clenched his fist and struck
+fiercely at the man. But he did no harm, for his aim was wild, and
+Dengate easily warded off the blows.
+
+"Hold on! You're drunk, of course. Stop it, my lad, or I'll have you
+locked up till Monday morning. Very obliging of you to offer me the
+pleasure I was expecting, but you _will_ have it, eh?"
+
+A second blow was repaid in kind, and Hilliard staggered back
+against the railings. Before he could recover himself, Dengate,
+whose high hat rolled between their feet, pinned his arms.
+
+"There's someone coming along. It's a pity. I should enjoy thrashing
+you and then running you in. But a man of my position doesn't care
+to get mixed up in a street row. It wouldn't sound well at
+Liverpool. Stand quiet, will you!"
+
+A man and a woman drew near, and lingered for a moment in curiosity.
+Hilliard already amazed at what he had done, became passive, and
+stood with bent head.
+
+"I must have a word or two With you," said Dengate, when he had
+picked up his hat. "Can you walk straight? I didn't notice you were
+drunk before I spoke to you. Come along this way."
+
+To escape the lookers-on, Hilliard moved forward.
+
+"I've always regretted," resumed his companion, "that I didn't give
+you a sound thrashing that night in the train. It would have done
+you good. It might have been the making of you. I didn't hurt you,
+eh?"
+
+"You've bruised my lips--that's all. And I deserved it for being
+such a damned fool as to lose my temper."
+
+"You look rather more decent than I should have expected. What have
+you been doing in London?"
+
+"How do you know I have been in London?"
+
+"I took that for granted when I knew you'd left your work at
+Dudley."
+
+"Who told you I had left it?"
+
+"What does it matter?"
+
+"I should like to know," said Hilliard, whose excitement had passed
+and left him cold. "And I should like to know who told you before
+that I was in the habit of getting drunk?"
+
+"Are you drunk now, or not?"
+
+"Not in the way you mean. Do you happen to know a man called
+Narramore?"
+
+"Never heard the name."
+
+Hilliard felt ashamed of his ignoble suspicion. He became silent.
+
+"There's no reason why you shouldn't be told," added Dengate; "it
+was a friend of yours at Dudley that I came across when I was making
+inquiries about you: Mullen his name was."
+
+A clerk at the ironworks, with whom Hilliard had been on terms of
+slight intimacy.
+
+"Oh, that fellow," he uttered carelessly. "I'm glad to know it was
+no one else. Why did you go inquiring about me?"
+
+"I told you. If I'd heard a better account I should have done a good
+deal more for you than pay that money. I gave you a chance, too. If
+you'd shown any kind of decent behaviour when I spoke to you in the
+train--but it's no good talking about that now. This is the second
+time you've let me see what a natural blackguard you are. It's
+queer, too, you didn't get that from your father. I could have put
+you in the way of something good at Liverpool. Now, I'd see you
+damned first, Well, have you run through the money?"
+
+"Every penny of it gone in drink."
+
+"And what are you doing?"
+
+"Walking with a man I should be glad to be rid of."
+
+"All right. Here's my card. When you get into the gutter, and
+nobody'll give you a hand out, let me know."
+
+With a nod, Dengate walked off. Hilliard saw him smooth his silk hat
+as he went; then, without glancing at the card, he threw it away.
+
+The next morning was cold and wet. He lay in bed till eleven
+o'clock, when the charwoman came to put his rooms in order. At
+mid-day he left home, had dinner at the nearest place he knew where
+a meal could be obtained on Sunday, and afterwards walked the
+streets for an hour under his umbrella. The exercise did him good;
+on returning he felt able to sit down by the fire, and turn over the
+plates of his great book on French Cathedrals. This, at all events,
+remained to him out of the wreck, and was a joy that could be
+counted upon in days to come.
+
+He hoped Narramore would keep his promise, and was not disappointed.
+On the verge of dusk his friend knocked and entered.
+
+"The blind woman was at the door below," he explained, "looking for
+somebody."
+
+"It isn't as absurd as it sounds. She does look for people--with
+her ears. She knows a footstep that no one else can hear. What were
+_you_ doing at Dudley yesterday?"
+
+Narramore took his pipe out of its case and smiled over it.
+
+"Colours well, doesn't it?" he remarked. "You don't care about the
+colouring of a pipe? I get a lot of satisfaction out of such little
+things! Lazy fellows always do; and they have the best of life in
+the end. By-the-bye, what were _you_ doing at Dudley?"
+
+"Had to go over with a girl."
+
+"Rather a pretty girl, too. Old acquaintance?"
+
+"Someone I got to know in London. No, no, not at all what you
+suppose."
+
+"Well, I know you wouldn't talk about it. It isn't my way, either,
+to say much about such things. But I half-promised, not long ago, to
+let you know of something that was going on--if it came to
+anything. And it rather looks as if it might. What do you think!
+Birching has been at me, wanting to know why I don't call. I wonder
+whether the girl put him up to it?"
+
+"You went rather far, didn't you?"
+
+"Oh, I drew back in time. Besides, those ideas are old-fashioned.
+It'll have to be understood that marriageable girls have nothing
+specially sacred about them. They must associate with men on equal
+terms. The day has gone by for a hulking brother to come asking a
+man about his 'intentions.' As a rule, it's the girl that has
+intentions. The man is just looking round, anxious to be amiable
+without making a fool of himself. We're at a great disadvantage. A
+girl who isn't an idiot can very soon know all about the men who
+interest her; but it's devilish difficult to get much insight into
+_them_--until you've hopelessly committed yourself--won't you
+smoke? I've something to tell you, and I can't talk to a man who
+isn't smoking, when my own pipe's lit."
+
+Hilliard obeyed, and for a few moments they puffed in silence,
+twilight thickening about them.
+
+"Three or four months ago," resumed Narramore, "I was told one day
+--at business--that a lady wished to see me. I happened to have
+the room to myself, and told them to show the lady in. I didn't in
+the least know who it could be, and I was surprised to see rather a
+good-looking girl--not exactly a lady--tallish, and with fine
+dark eyes--what did you say?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"A twinge of gout?"
