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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/4297-h.zip b/4297-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..932c28f --- /dev/null +++ b/4297-h.zip diff --git a/4297-h/4297-h.htm b/4297-h/4297-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bcaaef6 --- /dev/null +++ b/4297-h/4297-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11495 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of Eve's Ransom, by George Gissing +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Eve's Ransom, by George Gissing + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Eve's Ransom + +Author: George Gissing + +Posting Date: July 7, 2009 [EBook #4297] +Release Date: July, 2003 +First Posted: January 1, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVE'S RANSOM *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +EVE'S RANSOM +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +by +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +George Gissing +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="100%"> +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%"> +<A HREF="#chap01">CHAPTER I</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%"> +<A HREF="#chap02">CHAPTER II</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%"> +<A HREF="#chap03">CHAPTER III</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%"> +<A HREF="#chap04">CHAPTER IV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%"> +<A HREF="#chap05">CHAPTER V</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">CHAPTER VI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">CHAPTER VII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">CHAPTER IX</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">CHAPTER X</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">CHAPTER XI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">CHAPTER XII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">CHAPTER XV</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">CHAPTER XVI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">CHAPTER XVII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">CHAPTER XVIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">CHAPTER XIX</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">CHAPTER XX</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">CHAPTER XXI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">CHAPTER XXII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">CHAPTER XXIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">CHAPTER XXIV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">CHAPTER XXV</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">CHAPTER XXVI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap27">CHAPTER XXVII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +Tickets were collected, for there would be no stoppage before +Birmingham: then the door slammed, and the two men were alone together. +</P> + +<P> +Two or three minutes after the train had started, the elder man leaned +forward, moved slightly, and spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me, I think your name must be Hilliard." +</P> + +<P> +"What then?" was the brusque reply. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't remember me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Scoundrels are common enough," returned the other, crossing his legs, +"but I remember you for all that." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +The young man laughed contemptuously. He was tall, but slightly built, +and had delicate hands. +</P> + +<P> +"So you've turned out a blackguard, have you?" pursued his companion, +whose name was Dengate. "I heard something about that." +</P> + +<P> +"From whom?" +</P> + +<P> +"You drink, I am told. I suppose that's your condition now." +</P> + +<P> +"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. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean by your insulting talk, then? I spoke to you civilly." +</P> + +<P> +"And I answered as I thought fit." +</P> + +<P> +The respectable citizen sat with his hands on his knees, and +scrutinised the other's sallow features. +</P> + +<P> +"You've been drinking, I can see. I had something to say to you, but +I'd better leave it for another time." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard flashed a look of scorn, and said sternly— +</P> + +<P> +"I am as sober as you are." +</P> + +<P> +"Then just give me civil answers to civil questions." +</P> + +<P> +"Questions? What right have you to question me?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's for your own advantage. You called me scoundrel. What did you +mean by that?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's the name I give to fellows who go bankrupt to get rid of their +debts." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"A disagreeable habit of telling the truth." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"If you gave them the whole, it would be no great generosity." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +There was a force of meaning in these words, quietly as they were +uttered, which impressed the listener. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll come to a bad end, my lad." +</P> + +<P> +"Hardly. It's unlikely that I shall ever be rich." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Please keep your sorrow to yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"All right, all right! I understand you're a draughtsman at Kenn and +Bodditch's?" +</P> + +<P> +"I daresay you are capable of understanding that." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard planted his elbow in the window of the carriage and propped +his cheek on his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; and a few other things," rejoined the well-dressed man. "How to +make money, for instance.—Well, haven't you any insult ready?" +</P> + +<P> +The other looked out at a row of flaring chimneys, which the train was +rushing past: he kept silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Go down to Liverpool," pursued Dengate, "and make inquiries about me. +You'll find I have as good a reputation as any man living." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Paying one's debts," said Hilliard, "is fatal to reputation." +</P> + +<P> +"You use words you don't understand. There's no such thing as a debt, +except what's recognised by the laws." +</P> + +<P> +"I shouldn't wonder if you think of going into Parliament. You are just +the man to make laws." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"It was because I understood it already that I called you a scoundrel." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard fixed the speaker with his scornful eyes; the last words had +moved him to curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mind you own business." +</P> + +<P> +"All right. I suppose it's about two pounds a week. Would you like to +know what <I>my</I> 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." +</P> + +<P> +"And forgetting to pay your debts," threw in the young man. +</P> + +<P> +"It's eight years since I owed any man a penny. The people I <I>did</I> 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." +</P> + +<P> +"You paid tuppence ha'penny in the pound." +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>meant</I> to pay him—understand that." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't believe me," added Dengate. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm listening." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +For a few seconds there was unbroken stillness. The men gazed at each +other, Dengate superbly triumphant, Hilliard incredulous but betraying +excitement. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +The train began to move on. Hilliard had uncrossed his legs, and sat +bending forward, his eyes on vacancy. +</P> + +<P> +"Does that alter your opinion of me?" asked the other. +</P> + +<P> +"I sha'n't believe it till I have cashed the cheque." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard seemed not to hear this. Again he fixed his eyes on the +other's countenance. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you say you are going to pay me four hundred pounds?" he asked +slowly. +</P> + +<P> +"Four hundred and thirty-six. You'll go to the devil with it, but +that's no business of mine." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't a joke. And one thing I have to tell <I>you</I>. I reserve to +myself the right of thrashing you, if I feel in the humour for it." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +He knocked at a door, and was answered by a girl, who nodded +recognition. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Hilliard in? Just tell her I'm here." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"I expected you sooner." +</P> + +<P> +"Business kept me back. Well, little girl?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"No bad news, I hope!" he remarked aside to her, as he took his place +at the table. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no. I'll tell you afterwards." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what is it?" asked her brother-in-law, much as he might have +spoken to the little girl. +</P> + +<P> +"I have something very serious to talk about, Maurice." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you? All right; go ahead." +</P> + +<P> +"I—I am so very much afraid I shall offend you." +</P> + +<P> +The young man laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Not very likely. I can take a good deal from you." +</P> + +<P> +She stood with her hands on the back of the chair, and as he looked at +her, Hilliard saw her pale cheeks grow warm. +</P> + +<P> +"It'll seem very strange to you, Maurice." +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing will seem strange after an adventure I've had this afternoon. +You shall hear about it presently." +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me your story first." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"He has <I>paid</I> it? Oh! really?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +He tossed the piece of paper into the air with boyish glee, and only +just caught it as it was fluttering into the fire. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, be careful!" cried Mrs. Hilliard. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Maurice, how <I>can</I> you——?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, here's the money; and half of it is yours." +</P> + +<P> +"Mine? Oh, no! After all you have given me. Besides, I sha'n't want it." +</P> + +<P> +"How's that?" +</P> + +<P> +Their eyes mete Hilliard again saw the flush in her cheeks, and began +to guess its explanation. He looked puzzled, interested. +</P> + +<P> +"Do I know him?" was his next inquiry. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"It all depends. Who is the man?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +"Stop a minute. Is <I>that</I> the real reason? If so——" +</P> + +<P> +Hurriedly she interposed. +</P> + +<P> +"That was only one of the reasons—only one." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well. Most likely you are doing a wise thing. And half this money +is yours; you'll find it useful." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"He is here," she murmured. "I thought I should like you to meet him +this evening. Do you mind?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +The mother glanced doubtfully at her future husband, but Marr again +spoke with emphasis. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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!" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Hollo! You?" he exclaimed, without rising. "I was going to write to +you; thanks for saving me the trouble. Have something to eat?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and to drink likewise." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mind ringing the bell? I believe there's a bottle of Burgundy +left. If not, plenty of Bass." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell them to lay out the truckle-bed," said Hilliard, when he had +pulled the bell. "I shall stay here to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"How's that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Emily's going to take a second husband—that's one thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Heaven be praised! Better than one could have looked for." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard related the circumstances. Then he drew from his pocket an +oblong slip of paper, and held it out. +</P> + +<P> +"Dengate?" cried his friend. "How the deuce did you get hold of this?" +</P> + +<P> +Explanation followed. They debated Dengate's character and motives. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, we all have candid friends that talk about us. +</P> + +<P> +"It's true I have been drunk now and then of late. There's much to be +said for getting drunk." +</P> + +<P> +"Much," assented Narramore, philosophically. +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard went on with his supper; his friend puffed tobacco, and idly +regarded the cheque he was still holding. +</P> + +<P> +"And what are you going to do?" he asked at length. +</P> + +<P> +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— +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to live." +</P> + +<P> +"Wait a minute. We'll have the table cleared, and a kettle on the fire." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you sit down?" said Narramore. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I can't." +</P> + +<P> +"What a fellow you are! With nerves like yours, I should have been in +my grave years ago. You're going to live, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Something to be said for that," commented the listener, in his tone of +drowsy impartiality. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Undoubtedly." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I was rather afraid of that," said Narramore musingly. +</P> + +<P> +He let a minute elapse, whilst his friend paced the room; then added in +the same voice: +</P> + +<P> +"We're in luck at the same tune. My uncle Sol was found dead this +morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you come in for much?" +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +His wrathful imagination led him to grotesque ideas which ended in +laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I have a year or two before me. I'll know what enjoyment means. +And afterwards——" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; what afterwards?" +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>you</I> do if you come in for a lot of money?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard, the while, had tossed off his second tumbler. He began to +talk at random. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not very much, if you're particular about your wine." +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +He checked himself. Narramore looked at him with curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I daresay," muttered the other. "Yes, it <I>is</I> 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." +</P> + +<P> +"As they nearly always are." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, nearly always." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +Just as the last glimmer of daylight vanished from his room there +sounded a knock at the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Your tea's ready, Mr. Hilliard," called a woman's voice. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Eve Madeley." He repeated the name to himself, and liked it. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Is she"—he was about to add, "in service?" but could not voice the +words. "She has an engagement in London?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"You say she had a lot of trouble?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Was it a large family?" Hilliard inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>her</I>, 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." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard's interest waxed. +</P> + +<P> +"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. +</P> + +<P> +"So there remained only Eve and her brother?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Does she seem to be happier now?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard allowed this suggestion to pass without remark. He was not +quite sure that he desired to know Miss Madeley's address. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"I will certainly call and leave your message," he said. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +At breakfast, the sight of Mrs. Brewer's album tempted him to look once +more at the portrait, but he did not yield. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall we ever see you again, I wonder?" asked his landlady, when the +moment arrived for leave-taking. +</P> + +<P> +"If I am ever again in Dudley, I shall come here," he answered kindly. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<P> +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!" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +This morning, whilst he sat over his bowl of coffee and <I>petit pain</I>, a +certain recollection haunted him persistently. Yesterday, in turning +out his pockets, he had come upon a scrap of paper, whereon was written: +</P> + +<P> +"93, Belmont Street, Chalk Farm Road, London, N.W." +</P> + +<P> +This formula it was which now kept running through his mind, like a +refrain which will not be dismissed. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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 this 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? +</P> + +<P> +Possibly he would not desire it. Eve in her own person might disenchant +him. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Madeley <I>did</I> live here," she said, "but she's been gone a month +or more." +</P> + +<P> +"Can you tell me where she is living now?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you know where she is, or was, employed?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Was you asking for Miss Madeley, Sir?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I was; do you know anything of her?" +</P> + +<P> +"My mother did washing for her, and when she moved I had to take some +things of hers to the new address." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you remember it?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a goodish way from 'ere, Sir. Shall I go with you?" +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard understood. Like the good Samaritan of old, he took out +twopence. The face of the dirty little girl brightened wonderfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me the address; that will be enough." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know Gower Place, Sir?" +</P> + +<P> +"Somewhere near Gower Street, I suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe Miss Madeley lives here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, she does." +</P> + +<P> +"She is not at home just now?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. She went out after breakfast, and I'm sure I can't say when she'll +be back." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard felt a slight wonder at this uncertainty. The young woman, +observing his expression, added with vivacious friendliness: +</P> + +<P> +"Do you want to see her on business?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; a private matter." +</P> + +<P> +This occasioned a smirk. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think I'll call again." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you expect to find her at 'ome now?" asked the young woman, whose +curiosity grew more eager as she watched Hilliard's countenance. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," he replied, neglecting the question, "I should find her here +to-morrow morning?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I can say as someone's going to call, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Please do so." +</P> + +<P> +Therewith he turned away, anxious to escape a volley of interrogation +for which the landlady's tongue was primed. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +In the meantime he had to find quarters for himself. Why not seek them +in Gower Place? +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"I told you we should be late," exclaimed the unknown girl, in friendly +remonstrance. +</P> + +<P> +"What does it matter?" replied Eve—if Eve it were. "I hate standing at +the doors. We shall find seats somewhere." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"The 'bus will take a long time." +</P> + +<P> +"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!" +</P> + +<P> +"I say, Eve, you <I>are</I> going it!" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"I say, Eve, you <I>are</I> going it!" Why, there his doubt was settled; the +name confirmed him in his identification. But he stood motionless with +astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +Eve Madeley—the meek, the melancholy, the long-suffering, the +pious—what did it all mean? +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +At eleven o'clock he was sitting by his bedroom window, in darkness, +watching the house across the way. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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— +</P> + +<P> +"Healtheries; third return." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +The music ceased, whereupon Eve's companion again consulted his watch. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a most unfortunate thing." He was audible now. "I can't possibly +stay longer." +</P> + +<P> +Eve moved on her chair, as if in readiness to take leave of him, but +she did not speak. +</P> + +<P> +"You think it likely you will meet Miss Ringrose?" +</P> + +<P> +Eve answered, but the listener could not catch her words. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm so very sorry. If there had been any——" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard called for a bottle of ale: he was consumed with thirst. +</P> + +<P> +"Dare I approach her?" he asked himself. "Is it possible? And, if +possible, is it any use?" +</P> + +<P> +The difficulty was to explain his recognition of her. But for that, he +might justify himself in addressing her. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Madeley——" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"I am a stranger to you," Hilliard managed to say. "But I come from +Dudley; I know some of your friends——" +</P> + +<P> +His hurried words fell into coherence. At the name "Dudley" Eve's +features relaxed. +</P> + +<P> +"Was it you who called at my lodgings the day before yesterday?" +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +"But you <I>didn't</I> leave the message." +</P> + +<P> +The smile put Hilliard at his ease, it was so gentle and friendly. +</P> + +<P> +"I wasn't able to come at the time I mentioned. I should have called +to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps in the train this evening?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes so it was You knew me then?" +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard had not ventured to seat himself; he stood before her, head +respectfully bent. +</P> + +<P> +"At Mrs. Brewer's I saw your portrait." +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes fell. +</P> + +<P> +"My portrait. You really could recognise me from that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, readily! Will you allow me to sit down?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Mysteries still!" exclaimed Eve. "The people <I>there</I> couldn't know +where I had gone to." +</P> + +<P> +"A child who had carried some parcel for you to Gower Place volunteered +information." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +She rested her arms on the little round table. +</P> + +<P> +"So Mrs. Brewer asked you to come and find me?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard was now in command of himself; he spoke with simple +directness, as his desires dictated. +</P> + +<P> +"And Mrs. Brewer," said Eve, with averted eyes, "told you about me?" +</P> + +<P> +"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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going back to it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not just yet. I have been in France, and I may go abroad again before +long." +</P> + +<P> +"For your pleasure?" Eve asked, with interest. +</P> + +<P> +"To answer 'Yes' wouldn't quite express what I mean. I am learning to +live." +</P> + +<P> +She hastily searched his face for the interpretation of these words, +then looked away, with grave, thoughtful countenance. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Eve regarded him strangely, with wide, in tent eyes, as though his +speech had made a peculiar impression upon her. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you see any sense in that?" he asked, smiling. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. I think I understand you." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you always lived at Dudley?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, there you are! I have been hunting for you ever so long." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"This gentleman is from my part of the world—from Dudley. Mr. +Hilliard—Miss Ringrose." +</P> + +<P> +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— +</P> + +<P> +"Do you really come from Dudley?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do really, Miss Ringrose. Why does it sound strange to you?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Miss Ringrose." +</P> + +<P> +"No, but really—what sort of a place is Dudley? Is it true that they +call it the Black Country?" +</P> + +<P> +"Let us walk about," interposed Eve. "Mr. Hilliard will tell you all he +can about the Black Country." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +Before long she declared that it was time to go home. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the hurry?" said her friend. "It's nothing like ten o'clock +yet—is it, Mr. Hilliard?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't wish to stay any longer. Of course you needn't go unless you +like, Patty." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"But I hope you will let me see you again?" +</P> + +<P> +"As you live so near me," she answered, "we are pretty sure to meet. +Are you coming or not, Patty?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, of course I shall go if you do." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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 <I>are</I> 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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you let me walk a little way with you?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"Beautiful? I'm not sure that I see much beauty." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"You never go into the country?" he said, feeling unable to join in her +praise of London, though it was intelligible enough to him. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"There's a young lady wishes to see you, Sir. Miss Ringrose is the +name." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard sprang up. +</P> + +<P> +"Please ask her to come in." +</P> + +<P> +The woman eyed him in a manner he was too excited to understand. +</P> + +<P> +"She would like to speak to you at the door, Sir, if you wouldn't mind +going out." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Mr. Hilliard—I didn't know your number—I've been to a lot of +houses asking for you——" +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" he inquired, going out on to the doorstep. +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard stared at the house opposite. +</P> + +<P> +"I? I know nothing whatever about it. Come in and tell me——" +</P> + +<P> +"If you wouldn't mind coming out——" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes. One moment; I'll get my hat." +</P> + +<P> +He rejoined the girl, and they turned in the direction of Euston +Square, where people were few. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Why did you feel anxious? What has been going on?" +</P> + +<P> +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: +</P> + +<P> +"It's something I can't explain. But as you were a friend of hers——" +</P> + +<P> +A man came by, and Patty broke off. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<P> +Hilliard waited for her to continue, but Patty kept her eyes down and +said no more. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you think," he asked, "that I was likely to be in Miss Madeley's +confidence?" +</P> + +<P> +"You've known her a long time, haven't you?" +</P> + +<P> +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: +</P> + +<P> +"May she not simply have changed her lodgings?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why should she go so suddenly, and without letting me know?" +</P> + +<P> +"What had the landlady to say?" +</P> + +<P> +"She heard her tell the cab to drive to Mudie's—the library, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Patty admitted this possibility, but with every sign of doubt. +</P> + +<P> +"The landlady said she had a letter this morning." +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I have not. But surely you will hear from her very soon. You may even +get a letter tonight, or to-morrow morning." +</P> + +<P> +Patty gave a little spring of hopefulness. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; a letter might come by the last post to-night. I'll go home at +once." +</P> + +<P> +"And I will come with you," said Hilliard. "Then you can tell me +whether you have any news." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"You must have wondered what <I>ever</I> 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." +</P> + +<P> +"How long have you known her?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, ever so long—about a year." +</P> + +<P> +The temptation to make another inquiry was too strong for Hilliard. +</P> + +<P> +"Where has she been employed of late?" +</P> + +<P> +Patty looked up at him with surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't find another engagement?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +In High Street Patty entered a small shop which was on the point of +being closed for the night. +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard waited for her a few yards away; on her return he saw at once +that she was disappointed. +</P> + +<P> +"There's nothing!" +</P> + +<P> +"It may come in the morning. I should like to know whether you hear or +not." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I will come to-morrow at that time." +</P> + +<P> +"Do, please? If I haven't heard anything I shall be that nervous." +</P> + +<P> +They talked to no purpose for a few minutes, and bade each other +good-night. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all right! I had a letter this morning. She <I>has</I> gone to Dudley." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! I am glad to hear it. Any reason given?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"So your alarm was groundless." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—I didn't really feel alarmed, Mr. Hilliard. You mustn't think +that. I often do silly things." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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 +<I>you</I> play billiards?" +</P> + +<P> +The other shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought not. You have a serious look." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"What are <I>you</I> doing here at this time of day?" she asked familiarly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—business—had to look up a man over here. Thought I'd speak a word +as I passed." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard drew aside. +</P> + +<P> +"Who has opened this new shop opposite?" added the young man, beckoning +from the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm very sorry to have been in the way," said Hilliard, smiling. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +She sat down and rattled over this exhilarating masterpiece. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," said Hilliard. "You play very cleverly." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, so can anybody—that's nothing." +</P> + +<P> +"Does Miss Madeley play at all?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"She reads a good deal, I suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I should think she does, just! And she can speak French." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed? How did she learn?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"And will she come back to her old lodgings?" he inquired. +</P> + +<P> +Patty shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard hesitated in putting the next question. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you still feel anxious about her?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl met his eyes for an instant. +</P> + +<P> +"No. It's all right now." +</P> + +<P> +"There's one thing I should like you to tell me—if you can." +</P> + +<P> +"About Miss Madeley?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think there can be any harm in your saying yes or no. Is she +engaged to be married?" +</P> + +<P> +Patty replied with a certain eagerness. +</P> + +<P> +"No! Indeed she isn't. And she never has been." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you." Hilliard gave a sigh of relief. "I'm very glad to know +that." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course you are," Patty answered, with a laugh. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll see her before long, I dare say?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps. I don't know." +</P> + +<P> +"At all events, you'll <I>want</I> to see her." +</P> + +<P> +"Most likely." +</P> + +<P> +"Will you promise me something?" +</P> + +<P> +"If it's in my power to keep the promise." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't speak of it." +</P> + +<P> +"Quite sure?" +</P> + +<P> +"You may depend upon me. Would you rather she didn't know that I have +seen you at all?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, there's no harm in that. I should be sure to let it out. I shall +say we met by chance somewhere." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well. I feel tempted to ask a promise iii return." +</P> + +<P> +Patty stood with her hands behind her, eyes wide and lips slightly +apart. +</P> + +<P> +"It is this," he continued, lowering his voice. "If ever you should +begin to feel anxious again about her will you let me know?" +</P> + +<P> +Her reply was delayed; it came at length in the form of an embarrassed +nod. Thereupon Hilliard pressed her hand and departed. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"You have been away," he said, when they were in their places, he at +one side of Eve, Patty on the other. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. At Dudley." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you see Mrs. Brewer?" +</P> + +<P> +"Several times. She hasn't got another lodger yet, and wishes you would +go back again. A most excellent character she gave you." +</P> + +<P> +This sounded satirical. +</P> + +<P> +"I deserved the best she could say of me," Hilliard answered. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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!" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +How cheap it was—five guineas for so much instant delight and such +boundless joy of anticipation! +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +Eve Madeley perceived him without surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he said, "I am here again. If it's disagreeable to you, tell me, +and I will go my own way at once." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"No, let us walk straight on." +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't do that." +</P> + +<P> +"Where's the impossibility?" +</P> + +<P> +"I shouldn't like to do it." +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +Eve walked on in silence; his entreaties kept pace with her. At length +she stopped. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all the same to me—if you wish it——" +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you a thousand times!" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"You would rather be here than going home in the Camden Town 'bus?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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!" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you know anyone else who would come with you? Haven't you made +any friends?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not one. You and Miss Ringrose are the only persons I know in London." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't understand why you live in that way." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Eve averted her eyes, and again seemed to meditate. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"In my position," said Hilliard at length, "what would you have done?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a difficult thing to put myself in your position." +</P> + +<P> +"Is it, really? Why, then, I will tell you something more of myself. +You say that Mrs. Brewer gave me an excellent character?" +</P> + +<P> +"I certainly shouldn't have known you from her description." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"I seem to you so disreputable?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not exactly that," replied Eve thoughtfully. "But you seem altogether +a different person from what you seemed to her." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"She described me? I should so like to hear what she said." +</P> + +<P> +The changing of plates imposed a brief silence. Hilliard drank a glass +of wine and saw that Eve just touched hers with her lips. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"That's what you haven't told me," remarked the listener. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean by a man's life?" +</P> + +<P> +"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 anything at all." +</P> + +<P> +"That's a mistake," said Eve. "You owe the enjoyment, whatever it is, +to your money, not to me." +</P> + +<P> +"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 +<I>you</I> 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." +</P> + +<P> +"What did you do in Paris?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't Dudley seem a long way off when you were there?" asked Eve half +absently. +</P> + +<P> +"In another planet.—You thought once of going to Paris; Miss Ringrose +told me." +</P> + +<P> +Eve knitted her brows, and made no answer. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<P> +When fruit had been set before them—and as he was peeling a banana: +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I never dined till this evening," said Eve. +</P> + +<P> +"Never? This is the first time you have been at a restaurant?" +</P> + +<P> +"For dinner—yes." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Eve regarded him with curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +"Is there no choice?" she asked. "While you have money, couldn't you +find some better way of earning a living?" +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +"Then why don't you go to work! It would save you from living in +hideous places." +</P> + +<P> +"After all, does it matter much? If I had anything else to gain. +Suppose I had any hope of marriage, for instance——" +</P> + +<P> +He said it playfully. Eve turned her eyes away, but gave no other sign +of self-consciousness. +</P> + +<P> +"I have no such hope. I have seen too much of marriage in poverty." +</P> + +<P> +"So have I," said his companion, with quiet emphasis. +</P> + +<P> +"And when a man's absolutely sure that he will never have an income of +more than a hundred and fifty pounds——" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a crime if he asks a woman to share it," Eve added coldly. +</P> + +<P> +"I agree with you. It's well to understand each other on that +point.—Talking of architecture, I bought a grand book this afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +He described the purchase, and mentioned what it cost. +</P> + +<P> +"But at that rate," said Eve, "your days of slavery will come again +very soon." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I doubt that—at least, I know that it couldn't be so with me." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what do you aim at?" Hilliard asked disinterestedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Safety," was the prompt reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Safety? From what?" +</P> + +<P> +"From years of struggle to keep myself alive, and a miserable old age." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you might have said—a safety-match." +</P> + +<P> +The jest, and its unexpectedness, struck sudden laughter from Eve. +Hilliard joined in her mirth. +</P> + +<P> +After that she suggested, "Hadn't we better go?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Let us walk quietly on. The streets are pleasant after sunset." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +They crossed Holborn, and took their way up Southampton Row, neither +speaking until they were within sight of Russell Square. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I did the same, sometimes, when I lived in Gower Place." +</P> + +<P> +"Doesn't it strike you that we are rather like each other in some +things?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes!" Eve replied frankly. "I have noticed that." +</P> + +<P> +"You have? Even in the lives we have led there's a sort of resemblance, +isn't there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I see now that there is." +</P> + +<P> +In Russell Square they turned from the pavement, and walked along the +edge of the enclosure. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish Patty had been with us," said Eve all at once. "She would have +enjoyed it so thoroughly." +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +She glanced inquiringly at him. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Eve laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not? Patty and I have both so much more money than we know what to +do with," she answered. +</P> + +<P> +"Money? Oh, what of that! I have money." +</P> + +<P> +She laughed again. +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard was startled. +</P> + +<P> +"You are talking rather wildly. Leaving myself out of the question, +what would Mr. Dally say to such a proposal?" +</P> + +<P> +"Who's Mr. Dally?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you know? Hasn't Patty told you that she is engaged?" +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I suppose it does. At all events, it makes me feel discontented." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I might," Eve replied absently. And she turned away to the other side +of the square. +</P> + +<P> +"By-the-bye, you <I>have</I> a friend in Paris. Do you ever hear from her?" +</P> + +<P> +"She wrote once or twice after she went back; but it has come to an +end." +</P> + +<P> +"Still, you might find her again, if you were there." +</P> + +<P> +Eve delayed her reply a little, then spoke impatiently. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +"Why should you know me?" she interrupted, in a voice of irritation. +</P> + +<P> +"Only because I wish it more than anything else, I have wished it from +the day when I first saw your portrait." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh! that wretched portrait! I should be sorry if I thought it was at +all like me." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"And that isn't my real self at all." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"You would like to know what has changed me from the kind of girl I was +at Dudley?" +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Are</I> you changed?" +</P> + +<P> +"In some ways, no doubt. You, at all events, seem to think so." +</P> + +<P> +"I can wait. You will tell me all about it some day." +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +He waited. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I was going to say that there's no use in our thinking much +about each other." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't ask you to think of me. But I shall think a great deal about +you for long enough to come." +</P> + +<P> +"That's what I want to prevent." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because, in the end, it might be troublesome to me." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard kept silence awhile, then laughed. When he spoke again, it was +of things indifferent natures. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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." +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>is</I> ashamed, +what's more. Don't you call it disgusting, such a marriage as that?" +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard avoided the delicate question. +</P> + +<P> +"I shouldn't wonder if it hastens another marriage," he said with a +smile. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Dally has fallen under your displeasure?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, is it <I>you</I>, 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!" +</P> + +<P> +He followed her along the passage and into the shop, where one gas-jet +was burning low. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard explained, and begged her to tell him what was the matter. But +Patty kept him in suspense. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"But what is it? Where is Eve?" +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"To let me know if you were anxious about her." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and I am. She's in danger I only hope——" +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't like to tell you all I know. It doesn't seem right. But I'm so +afraid for Eve." +</P> + +<P> +"I can only imagine one kind of danger——" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—of course, it's that—you know what I mean. But there's more than +you could fancy." +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me, then, what has alarmed you?" +</P> + +<P> +"When did you see her last?" Patty inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"More than a week ago. Two or three days before I came here." +</P> + +<P> +"Had you noticed anything?