+
+"Go on."
+
+Narramore scrutinised his friend, who spoke in an unusual tone.
+
+"She sat down, and began to tell me that she was out of work--
+wanted a place as a bookkeeper, or something of the kind. Could I
+help her? I asked her why she came to _me_. She said she had heard
+of me from someone who used to be employed at our place. That was
+flattering. I showed my sense of it. Then I asked her name, and she
+said it was Miss Madeley."
+
+A gust threw rain against the windows. Narramore paused, looking
+into the fire, and smiling thoughtfully.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+"You foresee the course of the narrative?"
+
+"Better tell it in detail," muttered Hilliard.
+
+"Why this severe tone? Do you anticipate something that will shock
+your moral sense? I didn't think you were so straitlaced."
+
+"Do you mean to say----"
+
+Hilliard was sitting upright; his voice began on a harsh tremor, and
+suddenly failed. The other gazed at him in humorous astonishment.
+
+"What the devil do you mean? Even suppose--who made you a judge
+and a ruler? This is the most comical start I've known for a long
+time. I was going to tell you that I have made up my mind to marry
+the girl."
+
+"I see--it's all right----"
+
+"But do you really mean," said Narramore, "that anything else would
+have aroused your moral indignation?"
+
+Hilliard burst into a violent fit of laughter. His pipe fell to the
+floor, and broke; whereupon he interrupted his strange merriment
+with a savage oath.
+
+"It was a joke, then?" remarked his friend.
+
+"Your monstrous dulness shows the state of your mind. This is what
+comes of getting entangled with women. You need to have a sense of
+humour."
+
+"I'm afraid there's some truth in what you say, old boy. I've been
+conscious of queer symptoms lately--a disposition to take things
+with absurd seriousness, and an unwholesome bodily activity now and
+then."
+
+"Go on with your tragic story. The girl asked you to find her a
+place----"
+
+"I promised to think about it, but I couldn't hear of anything
+suitable. She had left her address with me, so at length I wrote her
+a line just saying I hadn't forgotten her. I got an answer on
+black-edged paper. Miss Madeley wrote to tell me that her father had
+recently died, and that she had found employment at Dudley; with
+thanks for my kindness--and so on. It was rather a nicely written
+letter, and after a day or two I wrote again. I heard nothing--
+hardly expected to; so in a fortnight's time I wrote once more.
+Significant, wasn't it? I'm not fond of writing letters, as you
+know. But I've written a good many since then. At last it came to
+another meeting. I went over to Dudley on purpose, and saw Miss
+Madeley on the Castle Hill. I had liked the look of her from the
+first, and I liked it still better now. By dint of persuasion, I
+made her tell me all about herself."
+
+"Did she tell you the truth?"
+
+"Why should you suppose she didn't?" replied Narramore with some
+emphasis. "You must look at this affair in a different light,
+Hilliard. A joke is a joke, but I've told you that the joking time
+has gone by. I can make allowance for you: you think I have been
+making a fool of myself, after all."
+
+"The beginning was ominous."
+
+"The beginning of our acquaintance? Yes, I know how it strikes you.
+But she came in that way because she had been trying for months
+----"
+
+"Who was it that told her of you?"
+
+"Oh, one of our girls, no doubt. I haven't asked her--never
+thought again about it."
+
+"And what's her record?"
+
+"Nothing dramatic in it, I'm glad to say. At one time she had an
+engagement in London for a year or two. Her people, 'poor but
+honest'--as the stories put it. Father was a timekeeper at Dudley;
+brother, a mechanic there. I was over to see her yesterday; we had
+only just said good-bye when I met you. She's remarkably well
+educated, all things considered: very fond of reading; knows as much
+of books as I do--more, I daresay. First-rate intelligence; I
+guessed that from the first. I can see the drawbacks, of course. As
+I said, she isn't what _you_ would call a lady; but there's nothing
+much to find fault with even in her manners. And the long and the
+short of it is, I'm in love with her."
+
+"And she has promised to marry you?"
+
+"Well, not in so many words. She seems to have scruples--
+difference of position, and that kind of thing."
+
+"Very reasonable scruples, no doubt."
+
+"Quite right that she should think of it in that way, at all events.
+But I believe it was practically settled yesterday. She isn't in
+very brilliant health, poor girl! I want to get her away from that
+beastly place as soon as possible. I shall give myself a longish
+holiday, and take her on to the Continent. A thorough change of that
+kind would set her up wonderfully.
+
+"She has never been on to the Continent?"
+
+"What a preposterous question! You're going to sleep, sitting here
+in the dark. Oh, don't trouble to light up for me; I can't stay much
+longer."
+
+Hilliard had risen, but instead of lighting the lamp he turned to
+the window and stood there drumming with his fingers on a pane.
+
+"Are you seriously concerned for me?" said his friend. "Does it seem
+a piece of madness?"
+
+"You must judge for yourself, Narramore."
+
+"When you have seen her I think you'll take my views. Of course it's
+the very last thing I ever imagined myself doing; but I begin to see
+that the talk about fate isn't altogether humbug. I want this girl
+for my wife, and I never met any one else whom I really _did_ want.
+She suits me exactly. It isn't as if I thought of marrying an
+ordinary, ignorant, low-class girl. Eve--that's her name--is
+very much out of the common, look at her how you may. She's rather
+melancholy, but that's a natural result of her life."
+
+"No doubt, as you say, she wants a thorough change," remarked
+Hilliard, smiling in the gloom.
+
+"That's it. Her nerves are out of order. Well, I thought I should
+like to tell you this, old chap. You'll get over the shock in time.
+I more than half believe, still, that your moral indignation was
+genuine. And why not? I ought to respect you for it."
+
+"Are you going?"
+
+"I must be in Bristol Road by five--promised to drink a cup of
+Mrs. Stocker's tea this afternoon. I'm glad now that I have kept up
+a few homely acquaintances; they may be useful, Of course I shall
+throw over the Birchings and that lot. You see now why my thoughts
+have been running on a country house!"
+
+He went off laughing, and his friend sat down again by the fireside.
+
+Half an hour passed. The fire had burnt low, and the room was quite
+dark. At length, Hilliard bestirred himself. He lit the lamp, drew
+down the blind, and seated himself at the table to write. With great
+rapidity he covered four sides of note-paper, and addressed an
+envelope. But he had no postage-stamp. It could be obtained at a
+tobacconist's.
+
+So he went out, and turned towards a little shop hard by. But when
+he had stamped the letter he felt undecided about posting it. Eve
+had promised to come to-morrow with Patty. If she again failed him
+it would be time enough to write. If she kept her promise the
+presence of a third person would be an intolerable restraint upon
+him. Yet why? Patty might as well know all, and act as judge between
+them. There needed little sagacity to arbitrate in a matter such as
+this.
+
+To sit at home was impossible. He walked for the sake of walking,
+straight on, without object. Down the long gas-lit perspective of
+Bradford Street, with its closed, silent workshops, across the
+miserable little river Rea--canal rather than river, sewer rather
+than canal--up the steep ascent to St. Martin's and the Bull Ring,
+and the bronze Nelson, dripping with dirty moisture; between the big
+buildings of New Street, and so to the centre of the town. At the
+corner by the Post Office he stood in idle contemplation. Rain was
+still falling, but lightly. The great open space gleamed with shafts
+of yellow radiance reflected on wet asphalt from the numerous lamps.
+There was little traffic. An omnibus clattered by, and a tottery
+cab, both looking rain-soaked. Near the statue of Peel stood a
+hansom, the forlorn horse crooking his knees and hanging his
+hopeless head. The Town Hall colonnade sheltered a crowd of people,
+who were waiting for the rain to stop, that they might spend their
+Sunday evening, as usual, in rambling about the streets. Within the
+building, which showed light through all its long windows, a
+religious meeting was in progress, and hundreds of voices peeled
+forth a rousing hymn, fortified with deeper organ-note.
+
+Hilliard noticed that as rain-drops fell on the heated globes of the
+street-lamps they were thrown off again in little jets and puffs of
+steam. This phenomenon amused him for several minutes. He wondered
+that he had never observed it before.
+
+Easter Sunday. The day had its importance for a Christian mind. Did
+Eve think about that? Perhaps her association with him, careless as
+he was in all such matters, had helped to blunt her religious
+feeling. Yet what hope was there, in such a world as this, that she
+would retain the pieties of her girlhood?
+
+Easter Sunday. As he walked on, he pondered the Christian story, and
+tried to make something out of it. Had it any significance for
+_him_? Perhaps, for he had never consciously discarded the old
+faith; he had simply let it fall out of his mind. But a woman ought
+to have religious convictions. Yes; he saw the necessity of that.
+Better for him if Eve were in the Town Hall yonder, joining her
+voice with those that sang.
+
+Better for _him_. A selfish point of view. But the advantage would
+be hers also. Did he not desire her happiness? He tried to think so,
+but after all was ashamed to play the sophist with himself. The
+letter he carried in his pocket told the truth. He had but to think
+of her as married to Robert Narramore and the jealous fury of
+natural man drove him headlong.
+
+Monday was again a holiday. When would the cursed people get back to
+their toil, and let the world resume its wonted grind and clang?
+They seemed to have been making holiday for a month past.
+
+He walked up and down on the pavement near his door, until at the
+street corner there appeared a figure he knew. It was Patty
+Ringrose, again unaccompanied.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+They shook hands without a word, their eyes meeting for an instant
+only. Hilliard led the way upstairs; and Patty, still keeping an
+embarrassed silence, sat down on the easy-chair. Her complexion was
+as noticeably fresh as Hilliard's was wan and fatigued. Where
+Patty's skin showed a dimple, his bore a gash, the result of an
+accident in shaving this morning.
+
+With hands behind he stood in front of the girl.
+
+"She chose not to come, then?"
+
+"Yes. She asked me to come and see you alone."
+
+"No pretence of headache this time."
+
+"I don't think it was a pretence," faltered Patty, who looked very
+ill at ease, for all the bloom on her cheeks and the clear, childish
+light in her eyes.
+
+"Well, then, why hasn't she come to-day?"
+
+"She has sent a letter for you, Mr. Hilliard."
+
+Patty handed the missive, and Hilliard laid it upon the table.
+
+"Am I to read it now?"
+
+"I think it's a long letter."
+
+"Feels like it. I'll study it at my leisure. You know what it
+contains?"
+
+Patty nodded, her face turned away.
+
+"And why has she chosen to-day to write to me?" Patty kept silence.
+"Anything to do with the call I had yesterday from my friend
+Narramore?"
+
+"Yes--that's the reason. But she has meant to let you know for
+some time."
+
+Hilliard drew a long breath. He fixed his eyes on the letter.
+
+"She has told me everything," the girl continued, speaking
+hurriedly. "Did you know about it before yesterday?"
+
+"I'm not so good an actor as all that. Eve has the advantage of me
+in that respect. She really thought it possible that Narramore had
+spoken before?"
+
+"She couldn't be sure."
+
+"H'm! Then she didn't know for certain that Narramore was going to
+talk to me about her yesterday?"
+
+"She knew it _must_ come."
+
+"Patty, our friend Miss Madeley is a very sensible person--don't
+you think so?"
+
+"You mustn't think she made a plan to deceive you. She tells you all
+about it in the letter, and I'm quite sure it's all true, Mr.
+Hilliard. I was astonished when I heard of it, and I can't tell you
+how sorry I feel----"
+
+"I'm not at all sure that there's any cause for sorrow," Hilliard
+interrupted, drawing up a chair and throwing himself upon it.
+"Unless you mean that you are sorry for Eve."
+
+"I meant that as well."
+
+"Let us understand each other. How much has she told you?"
+
+"Everything, from beginning to end. I had no idea of what happened
+in London before we went to Paris. And she does so repent of it! She
+doesn't know how she could do it. She wishes you had refused her."