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing unusual." +</P> + +<P> +"No more did I, till last Monday night. Then I saw that something was +wrong. Hush!" +</P> + +<P> +She gripped his arm, and they listened. But no sound could be heard. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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. +</P> + +<P> +"No. I can't. I can only give you a warning." +</P> + +<P> +"But what's the use of that? What can I do? How can I interfere?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," replied the girl, with a helpless sigh. "She's in +danger, that's all I call tell you." +</P> + +<P> +"Patty, don't be a fool! Out with it! Who is the man? Is it some one +you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't exactly know him I've seen him." +</P> + +<P> +"Is he—a sort of gentleman?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, he's a gentleman. And you'd never think to look at him that +he could do anything that wasn't right." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well. What reason have you for supposing that he's doing wrong?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here," said Hilliard. "You'll drive me out of my senses. Eve is +in love with this man, is she?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid so. She was." +</P> + +<P> +"Before she went away, you mean. And, of course, her going away had +something to do with it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it had." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard laid his hands on the girl's shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well, I'll tell you. She went away because it came out that the +man was married." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that's it?" He spoke from a dry throat. "She told you herself?" +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +"Stay, how did she get to know him first?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just by chance—somewhere." +</P> + +<P> +"I understand," said Hilliard grimly. "Go on." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"What's his position?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's in business, and seems to have lots of money; but I don't exactly +know what it is he does." +</P> + +<P> +"You are afraid, then, that Eve is being drawn back to him?" +</P> + +<P> +"I feel sure she is—and it's dreadful." +</P> + +<P> +"What I should like to know," said Hilliard, harshly, "is whether she +really cares for him, or only for his money." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh! How horrid you are! I never thought you could say such a thing!" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know her? Why, what are you talking about, Mr. Hilliard?" +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think of her, then? Is she a good-hearted girl or——" +</P> + +<P> +"Or what? Of course she's good-hearted. The things that men do say! +They seem to be all alike." +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +"Hush!" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"It's my uncle," she whispered, terror-stricken. "Don't stir." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"You mustn't lock up yet," said the girl, "Eve is out." +</P> + +<P> +"What's she doing?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know. At the theatre with friends, I dare say." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"She hasn't come yet." +</P> + +<P> +"What's the time?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think she will come at all?" asked Hilliard. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, of course she will!" +</P> + +<P> +"I shall wait about. Don't stand here. Good-night." +</P> + +<P> +"You won't let her know what I've told you?" said Patty, retaining his +hand. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I won't. If she doesn't come back at all, I'll see you to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +He moved away, and the door closed. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Where have you been to-night?" were his first words, sounding more +roughly than he in tended. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +She spoke in so strange a voice, with such show of agitation, that +Hilliard stood gazing at her till she again broke silence, +</P> + +<P> +"Have you been waiting here for me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Patty told me you weren't back." +</P> + +<P> +"Why did you come?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why do I ever come to meet you?" +</P> + +<P> +"We can't talk here," said Eve, turning away. "Come into a quieter +place." +</P> + +<P> +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— +</P> + +<P> +"I want to ask you for something." +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" Hilliard repeated gruffly. +</P> + +<P> +"That isn't your usual way of speaking to me." +</P> + +<P> +"Will you tell me where you have been tonight?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nowhere—walking about——" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you often walk about the streets till midnight?" +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed I don't." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't been alone?" +</P> + +<P> +"No—I've been with a friend." +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"You have changed so all at once. I thought you would never talk in +this way." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Eve moved a few steps, but he did not follow her, and she returned. A +policeman passing threw a glance at them. +</P> + +<P> +"It's no use asking what I meant to ask," she said, with her eyes on +the ground. "You won't grant it me." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I was going to ask for money." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not treat me just like a man-friend? I'm old enough to take care +of myself." +</P> + +<P> +"You think so, but I know better. Wait a moment. How much money do you +want?" +</P> + +<P> +"Thirty-five pounds." +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly thirty-five? And it isn't for your own use?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Why should you?" she asked, with a change to coldness. "What harm have +I done you?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall benefit by it, because it will relieve me from a dreadful +anxiety." +</P> + +<P> +"Or, in other words, will relieve someone else?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can speak only of myself. The kindness will be done to me." +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +Eve remained mute, her head bent. +</P> + +<P> +"What about your friend and you in the future? Are you bound to this +friend in any irredeemable way?" +</P> + +<P> +"No—I am not," she answered, with emotion. +</P> + +<P> +"There's nothing between you but—let us call it mere friendship." +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing—nothing!" +</P> + +<P> +"So far, so good." He looked keenly into her face. "But how about the +future?" +</P> + +<P> +"There will never be anything more—there can't be." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"You will be helping me <I>out</I> of misery!" Eve exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, for the present. I will make a bargain with you." +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him with startled eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't think you are serious," said Eve. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"How can I leave my work at a moment's notice?" +</P> + +<P> +"The devil take your work—for he alone is the originator of such +accursed toil!" +</P> + +<P> +"How can I live at your expense?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Eve said nothing: she stood half turned from him. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I am quite willing to go away," said Eve in a low voice. "But the +shame of it—to be supported by you." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, you don't hate me?" +</P> + +<P> +"You know I do not." +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can trust you perfectly." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"But how can I explain to her?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"It's so difficult to believe that you are in earnest." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't decide to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"I can give you only till to-morrow morning. If I don't hear from you +by midday, I am gone." +</P> + +<P> +"You shall hear from me—one way or the other." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Eve seemed about to walk away, but she hesitated and turned again. +</P> + +<P> +"I will do as you wish—I will go." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"In this same place, at nine o'clock." +</P> + +<P> +"So be it. I will bring the cheque." +</P> + +<P> +"But I must be able to cash it at once." +</P> + +<P> +"So you can. It will be on a London bank. I'll get the cash myself if +you like." +</P> + +<P> +Then they shook hands and went in opposite directions. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't you come to see me?" she asked excitedly. +</P> + +<P> +"I was afraid <I>she</I> might be there. Did she go to business, as usual?" +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"I dare say I could guess." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard began to walk down the street. Patty, keeping close at his +side, regarded him with glances of wonder. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you willing to go with her?" +</P> + +<P> +"And have all my expenses paid?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course." +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"Impossible to say. Three months—half a year—I don't know. What about +Mr. Daily?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I've done with <I>him</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +"And you are perfectly sure that you can get employment whenever you +need it?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"That settles it, then." +</P> + +<P> +"But I want to know—I can't make it out—Eve won't tell me how she's +managing to go. Are <I>you</I> going to pay for her?" +</P> + +<P> +"We won't talk of that, Patty. She's going; that's enough." +</P> + +<P> +"You persuaded her, last night?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"It didn't look like it. She's shut herself in her room." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't mind doing anything for her." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I never thought there was anything the' matter with her." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Patty mused. The lightness of her step told in what a spirit of gaiety +she looked forward to the expedition. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think," she asked presently, "that it'll all come to an +end—what I told you of?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I think so." +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't let her know that I'd been talking——" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +Again from Patty, and again a request that he would come to the shop at +mid-day. +</P> + +<P> +"Just as I foresaw—excuses—postponement. What woman ever had the +sense of honour!" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"She can't go to-day," said Patty, with an air of concern. "You were +quite right—she is really ill." +</P> + +<P> +"Has she gone out?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"But if she really <I>can't</I>——" +</P> + +<P> +"Then it's her misfortune—she must suffer for it. She goes to-morrow +or not at all. Can you make her understand that?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell her." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +The girl reddened, half in delight, half in shame. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want it—she shall come——" +</P> + +<P> +"Very well; good-bye till to-morrow, or for good." +</P> + +<P> +"No, no; she shall come." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the time?" was his inquiry, as he looked up at the starry sky. +</P> + +<P> +He felt for his watch, but no watch was discoverable. Together with the +gold chain it had disappeared. +</P> + +<P> +"Damnation! someone has robbed me." +</P> + +<P> +The policeman was sympathetic, but reproachful. +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you go to sleep on the Embankment at this time of night? Lost +any money?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +As a matter of form, he supplied the police with information concerning +the theft. Of recovery there could be little hope. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +He dozed for an hour or two. +</P> + +<P> +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." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +Between him and Eve not a word passed. They avoided each other's look. +Patty, excited and confused, shook hands with him. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on to the platform," he said. "I'll see after everything. This is +all the luggage?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"All right; go on to the platform." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall go in a smoking compartment," he said to Patty. "You had +better take your tickets." +</P> + +<P> +"But when shall we see you again?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, at Dover, of course." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't trouble: leave her to herself. I'll get you some papers." +</P> + +<P> +On returning from the bookstall, he slipped loose silver into Patty's +hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Use that if you want anything on the journey. And—I haven't forgot my +promise." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" +</P> + +<P> +"Go and take your places now: there's only ten minutes to wait." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't cross this way when I came before," he explained to her. +"From Newhaven it's a much longer voyage." +</P> + +<P> +"You like the sea, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"I chose it because it was cheaper—that's all." +</P> + +<P> +"Yet you're so extravagant now," remarked Patty, with eyes that +confessed admiration of this quality. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, because I am rich," he answered gaily. "Money is nothing to me." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you really rich? Eve said you weren't." +</P> + +<P> +"Did she?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't mean she said it in a disagreeable way. It was last night. She +thought you were wasting your money upon us." +</P> + +<P> +"If I choose to waste it, why not? Isn't there a pleasure in doing as +you like?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose you go down and see whether Eve wants anything? You needn't +say I sent you." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +As he anticipated, Patty alone received him when he called upon the +girls. She reported that Eve felt unable to rise. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think about her?" he asked. "Nothing serious, is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"She can't get rid of her headache." +</P> + +<P> +"Let her rest as long as she likes. Are you comfortable here?