+
+"So do I."
+
+"But you saved her--she can never forget that. You mustn't think
+that she only pretends to be grateful. She will be grateful to you
+as long as she lives. I know she will."
+
+"On condition that I--what?"
+
+Patty gave him a bewildered look.
+
+"What does she ask of me now?"
+
+"She's ashamed to ask anything. She fears you will never speak to
+her again."
+
+Hilliard meditated, then glanced at the letter.
+
+"I had better read this now, I think, if you will let me."
+
+"Yes--please do----"
+
+He tore open the envelope, and disclosed two sheets of note-paper,
+covered with writing. For several minutes there was silence; Patty
+now and then gave a furtive glance at her companion's face as he was
+reading. At length he put the letter down again, softly.
+
+"There's something more here than I expected. Can you tell me
+whether she heard from Narramore this morning?"
+
+"She has had no letter."
+
+"I see. And what does she suppose passed between Narramore and me
+yesterday?"
+
+"She is wondering what you told him."
+
+"She takes it for granted, in this letter, that I have put an end to
+everything between them. Well, hadn't I a right to do so?"
+
+"Of course you had," Patty replied, with emphasis. "And she knew it
+must come. She never really thought that she could marry Mr.
+Narramore. She gave him no promise."
+
+"Only corresponded with him, and made appointments with him, and
+allowed him to feel sure that she would be his wife."
+
+"Eve has behaved very strangely. I can't understand her. She ought
+to have told you that she had been to see him, and that he wrote to
+her. It's always best to be straightforward. See what trouble she
+has got herself into!"
+
+Hilliard took up the letter again, and again there was a long
+silence.
+
+"Have you said good-bye to her?" were his next words.
+
+"She's going to meet me at the station to see me off."
+
+"Did she come from Dudley with you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"It's all very well to make use of you for this disagreeable
+business----"
+
+"Oh, I didn't mind it!" broke in Patty, with irrelevant
+cheerfulness.
+
+"A woman 'who does such things as this should have the courage to go
+through with it. She ought to have come herself, and have told me
+that. She was aiming at much better things than _I_ could have
+promised her. There would have been something to admire in that. The
+worst of it is she is making me feel ashamed of her. I'd rather have
+to do with a woman who didn't care a rap for my feelings than with a
+weak one, who tried to spare me to advantage herself at the same
+time. There's nothing like courage, whether in good or evil. What do
+you think? Does she like Narramore?"
+
+"I think she does," faltered Patty, nervously striking her dress.
+
+"Is she in love with him?"
+
+"I--I really don't know!"
+
+"Do you think she ever was in love with anyone, or ever will be?"
+
+Patty sat mute.
+
+"Just tell me what you think."
+
+"I'm afraid she never--Oh, I don't like to say it, Mr. Hilliard!"
+
+"That she never was in love with _me_? I know it."
+
+His tone caused Patty to look up at him, and what she saw in his
+face made her say quickly:
+
+"I am so sorry; I am indeed! You deserve----"
+
+"Never mind what I deserve," Hilliard interrupted with a grim smile.
+"Something less than hanging, I hope. That fellow in London; she was
+fond of _him_?"
+
+The girl whispered an assent.
+
+"A pity I interfered."
+
+"Ah! But think what----"
+
+"We won't discuss it, Patty. It's a horrible thing to be mad about a
+girl who cares no more for you than for an old glove; but it's a
+fool's part to try to win her by the way of gratitude. When we came
+back from Paris I ought to have gone my way, and left her to go
+hers. Perhaps just possible--if I had seemed to think no more of
+her----"
+
+Patty waited, but he did not finish his speech.
+
+"What are you going to do, Mr. Hilliard?"
+
+"Yes, that's the question. Shall I hold her to her promise? She says
+here that she will keep her word if I demand it."
+
+"She says that!" Patty exclaimed, with startled eyes.
+
+"Didn't you know?"
+
+"She told me it was impossible. But perhaps she didn't mean it. Who
+can tell _what_ she means?"
+
+For the first time there sounded a petulance in the girl's voice.
+Her lips closed tightly, and she tapped with her foot on the floor.
+
+"Did she say that the other thing was also impossible--to marry
+Narramore?"
+
+"She thinks it is, after what you've told him."
+
+"Well, now, as a matter of fact I told him nothing."
+
+Patty stared, a new light in her eyes.
+
+"You told him--nothing?"
+
+"I just let him suppose that I had never heard the girl's name
+before."
+
+"Oh, how kind of you! How----"
+
+"Please to remember that it wasn't very easy to tell the truth. What
+sort of figure should I have made?"
+
+"It's too bad of Eve! It's cruel! I can never like her as I did
+before."
+
+"Oh, she's very interesting. She gives one such a lot to talk
+about."
+
+"I don't like her, and I shall tell her so before I leave
+Birmingham. What right has she to make people so miserable?"
+
+"Only one, after all."
+
+"Do you mean that you will let her marry Mr. Narramore?" Patty asked
+with interest.
+
+"We shall have to talk about that."
+
+"If I were you I should never see her again!"
+
+"The probability is that we shall see each other many a time."
+
+"Then _you_ haven't much courage, Mr. Hilliard!" exclaimed the girl,
+with a flush on her cheeks.
+
+"More than you think, perhaps," he answered between his teeth.
+
+"Men are very strange," Patty commented in a low voice of scorn,
+mitigated by timidity.
+
+"Yes, we play queer pranks when a woman has made a slave of us. I
+suppose you think I should have too much pride to care any more for
+her. The truth is that for years to come I shall tremble all through
+whenever she is near me. Such love as I have felt for Eve won't be
+trampled out like a spark. It's the best and the worst part of my
+life. No woman can ever be to me what Eve is."
+
+Abashed by the grave force of this utterance, Patty shrank back into
+the chair, and held her peace.
+
+"You will very soon know what conies of it all," Hilliard continued
+with a sudden change of voice. "It has to be decided pretty quickly,
+one way or another."
+
+"May I tell Eve what you have said to me?" the girl asked with
+diffidence.