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Get ready, then," said Hilliard, "and we'll have an hour or two." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"And I fancy it was something she didn't want <I>me</I> to understand." +</P> + +<P> +"Why should you think so?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, something in the way the girl looked at me." +</P> + +<P> +"No, no; you were mistaken. She only wanted to show that she knew some +French." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you like Eve?" he asked abruptly, disregarding some trivial +question Patty had put to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Like her? Of course I do." +</P> + +<P> +"And <I>why</I> do you like her?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why?—ah—I don't know. Because I do." +</P> + +<P> +And she laughed foolishly. +</P> + +<P> +"Does Eve like <I>you</I>?" Hilliard continued. +</P> + +<P> +"I think she does. Else I don't see why she kept up with me." +</P> + +<P> +"Has she ever done you any kindness?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard quitted the subject. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"But I don't understand it, and how can I buy anything when I can't +speak a word?" +</P> + +<P> +"All the same, take that and keep it till you are able to make use of +it. It's what I promised you." +</P> + +<P> +Patty drew back her hand, but her objections were not difficult to +overcome. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you spare time to show us something of Paris?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I am your official guide. Make use of me whenever it pleases you." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't feel able to go very far. Isn't there some place where we +could sit down in the open air?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you like the hotel I chose?" he began. +</P> + +<P> +"Everything is very nice." +</P> + +<P> +"And you are not sorry to be here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not in one way. In another I can't understand how I come to be here at +all." +</P> + +<P> +"Your physician has ordered it." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—so I suppose it's all right." +</P> + +<P> +"There's one thing I'm obliged to speak of. Do you understand French +money?" +</P> + +<P> +Eve averted her face, and spoke after a slight delay. +</P> + +<P> +"I can easily learn." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I've brought it on myself; but I feel more ashamed than I can tell +you." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +He rose and broke off the dialogue. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"I wanted to ask whether you would mind if we left the hotel and went +to live at another place?" +</P> + +<P> +He heard her with surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"You are not comfortable?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Pooh! You're not to think of the cost——" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard wondered what accounts of herself Eve had rendered to the +Parisienne, but he did not venture to ask. +</P> + +<P> +"Will Patty like it as well?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just as well. Miss Roche speaks English, you know, and they'll get on +very well together." +</P> + +<P> +"Where is the place?" +</P> + +<P> +"Rather far off—towards the Jardin des Plantes. But I don't think that +would matter, would it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I leave it entirely to you." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," she answered, with that intonation he did not like. "Of +course, if you would like to meet Miss Roche, you can." +</P> + +<P> +"We'll think about it. It's enough that she's an old friend of yours." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Keep it all the same. I won't have any pinching." +</P> + +<P> +"There's nothing of the kind. If I don't have my way in this I shall go +back to London." +</P> + +<P> +He put the envelope in his pocket, and stood silent, with eyes fixed on +the river bank. +</P> + +<P> +"How long do you intend us to stay?" asked Eve. +</P> + +<P> +"As long as you find pleasure here." +</P> + +<P> +"And—what am I to do afterwards?" +</P> + +<P> +He glanced at her. +</P> + +<P> +"A holiday must come to an end," she added, trying, but without +success, to meet his look. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"But I have been thinking about it. I should be crazy if I didn't." +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me your thoughts, then." +</P> + +<P> +"Should you be satisfied if I got a place at Birmingham?" +</P> + +<P> +There again Was the note of self-abasement. It irritated the listener. +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you put it in that way? There's no question of what satisfies +me, but of what is good for you." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I think it had better be Birmingham." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well. It's understood that when we leave Paris we go there." +</P> + +<P> +A silence. Then Eve asked abruptly: +</P> + +<P> +"You will go as well?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I shall go back." +</P> + +<P> +"And what becomes of your determination to enjoy life as long as you +can?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm carrying it out. I shall go back satisfied, at all events." +</P> + +<P> +"And return to your old work?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know. It depends on all sorts of things. We won't talk of it +just yet." +</P> + +<P> +Patty approached, and Hilliard turned to her with a bright, jesting +face. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't—impossible——" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, what are you doing here—besides roasting?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eating and drinking just what suits my digestion." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +At table, Narramore mentioned that his friend Birching was an architect. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind that, old boy," interposed Hilliard. "How long are you +going for?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't very well be away for more than three weeks. The brass +bedsteads, you know——" +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard agreed to join in the tour. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"Chiefly meditate." +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>are</I> 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?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have no idea." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, now, <I>I</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?" +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard mused. Already he had a flush on his cheek, but his eyes +sensibly brightened. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he said at length with deliberation. "It would be worth while." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard, still musing, repeated with mechanical emphasis: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it would be worth while." +</P> + +<P> +Then Narramore called to Birching, and the talk became general again. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +The architect agreed, and time-tables were consulted. Hilliard drove +home to pack. When this was finished, he sat down and wrote a letter: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="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, +<BR><BR> +"MAURICE HILLIARD." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +The place he had appointed for meeting with the girls was at the foot +of the Boulevard St. Michel. Eve came alone. +</P> + +<P> +"And where's Patty?" he asked, grasping her hand heartily in return for +the smile of unfeigned pleasure with which she welcomed him. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, where indeed? Getting near to Charing Cross by now, I think." +</P> + +<P> +"She has gone back?" +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>first</I> letter. She wrote again, and had a reply that made +her still more wretched; and that was the <I>second</I>. Two or three more +came, and yesterday she could bear it no longer." +</P> + +<P> +"Then she has gone home to make it up with him?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard laughed light-heartedly. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Good little girl! And what sort of a husband will this fellow Dally +make her?" +</P> + +<P> +"No worse than husbands in general, I dare say—but how well you look! +How you must have been enjoying yourself!" +</P> + +<P> +"I can say exactly the same about you!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, but you are sunburnt, and look quite a different man!" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I feel almost like that," said Eve, laughing. +</P> + +<P> +He tried to meet her eyes; she eluded him. +</P> + +<P> +"I have an Alpine hunger; where shall we dine?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"If only <I>you</I> had been there! It was the one thing lacking." +</P> + +<P> +"You wouldn't have enjoyed yourself half so much. You amused me by your +description of Mr. Narramore, in the letter from Geneva." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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: +</P> + +<P> +"Why not have it outside?" said Eve. "You would like to smoke, I know." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"There's a month yet before the leaves will begin to fall," murmured +the young man, when he had smoked awhile in silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," was the answer. "I shall be glad to have a little summer still +in Birmingham." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you wish to go?" +</P> + +<P> +"I shall go to-morrow, or the day after," Eve replied quietly. +</P> + +<P> +Then again there came silence. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"That's very good news," Eve remarked, gazing across the street. +</P> + +<P> +"You think I ought to accept?" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you can pay the fifty guineas, and still leave yourself +enough to live upon?" +</P> + +<P> +"Enough till I earn something," Hilliard answered with a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I should think there's no doubt." +</P> + +<P> +"The question is this—are you perfectly willing to go back to +Birmingham?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm <I>anxious</I> to go." +</P> + +<P> +"You feel quite restored to health?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was never so well in my life." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Then, whatever life is before me," he said. "I shall have done <I>one</I> +thing that is worth doing." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps—if everyone's life is worth saving," Eve answered in a voice +just audible. +</P> + +<P> +"Everyone's is not; but yours was." +</P> + +<P> +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: +</P> + +<P> +"How I must have puzzled you when you first saw me in London!" +</P> + +<P> +He answered softly: +</P> + +<P> +"To be sure you did. And the thought of it puzzles me still." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"And you felt disappointed?" +</P> + +<P> +"At first, yes; or, rather, bewildered—utterly unable to understand +you." +</P> + +<P> +"You are disappointed still?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I wouldn't have you anything but what you are." +</P> + +<P> +"Still, that other girl was the one you <I>wished</I> to meet." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard listened intently, his eyes never stirring from her face. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"What sort of books?" +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"You escaped from yourself <I>there</I>, at all events." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"It will never come again," said Hilliard. +</P> + +<P> +"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 be too wonderful." +</P> + +<P> +"You may know it some day." +</P> + +<P> +Eve reflected. +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>her</I>. Wasn't it +natural that I should be reckless as soon as I got the chance?" +</P> + +<P> +"I begin to understand." +</P> + +<P> +"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!" +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>did</I> 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." +</P> + +<P> +"Yet never once dined at a restaurant," remarked Hilliard, laughing. +"There's the difference between man and woman." +</P> + +<P> +"My ideas of extravagance were very modest, after all." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard, fingering his coffee-cup, said in a lower voice: +</P> + +<P> +"Yet you haven't told me everything." +</P> + +<P> +Eve looked away, and kept silence. +</P> + +<P> +"By the time I met you"—he spoke in his ordinary tone—"you had begun +to grow tired of it." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—and——" She rose. "We won't sit here any longer." +</P> + +<P> +When they had walked for a few minutes: +</P> + +<P> +"How long shall you stay in Paris?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Won't you let me travel with you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do whatever you wish," Eve answered simply. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"One day more of Paris?" he asked softly. +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't it be better——?" she hesitated in the objection. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you wish to break the journey in London?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; let us go straight on." +</P> + +<P> +"To-morrow, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think we ought to put it off. The holiday is over." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I am wondering whether it is really necessary for you to go back to +your drudgery." +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have still plenty of money," said Hilliard, regarding her. +</P> + +<P> +"No more than you will need." +</P> + +<P> +"But think—how little more it costs for two than for one——" +</P> + +<P> +He spoke in spite of himself, having purposed no such suggestion. Eve +quickened her step. +</P> + +<P> +"No, no, no! You have a struggle before you; you don't know what——" +</P> + +<P> +"And if it would make it easier for me?—there's no real doubt about my +getting on well enough——" +</P> + +<P> +"Everything is doubtful." She spoke in a voice of agitation. "We can't +see a day before us. We have arranged everything very well——" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"I know how ungrateful I must seem." She spoke without looking at him. +"I have no right to refuse anything after all you——" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't say that," he interrupted impatiently. "That's the one thing I +shall never like to think of." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall think of it always, and be glad to remember it——" +</P> + +<P> +"Come nearer—give me your hand——" +</P> + +<P> +Holding it, he drew her against his side, and they stood in silence +looking upon the Seine, now dark beneath the clouding night. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't feel sure of you," fell at length from Hilliard. +</P> + +<P> +"I promise——" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; here, now, in Paris. But when you are back in that hell——" +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard spoke no answer, but he pressed her hand more tightly in his +own. +</P> + +<P> +"You knew it from Patty, didn't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I <I>was</I> 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." +</P> + +<P> +"It was the first time that anything of that kind had happened?" +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"You seem to contradict yourself," said Hilliard. "Why were you ashamed +and disgusted?" +</P> + +<P> +"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!" +</P> + +<P> +"Hateful to you, I see," muttered the listener, with something tight at +his heart. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Again he pressed her hand. The warmth of her body had raised his blood +to fever-heat. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard fancied that he could feel her heart beat against his arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Be quick!" he said. "Tell all, and have done with it." +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +"That's enough," Hilliard broke in, as her voice became inaudible. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, don't be ungenerous: that's so unlike you." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't mean it ungenerously. In his position I should have done +exactly as he did." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I believe it perfectly." +</P> + +<P> +"There was no excuse for what I did. How I had the courage—the +shamelessness—is more than I can understand now." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard stirred himself, and tried to laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"As it turned out, you couldn't have done better. Well, there's an end +of it. Come." +</P> + +<P> +He walked on, and Eve kept closely beside him, looking up into his face. +</P> + +<P> +"I am sure he will pay the money back," she said presently. +</P> + +<P> +"Hang the money!" +</P> + +<P> +Then he stood still. +</P> + +<P> +"How is he to pay it back? I mean, how is he to communicate with you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I gave him my address at Dudley." +</P> + +<P> +Again Hilliard moved on. +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>will</I> pay his debt; and I shall be very glad when he does." +</P> + +<P> +"What explanation did you give him?" +</P> + +<P> +"The true one. I said I had borrowed from a friend. He was in despair, +and couldn't refuse what I offered." +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"In future," she said, "you shall know everything I do. You can trust +me: there will be no more secrets." +</P> + +<P> +"Yet you are afraid——" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes drew him with the temptation he had ever yet resisted. Eve did +not refuse her lips. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I will write to her." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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 +meaningless 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. +</P> + +<P> +It was raining when he met Eve at the entrance. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard never questioned her about her attempts to obtain an +engagement; the subject was too disagreeable to him. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +He watched her face as she listened to the suggestion, and his timidity +seemed justified by her expression. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +"We'll think about it. Ah, it's warm in here!" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"If you like." +</P> + +<P> +"I may? You would come there?" he asked eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I would come. But I sha'n't like to see you in a bare, +comfortless place." +</P> + +<P> +"It needn't be that. A few pounds will make a decent sort of +sitting-room." +</P> + +<P> +"Anything to tell me?" Eve asked, abruptly quitting the subject. +</P> + +<P> +She seemed to be in better spirits than of late, notwithstanding the +evil sky; and Hilliard smiled with pleasure as he regarded her. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing unusual. Oh, yes; I'm forgetting. I had a letter from Emily, +and went to see her." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Read the letter." +</P> + +<P> +Eve did so. It began, "My dear Maurice," and ended, "Ever +affectionately and gratefully yours." The rest of its contents ran thus: +</P> + +<P> +"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!" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," said Hilliard, laughing as he met Eve's surprised look. "I +knew what <I>that</I> 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." +</P> + +<P> +"Surely he doesn't ill-use her?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Eve asked many questions, and approved his resolve. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"You can understand poor, foolish Emily thinking so——" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I thought it was over by now." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Which means for a month or two, I suppose." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Wants a strong man to take her in hand—like a good many other girls." +</P> + +<P> +Eve paid no attention to the smile. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense! Nobody was ever harmed by healthy enjoyment." +</P> + +<P> +"Was it healthy—for <I>her</I>? That's the question." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard mused, and felt disinclined to discuss the matter. +</P> + +<P> +"That isn't the only news I have for you," said Eve presently. "I've +had another letter." +</P> + +<P> +Her voice arrested Hilliard's step as he paced near her. +</P> + +<P> +"I had rather not have told you anything about it, but I promised. And +I have to give you something." +</P> + +<P> +She held out to him a ten-pound note. +</P> + +<P> +"What's this?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +After a short struggle with himself, Hilliard recovered a manly bearing. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +She hesitated, her eyes cast down, +</P> + +<P> +"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!" +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard steadily refused, with perfect self-command. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Do so, by all means." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you said anything yet to Mr. Narramore?" she asked at length. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I asked again, because I have been thinking—mightn't Mr. Narramore be +able to help me to get work?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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: +</P> + +<P> +"I was thinkin' it 'ud be about toime for you. You look starved, my +lass." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; it has turned very cold." +</P> + +<P> +"I've got a bit o' supper ready for you. I don't want none myself; +there's food enough for me <I>here</I>." 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——'" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"This is dreadful extravagance!" she exclaimed, pausing at the +threshold, and eying her welcomer with mock reproof. +</P> + +<P> +"It is, but not on my part. The things came a day or two ago, simply +addressed to me from shops." +</P> + +<P> +"Who was the giver, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you shall have one if you insist upon it." +</P> + +<P> +"Why did you refuse it before?" +</P> + +<P> +"I hardly know—a fancy—I thought you would keep looking at it, and +regretting that I had changed so." +</P> + +<P> +As on her previous visit, she soon ceased to talk, and, in listening to +Hilliard, showed unconsciously a tired, despondent face. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing yet," fell from her lips, when he had watched her silently. +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind; I hate the mention of it." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Is she the kind of girl to do that?" asked Eve, waking to curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +"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?'" +</P> + +<P> +"He must be a strange man. Of course he doesn't care anything about +Miss Birching." +</P> + +<P> +"But I think he does, in his way." +</P> + +<P> +"How did he ever get on at all in business?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think he may have more energy than you imagine?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's possible. I have sometimes wondered." +</P> + +<P> +"What sort of life does he lead? Has he many friends I mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Eve did not join in his laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Good Heavens! As if I should mention it if I were capable of such a +thought!" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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—— +</P> + +<P> +"Have you ever thought what sort of a wife I am likely to make?" +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard tried to laugh, but was disagreeably impressed by her words +and the look that accompanied them. +</P> + +<P> +"I have thought about it, to be sure," he answered carelessly +</P> + +<P> +"And don't you feel a need of courage?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. And not only the need but the courage itself." +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"You 're in a strange mood." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't put me off. Answer!" +</P> + +<P> +"To ask such a question," he replied quietly, "is to charge me with a +great deal of hypocrisy. I did <I>once</I> 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." +</P> + +<P> +"What thoughts?" +</P> + +<P> +"Such as one doesn't talk about—if you insist on frankness." +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes wandered. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, we agree in that. But why do you insist upon it just now? Are +<I>you</I> beginning to be sorry that we ever met?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a day passes but I feel sorry for it." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you are harping on the old scruple. Why will you plague me +about it?" +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +He regarded her attentively. +</P> + +<P> +"You feel the burden?" +</P> + +<P> +She delayed her answer, glancing at him with a new expression—a +deprecating tenderness. +</P> + +<P> +"It's better to tell you. I <I>do</I> feel it, and have always felt it." +</P> + +<P> +"Confound this infernal atmosphere!" Hilliard broke out wrathfully. +"It's making you morbid again. Come here to me! Eve—come!" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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— +</P> + +<P> +"Is the mood gone?" +</P> + +<P> +Eve nodded, and sighed. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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— +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>infra dig</I>. 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." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you quarrel?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quarrel? I never quarrel with anyone; it's bad for one's nerves." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you get as far as proposing?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I left <I>her</I> 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 <I>me</I>? +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." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry to see you so cut up about it," remarked Hilliard. +</P> + +<P> +"None of your irony, old fellow. Well, the truth is, I've seen someone +I like better." +</P> + +<P> +"Not surprised." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Improbable?" commented the listener. "Your blood is too temperate." +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not amiss. Steadily, I think." +</P> + +<P> +Narramore lay back at full length, his face turned to the ceiling. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +He played with the idea, till it took strong hold of him, and he began +to talk with most unwonted animation. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"The fellow's in love, at last. When a man thinks of pleasant little +country houses, 'with a tree or two' about them——" +</P> + +<P> +He sighed, and ground his teeth, and sketched on. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>are</I> 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." +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>you</I>, 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 <I>not</I>—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." +</P> + +<P> +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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"You must taste old Narramore's port wine," said her entertainer. "The +fellow actually sent a couple of dozen." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," he exclaimed at length, "I wrote to Patty, and she answered." +</P> + +<P> +"May I see the letter?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. Here it is." +</P> + +<P> +Eve read it, and smiled with pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +"Doesn't she write nicely! Poor girl!" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Life isn't the same for her since she was in Paris," said Eve, with +peculiar softness. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, perhaps it improved her." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it certainly did! But it gave her a feeling of discontent for the +old life and the people about her." +</P> + +<P> +"A good many of us have to suffer that. She's nothing like as badly off +as you are, my dear girl." +</P> + +<P> +Eve coloured, and kept silence. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"But who knows? It <I>might</I> 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." +</P> + +<P> +A singular solemnity had settled upon Eve's countenance. She spoke not +a word, and seemed unaccountably ill at ease. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think I am in the clouds?" said Hilliard. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no! Why shouldn't you get on—as other men do?" +</P> + +<P> +But she would not dwell upon the hope, and Hilliard, not a little +vexed, again became silent. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; but I should greatly prefer a day with you alone." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, of course, the time is coming for that, Would you let us come here +one day?" +</P> + +<P> +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: +</P> + +<P> +"You had better not come here at all. I love you too insanely." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +In these days architectural study made little way. +</P> + +<P> +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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"I know you won't be glad to see me. I'm so sorry. I said I had better +not come." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I am glad to see you. But where's Eve?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you may as well see what sort of a den I've made for myself." +</P> + +<P> +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? +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"When did this headache begin?" he inquired, trying to speak without +over-much concern. +</P> + +<P> +"She had a little yesterday, when she met me at the station. I didn't +think she was looking at all well." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm surprised to hear that. She looked particularly well when I saw +her last. Had you any trouble in making your way here?" +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"Now and then. So you've seen Dudley at last. What do you think of it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I like it! I shouldn't mind living there a bit. But of course I +like Birmingham better." +</P> + +<P> +"Almost as fine as Paris, isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"If it's fine to-morrow," Patty continued, after observing him +furtively, "are you coming to Dudley?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I shall come over. Did she send any message?" +</P> + +<P> +"No—nothing particular——" +</P> + +<P> +Patty looked confused, stroked her dress, and gave a little cough. +</P> + +<P> +"But if it rains—as it very likely will—there's no use in my coming." +</P> + +<P> +"No, she said not." +</P> + +<P> +"Or if her headache is still troubling her——" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think," said Hilliard carelessly, "that Eve would rather +have you to herself, just for the short time you are here?" +</P> + +<P> +Patty made vigorous objection. +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>do</I> 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." +</P> + +<P> +"That's quite news to me," said the listener gravely. +</P> + +<P> +"Doesn't she let you know? Then I'm so sorry I mentioned it. You won't +tell her I said anything?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wait a moment. Does she say that she is often in low spirits?" +</P> + +<P> +Patty faltered, stroking her dress with the movement of increasing +nervousness. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"But she tells me just the opposite. She says——" +</P> + +<P> +"Says what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps it's only the place that doesn't agree with her. I don't think +Dudley is <I>very</I> healthy, do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +He met the girl's eyes, and saw them expand in alarm. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't think—I didn't mean——" she stammered. +</P> + +<P> +"No, but I have a reason for asking. Is it so or not?" +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>sure</I> she wouldn't, after +all you've done for her." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard ground the carpet with his foot, and all but uttered a violent +ejaculation. +</P> + +<P> +"I know she is all gratitude," were the words that became audible. +</P> + +<P> +"She is indeed!" urged Patty. "She says that—even if she wished—she +could never break off with you; as I am <I>sure</I> she would never wish!" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Hilliard, I'm quite sure you are worrying without any cause—you +are, indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +"I know I am. It's all nonsense. Come along, and let us enjoy the +sunshine." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"I glory in the place!" +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard was tired out. He repented of his proposal to make the journey +to Dudley and back, but his companion did not suspect this. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"If it rains." +</P> + +<P> +"It's sure to rain. I shall look in about four." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"So we really sha'n't see you if it's wet tomorrow," said Patty. +</P> + +<P> +"Better not. Eve would be afraid to come, she catches cold so easily." +</P> + +<P> +"It may be fine, like to-day. I do hope——" +</P> + +<P> +She broke off and added: +</P> + +<P> +"Why, isn't that Eve in front?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Did I frighten you? Mr. Hilliard has come back with me to ask how you +are. Is your head better?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"We've had a splendid time," cried Patty. "Mr. Hilliard has shown me +everything." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Eve spoke hurriedly, still regarding Hilliard, who looked upon the +ground. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you been alone all day?" he asked, taking the outer place at her +side, as they walked on. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course—except for the people in the house," was her offhand reply. +</P> + +<P> +"I met Narramore down at the station; he must have passed you. What has +brought him here to-day, I wonder?" +</P> + +<P> +Appearing not to heed the remark, Eve glanced across at Patty, and said +with a laugh: +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure he wouldn't want <I>me</I> jingling there." +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't he? He's very fond of music indeed." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard stopped. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"What about to-morrow?" Eve asked. +</P> + +<P> +The sun had set, and in the westward sky rose a mountain of menacing +cloud. Hilliard gave a glance in that direction before replying. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +Eve was mute, gazing at the speaker as if she did not catch what he had +said. Patty answered for herself. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you can either come to my place," he continued, "or I'll meet you +at the station." +</P> + +<P> +Patty's desire was evident in her face; she looked at Eve. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +His mind was haunted with deadly suspicions: he felt sick at heart. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +The innocent Patty (<I>was</I> 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 <I>that</I> 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? +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Hollo! Here we are again!" +</P> + +<P> +He stared at the speaker, and recognised Mr. Dengate. +</P> + +<P> +"So you've come back?" +</P> + +<P> +"Where from?" said Hilliard. "What do you know of me?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>will</I> have it, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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!" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +To escape the lookers-on, Hilliard moved forward. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"You've bruised my lips—that's all. And I deserved it for being such a +damned fool as to lose my temper." +</P> + +<P> +"You look rather more decent than I should have expected. What have you +been doing in London?" +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know I have been in London?" +</P> + +<P> +"I took that for granted when I knew you'd left your work at Dudley." +</P> + +<P> +"Who told you I had left it?" +</P> + +<P> +"What does it matter?" +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"Are you drunk now, or not?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not in the way you mean. Do you happen to know a man called Narramore?" +</P> + +<P> +"Never heard the name." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard felt ashamed of his ignoble suspicion. He became silent. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +A clerk at the ironworks, with whom Hilliard had been on terms of +slight intimacy. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that fellow," he uttered carelessly. "I'm glad to know it was no +one else. Why did you go inquiring about me?" +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"Every penny of it gone in drink." +</P> + +<P> +"And what are you doing?" +</P> + +<P> +"Walking with a man I should be glad to be rid of." +</P> + +<P> +"All right. Here's my card. When you get into the gutter, and nobody'll +give you a hand out, let me know." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +He hoped Narramore would keep his promise, and was not disappointed. On +the verge of dusk his friend knocked and entered. +</P> + +<P> +"The blind woman was at the door below," he explained, "looking for +somebody." +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>you</I> +doing at Dudley yesterday?" +</P> + +<P> +Narramore took his pipe out of its case and smiled over it. +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>you</I> doing at Dudley?" +</P> + +<P> +"Had to go over with a girl." +</P> + +<P> +"Rather a pretty girl, too. Old acquaintance?" +</P> + +<P> +"Someone I got to know in London. No, no, not at all what you suppose." +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"You went rather far, didn't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>them</I>—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." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard obeyed, and for a few moments they puffed in silence, twilight +thickening about them. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing." +</P> + +<P> +"A twinge of gout?" +</P> + +<P> +"Go on." +</P> + +<P> +Narramore scrutinised his friend, who spoke in an unusual tone. +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>me</I>. 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." +</P> + +<P> +A gust threw rain against the windows. Narramore paused, looking into +the fire, and smiling thoughtfully. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII +</H3> + +<P> +"You foresee the course of the narrative?" +</P> + +<P> +"Better tell it in detail," muttered Hilliard. +</P> + +<P> +"Why this severe tone? Do you anticipate something that will shock your +moral sense? I didn't think you were so straitlaced." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean to say——" +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard was sitting upright; his voice began on a harsh tremor, and +suddenly failed. The other gazed at him in humorous astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I see—it's all right——" +</P> + +<P> +"But do you really mean," said Narramore, "that anything else would +have aroused your moral indignation?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"It was a joke, then?" remarked his friend. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Go on with your tragic story. The girl asked you to find her a +place——" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Did she tell you the truth?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"The beginning was ominous." +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +"Who was it that told her of you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, one of our girls, no doubt. I haven't asked her—never thought +again about it." +</P> + +<P> +"And what's her record?" +</P> + +<P> +"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 +<I>you</I> 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." +</P> + +<P> +"And she has promised to marry you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, not in so many words. She seems to have scruples—difference of +position, and that kind of thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Very reasonable scruples, no doubt." +</P> + +<P> +"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. +</P> + +<P> +"She has never been on to the Continent?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard had risen, but instead of lighting the lamp he turned to the +window and stood there drumming with his fingers on a pane. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you seriously concerned for me?" said his friend. "Does it seem a +piece of madness?" +</P> + +<P> +"You must judge for yourself, Narramore." +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>did</I> 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." +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt, as you say, she wants a thorough change," remarked Hilliard, +smiling in the gloom. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going?" +</P> + +<P> +"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!" +</P> + +<P> +He went off laughing, and his friend sat down again by the fireside. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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? +</P> + +<P> +Easter Sunday. As he walked on, he pondered the Christian story, and +tried to make something out of it. Had it any significance for <I>him</I>? +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. +</P> + +<P> +Better for <I>him</I>. 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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIV +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +With hands behind he stood in front of the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"She chose not to come, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. She asked me to come and see you alone." +</P> + +<P> +"No pretence of headache this time." +</P> + +<P> +"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. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then, why hasn't she come to-day?" +</P> + +<P> +"She has sent a letter for you, Mr. Hilliard." +</P> + +<P> +Patty handed the missive, and Hilliard laid it upon the table. +</P> + +<P> +"Am I to read it now?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think it's a long letter." +</P> + +<P> +"Feels like it. I'll study it at my leisure. You know what it contains?" +</P> + +<P> +Patty nodded, her face turned away. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—that's the reason. But she has meant to let you know for some +time." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard drew a long breath. He fixed his eyes on the letter. +</P> + +<P> +"She has told me everything," the girl continued, speaking hurriedly. +"Did you know about it before yesterday?" +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"She couldn't be sure." +</P> + +<P> +"H'm! Then she didn't know for certain that Narramore was going to talk +to me about her yesterday?" +</P> + +<P> +"She knew it <I>must</I> come." +</P> + +<P> +"Patty, our friend Miss Madeley is a very sensible person—don't you +think so?" +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I meant that as well." +</P> + +<P> +"Let us understand each other. How much has she told you?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"So do I." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"On condition that I—what?" +</P> + +<P> +Patty gave him a bewildered look. +</P> + +<P> +"What does she ask of me now?" +</P> + +<P> +"She's ashamed to ask anything. She fears you will never speak to her +again." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard meditated, then glanced at the letter. +</P> + +<P> +"I had better read this now, I think, if you will let me." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—please do——" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"There's something more here than I expected. Can you tell me whether +she heard from Narramore this morning?" +</P> + +<P> +"She has had no letter." +</P> + +<P> +"I see. And what does she suppose passed between Narramore and me +yesterday?" +</P> + +<P> +"She is wondering what you told him." +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Only corresponded with him, and made appointments with him, and +allowed him to feel sure that she would be his wife." +</P> + +<P> +"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!" +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard took up the letter again, and again there was a long silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you said good-bye to her?" were his next words. +</P> + +<P> +"She's going to meet me at the station to see me off." +</P> + +<P> +"Did she come from Dudley with you?