+
+"Yes, anything that I have said."
+
+Patty lingered a little, then, as her companion said no more, she
+rose.
+
+"I must say good-bye, Mr. Hilliard."
+
+"I am afraid your holiday hasn't been as pleasant as you expected."
+
+"Oh, I have enjoyed myself very much. And I hope"--her voice
+wavered--"I do hope it'll be all right. I'm sure you'll do what
+seems best."
+
+"I shall do what I find myself obliged to, Patty. Good-bye. I won't
+offer to go with you, for I should be poor company."
+
+He conducted her to the foot of the stairs, again shook hands with
+her, put all his goodwill into a smile, and watched her trip away
+with a step not so light as usual. Then he returned to Eve's letter.
+It gave him a detailed account of her relations with Narramore. "I
+went to him because I couldn't bear to live idle any longer; I had
+no other thought in my mind. If he had been the means of my finding
+work, I should have confessed it to you at once. But I was tempted
+into answering his letters. . . . I knew I was behaving wrongly; I
+can't defend myself. . . . I have never concealed my faults from you
+--the greatest of them is my fear of poverty. I believe it is this
+that has prevented me from returning your love as I wished to do.
+For a long time I have been playing a deceitful part, and the
+strange thing is that I _knew_ my exposure might come at any moment.
+I seem to have been led on by a sort of despair. Now I am tired of
+it; whether you were prepared for this or not, I must tell you. . . .
+I don't ask you to release me. I have been wronging you and acting
+against my conscience, and if you can forgive me I will try to make
+up for the ill I have done. . . ."
+
+How much of this could he believe? Gladly he would have fooled
+himself into believing it all, but the rational soul in him cast out
+credulity. Every phrase of the letter was calculated for its
+impression. And the very risk she had run, was not that too a matter
+of deliberate speculation? She _might_ succeed in her design upon
+Narramore; if she failed, the 'poorer man was still to be counted
+upon, for she knew the extent of her power over him. It was worth
+the endeavour. Perhaps, in her insolent self-confidence, she did not
+fear the effect on Narramore of the disclosure that might be made to
+him. And who could say that her boldness was not likely to be
+justified?
+
+He burned with wrath against her, the wrath of a hopelessly
+infatuated man. Thoughts of revenge, no matter how ignoble, harassed
+his mind. She counted on his slavish spirit. and even in saying that
+she did not ask him to release her, she saw herself already
+released. At each reperusal of her letter he felt more resolved to
+disappoint the hope that inspired it. When she learnt from Patty
+that Narramore was still ignorant of her history how would she
+exult! But that joy should be brief. In the name of common honesty
+he would protect his friend. If Narramore chose to take her with his
+eyes open----
+
+Jealous frenzy kept him pacing the room for an hour or two. Then he
+went forth and haunted the neighbourhood of New Street station until
+within five minutes of the time of departure of Patty's train. If
+Eve kept her promise to see the girl off he might surprise her upon
+the platform.
+
+From the bridge crossing the lines he surveyed the crowd of people
+that waited by the London train, a bank-holiday train taking back a
+freight of excursionists. There-amid he discovered Eve, noted her
+position, descended to the platform, and got as near to her as
+possible. The train moved off. As Eve turned away among the
+dispersing people, he stepped to meet her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+She gave no sign of surprise. Hilliard read in her face that she had
+prepared herself for this encounter.
+
+"Come away where we can talk," he said abruptly.
+
+She walked by him to a part of the station where only a porter
+passed occasionally. The echoings beneath the vaulted roof allowed
+them to speak without constraint, for their voices were inaudible a
+yard or two off. Hilliard would not look into her face, lest he
+should be softened to foolish clemency.
+
+"It's very kind of you," he began, with no clear purpose save the
+desire of harsh speech, "to ask me to overlook this trifle, and let
+things be as before."
+
+"I have said all I _can_ say in the letter. I deserve all your
+anger."
+
+That was the note he dreaded, the too well remembered note of
+pathetic submission. It reminded him with intolerable force that he
+had never held her by any bond save that of her gratitude.
+
+"Do you really imagine," he exclaimed, "that I could go on with
+make-believe--that I could bring myself to put faith in you again
+for a moment?"
+
+"I don't ask you to," Eve replied, in firmer accents. "I have lost
+what little respect you could ever feel for me. I might have repaid
+you with honesty--I didn't do even that. Say the worst you can of
+me, and I shall think still worse of myself."
+
+The voice overcame him with a conviction of her sincerity, and he
+gazed at her, marvelling.
+
+"Are you honest _now_? Anyone would think so; yet how am I to
+believe it?"
+
+Eve met his eyes steadily.
+
+"I will never again say one word to you that isn't pure truth. I am
+at your mercy, and you may punish me as you like."
+
+"There's only one way in which I can punish you. For the loss of
+_my_ respect, or of my love, you care nothing. If I bring myself to
+tell Narramore disagreeable things about you, you will suffer a
+disappointment, and that's all. The cost to me will be much greater,
+and you know it. You pity yourself. You regard me as holding you
+ungenerously by an advantage you once gave me. It isn't so at all.
+It is I who have been held by bonds I couldn't break, and from the
+day when you pretended a love you never felt, all the blame lay with
+you."
+
+"What could I do?"
+
+"Be truthful--that was all."
+
+"You were not content with the truth. You forced me to think that I
+could love you, Only remember what passed between us."
+
+"Honesty was still possible, when you came to know yourself better.
+You should have said to me in so many words: 'I can't look forward
+to our future with any courage; if I marry it must be a man who has
+more to offer.' Do you think I couldn't have endured to hear that?
+You have never understood me. I should have said: 'Then let us shake
+hands, and I am your friend to help you all I can.'"
+
+"You say that _now_----"
+
+"I should have said it at any time."
+
+"But I am not so mean as you think me. If I loved a man I could face
+poverty with him, much as I hate and dread it. It was because I only
+liked you, and could not feel more----"
+
+"Your love happens to fall upon a man who has solid possessions."
+
+"It's easy to speak so scornfully. I have not pretended to love the
+man you mean."
+
+"Yet you have brought him to think that you are willing to marry
+him."
+
+"Without any word of love from me. If I had been free I would have
+married him--just because I am sick of the life I lead, and long
+for the kind of life he offered me."
+
+"When it's too late you are frank enough."
+
+"Despise me as much as you like. You want the truth, and you shall
+hear nothing else from me."
+
+"Well, we get near to understanding each other. But it astonishes me
+that you spoilt your excellent chance. How could you hope to carry
+through this----"
+
+Eve broke in impatiently.
+
+"I told you in the letter that I had no hope of it. It's your
+mistake to think me a crafty, plotting, selfish woman. I'm only a
+very miserable one--it went on from this to that, and I meant
+nothing. I didn't scheme; I was only tempted into foolishness. I
+felt myself getting into difficulties that would be my ruin, but I
+hadn't strength to draw back."
+
+"You do yourself injustice," said Hilliard, coldly. "For the past
+month you have acted a part before me, and acted it well. You seemed
+to be reconciling yourself to my prospects, indifferent as they
+were. You encouraged me--talked with unusual cheerfulness--
+showed a bright face. If this wasn't deliberate acting what did it
+mean?"
+
+"Yes, it was put on," Eve admitted, after a pause. "But I couldn't
+help that. I was obliged to keep seeing you, and if I had looked as
+miserable as I felt----" She broke off. "I tried to behave just
+like a friend. You can't charge me with pretending--anything else.
+I _could_ be your friend: that was honest feeling."
+
+"It's no use to me. I must have more, or nothing."
+
+The flood of passion surged in him again. Some trick of her voice,
+or some indescribable movement of her head--the trifles which are
+all-powerful over a man in love--beat down his contending reason.
+
+"You say," he continued, "that you will make amends for your unfair
+dealing. If you mean it, take the only course that shows itself.
+Confess to Narramore what you have done; you owe it to him as much
+as to me."
+
+"I can't do that," said Eve, drawing away. "It's for you to tell him
+--if you like."
+
+"No. I had my opportunity, and let it pass. I don't mean that you
+are to inform him of all there has been between us; that's needless.
+We have agreed to forget everything that suggests the word I hate.
+But that you and I have been lovers and looked--I, at all events
+--to be something more, this you must let him know."
+
+"I can never do that."
+
+"Without it, how are you to disentangle yourself?"
+
+"I promise you he shall see no more of me."
+
+"Such a promise is idle, and you know it. Remember, too, that
+Narramore and I are friends. He will speak to me of you, and I can't
+play a farce with him. It would be intolerable discomfort to me, and
+grossly unfair to him. Do, for once, the simple, honourable thing,
+and make a new beginning. After that, be guided by your own
+interests. Assuredly I shall not stand in your way."
+
+Eve had turned her eyes in the direction of crowd and bustle. When
+she faced Hilliard again, he saw that she had come to a resolve.
+
+"There's only one way out of it for me," she said impulsively. "I
+can't talk any longer. I'll write to you."
+
+She moved from him; Hilliard followed. At a distance of half-a-dozen
+yards, just as he was about to address her again, she stopped and
+spoke--
+
+"You hate to hear me talk of 'gratitude.' I have always meant by it
+less than you thought. I was grateful for the money, not for
+anything else. When you took me away, perhaps it was the unkindest
+thing you could have done."
+
+An unwonted vehemence shook her voice. Her muscles were tense; she
+stood in an attitude of rebellious pride.
+
+"If I had been true to myself then----But it isn't too late. If I
+am to act honestly, I know very well what I must do. I will take
+your advice."
+
+Hilliard could not doubt of her meaning. He remembered his last talk
+with Patty. This was a declaration he had not foreseen, and it
+affected him otherwise than he could have anticipated.
+
+"My advice had nothing to do with _that_," was his answer, as he
+read her face. "But I shall say not a word against it. I could
+respect you, at all events."
+
+"Yes, and I had rather have your respect than your love."
+
+With that, she left him. He wished to pursue, but a physical languor
+held him motionless. And when at length he sauntered from the place,
+it was with a sense of satisfaction at what had happened. Let her
+carry out that purpose: he faced it, preferred it. Let her be lost
+to him in that way rather than any other. It cut the knot, and left
+him with a memory of Eve that would not efface her dishonouring
+weakness.
+
+Late at night, he walked about the streets near his home, debating
+with himself whether she would act as she spoke, or had only sought
+to frighten him with a threat. And still he hoped that her resolve
+was sincere. He could bear that conclusion of their story better
+than any other--unless it were her death. Better a thousand times
+than her marriage with Narramore.
+
+In the morning, fatigue gave voice to conscience. He had bidden her
+go, when, perchance, a word would have checked her. Should he write,
+or even go to her straightway and retract what he had said? His will
+prevailed, and he did nothing.
+
+The night that followed plagued him with other misgivings. It seemed
+more probable now that she had threatened what she would never have
+the courage to perform. She meant it at the moment--it declared a
+truth but an hour after she would listen to commonplace morality or
+prudence. Narramore would write to her; she might, perhaps, see him
+again. She would cling to the baser hope.
+
+Might but the morrow bring him a letter from London!
+
+It brought nothing; and day after day disappointed him. More than a
+week passed: he was ill with suspense, but could take no step for
+setting his mind at rest. Then, as he sat one morning at his work in
+the architect's office, there arrived a telegram addressed to him--
+
+"I must see you as soon as possible. Be here before six.--
+Narramore."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+"What the devil does this mean, Hilliard?"
+
+If never before, the indolent man was now thoroughly aroused. He had
+an open letter in his hand. Hilliard, standing before him in a
+little office that smelt of ledgers and gum, and many other
+commercial things, knew that the letter must be from Eve, and
+savagely hoped that it was dated London.
+
+"This is from Miss Madeley, and it's all about you. Why couldn't you
+speak the other day?"
+
+"What does she say about me?"