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"It's all very well to make use of you for this disagreeable +business——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I didn't mind it!" broke in Patty, with irrelevant cheerfulness. +</P> + +<P> +"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>I</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?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think she does," faltered Patty, nervously striking her dress. +</P> + +<P> +"Is she in love with him?" +</P> + +<P> +"I—I really don't know!" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think she ever was in love with anyone, or ever will be?" +</P> + +<P> +Patty sat mute. +</P> + +<P> +"Just tell me what you think." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid she never—Oh, I don't like to say it, Mr. Hilliard!" +</P> + +<P> +"That she never was in love with <I>me</I>? I know it." +</P> + +<P> +His tone caused Patty to look up at him, and what she saw in his face +made her say quickly: +</P> + +<P> +"I am so sorry; I am indeed! You deserve——" +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>him</I>?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl whispered an assent. +</P> + +<P> +"A pity I interfered." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! But think what——" +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +Patty waited, but he did not finish his speech. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to do, Mr. Hilliard?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"She says that!" Patty exclaimed, with startled eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"She told me it was impossible. But perhaps she didn't mean it. Who can +tell <I>what</I> she means?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Did she say that the other thing was also impossible—to marry +Narramore?" +</P> + +<P> +"She thinks it is, after what you've told him." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, now, as a matter of fact I told him nothing." +</P> + +<P> +Patty stared, a new light in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"You told him—nothing?" +</P> + +<P> +"I just let him suppose that I had never heard the girl's name before." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, how kind of you! How——" +</P> + +<P> +"Please to remember that it wasn't very easy to tell the truth. What +sort of figure should I have made?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's too bad of Eve! It's cruel! I can never like her as I did before." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, she's very interesting. She gives one such a lot to talk about." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't like her, and I shall tell her so before I leave Birmingham. +What right has she to make people so miserable?" +</P> + +<P> +"Only one, after all." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean that you will let her marry Mr. Narramore?" Patty asked +with interest. +</P> + +<P> +"We shall have to talk about that." +</P> + +<P> +"If I were you I should never see her again!" +</P> + +<P> +"The probability is that we shall see each other many a time." +</P> + +<P> +"Then <I>you</I> haven't much courage, Mr. Hilliard!" exclaimed the girl, +with a flush on her cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +"More than you think, perhaps," he answered between his teeth. +</P> + +<P> +"Men are very strange," Patty commented in a low voice of scorn, +mitigated by timidity. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Abashed by the grave force of this utterance, Patty shrank back into +the chair, and held her peace. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"May I tell Eve what you have said to me?" the girl asked with +diffidence. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, anything that I have said." +</P> + +<P> +Patty lingered a little, then, as her companion said no more, she rose. +</P> + +<P> +"I must say good-bye, Mr. Hilliard." +</P> + +<P> +"I am afraid your holiday hasn't been as pleasant as you expected." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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 <I>knew</I> 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...." +</P> + +<P> +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 <I>might</I> 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? +</P> + +<P> +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—— +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXV +</H3> + +<P> +She gave no sign of surprise. Hilliard read in her face that she had +prepared herself for this encounter. +</P> + +<P> +"Come away where we can talk," he said abruptly. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I have said all I <I>can</I> say in the letter. I deserve all your anger." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +The voice overcame him with a conviction of her sincerity, and he gazed +at her, marvelling. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you honest <I>now</I>? Anyone would think so; yet how am I to believe +it?" +</P> + +<P> +Eve met his eyes steadily. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"There's only one way in which I can punish you. For the loss of <I>my</I> +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." +</P> + +<P> +"What could I do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Be truthful—that was all." +</P> + +<P> +"You were not content with the truth. You forced me to think that I +could love you, Only remember what passed between us." +</P> + +<P> +"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.'" +</P> + +<P> +"You say that <I>now</I>——" +</P> + +<P> +"I should have said it at any time." +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +"Your love happens to fall upon a man who has solid possessions." +</P> + +<P> +"It's easy to speak so scornfully. I have not pretended to love the man +you mean." +</P> + +<P> +"Yet you have brought him to think that you are willing to marry him." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"When it's too late you are frank enough." +</P> + +<P> +"Despise me as much as you like. You want the truth, and you shall hear +nothing else from me." +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +Eve broke in impatiently. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>could</I> +be your friend: that was honest feeling." +</P> + +<P> +"It's no use to me. I must have more, or nothing." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't do that," said Eve, drawing away. "It's for you to tell +him—if you like." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I can never do that." +</P> + +<P> +"Without it, how are you to disentangle yourself?" +</P> + +<P> +"I promise you he shall see no more of me." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"There's only one way out of it for me," she said impulsively. "I can't +talk any longer. I'll write to you." +</P> + +<P> +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— +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +An unwonted vehemence shook her voice. Her muscles were tense; she +stood in an attitude of rebellious pride. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"My advice had nothing to do with <I>that</I>," was his answer, as he read +her face. "But I shall say not a word against it. I could respect you, +at all events." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and I had rather have your respect than your love." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +Might but the morrow bring him a letter from London! +</P> + +<P> +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— +</P> + +<P> +"I must see you as soon as possible. Be here before six.—Narramore." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVI +</H3> + +<P> +"What the devil does this mean, Hilliard?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"This is from Miss Madeley, and it's all about you. Why couldn't you +speak the other day?" +</P> + +<P> +"What does she say about me?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +The listener fixed his eye upon a copying-press, but without seeing it. +A grim smile began to contort his lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Where does she write from?" +</P> + +<P> +"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!" +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard began humming an air. He crossed the room and sat down. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you seen her since that Saturday?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; she has made excuses, and I guessed something was wrong. What has +been going on? <I>You</I> have seen her?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course." +</P> + +<P> +Narramore glared. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"It meant that I had nothing to say," Hilliard replied, through his +moustache. +</P> + +<P> +"You kept silence out of spite, then? You said to yourself, 'Let him +marry her and find out afterwards what she really is!'" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Narramore was listening with eagerness, his lips parted, and a growing +hope in his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"There never was anything serious between you?" +</P> + +<P> +"On her side, never for a moment. I pursued and pestered her, that was +all." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mind telling me who the girl was that I saw you with at Dudley?" +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +Narramore sprang from the corner of the table on which he had been +sitting. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I could swear hard enough. I could grip you by the throat and jump on +you——" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"You must find out whether she does or not." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you <I>think</I> she does?" +</P> + +<P> +"I refuse to think about it at all." +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"For all I know." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you suspect her?" Narramore urged fiercely. +</P> + +<P> +"She'll marry a rich man rather than a poor one—that's the worst I +think of her." +</P> + +<P> +"What woman won't?" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +He moved towards the exit. +</P> + +<P> +"One thing I must know, Hilliard—Are you going to see her again?" +</P> + +<P> +"Never—if I can help it." +</P> + +<P> +"Can we be friends still?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you never mention her name to me." +</P> + +<P> +Again they shook hands, eyes crossing in a smile of shamed hostility. +And the parting was for more than a twelvemonth. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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 <I>ought</I> 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." +</P> + +<P> +"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. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap27"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVII +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +They met genially, without a hint of estrangement. +</P> + +<P> +"Your wife well?" Hilliard took an opportunity of asking apart. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks, she's getting all right again. At Llandudno just now. Glad to +see that you're looking so uncommonly fit." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +A week or two after this, Narramore sent a friendly note— +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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— +</P> + +<P> +"Hilliard, let me introduce you to my wife." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"This is a pleasant garden." +</P> + +<P> +Eve had approached him as he stood musing, after a conversation with +other ladies. +</P> + +<P> +"Rather new, of course; but a year will do wonders. Have you seen the +chrysanthemums?" +</P> + +<P> +She led him apart, as they stood regarding the flowers, Hilliard was +surprised by words that fell from her. +</P> + +<P> +"Your contempt for me is beyond expression, isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is the last feeling I should associate with you," he answered. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"You are quite mistaken. I admire you very much." +</P> + +<P> +"What—my skill? Or my dress?" +</P> + +<P> +"Everything. You have become precisely what you were meant to be." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, the scorn of that!" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"What am I, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"An English lady—with rather more intellect than most." +</P> + +<P> +Eve flushed with satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I do now." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I thank you. With all my heart, again and again!" +</P> + +<P> +Her voice trembled under fulness of meaning. +</P> + +<P> +"You find life pleasant?" +</P> + +<P> +"You do, I hope?" she answered, as they paced on. +</P> + +<P> +"Not unpleasant, at all events. I am no longer slaving under the iron +gods. I like my work, and it promises to reward me." +</P> + +<P> +Eve made a remark about a flower-bed. Then her voice subdued again. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite contentedly. It was worth doing, and is worth remembering." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +Hilliard smiled for answer. +</P> + +<P> +"You and Robert are friends again?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perfectly." +</P> + +<P> +She turned, and they rejoined the company. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +And Maurice Hilliard, a free man in his own conceit, sang to himself a +song of the joy of life. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +THE END. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Eve's Ransom, by George Gissing + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVE'S RANSOM *** + +***** This file should be named 4297-h.htm or 4297-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/9/4297/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Eve's Ransom + +Author: George Gissing + +Posting Date: July 7, 2009 [EBook #4297] +Release Date: July, 2003 +First Posted: January 1, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVE'S RANSOM *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + + +EVE'S RANSOM + + +by + +George Gissing + + + + +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 this 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 anything 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 helpless 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 be 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 +meaningless 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 EBook of Eve's Ransom, by George Gissing + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVE'S RANSOM *** + +***** This file should be named 4297.txt or 4297.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/9/4297/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. 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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 + diff --git a/old/vrnsm10.zip b/old/vrnsm10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..276d6d2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/vrnsm10.zip |