+
+"That she has known you for a long time; that you saw a great deal
+of each other in London; that she has led you on with a hope of
+marrying her, though she never really meant it; in short, that she
+has used you very ill, and feels obliged now to make a clean breast
+of it."
+
+The listener fixed his eye upon a copying-press, but without seeing
+it. A grim smile began to contort his lips.
+
+"Where does she write from?"
+
+"From her ordinary address--why not? I think this is rather too
+bad of you. Why didn't you speak, instead of writhing about and
+sputtering? That kind of thing is all very well--sense of honour
+and all that--but it meant that I was being taken in. Between
+friends--hang it! Of course I have done with her. I shall write at
+once. It's amazing; it took away my breath. No doubt, though she
+doesn't say it, it was from you that she came to know of me. She
+began with a lie. And who the devil could have thought it! Her face
+--her way of talking! This will cut me up awfully. Of course, I'm
+sorry for you, too, but it was your plain duty to let me know what
+sort of a woman I had got hold of. Nay, it's she that has got hold
+of me, confound her! I don't feel myself! I'm thoroughly knocked
+over!"
+
+Hilliard began humming an air. He crossed the room and sat down.
+
+"Have you seen her since that Saturday?"
+
+"No; she has made excuses, and I guessed something was wrong. What
+has been going on? _You_ have seen her?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+Narramore glared.
+
+"It's devilish underhand behaviour! Look here, old fellow, we're nut
+going to quarrel. No woman is worth a quarrel between two old
+friends. But just speak out--can't you? What did you mean by
+keeping it from me?"
+
+"It meant that I had nothing to say," Hilliard replied, through his
+moustache.
+
+"You kept silence out of spite, then? You said to yourself, 'Let him
+marry her and find out afterwards what she really is!'"
+
+"Nothing of the kind." He looked up frankly. "I saw no reason for
+speaking. She accuses herself without a shadow of reason; it's mere
+hysterical conscientiousness. We have known each other for half a
+year or so, and I have made love to her, but I never had the least
+encouragement. I knew all along she didn't care for me. How is she
+to blame? A girl is under no obligation to speak of all the men who
+have wanted to marry her, provided she has done nothing to be
+ashamed of. There's just one bit of insincerity. It's true she knew
+of you from me. But she looked you up because she despaired of
+finding employment; she was at an end of her money, didn't know what
+to do. I have heard this since I saw you last. It wasn't quite
+straightforward, but one can forgive it in a girl hard driven by
+necessity."
+
+Narramore was listening with eagerness, his lips parted, and a
+growing hope in his eyes.
+
+"There never was anything serious between you?"
+
+"On her side, never for a moment. I pursued and pestered her, that
+was all."
+
+"Do you mind telling me who the girl was that I saw you with at
+Dudley?"
+
+"A friend of Miss Madeley's, over here from London on a holiday. I
+have tried to make use of her--to get her influence on my side
+----"
+
+Narramore sprang from the corner of the table on which he had been
+sitting.
+
+"Why couldn't she hold her tongue! That's just like a woman, to keep
+a thing quiet when she ought to speak of it, and bring it out when
+she had far better say nothing. I feel as if I had treated you
+badly, Hilliard. And the way you take it--I'd rather you eased
+your mind by swearing at me."
+
+"I could swear hard enough. I could grip you by the throat and jump
+on you----"
+
+"No, I'm hanged if you could!" He forced a laugh. "And I shouldn't
+advise you to try. Here, give me your hand instead." He seized it.
+"We're going to talk this over like two reasonable beings. Does this
+girl know her own mind? It seems to me from this letter that she
+wants to get rid of me."
+
+"You must find out whether she does or not."
+
+"Do you _think_ she does?"
+
+"I refuse to think about it at all."
+
+"You mean she isn't worth troubling about? Tell the truth, and be
+hanged to you! Is she the kind of a girl a man may marry?"
+
+"For all I know."
+
+"Do you suspect her?" Narramore urged fiercely.
+
+"She'll marry a rich man rather than a poor one--that's the worst
+I think of her."
+
+"What woman won't?"
+
+When question and answer had revolved about this point for another
+quarter of an hour, Hilliard brought the dialogue to an end. He was
+clay-colour, and perspiration stood on his forehead.
+
+"You must make her out without any more help from me. I tell you the
+letter is all nonsense, and I can say no more."
+
+He moved towards the exit.
+
+"One thing I must know, Hilliard--Are you going to see her again?"
+
+"Never--if I can help it."
+
+"Can we be friends still?"
+
+"If you never mention her name to me."
+
+Again they shook hands, eyes crossing in a smile of shamed
+hostility. And the parting was for more than a twelvemonth.
+
+Late in August, when Hilliard was thinking of a week's rest in the
+country. after a spell of harder and more successful work than he
+had ever previously known, he received a letter from Patty Ringrose.
+
+"Dear Mr. Hilliard," wrote the girl, "I have just heard from Eve
+that she is to be married to Mr. Narramore in a week's time. She
+says you don't know about it; but I think you _ought_ to know. I
+haven't been able to make anything of her two last letters, but she
+has written plainly at last. Perhaps she means me to tell you. Will
+you let me have a line? I should like to know whether you care much,
+and I do so hope you don't! I felt sure it would come to this, and
+if you'll believe me, it's just as well. I haven't answered her
+letter, and I don't know whether I shall. I might say disagreeable
+things. Everything is the same with me and always will be, I
+suppose." In conclusion, she was his sincerely. A postscript
+remarked: "They tell me I play better. I've been practising a great
+deal, just to kill the time."
+
+"Dear Miss Ringrose," he responded, "I am very glad to know that Eve
+is to be comfortably settled for life. By all means answer her
+letter, and by all means keep from saying disagreeable things. It is
+never wise to quarrel with prosperous friends, and why should you?
+With every good wish----" he remained sincerely hers.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+When Hilliard and his friend again shook hands it was the autumn of
+another year. Not even by chance had they encountered in the
+interval and no written message had passed between them. Their
+meeting was at a house newly acquired by the younger of the Birching
+brothers, who, being about to marry, summoned his bachelor familiars
+to smoke their pipes in the suburban abode while yet his rule there
+was undisputed. With Narramore he had of late resumed the friendship
+interrupted by Miss Birching's displeasure, for that somewhat
+imperious young lady, now the wife of an elderly ironmaster, moved
+in other circles; and Hilliard's professional value, which was
+beginning to be recognised by the Birchings otherwise than in the
+way of compliment, had overcome the restraints at first imposed by
+his dubious social standing.
+
+They met genially, without a hint of estrangement.
+
+"Your wife well?" Hilliard took an opportunity of asking apart.
+
+"Thanks, she's getting all right again. At Llandudno just now. Glad
+to see that you're looking so uncommonly fit."
+
+Hilliard had undoubtedly improved in personal appearance. He grew a
+beard, which added to his seeming age, but suited with his features;
+his carriage was more upright than of old.
+
+A week or two after this, Narramore sent a friendly note--
+
+"Shall I see you at Birching's on Sunday? My wife will be there, to
+meet Miss Marks and some other people. Come if you can, old fellow.
+I should take it as a great kindness."
+
+And Hilliard went. In the hall he was confronted by Narramore, who
+shook hands with him rather effusively, and said a few words in an
+undertone.
+
+"She's out in the garden. Will be delighted to see you. Awfully good
+of you, old boy! Had to come sooner or later, you know."
+
+Not quite assured of this necessity, and something less than
+composed, Hilliard presently passed through the house into the large
+walled garden behind it. Here he was confusedly aware of a group of
+ladies, not one of whom, on drawing nearer, did he recognise. A
+succession of formalities discharged, he heard his friend's voice
+saying--
+
+"Hilliard, let me introduce you to my wife."
+
+There before him stood Eve. He had only just persuaded himself of
+her identity; his eyes searched her countenance with wonder which
+barely allowed him to assume a becoming attitude. But Mrs. Narramore
+was perfect in society's drill. She smiled very sweetly, gave her
+hand, said what the occasion demanded. Among the women present--
+all well bred--she suffered no obscurement. Her voice was tuned to
+the appropriate harmony; her talk invited to an avoidance of the
+hackneyed.
+
+Hilliard revived his memories of Gower Place--of the streets of
+Paris. Nothing preternatural had come about; nothing that he had not
+forecasted in his hours of hope. But there were incidents in the
+past which this moment blurred away into the region of dreamland,
+and which he shrank from the effort of reinvesting with credibility.
+
+"This is a pleasant garden."
+
+Eve had approached him as he stood musing, after a conversation with
+other ladies.
+
+"Rather new, of course; but a year will do wonders. Have you seen
+the chrysanthemums?"
+
+She led him apart, as they stood regarding the flowers, Hilliard was
+surprised by words that fell from her.
+
+"Your contempt for me is beyond expression, isn't it?"
+
+"It is the last feeling I should associate with you," he answered.
+
+"Oh, but be sincere. We have both learnt to speak another language
+--you no less than I. Let me hear a word such as you used to speak.
+I know you despise me unutterably."
+
+"You are quite mistaken. I admire you very much."
+
+"What--my skill? Or my dress?"
+
+"Everything. You have become precisely what you were meant to be."
+
+"Oh, the scorn of that!"
+
+"I beg you not to think it for a moment. There was a time when I
+might have found a foolish pleasure in speaking to you with sarcasm.
+But that has long gone by."
+
+"What am I, then?"
+
+"An English lady--with rather more intellect than most."
+
+Eve flushed with satisfaction.
+
+"It's more than kind of you to say that. But you always had a
+generous spirit. I never thanked you. Not one poor word. I was
+cowardly--afraid to write. And you didn't care for my thanks."
+
+"I do now."
+
+"Then I thank you. With all my heart, again and again!"
+
+Her voice trembled under fulness of meaning.
+
+"You find life pleasant?"
+
+"You do, I hope?" she answered, as they paced on.
+
+"Not unpleasant, at all events. I am no longer slaving under the
+iron gods. I like my work, and it promises to reward me."
+
+Eve made a remark about a flower-bed. Then her voice subdued again.
+
+"How do you look back on your great venture--your attempt to make
+the most that could be made of a year in your life?"
+
+"Quite contentedly. It was worth doing, and is worth remembering."
+
+"Remember, if you care to," Eve resumed, "that all I am and have I
+owe to you. I was all but lost--all but a miserable captive for
+the rest of my life. You came and ransomed me. A less generous man
+would have spoilt his work at the last moment. But you were large
+minded enough to support my weakness till I was safe."
+
+Hilliard smiled for answer.
+
+"You and Robert are friends again?"
+
+"Perfectly."
+
+She turned, and they rejoined the company.
+
+A week later Hilliard went down into the country, to a quiet spot
+where he now and then refreshed his mind after toil in Birmingham.
+He slept at a cottage, and on the Sunday morning walked idly about
+the lanes.
+
+A white frost had suddenly hastened the slow decay of mellow autumn.
+Low on the landscape lay a soft mist, dense enough to conceal
+everything at twenty yards away, but suffused with golden sunlight;
+overhead shone the clear blue sky. Roadside trees and hedges, their
+rich tints softened by the medium through which they were discerned,
+threw shadows of exquisite faintness. A perfect quiet possessed the
+air, but from every branch, as though shaken by some invisible hand,
+dead foliage dropped to earth in a continuous shower; softly
+pattering from beech to maple, or with the heavier fall of
+ash-leaves, while at long intervals sounded the thud of apples
+tumbling from a crab-tree. Thick-clustered berries arrayed the
+hawthorns, the briar was rich in scarlet fruit; everywhere the frost
+had left the adornment of its subtle artistry. Each leaf upon the
+hedge shone silver-outlined; spiders' webs, woven from stein to
+stem, glistened in the morning radiance; the grasses by the way side
+stood stark in gleaming mail.
+
+And Maurice Hilliard, a free man in his own conceit, sang to himself
+a song of the joy of life.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of Eve's Ransom, by George Gissing
+
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